Running... To Savannah?

Not the athletic kind or the sports kind or any kind requiring physical exertion on any level.  1K?  5K?  Marathon?  Not unless someone is chasing me and even then it better be a Yeti or something big and bad enough to scare me.  What I mean here by "running" is metaphoric for some kind of exploration I'm about to begin either by running "away" for a bit or running "to" for awhile.  I won't know which it will be until I get there.

I've decided to spend three weeks somewhere away from home and alone later this January.  It's going to be MY time to think, to write, to paint, to sip wine and look at a sunset or two, to walk, to wonder and to wander.  Surprisingly to me, I've planned it so I can be as careful with money and time as I can. Usually I leave all that to my husband (how unfair and sexist of me).   But this being MY adventure I decided to own it!  And so far so good (with the planning anyway).

First it had to be somewhere with milder weather than winter in New Jersey.  Second it had to be a place I would consider living in for the rest of my life.  Third it had to be somewhere where I wasn't imposing on anyone I knew either by staying some nights, borrowing cars, or needing rides.  And fourth it had to be at a price I thought of as affordable (including the air fare).

I narrowed it down to two destinations I thought were most accomodating for my circumstances.  I began to think only one was do-able... Savannah, Georgia!  I've never been there but know I would love so much about it.  The achitecture, the squares, the history, the music, the people, the food, the sweet slow pace and the way they talk --- it's like one word leaning onto another in an easy lazy way til they all alight gently onto the floor.  This is not the high season so prices are almost reasonable for vacation rentals (with a kitchenette so I don't spend all my money dining out).  I wouldn't need to rent a car since it is an ideal walking city.  It's relatively safe for a smart women traveling alone (I've done quite a bit of research).  Museums, house tours, the very first Black Baptist church, a city surprisingly little scathed by the destructions of the Civil War.  And Tybee island not to far for another adventure within an adventure.

Now I am not one of the idle rich.  I should be working again soon but since I fractured my back badly in early August I haven't been able to.  I expect to get a call sometime soon from a manager that I used to work for now that I can begin to get back into that routine.  But until then I am using this time BIG TIME !

So I was about to seriously consider one of those VBRO responses I received from beautiful Savannah and was about to begin negotiations and itinerary planning and serendipity floated before me (well really it showed up in my inbox).

A Christmas Bounty

Christmas.  On my way home now and thinking of Christmas.  On a crowded plane, packed with everyone from the truly ancient (have to be nearing ninety) folks and lots of babies --- LOTS  of babies crying.  This is certainly not a business flight telling from this population.  Family members on their way somewhere to join together for the season.  Though not yet in the spirit, looking at the expressions.  Then again there's nothing jolly about this flight.  I swear they make the seats smaller and smaller!  And Americans are getting bigger and bigger --- something going to give soon.  And it seems no matter where I'm sitting the attendants run out of the good food by the time they get to me!

I digress.  I'm about to celebrate my 59th Christmas holiday !  Wow!  I think I can remember Christmas as far back as about 5 years old, maybe younger but I don't think so.  Our trees then always had lots of tinsel shimmering and shedding.  I'd love to get my hands on some now.  That stuff really was magical (not to mention messy - but that wasn't my care then).  And I'm still waxing in my amazement at what these past few days have been.  In a future essay I will attempt to explain why seeing my aunt who has not long to live was actually healing for me.  And re-igniting a relationship with my nephew and his mom is a gift I will treasure for the rest of my days.  Of course watching my daughter be the 27 year old empowered, confident, professional young woman well on her way to her own great future fills me with a satisfaction only parents of grown children can know.

I can handle Christmas without her home now.  This is the way it's supposed to be.  Of course when she has children I'll be hoping to be on this  flight going the other way.  My step-son and his wife and our grandson (is he eight or nine now - wow) are beginning their own tradition of celebrating Christmas Eve and Day in their own home.  Our Christmas Day will be home as well with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law and my stepdaughter and her husband sharing a standing rib roast and I hope lots of wine ( for me).

So, the sweet memories of my daughter running down the hallway to see if Santa came are to be savored.  The year she got irritated with every Santa she saw because she couldn't understand why he kept on forgetting her name is something I love to remind her of.  Really Santa, busy or not -- this is your job.  I remember my brother's expression running back down the stairs after he put his eyes on what Santa gave him --- a full set of drums we all listened to for years after that.  My favorite Christmas gift when I was a child was my Barbie Kitchen - so very cool with its turkey on a rotisserie!  That was the year I confirmed for myself that Santa wasn't real since I found the kitchen weeks before playing hide and seek in the basement boiler room.  I wasn't too disappointed --- Santa or mom --- the gift was still mine.

