Old Age Day by Day August 31, 2010

I was about to begin this blog when my friend called. We talked about her weekend retreat, and various Buddhist practices, and let our minds join hands and wander a pretty wide field together. I told her about a song, "You can close your eyes" that Carole King and James Taylor sing on their new CD, and she asked me to sing a bit of it. I used to sing along with Linda Ronstadt when she recorded it in the seventies. I just loved this song then. Now I see it as more of a lullaby. Maybe because then I was full of raging hormones, and now a lot of my love is of the grandmotherly kind. Here it is:

Oh, the sun is surely sinking down
But the moon is slowly rising
So this ole world must still be spinning round
And I still love you

So close your eyes
You can close your eyes
It's alright
I don't know no love songs
And I can't sing the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
You can sing this song
when I'm gone

Won't be long until another day
We're gonna have a good time
No one's gonna take that time away
And you can stay as long as you like

Only close your eyes
You can close your eyes
It's alright
I don't know no love songs
and I can't sing the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
You can sing this song
When I'm gone

There is a reassurance in this song I love. A nurturing. The singer is saying he/she is doing the best she/he can to protect this loved being. She/he will keep the beloved safe. So the beloved can relax, let down her guard, and sleep.

I've learned this song because I love it so much, and now my friend has offered to learn the melody so I can do harmony. What fun!

Old Age Day by Day August 30, 2010

I've had a busy three days, but good busy. Seeing friends, shopping and having dinner with my daughter-in-law, lunch with my younger daughter. My Buddhist study group met Saturday morning, and we are so fond of each other at this point, that it's like a family reunion. I am thankful to have so many connections to people and the opportunity to be with them. Today will be more about errands and laundry, but hey, those days are good, too. It is supposed to be warming up, the the sunniness early is a sign they the forecasters might be right. Labor Day feels like the last hurrah before fall and holidays. Last chance to be in summer mode. Summer mode for me is very little routine, no classes and commitments, a bit of travel, and catching up with my reading.

In fact, I'm so caught up with my reading I'm a bit sick of it. That means I have to occupy myself in other, hopefully more useful ways. My older daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter are coming this Friday, and that is a favorite way to use my time - adoring the grandchild, which, as you know, is an active and full time task. And I'm the gal to do it.

I will turn 65 when they're here, and I don't exactly know what that means yet, except for Medicare (as if I really understand that), but I'm tiptoeing my way into the other side of the sixties, and we'll see if the water is warm and nice, or a bit chilly. I have great trouble believing I'm this old, though there are plenty of signs, the saggy skin, the wrinkles, the wobbly knees, the hip and sciatica. But I don't quite get it. I never really expected to get to this age - so now, what do I do? The journey continues, and undoubtedly will be full of surprises. One day at a time.

Old Age Day by Day August 26, 2010

My foster granddaughter is beginning kindergarten this fall. In less than a week, in fact. It's a big change, and she has before and after school care as well. It's a long day, and I remember my kids being so fatigued when they started school. Even though they'd had preschool experience, and various sitters, somehow they know that this is the real thing. School will not be over for thirteen years, even if they skip college. It's a long haul. Their peers slowly become more important than their parents, and the cultural influences are compounded. We tell them they are big stuff to be going to school, but we sanitize and gloss over the difficulties.

I hope she isn't bored a lot, and finds friends easily and decides learning is fun. But there are scary times, and her protectors will not be there. She will have to learn to negotiate the big bad world by herself. She's shy, and tends to pull back when kids act out. I hope she will continue to feel she can speak out and be heard. But that depends on the teacher, the class, and a whole lot of luck. My heart goes out to her, and all these little beginning citizens, thrown into a world that often doesn't make sense and is not all that much fun. I'm thinking of volunteering in her class on the day I take her home with me, and just observing what the lay of the land is. Her mom is a teacher at another school and I could stand in for her in this small way and witness.

