Turing 60’s a bitch, but it’s better than the alternative. Check out longtime postcard fest participant Amy Miller’s fest wrapup. Excerpt:
Serial and random
I started out the Fest bent on seriality. Weeks earlier, I knew exactly what I wanted to write about: I’d turned 60 a few months earlier, and it was weirding me out. I just could not believe I was 60. I know lots of people in their 60s who suddenly got hernias and prolapsed bladders and tumors. When I think of 60 I see washed-out gray, stooped, moving slowly. Possibly shaking a rolled-up newspaper at a kid riding a bike too fast. 60 has moved in like a houseguest I didn’t invite and will not leave. I guess I’ll have to make my peace with 60; in the meantime, I plan to kayak the hell out of it.
So the first few poems of the month were all about 60—puns and visual images of the number, free-associated strings of maladies and misery. But by about the fifth poem, I could feel that I wasn’t making any peace with 60, and not even very much sense. I’m not sure any of those poems are keepers. So I moved on to other ideas.
Amy, I’m 61, life is good and I love your inspired participation in the postcard fest. (Dear reader, don’t miss out on the fun Amy has every summer. You can register for the 2023 today and have 56 days to write 31 poems!) Thank you Susan Kay Anderson for the heads-up. & check out our 2019 interview with Amy:
Today I am 74. Poetry didn’t even find me until I was 65. I am not, nor do I suffer from any of the things you fear with 60. Poetry just keeps taking me deeper. I have done the Fest for four years. Through the year I continue to send poetry postcards to a list of 14 friends and family members about twice a month. I have a “most days” daily practice which has become foundational to my life. I don’t paint my postcards but they are all hand decorated.
In response to this post I am going to sign up for 2023 today.
Your testimonial is wonderful! Your story is awesome. Thank you for being part of this community!
Participating in the fest has grounded my poetry practice. I look forward to it each year. And I always mail my postcards from my own mailbox…I like to think maybe I brighten my mail person’s day!
I took part in both grp 1 & grp 17 this year. I turned 76 trombones in July & though the numbers, they go higher, the mental age will never match. I may walk 76 at times but I’ll never age mentally beyond 59…a nice place to stay, I think. The participation in grp 17 was quite accidental & though I tried to renig, Paul saw my potential (or perhaps speed-read past my words requesting a refund? 🤣)…& I finally just gave in to it. Opportunity for growth! But, NO! I have no plans for more than one grp in 2023! Paul, no speed reading! Maggie Westvold wants one grp only!
23 will be my 4th year & I thoroughly enjoy all that’s involved in partaking. Just bought a bigger tote as the ‘stuff’ has multiplied. Favorite backstory this year telates to a vintage card I sent to Cheryl Hale, SC, depicting The Music Man parade, Harold & Miriam marching, she in heels! in a parade!
So I wrote a silly convo btwn the two & in the last line, Miriam said to an overly-placating Harold, ‘Screw you, Harold!’ Cheryl in SC ‘got the biggest kick out of’… my silliness…as her fiance’s name is Harold! Who knew?!🤣🤣🤣