And the first Christmas my husband and I all spent together as a blended family... The kids made out like bandits.  I think we would have bought each of them a car of their own if they weren't -- what 7 or 8 or 9 years old at the time.  My husband and I wanted to be so careful that not one of them felt slighted so we made a list and it grew and grew and grew!  At that time their concept in the value of gifts wasn't in dollars as we knew it.  So even if we spent a LOT of money on one gift in one box  but the corresponding child's value in gifts equalled 4 boxes we made up for it by adding more, and more, and more... Until we felt we spent an equal number in dollars and had an equal number of boxes for each.   That Christmas was insane!   We made sure they understood that that Christmas would never be repeated.  I don't know how we explained Santa's generosity to them that year.

And Christmas now will be relatively quiet until the 26th when our Grandson is here.  He is the light of my husband's life!  And we can reflect on this year as well as Christmas Past.  This is the year my husband became very ill twice.  This was the year I injured my back quite seriously.  This was the year one of our beloved dogs almost died.  But it is also the same year my stepson was recruited into a wonderful new job (boy did he pay his dues).  This was also the year my stepdaughter was granted a very prestigious two year fellowship (and she used to think she wasn't as smart as her brother).  And this is the year my own daughter moved to THE place she's dreamed of living in for the past few years AND found the first job of her professional career (just as she was burning out being a server no matter how much money she made in tips).  And this is the Christmas I begin to know my brother's son MY NEPHEW and my brothers widow after 15 or so years gone buy.

So, cheesy as it may sound, I'm coming home with a bounty of gifts I wouldn't exchange for anything in this world!

New beginnings?  Isn't that an oxymoron?  Every "beginning" is "new" isn't it?  Unless of course you're just starting over...  I'm really over-thinking this.  Let's just say instead that  "it's never too late."  I will be returning from my little trip to San Diego with a basket full of appreciation.  They say (whomever "they" are) that appreciation is the real key to happiness!  Like the saying "The richest person I know doesn't have a dime."

Aren't I chock full of cliches this evening?   Or just good meds!

Apologies won't be enough but...

With this entry I apologize for the pain I have caused for my stepdaughter and her husband by including a paragraph referring to them in my "Christmas" writing (to be posted next).  That writing was meant to be humorous and, I admit I included some sarcasm --- but that was written for an audience of my own peers to whom I thought would appreciate "an old lady being offended by the perceived callous words of some young whippersnapper."  It will now be posted with the offending paragraph redacted).

I have many explanations but there is no excuse.  I meant no harm - I truly didn't.  What I did was be thoughtless and with that I deeply hurt someone I truly love and offended someone I have come to respect.  My step son in law is a good man!  He is a smart man!  And I know him to be a caring man.  And I could wax on about the beauty of both the heart and mind of my step daughter.  The paragraph I wrote however does not show any of that and has wrought an  emotional explosion of unbelievable proportions that I have been told is irreparable.  

What a Difference the Years and Years Make

Interesting... I'm on my way to San Diego early this morning for reasons that are very sad.  That, I am prepared for.  What I wasn't prepared for was the really rude, nasty, woman I had the unfortunate luck to encounter.  As I ponder how much mellower I have become with age I will use this vehicle here and in private to express what I probably would have said out loud and very publicly to this unfortunate soul if the same had happened years back.

I don't need to tell her how nasty she was but were I younger I would have and believe me I would have done it in such a way  that her mousy husband would have cowered in embarrassment because I would be publicly calling her out for what she is - an ugly, nasty, creature who's been given the face she deserves while obviously living a life without a semblance of joy (in which it seems she also deserves).

Let me describe the encounter.  While seating had started for my flight I heard the announcement that anyone with any disability may board.  Now I am a Silver Member (big deal) so I know I am somehow squeezed in BEFORE less frequent fliers but AFTER travelers with kids and service members.  Because I have a brace on my back which (thankfully) I don't have to wear all of the time I thought I might take advantage of this special extension for disabilities.  So....I got up slowly and waddled with all the elegance I could muster to the "grouping" standing at the silver entrance poles.

