Facing the Future

I've studied human growth and development and I know that I'm in Ericson's life stage Ego integrity vs. despair. Soon, I'll be turning 67. Right now, I am well. I usually don't feel old. But, I'm married to a man who is 10 years older than I. In the past 10 years, he's had 4 surgeries and dealt will having to undergo kidney dialysis. I've watched him go from a healthy, vibrant man who walked 4 miles a day and did yoga to a frail, old man who must use a walker to safely cross the room.  Right before my eyes, he's gone from a muscular 180 lbs. to a pitiful 135 lbs. If tried my best to help him through his trials. I know he's grateful to have me. We've been together 46 years!

I see the widows at church, sitting alone in their pews. I think to myself, I won't go back and sit like they do. Facing the future when one is no longer young requires courage, I think. While none of us knows what lies around the next bend, those of us who are the elders have a pretty good idea that it isn't going to be fun and games.

Right now, I'm close at hand to tend to the needs of my husband. But, I have my escape handy. I am so thankful for the Internet. It helps me so much. I can go there and meet new people, yet be physically present to dispense the medications and take care of our daily needs. I've met some wonderful people and made some dear friends on Twitter and Facebook.

So, right now, I'll face the future by being present for my husband, my family, and myself.

Still at the Foot of the Mountain

When something bad happened in my family many years ago, my dear friend Linda told me that it was like standing at the foot of a mountain. The problem was like the mountain and seemed insurmountable in the immediate moment. Time from the problem was like distance moving away from the mountain. As time elapsed, the problem would seem more manageable, much like the mountain viewed from afar doesn't seem so daunting.

Since that time, I've used my friend's analogy to help me get past several other issues and I've shared the imagery with others. It has been very helpful in the past.

This March, after a lovely two week vacation in Florida, I came home to the news that my daughter-in-law was going to do a 12 week internship in far away New Mexico and that my two grandchildren were going along. As the news sunk in, I struggled to keep a smile on my face. On the one had, I was so very proud of her! She'd come so far from the high school dropout that I'd first met 13 years ago. Now, she was going back to her homeland, the Mescalero Apache reservation, to complete a paid internship for her Masters' degree! In between, she'd had my first grandchild and suffered a life-threatening bleed out in her brain. What a fine example she is for her children and for anyone on her reservation!

Yet, everyday, my heart breaks anew as I see something that causes me to think of them. I put away the puppets that my granddaughter and I used for our puppet shows. It pained me too much to see them. Yesterday, I noticed the Wii controls and game lying where she'd left them by the TV the last time we played. The tears welled up again.

Now, it seems that my son may eventually join them and they won't be coming back. How will I stand it? Today, I thought about the holidays and trying to make it without them. It hurts so much. Yet. I should not be feeling so sad. It's not like anyone's died. I can see them via technology when we do Google Hangouts! It is a bitter consolation. Seeing isn't the same as being together. Yet, it's better than texting, I guess.

Coping with change is the task we all must master. Change brings loss and loss brings grief. We know that grief has stages and is complex and unique to each individual. I want to get away from the foot of the mountain. I really do.

Here's my plan. I'm going to work on several areas of my life that I can control. I'm going to exercise more. I'm going to meditate again. I'm going to read more fiction. And, I'm going to smile again. Really!

Mrs. Duggins

Grace Duggins was a feisty old lady. I was kind of scared of her. She was a friend of my dad and step-mother. A widow, she lived alone. Her only child, a son named Bernard, lived in Hong Kong. Grace (I would never have called her that back then) taught piano lessons out of her home. She much preferred teaching boys as she said girls were just too silly. I was a teenager when I met her. She fascinated me. She was independent and out spoken. If she thought you were full of poppy cock, she didn't mince words telling you so. I remember thinking how cool it was that she seemed perfectly fine without a man. As a young teenage girl, all I could think about was getting one. After Kenny and I got married, Mrs. Duggins gave me a black half-slip. I can't remember why she did it. Perhaps I mentioned needing one. More likely, she caught a glimpse of my legs through my skirt when I was wandering around without a slip. That wouldn't do at all; so she presented me with the slip. Now if you ever want someone to think about you, give them something they will wear often. Every time I put on that slip, I thought of her. She lived on her own well into her 90's and drove herself out to a country church to play the piano. Although she is gone now, I still have her gift  in my lingerie drawer.

People are Like Windows

People are like windows, I've noticed over the years.

Some are tall and thin.

Some are short and fat.

Some are open, wide and inviting.

Some are closed tight and say, "Go Away."

Some are plain and simple, in fact, very ordinary.

Others are quite fancy.

Some are so dirty their usefulness is hindered.

Some are bright and shinning.

