Does the holiday season bring on the blues?  Sometimes feeling down sneaks in and crushes the best of us. So, several years ago I came up with six steps for avoiding the holiday blues.

1) Sing along with the most uplifting songs of the season. (Best done in the car alone, if like me you can't carry a tune.)

2) Tune out nostalgia - hide the photo albums from past holidays and special events. Also essential, avoid those toxic, pessimistic and/or perpetually angry people who wander through our lives from time to time. (Unfriend them if possible, but if they're family members, practice extreme diplomacy.)

3) Smiles! Sprinkle smiles everywhere. A simple smile brings one back to you. 

4) Practice random acts of kindness. Helping a fellow shopper find her car, treating the folks behind you in the drive-thru to a cup of coffee. Little things mean a lot.

5) The Good-Book Getaway. Find a hideaway and curl up with a book which will transport you from stress to magical places.

6) And lastly, dwelling on the past drains energy required for what IS. Live in the present! Enjoy every minute of now...and eat chocolate!

And now I'm stepping away from the blog for a few days to enjoy the holidays with family and friends. Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! And cheers for Kwanza!

If I believed in conspiracy theories, I would focus all my energies on cookies. Holiday cookies in particular. I would point out people and places and ruthlessly expose the culprits engaged in the great seasonal cookie conspiracy. 

Even now kitchens across the globe look as if they were hit by a sugar explosion. Brigades of bakers armed with cookie cutters, parchment, and spatulas camp out by ovens, big and small.  All types of delicious sweets occupy every single inch of counter space: shortbread, thumbprints, fudge, rum balls, and biscotti. It's torture by sugar and sprinkles.

As the recipient of heaping plates of home-baked sugar cookies, candy, and bread guaranteed to put ten pounds on my hips just by inhaling the savory, once-a-year scents...I am begging for mercy. Somewhere there are people who need all this sugar. But not here. Not in my home. It isn't that I don't appreciate the time and efforts of the holiday bakers -- my thoughtful friends, neighbors, and motivated Hallmark viewers -- I do.  I have a sweet tooth, but I have no willpower. So please, pass the cookie plate by me this year. 

I will appreciate your act of kindness! And, hopefully, this year I'll not have to join a weight loss program only because I yielded yet again to the great cookie conspiracy.

A SILVER ALERT

 One of us is missing. The Silver Alert sign is flashing its warning as I drive down I-95. A Silver Alert sign is as frightening to me as an Amber Alert for missing children. It's chilling. The Silver Alert sign means a lost soul needs help.

I keep an eye out for whatever information the sign has given, usually a make and model of an automobile. It's impossible not to wonder who has gone missing. A father, grandmother, a beloved aunt or uncle. And why are they missing? Did they start out to just run a simple errand and then forgot their way? Or, when no one was looking did they steal the car keys?

Is it a man? Is it a woman? Is the missing one new-old, old-old, or a super-ager?

Are they lost in an unfamiliar town? Perhaps they're running away from a rehab facility...in some cases also known as a nursing home. (I knew someone who escaped from a nursing home. The enterprising senior pushed his walker right into the elevator and down to the parking lot where a car waited. He was discovered and recaptured within twenty-four hours. In the interest of full disclosure, I was married to him. Yes, I drove the getaway car but he told me he'd been released.)

    If you have a writer's imagination you begin to worry about the missing. Those of us over fifty-five years of age are encouraged to live in senior communities. Following the herding instinct, we congregate in these villages to feel safe,  to feel as if we belong. We fall into a mostly comfortable, homogeneous lifestyle. Unless something awesome happens.

 Awesome like the 1985 Ron Howard film "Cocoon." A delightful story of folks living in a retirement community who, one day, trespass into a swimming pool containing alien cocoons. The happy retirees undergo a transformation and emerge energized and with much-appreciated youthful vigor. At film's end, some return to the alien's planet to experience immortality -- without family and friends. They went missing. On a great adventure.

Fantasy is fun but back in the real world, the missing silver seniors have not been whisked away to another planet. Facing reality we understand that the missing just might be lost for the moment...or for all time.

November is National Alzheimer's Awareness Month. Johns Hopkins reminds us that there are 6 million Americans living with this brain disease today. And there are fewer than 1 in 5 of us who are familiar with MCI, mild cognitive impairment, often a precursor to Alzheimer's. MCI is characterized by losing things often, forgetting to go to events or appointments, and having more trouble coming up with words than other people of the same age.

Any senior can go missing at any time. It may not be on the highway when we receive a signal. So as we move forward let us answer the Silver Alerts with compassion. And let's support the Alzheimer's Association in November and in every month. We must keep hope in our hearts. 

