It seems to me all the things I swore would never happen happened and the things I pledged to never do I did, and my youthful rebellion has faded into the locked, opaque, and hidden compartment of my mind where other indiscretions are placed. What happened?

I swore I would never marry. I only blew that once. That once should have confirmed my desire to stay single, but those pesky women keep showing up and those promises I make to myself dim in the brilliance of their beauty.

I swore I would never have kids. That one I failed at twice. In addition, I have managed to pick up a few strays along the way. (See above failure with staying single). Kids appear to be the only reason for the phone to ring between midnight and 5 a.m. Do the calls ever start with, ‘Just calling to say hi.’? No. Sometimes they even put a surrogate on to fool you. ‘Hello, this is officer…’ What was I thinking? Remember that faded commitment in the face of dazzling beauty?

It doesn’t end there. Perhaps my downfall began when I voted for Nixon, cut my hair and joined the Navy, or maybe it started when I voted for Carter, left the Navy and grew out my hair. They talk about flip-flopping politicians, well I’ve been a Democrat and a Republican so many times, I’ve decided to be a Whig. I am caught in a confusing kaleidoscope of ideals. What was important to me, makes me gasp in horror should I think any of my children would consider doing the things I did.

I think I have just taken up residence in Old Foggyville. I traded tie dye for hair dye, free love for free admission, Woodstock for oil stock, Timothy Leary for Dennis Leary, Rock ‘n’ roll for rocking and a roll, flowers in my hair to no hair, and Jefferson Airplane for Jefferson Nursing Home.

Maybe I haven’t changed; maybe the world around me did. Nope, I changed. Every bump, bruise and near miss has left a scar and a lesson. I used to believe and do things because I had the body to support the flowering mind that led me into danger. Now that my body is as defenseless as a newborn kitten, my mind has to carry the day. Still, I haven’t lost the rebellion and I can state with new assurance, renewed commitment and new strength that I am not getting married and I am not having kids. Maybe.

Glenn Parkhurst moved to Stansbury Park in 2003 from the East Coast and uses his observations while living in Tooele County to inspire his writing.