GPS FOR THE SOUL
Do you have info to share with HuffPost reporters? Here’s how.
My biological birth year puts me squarely in middle age, yet even as I dutifully provide the relevant birth date, I feel a sense of disconnect -- of not legitimately feeling part of that age group. For me, it's not the stereotypical mid-life denial; something much more fundamental causes my "age citizenship" to be on shaky ground.
I was born in 1963, when the most poplar girl names are now relics of history: Lisa, Mary, Susan, Karen and Linda. Not far down the list were the cutesy names like Cindy, Marci, Tracy, Stacy, and yes, Lori. They all scream, "I'm a child of the '60s! Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!" That is so helpful when I am submitting writing to millennial editors named Amber or Tiffany.