Old Age Day by Day November 22, 2010

This is the last day before our week long trip, and I have all those details stirring around in my head like the sugarplums the night before Christmas. It's going to be really cold, so I've been hunting up clothing, and searching for batteries for flashlights, and we spent yesterday at lunch wondering whether we should buy chains for the car. So, of course, last night I woke up in the wee hours and could not get back to sleep. When I finally did I had a nightmare. Why does it seem there are so many things to do to get away? Because there are.

My guilt about leaving the dogs is warring with my excitement at seeing our granddaughter and being with the whole family. I bounce from wondering if I should bring another book for her, to wanting to be sure the dogs have walks at the kennel. I'm a yoyo with the string wound too tight or all tangled up.

When we get on the road, I'll settle down, because I'll have done all I can, and what has been forgotten was not really important, and most things can be fixed by a stop at Walgreens. And I'll be sleepy on the ride, and curious about the landscape and grateful for the goodness of my kids and their generosity.

But for now, I'm a wind up toy bumping into walls.

Old Age Day by Day November 21, 2010

Early evening yesterday a stupendous thunderstorm hit our area with much lightening, thunder, buckets of rain, and generally all the drama of grand opera. I was in a small cottage with other chorus members trying to rehearse when it hit. I felt frightened and vulnerable, and trapped. There were windows all around and the floor was vibrating. I used to live in Colorado, but it's been a long time, and my nerves were not prepared. Then I drove a chorus member home, and accidentally ended up on the freeway, whereupon I promptly hit a wall of water in my lane. Thankfully, the car plowed through, but I knew I had no control. Powerless. Another little reminder.

Then it cleared up, we went to a nearby cafe for dinner, and I calmed down. Okay, I had one glass of prosecco, which helped. It was cosy and warm in the restaurant, I was surrounded by other people, and life went on. Except that shakiness has lingered a bit. My body is on a a high alert. I can feel it.

We're about to take a trip to our daughter's house for Thanksgiving, and there may be rain and snow, and though I don't have to be body searched, it is a lot of driving and unknowns. Somehow last night made the risk palpable, and I am reminded to be careful and aware on our trip. I can see why ancient peoples saw such storms as signs from the gods. Without strong shelter, electricity and news, the whole experience would have symbolized something vast. Maybe it still does. I know the earth is suffering from our abuse of the planet, and such fierce weather is likely to become more the norm. It's almost as if Mother Nature is very, very angry.

And when she is, we are still often helpless. We can turn on the weather, but we can't shut it off.

Old Age Day by Day November 19, 2010

I stayed after rehearsal last night with some others to practice more, as our director was unhappy with our progress on the songs. I worked hard, and my back is bothering me today, and in a way, if I leave my ego out of it, I don't really care about our performance at all. I just love learning songs that I can sing to myself or my granddaughter. I like the process, not the product. I also am too old to worry about what the director thinks of me. By my own standards, I've learned a lot, sound good most of the time, and am off book for all but one Spanish song. I love practicing with the recording on my computer, and I adore the people in the chorus. That's it for me.

The director has to worry about how she looks as director of us. She feels she will be mortified. Then she should cancel the concert and wait until June, when we will have mastered the songs. We are grown ups, we can take it. But I think she is afraid of losing some chorus members or us not getting "our money's worth". She's torn, and disappointed and maybe even angry. These are her problems, not mine.

My job is right effort towards the concert, and yet, for me, the middle way in all things. I am not clinging to the concert, with nebulous expectations. I am in the present, grateful for learning these songs, the camraderie of the chorus members, the passion of the director, the daily pleasure of practicing and singing. In our culture, that is a bad attitude, but in my life, it leads to equanimity.

Old Age Day by Day November 18, 2010

My daughter informed me of a wonderful, delightful thing yesterday - one of our oldies but goodies radio stations has begun with the Christmas music. Let the season begin! I may have trouble with the decorations before Halloween, and the forty seven catalogues in my mailbox each day, but I can never get enough of Christmas carols. I drive my husband insane, and thus, often, the wise thing to do is listen in the car when I'm by myself. This prevents my husband from committing an act it might regret or be severely punished for.

Now, when I go out into the world seeking groceries or stamps or dog food, I can cheer myself up and belt out songs to my heart's content. And no CD's necessary (I am of the generation where putting in a CD while driving is a terrorizing act to the roadways). Yes, I could plug in an IPod, but only if I possessed one.

So Joy to the World, and you better not pout or Santa's going to find out who's naughty or nice.