Apparently among this amorphous grouping this lovely gracious woman (I say with dripping sarcasm) decided that I stepped out of turn and in front of HER -- NOT something she could allow without comment!  At first she muttered (loudly) about it not being a"bus stop."  It took me a few seconds to realize her repeated (now louder) muttering was directed at me.  No one was moving yet and, I must point out, this was not a crowded flight.  I thought if I smiled politely while pointing to my brace and explained I was having some difficulty with it she might understand.

Nope.  The next sneer from her down turned sunken mouth was "we all don't wear our scars outside!"  We then proceeded forward to board.  The attendant checking my boarding pass  had no problem allowing me on in the sequence BEFORE this brittle dried up woman.  As I walked slowly down the corridor I thought about how miserable her life must be (worse for her husband or whomever the male lackey was with her).

And I thought about my reasons for flying West today.  I'm on my way to see an aunt I haven't seen in over twenty years (or talked with at all during them --- I remind you the family I grew up in defines dysfunction).  I just found out (yesterday) that she is dying a terrible way with a disease resulting from her decades of drinking.  Although she also smoked (a lot) it is the alcohol that has brought her to these final days of agony.  And I do remember her drinking a lot and often and anything that was available.  She drank because she was sad and hurting and angry and rueful and all of those emotions that sap time, strength and joy from a life.  And now there are only four people left who are alive and willing to say good bye to her of which I am one.

It gives me no solace to realize I almost predicted this years ago.  Actually it's pretty easy to foretell the preceding generations' unhappy endings in my family.  What did surprise me though was my own immediate and visceral reaction to hearing the news.  I can't stop crying.  I can't stop thinking of the sadness of her life.  And what compounds this is that it is so clear to me now that she was never malicious or vindictive or poisoned with envy as most of my family was.  That is not to say I would have spent any more time with her as an adult.  I never snubbed her but I carefully discouraged an ongoing relationship with her years back.  Spending any time with her was awful.... She would drink through predictable stages of self pity, anger, and hostility until she passed out -- literally and without fail.  And all conversations with her were dominated with the regrets of her life and the wounds inflicted upon her.

Now I just want to see her and somehow love her (I know it's there inside of me somewhere) and say good bye.  I want to tell her how sorry I am (not for anything I've done but just for the all she has endured in her life (whether real, imagined or self inflicted).  I want to say goodbye to her and I want to say good bye to that long lineage of relatives who made life intolerable (their own and those closest to them).

These realizations help remind me how I was successful in choosing a different path.  I really did make a conscious decision twenty odd years back that I didn't want to grow old being bitter or sad or angry like ALL in my family have or the few that are left will. That different path was not easy to stay on in the beginning but I made it.  And in making it it means that that gene of dark destiny in my family ends with my generation!  My daughter and her cousin (my deceased brother's son) don't carry it and it will never go on.  If I were a religious person this would be the appropriate time to sing hallelujah!

Which brings me back to the woman who's day I have obviously affected so negatively....  Really?  Now really!  I say to her (in my mind only):  "Why are you wasting such energy?  Get a life!  I pity you poor empty woman..."

Better is that I won't say it, don't need to, have no care to and less reason to because I love my life, who's in it, where I've been and where I'm going with it !


Sent from my iPad

When Newsmen Cry

... or newswomen...

I've witnessed, watched and heard about many catastrophes both natural and by man in my lifetime.  There were few times I've seen professionals (e.g., reporters) react personally.  Actually, I can only think of three right now and one is too far back for me to remember personally (JFK's assassination).  But I do remember watching television during 9/11 and seeing one newswomen almost fall to her knees and cry while describing the events behind her.  And now there is the unthinkable that happened - children being shot.  Children being killed.  Babies being murdered.

The idea is so incomprehensible.  But... when my mind gets close enough to even imagine the events I can break down.  And I saw the impact of having to report on that on the faces of the people trying to do it.  I can't remember the names now but they are all so familiar to me on TV.  They have always been "talking heads" or Muppets with microphones... but yesterday they were people who couldn't (and who could?) remove themselves from the common humanity of the situation.

Wars, natural disasters, political uprisings --- we are all bombarded by all of this everyday.  We do become desensitized.  That TV screen insulates most of us from the realities.  But something about yesterday's events reached through the glass and came into our actual experiences... reminded us all powerfully of what can happen and what does happen in our world.

How can something like this though?  How can it have happened to the most innocent among us?  How could it have been perpetrated by any human being (a child himself from the picture I saw)?   What could have been going on in that family to have either produced or ignored someone who could do the unimaginable?  And, is there something someone somehow should have done to stop this?

