Old?! Not Me!

There are those who say living with young people, will keep you young. There are also those who say, the earth is flat or that real butter will kill you. Obviously, they don’t know what they are talking about.

I’ve also heard it said that living with young people will age you before your time. Bah-loney!  -------- only if you allow it to.

I live with a forty-ish daughter and a 15 year old grandson. Or they live with me, depending on how one looks at it. I guess it is safest to say that we just live together. They spoil me outrageously, which I encourage, and I do pay a greater percentage of the costs.

When I was 62 years old, my husband died from bone cancer. I lived alone for nine years. I got along pretty well after the initial adjustment, but as time went on, I began looking for other arrangements. I simply didn’t need a big, five bedroom house, large swimming pool, and lawns that I kept manicured. I looked for a two or three bedroom condo, in the same general area of Augusta where I lived, near friends and my niece and her family.

At about that same time, Dee adopted a little girl, from Russia.. Long story/short, we decided I would sell my home in Augusta and Dee would sell her nice condo, here in Atlanta, and we’d buy a house together, here. That’s what we did. Then Dee adopted a ten year old boy from Kazakhstan; her daughter grew up and left home; and here we are.

Getting old is not all bad, I’ve learned. What one has to remember is that it is perfectly OK to accept a little help, now and then. My daughter takes exquisite care of me, as she should. But that’s the kind of family we are. When the shoe was on the other foot, I did the same for her. When she was living alone, a few years ago, she had wisdom teeth pulled. Her brother, my son, drove all the way from Columbia, S.C. to be with her and he is a pretty good nurse.

One way that I give my kids full credit for helping me age more slowly mentally is through making me accept electronics.

While still living in Augusta, Bruce and Dee asked if I would like to have a computer. I said, absolutely not, no way. They ignored me.

My son arrived a few days later with a computer and - this is important - he said if I broke it, he’d fix it – “So just go ahead and give it a try, Mom!”

I did the computer a go, and even took a course up at Augusta State that was incredibly boring. I have a good time with my computer; stay in touch with 30-40 folks, depending on the season or who is on vacation. I research all kinds of people and everything else that interests me. When I can’t sleep, I often get on the computer for a little while until I get sleepy again.

Three close friends got computers about the same time I did. Not one of them enjoyed them or even learned to use them easily. I attribute that partly to the locations (they put them in back bedrooms, upstairs etc.) My first computer was placed on my desk, in my kitchen, along with my phone and small TV. I could check messages while the chicken was frying and answer the phone at the same time. (I have about the same set up here, in my bedroom.) All three of my friends got rid of their computers. Two woman became alcoholics before they died, and the third is depressed because she says no one pays any attention to her. A fourth, close friend died this past year also but she stayed active until nearly the end. Interestingly, all four long time friends were 83 yrs old last year, and they were all widows.

Last fall, Dee asked if I’d like to have a Kindle. I read all the time. Of course I said no because I love books and the feel of them in my hands. She ignored me. So I received a Kindle for Christmas and I am loving it. Have more to learn but have read two books so far and have about eight more loaded and ready. Mike is my “go to” person on the Kindle, and actually gets me out of trouble on the computer as well. I do have a cell phone for any emergency, but normally just use the house phone which is portable. Presently I have no need for all the other gadgets.

You know that thing about being only as old as you feel? That’s a bunch of whale poop! Actually, you’re only as old as you feel mentally!  Physically, I feel about sixty-five , oooh maybe one or two hours per week. Other times, I’d say, somewhere between 78 and 95 ! My health is not perfect but problems are being controlled and I’m not complaining… (most of the time) 

You know, I have a theory that other folks can tolerate a little grunting and groaning, once in a while. But a person who feels sorry for herself is a royal pain in the ass!  When one is old, all the same rules we were taught as kids still apply. Kindness and reaching out to others still matter.

On my own, I decided to stop driving. I’ve never had even a fender bender or any kind of ticket. I am a good driver and, even my husband said I was a good driver. I used to enjoy driving my old Caddie and, later, my brand spanking new blue Toyota Highlander. The problem is that I have arthritis in my shoulders and knees. I’d grown uneasy that my response time, in case of even a small emergency, would be too slow. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt someone because I was too proud to stop driving.

