A Reason to Get Up in the Morning

purpose (n):  the reason for which someone exists
The New Oxford American Dictionary

Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life would most likely approve of this definition. As might the throng of readers who have purchased his book in the ten years since it was first published, making it the second more translated book in the world, second only to the Bible.

This definition and the Rev. Warren's thesis have bothered me since I first encountered them.  The idea that each of us has a single life purpose and that only if we discover it and live to achieve it, will we be fulfilled, flies in the face of my experience.

At first, I thought my reaction was simply because my generation rarely used that word to describe why they existed, or even why they made the decisions they made.  Commitment -yes; responsibility - yes; achievement - yes.  Sometimes, merely survival.  Or the Catholic catechism reason for our existence: "to know, love and serve God in this world and to be happy with Him in the next."   The closest I came to the concept of life purpose was when the nuns tried to convince me that I had a "calling" to become a nun.  (Until my constant questioning convinced them that I would have trouble with the vow of obedience!  Somehow the calling ceased to exist.)

I  recognize that there have been individuals throughout history who have lived lives of a singular purpose.  Think Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Theresa, Nelson Mandela, various famous artists. But personally, I have known wonderful people who would have told you they didn't act from any all-encompassing purpose.  I have known happy and satisfied people who would look at you askance were you to ask them to define the purpose of their lives. Plus, I consider myself to be a content adult, only mildly neurotic, who has done some worthy things in and with my life, and I have never been able to declare a life purpose.

Eventually, I settled on merely disagreeing, with little more than an occasional twinge when I came upon another book purporting to "help you discover your life purpose."   

Then, a few months ago, I began to read books and articles about successful aging.  And would you know it, much of the research pointed to having a purpose as an essential ingredient in aging well.  However, the distinction was having a purpose, not Purpose with a capital P.   Simply put, a reason to get up in the morning.  Purpose as meaning.  Purpose as direction.  Purpose as commitment.  Now, this fits with my experience.  

In my late teens, I would have said that what drove my choices was wanting to be the first woman in my family to go to college.  Later it was to be a good wife and a good teacher...good at my jobs.  Still later it was to survive the aftermath of divorce .  With each new change, a different purpose or commitment, a new direction. Sometimes just to weather the transition between what was and what could be. The constant, not a Life Purpose but the life changes that call for different purposes.

I think finding a new reason to get up in the morning may be one of the most challenging aspects of retirement and the ensuing years, especially if your previous reason has been success in your career or acquiring things or status.  Some folks approach this stage of their lives  already knowing what that reason will be - travel, the arts, an interest, hobby or commitment to which they can now devote all their time, their role as grandparent or community elder,  etc.  

Others, and I include myself, need to take some time to explore what might engage their skills and expertise, what new directions beckon to them, perhaps to regroup and soul search awhile.  To remain open to possibilities they may have dismissed when younger or possibilities they never imagined to exist.  

Either way, purpose with a small p.  Purpose as reason to get up in the morning.  Purpose as an ingredient in the recipe for aging well.  

The Odd Little Moments

"The happiest of lives, seen in retrospect, is but a collection of odd little moments."

~  Unknown*

I don't remember the author of this quote, one of my favorites.   But I do remember the moment I first saw it.  It was one of three quotes, written in elegant calligraphy on a postcard, sent by my then principal who, though not given to intimate conversations, was obviously concerned about my emotional state at that time.  In the throes of a devastating divorce and wallowing in self-pity, I was sure I would never be happy again.  And, I am embarrassed to admit, I let everyone around me know it!  Ad nauseum!

This quote in particular, and the fact that this reserved woman had sent it, caught me up short.  That night I began to capture the odd little moments of the day that might give me, even for a second, the hope that I could be happy again one day.  Night after night I persisted, not noticing that eventually, the little lists developed into a gratitude practicel. 

