Wisdom Tree

Back when I turned 30, I knew I was on the path for the life I’d always wanted. I was newly-married and had a job with potential at the Walt Disney Studios. I didn’t think I was old, but I remembered well when 30 did seem so.

  My brother and I were 9 and 11 when the SciFi show Logan’s Run debuted on CBS and we were obsessed. In the show, people in the City of Domes were not allowed to live beyond 30 and in each episode Gregory Harrison as Logan and Heather Menzies (who was Louisa in Sound of Music and actually graduated from John Burroughs High School in Burbank) tried to escape to a mythical “Sanctuary”. I remember whispering to my brother that our parents, then all of 32 years old, had had good lives. I mean really, what more do they have to look forward to? We were nearly old enough to fend for ourselves. I mean obviously, we wanted Logan and Jessica to live, but the City of Domes kind of had a point. 30 is pretty old.

  When I myself turned 30, I’d gained a lot of wisdom and I realized the good stuff was ahead and there was a reason Logan’s Run only had a 14-episode run.

  I remember when I was on the cusp of turning 40 and it felt pivotal and powerful. 40 was not what it was when my mom “got old.” She favored skirted swimsuits and mu-mu-style dresses. If she wore jeans, they were the soft-paneled pair from her last pregnancy five years earlier. Like Angela Lansbury and Lauren Bacall in middle age, mom’s matronly hair style made her look even older.

  My contemporaries were Halle Berry, Sarah Jessica Parker and Sandra Bullock and it seemed clear to me that the best was still yet to come. I was actively in the mom-zone, full of purpose and living in my power, expanding my wisdom.

  I turned 50 the day before my daughter graduated from High School and, while that time was loaded with milestones and the end of chapters for both of us, when I’d tell people I was turning 50, they always seemed stunned. “No way! You look like you’re only 40!” “You should check your birth certificate cuz there has to be a typo!” and I feasted on the feeling that I might just be winning this aging game. Clearly the wisdom of the internet was spot on. All you have to do is exercise and have a positive attitude!

  But over this past decade, shit is breaking down. Jogging was a highlight of my fitness routine in my 40s, but my knees and lower back doth protest so I don’t even try. I thought I was a miracle of the 1980s tanning addiction, my smooth skin sucking down moisturizers and facing the world all taught and tan. But sometime in the 2020s it surrendered to gravity and stopped drinking any of the elixirs rubbed into the cracks.  Various zombie-like decompositions litter my wake. Clumps of hair. Toe nails. Self esteem. I’ve got tinnitus, bunions, vericose veins. I’m falling apart.

  And when I tell people I just turned 60, not a one has said, “Wow! You don’t look it!” Naw. They smile and look at me with a “That tracks” expression while reminding me of the benefits of AARP.

  But still, I believe in exercising AND having a positive attitude.

  And so, I threw a 60’s themed hippie birthday party with great music and flower crowns. And on my actual birthday, my son and I took our dog, Luna, on a hike to the Wisdom Tree in Griffith Park. It seemed apropos to seek wisdom at this significant moment in my life at the revered tree that I can see from my neighborhood.

  As I was leaving my house, I saw my hippie flower crown from two nights earlier still looking vibrant on the counter, and I thought, “Let’s give it one last hurrah” and so, on the hike, I am wearing flowers in my hair like the 60-year-old hippie I obviously am. And the flowers were a hit! Around every bend of the hike, people said they loved my crown and I said “peace & love” and got people smiling. I’m humming Scott McKenzie’s San Francisco, meeting gentle people all along the path. Occasionally my son would share that it was my birthday, and I collected good wishes and few high fives and fist bumps. 

  Now, the thing about the Wisdom Tree hike is that it is pretty steep and rocky. Even my 25-year-old son acknowledged that it was a challenge, and he had to lift Luna and over a few precipitous precipices. And this dog is no short-legged Chihuahua. She’s a Labradane, a beautiful black cross between a Labrador retriever and a Great Dane.

  At the top of the mountain under the shade of the Wisdom tree, we three got hydrated and sat for a bit, silently contemplating life, or in Luna’s case a nearby squirrel. There is a giant American flag at the peak, meant to honor the victims of 9/11. And I watched as clusters of people, many speaking Spanish, took pictures with the flag. I wondered if it still represents hope for a better life to them and I personally prayed for some kind of wisdom to navigate my own challenged relationship with that symbol that used to make me proud.

  On the way down the mountain, Luna was pooped and pulled off the trail to plop down in any shade spot she came upon. This trail is NOT for the old or frail. I am still spreading the flower crown-inspired peace and love to everyone I pass, and I am feeling really good about my quest for wisdom, my connection with my son, my functional knees.

  We are almost to the bottom when we come upon a boy of about 15 who has kindly pulled off the narrow path so that my son and dog can pass. I am about 10 yards behind them and behind me I hear someone say, “Come on Johnny, catch up!” and Johnny says, “I have to wait for the old lady to pass.”

May 25, 2026

  I look behind me. I am the only visible person. Successfully-climbing-this-mountain-wisdom-seeking- me? I am the old lady Johnny is referring to. But I wasn’t going to let Johnny dampen my birthday joy. I am just about done with this hike and young Johnny here is already pink in the face and he still has two miles to go.

  Prevailing wisdom says “you cannot control external events, only your internal response to them.” So, I harness my peace and love. “Johnny,” I say, “Today is my 60^th birthday and I am definitely not old! Could I have done this hike if I was?” I give him that mom look under my flower crown, surely making me look even more like the old lady he thinks I am.

  Johnny mumbles something in response, already sweating at the base of the mountain on this Memorial Day Monday, and I am hopeful he thinks before he speaks in the future though he’ll probably be one of those guys who goes through life asking women with bellies when their baby is due.  

  My son and I crack up on the way home and I am grateful that I didn’t let a rude comment detour my joy. I guess the saying is right, “with age comes wisdom.”

As shared at Story Salon Wednesday, July 8, 2026.