Old Age Day by Day August 25, 2010

It was hot yesterday. The air conditioning broke down in my husband's building, so he was sweltering. Even the elevator broke down. Everything has been undependable since the building was renovated. Kind of like cosmetic surgery. I loved the heat so much I planted new flowers in early afternoon and got myself overheated, and I didn't close the windows in the hottest part of the day. I've come to my senses and closed all the windows this morning. But it's great. Feels like summer, and NO JACKET OR SOCKS.

I grew up in the midwest and south, so I like a hot summer, even like the humidity. But of course, I'm no kid any more, so no running around at noontime with the sun in my face. I have to be sensible. I'm supposed to really take it easy being in the sun while I have this topical ointment treatment for the basal cell carcinoma. I was thinking earlier, that when I was fourteen I had over a dozen warts electrocuted on my left knee. At puberty I had a lot of weird growths and also some thyroid problems, and after menopause I'm having the same issues. These hormone fluctuations do run us around. I couldn't ignore the destiny of my chemistry if I tried.

When I was fourteen I wanted my legs to look cute and boys to like me. At least this time they can burn and cut and I don't care what the boys think. If they can get past the wrinkles, gray hair, spongy skin and apple shaped body, fine. I think my husband can, on his good days. But who really cares? When we're in our hormonal prime, we give our power over to others. I like my dried up, dessicated self that seeks to please itself, not anyone else. And I'm so much easier to please.

Old Age Day by Day August 24, 2010

It's going to be hot today, and we're all loving it, after a foggy, cool summer. I ran into some friends while walking the dogs, and they were out early reveling in the glorious morning. They both had on shorts, and NO JACKETS! Wandering around all day without a jacket would be a good use of my time, I think. However, here I am, back inside at my computer. But not for long. It's strange how the weather practically runs our emotional systems. We are truly creatures of the sun.

I'm doing this topical treatment for skin cancer every night, and it brings me back to a scrapbook of memorable sunburns. Though probably my worst experience was a combo of sunburn and poison ivy while my family was vacationing at Virginia Beach with other families. I had to be inside in the daytime suffering, and probably rereading Nancy Drew or the Black Stallion. It felt like the whole world was having fun, except for me. I was hot, sticky and itchy.

I love the sun, but the sun doesn't love me. I'm a redskin, a red skin, and no amount of sunscreen protects me. I'm the griddle for eggs and bacon. But reborn as a girl. So what?! With my hat on and my sunscreen and long sleeved shirt and pants, I brave the elements to feel that little bit of heat on the top of my hat and breathing through my clothes. It may be only two days of summer, but they're here now, and so am I.

Old Age Day by Day August 23, 2010

I saw a delightful movie Saturday - Peepli (Live). It's an Indian film, and a satire on a serious problem in India, the rash of suicides of farmers. It depicts the hollowness of the news media, and the ruthless manipulation of human beings for "story". It's very funny, and well acted. It seems the news media in every culture has devolved into a distraction from what is important to obscure situations which we might actually change, if we made the effort and brought what was important to the forefront of discussions. I can't even stomach PBS any more. The stories are locked into the same box of helplessness and deja vu. Everyone thinks in sound bites, and the natural flow of discussion is truncated to the point of inanity.

I am most offended currently with the talking heads trying to persuade us that we should give money to Pakistan or it will turn to other countries and our opportunity to gain their respect will be lost.

Excuse me? People are dying. Women and children mostly. But we should help only if it benefits our foreign policy objectives! What happened to do the right thing? What happened to the upside of saving lives. There but for the grace of god go us. We are all people who can and do suffer. No one should starve or die of thrust. End of story.

Don't attempt to manipulate me with self interest. Respect me. Hello out there - is anyone actually listening? Or just yammering, so loudly, that they have forgotten what is basic and true.

