Why we need older friends

Flagstaff Gardens, Melbourne, Australia, photo courtesy of Wikipedia Creative Commons

Earlier this week, I watched three buses from an elder housing community pull out of the parking lot near a theater where we had just seen a play. Ah, so that explained the presence of so many eighty-somethings in the audience.

It was an easy leap at that moment to imagining a time when I will have less control over my life, just as this older crowd seemed to. Will I ever live in a facility like theirs, have to be chauffeured to entertainment with others who live in the same setting, and build my social life and group activities around them?  Would I still see old friends who weren’t residents there or would my life center around “The Home.” (A group of friends and I joke that we’re going to establish our own version of “The Home”.)

Everyone I know wants to live independently forever. But watching the older adults as they exited the theater and boarded their buses, I became very aware that aging takes different forms.

What people need are older role models. I’m serious. What better way to learn about next stages in life than from those who are living them?  The fastest growing population in the county where I live is the eighty-five and older group.There must be plenty of people to look up to and model myself after right now. I have good friends aging along with me and a few older ones. It’s time to ask them what they’re thinking about as they age and what changes they’re experiencing, no matter how subtle.

My best — though atypical — guide to the future is Eleanor at ninety-six. She has as much spark and energy as she probably had when she was forty. Something about her high level of activity and involvement in many projects tells me she’s not yet concerning herself with what will happen next.  She’s decided she wants to live to 101 and I’m confident she’ll make it at least that far. I hope she lives longer.

March 20 Addendum: I can’t believe I forgot to bring up another role model, my 85-year-old yoga teacher, Joyce. I will never have hamstrings as limber as hers. Some of my classmates have been studying with her for more than twenty years. Now that’s loyalty and proof that she’s a good teacher.  She’s studied with some of the best and never pushes.  “You’re in charge of your body,” she says.  “If it hurts, don’t do it.”









Posted in aging, intergenerational, personal reflections | Tagged , , , | 9 Comments

Have an adequate day

Above average – Pixabay: Public Domain pictures

“Have a great day.”

Americans have a knack for exaggeration, our president more than most –“huge, best, greatest” being his frequent and usually self-referential contributions — but the rest of us are also guilty of using superlatives in everyday conversation.

“Have a great day,” was the Starbucks barista’s send-off yesterday as she handed me a cup of tea.  “Awesome,” was the email comment I just received from a friend for whom I had done a tiny favor.

These comments got me thinking about how to describe most of my days. After a bit of a struggle, I settled on the word “adequate.” If something extra special happens, such as going out to dinner or a play, my days become good days, one degree above adequate. According to my on-line dictionary, one definition of “adequate” is “pretty good.” It’s sad to think that we view a pretty good experience as somehow below par.  It could be worse, though, if it were “average,” meaning “usual” or “ordinary.”

The problem as I see it:  We’ve reached the point in our culture — the Lake Wobegon” effect — “where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.” Being told we’re less than perfect whether’s it’s on the job, in school, after a music lesson, or in appearance is grounds for considering, if only briefly, the application of a sharp knife to one’s wrists or, minimally, a lawsuit. While I might mock the barista’s use of “great day,” I’m as guilty as anyone else in using exaggeration to label everyday events or conditions. I say “great” (“considerably above normal,” “magnificent,” extraordinary”) when someone refers to any positive situation.  Other Person: “I’m going to skip work and sleep in tomorrow. Let’s have lunch.” Me: “Great!”

I can testify personally to the horror of once being called “average.” After my first year on a new job, my supervisor called me in for my end-of-the-year review, which turned out to be an oral report consisting of one sentence:  “I can say with confidence that your work this year was average.”  It didn’t matter that she was teasing.  It felt like the lowest blow she could hit me with.

I have a possible solution to our obsession with greatness, a solution that would only be acceptable to people of a certain age.  Years ago, my husband and I spent several Julys in Guanajuato, Mexico living with a Mexican woman, Marilu, (now our Mexican sister). When asked how she was doing, she used an expression  –“Estoy contenta” — that I’m considering adopting.  “I’m satisfied. I’m content.” What if more of us found ourselves feeling content? Not perfect, not awesome, not great, but also not lacking for anything or requiring much more, simply satisfied. Maybe if we just said, “I’m satisfied,” often, we’d begin to believe that feeling content was a very good way to experience life.




