Better Late than Never

"...part of the wonder of aging today is that we get the time to discover our second chances."

~ Michael Gurian
The Wonder of Aging

I was so relieved to come across this line in the Wonder of Aging, the best book I've read to date on the subject . The concept of discovering a second chance rather than declaring a  lofty "purpose" ( something I had been struggling with) seemed more reasonable and more attainable.  Some folks seem to arrive at retirement with a clear sense of how they will spend this new stage of their lives.  Whether it be to volunteer, or pursue a hobby or new venture, or enjoy travel and special interests with loved ones, they easily and eagerly set off on a new direction.  Not I.

I knew that I didn't want to age as my parents had, in poor health, dissatisfied with life, their world becoming narrower and narrower with every passing month.  But when retirement arrived, I found that I hadn't developed a clear idea of how I did want to age.

So, I set off on a rather convoluted journey of experimentation.  I tried activities I thought I might be interested in, perhaps even thought I should be interested in, or activities others recommended or seemed to enjoy..  I joined a couple book clubs. I volunteered as a docent for 4th and 5th graders visiting the local Art Museum.  I became active in a couple non-profit organizations, surprising myself as I have never been a joiner.  I attended classes, tried my hand at drawing, even knitting. 

Along the way, I noted in my journals whether I did enjoy the activity, whether I felt I added something by my involvement, whether it was satisfying, engaging, whether I had enough skill or the desire and commitment to acquire the skill if I didn't.  Whether I looked forward to it or not.

Along the way, I discovered - that I want to read so many things and to learn about so many topics that I can't do justice to more than one book club; that I no longer have the patience required to deal with the natural exuberance of 4th and 5th graders; that I am not the social animal I thought I was; that I value time alone to read and draw and enjoy my home and my relationships with a few close friends and family.  That I prefer small intimate groups where I feel I still can make a difference.  That there are specific skills I want to develop before I die, like speaking Italian, drawing, using the computer more effectively, and surprisingly, after all these years, cooking.  

Ultimately, with Gurian's inspiration, I arrived at this conclusion-  that this is my second chance - to pursue every day something that intrigues me, something that inspires me, something that brings me personal satisfaction, something that piques my curiosity.  Not because I think I should or because someone else wants me to, but simply because I want to.  

I realize I am blessed...I  have a loving and supportive husband who needs and wants as much personal time and space as I do, siblings and friends whose company enriches the simplest conversation, adequate funds, a nice home in a safe community, a sound mind in a sound body.  I am always grateful.  But clarifying my second chance, discovering it over time has enveloped it all in a blanket of contentment I didn't realize I was searching for.  I know how I want to age.

With Deep Appreciation

"Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty."

~Henry Ford 

I love this quote, and then again, I love to learn.  So, according to Henry, I'll never be old!?

Though I now consider myself a lifelong learner, my love affair with learning didn't start until my early 20's.  Although I always did well in school, my good grades were more a result of innate ability and the fear of disappointing my parents.  I went to college to better my opportunities in life and to avoid the economic struggles I witnessed at home, not out of any thirst for knowledge.  In the process, as was common for my generation, I married, and moved from the Midwest of the early 60's to northern California to put hubby through graduate school.

For the first time I met folks from South Africa and Israel, Germany and France, China and Japan.  The wives of the graduate students formed a support group and I was invited to eat different food, listen to points of view that never would have been entertained in my parents' home, attend events I never would have considered.  

More impactful, however, than the somewhat exotic, worldly young men and women I met during those years, was the elderly wife of my husband's major professor.  Mrs. W. was, in fact, quite unassuming, probably shy. I remember her as in her early 70's, the epitome of a gentle woman, with a halo of white air, blue eyes (one of which was blinded by glaucoma when a young woman), a quiet smile and a wardrobe of tweed skirts, hand knit sweaters and sensible shoes.  I never heard her raise her voice nor criticize anyone, including a very difficult mother-in-law.  I never saw her lose her patience nor challenge even the most outrageous point of view.   She didn't even blink when our new Schnauzer puppy had an accident on her handwoven Persian rug.