All the cages will be rattled now (NRA, Gun Control, Mental Health, Schools' responsibility, police procedure).  We will each and all try to rationally explain what happened and how to avoid it in the future.  I am afraid there is no explanation and worse,  I'm afraid there is no answer.  No single answer anyway.

And back to the theme of all of these writings, I have lived long enough to know there aren't always answers or explanations to this life we all share.  But... I have found that in my own way, albeit a small way, I can (to some degree) make my own life have meaning and direction and comfort but --- for all those same reasons I know too that but for the grace of God (or whatever there is that is bigger than all of us) I have not experienced something like this.

I wish my hugs, my thoughts, my will could help all of the people experiencing this unbelievable pain. I know well of the feelings of helplessness BUT, and this is important, I have not experienced the feelings of hopelessness.  But I have not been tested like the people yesterday were.  And I pray that I never will.

True Story

61 year old husband texts to wife:

"My colonoscopy is on New Year's Eve at 10 am at Valley!  Love u"



59 year old wife texts back:

"How exciting!  What other plans do we have to celebrate?"





.... And this why I think it's worth my time to write my musings about turning sixty.

Day 271... Retirement

So this is the time to think of retirement and if you are not financially prepared you are terrified and if you have what you think you needed financially you are still terrified.  I've never seen the economy this bad in my lifetime.  I expect the Great Plains to start rolling in the dust soon.  And, I had my first taste of unexpected medical bills this year - what an eyeopener that was.

Of course the timing (and the choice) of retirement depends on a number of things.  My brother-in-law retired from working for one of the utilities.  He's never been happier.  He knew when he was going to retire.  He knew what he was going to get (monetarily) when he retired.  He has a health plan as part of his retirement.  I'm sure he counted off the days until he retired.  Because he was part of a union all of that was established for years.  And he couldn't wait for the day!

My husband on the other hand, worked his entire career in the corporate world.  As an executive his retirement planning (in dollars) was his to make.  The when however he had no choice in and that is a tragedy happening across this wonderful country of ours.  He is one of the sad statistics of putting an energetic, intelligent, experienced talented person out.  And then what?  How does a man change his mindset from a lifetime's "career" to finding a "job?"

(Special Note:  I am speaking regarding men here because as liberated as all of us women hoped to be by now - it is just not the same for so many reasons, the least of which is if some corporation gently nudged an older woman executive out - they would have some lawsuit on their hands!  And, it just isn't the same psychology for a woman vs. a man... which I will get into with a future essay).

I see so many different scenarios of retirement now.  Duh?  Perhaps it is because of my own age and the people around me.  Another example would be my step-daughter's husband (hmmm or should he be called my step-son in law?).  Anyway he has been prepped at home and in schools (MBA) to take over his father's business.  I wonder what challenges his father may have with what he created from scratch now being directed by new blood (his own but the nonetheless new).  Financially he probably has little to worry about but psychologically I'd imagine the transition to be revealing to him.

And then there is my husband's very good friend.  A college professor, a published poet, having had his career in the academic world since he graduated from college.  His salary was wanting as are most teachers of any kind but his pension has to be comforting... however, he lives in California and in this day at this time I would be more than concerned about the state of the state's economy and what I might lose in my pension simply because the money just isn't there.

Day 272... Family (maybe Part 2)

Step family, blended family, whatever it may be called can be wonderful and it really can be awful --- I say honestly.  I am not ready to put my own personal experiences on a forum like this but because of those I can write about the subject (the good and the bad) with a profound familiarity.

Funny, when my husband and I were preparing to get married we wanted to be so prepared.  We actually took a class on "Step Families" that was given at a local high school.  When the teacher made his opening presentation about expectations of a blended family -- we were shocked and incensed!  We were expecting a gentle guidance through the expected twists and turns of remarried parents with children.  What we got was a good hard slap in the fast.  I'll never forget that.

This "teacher" laid out a few facts on stepfamilies like:  most second marriages that bring children in do not survive.  Okay, we were not surprised with that - hey most first marriages don't last these days.  But it was the theme of the rest of that class that we were appalled at.  "Don't expect to love these kids."  "Your stepchildren will most likely hate you!"  "Your exes will sabotage your efforts every which way!"  "Be prepared for the worst and expect the least!"  He burst our bubble big time.  And, he was right! As a matter of fact I still appreciate the things he said (half of the soon to be remarried parents did not come back for any more classes but my husband and I stuck it out) and prepared us for in the following weeks.

