Last night I was reading a book in which the 92-year-old grandma was “wearing a pink and orange print cotton blouse with a tissue wadded up in the sleeve, bright blue spandex shorts, white tennies, and stockings rolled just above her knees.”
… to a funeral.
Her only concession after being chastised by her family? She’d be sure to get some black shorts for an evening viewing.
What some might call crazy or eccentric, I aspire to.
I’m not sure when this became my goal, but I have some ideas.
It might be my memories of my mom who loved nothing more than dressing up like Dolly Parton or any other celebrity to entertain at her annual hospital volunteer appreciation banquet. This was a serious affair – she was the director of volunteers for a large hospital and her banquets often included more than 500 people, including her bosses.
And she wasn’t concerned about what people would think. She was in her 70s, she had confidence, she had fun (and she loved dressing up!).
And while previous volunteer directors gave speeches applauding the work of the hospital volunteers, my mom’s way of doing it was memorable. You never left an annual banquet without being entertained by her imagination and bravery. But despite her showmanship, she had a way of making you feel like YOU were the star of the show.
I don’t know about you, but I always really enjoy being around eccentric people. Give me a 90-year-old woman who is laughing loudly, wearing neon blue eyeshadow, and talking about her first kiss, and I’ve just found my new role model.
What is it about people like this that makes me feel good? Maybe it’s because they seem to be living their lives without censure, no longer caring as much about “propriety” and instead focusing on living a life that is authentic to them. Maybe they figure, “I’ve spent my life so far caring what others think of me … I’m going to spend the remainder caring what I think of me.”
No wonder I have crazy-lady aspirations.