Old Age Day by Day August 21, 2010

My husband and I were having a great argument over Tiger Woods, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemmons this morning. Unfortunately, it was interrupted by my friend's phone call, but since I live with the man, it can be continued later. He often forgets I read the sports section of the paper. And I am a skeptic, not the believer in the sports writer's judgment, as he is. The problem is not who should be a kid's hero, but the commodification of athletes. And the way parents get sucked into accepting that a hero is someone who earns a lot of money. I'd like to see more parents pointing out other kinds of heroes, like an aunt who cooks for the homeless or a grandpa who helps kids learn to read. If we buy into, and I mean buy into literally, the garbage thrown at us by ad agencies and the media, then our heroes will only be celebrities and badly behaved people with too much attention and no boundaries.

I like sports. But I don't like manipulative profiles on athletes with sick children or mothers who died of cancer. I don't like the personal being used as a bargaining chip for a bigger endorsement deal. I want to hear about the fifth inning stolen base, but not the "up close and personal" crap that ruined the Olympics for me. I know some people are rational enough to see through this and think for themselves, and it's no wonder these guys start with the kids, who have not developed critical thinking skills yet. When we talk about character, maybe it better be about people on our block and in the neighborhood, and stop being fans for hire.

Old Age Day by Day August 20, 2010

I got a haircut yesterday. I brought in a picture of Salma Hayek and came out, well, not so Salma, but definitely an improvement. Now, the only thing I have in common with Salma is height and a square face. I don't have the figure, the cute nose, the exotic skin, the amazing eyebrows, the luscious lips. But her hair is black and mine used to be. So I decided we were the same type. Small, so no overpowering hair. Opinionated, so I needed an opinionated hairdo, something with spunk.

My hairdresser evidently thought spunk was going too far, but I can always hack on my hair a bit and make it more like the photo. I deliberately took the photo back with me. I am not giving up on my Salma. No way.

The funny thing is, this hairdresser is only four years younger than I, and she finds it perfectly okay to give herself too young "dos" and color her hair caramel in a desert. So why can't I have something a little goofy? Being in the hands of a hairdresser is like reverting to babyhood again. And that is not a really comfortable place for me. My first memory is looking in a full length mirror after my mother had cut hideous bangs on me, and hating her. Then, I got into trouble by cutting my friend's blond hair to the scalp on one side. So, let's say, I have issues. Serious issues.

But hair grows. My hair grows like a wildfire in Kansas. And I have my own scissors. I can take control of the situation. I am the mistress of my own locks. Well, almost.

Old Age Day by Day August 19, 2010

My husband has a talk today, and he was nervous as he left. I made up a couple of jokes for him to use, but I doubt he will. He's better at public speaking than he thinks, and sometimes transcends himself outright, like his speech when our older daughter got married. He's full of surprises. In fact, people are full of surprises, and that is a good thing, because we tend to diminish people in our assessments of them, and the surprise reminds me that I don't "know" the other person as well as I think I do, and expecting certain behavior is not giving the other person a chance. I'd not like it if someone did that to me - in fact, it undoubtedly happens, but I'm usually unaware of it.

It's sort of like when I had the colonoscopy Tuesday, and the nurse was required to ask me if I was abused, and I told her I'd run safehouses for battered women for twelve years, and about the time a batterer barged right in the hospital room of a client and threatened me. Luckily, security arrived quickly, but he was about to beat me up for "giving his wife ideas". Radical ideas such as she had a right not to be hit. So then I wasn't just an annonymous 64 year old lady, but a person who had more stories than the nurses, and they eased up and we chatted and laughed. You never know who you're talking to, and you might be surprised if you left your preconceptions at the door and just see what shows up. Life is definitely more interesting that way.

Old Age Day by Day August 18, 2010

I haven't been singing enough. I need to get back in practice. The quality of my life improves so much with music, even if it's just The Wiggles with a granddaughter. I feel lifted with music, and for some reason I've forgotten to include it in my day. At our cabin, I have a few ancient CDs and a player, and in the evening, when I'm reading, I listen to Kitka or Cole Porter or opera arias. And when I get back home, I forget to sit down and enjoy music, and lately, I've been forgetting to sing as I walk the dogs or am in the car. Maybe I'd better forget NPR and stick a CD in, so I can sing along to Linda Ronstadt or Magnetic Fields. I had been playing French Cafe Songs in the car, and somehow they felt familiar and goofy at the same time. So much for news, I need the real heart of the matter.

