UNFORSEEN CIRCUMSTANCES

 So, there is a problem with writing a weekly blog when you’re over eighty years old. Worn out parts or new viruses, illness of different sorts unexpectedly come into play and writing a blog is the last thing on your mind. The good news? We bounce back! And produce a new blog. Eventually.

That would be me.

An old friend recently complained about depression, tired of being prodded and poked. I can relate. Most of us can relate. But that is the price we pay for keeping on, for living our lives every day. To be present and to live to the fullest extent possible.

Not long ago, I fell into a patch of depression. Positive, optimistic, me. I floundered for a while. But Instead of going on an online, full-out shopping spree, (my usual go-to) I adopted a dog. A dog, well almost any animal, requires a certain amount of care, enough to take you out of yourself and better yet, out of depression. In return you receive unconditional love. What could be better?

(With my dog, I no longer have outrageous bills for an ill-timed shopping spree. A really awesome benefit.)

I also took classes and learned new things (also jogging the brain helps keep all that gray mass engaged). I joined a woman’s group which I have never done before, I am a lifelong anti-joiner. Forced committees at work gave me chills. And yet, here I am a member of group that goes places and does things.

Better than anything to cure depression…seek the counsel of a health care professional. Depression in our advanced years is not a new phenomenon. Life has changed, we have lost loved ones, and we are physically unable to do the things we used to - our last great party was twenty-two years ago.

I’ll miss writing a blog every now and then, but there are previous blogs available to read. I can’t stress about what I’m unable to do for the moment. Friends will always understand.

I have a tee-shirt that says it, and I’m always delighted to repeat the lyrics of one of the 1970’s great music hits…’c’om get happy!

 

 

 

SPRING FASHIONS

 The spring fashion shows are in full swing. The designers and models are showing us what we women will be wearing in the coming season. Well, maybe not all of us. Writers have a different fashion sense. I am currently working in sweatpants and a comfortable pajama top. Nonetheless.

I love fashion. I love everything about it, colors, fabrics, texture, minis and maxis.  And I always have. I love the magazines, the icons like Chanel and the late Iris Apfel. I watch awards programs just to see what the celebrities are wearing.

Fashion might have been my career. But mother happened. I’m not certain whether she told me…long after the fact…or my grandmother but the story goes that my aunt, a sophisticated buyer and later board member of one of New York City’s most prestigious retail companies wrote to my mother requesting that after graduation (university) I come to New York and work as her assistant protégé. She wrote to my mother instead of me as a courtesy. My mother apparently did not take well to the invitation and what promised a better life for me.

I would have begged for such an opportunity!

But my mother saw things differently. I would focus on this fashion career; perhaps neglect getting married and giving her grandchildren. Or. My mother had always been a bit jealous of my aunt’s glamorous life and finances that my mother could not have, had not. She was a typical fifties’ housewife who experienced little glamour. Read - none.

My mother was right in that I did take up a career that I enjoyed and that I focused on for many years. It could have been fashion, but instead it was broadcasting beginning with rock ‘n roll radio.

They say everything old is new again. And that seems true. Many times in the last few years I’ve said to myself, “You should have saved that mini- skirt.”  But really?

The mini-skirts are different today. They are exceedingly mini. And the legs I used to flaunt in my mini-skirts are not quite the same either. They are best covered in tights. My body has shifted and changed. I look for excellent engineering in my wardrobe now. I no longer fit in the smaller sizes of dresses or pants. The ship of hot pants sailed years ago.

Figuring out an age-appropriate wardrobe is a skill. That I’m working on to this day. Clothes do not make the woman…however; they can make a woman very happy. When you look your best, it’s difficult not to feel your best.

My friend Glory says in striving for an age-appropriate wardrobe you can’t go wrong with classic styles, they will always be age-appropriate. 

But also a bit boring?

 

ROMANCE SCAM

 The Romance Scam. Those two words should never be spoken together. And yet. They are. Currently, the number one scam - especially for the elderly - statistic points to the romance scam, love for the lovelorn or whatever you’d like to call it. Worse, now victims are being used to money launder. And wow, a criminal offense (whether knowingly or not) has nothing to do with love or romance. Fortunately, we aren't elderly and we do not fall for scams. We read the fine print and listen between the lines. right?

I started thinking about scam statistics on Valentines’ Day. You can see how one thing just led to another.

And then, still absorbing this news, a network evening news program cited fifty-four million dollars lost to love.  FIFTY-FOUR MILLION DOLLARS. Another news outlet gave the figure as a billion. BILLION DOLLARS!

