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!”

 

 

Anti-Aging Rant

 

I stepped away from the computer recently for testing. That is how we spend our days after a certain age - testing. Testing. Testing.

During one of the tests I overheard a conversation on “anti-aging” which gave me chills. Honestly. There is no such thing as anti-aging. Why would you be against the natural progression of aging knowing the alternative? You either age or you pass. (Pass - the polite way of saying “die.” Which of course, we all will do eventually.)

Despite my feelings and a hand-full of other women, anti-aging tagged-products grossed about 44 Billion dollars in 2022, and are predicted to reach 78.70 billion in 2032. That’s just in just U.S. alone. The total planet’s expenditure is staggering. A recent Advdermatology Survey reported women spend on average $877. a year on anti-aging products. Apparently staying young, or at least youthful in appearance, is the goal of the majority of women, with men not far behind.

Obviously, I am in the minority. My total expenditure per year runs roughly $58. 95.  And the labels don’t say anything about halting the effects of aging. I confess to using a light moisturizer after washing my face in the morning.

When I hear…”You look so good!” there is an element of shock to the voice. There’s a silent “but” before the phrase. But How could you be 84?

I cannot brag about my appearance because I have done nothing to enhance it. I have wrinkles and jowls and attempt not to add to the creases with heavy make-up. I have never used night creams or products that promise to turn back time. I haven’t used eye-liner since 1980. My fear is underlining my bottom lid will bring attention to what alarmingly appear to be bags beneath my eyes.  Plus, I standup straight, which sometimes requires concentration.  (Just to be clear, I have no problem with anyone who chooses to enhance their appearance with botox, lip filler or in any other altering way.(Although the chipmunk look is not one of my favorites.)

People complain about Florida’s humidity but in my experience, Florida’s summer humidity is the best moisturizer ever. Most of my life I’ve lived in this very humid state and I’m grateful for that. My mother helped by giving me her fair, English complexion which was a major contribution.

There are health related products which don’t advertise as anti-aging, but in fact are. We all know sun ages the skin. I have used and continue to use a fair amount of sun block. Gone are the days of baby oil and August sun.  A good bronzer and a big straw hat do the same thing without giving you a terminal disease. (And I so love hats!) We’re living lucky! We really are.

Perhaps adding anti-aging products to the medicine cabinet or dressing table, is a woman saying she’s not happy with herself, so if she can change her appearance to one she believes beautiful, her life will change. She will change. She will be happy. But maybe she doesn’t have to change. Maybe she’s beautiful just as she is. 

Please remember and be thankful if you are naturally aging, it’s a privilege denied to many.

 

 

 

 

 

 

PARAPHERNALIA

 Have you started your paraphernalia collection yet?  We collect things throughout our lives; baseball cards, Lladra and Precious Moments figurines, sea shells and baseball caps being among our treasures.

As an aging population in the United States our collectibles are taking on a new look. Staying aware of what’s available to us is a good thing.

Paraphernalia is what we pick up as we enter into our adventures in aging. These are the dodads that make life a bit easier for us no matter how we resist. Obviously the more paraphernalia you own, the more in depth your aging process.

(Let us not forget the aging process is different for all of us. Urged into a “How Old Are You?” game recently, the new acquaintence who suggested the game turned out to be only 76 years old. Just a baby. I won.  We don’t always “look” our age - a more youthful appearance is a relatively new thing - but most of the time we feel our advancing age.)

Collecting paraphernalia often begins with small items at first. For me the first was an inhaler. And then the Pulse Oximeter, a very small item no more than an inch across. A lovely lanyard came with it that I can wear around my neck. Yay. And, I can carry both in a small purse.  

However, there might be larger paraphernalia ahead. Sometimes I feel a bit wobbly and wonder if I need a cane. My local pharmacy carries a large selection, but none with the rhinestone decor I would like. It may be time for me to buy a cane, decorate it myself and have it at the ready. Carrying a cane seems to scream “old” but as my daughter pointed out that might be better than falling. It might be like having an umbrella with you. It you carry an umbrella, it will not rain.  Graduating from a cane to a walker becomes another step in collecting paraphernalia. Walkers also can be bougie decorated to suit your personality.

My husband did not allow me to decorate his walker but among his  collection were a “grabber,” great for retrieving things you can’t reach. He also had a sock pull and grab bars in the shower. Grab bars in the shower are an awesome idea no matter what your age. Slippage happens. We added a shower chair at some point. Also a nice bonus.

Blood pressure monitors, also in my collection now, special electric can openers which do not require continual pressure and jar openers are also popular paraphernalia items. Toilet seat risers, button hooks and extended zipper pulls might be added in time to the collection. It depends. (pun intended)

Paraphernalia items may be purchased at your local pharmacy, at  online specialty stores and by catalogue. I’ve done all three. Thrift stores are also an almost secret source for gently used paraphernalia. Don’t pass them by!

You may not enjoy your new paraphernalia as much as collections in the past, but you will feel safer and that’s a very good thing!

 

 

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!