Posted in humor, memories, personal reflections | Tagged , | 6 Comments

Music as meditation

jamming in the hallway

jamming in the hallway at Wintergrass

No one would call me mindful.  I forget where I set my reading glasses, have returned empty envelopes to Comcast and others while leaving the payment checks in my checkbook, and once left my cell phone on an outdoor bench in Haarlem, The Netherlands. (After a complicated series of events I received it in the mail after we’d returned home.)

I’m not looking for miracles, but would like to make some improvements. I know, I know, just shut my eyes, count my breaths, dismiss distractions, and my blood pressure will drop, I will no longer stew over the state of our country, and soon will be floating in a Nirvana-like state. In fact, there is a great deal of research on the effectiveness of meditation in relieving stress and improving health, but I haven’t put in the amount of time needed to improve anything. I work my fifteen minutes in before bedtime and immediately return to reading my library book, which is a lot more fun.

more jamming

more jamming

However, something that happened recently gave me an idea of a new approach to achieving some level of mindfulness. For four glorious days my husband and I attended a music festival called Wintergrass.  This year’s theme was “Bach to Blue Grass.” We heard fourteen different musical groups, playing about 45 minutes apiece.  (Yes, sitting that long does take its toll, but there are three venues, so you get a little exercise walking between rooms.)

By day three I found my mind wandering less. By day four I was able to banish many random thoughts and found the music completely absorbing. Also, I attended Sunday church services and found myself completely absorbed in chanting, and listening to the entire congregation chant, when normally I think about my grocery list for the week.

I’ve decided to try music meditation. It’s been thirty years since I listened to classical music. A good starter would be a record (my husband has saved plenty of vinyl from the old days) by British composer Ralph Vaughn Williams, preferably one of his pieces described as tranquil, even mystical. If, after a few weeks, I’m still putting eggs in the freezer or forgetting where I left the cat, at least I will have broadened my musical horizons.

Posted in Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Aging like a monkey

Sock monkey I made

I don’t usually write about — or even admit to — aging as it affects me, but after reading an article in the New York Times, “What Old Monkeys and Old Humans Have in Common,” I think it’s time we talked about getting old, and what we can expect as far as behavior changes specific to aging. Researchers are studying Barbary macaque monkeys in retirement (about age 20). From their work, we can see what we might become if we haven’t already become it.

Monkeys and humans get pickier as they get older and less interested in trying new things. Humans might eat at the same restaurant again and again. We might create schedules that call for doing certain things on particular days, for example, dine out on Wednesdays, go grocery shopping on Fridays, and clean the house on Sundays. We might get cranky around strangers (I’m assuming this means that we’ve already gotten cranky around our loved ones and have just extended this to strangers later in life).

Monkeys and humans tend to socialize less as they get older.  Monkeys pay attention to what’s going on around them, “but they don’t want to participate themselves.” Some days humans don’t feel like socializing, and map out a day around  watching TV…alone. Both humans and monkeys tend to take fewer risks as they age.

We humans are aware that we only have so much time left and prefer to spend it in the ways we choose.  No one attributes this awareness to monkeys, so researchers are looking for the roots of our common behaviors in biology. Meanwhile, if we want to know more about what to expect, we can hang out at the zoo and observe the monkey elders.


Posted in aging, changes after retirement | Tagged , | 4 Comments

The satisfaction of doing it yourself



Have you held on to something you created earlier in your life,  maybe an elementary school finger painting or a junior high wood shop birdhouse? I have collections of greeting cards I made and never sent, and booklets I made and never used. Why am I still keeping them? Because I made them.

And I’m not alone. Behavioral economist Dan Ariely calls feeling good about things we make the “Ikea effect.”  You can read his piece in “Why We Love Our Own Creations,” at dailygood.org.

If you’ve ever assembled a piece of Ikea furniture — despite it often being a frustrating and time-consuming experience — you’ll know what he’s talking about. When you complete the project you look at the results and feel pride. “I did this,” you tell yourself, “and it looks good.”

