Rock the Silver

Not quite a mountain goat

We spent a gorgeous weekend camping at Caprock Canyon State Park in Texas. We did an 8-10 mile hike down through the canyon and up near the top, and I am so excited to say that after all the troubles I had last year with my knees (which turned out to be my back). You can read the executive summary of my knee/back saga here.

I get up at 4:15 a.m. most weekdays to work out. I hate it, but it's worth it to stay in shape to see sights like this. We started off in the morning when it was cold, and I peeled the navy polarfleece layer about a third of the way through. Some of the trail was quite steep and rocky, but we took our time and played it safe. We didn't use to worry about falling, but now we do.

My husband and I have done rugged hiking like this in the past, and I always used to say I was like a mountain goat skillfully traversing the rough terrain. I'll just say this. My mountain goat days are over. My movements are stiff and careful, but I am moving, and that's good enough for me.

We came upon a young couple who did move like mountain goats, and they suggested we climb to a spot near the top, so we did to prove we still had it, and the view was spectacular. But the trail grew narrow and came quite close to the edge. I do not like edges! It wasn't marked well up there, and after awhile we turned around and returned the way we hiked in. We are perhaps less mobile but certainly smarter.

If you squint, you can see my little gray braids peeking out from my Tilley hat. One of the reasons I was looking forward to long hair is that I find long hair to be the best camping hair ever. You can wet it, braid it, clip it, put a hat on it -- whatever you want, and you never, ever wake up in the morning looking like Pee Wee Herman.

We were both whipped when we got back. We just hung out, read. Eventually took a shower, which felt amazing. I stretched for about 30 minutes, and I really think that saved me. Woke up with sore quads, but that's about it. Other than feeling relaxed and happy to be healthy and alive.

I used to take mobility for granted, but I never will again. Not to say that I won't lose it one day, but at least I'll have enjoyed every moment I had it.

March Weirdness

For basketball fans, this month is about March Madness. For me, March is about weirdness. Life and death and defying the odds. I've been lucky, but I should probably stay home tomorrow. I'm not getting on any airplanes, that's for sure.

First of all, March 11 is my sister's birthday. March 11 also happens to be my 14-year cancer anniversary. I've always felt bad that my sister's birthday will be forever marked by my own bad fortune. But I've actually had good fortune when it comes to surviving cancer, and we Pekars are good at rolling with the punches, so I'm sure she doesn't mind. Happy 60th, Cheryl!

Some of you have heard this before, but I repeat it periodically because it's important for long-term survivors to be visible. Everyone needs to know that sometimes good things happen to people who get cancer.

On March 11, 1999, I was diagnosed with cancer that turned out to be stage 3, grade 3 Primary Peritoneal Cancer. This type of cancer is virtually identical to ovarian cancer except it originates in the lining of the abdomen. I had surgery to remove the tumors, six rounds of chemotherapy and another surgery to check for any remaining microscopic cancer. I was given a clean bill of health and have been fine ever since.

Now I get to say I am in my 15th year of survival! How cool is that? I don't say I beat cancer, and I don't say I'm cured, even though I am a long-term survivor. It makes me sad to read about cancer survivors who use words like terminal and incurable, because in my mind, who really knows? In many ways, I am typically a glass-half-empty kind of person, but my inner sunny optimist emerges when it comes to cancer. I know firsthand that anything is possible.

Last year on March 11, I fell off my bicycle and broke my wrist. A minor thing, purely a coincidence, but it stopped me in my tracks. Nothing really bad had happened to me since cancer. How dare this happen to me? I had lapsed into my Type AAA behavior, and the accident made me realize it was time to chill if I wanted to live another 15 years.

Some say there is no such thing as a coincidence, especially if you look for the clues.

Then we come around to March 26. It is my mother's birthday, and she died on this exact day seven years ago. Her mother also died on her birthday. And if that isn't odd enough for you, my husband's mother and my mother died within hours of each other ... his in Maine, mine in California. We each went home to be with our families. What we really wanted was to grieve together, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

Sometimes we get wrapped up in life and all the things that drive us. Even after surviving this killer, I have to constantly remind myself to lighten up. Yes, we have dreams and demons and obligations, but please remember to pause from time to time, breathe deeply and inhale the goodness of being alive and the enormous privilege of aging.

A gentlewoman's guide to rebellion

A colleague said like it or don't, I should think of age as a threat when it comes to my career. I said yeah, I get it, but I'm only 57! When did that get old? Then I asked myself whether it would be any different if I were 60 or 65 or 70? Chronological age is irrelevant when you are talking about skills, talent, passion and drive.

