She Will Always Be In The Middle of Her Life

This blog is called “Midlife Cycling.” Today’s post will emphasize the first part of a title.

Opal Lee of Fort Worth, Texas is 98 years old. But she is still in the middle of her life.  Like 99 percent of us, she doesn’t know when her life will end. But, as I will explain later, there is another reason why she still is, and most likely will remain, in midlife.

When she was a girl, her family, like many in Texas and in the African-American diaspora, celebrated “Juneteenth” (a portmanteau of “June” and “nineteenth “) with picnics and other gatherings.  On 19 June 1865–two months after the US Civil War ended and more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation—Major General Gordon Granger of the Union Army read, from several public places in Galveston, the proclamation that the slaves of Texas we’re free.

The following year, newly-freed slaves held commemorations in the places where General Granger made his pronouncement. During the ensuing years, observances and celelebrations spread to African-American communities in other parts of the country.  They petered out, ironically, as the Civil Rights movement began in the 1950s, mainly because the Great Migration slowed down and there were very few surviving former slaves.

The happy memories Ms.Opal, as she calls herself, ended on Juneteenth of 1939:  White vigilantes took the occasion to burn down her family’s home and toss out all of their furniture. That act, barbaric as it was, actually strengthened her connections to the day.  After earning a Master’s degree and retiring from her work as a teacher and counselor, she became active with the Tarrant County Black Historical and Genealogical Society, which was responsible for overseeing local Juneteenth celebrations. 

She soon realized, however, that those celebrations (which included picnics that made my mouth water just from reading about them) weren’t enough, given the importance of the day.  So, at age 89, she began the campaign, which included some very long walks and impromptu visits, to make Juneteenth a national holiday. Her persistence paid off on 17 June 2021, when President Joe Biden signed a bill to recognize this day, 19 June—“Juneteenth”—as a Federal holiday. Banks, post offices and other institutions are closed in observance.  

Now I am going to explain something I said earlier. Ms. Opal knows that, even at her age, her work is not finished. She continues to do what, she says, is the purpose of Juneteenth: informing and educating people about the significance of the event that prompted it.  “Great nations don’t ignore their most painful moments,” she says.  “They embrace them.”  Echoing Frederick Douglass, Martin Luther King Jr. and other freedom fighters, she explains that she wants to bring all people together:”Nobody is free until we’re all free.”

Anyone who thinks that way knows her work, and life, aren’t done.  Ms. Opal will always be in the middle of them.

The First Time, Again

 They say you never forget how to ride a bike. That’s true, more or less.

At least, that’s the case for “Carrie.” She’s the S.O. of “Sam,” the friend and riding partner I met not long after moving into my current place. We have become friends, not only because of her relationship with ‘Sam:” We “got” each other in spite (or because?) of our differing backgrounds.  Turns out, we have more in common than I ever would have imagined.

Among those common experiences is cycling, at least in her youth.  She hadn’t ridden in at least  25 years. At first, I thought she wanted to ride again simply to join “Sam” and me. After finding a suitable bike for her and seeing her on her first rides, I realized that she was looking for something else.

Getting a bike on which she would be comfortable was the first step.  She is about 5’3” 160 cm) and, while a few years younger than me or “Sam,” has trouble lifting her leg over the top bar of a “diamond” frame. (She tried one “Sam” found.) And she wanted something pretty, which I can well understand.

Here in New York City, shopping for a bike on Craigslist is, shall we say, an adventure. Some of the listed bikes are stolen. Others are billed as “vintage.” Translation:  The seller wants $400 for something they fished out of the Gowanus Canal. 

Somehow I lucked out:  A Trek bike with an aluminum frame and 24 inch wheels for a decent price. Although the location was given as “Upper East Side” it was, in fact in East Harlem. But the seller seemed OK:  She described the bike as accurately as she could and explained that she’d bought it for her daughter who no longer lives with her.  The bike was actually in pretty good condition:  The wheels were true and spun smoothly; the tires and tubes weren’t punctured or dry-rotted.  I did, however, replace the cables, as I would on any used bike.

Her first ride nearly stopped my and “Sam’s” hearts:  She wobbled and fell.  Fortunately, she didn’t have even a bruise or a scrape. And she wanted to try again.  And again. Finally, she rode straight as the chainline on my fixie down the block and back. “I did it! I can’t wait to do more!”  

“We will.”

Now I believe I understand why she wanted so much to ride. She probably wanted to share another aspect of my and “Sam’s” lives. But her exultation told me something else:  Getting on the bike and riding, even for such a short distance, is a genuine accomplishment. It’s something we need at any stage in our lives, especially as we age fret that “we aren’t what we used to be.” It doesn’t matter what that achievement is, whether it’s as big as earning a degree or writing a book, or as “small” as learning how to cook a new dish.

Oh, and “Carrie” looked like she was having fun she hadn’t had in a long time, if ever.  She needed it; we all need to experience that kind of joy, for the first time again, at any age.

What To Wear, At My Age?

 You’ve heard of MAMILs:  Middle-Aged Men In Lycra.

Although I am in the middle of my life, I can’t be a MAMIL for one reason, and won’t be one (or, for that matter, a MAWIL—it doesn’t have the same ring) for another.