A New Bump in the Road

Lots of diseases and conditions are more likely to occur when you get older. I was first diagnosed with Diabetes when I was past 50 and I managed for a long time to keep it in control with simple strategies like losing weight and controlling what I ate. I did finally require medication by mouth, but I dreaded advancement to insulin therapy even though I knew it was probably coming. 

Well, get over it. It happened today. The doctor called the dosage small. I guess it is, but it still indicates I am getting worse. That's not something I want to shout about. I don't like to advertise my illnesses or seek pity or privileges due to this condition. I feel a little ashamed or embarrassed about it. Maybe I'm giving it more power over my life than it warrants. Maybe I can manage it without great parades and the bands playing, but somehow this marks a new milestone in my life. It's no longer just something that I can control with a better diet and a pill once a day. Now I'll be more at risk for low blood sugar because of the shot. I'll probably have to see the doctor more often. She may expect me to count calories. Whatever the requirements, I already don't like the way this is going. I've seen the damage this disease did to others and reduces my optimism about getting old. 

I had really kind of settled on growing old gracefully, but debilitating disease does not enhance that possibility.  

Resolution Before New Year

Old people looking at something (Photo credit: Jared Wong)

I've been messing around for a while now here at the home, but I think I've found my niche. I'm not really interested in playing cards or going to "Social Hour." I think I'll regress into things I found rewarding earlier in life, like writing. I've been piddling with the blogs for a while now, but I'd like to do some serious stuff again. I like Apologetics and fiction. Maybe more academic writing would occupy my time and attention, but I may need a great deal more work to accomplish that. 

I haven't written a poem in a while, and that is certainly one thing I want to do, but I have read some modern poetry lately, and I wasn't very impressed. Some of it was O.K. But I want to write for readers that live in the real world, or better yet, for people who live in the world of aging. The stuff I found depended on shock and odd spacing and harsh images. I didn't find much that was uplifting or encouraging. The authors were mostly college professors. I will seek common experiences and emotions to write about--sometimes from those people who play cards and go to "Social Hour."

Carl Sandburg wrote about Chicago's hog butchers and Robert Frost wrote about New England farmers and Emily Dickinson wrote about bees and prairies. I'll probably follow their lead. I know they wrote in a bygone era, but I belong there, too. I am old and I like the lessons yet to be found there, so here at "the home" I hope to get my priorities in order and write more consistently and more regularly, with greater discipline and critique.

Getting Older Is Getting Harder

I really believe I am better than I was when I was young. My brain is better, and my understanding is better, but I have less bodily strength and endurance for physical activity. I count the mental activity and disregard the physical stuff so I can say I really am better now that I'm older. I like to read George Valliant's work with the aging population. It cheers me to hear him say that the aging brain is still active. If I'm going to have to live to be very old I at least want to enjoy the benefits.

After I was 70 I went back to school. It may have been the best thing I could have done to deal with the death of my husband. I studied history, English literature, and Latin. I'd like to do it again, but it does cost a lot of money. I am reading as much as my vision will allow. I want to be more in tune with life and joy and love as I get older, but in many ways I want to be free from people with their judgments, competitions, and jealousies. I don't enjoy the frivolous activities of the retirement home I live in. I don't like the card games and craft projects. I am trying to inspire a Bible study and poetry reading. I'm afraid I won't get many bites, but I've have thrown out the bait. 

I would like for this time to produce a truly vibrant mental activity. Of course when I went to school, the other students were mostly in their twenties. It will be a different quality of discussion that came from that group. Well, maybe not. There were grouches and lazy slobs in that age range and I think there are still some of them around now. I guess I've got as good a chance of provoking a meaningful discussion here as I had at the University.

Anybody want to talk about Isaiah or Robert Frost? 

So I Can't See!

I got my eyes tested yesterday afternoon. I was not impressed with the exam. I thought the doctor was sort of non-communicative. He implied that I didn't know my own history and dismissed me as too dumb to understand what had happened to me.

O.K. I'm old and not a doctor, but I was still his patient. I expected some respect and acknowledgement. When my eyes did not dilate readily, I got extra doses of the drops intended to accomplish the procedure.  In all, I got two doses initially, then two more when the pupils did not respond quickly. The purpose of the dilation is to give the doctor a window into the inside of my eye. He had already finished the part I cared about which gave the prescription for my lenses. I suppose he learns about the condition of my eyes by doing this, but it doesn't improve the correction or change the grinding of the lenses. It took extra time and it bugged me. But that wasn't the worst part. I have never had dilation last overnight, before, but this time it did.

 Today I can't watch TV very well. I can't stand the brightness of sunlight, and reading is severely limited. For these reasons, I have formed a very poor opinion of my new ophthalmologist. .The dilation also prevented my fitting of the new glasses. I'll have to go back later to do that.

Maybe this is just an excuse to get mad at some inconvenience. It does indeed rise to the lever of dissatisfaction and the desire to scream at the doctor. This kind of thing happens occasional.  Something I was promised is compromised, and I want somebody to gripe at. Fixing the problem would be nice, but mostly I just want to express my frustration. As I said before, I'm old and I want things to go my way, to be controlled and predictable, to be safe and provide comfort. And just now I want to be able to see. Short of that, I want to tell somebody I'm mad.           

Dark Matter Is a Black Cherry.

In the dining room at "the home" we can sit anywhere and with anyone. I sit with Fred Ellis quite a bit. He is very hard of hearing and never makes conversation. Occasionally he does make comments. Fred was a physicist and lectured at Pan-Am University here. One night a couple of weeds ago I tried to overcome the language problem by writing notes to him. 