Ariely says that makers of cake mixes figured out this aspect of human nature a long time ago. In an earlier era, when cake mixes required cooks only to add water, they didn’t sell well. Later, when homemakers had to add eggs and oil to the mix, they became more attached to the cake. It became their creation.

In one of Ariely’s experiments, subjects folded paper cranes. Even if their creations were ugly, they liked them because of the effort they’d put into making them.

The point of the Ikea effect is that it shows us we get something in return when we do projects for ourselves, when we don’t expect manufacturers/businesses to do all the work. When I take a loaf of homemade bread from the oven, I feel thrilled.  I hover around it, stick my nose near it to inhale the aroma, sometimes take a picture. It is the most satisfying experience.

Ariely says for those creators, “the lesson here is that a little sweat equity pays us back in meaning — and that is a high return.”



Posted in inspiration, personal reflections | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

An alternative fact about the rooster


common symbol of Portugal

I haven’t been able to write a blog for several weeks. These days I’m like the driver who can’t help but stop and stare at the horrifying wreck in the road and then wonder why she can’t focus on anything else after that.

I returned to Facebook today for the longest look I’ve taken in a while, and though on my news feed much depressing information dominates, I found FB friends celebrating anniversaries, playing with their grandchildren, enjoying winter sports, and finding ways to temporarily put national politics out of their minds. I decided I could and should return to blogging about more mundane topics in life, topics such as roosters.

The Year of the Rooster has just begun. This colorful bird, which represents loyalty, solarizeroosterpunctuality, independence, a quick mind and a warm heart, sounds like a better icon for 2017 than…well, you know.
img_0452My husband and I became interested in roosters when we spent part of several summers in Guanajuato, Mexico. As lifelong “city slickers,” we had bought into the “alternative fact” that roosters crowed only at dawn. We were wrong. The city-bred “roof roosters,” as we called them, saw fit to crow any time of the day or night. They made sleep more difficult because they sounded off at night when there were no daytime noises to mask their racket.

One exception: we were there during a total eclipse of the sun and as the sky darkened the roosters did go silent, then crowed their hearts out when the light of the day’s second dawn flooded the sky.

Since then, we have photographed roosters in Portugal, Iceland, and the U.S., bought rooster memorabilia, and even purchased a loyal wooden rooster who silently guards the fireplace hearth.

Of course, like all the members of the Chinese zodiac, the person born in a rooster year has his faults.  These include: “Impatient, critical, eccentric, narrow-minded, selfish.”  This year, these don’t sound so bad.


Posted in Uncategorized | 5 Comments

Martha Stewart and me

elephantnapkinI imagine that the first thing Martha Stewart does in planning a dinner party is create a guest list.  Of course it’s possible that, instead, she begins with an idea of some dish she’s been craving, say, pork belly and tomato aspic, and then goes through her mental list of friends, crossing off those she knows will hate tomato aspic.

Whatever Martha’s approach, it couldn’t be farther from mine.  I start with paper napkins, not any paper napkins, but those that catch my eye when I’m not shopping for them. A week ago, I was wandering through the gift shop of the Seattle Repertory Theatre and spotted napkins that featured a tastefully psychedelic, bronze elephant. The beast was in a garden setting that belonged to the India of maharajas and maharanis. I bought the napkins.

“Now that I have these napkins,” I told my husband, “we need to invite friends to dinner.” I could have entertained friends using napkins I already possessed, except that my other winter-themed paper napkins came from Iceland. If I used them, I’d run out before winter was over.  They featured the design of the Icelandic sweater. For me they are better than the real sweaters made from wool and presumably itchy. I’m meting them out very slowly, because it’s not likely I’ll find substitutes to bring back icelandsweaterthe same happy travel memories.

I pictured the bronze elephants matching my bronze placemats and could already envision my gorgeous Martha-style table setting.  That picture lasted until the day before the planned dinner, when my husband and I pulled the placemats out of the drawer.  Hmm. They weren’t really bronze, but rather a two-tone, indescribable metallic color. Oh well, the elephants were still beautiful even if they didn’t look quite right with the placemats.