Old Age Day by Day August 16, 2010

I'm pretty chipper, considering the dogs woke me up at 3:30 am and I am on my clear liquids diet before the colonoscopy. I bought a romance/mystery book to get me through today, and I can always plan a redesign of my bathroom while I'm living in it. A friend is taking me at 7:30 am tomorrow morning, and I hope to be groggy enough to be unaware of my surroundings. All my friends and I are saying it seems like we no more get finished with all the yearly checkups than they begin all over again. So many parts, and so much that can go wrong.

I amazed myself by overeating last night, and it evidently was just because I couldn't eat today, and I felt bloated and full of starches. I had a large beer, big salad, bread and butter and a whole "individual" (if the person is a giant) pizza. I wanted to stuff and stuff my mouth with something, and it was crystal clear that the stuffing was not doing anything for my anxiety level. I know better, but when has my knowledge led the pack? Fear was riding ahead like Secretariat, and sensibility was way back before the curve. Oh well, even we elderly must regress at times. Keep our hand in the pulse of the nation. Wisdom is not a companion to me, just an occasional visitor.

Old Age Day by Day August 15, 2010

I had a nice time with my foster granddaughter. We went out to lunch, saw a movie (Ramona and Beezus) and relaxed at home. She had an hour bath, as I had a new bath baby with accoutriments. We read many books. She slept like a lamb. Today we had our artistic endeavors after breakfast, then went to a museum and had lunch. The twenty - four hours went by beautifully. At five, she's so much easier than before, and even better to talk to. Her will is still indomitable, but she compromises more, and is not as insistent. In two weeks she begins kindergarten.

Her mom, who has been a widow for over three years, has a boyfriend, and I met him, and he is delightful. I'm so happy for her, and my granddaughter, and their future. Things change, and then they change again. He has made them both more at ease, and for that alone I bless him. There are good guys out there. I like thinking about that.

Old Age Day by Day August 14, 2010

This weekend I have my foster granddaughter, and it's her first overnight with me. I'm a bit nervous, but it should be fine. I've got a dozen ideas about where to go and what to do, and hopefully she'll be attracted to some of them. She's very opinionated, and her will is about ten times stronger than mine, because, I admit it, I think everything she says and does is adorable. Okay, I'm a sucker, but that is what grandparents are supposed to be.

My daughter sent a video of my 2 year old granddaughter singing, and her older friend dancing through the frame. She's also talking on the toy telephone, and explaining she's on the phone so can't finish the song. I wonder where she heard about being on the phone and so not being able to attend to another activity? Humm. What they pick up from us!

Yesterday, a friend brought her grandson over to see our dogs, and I had gotten him a magic kit, and he regaled us with tricks, while we clapped enthusiastically. I am developing this network of grandmothers so we can support each other in the admiration of our grandchildren. We think they are all supersmart, cute as buttons, and outgoing. Why wouldn't they be? We're the paparazzi of the small set. Everyone needs their fans.

Old Age Day by Day August 13, 2010

The sun has come out, and did yesterday afternoon as well. Yet, it is Friday the 13th. I can kind of tell, because the doctor's office called and canceled my colonoscopy on Monday, I missed a call from my therapist rescheduling my appointment with her, I could not get a group email to work, because some of the addresses were somehow wrong, and I don't like what I'm wearing and can't decide whether to cancel my haircut appointment next Tuesday. I'm all discomboobulated. I know, it's not a word, but it works for me.

A lot of deep breaths will calm me down, but I am out of sorts. I hate having a colonoscopy, but I hate putting it off and having to think about it longer. There is no pleasing me today, or at least up until now.

Hopefully, some cheering up will occur, because I am blessed with a generally sunny nature, and I still have two biopsy reports next week if I need to worry. I'll just concentrate on those, and forget my colon. Ah, the joys of getting older!