Some are broken, their purpose wasted.

Others are so lovely, they are a sight to behold.

What kind of window are you?

If Looks Could Kill

Have you ever heard the expression, "If Looks Could Kill, I'd be Dead."? That thought occurred to me the other day when I caught a good look at myself in the mirror. Now, I wasn't looking evil or anything. But, where did the young lady go that used to get wolf whistles as she walked down the street? The sagging jowls and wrinkles on the upper lips didn't just appear overnight. How is it that I just now noticed? One thing is certain, I do not have the money to change my outward appearance. I don't blame the aging starlets who spend fortunes on botox injections and laser treatments. Cosmetic surgery is a booming business. Maybe I would do it if I had the money. But, I don't think I'll ever have the option. I'd like to believe that if I ever came into a fortune, I'd have the good sense to use it to help other people instead of indulging my vanity. When I was a young child, my grandma would get me all dressed up and then tell me, "Now Patty, if you only act as nice as you look, you will do fine." She was trying in her way to tell me that my inner beauty, reflected in how I treated others, was far more important that outward loveliness. So Grandma, that is what I will continue to work on. It doesn't cost a penny to enhance one's inner beauty. Each day, I will try to choose the beautiful way to behave. Knowing my character flaws, that will be quite a project. If I can avoid the snide response, or keep myself from yelling at the idiot driver who just cut me off, then I will be working on my inner beautification project. If I can keep from talking about myself and instead focus on others, I will be showing them attention in a meaningful way. Does this make sense to you? Yes, I'll still comb my hair and put on lipstick. But, I will also put on a cloak of kindness so that I can treat others the way I would like to be treated. Just like my grandma taught me.

Medicare

I got my Medicare card recently and promptly took it to the bank and had it laminated. I want it to last a long time because I plan to as well. I started this blog when I was nearing 60, trying to wrap my head around what that meant. I didn't feel old then and I don't feel old now. Not really sure if I even understand what feeling old means. When I was much younger, I thought anyone over thirty was old. Poof! I was thirty and found out that it wasn't true at all. I hear people talk about being old. Some have called me old on Twitter and at home. I even called myself old on one of these blog posts because I needed another word to describe myself. I am not going to do that anymore. I work hard every day to stay young. I workout and line dance and take swim aerobics classes. I am not going to turn into an old fuddy, duddy. I want to learn new things and stay involved with people. I love technology and embrace change. So, I proudly march forward towards 70 and wonder what the next age will bring my way.

An Old White Lady's Thoughts on Race

My first memory of any recognition of race was the day I brought my new friend home for lunch. My grandma must have been watching us come up the steps because she met us at the door and said it wasn't convenient to have guests for lunch. She sent my new friend packing and then set me down and told me to never do that again. She said we don't mix with Blacks. That's all she would say. Later, I asked my mom what she meant. Mom said that grandma had moved to the city from the farm and she had no experience with people of other races. She said Grandma was prejudiced. I asked what that meant. Mom said prejudice was fear of others because they are different from us. She said there were lots of ways to be prejudiced but race was the most common. I went to public school and in the 50's there wasn't much integration so I didn't have many interactions with other races. In high school, after I started dating, my dad told me to never bring a Black man home to meet him or he'd knock him down the front steps. That's all I can ever remember him saying about race. Later, at his wake, several Black men came up to me and told me how kind and helpful he'd been to them. When I was 8 years old, my grandma moved across town and her neighbor was a Black woman. Irma soon became my friend. I would go to her house and sit with her in the swing on her front porch. I got my grandma to come along. As we all got to know each other, a transformation happened in my grandma and she began to lose her fear of Blacks. We met Irma's niece and her husband and their two sons. Grandma even let me go to church with them. Everyone there said I was the cutest little thing. It was my first experience being a minority. In college I lived in a single room on the first floor of the dorm. A young Black woman named Betty was in the room next to mine. Getting to know her was helpful. I learned the pressure she felt from Whites to fit in and from her Black friends to remain aloof. Poor Betty faced a daily struggle with deciding how to fit in. When her Black friends were gone, Betty would hang out with the rest of us. But whenever they were around, she didn't try to introduce us or interact. Maybe that's what they wanted. This was in the late 60's and schools were integrated then. But in the lunch room we didn't integrate. We sat at separate tables, by choice. I just heard Chris Mathews talking on Hardball with Eugene Robinson and Chris pointed out how we still segregate ourselves in church, at parties, in common lunch rooms, etc. When will it ever end? When will we stop fearing people who are "others" and start seeing the humanity in each other? Let's talk about it and confront our attitudes in the light of day. That way we can get rid of outdated prejudices and start working together. This country needs us to work together. The problems we face require 100% participation. That's what I think.