Interestingly, Dee’s car died at about the same time so she now drives mine.

I enjoy doing crossword puzzles but seem to lack the time at present. I had written a dictionary, two volumes, but they got misplaced when I moved here. The title was, Words I can Never Think Of or Spell……  kind of tongue in cheek.

So that’s my take on aging and living an active life. Dee always says “Mom is sharp as a tack!” and she’s right. I am also never bored. Next time you hear of a senior who is depressed and/or bored with life, get them a computer or a Kindle, and show them how to use it! 

I'm Thankful For...

Anyone who knows me even a little bit, knows how thankful I am for my precious family. Goodness knows, I write about all of them often enough. But recently, I’ve thought about other things for which I’m thankful.

BLUE. I am thankful for blue in all its tints and shades except pale, baby, blue. Yes, I’ve known people who are seemingly unaffected by colors . In my own mind, I think of those folks as, well, space taker uppers. 

 Then, there are the beige people. These come in two kinds. There are the ones who paint everything in their homes beige. They have beige furniture, beige floors, and beige on their windows. When I encounter one of the former, I assume they have either just bought their home or are fixing to sell it. You know, don’t want to offend anyone if money is involved, especially theirs.

The other beige people are fairly easy to spot if you just pay attention. They are usually attractive, blonde, kind of blonde, kind of thin, mostly female, and kind of rich. You don’t see many poor folks decked out in beautifully coordinated beige outfits. If you see a beige street person, think dirt.

MUSIC. So thankful for music. Now, I am speaking of real music, not so much just classical because some of it is awful, to my ear. No, I mean music with nice melodies that one can hum or sing. I know very little about music that became popular in the most recent years. I simply cannot understand grown women who think singers who sound like ten year old boys, with whiney voices, are sexy. Yes, I love to hear normal kids sing, but I do not want a man to sing like he has been neutered. Then others sound like it has been slammed in a dresser drawer, if you know what I mean.

Some of our older, so called, country music is the closest thing we have to American Folk Music. I’ve heard the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing some of the old songs, and they were lovely. The same goes for our patriotic music. I think children should be taught the words to the Star Spangled Banner and NO person should be elected to office unless they know those lyrics. When I was growing up and when I taught, we sang it every morning and said the pledge. We also read one of the Psalms and said The Lord’s Prayer. I’m not talking about just one school but, several – in two different states.

The South.  I am not only thankful to be an American, I’m extremely thankful to be a Southerner.  Yes, I could write a book about this but there is no need. As the saying goes, few people retire to the north or other parts of this country. Yes, it gets hot in the summer but my husband would have told you that the worst heat he ever encountered was in Chicago, one summer when he was taking yet another graduate course. The following year, he switched to Batan Rouge, Louisiana and got along fine.

However, the South is about lots more than the weather or its beauty. My dad was a good example of a true southerner. He had lived in or traveled to most parts of this country. He was strong in every way, even tough when he needed to be. Not only was he very intelligent, he was a gentle person who showed respect for others. Actually, that pretty much describes the other men in my immediate family and my husband.

Coffee and Sweet Tea.  Oh my, just love both of them, especially when they are good and strong. My dad did not allow us to drink coffee until we were about grown but we drank sweet tea all our lives. I do have to say that Mother’s sweet tea was almost always sweetened with artificial sweetner, not sugar, and lots of fruit juice. I used to always travel with a small container of instant coffee in my cosmetic bag. No, I don’t especially like instant coffee but it is better than no coffee. Now days, I am thankful for Starbucks, robust blend or whatever they call it.

Dogs.  I just love dogs. When Tony asked me to marry him, I told him I wanted at least four kids and I had no intention of living my life without a dog. If he couldn’t handle that, there were lots of tall, skinny, cat loving girls, just the opposite of me. Our Yorkie-Poo Coco is the first tiny dog we’ve owned. We’ve tended more toward Labs, German Shepherds, and hounds. I truly feel they have enriched my life.

FOODS: Coke, Chocolate, and Pecans. They just brighten any day, so thank you, Lord. Guess I could have added homemade hot biscuits but I have to stop somewhere.