In the almost 40 years that have passed, I have continued to list the odd little moments, sometimes in a journal dedicated only to that.  Sometimes I've included them in my daily journal. Sometimes at night, sometimes the next day, but rarely with a lapse of a couple days.  During the happiest periods of my life, during the difficult - the suicide of a friend, the death of my parents, Cat Scratch Fever (yes, there is such a thing), my cancer, John's. During all the transitions. Some days it was a stretch to recall even one positive moment, let alone the minimum of three I set myself. Some days I could, and do, list ten.

These days, when I am learning to deal with issues related to the short term memory lapses that develop with aging - where did I put my glasses, what's that actor's name, why did I come into this room, etc., etc., - remembering these special little moments has taken on a new relevance. (It's not my memory that's going, it's just the retrieval mechanism that falters now and then.)  And oddly enough, these little moments can come more easily.  Sometimes almost unbidden, reminding me that I've been blessed.  Odd little moments, like - 

• digging a tunnel in the snow drifts of my childhood
• being asked to sing for a Halloween treat
• hunting for Easter eggs
• holding my baby sister for the first time
• winning an oratorical contest
• being elected to the prom court - yup, me!
• coming upon a tree laden with blue birds and years later, another laden with monarchs
• waking up from a tent in Alaska and seeing the top of Mt. McKinley, quickly covered by a layer of clouds
• my first piece of Godiva chocolate 
• the moment I met John
• the first time he said, "I love you"
• hugging a tree
• bursting into tears at the sight of the David
• stumbling, almost literally and certainly unexpectedly, on a relative in the Sicilian hometown of my grandparents
• flying in a helicopter down the face of a waterfall in Kauai
• holding my breath as a butterfly rested upon my hand
• the news that I was cancer free
• the news that John was cancer free

I keep a list of the most significant of these moments handy because it can be too easy to remember old hurts, or dwell on current aches and pains, or worry about future loss and decline. Far too easy.

* Does anyone recognize this quote, and it's author?

Worth Investigating

"Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at 20 or 80."

~ Henry Ford

There is a commercial for a local active retirement community that never fails to annoy me. It shows a young couple stumbling upon the development and asking an older couple of residents where they have landed.  The older couple, lean and sun tanned, he with a full head of gray hair and she looking like she could model for Chico's, shows them around... to the golf course, the restaurant, and the pool.  It ends with the younger man saying, "We have to figure out how to turn 55."

I realize that some would say I have no sense of humor, or that this is just creative license, par for the course in advertising.  But I think it is another example of promoting the "forever young" movement, a term coined by Daniel Klein in Travels with Epicurus, a movement whose favorite term seems to be anti-aging.  It is the polar opposite perception of old age promoted by those who also see this stage of life one dimensionally - but chiefly negatively. A stage marked by frailty, loss, and isolation.  Neither perception captures the full range of possibilites, as well as the challenges of aging available to us today.

Also, this commercial belies the vast array of activities available in that particular community, activities that are educational, creative, charitable  and social in nature.  Activities that address the complex needs and interests of an "active" retirement community or simply any older individual who wants to continue to learn and create, who has skills and expertise to share and the desire to do so.

The portrait of aging I prefer is painted more satisfyingly in three books I have read these past months.  Klein's Travels with Epicurus is the recounting of his journey to a Greek island to contemplate what the old men there can teach him about growing old.  Spurred on by the decision to forego the dental implants recommended by his dentist so that he would not have "the smile of an old man", Klein, an acknowledged old man, travels to the island equipped with his journal and his favorite philosophers to contemplate aging in a culture where aging is not only not feared, but enjoyed. Imagine that!  Well-written, insightful, humorous, a great gift for a favorite older man.

The Wonder of Aging, by Michael Gurian, bears the subtitle A New Approach to Embracing Life After Fifty.  It's filled with practical tips, solid science and inspirational and motivational stories.   I particularly appreciate the terms Gurian uses to define the stages of aging.  No old, old old and oldest old but rather The Age of Transformation, The Age of Distinction, and The Age of Completion, terms that describe the work to be done during that stage of one's life.  The research and the stories flesh out what Gurian means by his term "realistic optimism", the attitude he advocates for embracing life after fifty.