We owe it to the missing.

OVERWHELMED?

 Feeling overwhelmed? 

If not, just wait a few weeks...'Tis the season, almost upon us again. However, we can feel overwhelmed at any time, overwhelmed by the simple tasks of daily living that we used to accomplish without even thinking. Feeling overwhelmed may be a normal part of this aging process we're experiencing.

According to research our brains are at their sharpest when we are eighteen years old. By the time we are eighty years old (plus, would be me!) our frontal lobe decline is at twenty-four percent. (No wonder I've been joking about losing brain cells. Turns out, it's no joke!) This, in part, is why our doctors and researchers encourage us to challenge our brains daily with games and crossword puzzles. Or work. Still, it's disconcerting to realize that the brain is not working as well or as quickly as it once did. The synapses are not connecting like they used to. Pretty frightening stuff.

Too often we project an image of being more capable than we really are. We don't want to be a burden to our family. It's a pride thing. If you've always been an independent intelligent person, preserving your image, your very identity, means everything. You've made important decisions, raised a family, and traveled the world. Perhaps you've never needed or wanted anyone to take care of you. Even in the worst of times you've solved the problems, dusted yourself off, got up from the floor, and moved forward.

And then one day it all gets to be too much. The respect you've earned by being a capable, confident human one day falls apart in a mega meltdown of tears and self-recrimination. Mistakes made in the past meld with the present, so minor mistakes, like a forgotten birthday or bill payment.

How does it happen? And when it does, what kind of help is needed? Where can you find support, without giving up your independence? 

Maybe it's time to reorganize. Minimize and live simply.

Know that your family and friends love you. They will support you and help you. First, you...we...must let go of the pride and admit that what you could do so easily fifty years ago, isn't easy anymore. There have been too many mountains to climb, too many bills to pay, and too many doctor visits. Most of all, there have been too many losses of loved ones. And now another loss - the person you used to be. 

Your friends who are relatively of the same age will understand and help you in any way they can, even if just to listen. And to share how they are coping with the same aging problems. Start with a friend but don't hesitate to have honest conversations with your family. 

Adapting to the new you...and me...may take a bit of time. Let's be patient with ourselves.

THE "LOOK"

 The "look" that no one wants: "It looks like my grandmother's house.

Oh, my! Oh, no.

I am a voracious reader. I read everything I can get my hands on including those frightening pamphlets in doctors' offices. Although I don't remember the publication, the reading addiction is how I came across the article warning about how your home may resemble your grandmother's house...and if it does, what you should do about it. As a public service, I'm about to share the basic information with you.

We live in the age of modern and minimal, an insight which translates to the old "Less is more" philosophy. However, in a grandmother's house (or grandfather's house - no gender discrimination here), nothing within is minimal. Nor modern. The way a home was decorated thirty years ago without ever changing the decor to this day is a no-no. Are you guilty? 'Cause, it's a step back in time that no one else really wants to take. 

What are the new no-no's and how important are they? Well, I did have quite an extensive list of what not to do but sadly, misplaced it. Probably because I have a granny memory.

But I do remember several suggestions, like, removing the magnets on the front or side of your refrigerator. No. No. They are a dead giveaway you're living in a grandmother's house, living in the past. No one posts magnets on the fridge anymore. They belong in a drawer now with your scrapbooks.

Then there are those baskets of plastic plants sitting on the ledge above your kitchen cabinets. They fill in the empty spaces with glorious (no) greenery between the cabinets and the ceiling very nicely. Unfortunately, they are a BIG no-no. No! No! No! As dust collectors, they work fine, as decor not so much. We are urged to take them down ASAP. (And if the ceilings are popcorn, wow! Another big NO. Take them down too!)

And did you know bed skirts are also verbatim? It's no secret there's a mattress beneath those ruffles, So. No-no again and again. Remove them. Allow the mattress to go au natural. No one will judge you. Well, maybe in a positive way.

Doillies flash an immediate grandmother's house warning. No. No. No. Once the mainly crocheted lacy items were used to protect the furniture in much the same vein as the hideous plastic covers for the couch and living room chairs. (Remember the scrunch when you sat on them?) Rectangle or round, oilies are useless. They don't do much to protect your furniture. 

And then there are the oak kitchen cabinets. Uh, no! Another dead giveaway that you are living a grandmother's house lifestyle. Even if you are a grandmother. Refresh or reface your cabinets. Preferably before the day is over. In the past, I've painted mine in white, but by the time you read this, white or shades of, may already be a dated, no-no color.

Vertical blinds? OMG! No!  

