Thoughts from the Publisher

As some of you may know, late last month I completed my sixth decade on this planet. Yes, I am now 60 years old. Celebrating with my hubby, we spent the day at Disneyland, which is the same thing we did on his 60th birthday and my 50th birthday.

To be perfectly transparent about our visit to our favorite theme park, halfway through our romp around Tomorrowland, I headed for the first-aid station to take a nap. Having slept there before, several years ago during a particularly bad flare-up of my fibromyalgia (when a security guard suggested it after he shooed me off one of the benches because he said that my sleeping out in the open might scare small children), I hoped that the first-aid staff would, this time around, be as understanding of my need for a little shut-eye.
Understanding is an understatement. After being greeted with a big smile, the lady at the front desk of the first-aid building escorted me to the back room for my nap-time. Although I felt a bit like a second-grader who needed to rest after recess, the woman-in-white treated me with great respect and kindness. When I asked for earplugs (expecting a frown from my lady friend) she instead brought me a pair before I could blink. Once I lay down, she gave me a blanket and invited me to stay as long as I wished. Still holding a map of the park in my hand, I quickly folded it in a way that when placed over my eyes, it would act as a sleep mask!and sleep I did.
I woke up about an hour and a half later to a gentle shake from Steve. According to him, he had come in for his nap-time just a few minutes after I closed my eyes. He claimed that he didn’t sleep and “only rested his eyes” because I was snoring. I find that hard to believe. After all, who the heck goes to Disneyland to sleep and then snores? Oh, that’s right— I did. After getting up and thanking our first-aid hostess, we continued on with the process of sightseeing and lining up for the rides.
Oh, I did forget to mention one important part of the story. When we first arrived at the Anaheim landmark, we walked straight over to the city hall so I could pick up the birthday button I planned to wear all day proclaiming me as being 60. While we were there, one of the staff members saw that Steve was carrying a cane. Poor Steve— his knee was giving him fits that day. That young woman told us that she had been trained to advise anyone with a cane to take a map of the park that indicated special accommodations for the handicapped. Earlier that morning we wondered how in the world we were going to stand in long lines without Steve being able to sit. After we learned about the whole special map thing, our apprehension about navigating the long lines was quelled. Once we found our spots in the short lines, we really zipped along from place to place. Well, we didn’t really do much zipping— it was more like rickety rambling. Nevertheless, we had a great time.
I sincerely thank the folks who so sweetly guided us through our big day of adventure, my 60th birthday. I am happy to say that Disneyland and I are both circa 1955, and I am proud to share my birth year with “The Happiest Place on Earth.” Thank you, Walt and Mickey.