Old Age Day by Day August 12, 2010

So. I have a sore mouth, sore cheekbone, sore spot on the other cheek, sore left shoulder and sore left leg. Maybe it wasn't the most brilliant idea to do all these biopsies and tests so close together. Of course, I didn't factor in falling while hiking, which was the coup de grace. A little unexpectedness should always be expected. Thank goodness for Tylenol and Odwalla shakes and the modern comforts. I can only have soft cold foods, and it's dreary out and all I can think of is hot tea and soup. The mind doesn't like to be deprived of its obsessions.

Today a friend is picking me up to go to a museum, and it's a good day to be indoors, looking at beautiful art. Then another friend is bringing her grandson to see the dogs, and all in all, I am surrounded by dear friends who make it impossible to be glum. Yesterday I had lunch with one friend and another took me for the oral surgery and wisked me through the grocery store afterwards for liquid meals. I have an abundance of support, and try to give back support for all of them. It's the fruit of long relationships. We know each other well, have had our disagreements and moods and are comfortable enough with all the little foibles and quirks to delight in them. Old age means long histories and proven devotion, and I wouldn't trade it for all the youth in China.

Old Age Day by Day August 11, 2010

I'm reading a book about Quanah Parker, the Commanche chief who was half white and became a legend. The Commanches are a very unusual tribe, and were the premier warriors on horseback. The account reminds me of the culture clash that occurred between a people believing in property and home, and a people on the move their whole lives, who reveled in combat. They were not unlike the guy in the movie Hurt Locker, who cannot settle and adjust to civilian life. He wants the rush of the dangerous and unexpected. I had not realized, until I read this book, how many Cherokees were in Texas, and especially in the Hill Country. They were pretty assimilated, so the Commanches and Cherokees had nothing much in common, yet when the Texas Rangers killed Indians, they killed indescriminately. Peaceful Indians were slaughtered for raids the Commanches had instigated.

When people are labeled, these tragedies occur. This misunderstanding is occurring right now about the Mosque near Ground Zero in New York. It takes effort and time to see individuals and groups with particular characteristics, instead of wanting to get rid of "Indians" or "Muslims" or some other nebulous group undefined. The Commanches were dangerous and fought to the death for their territory, but a lot of innocent Indians got in the way of blind vengance, and there was no moral right that the Texas Rangers held. They fought as dirty as the Commanches, and killed anyone they could label Indian, including women and children.

Our country has this bloody past and this present danger: simplify the problem and wipe out everyone you label other. If we move in this direction again, we will lose our moral high ground, and be just savages among savages.

Old Age Day by Day August 10, 2010

Yesterday I fell while hiking with my family. Just on soft dirt, after five miles of boulders and gravel and more dangerous terrain. I hit my left cheekbone and my left leg to the side of the knee. I was dizzy and nauseated, and just sat there for a minute. A nice lady who was an EMT came over from her dock and brought me water and a wet paper towel. The water helped, the dizziness and nausea abated, and I was able to walk the rest of the way back okay, where I lay out on the deck in the chaise lounge and iced the cheek and leg. The surprise of it was, as always, such a lesson. Things change. When I'm tired I don't pay enough attention. Nothing is really predicable, including the next moment.

I was so lucky. I didn't break a kneecap, or knock my teeth out. I felt calm, and patiently waited to see if I would feel better, could walk, was going to need medical help. Time slows down, but also, the body is protected by the shock of it all. My body said, whoa, you're dizzy, nauseated, you must stop and pay attention to this. No soldiering on singing manly songs. My body told me when I could get up, and that I could walk. It said it hurt, but it forgave me.

So I'm sore today, but was able to walk the dogs. Maybe no exercise video today. And I think of all the people who've had a similar distracted moment and fallen and it required the emergency room or surgery. Luck. I'm of an age for careful stepping. And I mean that literally and figuratively.

Old Age Day by Day August 6, 2010

Well, well, well. Three women on the Supreme Court. Will wonders never cease. There was a time when I expected more. Now I'm happy with gestures. Maybe I will not live to see a woman President or even Vice President, but I saw a Speaker of the House with lipstick, and that ain't hay.