TRAVELING SOLO!

 Why hasn't there been a new blog here in weeks? 

    Excuse 1) Because I did not plan ahead very well.

    Excuse 2) Because I've been battling my first cold in three years.

But before I needed to make excuses, there was an adventure that I'm about to share.  Remember the essays we were forced to write in grade school - "What I Did During My Summer Vacation?" Well, this is a report on what I'd planned to do on my vacation and what actually happened. 

After being relatively homebound for three years, I couldn't wait to get away, out of town, almost anywhere. So I seized the opportunity when I was contacted, making plans to take a cruise with old friends. It had been more than eight years since we'd cruised together and I was so looking forward to being together and reminiscing. It didn't matter where the cruise was headed.

And then, at the last minute, they canceled.

They expressed health concerns but made arrangements for me to share dinner each night with the rest of their family...whom I did not know. For the rest of the nine-day trip I would be alone.

Being an introvert, and a writer who plots in her head while staring into space for hours, I've never needed to spend 24/7 with other people. Still, I dreaded the long trip by myself to places I'd been before.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered several other delightful women traveling alone. Each of them, well over sixty-five assured me they'd been traveling alone for some time and enjoying it. The "Wicked Widows" were great fun. Sisters, they usually traveled by themselves and encouraged me to do the same. At breakfast one morning I met a retired Kentucky librarian and we talked books. For a long time. Loved it! At another breakfast, a lovely lady, originally from Germany, talked politics with me. The folks from Canada were fun and informative too. Then there was the woman from New Jersey who cruised a great deal and gave me many helpful hints.  Of course, the folks I dined with each night became special friends, graciously including me in their family meals.

Totally by accident I made new friends and had a wonderful time. And I learned. If there is somewhere I wish to go, to see, to do...I will. And I will make new friends along the way. I'll no longer worry about being alone. The travel club I joined several months ago isn't necessary any longer. 

When I arrived back home, I arrived sneezing. Because I hadn't had a cold in years (Thank you, masks!) I wasn't sure what was tickling my throat. I took a Covid test immediately but tested negative. So, I caught a cold somewhere during my travels. A small price to pay for the fun I had and the fabulous people I met on my summer vacation. Going solo.

If I can do it...you can do it. Traveling solo is just one way to enjoy adventures in aging! 

 

GRANDMA FOR SALE !

 Did you see the story of the 10-year-old English girl who put her moaning grandmother up for sale on E-Bay? This does not bode well for the rest of us grandmothers.

I, for one, rarely moan--at least under ordinary circumstances. Which may or may not keep me in good graces with my 5 granddaughters. As far as I know, none of them have attempted to put me up for sale. Yet.

According to Research America, by 2030 it's estimated that one-quarter of the U.S. population will be over sixty-five. That's a lot of grandmothers! But they won't be like the grandmothers my generation remembers.

Even today's grandparents are very unlike the grandparents of the past. You won't see many grandmothers today sporting blue hair and wearing black orthopedic shoes, totally unable to breathe in their heavily boned girdles. No, the glam Grands of today have traded up to Spanx, sneakers, and jeans. (Blue and pink streaks replacing the blue hair wash of yesterday.)

My particular generation was born before the boomers and is known as the silent generation. Better late than never, however, the Silent Generation has found its voice just in time to shout the warning -- "You are not as old as you think!"

Seventy is the new fifty.

Just when you thought it was safe to sleep until noon and do nothing more strenuous than uncork the wine bottle, a new breed of medical and social specialists comes along to burst the bubble.

Grandmothers across the country are encouraged to lather themselves in anti-aging creams, color their hair, and urged never, never to miss a day at the gym.

We live in a new era of aging...the land of Lisinopril, Simvastatin, Hydrocodone, Levothyroxine, and Amoxicillin, the top five prescription drugs as listed by AARP. Our daily plastic pill containers hold a rainbow of medications designed to keep our blood pressure, cholesterol, and any pain or infections in check. We are fortunate to have these medicines -- as well as the containers which help remind us to take them. And should we grow bored with Bingo and Skudo there are supplements to boost our flagging memory. Which may or may not work.

There is speculation that in the not-too-distant future, over 3 million Americans will reach the age of one hundred. When we reach that point, great-great-grandparents are sure to abound. And I'd wager more than a few of them will be moaning. Still, moaning or not, I suspect that grandmothers will always be treasured members of most families; treasured for their wisdom, wit, and unconditional love.

Did I mention that the grandma up for sale on E-Bay received twenty-seven bids before the bidding was shut down? Apparently, it's illegal to sell grandmothers.

Thank goodness.