Life Begins At 40

My great-aunt Trudy, the sister of my maternal grandmother Mimi - with whom she lived for as long as I remember - had sort of a one-track mind. I mean this in the (good) sense that once she had a thought in her mind, it was sometimes a bit difficult to get her to think otherwise; she was committed to what she believed in. For example, I was ten years old and Trudy was sixty when my family finally managed to convince her to visit us, with Mimi - by flying. It was only from Fayetteville, North Carolina, to Washington National Airport (as it was know back then), but she had made up her mind that she got around just fine - thank you very much - by car; she didn't want to fly and that was that. Almost. I remember we met them at the airport and held up a sign congratulating her on finally taking her first flight.

When her husband Morris died, Trudy would not only not go back to the house where they lived, she wouldn't even go back to the street. However, if Trudy had ever got the urge to drive herself past the house she shared with Morris, she could have done it, although she didn't get her license until she was forty.

Like any woman, Trudy didn't like to be reminded of her age. She probably wasn't even thinking of the phrase "life begins at forty" when she went to get her driver's license, which happened to be on her fortieth birthday. When the state trooper - back then, driver's tests were official - approached her to give her the driving test, he might have been thinking to himself that this lady was finally getting her license and - like millions of teens today no doubt think - really starting her life. He may have even intended to tease her a little when he proclaimed, "Well, life begins today!" Trudy, no doubt thinking that the trooper was referring to her "advanced"
age, snapped back at the poor man, "How the hell did you know?"

The bottom line is, no matter what age you decide to do something, it's never too late. At least Trudy got her license. And, at least, she flew. Once.