Old Age Day by Day June 7, 2011

Getting older creates the obvious losses like illness and death of friends. But another sadness for me is the retirement move thing. We've had dear friends move away to retirement destinations, and sometimes it feels like we are the only ones still around. There is a tipping point, I'm sure, but right now we're not at it. Still, having to drive many hours to visit, or fly across country or even just the arranging it takes to have dinner together is a blow. Things change. And this is another reminder, but I have to wonder how much place matters. However, collecting all these scattered friends in one location would be impossible, and moving to where any of them are living exiles us from others. My best friend is two states away, my best friend here is moving perhaps only a city or two away, but farther from me than before. What happens when we can't drive any more? My childhood best friend is flying out this month to see me after a zillion years. She lived in the middle of the country for the past forty years, but now she's on the other coast. Actually, it probably will be cheaper to fly to New York that where she was before. But it's a long haul.

Right now the anchor for me is probably that 3 of my 4 kids live here. I seldom see them, but I feel the connection and am comforted by it. But my other kid and the grandkid are two states away, and I miss birthdays, holidays, being there to help out when she's sick. My field is huge. It takes a lot of energy to maintain it, and my resources are not what they were. This struggle is one I share with other friends my age, and there is no answer. There is only coping and remaining fresh to what is up right now, and how to carefully care for myself and all my dear ones. One day at a time.

Old Age Day by Day June 6, 2011

Another rainy day. I've bought groceries, and plan to stay in the rest of the day, hoping for better weather tomorrow. Yesterday my daughter, her boyfriend and I went to see Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris". I'm such a Stein devotee that I wanted to see Kathy Bates playing her, and she was delightful. The ringers for the famous artists and writers are mostly dead on and it's great to see them. It's a fluff of a movie, with Owen Wilson as the Woody stand-in, and he mumbles convincingly. Of course, Woody/Owen is a genius (even Gertrude Stein reads his manuscript and approves - what a writer's fantasy!) who has many beautiful women vying for his attention. But the cinematography is gorgeous - it's a love song to Paris. One odd thing: Woody/Owen ends up with a French woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to Mia Farrow, and she is in the last frame of the movie. What's that about?
Woody wears all his obsessions on his chest for everyone to see. The plot is his usual male fantasy of beautiful women, the younger the better, who appear ridiculous but willing to do anything for a mumbler. Right.
The most fun is watching male reviewers justifying their identification with Woody. Allen has not grown, though he is shrewd, and casts superbly. This time, at least, he is playful enough to attract an audience that is beyond his usual. A lot of people will have fun guessing who the ringers are and laughing at the parodies.
My husband won't see one of his movies, because Allens private life is so perverted. But occasionally I see a film of his or Polanski, though of the two, Polanski really has something to say, even though his vision is dark and corrupt. But I'm not comfortable doing it. We used to know a family that had their daughter in a private girl's school in Manhattan. Allen was a fixture there at the end of the day, ooggling the girls. I'm not sure what the difference is between him and a peeping Tom. Pathetic, and creepy.

Old Age Day by Day June 5m 2011

There is a white cat in the next yard succeeding in causing my dog to bark. She's the protector, and you can see her go through this struggle where she knows her duty, but is nevertheless afraid. It's very stressful for her. I can identify. How many times do we make that leap on behalf of our children, our spouses, our friends, even ourselves. Recently, at a party of colleagues of my husband's, I had to force myself not to run back to the car and drive off. Nobody was speaking to us, I'd had other dismal experiences with scientists, and I was mortified. I stayed for my husband, and of course eventually someone did speak to me and everything turned out okay. I wasn't glad I had come, but was relieved I hadn't skipped like a chicken livered coward. How many times did I attempt something physical to encourage my child? Or speak up about a book list with a teacher? For me making phone calls is agony, but for my work, my students, my clients I advocated, because to no do so was a dereliction of duty. You don't have to be brave inside, you only have to act as if.

So I know she's scared of that cat, but she puts up good bark. That's usually all it takes.

Old Age Day by Day June 4, 2011

It's pouring down rain, and windy, and thouroughly unpleasant out. I've still got a bit of my mystery left to finish, but it's way too gloomy to be reading about the Civil War, so I'm going to have to make a run to my friendly mystery bookstore, luckily located only seven houses away. I looked over the movies playing, but nothing excites me. I'm waiting for the Malick film. We're about to surpass the record for rain in June, but this fact is not causing any celebration in my neighborhood.

