Marla Vendret

1965 doesn't seem like it was so very long ago...at least not to babyboomers. I have the rare distinction of being born in the last month of the babyboomer generation. (That's me in my mom's arms, by the way.) It scarcely seems possible that I'm 44, going on 45. How did that happen? When did that happen? In the grand scheme of things, I've barely lived. I could easily live another 200 years before I'd feel deserving of the term "middle age," and yet, here I am.

What's most unfair about hitting the 40s isn't the maturity and confidence that comes with it--I love that aspect!--it's feeling as though I'll not be able to do as much with that maturity and confidence as I would have if I did have 100 or more years to go. As many have expressed, "childhood is wasted on the young." It takes maturity to realize what a gift childhood actually is. If I were to have the health, energy, and enthusiasm of youth with the maturity and confidence of middle age, what couldn't I do? What wouldn't I do?

About a year ago I read an article by a modern-day genuis. I can't remember his specialities, except that it included a secondary degree in genetics. I think his original degree was in bio-engineering, but I may be mistaken. Anyway, he theorizes that aging is actually a disease. If we cure the disease, we could live forever. Other scientists laughed themselves silly...until he challenged them to prove him wrong. They couldn't.

What an intriguing thought. Can you imagine what we'd do if we cured the "disease" of aging? Whew. We could change careers every 40 years or so. We'd probably redefine the concept of marriage. Our entire society would have to be re-thought.

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