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An old woman active in Italy

10/12/2021

Ready to climb the Spanish Steps.

Just got back from another solitary trip to Italy—10 nights in Florence, 3 in Rome. But you probably know this from reading my posts, “On my mind.”
Here are a few things I discovered pertinent to the secrets of an old Woman.
Maybe it was the mask hiding my wrinkles, or maybe my spryness getting on and off the bus, but no one ever offered me a seat. I guess I didn’t fit the prototype of what is consider to be an old woman.
Nor did I feel like an old woman. I was able to travel with my usual ease—agility and no worry.
Except, for a little internet/app help. The young woman at the hotel in Rome made an appointment for me to get a Covid test (necessary to get into the U.S.) and then retrieved and printed out the negative results for me to present when I got to the airport.
One other secret! I was delighted not to talk about aging or health issues. For two weeks. I was away from any ‘old woman’ conversation. For two weeks, age didn’t define me, personally or publicly.

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Wanting nothing on my calendar

8/5/2021

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I’m slipping into a new phase of solitude. Maybe it is more like a renewal; probably both, new and renew. Here are some of the indicators.
I notice that I don’t want very many plans on my calendar. In fact, I don’t want even to keep a calendar, much less have the need to do so. Well, I do need to write down the few medical appointments I have—the standard eye, teeth kind— because I can’t keep my calendar in my head any more.
This anathema to many calendar plans was reinforced yesterday during a luncheon visit to a friend at her independent living facility. The place was lovely—spacious public rooms and dining room; an apartment with a view of rolling hills; a beautiful chapel; and a potter’s studio, furnished with all the sophisticated equipment an expert could want, and open to all residents.
As I left, however, feeling exhausted. Not from the visit, but from the thought of all the social energy I would have to expend to live there. The good news is that is that I can stay right here. I am very grateful to be sitting at home with just a few chosen events on my calendar, and a stack of book waiting for me.

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Admitting my old woman secrets

7/20/2021

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I haven’t written in a while but that isn’t because I haven’t had secrets. Being an old woman continues take over much of what’s on my mind. I can’t forget that I’m over 80; it permeates most of what I do and think. Oh, there are times when I get immersed in the moment, while reading a book, cooking, being with a friend, but age is always hovering in the background, ready to remind me that I am 81, and that my time and activities are limited.
I’ve always lived in the future, planning and anticipating what I might do next. I can’t do that in the same way anymore and so a void, a void that I can’t fill, at least not as I used, has found a permanent place in my being. Future plans? Not those same big ones that includ new projects, interests, and friendships. My active life-work and projects are complete.
So where does that leave me? Sometimes empty, listless, bored, purposeless. But because I am an optimist, I am not depressed. I am doing my best to examine new ways of being and to accept that doing is not the go-to way that it used to be. I’m not there yet, but I’m feeling hopeful that more and more I will find myself sitting quietly with gratitude, not just for the everyday moments but for my lifetime of blessings.
I have the inkling that that is the secret that we old woman need to find inside ourselves, to admit to ourselves, and then to share with others. We can’t do this on our own—at least I can’t. My first gratitude is for my faith, which gives me hope and encourages me to share my old woman secrets.
No one after lighting a lamp hides it under a jar , or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a lamp stand, so that those who enter may see the light. For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor anything secret that will not be known and come to light. Luke 8:17

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Old age knees--don't talk about them

10/21/2020

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Here is my latest old woman’s secret, which isn’t just mine but undoubtedly a universal one. We frame most things terms of our current health (and to a lesser degree the health of those close to us). Often that’s where we begin, both in our thought process and our daily planning. At least, that’s what I’ve been doing ever since my old age knee began to hurt. Now that I’ve had a cortisone injection and been realigned by my chiropractor, I’m less obsessed/worried about it, but it is always on my mind. These days my health seems to be my ‘first responder’.
Maybe this has always been true for people who lived with compromised health. But because I’ve been extremely healthy for my entire 80 years, this is new for me. Now, I start everything by first considering my health. For example, my husband and I begin each day mentioning what we are grateful for, and yup, these days we always start with how our bodies are feeling. This isn’t a bad thing, but it is worth noting so we can move on to other gratitudes, ones that might lead us away from ourselves and toward others.
You ask why our attitude toward our health is an old woman’s secret, why we don’t’ want to bring it up all the time? We don’t want it to take over our relationships or all the meaningful things we do. What we dwell effect who we are. I don’t mind being an old woman—good thing, because what I am. I don’t want to bad knee to define who I am or what I do. That is up to me.

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Time for garbage pickup

8/27/2020

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Current old women thoughts at this very moment.
      I love my solitude; I love that I can read novels and not worry that I should be reading for my resume.   I love my home and yard. I love my husband.
     On the other hand, I do not love that husband’s back is not good (nor does he). Since I am having to do most of the heavy lifting around here, we have made the monumental decision to sign up for garbage pick-up. Every Thursday morning we will drag two garbage containers to the end of the driveway where the magic will be performed. No more going to the town dump, which has lost its appeal when the put-and-take and book exchange closed!
    I don’t know if you consider this an old woman’s secret. Maybe it’s an old man’s secret. I have never taken pride or ownership in disposing of trash once it left the kitchen.  But men around here like to go to the dump on a Saturday—old men and young men.