"Tell me about Dark Matter," I wrote. He smiled and said, "Nobody knows anything about it. Stephen Hawking talks about it."
Tonight when I sat down, he said, "Tell me about Dark Matter." We laughed. 

We agreed that the soup was somewhat less than we had hoped for mostly with glances and hand signals. We sat back to see if the menu was accurate:. It said we would have a hot sandwich. I leaned close to his ear and said, "Sometimes they lie." We laughed again.

The patty melt sandwich was O.K. I was interested in what the dessert would be. The menu says we will have English Trifle about once a week and we have never had anything that even resembled trifle. Dessert was ice cream with a black cherry and sauce. I ate a few bites and the black cherry. Fred took the cherry out of his ice cream and deposited it on the paper place mat, and then continued to consume all the ice cream. 

  "I don't know what that is." Fred pointed with his spoon. I leaned close to his ear.
"It's Dark Matter," I said.

Supper was over and we parted smiling. Fred is a charming dinner companion.

This Is the Day...

Today has not been the best of all Sundays. I got up on time and went to the dining room to eat breakfast, but when I looked for the driver who I expected to take me to church, he wasn't at work. The manager explained that he was told not to come to work since the vehicle he took us to church in had not been registered and was past due. Nobody bothered to announce this so we could make other arrangements. I thought the ones who left were the dummies, but it seems to be a corporate requirement. 

I have registered many cars. It's pretty simple: You just go to the county office that handles car registrations, give the clerk the name of the owner and the money required, and she will give you the sticker to place on your windshield. Since it was expired for an extended period, there will be an additional charge. So you pay it/ That 's it. They had all day Friday to get this accomplished. I have no sympathy.

Then I went to lunch. It wasn't great. The menu said we would have Waldorf Salad. It was Cole Slaw. The Cordon Bleu was O.K. but the menu promised Roasted Yukon Gold Potatoes; they were definitely red skin potatoes. The Butternut Squash was not seasoned or done. Not my favorite meal!

This afternoon I had a stomachache. This day does not portend a good week. I already have an appointment with the doctor. I'm not looking forward to it.And yet the Bible says this is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. This is as glad as I get when I didn't get to Church, lunch was a dud and my stomach still hurts.

  

A Cure for Boredom

Today I complained to a friend that I was bored. She encouraged me to practice my painting. Let me explain. She is a painter and she has been giving me and other instruction in using and enjoying watercolor. Well, I'm trying, but art is not my medium. I am a writer and my talent and my drive is totally confined to writing. I do appreciate art, but it is difficult and I am stressed. I can't get to a place where I enjoy the activity or feel rewarded by the result. 

The sad truth is that I am often bored living in "the home," and painting does nothing to alleviate the condition. Other friends have suggested activities like reading and writing and research. I've already tried them and they are successful in the short term. Over the long haul I need a distant goal, something that will require my skills and energies for months, maybe years. Teaching a Sunday school class or a Bible study comes to mind. Both of these require study, research, organizing a syllabus and imparting information to people I don't know yet.

One of the things I miss is conversation, not idle chit-chat, but sharing of ideas and history, personal stories and experiences, conversations that challenge the memory and intellect. People rarely want to get into this kind of conversation. It's work, very pleasant work, but it requires effort and accuracy. It means you have to deal with subjects that may need references and quotes from authorities. It may also mean you have to take a stand and defend it. 

I guess I'll try again. Bible study, Sunday school, are looking pretty good right now.

Boredom at "The Home"

I keep trying to find a way to make living in "the home" more than just tolerable; I want it to be a victory shout, a triumph. But the people I am here with don't make that easy. Football is a big subject on Monday morning, Both college and professional teams are represented in the ranks of the retired here at "the home." Plays and performance are reviewed at breakfast whether the enthusiasts reveal any expertise in the area of football or not. 

I watched football when my husband was alive, but in my retirement without him, I now focus on interests that are my own. I have yet to find anyone who wants to chat about Bible study, poetry, Latin, modern or ancient history, physics, or adult developmental theory.  My lack of interesting conversation is my own problem. I don't blame anyone else, but it does explain why I am bored and can't get excited about a card game or a craft. Last Friday night I went to the art gallery with a friend who is a painter and I enjoyed it very much. I wanted to stay longer, but everybody else was ready to leave. I wanted to talk about the pieces and hear the artists comments. 

It seems like I expect too much out of retirement. I would like to struggle to learn and find the kind of reward I got when I first studied Latin.. I do have a lot of books so for a while they may be the best I can do. 

Learn a Lesson from the Kite

This morning I told six children who were in the blended service of St. Mark's United Methodist Church the lesson the kite teaches us. It goes like this:

When You are facing the force of the wind and the pressure that comes against you in life, you are O.K. as long as the connection you have with God, the One in control, is strong and steady. Indeed, the pressure you face may be the very power of the Holy Spirit. The interesting thing about the workings of a kite is the stronger the force against it, the higher it flies.

I tried to reinforce the idea to the kids that they could handle hard things in life as long as their connection to God was strong and secure. I didn't have time to explain to them that their attitude, just like the kite's, was also important. The angle which the wind hits the kite is called "the angle of attack."  The angle must be balanced between too steep and too shallow to get the optimum performance.

Our attitude like the kite's makes a lot of difference in how we get along in life. Together with strong and secure connection to God, we have to maintain a good attitude. Our angle of attack has to observe the correct balance to keep us cheerful, optimistic, and honest.  And we must always pay attention to our connection with the One in control.

Is Depression a Good Thing?

 Sometimes I just want to be depressed. I'm not talking about the mental illness that is often associated with suicide or causes the horrible, cloying inability to function. I just want to retire into my memories and escape from the need to deal with people, especially people I don't know.

