From 60 to 60
Child of the Sixties.
In sixth grade, I was sent home one day for wearing a miniskirt. The principal called me “Missy,” and told me my dress was way too short for school.
In junior high, I wore peace signs and bell-bottoms, and listened to Jesus Rock. Some called me a Jesus Freak. I played Beatles and John Denver on my guitar.
I was a straight-A student in high school. On a career aptitude test, I was shown to be well-suited for a job in writing, editing, music, or religion — and my top three “manifest needs” were listed as autonomy, variety, and heterosexuality.
None of the questions I answered had anything remotely to do with sex. But that is what the test results actually said. Not kidding. Perhaps my obvious lack of daintiness, and the fact that most of my friends were guys put me in a more so-called “masculine” category. Back then, “women’s liberation” was a thing. I subscribed to a brand-new magazine called Ms.
Born in 1960, I turned 60 in October — already coming up on 61 this year. The sixties — a long time ago. And now: my sixties.
Predicting the Future.
When I was a girl, I remember dreaming about the year 2000. Wow. Two thousand! “That will be the year I turn 40. I’ll be so old!” I wrote my predictions for 2000 in my diary on…
