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.
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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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. 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. 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. Where should this old woman begin? This old woman who turned 80 on December 30, the end of a decade for me and the world of which I continue to be a healthy member. My kids (ages 49 and 51) gave me a party at Longfellow’s Wayside Inn. Thirty eight family members from Jim’s family and mine, and a few long-time friends gathered to be together, and to celebrate two birthdays, mine and my sister’s. Margot was born six years to the day after I came into the world. I have always loved sharing it with her, which is a gift in itself. After all, wouldn’t it be fair to be jealous? With a birthday, the New Year, and our 56th wedding anniversary all within five days, there must be something to resolve. Let me concentrate on thoughts of being 80. • It’s the best age for me. Why look back with regret or nostalgia, or look forward with fear? • Live in the present moment. That’s all there is. • Don’t judge others. I sure don’t want people judging me as I put one foot forward. • Take care of my body. Exercise, eat well, and if possible, stay away from hospitals. • Lie on the couch and read. • Stay in touch with friends and family. • Pray. Let go and let God. Hmm, nothing to resolve, just concentrate. I had a wonderful weekend in Pittsburg with my daughter and granddaughter who goes to the university there. Such fun just being in the moment with them as well as solidifying some personal old woman attitudes toward technology. I may be physically fit and mentally with it, but age has me wanting to be out of the mainstream; take apps, for example. I have an iPhone, and use a few apps, but I have no interest in leading an ‘app life’ or having apps lead me. Just this weekend the young woman behind the desk at our hotel suggested that I put the city public transit app on my phone so I could figure out about the bus to the airport; next she encouraged me to add an app to help us make a reservation for a restaurant just down the street. Thankfully, my daughter handled the reservation. As for the bus, I walked to the bus stop and read the itinerary. Just to complete this app discussion, my daughter showed me how to put my boarding pass on my phone. No, I didn’t ‘put’ it on, I ‘clicked’ it on. I felt like a young woman as I marched through security and onto the plane. (I deleted the boarding pass from my phone, so I’ll show you the breakfast I enjoyed at the airport--since I had so much time to spare after figuring out the bus and using the pass.) Well, this old woman is still up and about, too busy to post. Busy filling a dumpster in case my husband and I feel old enough to move. Busy with our kids and grandkids who helped out with the purging, and, with leave raking. Busy visiting the old people at church (well, older than I am). Busy reading. Busy being. That all sound like I’m not old, because physically I am young. I forget a few names here and there, but my mind is still functioning. However, I don’t seem to be planning for the future in ways that I used to. I’m content just being. I don’t talk about my faith much in this blog, but I am grateful for it. I am not fearful of what lies ahead, nor anxious about the present. All is well. Maybe one of the results of traveling alone is that I realize that in many ways I am not an old woman, and that I can’t pull the age card other than to keep my shoes on at Logan security. I’m not trying to deny my age, but traveling alone keeps me aware of what I can and cannot do. No question, if you want to travel solo you have to be mentally and physically independent. Mentally I can take care of money, manage the bus system, get to and fro on time, and stand in long lines and walk miles at Rome’s Fiumicino International Airport (where no one takes their shoes off). To travel solo internationally you must be able to manage an airport from start to finish. Physically I have incredible stamina. It’s a gene thing. I had practice throughout my childhood as I worked hard to keep up with my grandmother as we walked down 5th Avenue in NYC. She set off at a vicious pace, and I notice I am keeping up the tradition. My mom, who lived to be 101, took a daily walk up until the last nine months of her life. Yesterday, according to my phone app, I walked 7 miles, took 17,959 steps, and climbed the equivalent of 33 floors. This was my Duomo climbing day, thus the 33 floors; but the miles and steps are pretty accurate for all my solo travel days. I am at Logan Airport waiting for my Alitalia flight to Rome. Yes, it is 9/11 but Terminal E is busy with international travelers. This old woman doesn’t worry about the date, nor does she worry about traveling alone. I’m healthy, ready to walk all over Rome, and can’t wait to sip my first cappuccino. When I went through security I played the age card when asked two different times to take off my shoes. It seems that no one believes that anyone over 75 could or would hide something dangerous in their shoes. FYI, CNN is Logan Airport’s news station of choice. Old women have compassion for those suffering. Is that a secret? Probably not. I don’t want to say that feelings are more intense as we get older, but they come with a history. When I see the children suffering at our border or in Mississippi I think of my teaching days when a little girl cried missing her mom on the first day of kindergarten, or when a six year old screamed and hid under a table when he heard thunder. The good news is compassion doesn’t leave us as we get older. At least while we are ‘in our right mind.’ Maybe compassion is a good indicator of that. |
Author 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. Archives
March 2023
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