I don't want to go to meals and find someone to sit with. I don't want to have to make conversation. I don't want to eat food that isn't appealing. I just want to stay home for a while and read, or watch rerun TV, or be bored. Maybe being in "the home" is enough depression for right now. 

This depression is not the real thing. It still has the potential for production. Real depression is paralyzing, but this is just retreat. I just want to be alone and enter into mediation. I want to write poetry and read other people's. I want to experience fall, and here in the Valley, I have to find some way to find fall besides walking in the woods, besides drinking in the beauty of autumn leaves, besides inhaling the smell of burning brush.  

This is my first fall in the Valley. Maybe depression and memory will see me through.

Read and Share

Activities for old folks are difficult to predict. but at supper tonight I finally made contact with Judy and we agreed on forming a group for reviewing books and reading poetry. Another resident sponsors a group that attends a lecture on a book that all the members have read. We are interested in reviewing books that we haven't read and reading poetry aloud to share.

Judy was an English teacher. She may have many resources. I'm kinda excited with this prospect. Having something to do in "the home" is a real benefit, much less the chance to expand your interest and  learn something. Of the activities I have investigated, most are boring to me. .Someone to share the interest with is  absolutely God sent

Maybe there is someone else who will join with us..

Do You Like It Here?

Somebody asked me if I like it here. I took a long time to answer, and even then I couldn't say "yes." That caused me to think about my true feelings. No I don't like it. There are a great many benefits to living here, but they don't make me like it. 

I don't always like the food. Sometimes it's O.K. I don't like not having a car and being able to come and go as I please. I can use the transportation bus and get stuff done, but it's not always convenient or pleasing. I don't like having to use cable for TV. It's mostly a bore. 

Back to the food, I don't like the meal schedule. 8:a.m., 12:30 and 5:30 makes the meals too close together. I would like 7 a.m. 12 noon, and 6 p.m. or maybe 6:30. I'd like them spread out a little more. It seems like all there is to do is get over one meal and wait for the next one.

I am really bored by the activity schedule. Many of the activities are not attended, so I guess I'm not the only once that finds the schedule worse than boring. Some people really get into the bingo games. I'm glad for them, but bingo has never been my favorite. I'm not big on cards or dominoes either. And I don't play Texas Holdem Poker.

So there are my complaints. Given time I'll probably find more. I didn't mention that some people are not my favorite companions, but maybe that'd be getting too honest. There are many intelligent people whose conversation's I would enjoy. I guess I haven't found most of them yet. I like one gentleman whose hearing is so bad he doesn't make conversation. It is nice to sit with him and have no obligation to talk. Sometimes I've sat alone, but then people want me to sit with someone since they perceive my solitude as loneliness. I really don't like this.

Study the Bible

I am campaigning for Bible study. People who claim to be Christians should practice Bible study. They should read the Bible and examine it to understand or discuss its issues.. Many Bible themes are difficult requiring forethought before sharing them. I have heard for years that most Church member are Biblically illiterate. It's time to correct that.  

Dealing with these issues is hard especially when it involves your children. To be an example to your children, it is essential that you model studying the Bible. You have to practice the principles it teaches. You have to study it to know and understand what it says.

For your own decisions understanding the Bible is important. When you are a Christian, you are obligated to behave in ways that reflect your profession. Study the Bible to understand those ways and shape your behavior to match God's requirement. Bible study is the way to begin 

Do the Right Thing!

The Resident Council of "the home" meets today. Being a member of that noble body does not thrill me with awe and wonder. Being a member prompts two questions in my mind: Why did anybody vote for me?  and What do the residents expect us to do about the concerns?

I found out how I got elected. A friend decided I would be good on the Resident Council after she discovered I had been on the City Council and served as mayor of a very small town in East Texas. I would not have thought that my credentials would have served me well. A group of citizens took us to District Court charging some sort of malfeasance. It was no-billed, but still that doesn't sound like something I would brag about if I had wanted to be on the council. She impressed others to vote for me. It actually wasn't that many, but here I am.

All the Resident Council does is recommend action to the Manager. Well, we can, as a body address issues verbally. In the only such case so far, the offender stoutly denied that she had done anything. We were acting on the testimony of several people including members of management. We told her that her actions were inappropriate. She still denied responsibility. We couldn't send her to the principal!

The second question: What do residents expect us to do about their concerns? I'll tell you what we do. We read the complaint and then look at each other and shrug our collective shoulders. I really hate the complaints that complain that something isn't fair. We are adults and we found out that life's not fair long before we arrived at this place. That may mean that we have to make up for the deficit in other people's behavior. No, that's not fair, but it's the way life is.  

To Serve or Be Served

I joined a Church today. It isn't a highly progressive and dynamic one I don't suppose. I attended another one for three weeks trying to see where I felt like I'd like to be. 

The Church I chose may be struggling. I'm not sure, but I found a place where I can offer to serve. Somehow, I am more attracted by a Church that needs me where I have something to offer, than by one that is vibrant and growing and I might get lost in.

It could be that I am seeking to make myself important, and that is probably conceit and self-promotion. It certainly falls short of a spiritual call, but I'll see how God works and how I fit in with the Church. I don't imagine it will take long for me to know if I am able to contribute to the Church's ministry and program. I'll also find out if the Church feeds me. I've changed churches on several occasions when the one I was attending stopped nourishing me in the Word of God. 

Who Do You Want to Eat With?

Going to meals in "the home" is enlightening. When I first moved in, asking if I could sit with someone at meals was a way to get introduced. I didn't enjoy every meal companion I sat with, but it was pretty good way find out who people were and learn ut the local gossip.