Old Age Day by Day November 17, 2010

Well, another huge distraction from the economy and the war in Afganistan - Prince William is getting married! Now, for the rest of my life, there will be news flashes at the checkout counters, covers of Kate for eternity, an industry arising to analyze her every move and look. It wasn't just Princess Diana who was hounded, so were we all. And it's a teensy tiny bit difficult to be happy for her. Him, maybe, he's got an ally and a female presence he has been missing. But her? What a deadly life! It's like life in prison without parole.

Oh, well, there are benefits, if one likes attention and expensive babbles. I don't, so I can't see the sunny side.

And she will never be able to do what Greta Garbo did, just leave it all. They would hunt her down. It's a different era now, with no pretense at respecting privacy. We're all over exposed, and have no secrets. Not protecting each other leads to an inability to protect ourselves. We are in a culture that does not teach us we have a right to say no. Invasion of the body snatchers has already happened, but just as in the movies, nobody has noticed, and nobody can fight it.

Old Age Day by Day November 16, 2010

One of our dogs is in an inner tube. She looks like a dog about to go for a swim, but with a disgusted expression on her face. We now think she got sap on her butt, which caused chewing, which caused bleeding, which caused scabs, and, since she was about to bury herself in the back yard, I raced out and found this tube thing at a pet store, and she's been in it 24/7 for over two weeks. Who knew it took so long for a butt to heal?

The cone was a disaster, because she couldn't get in or out of the car, or up the brick steps in back to our yard, or drink water out of her dish or eat. She looked like Little Bo Peep turning into a werewolf.

I wouldn't call the tube sophisticated, but at least it looks kind of like she's a lifeguard at the beach, except for the lack of sand and water.

Would she restrain herself from chewing if the tube was off? Can a zebra will itself to be a solid color?

So, every time I look at her I feel guilty, she has those eyes, and I also have the urge to laugh. She is not amused.

Old Age Day by Day November 15, 2010

I've been reading a book about Cahokia, the great ancient Native American city around St. Louis, Missouri. It makes me want to visit, and see the ruins and what has been excavated, even though most of the huge mounds have eroded or been removed. It was a site like Teothihuacan outside Mexico City, but during the Eisenhower years freeways and subdivisions were built over a lot of it. Americans think they have to get on a plane to see ancient ruins, but Mesa Verde, Chaco Canyon, Canyon de Chelly, and many other sites are still preserved in the Southwest, due to dryness and lack of aggressive development, as is the case in Egypt I feel there has been subconscious vested interest in not seeing Native peoples here as having anything cultural to offer, because they the guilt of their decimation is lessened.

But we have these treasures in our own backyard, and we often don't respect our own history. History here didn't begin in the 1700's, it began over 10,000 years ago.

Old Age Day by Day November 14, 2010

Well, the Janecek opera last night, The Markopolos Case, was amazing. I was the only one who felt so. My husband, son and his wife were not riveted. It's dark and brooding, and has some big philosophical ideas stirring around. I like that. The music was sublime and the soprano was the whole show. I like that.

It took some of the sting out of my college team losing and the residual effects of seeing the movie Inside Job. Today is another glorious fall day, and I'm going to brunch at a friend's. And seeing an old friend of hers who is visiting.

My husband is having such back problems, and I feel so helpless. He's frustrated as only a man who's been super healthy all his life can be. He sees himself in pain for the rest of his life. He can't get past what is so right now, yet, in this case, some distracting thinking could remind him things change. I haven't experienced the pain he is, unless I count childbirth, and that has an end that helps you through to the other side. I'm his witness, and his sounding board, but I can't physically ease him.

So there is this balance in my body right now - somebody I love is suffering, but I myself am fine. How to be grateful for my own good day, without being insensitive to my partner, who is having a very bad day. Ah, the challenges of marriage!

Old Age Day by Day November 13, 2010

I saw Inside Job, the documentary about the housing bubble crash, and it was scarier than any horror movie. I went with my friend and her brother, who is visiting, and we had a great time, with my husband joining us for dinner. It's exciting to meet someone I've heard so much about for many years. And the dinner eased away the feelings that arose in me from the movie, until my husband later asked me if the film had upset me, and I realized the movie had dampened my mood, and I'd had a bit of a struggle to chat and socialize. Most of the information I already knew, so I think it was really about seeing these people interviewed and watching their utter lack of guilt or sense of responsibility.

The new part for me was how academics supplement their salaries with consulting fees from financial institutions, and then consult our government - without any awareness that they have a huge conflict of interest and ethical responsibilities to the people they teach and advise. It is horrific. So economics seems to be the study of how to accumulate wealth at the expense of whomever gets in the way. There is no morality. They are in fact insistent that there is no conflict.

