Taking the Plunge at Sixty-Three

 

When I read about how Annie Edson Taylor had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel on her 63rd birthday, I felt a flash of recognition. Like Annie, I’ve been marking my birthdays with some kind of personal challenge. In her case, she took her leap into the roaring unknown in 1901, trying to secure fame and a financial future for herself. At sixty-three, I too am going to leap.

I started this practice a few years back. One year, it was a photo shoot: me in a long black dress, holding my guitar on top of a massive draft horse. It was just two months after my dad died. It was a challenge because I had considered not celebrating my birthday at all—but then I realized that my dad would have wanted me to. So I did it in his honor. The morning of my birthday, I got dressed up, walked into town, made that image, and celebrated with a shot of tequila reposado afterwards (and then I had to rush off to perform in the restaurant). I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last year I played music professionally: COVID was just around the corner. I treasure the photo now.

Other years I did other things. Two years ago, I traveled to Puebla, stayed with my Spanish tutor, and fed a giraffe at the Africam Safari there (yes, that is how it’s spelled). Last year, I jumped on a trampoline and then later that day, went birdwatching with the local Audubon group. I remember the feeling of weightlessness as I lifted off the trampoline surface—awkward, a little scared, but laughing. I was a kid again for a moment, re-experiencing a childhood love of bouncing.

This year’s challenge is not physically risky, but it’s a different kind of leap. I’m traveling to Mexico City to take the Spanish language exam required for Mexican citizenship. I’ve lived in Mexico for over two decades. This place has woven itself deeply into my life. This exam, this journey, is a way of saying yes: Mexico is my home.

After the exam, I plan to walk through the Centro Histórico, just to be in the city, breathing it in, and feel what it feels like to be a citizen here. How does it feel different? (Although I won’t get my actual results for a few months, I’m optimistic about the process and my readiness.) I’ll have lunch somewhere lovely, and I’ll take a few selfies to mark the moment.

Annie Edson Taylor died penniless, her leap largely forgotten. But I celebrate her courage, and I think of her as I prepare to meet my own challenge, maybe not over waterfalls, but into being part of this country at a new level of belonging.