Figuring Out My Life’s Work
As I watch my mother, who is almost totally blind and has mobility limitations, sit and do nothing all day, I ache, not just for her, but for everyone who doesn’t have something that gives her life meaning. Looking forward to my ever advancing age, I feel an urgency to have a life’s work that I can do at some level while I still have breath in my body. Deciding on one thing is driving me nuts! Consequently, I spend more time than I should doing crossword puzzles and reading.
While enjoying our deck time high in the Rocky Mountains, my sweetie and I have had this discussion. He says his life mission is to no harm and to always be open to new experiences. That’s fine, I say, but what are you actually doing? I volunteer long-distance while in Colorado and in person in St. Louis with the Red Cross, but somehow that doesn’t seem to be enough. I do volunteer writing and editing for a couple of organizations and look for people to mentor. Again, not enough.
Arianna Huffington said it best in her new book Thrive:
1. Make small gestures of kindness and giving a habit, and pay attention to how this affects your mind, your emotions, and your body.
2. During your day, make a personal connection with people you might normally tend to pass by and take for granted: the checkout clerk, the cleaning crew at your office or your hotel, the barista at the coffee shop. See how this helps you feel more alive and connected to the moment.
3. Use a skill or talent you have—cooking, accounting, decorating—to help someone who could benefit from it. It’ll jumpstart your transition from a go-getter to a go-giver, and reconnect you to the world and to the natural abundance in your own life.
By the way, I would heartily recommend this book. It teaches us how to be mindful in our lives so we experience every moment of every day of this oh, so brief existence.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Family Dynamics
A 105-year old vivacious lady once told me that the secret to having a happy aging was not being encumbered by family. Instead she cultivated male and female friends who were much younger than she was and found they kept her challenged and engaged.
Family certainly keeps us challenged in every sense of the word. My husband and I have a full life, sometimes too full with our part-time jobs, travel and friends, and then the family issues. My 90-year old parents, still living independently, are starting to struggle with health issues and the logistics of staying in their home. My sisters and I know that when they must move, it will be crisis management on our part, since my mother declares that the only way she is leaving her house is in an urn. We honor their independence, but find that better health care decisions could be made if they were more savvy and assertive with providers. That won’t happen, so we dance around issues to try to improve their care.
Our son and daughter-in-law have busy lives and keep our darling granddaughters way too scheduled to spend time with us, something that distresses us deeply.
Then there are the health scares and threats to our generation, especially my sisters, without whom I would be lost. Two of us have had cancer twice, and now a third may be battling something worse.
Herein lies the challenge of living well: being concerned but also paying attention to the joys that surround us and making sure we communicate that joy to those we care about. Although trite to say, this message bears repeating: we have but one life to live. Live it grandly and with joy. Don’t miss the daily gifts we are given while caring for those around us. And laugh. Laugh long and lustily. Joyous noise that is contagious.
Family certainly keeps us challenged in every sense of the word. My husband and I have a full life, sometimes too full with our part-time jobs, travel and friends, and then the family issues. My 90-year old parents, still living independently, are starting to struggle with health issues and the logistics of staying in their home. My sisters and I know that when they must move, it will be crisis management on our part, since my mother declares that the only way she is leaving her house is in an urn. We honor their independence, but find that better health care decisions could be made if they were more savvy and assertive with providers. That won’t happen, so we dance around issues to try to improve their care.
Our son and daughter-in-law have busy lives and keep our darling granddaughters way too scheduled to spend time with us, something that distresses us deeply.
Then there are the health scares and threats to our generation, especially my sisters, without whom I would be lost. Two of us have had cancer twice, and now a third may be battling something worse.
