Terri Edmund

2 weeks ago | sixtyandme.com | Terri Edmund

The first time I held a musical instrument changed me. The tiny 12-bass accordion came down from the attic, unplayed since my mom was a child. A teacher named Mrs. Daniels suffered through my scales as I learned how to play and read the notes. Then came Aunt Mary’s used spinet when she upgraded to an organ. Besides practicing 30 minutes every day, my sister and I were responsible for keeping the dark wood dust-free – no easy task on a busy hog farm.

Jan 21, 2025 | sixtyandme.com | Terri Edmund

Sunday a week ago, I took the labels off a new backpack, highlighted a campus map and laid out a sweatshirt and jeans. I second-guessed my sneakers because my sister’s grandson told us the “S” in the name brand stands for “senior citizen.” Still, they are my most comfortable shoes. It was bedtime, but I was too nervous to sleep. I picked up my phone and posted in Fabulous Women Over 60: “I did a thing … going back to college … First day tomorrow. Fulltime student at 68.

Oct 26, 2024 | sixtyandme.com | Terri Edmund

A week has crawled by since we made it home after Hurricane Milton. Until this year, I considered myself storm-seasoned, living 35 years in Florida and most of it on the coast. I researched local history and published my first novel this year about the storm that took out Cortez, FL in 1921. I titled it “When Not If.” Now I know 2024 is the “when” … and the year of my first hurricane evacuation. I wasn’t worried as Milton approached.

Apr 1, 2024 | sixtyandme.com | Terri Edmund

I don’t enjoy driving, especially on crowded Florida roads during tourist season. So, I splurged on my dream car: a neon yellow Chevy Blazer which looks like a bumblebee and makes the chore of driving more fun. I confess, though, I prefer public transportation. But that wouldn’t work the day my puppy Bandit was to be at the vet by 7:30 to be snipped and chipped (poor baby). The ‘bee and I had just left the vet’s office to rejoin rush hour traffic.

Aug 2, 2023 | sixtyandme.com | Terri Edmund

I confess to a moment of near euphoria as I sped past traffic crawling to the beach. My smile was so big, drivers smiled back as I zipped past on my lime green e-bike – head tucked in a sturdy helmet and my sweetheart following at a safe distance. It was a moment of pure joy. Notice I said moment. Less than a quarter mile from camp, I was down with a pain that seared from my ankle to my eye teeth, concentrated in my knee. It could have been worse.