A Warm and Crazy Guy

Being married to the same guy for forty years could, I suppose, have been dull, but I never had that problem. Tony could be a real pain in the ass, but he was never a bore.

Tony thoroughly enjoyed his TV and I have to say that I enjoyed  lots of movies, watched on our old TV set. In fact, one Mother’s Day about twenty years ago, Tony ordered all the big musicals available to buy at that time. We watched those over and over. Some we’d originally seen in New York. He loved ‘Oklahoma’ and ‘Hello Dolly’ and could sing all the lyrics to “Poor Jud Is Dead.” Hello Dolly was another huge favorite. He thought the lyrics to “It  Takes A Woman”  ( “…to clean out the drains in the sink..” etc) were hilarious.

When Tony liked a song, he immediately learned all the lyrics --- or, even funnier, just made some up to suit himself. "Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine" Tom T. Hall’s great song, was a prime favorite. Knowing that he and his wife raised and loved Basset Hounds endeared him to Tony as well. Our little family has a fondness for the hounds – and I might add, Black Labs. Of course now we absolutely adore our tiny Yorky Poo, Coco, our very first very small dog but, alas, Tony died before I got Coco.

For the last twelve years we lived in Tennessee, Tony had to drive twenty-two miles, one way, into Knoxville, to the bank. He listened to country music on his car radio and got a big kick out of it. Another song Tony nearly ran me crazy singing was, "Old Hippie". You know, I’m just an old hippie, etc etc. He made up his own words to that one so I never knew which words were the real ones.

What made that song doubly funny was that Tony was about the direct opposite of a hippy. He was a successful banker and he wore nice, dark suits, white starched shirts, black shoes and socks, - but his ties often had a little color. I bought all his ties. ;0) The concept of “business casual” would never have happened when he was the boss. When he noticed one of his young officers wearing white socks, one morning, Tony handed the man a five dollar bill and sent him down the street to purchase a ”decent” pair of socks.

It took me years to get Tony to accept the fact that casual clothes could be really nice. On week ends, he looked like an ol’ timey garbage collector, especially if he was working in the yard. One of his favorite stories was that he was doing some work in our front yard when a kind of prissy lady, in a big car, stopped, and motioned him over. “Young man, what do you charge for doing yard work?  Waal, I don’ rightly know, M’am.  The lady whut lives here jest lets me sleep with her.”  Looking horrified, the woman sped off. No, it was not true. He read it in Readers’ Digest or somewhere.

His favorite pair of jeans looked so awful that one day, I hid them. When he came in from work, he came back to the kitchen where I was cooking dinner and asked where his “good” jeans were. I never looked up. I said they have gone BY-BY. He never mentioned them again, so they really did go into the garbage the next day.

There’s an old John Wayne movie, where all the cavalry is lined up ready to go, when the bugle player plays the charge. Off they rush into battle. Tony took a tape recorder and recorded the bugle and the cries of “CHARGE!” At about two minutes until five, one afternoon at the bank, he put that on the PA System.  So at exactly five o’clock, all the officers and employees heard the cries of charge and the bugle and horses’ hoofs as they rushed out of the bank. I seem to remember that our Chairman of the Board was not thrilled….. no sense of humor.

Oh, yeah, I’d really like to see the angels lined up waiting for Tony to enter heaven, to the sounds of the charge and the bugle. Maybe the Duke was there waiting too.

We Have Nothing to Fear...

What are you afraid of?  Everything? Nothing? I’d love to know. I’m not talking about major happenings - not war, famine, storms, nor the end of chocolate as we know it.

 I well remember my dad calmly saying there is nothing to be afraid of—and my thinking, if I was as big as you, I wouldn’t be afraid of anything either. On the other hand, my mother was a chubby petite and one of the bravest women I ever knew. Of course, her bravery was sometimes augmented by the small shotgun she often had close around. She didn’t miss what she aimed at, either.

 Once when my brothers and I were small, Mother was driving through south Georgia , on the way to visit her sister in Jacksonville. She came to a sawhorse in the middle of the  two lane highway. There was a poorly lettered Detour sign attached with an arrow pointing to a narrow dirt road. She had no choice but to take the detour. When she had driven a short way, she saw three or four rough looking men standing in the middle of the road, signaling her to pull over. Well, she gunned the motor and plowed right through them. Yes, they jumped out of the way at the last moment. When I asked what she’d have done if she’d hit one of them, she said she’d just have kept going. One woman in a car with three children must have appeared to be easy pickins’ to those jerks. They didn’t know my mother!

