NEW YEAR...NEW ME!

 I’m getting a new hip the day after tomorrow. I’ll be dancing soon! Not really. I’ve never been a Fox-Troty or Waltzing Matilda type of dancer. Years ago my grandmother gave me ballet lessons in the hope I would become graceful and my skip, trip and shuffle way of ambulating would become a thing of the past. Um. No. It didn’t happen. Still clumsy. But because I am a positive person I’m confident I will be walking totally upright in a matter of weeks.

Not long ago I wrote a blog about the wonderful world we live in and how it can supply us with new body parts. (Any part used every day for eighty, ninety, one hundred years is destined to wear out at some point.) In that same blog, I explained my feeling about my body…as if it were an old car, a little bit rusty in places with tires that are almost bald and a radio that is mostly static - and everything under the hood is out of warranty. I always have known my beloved car is a rinky-dink older model that isn’t manufactured any more, a model that someday might need a new part.

That day has come.

It’s almost like I have clairvoyance. Yes, one of my parts has gone bad and given out. Fortunately, it’s not my engine or the transmission. It’s my left hip. (Not to be confused with My Left Foot!)

Luckily for me, an abundance of replacement parts are available and a handsome surgeon with amazing credentials is going to give me a new hip. He says the surgery will take him an hour and a half to two hours. (Most of my naps are longer than that.)

We truly are living in an era that should working parts go bad we can order new ones. It’s an era when hip replacements are common. We might even ask who doesn’t have one?

I’ve discovered when your hip goes wonky that just walking can be dangerous. I’ve been known to lose my balance…but have not fallen thank goodness - I can still answer those wellness tests, “No fall. Ever.”

However, I have lurched and lunged, winced and bit my lip a bit.

Several weeks ago in order to circumvent any minor tragedy I started carrying a cane to keep me upright and on track. Frankly, my drugstore cane makes me feel old. I need to retire it as soon as possible. I’m convinced that if you feel old you will look old and worse, you will act old. (You will know when you buy your first package of butterscotch candies.)

So while reflecting on how I shall live in this New Year, I decided to only write one blog a week, this month you’re reading what may be the only blog. Taking my new hip for a spin as often as possible will be my priority. When time becomes precious - which it should for anyone my age or more, setting the proper priorities is vital.

Sharing my adventures in aging with you will always be one of my top priorities. So, come what may, I’ll be back in this same spot with another blog shortly. The best way to age is to do it together!

AGING COACH

 An Aging Coach?

Whaaat?

I’m aging just fine by myself, thank you. 

I had no idea that I needed an Aging Coach. Did you?

But just think of all the famous game coaches who have helped refine athletic talents. Coach Madden, Bobby Bowden, Nick Saban, Sparky Anderson, Andrew Bailey, Phil Jackson and the never to be forgotten, Ted Lasso.  (Just kidding about Lasso.)

Yes, there are football coaches, baseball coaches, swim coaches, soccer coaches and just about any kind of coach you can think of, and yet now there’s a new coach in town. An Aging Coach.  A man or woman who guides senior plus citizens and helps them (us) identify and achieve our aging needs and goals. (If we have or need goals)

Transitions can be difficult - especially the transitions we encounter as we age. How many times have you looked in the mirror, screamed and shouted, “Yikes! Who is that person?”

And talk about challenges! We older-but-better people have challenges we never dreamed of having. Let’s face it, help is always appreciated.

Thinking that this new Aging Coach occupation might be another career for me, (I am very old with 80 plus years of experience and I have the chin hairs to prove it.) I have researched the qualifications to become an Aging Coach. And here’s what I found.

There are none.

An Aging Coach is not required to have earned a certificate stating his or her qualifications and there are no regulations to meet. However, if you are truly dedicated to becoming an Aging Coach you’ll find several online courses and advanced education courses that can be yours, usually for under a thousand dollars. If you earn a certificate through one of these courses, you at least have something, a professional appearing piece of paper to frame. (Or you could computer create one.)

Your goal as an Aging Coach will be to offer guidance on the path to longevity and support a sense of well-being. If you wish, you can charge for your aging expertise…whatever price you believe is fair. There is no set price. And it could be a part-time job.

Additionally, you won’t require the overhead of an office. If you have a computer, and know how to use it, you’re in business!

There are similarities in aging that all of us encounter for instance - our parts give out, need a hip replacement? Another opinion and always appreciated - help finding the right surgeon for cosmetic surgery, especially those professionals specializing in lifts for face, butt and boobs.

An Aging Coach can help deal with hearing loss or the dimming of eyesight. You as coach may even help with those coming to grips entering a slower life pace (this can be especially challenging for former Type A personalities.)

The most difficult part of aging might be loss…losing lifelong friends, family and loved ones. In these cases an Aging Coach is the person to call, the one who will listen, understand and care.

Come to think of it, an Aging Coach just may be another name for Dear Friend.

 

LITTLE WHITE DOGS

 

Have you noticed all the old ladies walking little white dogs?  I am one of those. I am an old lady who walks a little white dog. Women over sixty-five years of age simply do not walk Great Danes. We lose some muscle strength, even those of us who lift weights and if even the best behaved large dog suddenly decides to chase a squirrel. Well. Can you spell trouble?  A younger (at the time did not even qualify as a senior) dear friend of mine suffered a broken hip when her German Shepard decided very suddenly to take a different route. And left her on the ground.  

So, little dogs, that for some reason are usually white in color, are the dogs older, wiser women chose. Among the popular breeds are Maltese, Bichon Frise’, West Highland Terrier and the poodle. (Please do not be offended if I did not mention your breed. Shih Tzu. I am a dog person, partial to them all!)