Women have lost and continue to lose millions of dollars to empty promises. Mostly made by me. And again, it’s men (usually men) who prey on lonely women promising love forever more. These scam artists use poetry and the words every woman longs to hear at one time in her life or another…”You are my everything.” They send “borrowed” photos of attractive men found on the internet claiming to be themselves.

Loneliness can be a mental illness and those women or men dealing with loneliness can be helped without losing a lifetime of their savings. Lonely people become prime prey for the scam artist. Women are the most abused.

For aging women, widows, or women who have been waiting all their lives for Mr. Right, romantic words mean the promise of happiness. The men, reading (or writing) these words with scripts in hand are usually communicating from a foreign country - but not always! The scam artist promises a happy ending after this amazing woman (you) they’ve found by chance on the internet, is the love of their lives. They implore you to send them enough money for surgery, enough funds for getting out of jail, paying off crooked politicians, or for a passport and plane tickets. They promise these funds will lead to your happy ending.

Wrong.

A generation of women were raised to believe life required a man and marriage. There are many who still believe life cannot be complete without love and the man/woman team concept. And having love too! So much the better! These women are especially susceptible to the romance scam.

Of course, there were, and are, always a few rogue women wondering if a man is truly necessary to the quality of life. The romance scam artists can spot these women instantly and avoid them immediately.

But honestly, does any woman hate it when a man tells them how desirable they are and how much they are loved?  What woman hates roses and poetry? No one I know!

Back in the day I wrote romance novels. There is a reason why finding love is the most popular genre. (Statistically.) The prevailing theme is love can overcome all, love heals. And it often does. Regardless of the scam artists, we all want to believe in love and the magic of true love. And we should.

Falling in love is glorious. Falling for a romance scam is not.

 

 

 

A SHORT RANT

 I'm back. An old friend was in town for a visit and I lost focus on this blog. Losing focus has nothing to do with aging, it’s been my problem since kindergarten. And visiting with old friends is always a priority. If I hadn’t been I would have been off on a rant about stereotypes. Like now.

Yes, I read an article on the local newspaper's online section. Seems a grocery store changed the location of several products and according to the the whiner, “the 60 and 70-year-old shoppers were lost.” 

What do you bet all the customers were lost?  Confusion happens with change and most of us get over it…no matter what our age. Readjusting at 30, 40 and 50 happens as a matter of life course. Oddly enough, many of the current stereotypes are based on our parents, what they looked like, what they were feeling and doing back in the 50’s, those folks who would be hundreds of years old today. The mothers who wore “housedresses,” and  dads in their bowling team shirts .

When I see these stereotypes I wonder who the creatives are who staff the advertising agencies. When I read a complaint like above I accept that the “average” person (And I hate the term! None of us are average!) may not be up to date. Still, it bothers me, so I take to the blog to rant.

Read, observe, do whatever it takes to stay current. Living in the past helps no one. Don’t be caught stereotyping. Those of us in our 60’s, 70’s and 80’s are no more lost than most.

And that ends today's rant.

 

 

THE THIRD ACT! READY?

 It’s happening! The day in which aging becomes a positive rather than a negative, applauded rather than feared. It’s here! Well, almost.

We’re living in an aging population where encountering a group of geriatric folks doesn’t mean you’ll hear, “Lock those old people in a closet, Lydia. They drool.”

Not anymore. Now we’re “cute” or “awesome.”

Of course, some cultures have always valued their elders but it’s new to us and it’s different. Our elders are giving new meaning to longevity. These amazing men and women are engaging in the Senior Olympics, the Iron Man marathon, they’re graduating from college on the Dean’s List. What’s the secret?

Does the progress in which we’re now aging speak of a new lifestyle?

What are they eating? Do I exercise enough? Is it true Marjorie Stoneman Douglas enjoyed a shot of whiskey every night before bed? Will doing the same lead me to longevity, a youthful appearance and a young-at- heart heart? Should I adopt the Blue Zones way of living? Or should I move to the Mediterranean? Is it all genetic? Do I need an aging coach?

So many questions.

As more men and women age beyond the life expectations of just a generation ago, there’s an avalanche of articles, books and essays being written and published on the subject of aging. We may not have had many role models ahead of us to show us the way but now we can discover the good, the bad, and the everything in-between as longevity increases.

I’m of the Silent Generation (1928-1945) and frankly, my role models are in short supply. (none) Frankly, I’m surprised to be here! Even to be writing this.