 Truly, I think the fear of parents is for the safety of their children. Oh, yes, we may have all kinds of hopes and dreams for our kids but their physical safety is basic. With a son who was career military, I’ve only been able to sleep at night because I put him in the Lord’s care. Oddly enough, the computer helped me during this last deployment to Iraq. While he didn’t have time for long letters, just a one sentence -” I’m fine” - e mail kept  me sane  -- and able to sleep at least a little. Also, it was good that Dee and I were already living together during that time. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d still been living alone.

 Honestly, I don’t know how my poor mother in law  managed to exist with her two oldest sons serving during World War II. At least her husband was still living then. But mail was so often very long in coming plus much – or most- that they could not share. No, my son did not share everything either but we knew where he was and he could receive our boxes and email. I mostly just sent funnies to him. One night, when I could not sleep, maybe three a.m., I sent a cute joke. I got an immediate rather stern reply: “Mom, what are you doing up this time of night? I am fine. Now please go back to bed and get some rest.”  I had to laugh, guess he knew me too well.

 As we get older, we learn to separate feelings of actual fear from just dislike. I’ve known several people who seemed to actually fear gaining a pound or two.  I truly despise snakes, even tiny ones, but I don’t fear them to the extent that I used to. One person I know has a pure dislike of palmetto bugs but I don’t think she really fears them.

 I believe I do have some fear about the direction this country is taking but I am encouraged to learn that I am not alone. Lots of people - younger, stronger, much more able than I am - are trying to work out solutions. For awhile, I was afraid that just folks in my general age group were concerned but I am learning different. I’m thrilled to see people the ages of my children who are standing for public office. Yes, even younger folks too and many have wonderful, concrete values that we can be proud of.

 Yesterday, I told Dee about a person running for president, who is two months younger that she is. She was horrified! “A guy my age is too young to be president.”  I had to giggle because a guy my age is too darn old to be president!

 Remember the story about President Lyndon Johnson having a phone installed in the private bathroom of one of his aides? He said the ship of state could not be held up while Mr. Blank ran to the bathroom every few minutes. I suspect the language was more colorful but you get the point. Hmmm, wonder how old that fellow was.

 Fear of flying is one we often used to hear about, but these days it is more the aggravation of flying that deters some folks. I don’t like traveling over high bridges and usually close my eyes until we are on level ground again. However, I have learned that if I am driving, I have much less (or no) fear.  Some people are frightened to speak or perform before a group but I enjoy it--- just a ham at heart, I suppose.

 Hey, in 25 words or less, tell me what you are afraid of.  Just one word is OK - like, may- be,  oooh ---  clowns or turtles --  You don’t even have to sign your name …….

 [Note from Dee: I am afraid of kangaroos.]

My Bucket List

Recently, we watched an old movie about two men with terminal cancer, hospital roommates. One had made a bucket list of things to do before he died. The other man had the money for them to carry out their end of life wishes, and they went traveling together, doing everything on their respective Bucket Lists.

 It started my thinking about a bucket list for myself.

 First, I’d have to make some rules:

Would these just pertain to my situation now --- or before Tony died, in 1996 ? I suppose it would boil down to reality or fantasy. Hmmmmmmn , think I’ll stay with the here and now.

 Would they only be things I can easily afford – or what I could afford before the financial mess hit this country – and my bank account ? OK, a little of both, I think.

 The truth is that I’ve done lots of the things that would have been on my list some years ago.  I used to love to travel, wanted to see everything in this country and in Europe.

 I’ve come to a time in my life where I no longer want to have to fly to get somewhere. My arthritis may have something to do with that. I need to move around before I get too stiff and walking on planes, even the big ones, can be a challenge. I rather enjoy the actual flying and looking out the window. There’s a feeling of elation at the beginning, when the plane levels off, which is nice, but I have to honestly say I love to feel those wheels touch the runway at the end of a flight.

