Aging

I have the distinct pleasure of volunteering with a very “young” woman who is approaching the age of ninety-three. We have worked together for the past several years at Select Seconds, the hospital thrift shop. About once a month, Ann puts me to shame. She has more energy bottled up in her tiny little body than most of the teenage boys in my high school foreign language classes.

I remember one Saturday when we were working, Ann asked if she could leave a bit early. She needed to finish mowing her lawn. Mowing her lawn! Now mind you, it was a Saturday in June and it was at least ninety degrees outside. Mow her lawn! I was thinking about going home and lying in the shade with a big glass of iced tea. This mowing stuff from a woman who was literally twice my age!

So, I came home from the thrift shop only to find my neighbor, Mrs. Frye, out working in her vegetable garden! Now if Mrs. Frye is not yet ninety, she’s terribly close. Mrs. Frye’s yard is immaculate, on a bad day. Her vegetable garden would put any master gardener to shame. And there she was in the heat out working in her yard.

I pulled in my driveway, laden with guilt. There would be neither shade nor iced tea that afternoon. As I sat in the car, I wondered what I would be like at ninety…or if I would even make it to ninety. I smiled as I realized I would very much like to be like Mrs. Frye or like Ann. I wanted to be an active “young” elderly woman, and I had excellent role models.

I also thought about trends in our society; the trend to appear as young as possible, to somehow extend youth. We’re bombarded with advertisements for gels and creams that will make our lines of aging “disappear.” Ads for plastic surgery and energizing drugs and drink mixes. Why are we so afraid of aging?

In other cultures, there is much respect for and admiration of the elderly. In France, the elderly are allowed to take the best spots in line. People in other cultures look up to the elderly as the wise ones. They admire those wrinkles of experience. We want to erase them.

“Age is a state of mind.” I’ve heard that phrase many times, especially from older folks who jog around the tennis courts or who are in training for a marathon. My husband recently commented on an actress who was at least in her late fifties and had clearly succumbed to the surgery trend. “Her face doesn’t even look real,” he said. And I was reminded of the Velveteen Rabbit and the Skin Horse who explained to him, “Real isn’t how you are made. It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.”

Maybe we needn’t worry so about maintaining our youth…maybe we just need to focus a little more on being real. Ann and Mrs. Frye are so real that I when I grow up, I want to be just like they are! Real “young.”

Snow Days

While being snowed in for the past two days with the area's Blizzard of 2010, I have been reflecting on snow days gone by. Snow days in our household were always festive occasions. The kids would sit up the night before a school day intently watching weather forecasts. The next morning upon hearing cancellation lists on the local radio station, I would tiptoe into their bedrooms and tell them the news they had been hoping for. No school!

They would sleep in and I would head to the kitchen to begin breakfast preparations. Mickey Mouse pancakes or pooh bear waffles with sausage or bacon. The sleepy heads would stumble down the stairs and we'd all sit at the table and make plans for the day while we ate. Then it was off to watch cartoons or news coverage of the snow storm. We'd sip hot chocolate while we watched the television.

Then it was time for the outdoor activities. Everyone would dress in hats and gloves and snow pants and coats. We'd waddle out the front door, all toastie in our winter wear. The saucers and sleds would come out of the garage and we'd head to the back field to slid down the hill. The dogs too would tag along and run and jump in the white fluffy stuff that had fallen the night before.

After awhile, I would head inside to begin making preparations for break time. I'd put on a pot of water for hot chocolate mix, then I'd start the fire in the fireplace. If lunch time were approaching, I'd be sure to put a pot of soup on the stove to warm. And then I would wait in the quiet for the storm of sledders to burst through the door.

Snow boots and pants would be tossed by the door and slippers would be placed on cold feet. The kids would run to sit in front of the fire and I would start filling mugs with hot chocolate. This was usually about the time that my husband would grab the shovel to begin clearing the driveway for the inevitable end to our being snowed in.

In the afternoon, we'd typically gather around the kitchen counter to begin work on some type of cookie. Usually chocolate chip. Then the kids would head into the family room to watch a movie or some cartoons. Dad would return from the shoveling and we'd all sit together and laugh at whatever was on the television.

One particular winter storm brought a lengthy power outage. We gathered in the basement near the wood stove and played games and read books. In the evening we got out the sleeping bags and all cuddled by the warm stove. It was like a camp out.

I always thought snow days were a special gift from God. It's like his way of saying "take some time off. Have some good quality time together." We no longer have the kids at home to spend snow days with, but during this storm my husband and I have reverted to some well loved traditions. We've had the fire in the fireplace. I've baked some cookies and we have even had a few outdoor adventures. No sledding or saucers, but we've had some fun in the snow.

Dating my true love

During the first year of our marriage, my husband and I celebrated our monthly anniversaries with a special dinner out. Now mind you, we were both very recent college graduates and funds were in short supply. In the first few months of our marriage, the only work I was doing was volunteering. But the benefits of Tim’s military career helped us many times to be able to swing a nice dinner out.

In that first year of married life, my husband was in the training program for naval aviators. This meant that we were not in one location for an extended period of time. Our first stop was Naval Air Station Whiting Field. When we arrived in Milton, FL, we were greeted by members of the local Welcome Wagon. The Welcome Wagon was a national organization with local branches whose mission was to welcome newcomers to an area and help them find their way around.

Ladies from the group arrived at our apartment with a basket full of local products, maps, information on local attractions and coupons for area services and restaurants. The restaurant coupons were mostly for buy one meal and get the second one free. So for our first two monthly anniversaries, we dined at establishments in the Milton/Pensacola area that were well represented in the Welcome Wagon basket.

With the next phase of training, we relocated to Corpus Christi, Texas. Once again the ladies of the local Welcome Wagon came ringing our doorbell. The coupons in this basket enabled us to have our monthly dinners during our entire six month stay in Texas. We experienced a few restaurants that specialized in Mexican cuisine. I tried my first sopapillas with a buy one meal get one meal free coupon. We also tried Texas barbecue at a western style restaurant. We even had a meal in a restaurant where our seats overlooked the water. How romantic! And low cost at the same time!

By the time we had been married for eight months, we were on our third move. In August of that year, we found ourselves in San Jose, California. No Welcome Wagon was there to greet us, so we ended up having most of our remaining monthly anniversary dinners at the Officers’ Club on base. Sometimes we had to select evenings when they were running specials, but dine out on our date, we did! Somehow throughout the course of our first year of marriage, we managed to have a special anniversary dinner each month.

Our dinner dates have continued for the past twenty-eight years. We no longer head to a restaurant to celebrate our monthly anniversaries, but we do continue to enjoy our dinner dates. Sometimes we’ll dress elegantly for a fine dining experience. Other times we’ll be casual and have dinner in one of our favorite local diners. On occasion, our dinner date is calling out for pizza and eating by candlelight in our own dining room. But the dinner dates continue.

While the locations have changed, as well as the fare, the one constant about our dinners out is the face that looks back at me from across the table. It is still the face of the most handsome man I have ever met. And wherever we go, there’s still that bit of romance that makes dating my husband something I plan to do for a long time to come.