My husband wants to go get wood and have a fire, but we did that last weekend at the cabin, and I do not find the thought cosy. I want to get OUT, without an umbrella, hat, raincoat, and the dripping in the car, getting in and out. Boy, am I spoiled! My husband is happily doing a puzzle in the dining room. But the dogs and I are gloomy.

Hopefully, some idea will occur, and in the meantime, I can work on my book. A little music might help. And cocoa.

Old Age Day by Day June 3, 2011

My husband and I filed for Social Security today, and for Medicare. Welcome, geezerdom. By the time I'd sorted through Senior Discounts and tickets, AARP magazines and the like, I'm prepared. I've had Medicare Part A for almost a year. Now for Part B! I am relieved to have begun the switch. It will take a couple of months for us to be official and have the cards. It still seems strange to be this old, and not feel as crumpled on the inside as I look on the outside. I'm so old now I no longer worry about what is age appropriate or if my hair is too long. I think witches have it nailed: long gray hair and black to the ankles. Hides a multitude of sins.

I was talking with my best friend yesterday and saying I'd begun a new book, and she worried it might not be saleable. For heaven's sake, even my books that are marketable are not really, according to the agents I've tried. I might as well write what I damn please. There is no audience anyway, so who cares if I'm writing a book about sitting with people dying. I'm beyond those kind of boundaries, at my age.

I've written a book about battered women's shelters from the workers point of view, and that, according to my agent, was supposed to be a mini-series. I've written a mystery, a comedy set in Texas, a book about a white woman and a Black homeless man she lets live in the basement, a memoir of Fiji. It matters not what I write - I do not have the luck of the Irish, or Scottish, or German. I have the luck of the Native American.

So, I'm free, free, free of success or ambition or judgment! Well, almost.

Old Age Day by Day June 2, 2011

Another overcast day. It does affect my mood. Not that I was going to the beach or anything, but I'm sick of the bookstore outing alternated with the grocery. I walked the dogs this morning, of course, but in a raincoat and hat with a brisk pace to outrun the rain, if necessary. There are some movies I could see this weekend, but the one I'm still waiting for is only in the city. It will take another week or so for it to be here. I'm sick of all my DVDs. Several of my friends are out of town or moving, so no lunch date. I have my foster granddaughter this afternoon, so there's that. But if it rains, nowhere to take her. We'll be watching Brother Bear yet again. She likes to see a movie until she's memorized it, then move on. Unfortunately, by then I've had a brain imprint and if I'm not careful, will turn into a cartoon character.

Tonight is a sectional rehearsal, which is not exciting, and tomorrow is dress rehearsal. I don't like the concert thing, as I've mentioned before, so this part is just to get over with for me. I am part of a group, so I have to do my part, but I'm way ready for a break, sick of the songs, and feeling pressure about doing a good job. Again, I'm not inviting anyone to come. It's not that I think we are bad, we're okay, and the songs are great and the director is wonderful. I don't know exactly what it is. I have no stage fright. I just don't want to perform.

I guess I'll write a while then read my Civil War book. I seem a bit damped down. Like the weather.

Old Age Day by Day June 1, 2011

I saw a documentary yesterday by myself: The Cave of Forgotten Dreams" by Werner Hertzog. It was beautiful and fascinating, about a cave in France recently discovered that has rock art from 32,000 years ago and before. The images are so beautiful and powerful. It leads you to imagine what these people's lives were like and to see all the connections between then and now. I'm going to try to drag some friends or family members to see it before it leaves. And I'm so excited about Terence Malick's "Tree of Life" coming out. It's not here yet but will be soon. His movies are so dear to my heart.

The weather today is like winter with more flowers out. Overcast, gray, threatening rain. I got caught in the rain a bunch yesterday. Today I'm going to work and read, only going out for my voice lesson. I'm reading the book about little girls and Disney Princesses and it's fascinating. My girls were all grown up before this phenomenon hit childhood, but I see it with my foster granddaughter and granddaughter. It helps that the writer is funny and not judgmental. She had a genuine curiosity to understand what was happening to her daughter. Her research is eye opening. I"m grateful that toys and clothes for girls used to come in colors other than pink. With the granddaughters I just pick what I approve of to give them - the pressure is on their moms. And the pressure sounds like it's huge.

Well, I shall do my best to cheer myself up on this gloomy day. And try not to think too much about global warming.