Mid-Life Crisis Part One: My Secret (cont.)

(for the first segment, please click here)

Aristotle once said:

"You are not only responsible for your life, but doing the best at this moment puts you in the best place for the next moment."

So meaningful, so profound.

Ok, it was really Oprah who said that, but it got me asking a really important question to myself, one that I hadn't thought about until this very moment, which is: When did I start liking OPRAH??

And one disturbing answer put me in the best place for the next disturbing answer.

It wasn't during my adolescent years. I watched Phil Donahue then. Oh and how I loved Phil. I learned about Peace, Apartheid, Feminism, Consumer Protection, and Flying Nuns. Wait, joking about the nuns, they didn't fly, they slept with priests. . . and they weren't on Phil, they were on Geraldo. Did I mention I was a latch key kid?

Anyhooo, Phil Donahue gave me a broader view of the tiny dysfunctional world in which I lived. I learned a lot for having watched it since the 9th grade and it seemed that if there were a more appropriate escape for me during that time in my life, I wouldn't want to know it. It was Phil I wanted. I even stood in line for seven hours when I was 19 to be a member of his studio audience about Vegas Showgirls. Yeah, completely lame topic but there was NO WAY I was going to pass up a chance to see him LIVE in my hometown.

But college, Taiwan, college, mission, college, dysfunctional six week relationship, graduation, and the show's cancellation came and went so Phil slowly drifted away. I did watch his show on MSNBC in 2003 but it was canceled after a couple of months. Still a bit annoyed at that. He was the only commentator speaking out against the war at that time . . . wait, I just put the cancellation and his stance together. See? I would've seen the correlation earlier had The Phil Donahue Show still been on the air.

Then I spent four months of graduate school laying on the couch watching Rosie. That was smack in the middle of my bout with depression and oh, she was good. She was really good. For that one hour a day she made me laugh. and laugh. and laugh. and. laugh.

But that was it as far as my daytime tv experience went and then . . .

Three years ago, I moved back here to Laie with my husband. I was teaching Seminary with a wonderful partner and sometimes she would mention Oprah. "Oprah??" I would think, "People still watch Oprah?" Still not intrigued, I went along my merrie way of "prime time only" tv, watching my all time favorite show, The West Wing.

But about 2 years ago I began to tune into The Oprah Winfrey Show. I can't think of the hows or the whys of this transition. I've been racking my mind the last little while trying to think of the reasons or the context of the first time I tuned in and enjoyed it and then tuned in again and again.

The only correlation (I'm making them myself lately, without Phil's help) I can think of is that the same time I started watching Oprah was about the same time I turned 35. . . Middle Age.

Everybody knows that Oprah's show caters to middle aged women. After all, she's been middle aged for 15 years now. She knows we deal with trying to find good books to read without having to sift through reviews. She knows we've gained weight and went from our size 6 banana republic jeans to wearing skirts only. She knows the feeling of entering an age where you are so out of touch with what's hip that you still use the word "hip". Not to mention the words, "the bomb". She knows we have eye twitches, facial hair, and sprouting greys. She knows we are seeking legitimacy in every and any way possible.

So she meets our needs, she gives us hope. She has our new age favorite, Lois Hay. Our Heart Surgeon monosyllabic Renaissance man, Dr. Oz. The queen of all meals quick, easy, and impressive[enough], Rachel Ray. And let's not forget the beloved Dr. Phil McGraw: tall, bald, and . . . well, tall and bald. He's the wonderful epitome of someone who is 50 something and able to make his talk show host dream come true regardless of smarts (or lack thereof). He's proved that success really is 99% perspiration.

The point is, I am middle aged now and my needs have changed. I'm different then I was 20, 10, even 5 years ago. Hope is what I need now. Hope that my life isn't over. Hope that I can still be fun and engaging. Hope that I will never be looking for inspiration from "Chicken Soup for the Hip".

Still I must say where I lack hope, I've gained courage. Something no icon can give. I believe courage comes with age. At least for me it has.

And therein lies the rub. Because you see, I have that secret wish. But do I fulfill the wish out of my need for legitimacy; that I'm not too old for anything? or do I fulfill it because it's something I've wanted to do for 10 years but not until now do I have the courage to follow through with it? I sometimes feel too old to carry on with my wish. But mostly, I feel too old to be concerned with the rules that prevented me from doing it 10 years ago. Believe me the great man who made the rule is beloved by me and millions of others. I am hoping to live just as long and be half as awesome as he was.

But still, as I've reached middle age there seems to be rules and then there seems to be RULES. And my secret desire to get that nose stud seems to fall more under the "not recommended" umbrella then the actual RULES rules. And my middle aged chutzpa (or mid-life crisis) is there to validate my desire all the way. So I have a plan. . .