Mike Parker: Reading about my ‘mid-life crisis’ made me feel even older
The other day I was skimming some of my old columns when I came across one that made me feel genuinely ancient. I wrote this particular column in 1991 – right around the time my oldest daughter Sara was preparing to leave the state – and me – to start a new life with her husband.
“I had my first major attack of mid-life crisis at 9:30 Saturday morning,” I wrote. “Sara, my oldest daughter, and her husband pulled away from my house with a U-Haul trailer headed for his home in Illinois.
“My little girl. Gone. Headed to the frozen North a thousand miles or more from her Mama and Daddy. What if she needs us? What if she needs me?”
Those words hit me with a poignancy that made me reel with emotion.
In my mind, I saw the nurse leaving the delivery room with Sara wrapped in a blanket. Only 16 months later, Rachel rested in what I called the “baby bun warmer” at the hospital as she pushed a tiny, ruddy fist toward her mouth.
Almost two years later, Lydia arrived at Lenoir Memorial – now UNC Health Lenoir – just 51 minutes after Sandra and I broke the emergency room doors. I was approaching 26 then and was Daddy to three little girls. Michael came nearly five years later.
“Now Sara has finished school, is married, and is gone,” I wrote. “Rachel is in school in Greenville, an ECU junior majoring in English. Lydia graduated just this June. My three little girls aren’t little girls anymore. Two have left the nest, and we must keep salt on Lydia’s tail to keep her from flying the coup.”
The words from “Sunrise, Sunset” haunted me then:
“I don’t remember growing older. When did they?” Tevye sings in “Fiddler on the Roof.” I knew just how he felt.
“Where have all my babies gone? Where has the past 20 years gone?” I lamented. Today, I would have to adjust that figure to nearly 50 years.
“I still have so many things I need to tell my children — so many warnings they need to hear and heed,” I wrote then. My role began changing from commander to adviser. Now, I am only an adviser who offers advice when asked. I want my children to be safe and prudent and happy. I also want them to be good parents to the children the Lord has given them.
But as I have gotten older, another reality has hit me. As I approach my mid-70s, I have had to cope with the deaths of many of my closest friends. I recall what Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote in “The Minister’s Black Veil”:
“Nearly all his parishioners, who were of mature age when he was settled, had been borne away by many a funeral: he had one congregation in the church, and a more crowded one in the churchyard.” That same sentiment applies to many of my friends in the nearly 53 years I have lived here in Kinston. In 2023, I saw at least five good friends walk that lonesome valley.
I may not remember growing older – that would be only one of many things I no longer remember – but I certainly feel the toll the years have taken on me – body and mind.
My greatest joy is still being with family. I love spending time with my adult children. I hope they can perceive even a little of the pride I take in them. I love spending time with my grandchildren—whether in their twenties, teens, or preteens. They seem so filled with the joy of life.
As Proverbs 17:6 says: “Children’s children are the crown of old men.”
I often feel I have rounded the last turn and am heading for the home stretch of life. I hope I can say with Paul, “I have fought a good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith.”
Mike Parker is a columnist for the Neuse News. You can reach him at mparker16@gmail.com.
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