Twenty years later I can say I love my step children in a way I had never imagined possible.  But... there were (and still are) some twists and turns that require caution and patience and love (and the thick skin).  Love of course is the easy part.  Caution and patience does run thin sometimes.  And my thick skin is a bit thinner at this age.  But that's not unique to stepfamilies.  It's just the reality that stepfamilies are held together with thinner threads so to speak. So their are special care instructions to follow.

But back to approaching 60... how wonderful it is to have three adult children (and one grandchild) so far all and each doing so well in spite of and sometimes because of all we went through together and how really hard we did work at it.

The result - the family is well worth it.  Every "family" however it is defined is worth it.

Day 274... Family (maybe Part 1)

Family...

Years have brought me to the conclusion that there is nothing NOTHING more important than family.  Experiences have taught me that family need not be by blood or even marriage.  If you have people in your world that you share a love with - treasure it, care for it and never take it for granted.  Personally I've learned how to "let go" as well as "hold on tight" so that I can keep my family in my life.

For me, family includes blood, in-laws (present and former), step family, and at forty I was lucky enough to have found  an entire half family I never knew about.  My husband and my daughter have friends that have lasted and will last a lifetime.  Friends (real friends) are family too.  Mrs. Doubtfire explained it best at the end of the movie (I still tear up when I see that).  Family is comprised of the people important to you in your life and for your lifetime.

I believe I have a unique appreciation for the value of family because I come from one that had none nor had any (value for it).  Actually there are only a handful of people in my family (that I remain in touch with) that are true blood:  my daughter of course and a cousin I adore, and my nephew (my brothers son).  The rest of my family are everyone from former in-laws, present in-laws, two beautiful step children, three (at least) half siblings and their kids and a step-mom that almost flits around spreading love like fairy dust the blue fairy was so generous with in Sleeping Beauty.

I am greatful for them all.  And one important success I've had raising my daughter is that she has family, will always have family and, so important, feels the absolute entitlement to that ---as well she should.

Day 275... Sadness (Part 2)

I suppose some of the sadness comes from realizing that there are going to be some elements I wanted for my life that I just don't have any more time for.  Actually there aren't that many I am relieved to say.  No, I'll never have more children but my daughter is the light of my life and has been from the moment I found out I was pregnant.  It was when she was born that I had some startling revelations:  I would give my life for hers and I might be able to cause serious harm or worse to anyone who ever really hurt her.  I look forward to her having children because I know being a grandparent is going to be something magical!

And... hmmmm... and what else? I think (and it might be my own mind protecting my emotions) that the one thing I am sad about as I approach 60 is that I'll never see my only sister again (she is 1 year younger than I).  She and I have been estranged for more than twenty years.  Wow!  The reasons why are far too personal for this forum at this time.  I do know where she lives.  I even know that she is married and to whom.  (No one can hide from anyone with the internet).  What I also know is that approaching her would be impossible and would probably bring more pain for each of us than we would choose to deal with.  And that is very very sad.  And what is sadder is that years and experiences have brought me to understand so much more about childhood, siblings, parenting, family dynamics and DYSFUNCTION and how dysfunction tears at the fabric of a family if not faced and dealt with.

I want to be able to say "I miss you.  I love you.  I'm sorry.  How are you?  I hope your life has been good to you...." I want to share so much with her.  She and I (and our family in bigger ways) had problems but the one thing I hold on to is that she and I good giggle together like know one else.  And, I, me, just me, could always ALWAYS make her laugh even during the worst times we shared and even when she didn't want to or didn't think she could.

We lost our brother about twenty years ago and since we were so far apart from each other (emotionally and physically) and our family unit (that is a stretch) really didn't exist at the time she and I couldn't share our grief or anything else.

Yes, this is the one thing I am sad about because there is no more time I can take for granted where someday I'm sure we'll talk again.  To have to face the fact that I will never see her again or know anything about how she is doing is very hard.  This IS a very sad realization to come to.  And it is a reality of aging.

Day 276... Sadness (Part 1)

Today I am having a hard time writing and I really don't know why.  There is no end to the subjects I am thinking about expressing from the point of view of a near 60 year old.  I was going to go on about drugs (vs. medication) and my experiences with them (coming from the 1960's and 1970's)... but instead I will write about what I am having a difficult time with today.  So, anyone reading this can trash the idea that these essays will be the happy and delightful rationalizations, conclusions and collected wisdom of a lady getting old.  No - today I am sad - so here I will deal (or try to) with it or some bits of it.