Herein lies the challenge of living well: being concerned but also paying attention to the joys that surround us and making sure we communicate that joy to those we care about. Although trite to say, this message bears repeating: we have but one life to live. Live it grandly and with joy. Don’t miss the daily gifts we are given while caring for those around us. And laugh. Laugh long and lustily. Joyous noise that is contagious.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
My Friend Diana
We are never ready to lose dear friends, but ready or not, we have to deal with it. One summer within the space of a month, I lost two close friends and the father of another dear friend. It must have seemed to my husband that I was forever opening my email and bursting into tears. Then things calmed down for a while, long enough to lull me into a false sense of security that the rest of my friends were safe, and so was I.
But I’m on the shady side of 65 heading on down that slippery slope to 70. And at this point, losing people starts to pick up. So this is a good time to give some thought to how I handle these occurrences, these holes left in my heart. I still have both my parents. At 88 and 90, they feel like they are slipping from my grasp. They will leave a huge hole in my heart as I become an orphan. I can’t even think about losing my darling husband, my adorable sisters or my precious kids.
Still, here I sit with the very raw loss of my best writing friend Diana, taken so quickly by an obscure but fast-moving cancer. She left two barely grown children, a mother, and a devoted husband, all of whom are still reeling at what happened and where they go from here. So, too, all her writing friends. Diana was bigger than life and a constant force for urging us to be better than we ever thought we could: better writers, better citizens, better protectors of nature, just better.
As Diana’s husband and kids have circled the wagons around their loss, Diana’s other friends have united to support her mother and each other as we deal with having to push ourselves to excel without Di here to do it. She leaves a large hole, yes, but more importantly, she leaves a legacy of her example of how to lead, embrace, and chronicle life. We are all the better for it and for the privilege of having held her hand as we discovered life from her perspective. Having had that teacher and treasure, we can share her lessons with those who remain in our lives. Thank you, Diana. We miss you, and we’ll take it from here.
But I’m on the shady side of 65 heading on down that slippery slope to 70. And at this point, losing people starts to pick up. So this is a good time to give some thought to how I handle these occurrences, these holes left in my heart. I still have both my parents. At 88 and 90, they feel like they are slipping from my grasp. They will leave a huge hole in my heart as I become an orphan. I can’t even think about losing my darling husband, my adorable sisters or my precious kids.
Still, here I sit with the very raw loss of my best writing friend Diana, taken so quickly by an obscure but fast-moving cancer. She left two barely grown children, a mother, and a devoted husband, all of whom are still reeling at what happened and where they go from here. So, too, all her writing friends. Diana was bigger than life and a constant force for urging us to be better than we ever thought we could: better writers, better citizens, better protectors of nature, just better.
As Diana’s husband and kids have circled the wagons around their loss, Diana’s other friends have united to support her mother and each other as we deal with having to push ourselves to excel without Di here to do it. She leaves a large hole, yes, but more importantly, she leaves a legacy of her example of how to lead, embrace, and chronicle life. We are all the better for it and for the privilege of having held her hand as we discovered life from her perspective. Having had that teacher and treasure, we can share her lessons with those who remain in our lives. Thank you, Diana. We miss you, and we’ll take it from here.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Keeping the Knowledge Alive
I recently came back from visiting my parents: dad age 90 and Mom, 88. My dad does a lot of writing, but my mom with her macular degeneration and a prior stroke is almost blind. She feels she has nothing to live for because she can’t do anything she used to do. She needed something to feel good about, so I started a memoir for her. The only rule was that we had to focus on stories of her life that were not part of her intense anger at her family.
She started talking about life on the farm growing up. These stories will be of interest to my granddaughters now, and certainly later when my parents are gone. My parents did a book for their daughters about their lives that my mom typed and made bound copies for their four daughters in 1993, but many of the stories Mom came up with over the last week weren’t in there, so my project is to take what she did then and add these great remembrances.
On an earlier visit, I took her letters she had written her best friend years ago, especially when we were living in Mexico. Her friend was moving into assisted living and her daughter, my oldest friend, asked me if I would like these letters. Of course I would! As I read them to Mom, I learned so much about what my mom grappled with living in a foreign country and raising three daughters, running a home and keeping everything going while my father traveled extensively. My memories are from my teenage years, a much different perspective than my mom’s.