What I did see were her accomplishments - she had woven every piece of fabric, other than carpeting, in their home - linens, draperies, even furniture coverings. From the first day of their marriage she had knit all of her husbands argyle socks. She cured olives from their backyard. All with one eye.  

But most of all, she was infinitely curious and eager to learn.  When we wanted to try batik, she joined in.  When Ravi Shankar came for a sitar concert, she came with us.  It didn't matter to us - or to her - that she was almost 50 years our elder. We never would have thought to exclude her, and she never would have thought not to accept our invitation.  Not because of her position, but because of who she was, especially because of her willingness to explore and the almost innocent pleasure she took in the new and different.

I remember the exact moment I understood it was her love of learning that both awed and inspired me.  We had gone to a conference with our husbands and while they were at meetings, we remained at the hotel and met with our books in hand for a session beside the pool, I, with my mystery of the month, and she with her Thackeray and a novel in French.  What followed was not a discussion of the books (thank heaven). but why she read what she did, why she loved to learn, why it was so important for her health and well-being to continue to learn.

If you would have asked me 20, even 10 years ago, to name the five most influential individuals in my life, I doubt that the list would have included Mrs. W. It is only now, when I am near her age, when I have met people who have stopped learning or appear to distrust learning, that I  realize what an invaluable gift she was to that naive, sheltered young woman of 50 years ago. What a difference she made. What an important role model she remains for the woman I am today.

In the Blink of an Eye

     "The great measure of human maturation is the increasing understanding that we

 move through life in the blink of an eye; that we are not long with the privilege of having eyes to see, ears to hear, a voice with which to speak and arms to put round a loved one; that we are simply passing through."

                                                             ~ David Whyte

I have come to this understanding - that we move through life in the blink of an eye - several times in recent years.  Usually, it strikes me again with the news that someone is older than I think he or she is (my nephew who is 45, not 35), or that a celebrity I have followed for years has just died (Natalie Cole), or that an historical event happened longer ago than I remember ( The Sound of Music is 50 years old).

I seem to be thinking this more often these past few months, however, as I notice more and more evidence of my own aging process.  When I look in the mirror and see my mother's face.  When I find it has taken me longer to accomplish a certain task than it did even five years ago or that it has taken more energy.  When the passage of time as measured in the birthdays or anniversaries of loved ones comes as a shock - an uncle who is 90, a couple celebrating their 50th anniversary.  Or, as happened this past week, when I awoke with the startling realization that this was my 75th Christmas and were my father alive, he would be 100 this year.  In the blink of an eye.

This realization can be daunting.  Perhaps it is why we put it away, forget it, are continually surprised when it surfaces again.  Or it can be a gift, a measure of our maturation as David Whyte asserts.  This year I want to hold onto it, to use it to inspire the choices I make and especially the way I spend the gift of another year.  

It was, therefore, with a serendipitous pleasure that I came upon the recent column of Dear Abby entitled "New year is opportunity to set a goal for the future" in which Jeanne Phillips shared her mother's New Year's Resolutions, adapted from the original credo of Al-Anon. They capture my intentions for the coming year.  I've abridged them for myself, added to them, copied them and posted them throughout the house.  I share them in the hope they can inspire you as much as they do me.

  Just for Today;  I will concentrate on this day only.  I will not dwell in the past or worry about tomorrow.  
  Just for Today:  I will be content.  I will focus on the positive. 
  Just for Today:  I will accept what is.  I will correct those things I can correct and accept those I cannot.
  Just for Today:  I will improve my mind.  I will do something that requires effort, thought and concentration.
  Just for Today:  I will make a conscious effort to be agreeable.  I will refrain from trying to improve anybody but myself. (My husband loves this one!)
  Just for Today:  I will do something to improve my health. 
  Just for Today:  I will be grateful for all I have and especially, for all those who love and support me, and -
  Just for Today:  I will not forget that "we move through life in the blink of an eye."

  

Bah Humbug

"I don't have pet peeves; I have whole kennels of irritation."