I AM sad today.  I'm not sad everyday.  But today there is this sort of whispering and wistful ribbon of sadness gently floating around me.  And I don't know why.  Nothing has happened today or recently to bring this on.  It is colder outside but that can't be it although I like true winters less and less as time goes on.  My back is bothering me a bit.  I fear this physical challenge will now never quite completely go away.  But thats not it.

Without getting too personal (this is a more public journal than a private diary) I have to say there is some melancholy that comes along with aging.  And it is not about the things I always thought I might be sad about.  Like death.  I'm not sad about that.  I don't think I am afraid of it either.  I miss people in my life I've lost and recently had quite a scare with my husband suddenly becoming so ill (recovering nicely now thank you).  Of course I worry about all that anyone in my place would:  health, money, children.  I have gotten over the mourning period I was surprised to experience the first year (and probably the second) my daughter was off and so far away at college.  And there are things in my past that I wished then would have worked out differently like my first marriage.  I really was in love with my then husband and really wanted it to work.  Or, finishing college would have given me the much needed confidence I was bereft of for so many years.  But with time and experience I've been able reconcile my feelings about such as those

However, as I continue on this journal's  journey I find myself running into little revelations - some enlightening, some comforting and now I find some a bit saddening.  Oh and I hate to have to admit that.  I'd love for my life to be filled with lessons rather than regrets.  But that isn't real life is it?  It seems musing about my getting older brings me at least to some bittersweet memories I've boxed up and stowed away decades ago.

So on to the unpacking...

Day 277... Anger

It's powerful.  Or I thought it was for much of my life.  I was angry at everything!  My mother for abandoning me emotionally.  My father for abandoning me physically.  Grown ups for being hypocrites.  Ads for lying.  Every driver in the world for anything.  Co-workers, customers, salespeople.  The guy at the McDonald's window who couldn't hear my order.  My first husband.  My second husband.  Everybody for everything.  The entire world for just not being fair.

Not anymore.  Frankly I'm not sure how much my age contributes to this compared to the medications I take and the therapy I've had.  But I am just not angry (most of the time) anymore.  First, what's the point?  It's a toxic emotion that accomplishes little.  Second, most of the time it really is a waste of precious time.  And third (this is where my maturity comes in) I don't need it as armor anymore.  Anger protected me and it empowered me --- I thought.

No one would describe me as "cheerful" or "sweet" - not then and not now - but, I've learned that what you emit generally sets the tone for yourself, your day, and the people you're with.  I spent years being sullen, sad, frenzied, anxious, and mad.  And everyone around me reacted to that.  Why on earth was I surprised that people thought I was a "snob" or intimidating or perhaps just nuts?  Now of course I care less about what people think of me (one of the privileges that comes with age) BUT... for those who do care for me I am easier to get along with.

I have less reason to be angry.  That is because at this point in my life I have freed myself from doing most things I don't want to or being with people I simple don't care to.  Funny how the options of yeah  or nay reduce the potential for anger (which too often percolates to resentment).  I realize that when one is younger those options are not as available.  By example there is little choice of  who you work with or for when you are desperately trying to support your family.  But when you're older your terms are more comfortably your own.  Isn't that nice?

This is certainly not to say I am skipping around like the good fairy.  I harbor bits of  resentment towards some people and since I am a "grown up" I do still do things I don't want to... but... the depth and the duration of my anger is tempered with my life's experiences.  I have learned how to CHOOSE my battles and if I want to battle at all.

Day 278... Hands

Yes hands.  I remember looking carefully at my hands when I was about 17 and seeing that they did in fact look like a woman's hands.  Now of course they look like an older woman's hands - rangy, a bit wrinkled, protruding veins and somewhat bony and those dreaded spots.  Since officially calling myself an artist some years ago they are especially valuable to me.  But they are growing older along with me.  So they hurt more and can do less but I won't let that hold me back .