The managers encourage new people to introduce themselves. They also encourage residents to make new people feel welcome so I was somewhat surprised one day last week when I sat by myself and several people commented on it. The group at the next table tried to introduce me to another group as if I was helpless. I appreciated their concern, but I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. When I choose to eat alone, it's because I want to. Sometimes I don't want to talk to people. Sometimes I just want to sit there in the silence and think or maybe not even that--just sit there and wait.

I thought about it for a while. If I wan't to eat alone I need to take something to read. When someone is reading, they don't look alone. They look occupied, busy, even. Maybe if I want to eat alone, I should stay home and eat peanut butter.

When I eat alone, I remember what Frank would have said about the menu or the dishes. He was very critical of "tender crisp vegetables" He wanted them cooked well done. He would have griped about the desserts too. Don't they know what "sugar free" means? There have to be others in a group this large, who would like to have a sugar free dessert. Who ever told the chef that Jello is a salad? By the way, it's not dessert either.I guess this is not a meal I would enjoy. It's just a list of gripes, but there are things he would enjoy, too, and I would enjoy the visit with him. 

Food at "the home"

Most of the food at "the home" is pretty good. I mean it will sustain life, but let's face it: The food gets all the complaints. Most of the food is not cooked like I made it when I was at my house. They don't season it like I would. The menus are not selected like I would  Some of it is just not fixed to fit my taste. All that being said, it's still O.K.

Now let's get down to the real opinion. Most of it is not the way I want it done, but I want to gripe about abut some specifics. A Chicken Croquette was not something I was acquainted with. I have made and eaten Salmon Croquettes for many years--this looked like something I knew, but it was not. It had less taste and I could have been convinced that it had already been chewed. It had a lovely, deceptive brown crust, but then it fell apart. The crust was covered in a rather tasteless sauce described as Country Gravy on the menu. I have both and made and eaten Country Gravy. This was made from a mix and was even blander than the Croquette.

On to other things: The other item on the plate was labeled
 Marinated Salad. I guess marinated means it was soggy and sour. Salad is supposed to be crisp and fresh. 

Oh, yes, I forgot, there was no bread. Gravy usually means there is bread to go with it. Well, maybe the lovely crust on the Chicken thing was to go with the gravy. This meal was absolutely the worst I have encountered at "the home." It didn't taste bad, but on the other hand, it didn't taste at all. 

Maybe that's all my gripes for a while. 

Resident Counsel Delivers Justice, Sort of.\

The Bible requires accusation in the mouth of 2 or 3 witnesses to find someone guilty; good old-fashioned denial is a pretty good defebse if you want to avoid penalty. 

Today I had the experience of confronting someone for inappropriate behavior, and she flatly denied knowledge of the incident. She was accused of telling a resident he could not sit at a particular table. The man is quite deaf, but he is still very intelligent and astute.  She asked for the opportunity to confront her accusers, but the people responsible for censure did not want to blow the whole thing up any bigger by inviting a public accusation. We couldn't believe she denied knowledge of the behavior or the incident. She did admit talking to the man, but she swore she did not insult or verbally abuse him.

The accused signed the paper we requested agreeing that if this behavior was repeated she would be restricted from the dining room. She felt that this implied admission. I countered with the thought that if her denial were true, there would be no tendency or temptation for the behavior to be an issue again. 

She still felt she had been unjustly accused. On the other hand, the accusations were independent and consistent. Two of the accusers were members of management. Others were residents. No one expressed a bias against her. She is a vocal and visible member of the community. I'm afraid this is not the last we will hear of it.    

Alone in the Universe

Living in "the home" reveals a shocking and alarming truth: We are all alone. "The home" has a motto which says that life is better when lived with close friends. 

This may be true, but the people I live with in "the home" were rank strangers when I moved here a month ago. I have, indeed, found people I like a lot, but it would be a great exaggeration to call them close friends.We have not shared time and experience. We don't have common goals or interests. We might develop them over time, or that dream may evaporate. We each have skills and talents that help us live in this private vacuum. No matter how many people there are, no matter how intense the activity schedule; no matter how committed the staff, we are still alone. 

I see dramatizations about humans living on the Moon or Mars in a highly restricted state. I agree with Robert Frost when he said
"They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars-- on stars where no human race is. 
I have it in me so much nearer home 
To scare myself with my own desert places"*

"The home" is a desert place capable of imposing intense isolation  It will benefit anyone who expects to live in such a place to engage in training for the event. Learning to endure your own company is a skill not learned in polite society. 

*Desert Places by Robert Frost

"Open Seating" Is a Myth

At the home seating for meals is supposed to be first come, first served. New residents may sit anywhere they choose and no places are reserved for late-comers. The tables accommodate four people and none are reserved for anyone. Some of the residents don't realize that. Several people have managed to get their favorite table near the kitchen or by the window for so long they feel they have staked a claim toit.

Open seating means that I or anyone else is free to occupy any seat we choose as long as no one is currently sitting in it. It does not mean that the seat is reserved for an individual who has not yet arrived but customarily sits there. I am considering seeking out those tables that are may appear to be the regular perch of those who have adopted this ownership attitude and see what happens when I invade the "no man's land." 

Check back later to see what the result is.

Normal People in the Home

The residents at the home are real people, or at least they were before they retired and became part of the vast assembly of the Boomer Generation that has hit Social Security benefit rolls. They worked for businesses and companies like Halliburton and Eli Lily. They were soldiers and sailors and farmers and salesmen; the women were secretaries and teachers and mothers and some if them were soldiers, too. They have surrendered most of the responsibilities for the workplace and government endeavor, but the experience and the wisdom that came for that life is still available and sharp. 