I come from a line of matriarchal women on my mother's side. The U.S. Government refused to negotiate treaties with tribes led by women, and changed the cultural nature of Indians for a while, until people like Wilma Mankiller. The U.S. Government is mighty resistent to anything but men, more so than many other Western countries. Our country is terrified of the power of women, maybe partially because in the not so distant past they saw other cultures functioning with women as shamans and chiefs. They refused to speak with those women. They refused to listen. In their own homes I assume the pattern was the same.

But this is a short history of this country as the United States of America. For 10,000 years before that, various tribes heard women's voices and honored them. I hope the preponderance of history wills out. I'm proud of what came before. Came before 1776.

Old Age Day by Day August 5, 2010

Today is the anniversary of the death of my best friend in our twenties. She was 29 when she killed herself. I was thirty. So thirty five years ago. What a loss for me, her two kids, her family. Soon after her death her mother died, then her father had a heart attack and died. Only her older brother is alive, if he still is. And those kids, now around forty. I used to talk to her in the car after she died. I was very angry. I blamed myself for not doing more. I blamed her husband. I blamed her family. I wrote a novel about it. I had therapy. I tried to keep up with her kids until they moved back to the northeast and disappeared.

A friend at the time told me, "What makes you think you have the power to save someone else?" It was a good question. I now realize I'd been made to believe I had that power from my family, for whom I was the caretaker. At the time, I felt survivor's guilt, and like I'd been thrown into an alternate universe. A very strange one, where my dear friend had somehow been lost and I was alone.

I've lived every day since with a kind of gratitude that I was stronger or luckier or better supported, and I survived. As Buddhism reminds us, I AM MY OWN PROTECTOR. I've treasured my own life, and sometimes shared it with my friend, in the car, when I'm alone. Long gone, but not forgotten.

Old Age Day by Day August 4, 2010

I went with my Buddhist "swim buddy" to a talk by Juseph Goldstein last night. It was well worth the effort, as he speaks so clearly and lucidly, and has such a gentle aura about him. I saw a lot of friends as well. A dharma talk is grounding. It reminds me of my path, which is comforting. He used an example of looking at the night sky, and identifying the Big Dipper, then looking and attempting to see the stars without that mental construct placed upon the sky. We "see" what we expect to see, but seeing things just as they are requires laying aside appearances and opening our eyes as if for the first time. I find the image lovely, simple and understandable. Without the press of everything we've been conditioned to expect, a whole new world is visible. We get little glimpses of this daily, but we often ignore that "suchness" and build a story around our experiences that actually works against us, prohibiting us from seeing what is so.

I know when I can drop my expectations, immediately I feel freed from my own limitations, and able to see the interconnectedness of all of us. This is why I practice meditation, and the benefit for me. But a little reminder of why I do what I do never hurts, and last night placed me in the center of my own intention. Oh, right, this stuff really works.

Old Age Day by Day August 3, 2010

We had a relaxing time at the cabin, and on the way back bought two beds to be delivered next Saturday, which forces us to return next weekend (awww, isn't that tough?). The dogs love swimming in the lake after tennis balls, and their retrieving is improving. Of course, I am the backup retriever for the retrievers, and my husband is the pitcher. For me, it's a good excuse to wade into the lake, and a peaceful ritual we did every morning. It's perfect summer up there, and I don't know what to call the weather here - perfect global warming?

I've talked to my granddaughter this morning and also to blue baby and white baby. My daughter says pink baby has a name - Fabian. This granddaughter is in a class by herself. We discussed boats and swimming and their upcoming trip here in September. I missed a chance to go up their next week and help out. I already have oral surgery and on the weekend am caring for my foster granddaughter while her mom goes overnight to a wedding.

My life is filled with little tasks and comforting rituals punctuated with visits and small trips to the cabin. I'm glad there is little drama going on. I feel I had enough of that growing up and in my twenties to last a lifetime. The calm times are what gives me strength for upheavals, and keep me grounded about what moments are made up of and how to treasure them.