FARAWAY PLACES

 “Faraway places with strange sounding names

Far away over the sea

Those faraway places with strange sounding names

Are calling…calling me.”

A song, my anthem. As a young girl I listened to that song. Growing up, I lived in a small seaside town and on long walks looked over the Atlantic wondering what lie on the opposite side…the people, the history, the land. I wanted to see it all. So you know I was born to travel and to prove the truth of…all who wander are not lost.

I love to travel! I’ve always loved to travel so it was no surprise that I’d planned on doing lots when I retired. I hadn’t counted on various old age illnesses stopping me. When my husband retired we did a lot of traveling, mostly cruising, with an old college pal and his wife. My favorite way of traveling is cruising. When Dave became ill we were able to rent a scooter for use at sea. The scooter companies deliver right to your cabin door. (And my husband loved to pretend-terrorize the other passengers with his scooter driving skills.)  What he was able to do with this new-found mobility was to continue his years old hobby as an amateur photographer. He’d scoot to different decks and take pictures of wherever we were docked while I went exploring on my own. Not the ideal way to vacation perhaps but so glad we both had the opportunity to enjoy our travels, each in our own way.

I travel solo now, (thank you cruise lines for installing solo cabins!) I make new friends and still explore new places. With the challenges of aging cruises offer the easiest access and safest way to travel for me. (I’m eighty-four going on sixteen.)

Tomorrow I’m off for a new adventure in a city I’ve been to before to meet up with old friends and share writing experiences with new ones. Until I return, this will be the last post. But I’ll return soon so please come back to check for more adventures in aging …of the traveling type!

EH?

 

Eh? Is an element of the universal “old” language which means please repeat what you just said because I didn’t hear or may have mistaken what I just heard. Although the ear trumpet, the first hearing aid was invented in 1634 by a French mathematician, people still do not like to use any aids to hearing. This may be caused by a stroke of vanity or stubbornness, who knows?

A recent acquaintance of mine mistakenly believed I was hard of hearing. This might have been due to my age. Many men and women my age - 80’s - are hard of hearing or wear hearing aids. But some of us miraculously are not. We’re officially “elderly,” but hear just as well as we did when we were in our twenties. Hearing well is a sense we’re grateful for and do not flaunt. (Although sometimes it’s less free not to hear all that’s being said.) We may have other mega problems thanks to aging just not hearing life’s instructions. As I’ve written before I think about our body parts like old car parts. They dull or totally wear out.

Assumption based on the norm is the danger in stereotyping. (No one who knows me has believed that I have been normal. Ever. But neither am I the uber crazy family member brought out to show off on the front porch.)

I have no problem hearing, even mutterings. Which my acquaintance now realizes because I immediately began a soft, sweet rant of education. He had it wrong.

Do not judge or belittle in my presence, because I will hear you. Loud and clear. Even with eighty and ninety year olds, you don’t know who enjoys keen hearing is listening. You can’t be too careful. (People carry guns these days and use them at the slightest provocation. But that’s a subject for another blog.)

At the other end of the “eh?” scale are the “shouters.” I appreciate those who raise their voices (with a smile) to speak to seniors as a matter of course and consideration. I can tolerate being yelled at by a thoughtful person. If you feel in danger of being misunderstood - shout. Don’t mutter.

Thanks to cataract surgery, non-invasive, painless and a procedure usually covered by insurance, most of us past sixty-five have had our sight restored to early days. We need the bare minimum of help; enter drug store peepers.

I wear glasses, usually peepers, because my sight is more than fair and peepers are less expensive than glasses. (If you’re a woman this is a bonus because you can have frames in every color if you’re serious about coordinating.)

Our five senses are important and expected to diminish over time - but some don’t. Remember, on meeting a new senior, you never know. Be kind.

Picture my hand behind my ear as it is now, “Eh?”

Can you hear me?

 

 

SOMEONE IS IN THE KITCHEN - BUT IT ISN'T ME!

 

I don’t buy green bananas anymore. It’s an old joke that my husband used to toss around frequently. But as in every joke there’s underlying truth. The closer I get to heaven’s door the less I want to leave half a dozen bananas browning in the fruit dish.

Three days is as far as I’ll risk advance grocery purchases.   

