Turning 50, and escaping the bear

by M. Leth-Soerensen
Sun contributor

“Turning 50 is nothing to worry about” my elder cousin of 10 years told me recently in a phone conversation. “It’s when you are my age that having birthdays becomes a nuisance. I reminded her that she had said the same thing 10 years ago, and that I expected the same evaluation from her a decade from now. My cousin Kirsten, by the way, is beautiful, tall, slender, and one of the most talented, creative and energetic people I know.
Set in my shorter stature, and usually fighting to lose 10 pounds, I become more comfortable with myself as decades go by. The daredevil in me emerges more and more as I age and find I have less to lose. When I turned 49 I decided to conquer my fear of diving into a lake, at our little Canadian retreat just north of Sault St. Marie. Now, after a number of belly flops, I am no longer afraid when I leave the hot sauna and plunge into the cool lake. My senses are on full alert when I throw that towel aside and swim among the rock bass that surround the dock.
A few days before turning half-a-century old I asked my favorite hairdresser, Diane in Empire, to cut my hair very short, so I could throw away my comb! I celebrated the new look with a few days spent solo in the northern wilderness, surrounded by frisky mosquitos, an occasional hummingbird, a loon couple, a variety of birds, and my nearest neighbors – busy beavers who I watched every evening, dragging branches across the lake in front of our dock. I began each day with old-fashioned coffee made in a percolator, and ended it with a glass of chilled white Bordeaux from the local wine store.
On Monday I survived my first bear encounter. It was a drizzly morning, and my family had left to go home the previous afternoon. With no heat in the log cabin the temperature barely reached 50 degrees. So I put on some Goretex layers after my ritual coffee and hiked around 50 yards to the rushing waterfall near our cabin. Standing on the bridge, enticed by the sounds and beauties of the magnificent water below me, I suddenly sensed I was not alone. I looked further up the road and saw what I initially took to be a big brown dog, until I realized with a start, BEAR!
A beautiful 350-pound beast and I locked eyes for a second before I took off. The bear was only 50 yards away from me, and naturally could have overtaken me within seconds if it so intended. “Safe” in my cabin, I regretted my hasty departure and realized how uninterested the bear must have been in me. I had missed the gift of watching this incredible creature sharing the space that I have been blessed to help steward.
Sharing becomes more sacred to me as I grow older. We share the place we live with wonderful people who have become close friends. When I arrive home from work every day, my neighbor steps out her door and asks me how my day was, sometimes offering a taste of oyster mushroom stew that she has prepared from fungi foraged from the woods around us. We sit at her dining room window, or try to seduce the Baltimore Orioles by cutting oranges in half and sticking them on the sumac branches growing between our houses.
Turning 50, my friends seem closer to me. We openly share both our joys and vulnerabilities. Some of us have elderly parents who struggle with their health. My brother and I, on the other hand, are the oldest generation of our immediate family still around. Having undergone recent family changes, he and his son will travel 5,000 miles to celebrate my upcoming birthday with me. And my adult children are home for the summer. Watching them grow into autonomous, beautiful and creative adults has been my greatest joy. My marriage is not only intact, but rock-solid, and we will celebrated 25 years of commitment and cooperation this fall. Never once have I seriously considered that this relationship would not last. I know that I am fortunate, and what I love I hold sacred to me.