I enjoy their insight and humor at mealtimes and in conversations. Several of the people I consider friends here have arrived at a stage in life where they can view the pain or difficulty of their situation with a calm and tolerant attitude. Humor seems to be one of the major life skills they have achieved.

There are people who live here who have not graduated to that level of life stage development. Some are still fixed at Kolhberg's elementary stages of Moral Development. One contact focused on fairness as the standard of behavior. Some people rest in the prestige of their achievements in the buiness world before retirement. If they don't continue to grow, those victories are soon forgotten by others.    

Retirement and growing old are not excuses for remaining in the same intellectual and psychological state forever. We are always responsible for the way we think and believe. Being a resident of the home doesn't mean we can sit back and let life happen to us. The brain learns and grows as long as we live, and we benefit or suffer as a result. Retirement means we are excused from work, but not from growing and learning.

More People at the Home

At the home three meals are served each day. Although my apartment has a kitchen, I resolved not to use it. I have now lived here for a whole month. Most of the time, I have kept my resolution. I've been out to eat with Becky a few times, and I stayed home and ate peanut butter once or twice. Going to the dining hall is sort of an adventure. Meals are served by an elegant wait staff dressed in white shirts and formal aprons. I mentioned before that the managers serve coffee. We order the special or a fruit plate, sandwich or other alternate entree. There is always a salad or maybe soup, the main course, and dessert.

A large part of the wait staff are high school boys and girls who attend to our needs personally while others are the maids who clean between meals. This is kind of a thrill to be attended and waited on. The guys are fun and funny. Sometimes they are a little awed by all these old people, but their manners are exquisite. For me, it's kind of a thrill.

One of the most interesting and, maybe, scariest aspects of mealtimes is where to sit. We are encouraged to sit with new people or people we don't know to make friends and form a more compatible community. There is no assigned seating. As a matter of fact, we are not supposed to reserve a place for people who have not arrived. Sometimes there is quite a 'to do' about that. The resident council has had complaints about people who have tried to commandeer tables and chairs claiming them like they were personal property.

Today I sat with a gentleman who has been verbally abused by another resident telling him he could not sit at "her table." He is quite deaf and has not been able to get his hearing aids adjusted. I feel a little sorry for him because he seems ostracized and isolated, but he is very pleasant to sit with. I don't have to make polite conversation or listen to endless stories of his grandchildren. I am sure he would be a very competent conversationalist and I would enjoy the event. I look forward to that happening some time in the future. He was a physicist and lectured at the University here. I'm just dying for her to say something to him while I'm sitting with him. I was a psychologist at Coffield--a maximum security men's prison that housed 3500 inmates. I walked the wings three times a week. I can handle this.

People at the Home-

I've been meaning to write about my move to the retirement home ever since I began this process, but somehow, I was too close to the action. I've been here a month now, and I have begun to get bored and depressed. Sometimes I don't like the home. Maybe if I can write about it, I will be able to refocus and get a better perspective.

I'll begin with the people who live and work here. When I first came, my daughter had made all the arrangements, and I just signed the rent check. The staff seemed active and efficient. The Sales director was a ball of energy talking to people daily to spread the word about the facility and it's benefits. He was often in the dining room with prospective residents for a meal. It was sort of inspiring.

But He was the person responsible for making this look like a good idea. The managers were the ones who handled day to day problems, the ones who made living here possible. Managers were husband and wife teams, and when I moved in there were two sets of managers. By the time I had been here a week, one set of managers had been transferred, and the couple that remained had no relief. They did all the office work, assigned all duties to maids, received all reports and forms from dining room, kitchen help, wrote receipts, answered the phone, and responded to emergencies. Both of them served coffee throughout meals three times a day. 

One of the first people I met when I arrived was the young man who coordinated activities. He was very young and had absolutely no concept of the interests of anyone over 25. He walked around or sat at his desk, but he didn't do much but serve popcorn and drinks at the social hour and bingo 3 or 4 times a week.

The schedule listed many events that were his responsibility, but they were not well attended and he did not do anything to change that situation.

He became angry and got in a shouting match with management and was fired. He was replaced by a volunteer who did a good job, but she was a resident and did not want the job full time.  I saw evidence of some of the arts and crafts ideas he had been in charge of, and I was less than impressed. I left that kind of effort in the third grade and I didn't want to return to it.

Meals were served three times a day. Transportation was provided for local trips to doctors, grocery store, Wal-Mart, and church. I had maid service once a week. I could use the washers and driers and the beauty shop. But lots of areas needed attention and I felt sorry for the managers. The shortage of staff and the lack advertised events and services took the snap out of the deal. Check back to see if we ever get things going the right way.

Work for Retirement

I have become a friend for the woman who is now the volunteering as the Enrichment Director. She is energetic, committed, and enthusiastic about the program. The home is in the process of hiring someone to fill the position professionally. It seems to me the only one who is enriched by the Enrichment Director is the one who has the job. 

The home has this large complicated calendar with many activities listed, but little participation. I guess it looks good to some board or supervisor, but  it doesn't do much for the residents. I guess I'm feeling very negative about the ability of this facility to improve my satisfaction with life and living. 

I'm not sure where these homes get their information about old people . The physical and dietary needs needs are the easy part. The psychological and spiritual needs are difficult. Nobody told me that when I retired to enjoy the benefits of my labor I should retain something to make me feel useful and productive. People who paint can continue to paint and people who write work on a book or a blog, I guess. There are people here who seem to get along with minimal activity.Maybe they have a hobby I don't know about. About all I do is go to meals.  I am sharing this  insight to all my friends who have not retired to a "home" yet. Don't let yourself arrive at the "home" with no plan for work. 