What I can't do (easily) anymore:  open jars, button tiny buttons, find that little flap/tag on my jeans zipper when it's stuck at the bottom, hold the weight of a large and heavy pot or pan single handedly, use child proof anything, tolerate the cold...
A few years ago I contributed an essay to a blog I shared with some Etsy friends.  I think this best describes what I will always appreciate about hands :

"The Indispensable Tool

I have found a tool I cannot live without. It is readily available, versatile, easy to maintain and with the right care - it lasts a lifetime. It is absolutely irreplaceable and there is nothing else that can replicate it's use in capability, versatility and utility. And, the bonus is that it has so many uses over and above my art work. I find it useful in social situations - it assists me in expressing a point of view. It has actually been critical to my family's well-being in countless ways (especially with the kids). It's great for travel as it is often a key component to any trip (most especially in a car). It is one of my most productive tools and I always keep it handy wherever I go. It's getting a bit old now but there is nothing to take its place.
With the right care I am sure I can keep each and use them for my lifetime."     from HHU June 10, 2010
   
I've told my daughter if there is ever a time I become so old I need a wheel chair and am confined to spaces that accommodate that wheel chair to just make sure I can wheel myself to a large tabletop desk with art supplies, a large dictionary (I love words) and with any device I can use (who knows what technology will be available by then) to continue to explore and stay in touch with the world.  It may take longer but it will still be my hands that can bring me to projects, places and people I want to spend my precious time with.

Day 279... About Face (mine)

Yup.  I look at this face every day, several times a day and have for (when do kids start looking in mirrors?) almost 60 years.  Over these years only two things surprise me:  it never occurred to me that my eyebrows would start graying and (is this true?) my nose is getting bigger.  Unfortunately I have inherited what I now know to be my father's nose which looks much like a potato and now mine is a bigger potato.

Otherwise not much has surprised me which is not to say I am pleased in any way.  I have "laugh lines" aka WRINKLES around my eyes - ALL around my eyes.  I guess I've laughed a lot.  And I have those awful monkey lines that go from either side of the nose past the corners of my mouth.  I have -- whatever it may be called (bags, darkening - and all of the cream and make up commercials that promise they'll disappear with their product - are lying) under my eyes.  My eye lids are very crapy (not crappy), much like cellophane.  Aha!  That's why older women should be spare with eye shadow I have learned.  And, worse than anything I have the dreaded beginnings of jowls (ah gravity thine enemy of vanity).  I don't have a turkey neck quite yet -- perhaps more like a hen's - plucked.

At this age less IS more.  I don't wear nearly as much make-up as I used to experiment with over the years.  And, because of my age, there are some things I'd like to do but just cannot.  By example:  There was a time (a long time ago) my false eyelashes would out-do Adele's anytime.  Actually I wore TWO sets on each eyelid.  They must have looked like flapping shutters.  I tried recently to add some carefully placed natural looking eyelashes --- NOPE --- because of how crapy my delicate lids are now they looked more like dying centipedes.  As to lipstick if I wore anything near red now I would look hideous and very very old if not dead not to mention that liquid foundation DOES makes me look like a cadaver.

So I highlight what I can that makes any difference.  I darken my eyebrows, I smudge line my eyelids with a soft eyeliner, a bit of soft mascara is great, I use blush carefully to contour what I can (trying to darken right under my chin at the neck so my almost wobbling might be camouflaged a bit).  And that is most of it.

I remind myself that aging is a process not a disease and and considering the alternative I will accept it with as much grace as I can muster.  I am not a fan of plastic surgery (besides the cost).  From what I've seen those who choose it don't look good (see above - looks like a canvas stretched across her face) and the future maintenance needs are not something I want to be concerned with.

Of course "looking good" is subjective.  My hope is that I "look good" for my age... more is that I continue to find more good about being my age!  Oh but I still have to be careful about pictures - chin UP, smile (to lift the corners a bit) and just have fun!

Day 280... Embracing the Gray

I have gray streaks all over my hair.  Actually I like it.  I always have, not because it looks good but more because I am lazy.  The gray started as a "dot" right at the hairline on the left side.  I spent a couple of years (way back when in my thirties) having my hair highlighted on a regular basis and one day saw the DOT.  I did start thinking then about what other people would think "she's getting old..." especially at work.  And then sometime in the earlier nineties I just gave in to it.  I had more important things to focus on.  When my daughter chose a key chain for me at Disneyland of Cruella DeVille I realized the dot had spread.