My little white dog is Charlie. He began as a black and white spotted puppy but he is a Havanese and many lose their color as they age. (Sort of like us.) The black has faded away. These days he’s pretty much beige and white. In the past I usually provided homes for rescue dogs but my partner at the time of Charlie insisted we know from the start how the dog was trained. Charlie is a clown and at six years shows no signs of slowing down. He loves to play and he loves to snuggle. He personifies lapdog. He is the best companion I’ve ever had and that’s saying something. I’ve been married three times and been involved in two loving relationships.

In conversations with fabulous older women, I’ve heard them insist that a little white dog is superior to having a husband in our so called golden-years. It’s been pointed out to me that most little dogs are great company. They are loyal. They don’t eat a lot. They don’t talk back or insist on being in charge of the television remote. These sweet dogs warn you when someone is at the door and might very well attack that someone to protect you.

My Charlie has learned to tell me when my phone is ringing…or the text sound blings. I think those self-taught skills qualify him as a support dog. He certainly supports me.  Except when I’m singing. I like to sing around the house even though I can’t carry a tune. When I start to sing, Charlie starts barking. I believe he thinks I’m in pain.

But our dogs are more than sweet companions for our aging years. They reduce our stress, help lower blood pressure, give us purpose, and increase our physical activity…those little walks we take provide awesome exercise.

The next time you see a beautiful older woman walking a little white dog, smile. And the next time you feel like you need a friend, there’s one waiting for you at your nearest animal shelter. Get a little dog of any stripe or color!

 

 

A LITTLE WHITE LIE

 Several years ago my friend Dee called me. “Brittany cut five years off her age.”

Brittany was a sometime actress who had been in our broadcast classes during college.

I thought about it for half a second. “Well I guess that’s what you have to do when you’re in show business,” I replied. Attempting to be kind.

“I think we have to take five years off our ages too so she won’t be thought a liar.”

“We’ll all be five years younger?”

“Right.” Dee said. I could actually hear her smile. “It’s the nicest thing we can do.” 

Or participating in a bit of chicanery.

Let’s face it, women especially, have been lying about their age since the beginning of time. Some using a younger number to feel better about themselves, thinking claiming youth makes them more attractive. Somehow. (I don’t understand this.) Some to land a role meant for a younger woman. And all sorts of reasons in between and beyond.

Is lying about one’s age deceitful? Yes. Plain and simple. But not the most damaging type of deceit. On a scale from one to ten it’s most likely a two. It’s more puzzling than deceitful. Why lie about your age?  Appearing younger is better? Afraid of ageism on a job interview? Wanting to seem wiser than most people at the same age? Or better preserved, if physical appearance is important.

I refused to shave those years off as the actress did. I’m a survivor and have been rather proud of my age and accomplishments. I’d made it through the unkind years. I don’t think Dee had anything to fib about age-wise either. In her seventies, she was still beautiful, still the beauty queen she’d been in college.

We all age differently. Some of us are old, very old at 70 years. Some of us are still working and enjoying life into our 80’s and 90’s. The brain power, the physical appearance, the emotional stability… are all very different. Why? Is it genetics, a life of healthy diet and regular exercise… or that shot of bourbon my aunts enjoyed every night before bed? No one really knows. Yet.

More and more people are living well into their hundreds. (Not the amount of candles I care to blow out. If I had that much lung power!) Medical care has come a long way as well to contribute to our longevity. In 1929 my grandfather died at age 49 because he could not pass kidney stones and the doctors had no way to crush those stones at that time.

Fortunately, because I enjoy it, I’m still working in my eighties. (But at a way different, slower pace.) Over the years I’ve lost some brain cells -- and also some momentum. I would love to tell you that just a few years ago I operated at a genius level. But no. That would be a fabrication. My ego will tell me I was…I am a smart woman. However, in truth, even my common sense quotient, shaky at best in the good old days, is circling the drain more often on the best of these present days. Creatively, I’m on a roller-coaster trajectory.

More changes are coming. (Listen as if David Bowie’s 1972 hit “Ch-ch-changes” is playing in the back of your mind. “Turn and face the strange ch-ch- changes.”)

Aging is a one way street - and steers us mostly downhill. I hope I’ll know when to stop working and just smell the roses. Stop, pass the baton to a younger person and try my hand at watercolor painting. One of my friends is doing well with her canvas thanks to U-Tube instructions. 

Life is full of adventures I might enjoy given a chance. If my ego does not get in the way. It’s our egos we have to watch out for as we age. Our egos may convince us we’re irreplaceable and that’s a lie.

The biggest lie of them all. 

 

 

 

 

FAR AWAY PLACES PART TWO

 In my last post I talked about how much I love to travel. And then I traveled for the first time in a year. It only took 4 different plane trips and a day each coming and going. And crowds. Large crowds. A trip like that could be exhausting for anyone of any age.

I debated about wearing a mask. I have many never-worn masks from the days when masks were mandatory rather than a debate with oneself.  Now I wish I had used the mask that traveled in the bottom of my purse for the entire journey. I came home with a forty-eight hour “bug.”

I know. It could have been worse. I could have come home with Covid. I’m just sayin’, just recommending…a mask for travel in crowds for those of us whose immune system may not be what it once was.

I’m still all for traveling solo, I’ll be traveling again soon. However, I understand not everyone feels comfortable solo. But solos are in luck! There are many agencies and travel companies with a trip designed just for you.

At the top of the list is Road Scholar Adventures. I don’t have experience with the rest of my list but always recommend that do your research. Adventures Abroad for Over 50, Elder Treks, Grand European Travel (an AARP provider), Intrepid Travel and Kensington Tours are just a few catering to our aging population. There’s no need to give up travel if the spirit is still willing!

Faraway places with the strange sounding names are calling, calling me.

 

 

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?