With the world changing so fast, the environment and tools we grew up with will be alien to our grandchildren and great-grandchildren, so we could keep the knowledge and appreciation of earlier times going by writing this stuff down, about our parents, and about ourselves, since we aren’t exactly spring chickens.
It’s also a great way to have a meaningful conversation with older loved ones, even siblings. It celebrates and validates their lives. We all want that.
She started talking about life on the farm growing up. These stories will be of interest to my granddaughters now, and certainly later when my parents are gone. My parents did a book for their daughters about their lives that my mom typed and made bound copies for their four daughters in 1993, but many of the stories Mom came up with over the last week weren’t in there, so my project is to take what she did then and add these great remembrances.
On an earlier visit, I took her letters she had written her best friend years ago, especially when we were living in Mexico. Her friend was moving into assisted living and her daughter, my oldest friend, asked me if I would like these letters. Of course I would! As I read them to Mom, I learned so much about what my mom grappled with living in a foreign country and raising three daughters, running a home and keeping everything going while my father traveled extensively. My memories are from my teenage years, a much different perspective than my mom’s.
With the world changing so fast, the environment and tools we grew up with will be alien to our grandchildren and great-grandchildren, so we could keep the knowledge and appreciation of earlier times going by writing this stuff down, about our parents, and about ourselves, since we aren’t exactly spring chickens.
It’s also a great way to have a meaningful conversation with older loved ones, even siblings. It celebrates and validates their lives. We all want that.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Another High Point for Seasoned Citizens: New Year’s Eve in Times Square
Now why, you ask, would a 70-ish couple want to spend hours out in the cold, celebrating an event that comes predictably every year with 1,000,000+ of their close, very close, but not-so-personal friends? The average age of Times Square revelers is probably 22.
So why do it and maybe scare ourselves silly in the process? Because we could, and it was a stretch and, yes, a little scary. That’s the point. As we get to this age, there is a huge tendency to circle the wagons and play it safe. Not a good idea. If we don’t continue to grow intellectually, emotionally, and in competency, we shrink. There is no standing still.
Still, we all have to pick our challenges to match our interests and physical limitations. Times Square has some physical and psychological requirements that are significant.
1. Structurally: You have to be able to walk several miles and stand in essentially the same spot for up to 8 or 9 hours. I hopped a lot and did some deep knee bends when rigor mortis started setting in.
2. Cold: We’re talking New York City on the last night of the year. It can be snowing, sleeting, or just bitterly cold. Bring more layers than you think you need. Wear mittens: they keep your hands warmer and you can drop hand-warmer packs into them. Ours kept our hands moderately warm for 7 hours. Toe warmers stick to the bottom of your socks to warm your feet. That helped, too.
3. Bathrooms: We have to be frank here. Essentially, there are none. If your bladder can’t hold its own for 8 hours, you may have to rethink—or make provisions to help it. I thought this over carefully and came up with a plan. After my breakfast cup of coffee, I cut off all fluids for the rest of the day. And for the first time in my life, I wore Depends—just in case that wasn’t enough. Luckily, cutting off the fluids worked, but it’s always good to have a back-up. And I found out that anti-leaking undergarments are quite comfortable—for future reference.
4. Escape routes: In Times Square after about 3 PM, the police cut off most of the access roads and pedestrians are funneled through densely populated check-points, where you will be wanded and cleared to enter a cordoned-off viewing area with big metal barricades. The only way out, once packed in like cattle, is by climbing over the barricade, so you have to decide to either stay or that you are physically able to climb up and over. Once out, however, you will not be allowed back in.
5. Back to the packed in like cattle: If you have even a touch of claustrophobia, don’t do it. There are times when you are packed so tightly together with strangers of different sizes that you can’t even raise or lower your arms. You are totally pinned. My sweetie and I held on to each other through those areas with iron grips to keep from getting separated. I wanted him there at midnight. I came for the kiss!