 Before we flew to Germany the first time, I read several books about the fear of flying and I found them helpful. I guess it was the really long flight plus being over the ocean that had me a tad uneasy. Thankfully, one of the books, written by a pilot, explained all the bumps and noises so I didn’t have to worry about the plane falling apart.

 I’ve always said I’m a fairly good swimmer, excellent floater, but I can’t fly worth a darn! Consequently, the thought of taking a cruise has always appealed to me. By the time Tony and I took some cruises, we could afford rather elegant accommodations.  I say this because Tony would have been miserable in some of the small staterooms I peeped into on the ships.  He was claustrophobic, plus, like so many others, on his first trip, he’d crossed the Atlantic on a troop ship, a miserable experience. We thoroughly enjoyed the cruises and actually lost a couple of pounds. We mostly lived on the delicious, fresh seafood and salads and walked miles around the decks. (In contrast, we had a dear friend, an MD, who gained twenty pounds on a one week cruise. His wife said he just ate all day and night.)

 So a bit of a list for the bucket would be, actually, a short cruise down the coast from Charleston to Key West – and back—or perhaps leave from Savannah. However, I wouldn’t want to do even that without my children.

 I’d love to see a live whale but not enough to go to Alaska or some far off place to see one. I always enjoy watching the dolphins when I am at the coast.

 As I’ve grown older, lots of wishes, daydreams, desires have narrowed considerably. I don’t want to do anything at all where I’d have to “rough it”. [I can just hear Dee saying,  when did you ever?! We both agree, sleeping with the window open is as rough as we want to get!]

 I enjoy a ride through the Smoky mountains, especially since the roads are so good. I might like to do a little people watching at Cherokee, N.C.  Sometimes when I’ve needed a vision to calm my soul, I  take a mental trip through Cades Cove. I love that area. Catherine Marshall’s book, Christy, about going to English Mountain as a young teacher, is one worth rereading.

 When I was a child, my parents  would get us up early, usually on a Sunday morning, and we’d ride up to and through the Smokies; have a picnic lunch; and return by a different route. Mother always either planned or actually cooked her Sunday dinner, on Saturday. So our picnic lunch could be most anything. Most often, she cooked big pieces of meat like roasts, in a big, black, iron Dutch Oven. She and Dad would just wrap the entire pot and lid in heavy newspapers and it stayed fairly hot – or cold- until lunch. We rarely had paper products so plates, cups, forks etc went into a basket. It seems to me we did always have a big thermos of fruity iced tea. One trip, in November, we stopped and Dad cut a Christmas tree which they tied to the car some way. Boy, that wouldn’t happen now. Perhaps those sweet memories enhance my love of the mountains.

 I’ve always enjoyed singing whether before an audience or alone. But I do think it would be fun to get a group together just to harmonize on some of the old time hymns and songs.

 I’ve been to most of the Florida beaches, not Miami, all the Georgia,   nearly all the South Carolina beaches, and a few French beaches. But I’ll always love Hilton Head most of all. We first went there before it was developed and only had a rickity, scary wood bridge.  Even though it is now built up and more closely resembles a city, I still love going there. I haven’t missed too many years getting there for a week or two. I like to stay in a condo at Ocean One, right on the beach, often just sitting on the balcony,  watching the ocean. For years, we had a time share at the Sea Crest, in January. We met several couples, long time friends, there and it was a bit like a house party. I tried to carry friends and return, several times, after Tony died --- but finally just gave up. I gave the condo back to the Sea Crest as Tony had suggested I do if it became too sad. I was the youngest in our group and all but one other wife are dead. Since then, though, I’ve gone several times with Dee, and my grands, and those have been good times, too.

  In Augusta, I lived alone for nine years and got along OK , just a different dynamic …. Several friends are also widows and three couples were folks I was very comfortable with. Each of those men has died now. Tony’s family lived there also but we were no longer close. They were very nice but memories were too painful, I think, looking back.

 People ask, “If you could do it all over, would you?”  My answer would be, only if I knew then what I know now. However, as I’ve thought about a bucket list, I realize that I’ve done  much that would have been on the list  plus some things I’d never even dreamed of. I’m so lazy and content these days, let’s don’t rock the boat.