“That’s not the only problem,” my husband said, “We have four placemats, not six.”  So I had no choice but to add two multicolored, multi-patterned placemats to the four metallic ones. And none of them matched the napkins.

The day of the party, we discovered another snag: we had only five bowls for the hearty soup to feed six hungry guests.

The only other obstacle to a brilliant Martha-Stewart table was the barely begun picture puzzle lying at the end of the dining room table.  I’d started to put the 750 pieces together a few weeks ago, when we were staying in a cabin in the snowy Methow Valley. The image on the puzzle was so complex that I didn’t get very far on it, so I brought it home.

I studied the table before the guests arrived: the mis-matched placemats that didn’t go with each other or the napkins, a picture puzzle filling a third of the table, and one missing soup bowl.

I asked myself what Martha would do if she found herself in a situation like this. Of course she wouldn’t find herself in this predicament, so I couldn’t answer my question.

After the meal was over, I explained to the guests that the napkins were what spurred me to invite them to dinner. They nodded, unfazed by this revelation, and urged me to keep buying napkins.




Posted in friends and family, humor | Tagged , | 6 Comments

2017 resolutions, goals, and life themes

imagesThe end of one year and the start of another is often a time for reflection and a belief that we can, at least symbolically, have a fresh start. When we choose what we want to do in the future, often we don’t spend enough time reflecting on our present situation. Is the life we’re living satisfying? Do we need to change ourselves or our goals to make it more satisfying? Is our current life synced with our values?  Without assessing our situation fully, we might point our future plans in the wrong direction. We might decide to make sacrifices to achieve goals that in the end won’t make enough of a difference to justify the sacrifice. For example, is looking better in a swim suit enough of a carrot to diet and change one’s eating habits permanently?

It could be time to approach our planning for the new year from a new angle. Recently, I heard a minister describe a modern tradition in Japan in which people are encouraged to vote for a word chosen from a list of words that would best embody the new year. Once votes are tallied, the winner becomes the national word for the year. In a similar vein, a writers’ blog asked the question, “What word will guide your writing for 2017?”  Different contributors came up with “enjoy” the process, “trust” my judgment and experience, “focus,” to stay on schedule, and “becoming” less hung up on worries about getting or not getting published.

If you were describing a life you aspire to in 2017, what words would you put on your list? Mine would include “give up,” the foolish idea that I can control everything; “create” art, music, and words; and “stop” imagining the worst is yet to come. Just saying the words won’t mean anything, unless I also reflect on what I would have to do to make sure they direct my actions.

Another approach to reflection comes from the website dailygood.org, which asks the question, “What Will The Theme Of Your Life Be in 2017?” by Kira M. Newman. The entire piece is worth reading, but for now, here’s the CliffsNotes version.  Newman says that from childhood forward, we create stories about who we are and the past experiences that shaped us. “Stories are the way we make sense of the world, and we’re constantly narrating and revising in our heads, sometimes without even realizing it..Although our life story is based on real events, it is also highly personal and subjective.” For example, two people might have lost a parent at an early age, but describe the impact of that experience on their own growth and development differently.

Newman goes into detail about three life themes “linked to well-being”: 1) those that revolve around social relations and community, 2) ones that emphasize personal achievement and status, and 3) those that focus on redemption. We don’t have to limit ourselves to one, because they can change over time.

And she talks about the need to weave together our goals and life themes.  “Goals and New Year’s resolutions don’t have to be isolated aspirations, failed and forgotten. Instead, they can contribute to crafting a life theme and an identity that endure.”

Posted in personal reflections | Leave a comment

Which is better, a city or a town?

9 am, that is

9 am, that is

Which is a better place to live, a small town or a city? That was the conversation my husband and I had while enjoying a white Christmas —  though not the single-digit temperatures — in Winthrop, Washington, population 415, or 1,916 if you consider the outlying areas.

I should clarify “small town” to mean a thriving small town. Sadly, there are plenty in the state with buildings boarded up, and the thrift store and food bank the anchors. Thriving towns often are those whose leaders have come up with a gimmick to keep the tourists coming, if not new residents. Winthrop, with its faux wild west architecture and its honest reputation as the nation’s largest cross country ski area is one of them. The excellent “Trail’s End” bookstore describes the town’s residents as highly literate outdoor enthusiasts.