I liked it.  My husband didn't.  I'm sure my graying hair made him feel old.  So, after much pressure I colored it.  Ugh!  It was a reddish auburn color.  The kind you can almost see through in the sunlight (I have very thin hair but lots of it).  To me it was hideous.  My daughter and her friends at the time didn't like it either... "It didn't look like me, Mrs. D" anymore.  My skin tone didn't match it for some reason but the bottom line was maintenance = too much, too often.  Besides, I was happy to tell anyone who commented that I was earning every one of those gray hairs.  I kept it shorter because then I thought that more appropriate for a woman of my age.  I never wanted then and now still to appear to be like a woman who was desperately looking like she was younger than she was.  At that time long graying hair reminded me of aging hippies wearing ill fitting (to say the least) halter tops at the shops in Woodstock.  NOT attractive.

Now that I am approaching sixty I have decided to let it grow longer too (hmmmm does that indicate I am "letting go"?).  I was thrilled the other day because I was able to put my hair in a teeny tiny pony tail.  Not particularly attractive now but soon I may hopefully have that "simply sophisticated lower pony tail" style.  Give me that, some pearls and a simple white shirt and I'll be dressed for anything.  During this awkward stage where my hair is really too long to leave down (too flat on top and drags my facial features to places I'd rather it not) and too short to put in a acceptable  ponytail I just put it up here and there with a random bunch of clips.  Two things help me make the style passable:  assorted little clips holding pieces here and there look okay only because of the hues of gray streaks, and, I can keep it all together because I have found a hair spray that would stop a bird in flight.  I would love to be the image of an eccentric artist or aging ballerina.  Then again, the reality may be that I look like the singing  witch in that Bugs Bunny cartoon where she is humming happily as she is readying everything for rabbit stew... hairpins flying and floating as she moves with delight around her kitchen.

And, lucky for me the gray isn't yellowy or, God forbid made to look blue!  Back to my age and my time:  I remember the old ladies with blue and/or purple hair lined up in lawn chairs in front of the apartment building in the Bronx yelling at the kids and talking amongst themselves.  Could they have been as young as in their sixties then?  Of course they seemed sooooooooo old!

Day 281...Technology

Technology!  Oh how I wish I really "got" it.  I've been flailing about with it for some time now.  So far I have a Pinterest account (hopelessly addicted), a FaceBook account ("they" update it so many times that I can't keep up with what it does or doesn't do or with whom AND my husband hi-jacks it from time to time... he really should get his own).  I have two Etsy shops (reminder to me = restock both).  Oh yes and I have a Twitter account.  Although for the life of me I can't figure out why anyone wants to follow anyone's random character limited comments (well certainly not mine).  The only person I follow is Cory Booker because he is just so charismatic... I'm ready to help Newark in any way I can.

What helps me though with this technology is what I DON'T have which is FEAR of it.  I know my two user names (teeheeproductions and techcess) are spinning around out in space randomly bumping into index files, Google lookups, FaceBook pages and who knows where or what else.  I have experimented with so many things that finding me would not be hard to do... but I'm pretty comfortable that I'm not lost to anyone.  I have made some big mistakes however.  I tried to sync my husband's  iPhone with our  iMac and completely deleted his entire address book!  Well, it's good thing he is semi-sort-of-retired right now.

Fascinating.  I have had the privilege of watching this technology go from Telex to Twitter.  I actually worked in the telecommunications industry a kabillion years ago.  Who knew?  And who knew how fast this would all continue to evolve.  We really are living in a remarkable time -- this is up there with discovering electricity, the telephone and railroads.  I love exploring Apps and playing Scrabble and texting my husband when I am upstairs reading and he is downstairs watching some sports thing.  I go to bed with my iPad and earphones to watch and read everything.  I wake up and can spend hours with it soaking up the news from all over the world.  I've read more now since I have in years.  And shopping - oh so dangerous.  And, taking for granted that I can always stay in touch with the kids is so comforting (not necessarily to them).

IM'ing years ago during my daughter's first year of college was a blessing (perhaps not so much for her).  I thought I was so techno-savy because I changed the ping notice of an IM to a dogs "woof."  During one IM session my daughter casually informed me she was going to some college kid popular place in Mexico for Spring Break and then simply walked away from her computer.  The entire floor of her dorm (she told me) was trying to figure out where the incessant "woofing" was coming from as I was desperately trying to get her back to her computer so I could warn her about the dangers of Mexico, etc.

My husband thinks all this technology desensitizes people from real interpersonal exchanges.  I'm not so sure... except for  missing the wonderful physical feeling only a great big warm enveloping hug can give from or for someone I love, I am content that I can stay in touch so easily with so many.