Finally, The Blue Zones:  Lessons for Living Longer from the People Who've Lived the Longest, by Dan Buettner.  Buettner shares the secrets of living longer (and well) from four of the world's Blue Zones - Sardinia, Italy; Okinawa, Japan; Loma Linda, California; and the Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica.  These areas have a higher density of centenarians due to common elements of lifestyle, diet, and outlook.  Buettner's science is easily accessible and the stories of the vibrant individuals he interviewed are fascinating.  He concludes the book by distilling his research (funded by National Geographic) into nine lessons with suggested strategies for incorporation into our Western lives.  I was relieved to see Lesson Four: Drink red wine (in moderation). Guess which zone taught him that!

I trust it's obvious that I enjoy learning and sharing what I'm learning.  If you are reading about aging and have found other valuable resources, I'd love to  know.  If the above books intrigue you, let me know.  If you have found some good websites (nextavenue.org and sixtyandme.com are two I like), well....

...and Holding On

"All the art of living lies in the fine mingling of letting go and holding on."

~Havelock Ellis

I've repeated this quote because I'm still pondering it, seeing evidence of its validity everywhere I turn. 

The most obvious has been in the constant assessing I find myself doing as I strive to simplify our home.  I've been on an organization and decluttering kick for the past five years, ever since we downsized from two homes to one.  I thought I had done a wonderful job (if I do say so myself) until my sister visited last fall and commented that even though we had a lot of 'stuff', it didn't look cluttered.  It took awhile to figure out why the comment, intended as a compliment, still unnerved me. I was organized, uncluttered, but, clearly, far from the simpler look and feel that I really wanted but hadn't acknowledged.

So, for the last couple months I been removing the next level of belongings with simpler as the new criteria - a criteria that has forced me to examine and reexamine more closely the underlying reasons for holding onto...anything and everything.  For me, and I suspect for others, it's not the object that I'm holding onto, but what it represents - a memory, a relationship, an image of myself, an aspiration, an achievement, a time and place, maybe a "what if" - perhaps more.  With this realization, the decisions of what to keep and what to release became much easier, even enjoyable.

The more valuable realization dawned on me, however, when I went to visit my 90 year-old friend the week before she was to move into independent living near her family in the Midwest.  As I drove up to the house she had lived in for 17 years, she was standing in her near empty garage giving the last donations to a crew of compassionate and caring men who have obviously done this before.  We walked into her near empty home.  And in that moment I could hear the inner voice...the reason.  I'm beginning to let go now while it is my choice, while I have a partner to help with the decisions, to take the stuff to donation and consignment.  Because I want to, not because I have to!

So...this is what I've come to...

• this fine mingling of letting go and holding on is an art each of us comes to in our own time, for our own reasons, in our own way
• that it is much easier when it is our choice
• that the tangibles are much easier than the memories, the regrets, the dreams and aspirations, the relationships that we are asked to let go along the way
• that letting go may be one of the biggest and most important challenges of the aging process

But for now, it's my clothes closet.

Letting Go

"All the art of living lies in the fine mingling of letting go and holding on."
~ Havelock Ellis 

I have had this title and quote ready for about a week now, considering what I wanted to share about the process I've been going through as I let go of possessions I once thought so important.  About how satisfying and mature it feels to let go - the shoes, the books, the incomplete projects, the attachments, the "just in case" stuff.  Although I also was embarrassed at how many rulers, scissors, candles, index cards, post-its, etc. we still had after all my previous attempts to declutter.  I also planned to include the names of a couple books that have been helpful in the process.