Another colleague referenced a baby boomer executive who is -- gasp -- over 60, and she said, "Why is he still here? He should just go."

The fact is, there are a lot of us baby boomers in the workplace. We are getting older, and everyone else needs to get over it.

I embrace aging and happily tackle this topic, because I'm not scared. What I've tried to do is create a safe house on the internet for exploring this chapter of life with humor, honest introspection and critical observation.

What a naive daredevil! Sadly, I've come to realize that in most interpersonal exchanges, age probably needs to go in the bucket with race, religion and sexual orientation. Proceed with caution. Save it for people you trust. Choose your words carefully.

Here's where I went wrong. When my colleague mentioned the 60-something executive, I said, "I'm not far behind." I wanted to challenge her, like I dare you to tell me it's time to go. But I erred by making it personal. She thought I was younger, and I blew my cover. I was now different in her eyes. Old.

Are we at the beginning of a revolution? It feels like the 60s and 70s, when women and people of color accelerated the movement by crafting a language of pride and respect.

We said women are not girls. Ms. became a magazine and a title that did not identify us by our relationship to a man.

We said let's stop categorizing everyone by the color of their skin. She's not a black engineer -- she's an engineer. We learned how to say stop, I don't want to hear an inappropriate joke (instead of suffering in silence).

It's risky territory, but we do need to have conversations about age, just so we can say, stop, that's inappropriate. But we must be smarter about it. Language matters. Words drive change. The right words will help us think about ourselves differently and counter the negative stereotypes of aging that permeate the landscape of life. What will be the language for fighting ageism?

Let's start with ourselves. We have to stop defining ourselves by age. It's just one dimension of who we are. Joking that we're over the hill or forever 29 or 60 years young doesn't do us any good.

Every time some guy calls his wife of 30 years his bride or refers to a 50-year old woman as young lady, a small fuzzy animal dies.

I want a do-over of my fumble with the colleague who apparently wants people over 60 to exit the workspace. The next time I don't want to make it personal. I could let it pass in silent acknowledgement -- a subtle nod that says they're old, and we're not. All I've done is fake my way into the club. I haven't tried to change anything.

One could remind these dolts that age is a protected class just like race, gender, religion or disability. That might put a little fear in their corporate souls. But I'm not out to make an enemy or get anyone fired. I genuinely like these people in spite of their occasional bouts of uninspired thinking.

Shall we think of this as a gentlewoman's guide to rebellion? Is there such a thing? Because I'm not a very good militant. I seek to enlighten and educate. I've been practicing what I might say when confronted with insensitive remarks about age. Something kind and positive that leaves no doubt but isn't defensive. Nothing sounds right.

What would you say?

50 shades of hair colors

Happy New Year! This is my New Year's Day attire: jammies, robe, third-day hair and no makeup. And you know what? I like it.

And I really like my hair. I was back in the hair science laboratory over the holidays conducting experiments on my head. Here's what I learned, as it applies to me, at this precise moment in time ... because everyone knows The Hair Paradox states that as soon as you think you know something, you will find out later that you were wrong.

1. The magazines want you to have hair that is hard to maintain.
2. You don't need a $100 cut to look good.
3. Silicone conditioners detangle and prevent breakage.
4. Silicone conditioners can eventually make hair dull and less wavy.
5. Shampoos with sulfates are OK once in awhile to eliminate build-up.
6. Styling products are overrated.
7. Less product = less buildup = less sulfate.
8. A little bit of silicone goes a long way.
9. Use silicone in the tangle-prone area on the back of the neck.
10. Use silicone-free conditioner everywhere else.
11. Shampoo as little as possible.
12. Condition when you wet it even when you don't wash.
13. Blow-dry as little as possible.
14. Don't brush as much.
15. Wear it up a lot.
16. Use hair-friendly accessories like sticks and french twist combs.
17. Finger comb when you put it up for a fuller look.
18. Do not compare your hair to the hair you see on TV.
19. Love the hair you have.
20. Don't judge someone by the color of her hair.

About #20 ... I love my silver hair, and my mission is to present it as a hip and stylish choice. That is not changing. What is changing is my perspective. I understand not everyone wants to join team gray, and that's cool. I've been judgmental about those who have made a different choice, and I regret that.

We are part of a much larger team, and there's plenty of room for everyone at the party. What I see is an emerging online community of amazing midlife women writing about the journey in all its parts. I want to be part of a dialogue that ultimately transcends hair color. Where are we going? What are we going to do next? What are you going to wear?

I'll be the one rocking the silver.

