Old Age Day by Day July 30, 2010

We're going up to the cabin today for a long weekend, where we will struggle between doing all the chores that need doing or sitting on the deck in a coma. Usually, the deck thing wins. We're both pretty lazy. But we've been saying we'd get new beds for a year now, so we might just have to break down and do it. The beds are at least fifty, sixty years old. There are the broken spring, iron headboard simulated boat in a storm beds, and the beds with tucking and rock hard underpads, as well as the bed that even if you hold on with both hands you slide into the middle and sink like the Titanic.

The two sofas in the cabin are more comfortable than the beds, even if I have to fight with the dogs to get a space.

And we've sworn to repaint our mint green kitchen in a color that doesn't cause massive nausea when you're trying to cook. Red, blue, maybe something primary. Just not the shade closest to vomit.

There are many, many other projects, but since we seem to enjoy discussing them much better than executing them, I wouldn't bet on anything getting done. If there is a white headed woodpecker around, I'll be too busy watching him to get up.

Old Age Day by Day July 29, 2010

Yesterday my girlfriend and I had lunch and then sat out on a bench in front of our local grocery store and chatted for half an hour more. The topic was physical ailments and covered sciatica, hip aches, lower back strength (lack of it), shoulder pains, etc. As we parted I laughed, "we're certifiably geezers now". We were having such a great time comparing and complaining. Someone could have blackmailed me easily with a tape of our conversation. How the mighty have fallen!

At least now comparison seems comforting. In the old days, this same friend and I would be doing low impact aeorbics in a gym and staring at our bodies in the mirror and wishing we were shorter, taller, leggier, curvier, thinner. Now we're in the boat together bobbing out to sea, and we're just grateful to still be in the boat and not in Davy Jones' locker.

When I was walking back from that encounter, another friend stopped in her car and I told her I was on my way to have some strange growth cut out of the inside of my cheek and she said her brother had had that done. I felt so relieved! It was just normal hideous aging thing, and I would survive. When the doctor later confirmed that, yes, it would have to be cut off, but no, it was no big deal, I was prepared for the happy news. Misery loves company, or at least a fellow traveler on the journey.

So, yes, we old people are ridiculous, but we embrace it, and our "stories" get us through the rough patches of aging, and give us a few laughs along the way.

Old Age Day by Day July 28, 2010

I'm sitting here trying to come up with a topic, and my dog is rustling through the paper in the trash basket. He evidently finds paper, dixie cups and IRS checks to be delicacies. At least his current proclivities are preferable to eating socks (at one point in a two day period 5 socks passed through his system, five whole socks), rocks, acorns and plastic. Now the paper fetish and eating tiny green apples and persimmons seems downright benign.

Not that I can claim immunity. I embibe entirely too many diet cokes, baked potato chips, and occasional fried foods to feel I am a purist. But I have learned to not eat sugar, red meat and processed foods. Of course, it took me until my late fifties to wise up, and also acute pressure from my doctor. From that point of view, my almost six year old dog is downright precocious.

And right now, he and his aunt, my other dog, are out in the cool morning, lying on the damp, soft earth, listening for birds, looking for squirrels, and making absolutely no judgments about the weather, or how long I'll be inside at the computer, or what the day brings them. They are peaceful and relaxed, taking in whatever is so.

Old Age Day by Day July 27, 2010

The weather was dreary yesterday and so far this morning. I sink a little without the sunshine, which means I'm very, very spoiled. My husband and I went to a matinee with our younger daughter and her boyfriend yesterday afternoon, and it could have been taken from Shakespeare, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing". It was fine, as all we wanted was to be entertained, and without the stupid 3D, thank you very much. But the theme was memory, and I was struck by how the movie's vision of memory was that people remember and re-remember exactly the same each time. The hero stores his memories and trots them out to comfort or torture himself, but the flashback scenes remain the same.

This is not my experience of memory. Memories alter, both from aging or gaining other perspectives and also by the tricks the mind plays on us. Our very inventive minds create false memories, or alter and eliminate certain details. And new knowledge and experience may makes us "see" the memory in a new way. We finally get it that the two year old's rage at Mommy cutting her hair is wanting control over our own bodies and image, not necessarily that our mother was trying to torture us with a bad haircut. She wanted the bangs out of our eyes, we wanted to look like a fairy princess.