What Do I Do Now?

The worst thing about retirement is not having a job, a goal, a responsibility. I saw it when my husband retired. He was ready to retire from the job, but he wasn't ready to be jobless. Now I have moved to a retirement home. There are activities but they are meaningless. There are some things I have to do, like wash my clothes and pay bills. But none of these are meaningful. They pass time. The activities like playing cards or dominoes are just passing times. Reading is better-at least it gives me a chance to interact with
thoughts and ideas. I don't really do well with games even though the people are interesting and challenging. When the game ends I don't feel accomplishment or victory. I feel like I have wasted time, and I don't feel good about it. 

I've got to go back to work. I've got to feel productive. Of course, what I want to do is not really something that increases the gross national product, but since I have to wrestle with ideas and produce a logical argument, I can tell myself that it is contributing to the world's knowledge. Maybe my writing is just my opinion, but expressing it gives me a great deal of pleasure. Making the expression coherent and concise is important to what I call my work. Nobody has to know that I do it. I don't make any money. I don't impress people with with knowledge or skill. But I still consider this my work. I write about opinions, ideas, and events that impress, thrill, or anger me. I argue in favor of righteousness or common sense, or I criticize foolishness or folly when I see it as damaging to people or society. 

Getting  back to work may make my living in the retirement home easier to deal with. I sure hope so--It's a mess like this.  

Evolutionary Change

It was suggested to me today that the next generation would have stronger, more flexible thumbs due to the prevalence of cell phones and games in modern societybe determined.  Preparations are necessary to document this historic evolutionary shift. Doctors will be required to take measurements of thumb length, circumference, and objective strength.  There would also have to be studies to determine visual correlations to thumb dexterity. 

The implications of this study are yet to be determined. Results could prompt studies of big toe expansion due to the wearing of flip-flops and sensitivity to bat guano due to over use of eye liner and mascara.  

It Ain't Over Till It's over"

I moved into the retirement home on Thursday, so I may still be in what I'd call the adjustment phase. I'm learning all the routines and language of the residents and staff. I've met lots of people but I rarely can remember the names. One lady assured me that nobody else could either. We all seem to have similar problems, and I may actually be among the more able contingent. Several people are in their nineties and I know one lady who will be 100 in September. Age is not really the important factor. Maybe there are more important factors when you are old than age. 

The question I ask myself is not "How old am I?" but, "Do I have life in me?" I want to share this exciting adventure of old age with you. One day it will end, but until then there are lessons to learn and events to view and accomplishments to celebrate. It ain't over til it's over.

Learning the RopesI

So I'm learning the rules and routines at Heritage Village now. Meals have always been markers and gauges to measure time, but I was never constrained by them like I am now. Meals are served at 8:00, 12:30 and 5:30. Of course, every apartment has a full kitchen so I could cook at home if I wanted to, but one of the advantages of living here is the freedom from shopping for food, cooking, and cleaning up. Now I feel like I'm on a schedule--I have to go to the dining room on time. It's not like I meeting someone I want to see. It's not a romantic tryst. It noon and it's time for dinner and I have to be there and sit with people who I am just being introduced to. It's life in "the home." 

And I'll get used to it or get over it or cook at home. Human beings adapt and adjust and change. It's not bad and maybe it's a sign of growth. And to think I though there wouldn't be any challenges in living in a retirement home.

Moving In!

I now live in "the home," Heritage Village, a retirement home. It's a nice facility for senior citizens. I moved in less than a week ago, so I'm one of the new kids on the block. I'm still getting adjusted to the routine and the activities. It's been a joke between my kids and me for a long time that one of them would put me in "the home." In the TV show "The Golden Girls" Dorothy was always threatening Sophia with "Shady Pines" I guess this is my "Shady Pines."

Meals are provided. Transportation is provided. Bills are paid except for TV, Internet and phone. There are many activities (most of which I don't care for). I'm still trying to find my niche. Niche theory says there is a place where I'll be useful and maintain my ability to perform ordinary functions. At least it happens in the natural world. Maybe in this artificial civilization there are new rules. Does anyone have any advice?

George Vallant on Aging Well

I read George Vallant's book Aging Well a year or two ago, and today I picked it up for a refresher. I was first introduced to him in a class on Adult Development over thirty years ago. He was the author of one of the texts, Adaptation to Life. I loved the study and the whole concept of development continuing after childhood.

I had children and watched their development cheering when they took first steps, learned to read, and entered adulthood. In all the concern for my growing children, I neglected to note my own development until I took the class. Some things I did out of order. I was taking the class when I was already past 45. I could evaluate some of the adult sequences in my own life, but I had just finished my Bachelor's degree. 

The professor, Dr. Lundberg, suggested there may be stages that extend beyond the 60-65 year age bracket, but they had not been studied or defined yet. My interest in adult development continued until I found myself in the vast desert that lies beyond retirement. To my amazement George Vallant was still actively researching and writing about developmental stages. 

I love his new stages! They offer hope, challenge, and fulfillment for those of us who, like me, are still trying to grow up. Generativity is one of the stages defined by Erik Erikson. It usually begins in middle adulthood when we have learned things we want to pass on to the next generation. We mentor others to spread the joy of our activities. I enjoy teaching people to make bread and kites. And, of course, there's writing. I love to share something of the journey, the memories, the insights. 

What have you learned that you want to share and pass on?

To Honor Those Who Stood To Serve

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier - guard at attention 01 - Arlington National Cemetery - 2012 (Photo credit: dctim1)

TO HONOR THOSE WHO STOOD TO SERVE

Oh, God of freedom and of might,

Who gave us victory in the fight,

Provided bounty in this land

By strength of all who chose to stand,

We thank those who obeyed the call,

Who stepped up and gave their all.

