That's What Friends Are For

Having just reread my last post, I wish I had concluded it with this cartoon - 

For younger readers, this is Joe Btfsplk, Al Capp's little carrier of doom and gloom, an inhabitant of Li'l Abner's town of Dogpatch.  I see him at the periphery of my vision whenever I feel the degree of dismay I was expressing some nine days ago.  Fortunately, he doesn't visit me very often, and fortunately, he has returned home.

What's changed?  Not much out there in the world, sad to say.  In fact, there's been more stories of terrorist attacks, more non-sense, continued murder and mayhem, vile and bile, even in this short period.  What has changed, however, are my mood and morale in spite of it all - thanks to some help from my friends.

Friends take many forms and I've been blessed to be visited by a few this past week.  There are the old friends, one that I've cherished for over 40 years and another for almost 30.  The old and tried relationships that have been there through divorce and illness, the passing of parents, the challenges with children.  The friends with whom I can pick up a conversation after a gap of months, even years, and it's as comfortable and comforting as though we just had a slumber party.  The friends who remind me that I have overcome obstacles and crisis and am stronger and more resilient than I may think I am.  The friends who called just to check in and who listen through filters of shared history and memories and values.

There are the new friends, friends who seem to enjoy and value who I am today, wrinkles and warts and all.  One who, by sending a book with a slightly sacrilegious and wholly hilarious inscription , brought a belly laugh in spite of my mood.  One who shared a morning with bright and eager eighth grade girls, reminding us both that opportunities are so much better for them than they were for us at their age...progress!   Or another, who listening to my litany of dismay reminded me to return to what I know works for me - turn off the news, watch something pleasant and uplifting, read a good book, look and listen for the positive, focus on what I can control, remember to be grateful.

And the three I cherish most - my husband who accepts me just as I am, cheerful, anxious, upset, remote, frustrated, angry - room for it all, without a shred of judgment or criticism.  My 'baby' sister who has become close friend and trusted confidante over gaps of distance and age and circumstances, and my brother who knows better than anyone alive today why I am so committed to being optimistic, especially when it is challenging to do so.  Each was there this week.  Each listened and each cared.

I'd like to think I have long appreciated the importance of friendship, been grateful for the men and women I am blessed to call friends, but this week has added a new depth of understanding.  Friends, old and new may never be as important as in these last years of our lives, when the impersonal insecurities of a changing, tense and frightening world intersect with our personal physical and emotional challenges.  

So, I have declared a recess from the news.  I have been watching musicals and reruns of The Golden Girls and Murder She Wrote.  I'm reading a good book, focusing on what I can control - and being grateful for good friends.

Food for Thought

"Five percent of the people think; ten percent of the people think they think; and the other eighty-five percent would rather die than think."

~Thomas Edison

"Thinking is the hardest work there is which is probably why so few engage in it."

~Henry Ford

I've sat down to create this post a few times over the past couple weeks, sometimes just staring at the screen unable to focus my turbulent thinking, other times ending up by deleting what I had just composed.  Troubled because although I could well  be in the ten percent of people that Edison designated, I know I am not in the eighty-five percent.  I am willing to do the hard work.  I value critical and creative thinking.  I work to understand my own thinking, as well as that of others.  I struggle when I can't.

Why have I struggled?   Because, over and above the obvious craziness of the Orlando horror, the circus of this year's political campaigning and now Brexit,  I am on the verge of despair.   Not only because of the lack of cooperative, responsible thinking but what appears to be the downright refusal to do so.  It's not just the oversimplification of complex issues or rampant generalizations.  Or the name calling and innuendo, the righteous polarization.  Or the casting about for blame rather than determining responsibility.  Or even the out and out lies.

• It's hearing a neighbor say he can't understand why so much air time was given just because a  bunch of "queers" got killed.  Or the  pastor who said he was only sorry that more of these "pedophiles" weren't killed.  Or another pastor who called the murders God's retribution.

• It's the Governor of Florida saying that Isis is responsible for the murders, not the killer with a semi-automatic.  (Now Isis doesn't have to claim responsibility, our politicians will do it for them.)

• It's our seeming inability to consider it could be an act of terror AND a hate crime.

• Or that compromise in any way could be a win.

•  It's the refusal to let a bill come before the House of Representatives even when it's obvious it would have been voted down.

• It's the outright refusal to answer a question, not just to sidestep it.  And the reluctance or inability of too many interviewers to drive for anything more.

• It's panel members who shout at each other, talk over each other, make snide comments, demand a respect for their point of view that they do not give others' opinions.  

• It's the TV ad calling for telephone calls to assure that Donald Trump is not denied the presidency...not the nomination, but the presidency.  And I thought the election was to take place in November!

• It's the feeding, the fueling of fear, anger, distrust, hatred, no matter the consequences.

• It's the labeling of anything remotely moderate or tempered as weak or stupid, ill-informed, elitist - anything that will serve to diminish it.

And then, this morning a moment of clarity - during one of the Sunday morning political shows, the topic of fact checking came up in response to claims made by the major candidates.  One of the panel simply dismissed fact finding as an example of journalistic elitism and followed his assertion with the statement that the American People don't care about facts!  End of the conversation.  One man blithely declaring he speaks for the American People (all 300+ million of us) and asserting that we are not interested in the facts, - or, as challenged by another panelist, care about hearing the truth.  Not only a refusal to think anything other than what someone tells them to believe, but a devaluing of those who even suggest that they do.

Less confusion, yes.  Less dismay, no.

I know fear and hatred are not new.  I know partisanship and polarization are not new.  I have been voting since the 60's after all.  But the issues are so much more complex today and the sheer mass of humanity so much greater.  The consequences of the demagoguery that is sprouting up around the world could be devastating.  We should be thinking more not less.  We should be thinking together.

Less confusion, yes.  Less dismay, no.

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.