This week, my mother hit one of life’s chronological milestones – she turned 80.
Even as an octogenarian, she still cycles, plays tennis or takes Appalachian Trail-length walks on a daily basis.
She has trekked across Canada, rode a tortoise on the Galapagos Islands, lived with a tribe in Africa for two weeks and shot (with a camera) a charging Rhino that came thisclose to her jeep on the Serengeti.
It’s safe to say she was, and is, not typical of her generation. She was one of the first-ever female carriers for the old Brooklyn Eagle newspaper back in the early 1950s and was a working mother since I was in second grade.
For all her groundbreaking progressiveness and Hemingway-esque adventures, however, she still doesn’t understand the concept of working remotely in a home-based office. To her, that was something that doctors or dentists did, or those who worked in telemarketing sales jobs such as Fuller Brush or Avon.