Dr. Louise Aronson’s 2021 book, Elderhood: Redefining Aging, Transforming Medicine, Reimaging Life has become my guide as I traverse the Third Act. This unexpected bonus of life. I’m also studying in a course entitled Neuroscience of the Aging Brain.

Hopefully, I’ll learn strategies required for establishing and maintaining well-being, resiliency and happiness at all the remaining stages and ages of life. But especially the Third Act.

Much like the third act of a play…the Third Act of our life is the resolution. This is the time and place in our lives where we look for the meaning of our lives, the legacy we wish to leave, and prepare to live a meaningful and yes, joyful existence in the upcoming decades.

Becoming a Superager may require a whole new way of thinking. According to the latest research, our brains are sharpest at eighteen years old. (I’m pretty sure mine was not. I still believed leading with your heart was better than leading with your head.) By the time we reach 80 years of age, our frontal lobe decline is at twenty-four percent. We have limits now that have to be taken into account in order to reach Third Act satisfaction. (You notice I didn’t say bliss. My frontal lobe is in decline but I still have enough wits about me.)

I have started making a list (lists are what I do.) What can I not do anymore? What can I do? Realistically, I’m basing my cannot-do’s on the loss of brain power and engine power (our body). What remains will be a substantial foundation on which to build a significant and intentional Third Act. I hope.

Awesome Superagers, the curtain is rising!

 

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Just a short salute to Valentine's Day from an older (and proud-to-be) woman.

 Happy Valentine’s Day to all my friends who woke up this morning and said…”Wow! Another beautiful day! And I woke up on the right side of the grass.”             Or…

“Today I’ll spread my love of life around. I won’t worry, won’t even think about my body’s aches and pains. I’ll be grateful for another day of life that I can make of what I wish. I will sing in the shower, I’ll dance on the porch!”

 Sigh. Even if you've celebrated 80 or more Valentine's Days, don't be bored or discouraged. Each day offers new possibilities.

For decades Valentine’s Day has been the day for celebrating love and romance. We all want love in our lives no matter how old we are -18 or 88. New love at 75 years old feels no different than love at 35 years old. (I know this from experience. It’s giddy and grand.)

I’ve heard many an older widow say…”No romance for me. Not at my age. I’m not going to end up as anyone’s nurse.” 

But maybe that’s a shortsighted attitude. Just maybe, in the craziness of life, one day these same women might find themselves on the reverse, the other side of the caregiver role. They might be lucky enough to have some good, loving man taking care of them, reading to them, fixing dinner for them, driving them to a doctor's appointment. Just saying, it could happen.  

If there is no love interest in your life - throw a Galantine’s Day party, just as special and perhaps even more meaningful. If a party is too much, you can always buy your own chocolate and flowers like the Miley Cyrus song popular now. Another confession coming; I buy my own flowers on occasion. (Hot tip here: When you’re allergic to roses…buy lilies.)

But family love may be the best love of all. Love your family, love your friends, love your life, Valentine’s Day and every day. 

DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS?

 Does anyone know what time it is?  In the 70’s when rock music ruled, the group Boston created a hit with those lyrics and their distinct musical sound. I don’t worry about time so much anymore. My stomach warns me when it’s  breakfast, lunch and early bird dinner time. It’s the day-of-the-week that’s my problem.

What day is it?  Is it Tuesday? Wednesday? Saturday? I don’t know. I haven’t known what day it was since 2019.

This day-of-the-week confusion comes with retirement. I used to know - and sometimes dread - Monday because it was department head meeting day. Tuesday is when I met with account execs.  I could go on but won’t. It’s clear. The distinct difference is a lack of meetings. In retirement, one like-day rolls into another and feels just like the one before. It’s a sad situation.

Except when Monday is a holiday. You know it’s Monday and go to the bank only to find it’s closed. What?

Holidays are not as anticipated as when we were working for a payday. Holidays were great. An extra day off! A long weekend! The anticipation vanishes when we become retirees, however. And then, oftentimes, aargh… a holiday becomes an inconvenience. Even the ATM’s are empty.

The week following the Monday holiday becomes complicated. No one over the age of 68 starts his or her week on Tuesday. Wondering what day it is may be followed by a good cry. Confusion reigns.
         Even with a calendar in every room and on my phone, I rarely remember what day it is. Unless I make appointments. When we get involved, we also likely receive phone reminders on what day it is.

It’s physical therapy day! It’s Mahjong Monday, doctor Tuesday, Pilates Wednesday, lunch with the bowling team on Thursday and Friday a visit to the dentist. We’re on our own on the weekends.

You are not alone if you’re not sure what day it is.

Maybe Sunday?