But the silver screen seldom gives us authentic experience, and it won't be found in a summer blockbuster, it will arrive in the package of a film with subtitles or an independent film that was made for a pittance, but with a hell of a script. Those films generally arrive in the fall, and for now, I'm okay with biting my nails and laughing in astonishment when the road moves up perpendicular to the hero, and he blithely walks up at a right angle.

Old Age Day by Day July 26, 2010

I'm back! Like Jack Nickelson in "The Shining", a movie I have only seen brief clips of because I'm a scaredy cat.

The retreat was sublime. I dropped deeply with the silence and sitting and walking meditation, and the topic, Appreciation and Gratitude, was wonderful for me. I was able to notice a lot of my patterns and reactivity and open up and be present much of the retreat. That, despite an aching right hip that required Tylenol and some gentle, kindly care of myself. I love the silence, which allows me to sweep aside the debris and see more clearly the state of my mind and heart. I feel I learned so much.

My teacher has three dogs and there was a fourth dog at the retreat as well, and observing their behavior was pretty illuminating as well. One night I had a dream that the one dog, my favorite, and I were sitting in chairs Frost-Nixon style and I was interviewing her. She confided in me that she didn't like her name, she wanted to be called "Delores". Just call me the dog dream whisperer.

I loved being on retreat and I love being back here. I am so grateful for my life right now. I hope not to lose sight of this life I've been given.

Old Age Day by Day July 14, 2010

Well, today I go on retreat. Me and the other Indians. Just kidding. I'm looking forward to it. Last night I was thinking of all the wildflowers my relative and I saw up at the cabin. Yarrow, yellow iris, fireweed, lupine, vetch, shooting stars, solomon's seal, queen anne's lace, columbine, and others. I was looking for pussypaws, one of my favorites, but maybe it's too late in the season. But there is an abundance of wildflowers, due to the great rains and snows. The river is thundering down to meet the lake, which is the highest I've ever seen it. It's been so dry in the forest for so long, yet it takes only one good year to have the earth blossoming happily and showering beauty all around.

Forests don't bear a grudge. They appreciate. I want to try to remember that as I sit and walk and watch the stars at night from my sleeping bag.

Old Age Day by Day July 13, 2010

I got back from the cabin last night and have a day and a half to get ready for my retreat. The visit with the relative from Ireland was wonderful. She and I had a great time up at the cabin playing scrabble on the deck, hiking around the lake, fighting off the mosquitos. She's the same combination of outdoor walker and indoor reader that I am, and we come to total agreement about how our time is spent with great ease. I took her to a gold rush town, and we had fun reading up on the history and were both thrilled to discover High Noon had been filmed there. It was dusty and hot, which was the perfect cowboy atmosphere. She even had a sasparilla with her lunch to stay in the mood. When we returned to the cabin we each read our copy of the history of the town and discussed the plight of women during the time.

Now, if I can just find my sleeping bag, special flashlight, and retreat clothes (formerly yoga clothes) I'll be set for another dusty, hot adventure, but this time in total silence. What a lucky gal I am!

Old Age Day by Day July 10, 2010

I'm going on a retreat next week, so I'm trying to think of all the things that must be done before I leave, as if the world will be in chaos because I'm not around. Well, the world will be in chaos, but I'm not doing much to stop it and my superpowers are ebbing. I need a battery recharge, and I will be a much more pleasant individual when that has happened. Leaving for the world of silence is attractive to me, as usual. Though I am a complete chatterbox at times, I do like not to have to make the effort continuously. I get really sick of hearing myself speak. And I'm shaky about my authenticity when I speak as well. Am I trying to please the other person, make them like me? I have a mile long history of that, perhaps stemming from having to move often as a child. Is there an image I wish to project? Falseness, pure falseness. My intention is to speak to connect with others and remain open and curious about the world. But that is idealized, and in fact, I babble when I'm nervous, and for many other less that stellar motivations.