But most depressing of all is that Obama's advisors are all the same people who declined to admit there was a crash coming, and reassured the American people that all was secure. They should all be in jail, but instead, they are at the helm of the current administration as well. In some third world countries, they might actually have been prosecuted, but not here. Here they are lionized and paid enormous sums of money for past failures. And we are ruining the lives of people in other countries by our recklessness. I am so ashamed.

Let's face it, this is gambling, these people are addicted, and they do nothing but harm, because our country has no restrictions on their behavior. And there are no consequences for them, just for us.

Old Age Day by Day November 12, 2010

My friend who has been on a trip for three weeks returned and we had a good old talk on the phone yesterday. We could have gone on forever, except I had chorus rehearsal. How lucky I am to have friends who still like to actually talk to me instead of reading Facebook, or emailing. I'm a dinosaur, but with other dinos around me.

I hope to meet another dinosaur's brother today. He's visiting and I've never met him. I'm looking forward to it.

And tomorrow is our last opera. Lots of lovely anticipation, and, in the meantime, a beautiful day and lots of choices for how to spend it. What could be better?

Old Age Day by Day November 11, 2010

Baby, it's cold outside! Beautiful sun, but I'm all sweatered up. My Spanish class is freezing, and I wore my coat the whole time last night. The classroom is actually colder than outside. But luckily, I was distracted a bit by attempting to learn the numbers. We played bingo the last half hour, so the next stop is undoubtedly whatever Mexico's equivalent to Las Vegas is. Counting money is muy importante in any country, to be sure. I once passed up a lovely pair of shoes in Rome because I thought they cost thousands of dollars. When I returned home and figured it out it was about forty dollars. So knowing numbers is crucial to the shopping and eating experience.

Our teacher taught us a little song about numbers, one he teaches to preschoolers, which is about our level. It's amazing how singing something you need to learn makes it delightful, when reciting it in prose would be deadly. I'll never forget Danny Kaye singing "Inch Worm" in the movie Hans Christian Anderson (how could I forget it, I own the movie and watch it at least once a year). Two and two are four, four and four are eight, eight and eight are sixteen, sixteen and sixteen are thirty two. Inch Worm, Inch Worm, measuring the marigolds, you and your arithmetic will probably go far.

I wanted to sing one of my Spanish songs for the teacher last night, but there wasn't time. Next week. Maybe I can fit all the words into the rhythm by then. Right now, I skip a few, as my tongue won't wrap itself around some words quickly enough. And then there are the Rs. That's never going to happen. I'm too old a dog to teach that new trick. Woof!

Old Age Day by Day November 10, 2010

Today is the 25th anniversary of my mother's death. She was younger than I am now when she died. She was a complicated mix of wounded child and responsible adult. She was brave about the many things she feared. She conquered cancer twice. Both times the doctors said she wouldn't survive. She smoked and drank and abused her body in that way a lot of people did in her era and by the time she knew they were bad for her, she couldn't stop. She was funny and kind, yet a gossip and judgmental. She had a big heart, and a soft spot for other people's suffering. She had trouble when visiting India, because of the poverty and people on the streets. She had lived that kind of poverty herself. She had no education, but many friends with degrees and charmed lives. There was something genuine about her that people were drawn to. She could do anything with her hands: paint, draw, sew, crochet, knit, needlepoint, upolster, arrange flowers and furniture. She looked like a millon dollars in her suits and cocktail dresses she made herself.

She loved a boy and he died in the war, then she married my Dad at nineteen, and they fought and worked side by side until she died. She never had a life of her own. She had worked up until she married, but never again. For her work meant a factory with cotton dust in her lungs and long hours with no holidays. Her beloved sister got trapped in that work for fifty years, then retired without a pension.

She loved us unconditionally - she used to say she'd love us even if we were murderers. That was a strange thing to say, but she meant it. When she got cancer the first time, she later told me, she decided she was not going to die because we were eleven and fourteen. And she didn't. She was written up in medical journals. She fought to be there for us. But she lost something in the fight - part of her heart, maybe some damage (it was a brain tumor and she had to have surgery, as well as radiation and chemo) that didn't heal - and she was often not her vivacious self afterward. Depression knocked her for a loop, and nobody addressed it. She got nasty when she was drunk, and her words were deeply wounding so we backed off, and in a way she lost my brother and me.

I remember her as a woman defined by her attachments to so many people. Her huge family, her countless friends, the younger people she mentored. She was at her worst with her children, often, and her best with her grandchildren. I wish she'd lived to see them grow up.

