A Revelation in 2023: Is There a Teenager Within You?

"Hey! Are you a teenager?"..."Hey!...Hey! Are you a teenager?"...

The words were kind of faint, what with my headband covering my ears and my faux fur-trimmed hood pulled up around my face, impeding my peripheral vision as well as my hearing. I was the only person on the path around the soccer park, so far, or so I thought. I pivoted my head around to take in more fully my surroundings when I saw through the chain link fence that a few kids from the elementary school playground were headed my direction, led by a little, I'm guessing, 8-year old boy, and he was asking me, "Hey! Are you a teenager?"

My first thought was to reply, "No, Honey. I'm old enough to be your grandmother." I took a moment to choose a more tactful reply. With a delighted grin spreading across my lips, which I'm certain he couldn't see in the shadows of my hood, as he stood a good ten to twelve yards away, I said, "Ah...No, I'm quite a bit older than that."

"Why are you walking alone?" He asks.

"I'm enjoying my own company, and I like to get outside." Granted, these were not the most inspired answers, but I was caught totally by surprise.

Questions asked and answered, he bade me good-bye and one of his cohorts waved at me as they turned and headed back to the playground. God, I love kids!

As I continued my walk on this gloriously sunny 14-degree-fahrenheit day, with the pristine snow all around me glistening like a diamond mine with an iridescent blue ceiling overhead, I contemplated his question. Had teenagers been a phenomena they'd just been discussing in class? What prompted such a question? Was he interested in dating one? Whatever it was, I found myself walking--might have been a few skips in there--an extra couple laps around the park, feeling like a million bucks.

I'd been a kid on the playground once, idolizing all those amazingly cool and groovy (yes, I was a prodigy of the seventies) and beautiful, self-assured-seeming high schoolers passing through on their way to the cafeteria.

I couldn't wait for my husband to get home from work so I could share my news. Of course, we both came up with all kinds of clever replies to the are-you-a-teenager question: Kel's was, "Yeah! Several times over." Mine was, "No, but you just made my day." Another thought passed through my mind, "No, thank god!"

Of all the chapters in my life, being a teenager is not one I'd like to experience again. It wasn't bad really--it's just that I had put so much pressure on myself to be perfect and fit in. Plus there was that whole hormonal body-changing thing. I had no idea who I was, much less a whisper of what I wanted to be when I grew up. When I feel back into those days, I was so consumed with self-doubt and if-only-I-woulda, coulda, shoulda-s, that I walked around with a nervous stomach full of bees much of the time. I had a lot of hypnotic (and mostly well-meant) parent-teacher-preacher-peer tapes looping through my mind.

I certainly would not have been caught dead dressed the way I was yesterday. I was sporting my new toffee-colored Olympia down-filled stadium parka, Eddie Bauer flannel-lined polar pants tucked into Uggs snow boots, and a headband and mittens. I know--I was just "sick" with being on trend, a real late-late-late-bloomer. Last fall I'd decided that I was going to get out and make myself walk daily throughout the winter if it wasn't too icy--and that I was going to have warm enough gear that I couldn't use our sometimes sub-zero temps as an excuse not to get outside. I love nature and I love all the seasons. I feel so good after being out in it, even if it's just a few minutes--and it does wonders for my attitude about life.

When I was a teenager (late 70's, early 80's), I didn't think it was cool to be dressed to actually be warm. I shivered my buns off through most of those years in a polyester-filled short ski jacket. And, heaven-forbid, I mess up my hair with a cap. I don't remember what I had for snow boots, except that I know I didn't own the red-laced, round-toed mountain boots that the more popular girls, whom I admired and envied, wore at the time. I did have a pair of wavy-soled Earth shoes, though, and my jeans were Wranglers with rivets. I also had a pair of red-soled saddle shoes from the fifties that made a comeback in the seventies.

I had enough clothes, and sewed many of my shirts and dresses and skirts, thanks to a patient mom who taught me how to sew, but my closet wasn't jam-packed by any means. We bought a couple pair of jeans for the school year, along with a sweater or two, and new socks and underwear. I remember getting teased once for wearing the same green V-necked sweater over and over. All the clothes I wore had been freshly laundered, but I did have my favorites, which I wore quite a bit. We also had school clothes and then the everyday clothes we changed into when we got home to the farm.

Actually, I still have that trait of wearing the same thing. I veered off it a few years ago and played with allowing myself to have a full closet, but I tired of it and gave most of them away. However, I walked away from the experience knowing more what types and styles of clothing suited me and how I spend my time. I had quite a bit of fun with the experience, and then I was ready to clear my closets and lighten things up.