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Old women ask, "Where is the meaning?"

5/22/2020

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How are we old women doing during this pandemic time? Because it varies with individual circumstances, I write from my particular vantage point, hopeful that what I observe and experience resonates with others. We have completed our life work-- career, parenting, hobbies, travel, volunteer work. This involvement may continue, but as specific projects dwindle, what remains is a deep desire to satisfy that human longing to create meaning. We’ve been doing that our entire lives but now we know and have come to believe that it is the only thing worth living for.
Most of the old women with whom I am in contact have food, clothing, and shelter; some are more isolated than others. Everyone is focused on taking precautions to be safe, but some feel that the only purpose right now is to hold it all together. That doesn’t satisfy them. “Where is the meaning?
The one who ask this question are on her way to discovering the answer for herself. For us old women it does take much—a wave to a stranger, a telephone call, a prayer. The more isolate one is, the greater the need to reach out or be reached.

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Call someone

3/23/2020

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You might wonder what we old women can do during this pandemics. My one-word answer: plenty. My longer response: do what you can. By than I mean do what you are physically able, and what your heart tells you is right. And then make a commitment to it.
I have chosen to telephone and email people I know—family, personal friends, and those in my church community. I notice that those living alone need special attention because their usual ways of social contact are cut off. They lack the daily chatter that is built in when you live with someone. My husband and I laugh in acknowledging how important it is that we can tell each other something even when we know the other isn’t really listening.

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Ageism and politics

2/25/2020

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Don’t worry, this isn’t about politics, it’s about one old woman’s thoughts about old men wanting to be (or being) president.
We old folks know some things. We know that our mental and physical capacities aren’t what they used to be, and we know that that’s okay. It’s okay that we forget someone’s name, or that on our daily walk we stop to take a few extra breaths as we look up at the trees. It’s okay that we doze off in the middle of the afternoon or decide that we don’t feel like going to a meeting at church. It’s okay because for the most part we are responsible only for ourselves. It’s okay because we are not aspiring to be president of the United States.
Ageism isn’t always a bad thing. At times we play the age card and sometimes it is played back at us. Let’s take this one and live with it.

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Playing the age card

1/29/2020

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The other evening we had dinner with long-time friends, three of us octogenarians , three of us about to turn 80. As you might imagine, the tone of our conversation touched on what we all were doing during this time in our lives: our health, living possibilities, our kids and grandkids, travel, and how we spend our time.
I told my friends that as an old woman I often find myself playing the ‘age card’, and that it’s not a secret that I’m happy to do so. In fact, one of my purposes in writing this blog is to reveal the secrets that we old people have in the hope that others will understand us more fully, as a group and as individuals.
Here are some situations when I play the age card: to go to bed early or to take a nap; to enjoy a third brownie after supper; not to join a church committee; not to go out in the evening. Of course, I don’t always want to play the age card, nor do I always need to. I still travel by myself.

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Gravitas begins in kindergarten

1/17/2020

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Will I live to see the end of the rhetoric by which Trump has defined his presidency? I hope so. I want to see the end of the verbal malice going on in our country, certainly the malice among adults. When I observe a rude politician I tell myself, “That person was never in my kindergarten class.”
You may detect a tad of arrogance in that comment, but I truly did try to help five year olds learn kind and honest ways to express their opinions and feelings. AND, we discussed what was necessary to say publicly and when it might be prudent to keep silent.
This is not exclusively an old woman hope. But a long life of experiences, coupled with a short life expectancy, I believe gives gravitas to what I am saying.

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I am a 78 year old white, educated, privileged woman, in excellent health, with a wonderful family. I go to church and travel by myself to Italy and Scotland. That’s my public vita, my public persona. But that’s not all who I am. I have secrets, secrets of an old woman. So let me say some more.
     I’m old. Not in the usual physical ways of a person age 78, but I’m old in years, and that very fact guides the sense of meaning that I feel and experience in my life. Put succinctly, more and more my age is becoming the filter through which I lead my life.
     I’ve had a rich life, with caring parents, a loving husband of 54 years, two wonderful children, and four amazing grandchildren. My teaching career was rewarding; I published six books for teachers describing my experiences as a kindergarten and first grade teacher. When I retired I earned a divinity degree and became the spiritual care counselor for a local hospice.
    I ask myself if now I am really retired. Well, yes and no. Yes, in that I have more free and unscheduled time to satisfy my longing for silence, solitude and simplicity, which I blog about in this blog-- www.acottagebythesea.net, and more time to attend to my spiritual life, which I blog about in www.aprayerdiary.net. I have more time to spend with family and friends, help at church, read for pleasure, write, and travel,. My old woman secret is that I am still searching for meaning and the search is intense and life supporting.

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