Old Age Day by Day November 9, 2010

I like seeing Obama in India. He looks relaxed and happier. He did live in Indonesia a couple of years, and maybe he is more comfortable in a sea of brown faces. India is young (the population, I mean) and on it's way up in economic power and prosperity, and so is Obama. His mother loved seeing and living in other cultures, and he thrives there too. He's a global kind of guy.

I wish more Americans had the opportunity to see other cultures, and get beyond bathrooms and modern conveniences, to experience what these places have to offer. The richness of their cultures and the amazing architecture force the mind to detach a bit from our consumer driven culture. The people are often open and friendly, and they are curious. Why aren't we curious?

How many Americans have even been to Mexico or Canada? Yes, we have a vast country, with many glorious places to visit, but we need to look beyond our own KFCs and TV Channels and listen to the music and language of our neighbors. We tend to insularity, and that impulse is a force for stagnation and rigid thinking. Other people of the world have things to teach us. Things that may turn out to be necessary for our continued survival, but certainly are essential to our well being.

Old Age Day by Day November 8, 2010

I had a good weekend. On Saturday we saw a sublime performance of Alfano's Cyrano de Bergerac, with Placido Domingo in the lead. It was perfectly cast, the voices were gorgeous, as were the sets costumes, orchestra, the whole shebang. I wept buckets in the final scene. Rostand's play has more to say that I used to think, and acted well, it sings with complexity. Alfano's music was complex as well - modern and dissonant yet melodic and passionate. Very interesting.

Then we had dinner with our older son and his wife, and that was delightful. We hadn't seen him in a year. But it felt like a day, as we, as usual, had plenty to talk about.

Then yesterday my friend and I saw a touching, lovely documentary - Tibet in Song - that was educational, beautiful to listen to, and riveting with the story of a Tibetan man living in India who goes back to Tibet to record folk songs and is imprisoned for it. I'd so love to have the soundtrack.

Then the dogs and I watched a DVD of Carole King and James Taylor at the Troubador. It was an exceptionally musical weekend. And this morning, when I was walking the dogs, I found I could sing all of one of the Spanish songs from my chorus without score or words. Yeah!

Old Age Day by Day November 6, 2010

I received the good news this morning that a friend's surgery went well. Until I know, there is this buzz in the back of my head. A little worry theme that accompanies whatever else I am doing. And how my mood has lightened by the reassurances, and my breath airier. At my age, there is a lot of this sort of thing. Many friends struggle with health issues and tests where the results are awaited with fear and hope. I don't think it gets easier, but it is now a familiar world - this world of loss and pain and fear. Every day I am grateful for health. It's what I pray for most with those I love and those I don't even know. With health, all other problems can be tackled. Without it, the challenge becomes in striving for it, or some semblance of it.

Loss of a sense of control has given me a sense of the gift of health. The pleasure of walking, bending, lifting, using my hands. Last night I was knitting as we watched a pretty awful movie, and suddenly I noticed my hands didn't hurt and I could knit without a break. Gratitude washed over me ( though I was more thankful when the movie ended). It's wonderful. My hands work. They were never pretty, just short and stubby fingers, a child's hands, but they do a good job of work, even now.

And my eyes are still fighting the good fight despite a degenerative eye disease. Thanks my body, thanks for your Rocky like determination.

Old Age Day by Day November 5, 2010

I've already had a brisk walk with one friend, and am about to have tea with another, and lunch with a third. How fortunate am I? Yes, I know girls can be mean, but my women friends have been the rock upon which my life has been built. And when a friend and I drifted apart, it was usually mutual, or a gentle disentanglement from an unhealthy situation. Sometimes we remind others of a person they have difficulty with, and that plays out and then we realize it (through therapy or gradual insight) and we disengage. I used to hang onto friends out of loyalty - whether they were good for me or not. I treat myself better now. I apply the scale. On balance - is this relationship good for me or miserable? With long time friends, I tend to tuck in, roll with the punches and wait it out. Newer people, I make decisions. I trust my feelings more.

But the biggest change is being kinder to myself; being my own advocate. I have decided (fanfare) that not everyone has to like me. I don't need to twist into a pretzel to be entertaining, more loyal, more thoughtful, more wonderful. I can just be who I am. And if it's a one way street in their direction, I quit. I need some energy thrown my way. I've relaxed so much from not needing all that "love" that isn't genuine because I'm not genuine. I laugh more. I don't get my knickers in a twist.

I'm quite a pill to swallow. If it feels good going down, fine. If it doesn't spit me out. I'm waterproof now.