I don't know if you could even use the word style with the era of my teenage years. In looking back with what I know now, we girls were being strongly encouraged to test the waters of taking on what were traditionally men's careers, and that masculine element was reflected in the clothing fads of the time. I was good in science and math, and my career counselor was definitely trying to sell me on going into engineering or computer science.

Most of the time, we resembled no-nonsense office secretaries or the old ideas of how a librarian looked, and dressed in efficient earth-toned, subdued woolen, corduroy, or cotton twill skirts or pants with sensible shoes--a ruffled blouse being a concession to our femininity. The old ladies in the "Where's the beef?" commercial in the eighties springs to mind--except we sported perms instead of buns.  

Today's librarians are much more diverse and fun in how they dress--I recently complimented one of our librarians on how he was dressed. Yeah, I actually used the word dapper--it just popped into my head and I went with it.

I had fun my junior and senior years, and I just celebrated our 40th high school reunion last summer with several of my friends and classmates. They will always hold a special place in my heart--we were in it together, and we came through those tougher for some than others times relatively intact.

Some of the harder high school experiences get shoved to the back of my mind, but they still loop through from time to time. For instance, I was highly empathetic, didn't know it, and it wasn't a phenomenon understood by the average person at the time. Public speaking in front of strangers was an embarrassing horror story for me every single time. I did fine in my English class speeches with my classmates as an audience, but put me in front of people I didn't know and my sentences just fell apart. A barrage of feelings would blow my train of thought to smithereens--and there I'd be, blank of thought and bawling. I can laugh now, but it didn't feel pretty at the time. 

The speech teacher who wasn't even my own teacher (who I'm certain we had a karma thing going between us) belittled me even further and chewed me out for being such an abomination to speech after I embarrassed myself while talking with the school board about allowing us to put our band and chorus credits toward graduation. He may have wanted to help me by getting me to take his course, but degrading me didn't support his efforts, if that indeed is what he was going for.

 I've been spending more time with this post than I initially thought. I wasn't going to over think it and just allow myself to enjoy my wonderful Are you a teenager? moment. But it's caused me to make some connections, and I feel they are important.

You see, I lost a teenager last spring--my nephew. He'd just found it too hard to cope and he took himself out without really giving me or his dad and brother or the rest of his family--people who loved him--the chance to really let him know he wasn't alone. I'm keeping myself open to going beyond with this story--letting it unfold in the very strong hope that it all has a greater, grander purpose yet to be revealed. 

And....I still miss him right now....at the time of his passing, I mourned the loss of him and how he went about it--something I've learned I need to do to keep things flowing and balanced for myself. I've learned to allow all of it--the pain and the sorrow....and....I 've learned to also keep myself open to hope. I trust myself that I wouldn't have created this story for myself without something more in heart and mind--something like an ultimate blessing....

Those teenage years are bridging years. Those are some of the toughest times a person can experience--leaving the old and familiar and pressing forward into the unknown brand new. As a young kid, about the age of the little boy on the playground, I clearly remember dreading growing up. It wasn't that I didn't want to take responsibility for myself--I had chores and was taught quite well by my parents how to take care of myself. It was the fact that I think I was still young enough to be somewhat consciously awake yet--not yet so deeply indoctrinated into thinking I was just a Little Human at the whim of some other puppet master. 

I think I had an inner sense of knowing I had laid out for myself some tough and challenging experiences ahead, like losing loved ones to death, losing my home on the farm--my safe and sacred space. We humans go through a great deal of loss in many ways on this road to wisdom....and we're in the midst of that right now in an unprecedented way....

These are bridging years, my beloved humanity, and we're all teenagers once again, leaving the old behind, bodies transforming along with life as we once knew it. It's all going brand new. While there are some truly warm and fuzzy beautiful moments and experiences in our past, there were a lot of tough things, too, that we just muddled through and handled the best we knew how at the time, even if it may have looked retarded to someone else. The point is, we're here....and....we did it all together. I don't care what roles you played--good, bad, or ugly--or what side of the Veil you're currently inhabiting. We did it--and you all have my immense gratitude for the ways in which you touched my life, because through it I gained so much wisdom for myself, for my soul....and that's infinitely precious....

My beloved little gentleman, you have no idea what a bright light you were in an idyllic winter day in Minot, ND, or that you would inspire a dreamwalk into the days of my youth. I'm still laughing and smiling and couldn't wait to write about it. It was definitely a Dear Diary moment for me. With young and inquisitive and forthright and brave, sweet people like you in the world--well, I just can't help but celebrate that our world, even though it seems to be a jumbled, ruined mess at times--it's in good hands....we're building bridges....Thank you for being an absolutely delightful story in my book....

January 12th, 2023--I'll never forget it! It was grand!