So the silence will be good. I get to notice my thoughts and interior monologues and patterns. Then, if I'm lucky, I can sweep my mind clear and see what honest, genuine and hopefully useful stuff rises to the top. But I have to remember to carry along my sense of humor, because as Yogi Berra said, otherwise it's deja vu all over again. It's a struggle not to bore myself to sleep.

The silence on retreats relaxes me in a deep way, providing comfort and an introduction, yet again, to who I am underneath. Then I can go forth into the world with my intentions reset, my motivations exposed and the support of my practice propping me up, nudging me on, as I head down my path, merrily, merrily, merrily, to no where in particular.

Aging Day by Day July 9, 2010

It's beautiful weather and I sat outside yesterday and today for lunch, which is my idea of the idyllic life. We're pretending it's Paris and we're at a cafe. Since today we saw an impressionist exhibit, the illusion is enhanced. A little accordian music and the fantasy will be complete. And yet, the longest day of the year has passed, and the days are getting shorter, and somewhere I know this and want to squeeze every drop of summer out and sip it while I can. Even if it's a foggy morning/slightly chilly day and not really true summer weather. Today I wore no socks, though wisdom would have dictated that they were necessary for the temperature. I refuse to bow to the facts of the weather, I prefer to pretend.

Can summer be made of not quite summer weather? I believe so. I will it so. And this funky place can be a echo of Paris even without the architecture and the accents. There is no end to what determination may accomplish. Though may and will are two different beings.

Old Age Day by Day July 8, 2010

Our older two kids' stepmom is here visiting, and we've been having a lovefest talking about our mutual granddaughter. We don't bore each other at all, as we're both in love with the same little two year old. It's fun hearing stories of her more recent exploits. I really enjoy this woman and our shared interests, not only the kids, but many other enthusiasms. She recommends books to me, and we instinctively pick out the same item of clothing or print. We've known each other for almost forty years now, and ask about each others' relatives and travels with true concern. History is so lovely when shared, if it is wholesome, and our united efforts to be kind and respectful of each other has yielded true friendship and the comfort of trust. Long ago we decided, without speaking of it to each other, to do what was best for the kids, and we have done so. It is now easy and pleasant for all concerned, because we took a higher path. We were both in our twenties and now are in our sixties. We were lucky we instinctively knew what to do that would be best in the long run. And here we are, near the end of a long run, and the rewards are tender and sweet. I'm grateful.

Old Age Day by Day July 7, 2010

I have a blue corduroy stuffed pig on my desk next to the computer. I found it when cleaning the basement and washed it in the washing machine and now have only to fix a few seams where the stitching has come out. Our older son sewed this pig for his younger sister when he was in home economics in junior high. Those were the good old days when boys had training not only in metal shop and woodworking, but cooking, sewing, writing up a budget, caring for children and other actually useful skills. He still is the best ironer I know. I can't hold a candle to him. Now the pig will be ready for his children and it's a mighty sweet pig with pink ears and the dimensions of a pillow.

Our younger son had none of this training, and I'm certain he would have enjoyed every minute of it. And it's not like we have vocational schools, we just cut out of the budget the life skills that might actually help when you move away from home. They are too useful to be valued in our culture. Providers of day care, teachers, school staff - anything occupation that holds the responsibility for our future in their hands - we devalue them and then wonder why our kids are ignorant and without resources inside themselves to handle life.

I've never had a house cleaner or anyone to do my work. I felt it was important that our kids see the two of us, along with their help, tackle the messes we create, and build confidence about their self sufficiency. Physical work is meaningful, and its repetitions are sometimes boring but also often comforting to the body and mind. I still enjoy the fact that I can sew on a button, make curtains, hang a picture, change the oil and a tire, paint a chair bright blue and smile. I wish they'd put such simple, accessible joys back in the school day.