~Whoopi Goldberg

My commitment to be realistically optimistic has been sorely tried these past days, what with news from and about San Bernadino, Chicago, and Baltimore.  So I'm taking a break and venting.  Hoping that by doing so, the air from my balloon of discontent will be released.  My "kennels of irritation" include:

drivers who pass on the right

private conversations held in public

commercials in which anyone is demeaned in the name of humor

this excruciatingly long and nasty political campaign

political candidates who don't answer the questions asked of them

interviewers who let them get away with it

people who demand respect while being disrespectful to others

opinion masquerading as fact

diatribe posing as debate

the atmosphere of extreme polarization 

sweeping generalizations 

hearsay repeated as truth

rights without responsibilities

assertions without evidence

labeling that diminishes and isolates

But most of all,I am distressed by the current hate and fear mongering that brings back the horrors of Joseph McCarthy and HUAC - and the knowledge that too many Americans know very little about this period of our history and the damage that was done to individuals, our trust in our government, and our reputation in the name of protecting America.  Am I just showing my age?

A Challenging Choice

    "To the question whether I am a pessimist or an optimist I answer that my knowledge is pessimistic, but my willing and hoping are optimistic. "              

~ Albert Schweitzer

I recently came across an expression that has taken up occupancy in the corners of my thoughts, popping up at the oddest moments.  "Realistic optimism"*, the term for at attitude that can support us as we face the challenges of aging in the midst of a "forever young" movement**, initially seemed an oxymoron.  Whenever I watch the news these days - a plethora of chaos and cruelty, fear and hatred - I have to fight off a sense of despair that can threaten to shroud the day in a dark consuming cloud.  When I receive a call saying another friend or family member is struggling with loss or incipient loss, it's hard to stay optimistic.  When I struggle to call forth a word or name that I know I know, I experience a moment of anxiety.

But then, an e-mail arrives with a photo of my nephew's beautiful children, or a friend's daughter, a lovely young bride.  Or I hear from someone I don't recognize telling me how the course he took from me years ago influenced him to be a better husband and father.  Or, surprise, surprise, a local TV station shares a story of compassion or generosity.  Or - best of all, I look at this week's calendar and see three dates with my husband and realize once again that we have found our way into a deeper, gentler friendship than I would ever have expected.  We have learned how to discuss our vastly different political views (well, much of the time); we laugh at the same jokes; we like the same people; we enjoy The Voice together - he a Country Western fan, me an Opera fan.   Go figure?!

Realistic optimism - accepting the reality that the world seems, no, is more dangerous, that bad things happen to good people, that we and those we love will decline and die.  Yet,  AT THE SAME TIME, remembering there are reasons to be optimistic. There are moments of unbelievable beauty and unexpected gestures of kindness and decency from strangers.  There are the people we love who return our love many times over.  Old friends who forgive our forgetfulness.  New friends who open their hearts and homes to us.  Another opportunity to learn, another possibility to contribute.  AT THE SAME TIME.

So, when John and I drive to meet friends on Thanksgiving Day for a splendid buffet that eliminates the need to cook, and we take turns sharing gratitudes from the past year as has become our tradition, high on my list will be discovering this concept of realistic optimism.  Not always easy to maintain, but always, always a blessing.

 by

Happy Thanksgiving!

* realistic optimism - from The Wonder of Aging by Michael Gurian
**forever young society - from Travels with Epicurus by Daniel Klein  

Simplify, Simplify

Our life is frittered away by detail.  Simplify, simplify.
~ Henry David Thoreau

My efforts to simplify started four years ago (although I didn't recognize it as such at the time) when we decided to move to St. George where we owned a second home.  When we sold our Vegas home, we had just 27 days to move. In the midst of the recession, and deluged with foreclosures, the Vegas consignment stores had a glut of belongings.  So we moved a houseful of furniture to a house full of furniture.  There were boxes and crates, chairs and lamps, electronic devices stacked in the garage, and on the patio and courtyard.  Luckily, St. George is a low crime community, so nothing was stolen - I think.

After more than 25 years of marriage and a business run from our home, the accumulation of "stuff" was overwhelming and the decisions required to diminish it equally so, but necessity IS the mother of invention. Boxes and bags of books went to the library; we placed furniture and accessories in several consignment stores; Catholic Charities volunteers came to know John by name as we sent crates of redundancies for donation. Gradually, the patio and courtyard cleared and I could park my car in the garage.  We had successfully downsized.