And, then, this week a lesson in letting go no book could adequately provide.  This past Tuesday afternoon, a beautiful spring day in southern Utah, a large group of acquaintances gathered on the patio of a local restaurant to celebrate a successful event held earlier in the day.  Drinks and appetizers added to the sense of conviviality. The festivities were well underway when she arrived, our eldest member.  The sweet, charming, and cherished 90 year-old who has been a joy and inspiration to so many.   She is interesting, curious, with a wonderful sense of humor.  Always impeccably dressed, beautifully coiffed, her white hair surrounding a constant smile.  In good health, intellectually, emotionally, and until very recently, physically.

She came on the arm of a good friend to say one final good-bye as recent health challenges have caused her to agree to move to an independent living facility near family in the mid-West.  As we embraced, I could see the pain and sadness in her eyes.  Trying to be of help, I said, "This must be so hard."  

"Oh, it is, but it's for the best, I guess." 

"I understand,"  I said.

"That's what everybody says.  I understand."

And we hugged and exchanged kisses and promised to stay in touch.  And I tried to tell her how much she has meant to me and how I will miss her.

But our conversation has niggled at me in the days and nights since.  For I believe now that I missed her point. I don't understand.  I don't know how many of us can.  She is being asked to let go of her home, her friends, her independence, her sense of competency, the environment and weather and activities she has known for decades.  And to do so gracefully.  All within a couple months. 

Why does this answer spring so easily?  Because it is easier to say than to admit that we are afraid our time will come to have to let go of so much?  So suddenly?  I don't understand.  Honestly, I hope I never have to.  So I am going to call, and apologize and tell her that I don't understand.  But I do care.  And I will miss her.  I will hold her in my heart and thoughts.

  

Caller, Beware

"Your choice is to be active or passive in your response,"
~  Deborah Day

I had intended to post something quite different this week, and then I got that telephone call, that very annoying call.  "Private caller" on my caller ID.  Area code I didn't recognize, but thought faintly familiar.  So, curious, I decided to answer it, half expecting that no one would be there.

"Hello, Angela.  This is Kevin from HP.  We are receiving warnings that your printer is sending some strange messages to your computer that will damage your hard drive if not corrected immediately.  So I need you to go to your computer so that I can help you fix this problem."  

All delivered in one breath and in an accent from the Philippines, or India, or Sri Lanka, or some nation where I doubt Kevin is a common name.

Assuming the most mature, civil tone of voice I could muster up, I responded, "Stop, please. I do not recognize this number as coming from HP and I will have my own computer support check to see if there is a problem, so thanks, but no thanks.  And I'm hanging up now. Good-bye."

A moment later, another call.  Same number.  Not prone to passivity, I answered it.  

"Hello, Angela.  We were cut off.  Let me explain...."

"No, Kevin, we weren't.  I hung up."

"But, Angela, if you will just listen to me."

Not as concerned with maturity or civility this time, I responded, "No, Kevin, the problem isn't that I won't listen to you.  It's that you haven't listened to me.  I don't want your help.  I don't believe you are calling from HP and if you call again, I will call my lawyer and issue a complaint of harassment."  

This time Kevin hung up and didn't even say good-bye!  He did not call a third time and  I rather suspect my number has been taken off his call list.

Now, I don't want to become passive, but I also don't want to become paranoiac, nor cynical, so I decided to run the call and my response past Austin, my computer support.

"No, Angela, your instincts weren't wrong.  You'd be surprised how many people have been scammed by calls like that or how much money they lose in the process.  These con men especially target seniors.  You did the right thing.  And you were smart to check in with us."

Why do they target us?  Because they think we're gullible or trust "authority" too easily?  Or don't know enough about technology (or the IRS, etc., etc.)?  Or are too passive or polite or weary to challenge them?  

Well, I derive some satisfaction in knowing "Kevin" won't think this senior gullible or passive or totally ignorant about computers!  Certainly not too polite.

My only regret is that I didn't capture "Kevin's" telephone number so I could find a way to report him and whomever he is working with/for.  I know that blocking such calls is an option.  I've researched the ways to do so and will be because there are other battles I am more invested in fighting.  But I do so reluctantly, because it only protects me, while doing little to put these predators out of business.