Old Age Day by Day July 6, 2010

My husband and I were up at our cabin for the 4th. We had pine needles to rake, cleaning to do and deck furniture to put out. But we still got some walking done, and sat out on the deck to eat and read. With two dogs, we don't canoe much any more, or swim as much either, as dogs can't be on the lake beach any more. Times have changed. I was sitting out when the overwhelming feeling hit me that most of my experience at the cabin, after 25 years, is over with. The good times behind me. It shocked me to have the thought, as I'm usually pretty forward thinking and not sentimental or regretful, but my mortality really hit me then. I examined the thought and found it to be true. My best times at the cabin are, generally speaking, behind me. It's a fact. That doesn't mean I won't have wonderful moments ahead, but that sense that all the kids and friends are around which made the cabin so special - the crowded party boat, the many towels hanging out on the deck railing, the big barbeques and dog birthday parties - these will not happen again. I still have my dear friend who rents the cabin next door for a week in summer, and she has a bustling crew, but I'm often alone or with the dogs. My kids rightly want to be up when I'm not up, they want to do their own thing, and friends have complicated schedules but not parallel ones, since are kids are all way grown.

It was a punch in the gut kind of letting go, and it took some time for me to acknowledge, with any degree of equanimity, what is so. The cabin is slipping out of our hands and into those of our children and grandchildren. There will always be a big piece of my heart up there, and I hope my family feels it when they're up. I bought the cabin outright with my father's life insurance payout when he died. I knew he would have loved it, especially the fishing. My mom, well, maybe she would have rather stayed at the Hilton, if there was one, which, thank goodness, there isn't. But she would have been happy embroidering on the deck or reading. I used to feel like I was extending their lives by living mine. Now I feel the extension stretching beyond me to my children and grandchildren. It's poignant, true, and quite a piercing adjustment, but one I'm attempting to make gracefully.

Old Age Day by Day July 2, 2010

My husband delayed going to work this morning so we could watch the World Cup and Netherlands beating Brazil. It was so exciting, especially on the Spanish channel, where the announcers' enthusiasm is infectious. My team (now that Mexico is out) Ghana, is playing at eleven. It's fun. Kind of the same as watching opera. Exhilarating.

Today is our younger son's birthday. We're set to have lunch together, and shop a bit. He's so easy to be with, and interesting to talk to. I feel blessed that I enjoy the company of all our kids tremendously. Lots of laughs, and we share a lot of enthusiasms, like art and music and movies. Well, not the same movies. We have a tradition of seeing a movie on Christmas day, but some years we can't all agree, so we stay home and play cards or another game. And now that our granddaughter is on the scene, we watch her like we used to watch a movie, only she's better viewing.

A long weekend is here, and despite mixed feelings - my Cherokee ancestors were on the side of the British, and my Scottish ancestors probably for the revolutionaries - the Sioux and Germans, who knows. I just like the holiday. Mainly because I love fireworks and potato salad and baseball. I will even buy turkey hot dogs and slather them with good mustard and a ton of onions. It feels like THE celebration of summer. And I'm in favor of summer all year round.

Old Age Day by Day July 1, 2010

I talked to our son in Asia this morning. It was nighttime for him. We spent a long time on baseball, then the World Cup. I was for Mexico, but now Ghana, and if worse comes to worst I'll root for Spain. My son's thinking well of Germany. We discussed passing and other elements of a game he has played since he was six. It's strange to have him away so long, and without seeing him. Money is difficult for research, and he is forced to be away from his wife and family because the flight is too expensive. It's hard times for him, but the end is in sight. As a mother, I just feel that cord of connection stretched too far, and I want him home. It's irrational, but so ordinary, this feeling of having my field of awareness so huge, and so abstract. Yet, it is a lesson in interconnectedness. Right now, the news there is of huge importance to me. It should always be, but at least I'm forced to open up my world and make it larger, more generous.

I've been stretched in this way from an early age. I married someone from half way around the world, and that has meant, even after his death, that I have family from that first marriage in the Pacific, in South Asia, in Ireland. My field has been pretty inclusive since I was nineteen. And my kids have lived in other countries in Europe and Northern Africa, and been traveling even more widely. Once before, our older daughter was traveling alone in the same country for a year, and it was before cell phones and I talked to her once a week from a phone office. She was in a place I couldn't imagine, and going there near the end didn't help with the worrying. Of course, something can happen anywhere, so it's unfair, but that huge distance does make the worry quotient rise alarmingly.

Yet, as a result, my family has always thought globally, as well as locally. And that is a very good thing. The earth is holding all of us in her arms, and we owe it to her to hold all of it's beings in our hearts.