What followed was months of organizing what was left.  Organizing and reorganizing, labeling and relabeling until I finally realized that merely organizing the stuff was like the proverbial rearranging of the deck chairs on the Titanic.  Better organized, yes, but still too much stuff - so this January I began a campaign of donating or gifting three objects, tossing three objects, and reusing or storing three objects every day. I waged war on the stuff  for six months!  

So recently, when my sister commented that although we have a lot of stuff, our home doesn't look cluttered, (and meant it as a compliment), I was initially disheartened.  All that work, all those months of donating and consigning and tossing.  All the organizing and labeling.  What had I missed?  

Looking back on my efforts, I realize that I had used the criteria of orderly, functional, and creative as I made my decisions. But not simple.  Why not simple? Why now?  And why has it become so easy to let go of things I thought so important until now?

Over these past weeks, I have renewed my campaign.  Another donation to Catholic Charities.  Another to the library.  A box to the food pantry.  I don't have satisfactory answers to my questions yet, but this much I know:

• The more I let go of, the easier it gets.
• The fewer choices, the easier to choose.
• As I simplify space and objects, I'm instinctively simplifying routines and activities as well.
• Less IS more - more space, more time, more freedom, more peace of mind, more satisfaction.
• And less is less as well - less to clean, less to maintain, less to insure, less to worry about, less to remember.
• For me, simplifying means making life simpleR, not necessarily simple. (I'll never be a minimalist!)
• To let go of possessions, I've learned to let go of the meaning attached to them.
• Possessions have no intrinsic value in themselves.
• People simplify their lives for different reasons - some political, some ethical or spiritual, some economics, some purely out of immediate necessity.  I started out of necessity but am now thinking about simplifying more philosophically.
• Although there are movements that foster simpler life styles (the tiny house movement, Voluntary Simplicity, minimalism, etc.) and that are attracting younger folks, I suspect conscious aging fosters simplifying for different reasons.
• Holding this as a process rather than a project reduces stress and encourages creative problem solving.
• Some days it's even fun.

Wondering

"Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened."
                            ~Cora Harvey Armstrong

Sometimes I do wonder what happened.  I wonder how the years have flown by so quickly. How my little nephew is now a corporate executive in his forties, a father of two.  Or how the talented teacher I helped hire not that long ago has been retired for a few years now.  Or how an actor that I haven't seen for awhile is suddenly so....old.  (Like Nick Nolte in A Walk in the Woods!)  Or how I see my mother's face when I look in the mirror.  

Even though I understand that change is occurring more frequently than when I was a youngster and that technology and the explosion of information are driving that speed, I can still be taken back for a few moments when someone doesn't recognize the singers of my childhood - Perry Como? The Four Lads? Rosemary Clooney - was she related to George? I find the In Memoriam segment of the Oscars increasingly saddening as I watch the actors and actresses of my youth disappearing and knowing, as I watch, that there are generations who do not know much, if anything, about them.  Or that they seem to know so little about the movements and events that have shaped this culture and the individuals and groups who initiated them.  Sometimes not even recognizing their names.  Jonas Salk, Bobby Kennedy,  Barry Commoner, Betty Friedan, Edward R. Morrow - or the SDS or Joseph McCarthy.

So, although I still occasionally wonder, I am not surprised when I hear a young woman with some disdain proclaim that she is not a feminist.  Or listen to some politicians speak so easily, too easily,  about sending young men and women to war.  It is not that I feel old at these times, I feel sad.  I feel like an observer, not a participant.  Could it be that folks who lament the good old days, whether young or old, are lamenting the familiar?  Not that those days were better, but that at least they were familiar.

It is, therefore, with great gratitude that I find myself in this sweet community of St. George. Recognized recently in Consumer's Report and Money Magazine as one of the best locations for retirees, I find myself among other seniors who do remember, who share some similar values, and who also wonder.

Note:  If you have been following this new blog, please note the addition of a new gadget for signing on as a follower.  Apparently the two previous gadgets do not achieve that end.  Good thing that I enjoy learning!

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