After spending two days there, in a cabin in front of a gas fireplace reading, writing, snacking as well as soaking in our private hot tub, we ventured into the streets, the stores and onto the ski trails. At the bookstore, I had a long and pleasant conversation with a clerk about books we had both enjoyed.  At the ski shop, we waited a long time for an employee to listen patiently to streams of questions, doubts, and other insecurities from a potential ski shopper. When our turn came, we received the same thorough and thoughtful attention. When we discovered that the restaurant where we’d made an on-line reservation for Christmas Eve dinner was not where it had been a year ago, someone we talked to on our rambles gave us good directions on how to find the new location. At the same restaurant, the hostess and our server both spent time asking how we’d passed the day and actually listening to our answers, while also sharing local information, and just generally chatting us up.

In no way did these experiences match those of our lives in a city, where everyone is busy. Normally efficient, but always busy. The pace is wearying.  “Rush hour” is not in the vocabulary of people who live in Winthrop.  On the ski trail, we met a couple from a city north of where we live who were considering relocating to Winthrop. Too much traffic, too many people, and too much development were some of their reasons. They’re right. The Puget Sound region is experiencing enormous population growth.

We were quite content to spend five peaceful days in the quiet of nature, the only sounds being the swoosh of skis on the tracks, the hum of the occasional light plane overhead, and the gurgle of the jets in the hot tub.

But would we want to live here? After considering the possibility from different angles, we decided we wouldn’t. Why not?  The clinic there couldn’t do what the hospital a few blocks away from our home could.  Dining out options were good but limited. Making new friends might take time, and we would miss old friends who live near us now. We enjoy museums, art galleries, and lectures, which would be harder to find without driving some distance. We knew that all of these objections could be overcome. We realized that the biggest reason not to move was that we are fair-weather outdoor enthusiasts. When the man on the street gave us directions to the restaurant, he added that it would be easy for us to walk there.  As we drove the mile home in well-below freezing temperatures, we were happy we hadn’t taken his advice.



Posted in personal reflections, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Resolving the problem of extreme list making

Were you one of the gazillion readers who pushed sales of The Lifetime Magic of Tidying Up through the rooftop? For those who didn’t read the book, author Marie Kondo shared tips for the sport of extreme decluttering. Kondo gave one piece of advice I’ll never forget: “Believe what your heart tells you when you ask, ‘Does this spark joy?'” If an item doesn’t give you joy, she advises getting rid of it.  I tried to apply this rule to my efforts to declutter kitchen utensils, my underwear drawer, and linen closet. Although using the items in each of these locations does not make me want to clap and sing aloud, I  find them to be very useful and, consequently, felt compelled to shove the drawers closed.

I bring up this topic, because it reminds me of a blog post I just read about overcoming another bad habit, titled “How To Only Do Things You Actually Want to Do.” In this, writer Christine Carter takes on the topic of things-to-do lists. She says, “Ineffective task lists make us feel like we have too much to do in too little time, which makes us feel overwhelmed. Ironically, this makes us worse at planning and managing our time.” I agree with her on this point. But then, she asks list makers to highlight any items they dread doing, and delete or delegate these items. Cleaning my oven, a task I dread, seems to never make any of my lists. So far so good. But notice the next step. Delegate what you dread?

Even to delegate what I’d rather not do, as in shopping for groceries, doing errands, cooking and cleaning up the kitchen, would be impossible to achieve on a daily basis. I don’t want to try to push off anything more to my husband who does his fair share.  uke-and-gordonAnd Gordon the cat hardly has the energy to wake up from his long winter’s nap except to make it to his food bowl, and filling it every ten minutes is also a hard job to delegate.

Sure, I could pay someone to do everything I don’t want to do, but that seems more like hiring a household staff comparable to the one that reigned in Downton Abbey. Rather than resort to extreme editing and costly delegating, I believe I’ll skip list making. If on occasion I feel pressure to create one, I’ll do it the day of and fill it only with activities I love.


Posted in humor, personal reflections | 4 Comments