Old Age Day by Day November 4, 2012

I got up today an hour earlier than I needed to, due to the time change.  Oh, well.  I even set the alarm, without registering that it was going to be totally inaccurate.  I'm going to meditation this morning, so I can't go back to bed, and it's sunny and beautiful, so I don't feel too sorry for myself.  A childhood friend sent me a 1950s photo of the tiny town where we lived as kids.  It could be right out of "To Kill a Mockingbird" or "The Help".  Of course, I didn't even live in the town, per se, we lived right outside on a road off the main highway.  Behind our house were woods that went on and on.  I took the school bus into town, and biked there.  Though there was no destination really.  There was a drug store, the school, but no real place to land, so you had to be visiting a friend to even bother.  The movie theater had closed down, never to re-open, and the VFW and Masonic buildings were for our parents.  We went to church, and vacation Bible school.  There were dances at the K-12 school in the auditorium/stage/basketball court.  But most dances happened in people's homes.  Shopping was an all day event in Richmond, with a meal at the Hot Shoppe cafeteria.  That's when I learned to be very decisive very quickly, because if you weren't agreeable, your time was up and we were in the boy's department for my brother or my mother was looking at linens in Tallheimers.  To this day, I can always find something to buy; I'm flexible.  She who hesitates is lost.   No ideas of the perfect shoes or insistence on a certain color of coat.  I choose from what's available and in my size.  My mother sewed most of our clothes, so she was in no panic to outfit me.  Underwear and shoes and socks.  Those were about the only items she needed to buy.  To my dismay!  When I grew up, I was prepared for living in Fiji, where there were no stores with anything in my size.  I wore what I brought, and bought a sewing machine.  So I know how to do without a place to shop.  And now, even when I have all the time in the world to look, after about twenty minutes I feel the urge to wrap it up, pick out something, and leave.  Mom would be so proud.