Gray-haired woman gets promoted

In the category of shocking but true, I have been promoted to a challenging position at work reporting to the president of the company. I've been interviewing for other jobs more along the lines of what I already do, but with this one, they came looking for me, and it was an opportunity I couldn't turn down.

My email exploded yesterday when the word went out. Lots of congratulations and hallway handshakes, of course. Most of my colleagues were genuinely delighted and proud, but a few expressed concern about how hard the job will be. Like, who wants hard?

Me! I'm just not the type to slither off to a comfortable place and rest. That's a recipe for an early exit, and I'm just getting started. Do I wish an opportunity like this would have come earlier in my career? Sure, but it took all this time to learn what I've learned and evolve into who I am! I'm honored my company's leadership wanted to leverage that experience.

Those who expressed something along the lines of sympathy about the new job were all late-career professionals. The young ones get it, especially the women. They are not scared of hard work. I think what they see in me a balanced fun person who works really hard and is successful -- and that inspires them. I heard words like badass and role model and pimp. I had to explain to my husband that pimp is good.

I'm glad I didn't listen to all that crap about gray hair ruining your career.

Visibility is a choice

For a couple of years now I've heard that women over the age of 50 become invisible. I didn't pause to give this sentiment much consideration, because I don't feel invisible. I feel smart, successful, strong and beautiful. I thought, well, maybe I didn't understand, so I spent some time researching the origins of this theory.

I'm sure this kind of thinking has been tossed around for decades, possibly centuries, but it seemed to gain traction last year when an internet survey found that eight out of 10 women over the age of 50 think men no longer notice them.

Oh! I get it now. We're invisible to men. I love men, particularly the one I married, but I was like, who cares?

My first reaction was that it's different if you are in search of a partner. If it's true that older women are invisible to men, I'm glad I shopped early. Then I realized there are other life penalties for being ignored by men, who are often in positions of power. Being invisible can affect everything from how you are treated when you buy anything from a hamburger to a house, and being invisible can certainly affect your livelihood.

Some women might feel invisible, but I believe it's a choice. We allow ourselves to wallow in the pity party of lost youth. We look in the mirror, and it's hard for us to imagine that the person beneath this aging shell has the potential to transform and emerge confident and powerful and better than ever.

In the end, visibility is not so much about what you wear or the color of your hair but how you feel about yourself. Are you engaged in meaningful pursuits? Relevant conversations on important topics of the day? Are you committed to lifelong learning? Do you have hopes and dreams that will take your full commitment to achieve, or do you see middle age as the beginning of the end? Possibly a well-earned rest?

I choose hard work, relevance and confidence. I choose to be visible.

Nancy Pelosi and the Hollaback Girls

A reporter asked Nancy Pelosi if it was time for her to step aside and let a younger person lead the Democratic Party in the U.S. House of Representatives. She is 72. You can read about it on Senior Planet.

I like the part where she says, "Let's for a moment honor this as a legitimate question." I'm not so sure about the hollaback girls crying out, "Discrimination! Discrimination!" I was expecting a sharp and reasoned rebuttal not pained laughter and silly shout-outs. Nancy eventually gets to the point, but it was a missed opportunity to show what she's made of ... what women leaders are made of.

As the camera scanned the tight altered faces of her aging counterparts, I thought, well, you can run from the truth, but truth will lap you every time.

I wrote about Nancy two years ago, describing her as someone who had seemingly had some work done on her face to preserve the image of youth. I called it, "Nancy Pelosi and the Cloak of Invisibility." As I see it, she tried to hide her age, and now she's shocked when someone rudely rips off the cover. 

There's a connection to Harry Potter. Here's what I wrote:

Whenever Harry wanted to hide, he whipped out the invisibility cloak. Covered by the cloak of invisibility, he could go anywhere and do anything without being seen. Harry was no longer the dorky kid at Hogwarts ... he was a super-human sleuth who could penetrate enemy chambers with no one the wiser.

Nancy has her own little cloak. Hanging out with the boys in Washington, where it seems to me old women are eccentric or invisible. Old Nancy is invisible. New Nancy is hot and definitely not eccentric. Whether you agree with her politics or not, she's a powerful person in the chambers of Congress... a powerful 70-year-old woman who happens to look decades younger. No one's the wiser.

I worry that all woman pay a price for the vanity of a few. We are smarter and stronger and better than we've ever been, but are we irrelevant unless we cheat time? It doesn't have to go down like that. We all want to look our best as long as we can, but there will soon come a day when we will have to choose wisdom and authenticity over fading vestiges of youth. That's when we take the floor and shout, "This is what 70 looks like."

Then we kick ass.

Mid-life job interview

One tiresome tale I hear all the time about gray hair is that it will ruin your career. Last week I interviewed for two jobs, and the only person who thought about my hair was me.