So why would anyone want to do this? I can only answer why we did it. Several reasons:
• It was our 45th wedding anniversary and we wanted it to be bizarre.
• We had seen the ball drop on TV for so many years; we just wanted to see it happen live for once.
• Our kids blew off our offer of an all-expense paid Disney cruise and park vacation, and this was plan B.
• I was curious to see who else would be crazy enough to do this. I met people from France, Germany, Mexico, Dubai, Croatia and about 14 states. Of course, they were all under 30. New York City-ites wouldn’t be caught dead there.
So we did it, first counting down the hours and finally the minutes. We saw the crystal ball drop, saw the 2014 numbers light up amid fireworks, and kissed each other like we had another 45 years in us.
Then we slogged through the crowd for umpteen blocks back to our hotel, toasted each other with champagne and crashed! Next year, we’re thinking of New Year’s Eve in Red Square in Moscow. It didn’t look as crowded.
So why do it and maybe scare ourselves silly in the process? Because we could, and it was a stretch and, yes, a little scary. That’s the point. As we get to this age, there is a huge tendency to circle the wagons and play it safe. Not a good idea. If we don’t continue to grow intellectually, emotionally, and in competency, we shrink. There is no standing still.
Still, we all have to pick our challenges to match our interests and physical limitations. Times Square has some physical and psychological requirements that are significant.
1. Structurally: You have to be able to walk several miles and stand in essentially the same spot for up to 8 or 9 hours. I hopped a lot and did some deep knee bends when rigor mortis started setting in.
2. Cold: We’re talking New York City on the last night of the year. It can be snowing, sleeting, or just bitterly cold. Bring more layers than you think you need. Wear mittens: they keep your hands warmer and you can drop hand-warmer packs into them. Ours kept our hands moderately warm for 7 hours. Toe warmers stick to the bottom of your socks to warm your feet. That helped, too.
3. Bathrooms: We have to be frank here. Essentially, there are none. If your bladder can’t hold its own for 8 hours, you may have to rethink—or make provisions to help it. I thought this over carefully and came up with a plan. After my breakfast cup of coffee, I cut off all fluids for the rest of the day. And for the first time in my life, I wore Depends—just in case that wasn’t enough. Luckily, cutting off the fluids worked, but it’s always good to have a back-up. And I found out that anti-leaking undergarments are quite comfortable—for future reference.
4. Escape routes: In Times Square after about 3 PM, the police cut off most of the access roads and pedestrians are funneled through densely populated check-points, where you will be wanded and cleared to enter a cordoned-off viewing area with big metal barricades. The only way out, once packed in like cattle, is by climbing over the barricade, so you have to decide to either stay or that you are physically able to climb up and over. Once out, however, you will not be allowed back in.
5. Back to the packed in like cattle: If you have even a touch of claustrophobia, don’t do it. There are times when you are packed so tightly together with strangers of different sizes that you can’t even raise or lower your arms. You are totally pinned. My sweetie and I held on to each other through those areas with iron grips to keep from getting separated. I wanted him there at midnight. I came for the kiss!
So why would anyone want to do this? I can only answer why we did it. Several reasons:
• It was our 45th wedding anniversary and we wanted it to be bizarre.
• We had seen the ball drop on TV for so many years; we just wanted to see it happen live for once.
• Our kids blew off our offer of an all-expense paid Disney cruise and park vacation, and this was plan B.
• I was curious to see who else would be crazy enough to do this. I met people from France, Germany, Mexico, Dubai, Croatia and about 14 states. Of course, they were all under 30. New York City-ites wouldn’t be caught dead there.
So we did it, first counting down the hours and finally the minutes. We saw the crystal ball drop, saw the 2014 numbers light up amid fireworks, and kissed each other like we had another 45 years in us.
Then we slogged through the crowd for umpteen blocks back to our hotel, toasted each other with champagne and crashed! Next year, we’re thinking of New Year’s Eve in Red Square in Moscow. It didn’t look as crowded.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Seasoned Citizens Unite!