We have no medals to bestow

The depth of gratitude to show.

To honor those who stood to serve,

We pray You bless and still preserve.

            This little poem expresses some of the obligation I feel toward the men and women who have served our country and are serving today.  There are no words, no accolades to offer those who invest their lives in this service .  But I am pleased to pray for their safety.  I am excited when I see them in a parade.  I am moved by their service and sacrifice.  I give thanks for their dedication.

Does Fairness Count?

Winston Churchill, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom from 1940 to 1945 and from 1951 to 1955. Deutsch: Winston Churchill, 1940 bis 1945 sowie 1951 bis 1955 Premier des Vereinigten Königreichs und Literaturnobelpreisträger des Jahres 1953. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“If you're not a liberal at twenty you have no heart, if you're not a conservative at forty you have no brain.”

                      Winston Churchill
                                                                  The longer I live the more I realize that fairness is not a measure of reality or truth. The world is not "fair." Maybe our aim should change to justice or, better yet, righteousness. Fairness has not served well as a standard for behavior, legislation, or even equality. God does not deal in fairness.

Fairness is a subjective quality. We claim foul and call the game unfair when one player or one team breaks the rules, but life is not like the game: In life not everybody gets the same chance, and some enter life with a disavantage. Intelligence, physical ability, guile, and grace seem to be distrubuted without regard to fairness. Indeed, these factors give some of us a great a step up in the world.
Some of us are handsome, and some are quick-witted. Either attribute can fit a person for success in one arena, but it is not fair when all the players don't have the same opportunity.

Like I said, life is not fair. Our demand that we make life fair is foolish. We don't have the resources to create a fair society or environment. I don't know that God even recognizes our concept of fairness. Some of us are brilliant, but don't have honor while some love with intensity, but lack integrity. The factors don't balance the scales. either. 

Is there an answer? No! God grants grace, and we are charged with making the best of the situation. Our drive in education is an attempt to maximize our talents to benefit our outcome. We need resources to fill our needs, and the skills we perfect help us fill them, but is it fair? Sick people need more accommodation from the  society at large to survive. Somebody has to help them meet their needs. People who plunder society disrupt distribution of food and necessities--we call them criminals. They are unfair players in life, and seek an unfair advantage, and the rest of us suffer for their actions.

I don't have an answer. Fairness is not achievable. I return to God's standard and look at righteousness as the measure of behavior. Justice is not much better than fairness when human wisdom becomes the vehicle for delivering it, so my best plan is measure myself by God's standard of righteousness and live in peace not judging others but submitting myself daily to God.

  

Interests of the Older Set

Getting older doesn't mean I've lost interest in things I did when I was young. I see lots of ads directed at older people that convince me I'm not lining up with the rest of my generation, or, maybe, the advertising world doesn't know us as well as they thought.

I do enjoy things that belong to a younger stage of life. I love to fly kites. Sometimes I even like to make them. I like to try new designs and teach others to enjoy them, too. My life-long fear of mathematics even yielded to getting older. I found and used the formula that lets me figure out how strong a wind a specific kite requires.

The one thing I cook with some expertise is bread. My love of bread comes from my childhood. I loved the aroma of bread baking. I started baking bread when I was first married. Sometime along the way, I started looking for different recipes and interesting shapes.  Now I like to look for shapes and ingredients that have special cultural or regional meaning. Kolache from Poland and other Eastern European countries and Pan de Muerto from Mexico, and Challah from Israel. 

My behavior in regard to getting older reveals neither an abandonment of interests from a younger age nor weariness with the subject matter. I do still like to interact with kites and bread, but  always with deeper and more interesting parameters. I do sometimes take up a new subject: A couple of years ago, I made a necklace , but I decided that bead work was not my best thing. I'm not much on playing Bridge or Forty Two. And contrary to the opinion of advertisers on TV, I don't look at match-making by on-line businesses as the answer to loneliness in my old age. It seems much more likely that the businesses are interested in making money, not making love. 

If you are getting older, find the interests that move and thrill you. Explore them in detail and find the excitement you crave. Your old age can be as challenging or rewarding as you choose.

Does Getting Old Hurt?

Occasionally I remember a stray thought from my childhood and it comes back to haunt me. "How does old age feel? Does it hurt?" I wondered about these things when I saw my elderly relatives struggle with physical feats that had become difficult. 

My question was prompted by the often verbalized opinion by adults that any pain a kid experiences is a growing pain. It made sense to me that if adults said kids had growing pains then getting old should be painful, too.

Now I am learning a new take on pain in relation to age. Getting old isn't painful by itself, but some diseases and conditions that accompany old age may do it. As a matter of fact, I rather enjoy the fact that I have lived a long time. But let's face the tough facts: tasks get more difficult as we age, healing is slower, reaction time is slower, and cell loss accelerates.  The only defense against the toll age takes is exercise. The doctor may call it rehab, but this is the place where pain really takes control. 

The goal seems to be to push your physical exertion to the outer limits. When my husband was advised to do exercise to improve his functioning, he refused because it hurt. I can see the logic of  rehab, but I'm not much better than my husband in the practice of it. Mostly I find it boring. I'd much rather read or surf he net or write a letter. I'd rather do almost anything than workout.  The last time I walked to exercise, I broke my foot. Events like that tend to reduce my efforts. Maybe I'll just get old and deal with it.