The jobs are with the company I currently work for, so it's not anything I need to keep secret. Another advantage of interviewing with your current employer is that they already know you. They know your work, your reputation. And they know what you look like. In my case, they were not expecting Career Barbie. It's always good to meet expectations.

I did worry a bit about whether I should wear my hair up or down. There are people out there who don't like long hair on middle-aged women, and they really don't like long gray hair on anyone walking upright. I played around with it some and decided to wear it down. My french twist looks good from the back, but I haven't quite mastered the full frontal updo. It can look severe, and hair down made me feel approachable.

What to wear? I was flying for both interviews with no stop home in between, so that made it trickier. I only bought two new items -- an ivory silk blouse to go under my jacket and some black 50 denier tights. I hate pantyhose, so I felt my only choices were tights or pants. Since I was traveling, I wore wrinkle-free St. John Knits. They are expensive, but they are figure flattering and last forever. I buy mine on eBay for a fraction of what you'd pay in a store.

My choice was black skirt, black tights and black flats. I wore the tweedy knit jacket zipped up with a contrasting tank peeking out for interview #1, and I wore the same outfit with the silk blouse under it and the jacket open for interview #2. I felt professional, comfortable and confident, and I can only hope that was reflected during the interviews. I did not break out in hives or sweat profusely -- which is always a plus.

As I look back on the week, I'm glad I put myself out there. I'm not a braggy person, but a job interview is no time to be modest. I wanted to come across as confident but not arrogant, and I believe I accomplished that. It was self-affirming to focus on what I bring to the table and present myself as a serious and competitive candidate. We may be mid-life, but to borrow from Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, there's no need to leave before we leave.

I gave it my best. I may or may not get an offer, but it was still a great experience no matter what. If you've been afraid to go out and interview for jobs because you think you're too old or too gray or too anything, I encourage you to reconsider. Packaging your experiences for an audience will help you see yourself in a new light.

A short guide to a long career

Work is hard. Get over it.

If you’re fortunate enough to have a job in this economy, you’re probably doing more with less, and it does get hard. Some of the people I work with talk about about bailing out. Some of these people are 30 years old. This is where having gray hair comes in handy. We’re tough to kill.

Maybe we are what they call slow burners. In it for the long haul. That’s me, but only because I reinvented my relationship with work. It’s all too easy to succumb to pressure and stress. I feel it, but I also practice letting it go. Over and over. I tell myself it’s not healthy to sweat the small stuff.

And it is small stuff. Having cancer and getting over it gave me that perspective. Right after I was diagnosed, I visited a counselor. I thought we’d talk about my disease and dealing with the possibility of death, but we ended up talking mostly about work. I had no good role models. My father was unemployed for most of my childhood, and my mother worked at a minimum wage job she hated.

The counselor helped me strike a balance. Work will always have a very high priority in my life, but it doesn’t define who I am. For those of us who missed the day on self-esteem, it takes a little while -- like maybe half your life -- to get comfortable in your skin, but after that, everything else snaps into place.

Once you stuff your demons in the trunk, you can turn your focus outward and use your talents to elevate the enterprise. I find it energizing to engage with an eclectic mix of people and help my team stay sane while they solve challenging problems one bite at a time. That’s good stress. But I also know from experience that the stress of constantly comparing yourself to others or taking every little slight, snub or dysfunction personally is destructive.

The find-your-passion people can keep looking, and I wish them well, but I subscribe to the theory of last man standing. In this model, I give it everything I’ve got and do my absolute best to add value every minute of every single day. But I don’t imagine that my job will fill an empty hole inside of me. We’re business partners not soul mates.

That’s my take on it, anyway. Roll with the stress, make it to the end and enjoy a rewarding career that pays the bills. Draw strength from the human interaction as much as the work itself because one day you will be in a room by yourself wondering where everyone went.

Radio Donna recommends

Oh man oh man oh man, if you haven't heard Alabama Shakes and the raw emotional power of lead singer Brittany Howard -- fasten your seat belts and hold on. I got goose bumps the first time I heard this song, and I am hooked. Their debut CD Boys and Girls is money well spent. Brittany was a postal worker who just quit the day job. Talk about inspiration!

I know nothing about music. Can't read it, play it, sing it or write it, but I believe music has the power to nourish and heal. My husband calls me, "Radio Donna." I sing songs to myself all day long. Sometimes the music creeps into my outside voice. My husband will hear a bit and wonder, oh, what's that, and then he realizes it's just radio Donna.

Hold On by the Alabama Shakes. Let me know what you think.