Every once in a while, something sticks in our brains, besides nutty old songs or trying to remember someone’s name. My aha! moment came out of a class I do, called “Aging with Pizzazz,” that started out meaning aging ‘with health and humor’. I’ve since broaded that definition of pizzazz to be aging with passion. Pizzazz passion drives us to take care of ourselves physically so we have the stamina to follow our dreams, mentally to stay sharp and challenged, ethically to live an honest life; but most importantly, to age with the passion to energize and empower other people around us, and leave this world a better place than we found it.
We all have issues about which we feel passionate. After all, we live in a pretty complex and scary world. After visiting remote tribes living on atolls that are three inches above sea level, and seeing the ice melt away from Kilimanjaro and breaking ice floes in Antarctica, I’ve returned home passionate about combating global warming. I’m thinking about forming a new group: Grannies Against Global Warming, but I’m not sure the acronym would work: GAGWA?
And while I very much care about this issue, my epiphany involves a greater cause: that of harnessing the activist power of 120+ million “seasoned citizens” to combat a multitude of issues. It makes all the sense in the world:
• We certainly have opinions! (Just ask our kids)
• We care what kind of world we are leaving our grandchildren.
• We have years of education and experience to bring to the table.
• We have the time to get involved.
• We have numbers! There are 76 million Baby Boomers and another 45 million of us between 61 and 90. That’s over 120 million experienced people who can make change happen.
• We want to focus beyond all the aches and pains that come with age.
• It’s a great way to embarrass our children and our grandchildren.
• There is a problem needing a solution to fit every one of us, and the world needs us -now!
So—May I convince you to give activism a try? Activism, not such a scary word, simply means finding a cause about which you feel strongly and taking some kind of positive action. Activism can take many forms. We can get involved with grassroots organizations already fighting for what we believe in, or we can engage in what I call: “single-handed feats of activism”:
• Resolving to be kind and validate every person we have contact with every day
• Tutoring a child (our world’s next great leader?)
• Raising money for cancer research
• Helping out at an animal shelter
• Working at a food pantry
• Writing a letter to an editor
• Pulling lonely people into a support network
• Being fully engaged in seeking positive solutions to tough problems.
We can be a force in this youth-oriented culture, and return to our activist roots. It starts by finding and channeling our passions into something that helps other people and our planet. It starts by letting our pizzazz shine, one person at a time. Seasoned citizens: our time is now!
We all have issues about which we feel passionate. After all, we live in a pretty complex and scary world. After visiting remote tribes living on atolls that are three inches above sea level, and seeing the ice melt away from Kilimanjaro and breaking ice floes in Antarctica, I’ve returned home passionate about combating global warming. I’m thinking about forming a new group: Grannies Against Global Warming, but I’m not sure the acronym would work: GAGWA?
And while I very much care about this issue, my epiphany involves a greater cause: that of harnessing the activist power of 120+ million “seasoned citizens” to combat a multitude of issues. It makes all the sense in the world:
• We certainly have opinions! (Just ask our kids)
• We care what kind of world we are leaving our grandchildren.
• We have years of education and experience to bring to the table.
• We have the time to get involved.
• We have numbers! There are 76 million Baby Boomers and another 45 million of us between 61 and 90. That’s over 120 million experienced people who can make change happen.
• We want to focus beyond all the aches and pains that come with age.
• It’s a great way to embarrass our children and our grandchildren.
• There is a problem needing a solution to fit every one of us, and the world needs us -now!
So—May I convince you to give activism a try? Activism, not such a scary word, simply means finding a cause about which you feel strongly and taking some kind of positive action. Activism can take many forms. We can get involved with grassroots organizations already fighting for what we believe in, or we can engage in what I call: “single-handed feats of activism”:
• Resolving to be kind and validate every person we have contact with every day
• Tutoring a child (our world’s next great leader?)