Old Age Day by Day November 4, 2010

We are going to the opera Saturday to see Cyrano, with Placido Domingo. I've seen him before, and he's magnetic and has a gorgeous voice. It may not be the same now he's in his seventies, but he gets all my empathy. I actually love the story so much. I was a great one for Hugo and Dumas and the romantic French melodramas as a teenager, and I adore Cyrano. I identified with him completely. I, too, felt not conventionally pretty enough to attract the beautiful people, despite being funny and smart. I knew early on looks got you farther. And I had the fatal irony Cyrano represents: I was as superficial as the people I ridiculed, for I was attracted to the gorgeous ones as well. The silent guy with knockout eyes. I imagined him with depths of feeling and smoldering intelligence. Probably he had nothing interesting to say. So here were a bunch of us having crushes on others, and we should have turned to each other and taken a good look, a long look, but we were part of the culture. At about seventeen, I started to get it - that probably some pretty interesting guys were hiding behind acne. I began talking to one in chorus, and he was funny and satiric and opinionated about everything. I was, too. I asked him to the holiday dance at school, and we went steady for the spring semester. By the time I left for college, even handsome guys somehow liked me, and I had my pick. Something had changed. Probably the glasses replaced by contact lenses, growing out my thick black hair, the clothing styles, and definitely mascara played a role. So my ugly duckling days were mostly over, and though there was always a sense that a gorgeous guy wouldn't probably want me on his arm, I now knew that narcissism was boring to be around.

Cyrano is a glorious story, but it's a story about adolescence, and clinging to beauty over substance. Cyrano's passion was for a shadow, without substance. That is his lesson to us. Roxanne is vain and not worth the effort.

Old Age Day by Day November 3, 2010

Well, the elections are over. I'm going to focus on the Giants' parade today, though I'm not going, just focusing. With politics, I attempt to take the long view. What goes up must come down, what has been learned must be learned again. Self interested people appear to triumph, but eventually the people they manipulate wake up. Having a sense of humor is essential. Work for what you want, don't gripe about it. Money doesn't necessarily trump experience. Ugly campaign ads often backfire, but not always. In an election year, Thanksgiving seems such a relief - we can remember the cooperation that allowed the Pilgrims to flourish, and the irony that they declined to show their gratitude to the Wampanaogs. NOW we are grateful, now that the saviors are on reservations. Hum. Guess Thanksgiving isn't much of a relief for us Indians.

As usual, California did it's own thing. We ain't white enough to get excited about a party of tea with pretend Indians. We aren't impressed with big bucks - after all, we have Hollywood and the attendant rehabs studded throughout the state. We know money doesn't make you wise or just or generous. Glamour is overrated.

I voted early but not often. I don't pretend to think I helped fix anything. I pray when I want to address that angle.

Old Age Dday by Day November 2, 2010

Well, the Giants won the World Series. Wow. My Dad would have been so excited. All those games at Candlestick wrapped in blankets, drinking hot chocolate, all the morning breakfast table discussion second guessing the manager, all the worship of Mays, McCovey, Cepeda and Marichal. My Dad was built like a baseball player, as is my brother, and he had the heart for it. He loved tennis, but would have adored being a baseball player. These Giants broke our hearts - Renteria alone was a whole novel, and the kid pitchers, the baby catcher (my favorite position always), the manager who said nothing and kept giving his guys a chance, including Burrell right up to the end. It was baseball drama at its best, and I didn't miss a minute of it.

My husband said this morning that he felt lousy, and he hadn't had even a beer last night. Well, emotion wrings you out as good as any alcohol, and I think he's exhausted from watching the game and holding his breath.

Our younger daughter watched with us, and I just want to say, Dad, you got us all hooked, even the one who doesn't remember you (maybe I helped with that, or the older kids). Our hearts belong to baseball.

Old Age Day by Day November 1, 2010

I must say, I love this technology where I can wake up the morning after Halloween and see photos hot off the press of my granddaughter and foster granddaughter in their costumes. They both looked so cute, and I got to share in their delight, even though I didn't see either of them. And the kindness of their mothers to include us makes me proud.

Today is another warm, sunny fall day. It is November now, but I've been watching the world series diligently, so summer feels not yet gone. And tonight I don't have Spanish, so I can watch the next game. Seeing so many young players is fun. There lives are before them, and their bodies and minds are making a dream come true.

It gives me back a bit of my youth, and I'm grateful for it. Not that I want to go back, but I get to relive and remember my own Halloweens, my kids' and the baseball days of summer. Nice.