So, until such calls are blocked, or if any get through, I will answer and I will respond - actively.

Note:
 You can register your numbers on the national Do Not Call list by phone or on the Internet at no cost. To register via the Internet, go to www.donotcall.gov. To register by phone, call 1-888-382-1222 (voice) or 1-866-290-4236 (TTY). You must call from the phone number you wish to register.

I Remember...

"Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future."

~ Corrie Ten Boom

Get to know anyone over 60 or 65 and inevitably the topic of memory will arise.  Goodreads has a collection of 1816 Quotes about Memory.  I fret about it every time I can't recall a name or a word I know I know, forgot where I put something, or wonder why I came into a room.

So, when the following quiz arrived in an e-mail from my husband, I was intrigued and decided to take it (even if the title is a little off-putting).

Older Than Dirt Quiz

Instructions:  Count all the items you remember, not the ones you were told about.

1. Blackjack chewing gum
2. Wax coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water
3. Candy cigarettes
4. Soda pop machines that dispensed glass bottles
5. Coffee shops or dines with table side jukeboxes
6. Home milk delivery in glass bottles
7. Party lines on the telephone
8. Newsreels before the movie (instead of commercials!)
9. P.F. Flyers
10. Butch wax
11. TV test patterns that came on at night after the last show and remained until TV came on again in the morning...and there were usually only 3 channels
12. Peashooters
13. Howdy Doody
14. 45 RPM records
15. S & H Green Stamps
16. Hi-fi's
17. Metal ice cube trays with a lever
18. Mimeograph paper
19. Blue flashbulbs
20. Packards
21. Roller skate keys
22. Cork popguns
23. Studebakers
24. Drive-ins
25. Wash tub wringers

Scoring: If you remember 0-5, you're still young.  If you remember 6-10, you are getting older.  If you remember 11-15, don't tell your age.  And if you remember 16-25, you're "older than dirt."

Yes, I'm "older than dirt."  But this list got me thinking, and I've created my own version.  A list of other things I remember.  I remember...

• the iceman delivering blocks of ice for my grandmother's icebox
• scrubbing clothes on a washboard so that my mother wouldn't be embarrassed when she hung the clothes out to dry
• seeing gold stars hung in the windows of families who lost a child during World War II and wondering why a gold star
• pictures of Nazi death camps that surfaced when WWII ended
• school being cancelled in the fall because of a polio epidemic
• fights being settled with fists, not guns
• bullies whose names and faces were at least known to their victims
• having my desire to go to college questioned because I was "just going to get married and have kids"
• Joe McCarthy and HUAC and the Communist Threat...and ruined reputations and careers
• the courage of Edward R. Morrow who called for the outrage to stop
• bomb shelters and bomb drills
• Selma and listening to "I Have a Dream"
• the assassinations of the Kennedys, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X
• the Vietnam War, the protests, Kent State and the Chicago 7
• the wrenching apart of some families as they took sides over the war
• Watergate and Nixon's resignation
• Oklahoma City

I may get a bit nostalgic over memories of roller skate keys and drive-in movies and the pictures in my mind of simpler days, even feel a bit sad that life has become much more complex.   But, the consequences to future generations of not knowing about P.F. Flyers or Butch Wax or Studebakers is minuscule.  However, not knowing, or worse,  choosing to forget or deny the effects of violent dissension, not remembering how easily fear and anger become hatred that tears asunder families and communities, how quickly rumor and innuendo can become "truth", how hard fought the victories for social justice were - these, I believe, have consequence not just for the future, but most certainly today.

So, my list is not intended as a quiz.  There is no scoring to be done.  Rather, I ask how much do you remember?  How much have you passed on to others who don't know or may not understand why some of us who are "older than dirt" are growing more concerned with what we see taking shape in countries around the world, including our own.  For what if memories really are "the key not to the past, but to the future"?