This picture came with my parents when we moved them from Fairhope. It belonged to my father, and my step daughter said she wanted it. But when I asked my mother, she said something about her cold, dead hands. I did not press the subject.

The sight of it filled me with a bittersweet longing. I remember the young woman in that picture. She was fearless. Her energy was boundless. She had lofty aspirations for making a contribution to society. Where did she go?

However, the more I thought about it, the less I missed her. Her politics were radical, and her opinions were passionate. There is nothing wrong with that. And the certainty that anyone holding different views merely needed the benefit of her enlightenment was common of people that age. But that didn’t make it – or her – any more bearable.

She believed marriage was a legalized form of slavery. The custom of a father giving his daughter to another man? “Is there a return policy?” I asked. It was all a conspiracy designed to keep women tethered and dependent given no choice but to breed. The accomplishments and contributions of women who were married and/or mothers such as Eleanor Roosevelt, Madame Curie and Laura Ingalls Wilder were not considered. This is understandable, as it was an ill-considered opinion.

She dropped out of college to attend the “school of life” and majored in leaving the comfort and safety of her parents home to live in an apartment on the south side of Birmingham. The classes included working long hours at labor-intensive jobs, taking in roommates who often disappeared before contributing, driving to the utility companies downtown to pay her bills the night before her power and water were due to be disconnected, and learning that a loaf of bread, a jar of mayonnaise and a carton of eggs could make enough egg salad to sustain one for a week.

I’m going to stop talking about myself in third person now.

I would return to college a few years later. And this might not be well received by everyone who reads it, but I’m not altogether sorry it works that way. Education is better received with an open mind and more appreciated. But that could just be me…or her. No, I was me by then.

The disadvantages to aging are obvious. Our bodies stop doing what we tell them to. Either we need more sleep or we sleep less and less. The weight we never used to think about now requires a low carb diet and 30 minutes of cardio every day. I could go on. But let’s get to the advantages.

We mellow. We become more tolerant of other’s opinions, maybe even see the value in them and shift a little to one side or the other. Experience teaches us to consider the consequences of our actions and recognize trouble when we see it coming so we can get out of its way. We attain a level of self discipline to act in our own best interests and that of those we love as opposed to immediate gratification. And, in my opinion, one of life’s important lessons is that we only learn when we listen – not when we’re talking.

For myself, I’ve learned that driving in dangerous areas at any time of day is a bad idea. I’ve learned to consider other points of view before forming my own. And I’ve learned that being “tethered” to a husband and children has given my life more joy and meaning than any of the lofty aspirations that obnoxious little know-it-all who wore way too much eye makeup ever had.