• Raising money for cancer research
• Helping out at an animal shelter
• Working at a food pantry
• Writing a letter to an editor
• Pulling lonely people into a support network
• Being fully engaged in seeking positive solutions to tough problems.
We can be a force in this youth-oriented culture, and return to our activist roots. It starts by finding and channeling our passions into something that helps other people and our planet. It starts by letting our pizzazz shine, one person at a time. Seasoned citizens: our time is now!
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Cataractical Chaos
Aaauuggh! How could something so relatively straightforward, medically speaking, be so logistically confounding? I’m talking about having cataract surgery. Even as a nurse, I find the process daunting, so I know other people are challenged.
Oh! I forgot to mention I also have glaucoma, so I’m on two different eye drops because one didn’t reduce my pressure enough. I’m a really healthy person, but apparently a good lifestyle and prevention only go so far. Because I have glaucoma and cataracts!
So my glaucoma regimen is one drop in each eye twice a day and one drop once a day. I do the twice a day in the morning before I get up. No prob. The once and twice a day are done at night, but have to be administered at least five minutes apart, so I put in one drop, rest for a couple of minutes, then go wash my face, brush my teeth, etc., go back to bed and put in the second one. Mission accomplished.
So here comes cataract surgery and THREE more kinds of drops, but just for the eye being operated on. One of them is four times a day, and the other two, three times a day. Again, at least five minutes apart. When I outline the regimen I’ve figured out, my husband just rolls his eyes and says he hopes he never has cataracts.
One reason he says that is because my machinations will affect him and his ability to get fed or to sleep at night. AND---once this process calms down, we start over with THE OTHER EYE. So here goes:
Before rising: glaucoma twice-a-day drop both eyes
Breakfast time: drop (5 minutes) drop (5 minutes) drop. Then get up and fix breakfast
Lunch: drop (5 minutes) drop (5 minutes) drop. Then get up and do whatever
Dinner: drop (5 minutes) drop (5 minutes) drop. Then get up and make dinner, after a stiff drink!
Bedtime: drop (one eye) (5 minutes) drop both eyes (5 minutes) drop both eyes, bed!
The three extra ones start a couple days before surgery and then go for one-to-two weeks after, encompassing travel and time-zone changes. I know this isn’t serious, just something akin to a Keystone Kops routine. I am truly blessed with good health. It was just too funny not to write about!
Oh! I forgot to mention I also have glaucoma, so I’m on two different eye drops because one didn’t reduce my pressure enough. I’m a really healthy person, but apparently a good lifestyle and prevention only go so far. Because I have glaucoma and cataracts!
So my glaucoma regimen is one drop in each eye twice a day and one drop once a day. I do the twice a day in the morning before I get up. No prob. The once and twice a day are done at night, but have to be administered at least five minutes apart, so I put in one drop, rest for a couple of minutes, then go wash my face, brush my teeth, etc., go back to bed and put in the second one. Mission accomplished.
So here comes cataract surgery and THREE more kinds of drops, but just for the eye being operated on. One of them is four times a day, and the other two, three times a day. Again, at least five minutes apart. When I outline the regimen I’ve figured out, my husband just rolls his eyes and says he hopes he never has cataracts.
One reason he says that is because my machinations will affect him and his ability to get fed or to sleep at night. AND---once this process calms down, we start over with THE OTHER EYE. So here goes:
Before rising: glaucoma twice-a-day drop both eyes
Breakfast time: drop (5 minutes) drop (5 minutes) drop. Then get up and fix breakfast
Lunch: drop (5 minutes) drop (5 minutes) drop. Then get up and do whatever
Dinner: drop (5 minutes) drop (5 minutes) drop. Then get up and make dinner, after a stiff drink!
Bedtime: drop (one eye) (5 minutes) drop both eyes (5 minutes) drop both eyes, bed!
The three extra ones start a couple days before surgery and then go for one-to-two weeks after, encompassing travel and time-zone changes. I know this isn’t serious, just something akin to a Keystone Kops routine. I am truly blessed with good health. It was just too funny not to write about!
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