Sadly, I’ve neglected my foodie side on this blog. I haven’t blogged about meal planning, shopping, or cooking on my adventures in aging - and each is an adventure unto itself. Sometimes an every day adventure. (I make a grocery list but it’s usually not until I reach the store that I remember the list is still at home.) So, I grocery shop more than I’d like.

I used to love to cook. And I used to be fairly good at it. Something fresh out of the oven meant instant gratification to me. I made fried chicken only second best to KFC according to my son. Another favorite was the little twisty sugar cinnamon donuts I made. Yes, I cooked with Crisco!

But I’m over it now. All of it. The urge to kitchen-strike happened  sometime in my seventies. Now in my eighties I’m good with the early bird specials.

Yet another reason for a kitchen-strike, there is no joy in shopping anymore - if there ever was. Every time I enter a grocery store the prices seem to automatically rise at least 25%. They see me coming. Prices on groceries are sky high and items we remember paying twenty-five cents for are now two dollars and twenty-five cents and climbing.

Once I do make a meager grocery selection I have to plan the cooking. I’ve done this for too many years and in Florida during the summer I break out into a sweat just thinking about it. Turn on the stove? Turn on the oven?

No! Not this senior babe.

There are meal plan services that deliver but you do have to cook the meals once you have them. Fast and easy is my favorite category but they come in family packages, breakfast packages, and organic packages. Almost any package you can ask for is available. For a price. “Hello Fresh” and “Home Chef” are two of the most popular services. Again, cooking is still required.

Yes, you can dine out. That’s why there are early-bird specials and I for one take no shame in enjoying them whenever I can. (Who drives after dark anymore?)

Perhaps simplest (even I can do it) there are the delivery services that bring your favorite restaurant fare to you. It’s a phone call and a slight charge away. When I say I'll make reservations...this is what I mean!

And when it’s required. Thank goodness for the volunteers who make “Wheels on Meals” possible. To be an aging senior in this day and age is to be blessed.

 

 

BEHIND THE MICROPHONE. SPEAKER TIPS

 

When I reached the century mark I stopped counting the many, many professional conferences I’ve attended before and after retirement. I still attend a conference now and then, mostly to catch up and get nostalgic with old friends.

While this applies to any age, I have a conference pet peeve. A giant pet peeve which tackles microphone etiquette and which requires a soap box. Here we go!

First of all there should be rules. Most of us will only address a gathering of our peers a handful of times and therefore don’t feel the need for microphone education. But oh, my. We all do have the need, trust me. I believe there should be a short speaker school, attendance required, where the basic rules of public speaking are laid down. Oh. Wait. There is!

It’s called Toastmasters International. Toastmasters instructs on a wide variety of public speaking and is a great way to gain confidence - if you have the time and inclination.

For those without the time who are about to go behind the mic and speak…I offer a brief course learned during my broadcast days. These are my rules…only five rules that I beg you to follow.  Beg you. When you get up to the podium:

 

5. Do not hold the microphone too close to your lips. Everyone knows this is a sure way to pop your “p’s” and hiss the sound of your sibilants.

4. Also. The closer you hold the mic to your mouth, or move into it…the more muffled the sound will be.  (This also applies to most of our smart phones as well.) It’s not necessary and obviously detrimental to hold the mic too close. If your lips touch you will not be electrocuted…but your message won’t be delivered either.

3. Practice lowering the pitch of your voice. The higher the pitch the less chance of a garbled sound that no one can understand. Yes, it requires practice but can be done. For women think of emulating Emma Stone rather than Minnie Mouse.

2. Tapping the mic to see if it’s “on” is so amateur hour. Restrain yourself don’t do it. Mic’s usually are tested by the sound professionals before being turned over to the speaker. Speak at a normal level and you will be heard, understood and appreciated.

1. Most important of all…please don’t read. Please. I beg you not to pull out a two page single spaced address and ready yourself to read. I guarantee you will fall into a monotone after the first paragraph and very quickly afterwards the audience will fall also. Asleep. 

Use index card notes. No one will mind if you refer to notes, or make a mistake. We are all human and we are not born to be public speakers - that takes time and practice.

 

Okay. That’s all. Now I’ll get down from my soap box and wish every summer speaker, “Much good luck!”