Grandchildren Are Grand

One benefit and joy of growing older is the ability to reflect on my life and remember how I came through the ages and stages of growing up. I spent last weekend with my daughter and her husband and two children. It was wonderful! I planned the trip around Katy's performance in the February recital of her dance class. Katy is in the youngest group and she only participated in one dance. It was a tap number and she was on the back row, but she was great. (This is a grandmother praising her, you understand.) 

I asked Shania why she never wanted to learn to dance. She said simply, "It's just not my thing." Good enough. Her thing was running for presidnecy of the BPA in her school. This year she surrendered the position to a new person and is now running for a state office in the organization. I am very proud of her accomplishments, too.

Now that all the fun is over, I am reflecting on where I've been and how some of it has affected me. I took tap lessons when I was 5 or 6. I remember the total embarrassment of getting caught in front of the curtain when it closed and having no where to go. I remember the demands of practice and the reward of smiles and claps.

I was president of my Girl Scout troop when I was 11. I don't know that I was great and I think Shania will surpass me, but I remember the responsibility that office taught me.  A few years ago I was the mayor of my town for about 4 years. If I had known I was going to need the experience, I would have paid more attention the first time.

It is fun and exciting and hopeful to see my grandchildren growing into competent and successful people. I want to applaud their efforts and support them through these experiences, good or bad. so that they are not afraid to tackle the next job. Growing up is hard work, but for me looking on, it's also joy.

Music That Sings in My Soul

I watched a segment devoted to Tim McGraw on  CBS Sunday Morning this morning. He commented on the importance of music in how we mark and organize our experiences. He referred to a song he wrote and sang entitled "Live Like You're Dying." His father Tug McGraw died afterward. He admitted it was the most emotional experience he ever had in recording a song. 

The interview prompted me to reflect on the way music has been important to me. I've never had any musical talent, but I've always enjoyed the message and emotion I found in it. I remember my uncle Jimmie would hear a song on the radio and say "I first heard that in 1934," or "I was dating this little brunette that really liked my hair." Now that I look back on it, I remember that Jimmie tied songs to significant events in his life.

I'm more likely to relate lyrics to truths like rare poetry and melodies to emotions, the kind that play in your heart. Mostly its the "golden oldies" for me. Some of the music I lean on are the hymns that carry the words of my faith. They inspire me and keep me going even when things are bad. Some songs are like old friends: they remind me of happy times, loving people, joyous events. I think Tim McGraw is right: Music helps us organize our lives and keep the beat regular.

Pliny the Elder

Reading the Latin classics is very rewarding. And it's true that there's really not much that is new in this world. We try to make it new or look fresh, but it's just another case of "everything that's old is new again." I found a website that contains the works of Pliny the Elder, and the translation is from 1601. Middle English is not all that hard to read. Actually it's easier than the Middle English version of The Canterbury Tales I studied a few years ago. The translation is attributed to Philemon Holland dated 1601. My logic reasons that this indicates that English had progressed toward Modern at this time. 

Pliny was an interesting man, brilliant, productive, a military man, and an avid scholar. He wrote constantly. His only extant work is the voluminous Historie of Natvre(History of Nature). The book addresses all manner of subjects that occur in our environment including culture, history, and science as Pliny experienced it. 
Some of his writing was dedicated to rhetoric which was the beginning of a young man's introduction into society and adult thought. Writing on rhetoric was a way of being productive while avoiding the notice of the emperor-Caligula and Nero were both volatile and homicidal. 

Much of his military service was spent in Germania. Pliny was a lawyer and argued cases after his military service was completed. He served as a procurator several times in different provinces. 

The first entry I read in the History focused on a description of elephants in Volume VIII Chapter I.  I love elephants. His observations are fascinating even though not scientifically accurate. Pliny also describes many other animals and it makes sense that he would. He was in Africa during his military career. Reading and exploring the writings of Pliny and his fellow Romans gives me a new excitement about the New Year. 

On Being A Busybody

I am often amazed at the wisdom and insight of older writers and critics. The writers of the Bible and other ancient observers of human nature are able to give modern readers a new view of life in the fast lane. I ran across a very useful site hosted by Bill Thayer which gives some beautiful pictures of Italy and volumes of translations of Latin literature. I found "On Being A Busybody" by Plutarch among the many he offers.

In the text I found beautiful metaphors describing the unhealthy atmosphere of a house without light and clean air compared to  "unhealthy and injurious states of mind which allow winter and darkness to enter the soul."  Plutarch advises that we should rid ourselves of these attitudes, but if a thorough mind-cleaning is not convenient, then at least disrupt the comfortable arrangement.

Plutarch describes curiosity as the "first malady" to inhabit the mind in this way, but not the only one. He defines curiosity as "a desire to learn the troubles of others" and it is allied with malice and envy. 

Why do you look so sharp on others' ills,

Malignant man, yet overlook your own?

Plutarch points out that if we are so interested in the ills of the soul, we would do well to examine our own, not our neighbors'. It reminds me of Jesus' words in Matthew 7 verse 5(NIV) You hypocrite, first take the plank out of  your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

Plutarch offers advise to help us remove this negative behavior from our present life and I am suggesting that in the early part of a new year is an appropriate time to proclaim this the year of freedom from the busybody existence. It is a process and may take a while.

First, Plutarch returns to the house metaphor. A homeowner separates belongings into groups-kitchen utensils, weapons, gardening tools, etc. then, Plutarch says to identify your shortcomings that flow out of the busybody attitude-the malice, the envy, the jealousy-so that you can attack them one at a time. Next, he says to "block the windows" so you can't see your neighbors' property and must focus on your own. Now you see your meddlesome ways as the evil they are and you ask yourself these questions-

Where did I err? And what deed have I done?

What duty neglected?

This is the beginning of freedom from your habit. 

Read the full text of Plutarch's essay.