The Sand in the Hour Glass

Next week I celebrate my 78th birthday!  That actually means I have already lived 78 years and will be starting my 79th year.  The common greeting now when old friends meet and share their ages is, “How did this happen?”  Because 78 sounds very old I have decided to divide my longevity not into years, but into decades.  8 sounds much better than 78.   In looking back over those 8 decades, the 8th decade coming to an end next year, I can see purposes  to many of them.  And identifying those purposes is much clearer than remembering  the purpose of one particular year.  My first 2 decades are pretty much the same for everybody.  You are meeting your relatives for the first time and being dragged around in a baby carriage, something I don’t think is used anymore.  The ride was smooth and your line of vision was more up toward the sky rather than from side to side The first half of my first decade was spent in a railroad flat on East 23 rd Street and 1st Ave.  I don’t have many memories of those years with the exception of the little girl around my age who lived in the next apartment over and who I only saw on garbage days when the dumbwaiter was at our floor.  My mom would open the door to the dumbwaiter which was in the kitchen and put our garbage on the dumbwaiter.  That was the only time I ever saw the girl next door and only through the open doors of both of our kitchens.  We would both see portions of the other’s face intermingled with whatever garbage was being transported up to the roof to be incinerated.  And to this day, though I never met her, I remember her name.  Maureen and I only saw each other through garbage and boxes and such.  The second half of this decade was full of new challenges.  My family moved out of the railroad flat and out to the country as Queens was referred to back then.  From a 2 bedroom flat in Manhattan to a big 4 bedroom house in the country was quite an adjustment.  My world was expanding because I could actually go out and play with the neighbors’ kids in the street and  I began school.  I figure those first two decades were for training for what was to happen in the remaining years of decades 1 and 2, that followed, to develop independence, enough to be able to walk the seven blocks to and from school every day.  The learning experience was much wider than just what we were taught in our classrooms.  We learned our neighborhood, what garage roofs you could jump off without any problems, which neighbors gave out money at Halloween and many other valuable lessons.  These two decades were building a foundation for what was to come. Jr high and high school taught us how to socialize with other kids, learn to dance by watching American Bandstand every day after school, and visit friends who lived in far away neighborhoods on our bikes.  So all of that went into the making of my first 2 decades, the decades of learning.

The tail end of decade 2, was scary at first. I was never away from home before and here I was in a dorm room with two other equally frightened new college students.  More social learning took place this time with girls.  Up til then, girls were just hide ‘n seekers, freeze tag players and just boys with long hair.  This was definitely , serious learning time and learning with a purpose, serious decisions had to be made, like declaring a major, whether or not to join a fraternity and which one.  Serious stuff.  It meant serious study too. Focused study on what we thought was going to be our life’s profession.  Then suddenly in the beginning  years of decade 3, graduation arrived.  I was interviewed on campus for a teaching job and was hired as a fourth grade teacher for the following year.  I was in a serious relationship then which would lead to marriage that year also.  This decade was full of adult activities, marriage, buying a house, adopting kids–all serious and wonderful things  The third decade sped by because of all the changes, the concentration on work and kids,  maintaining the house- the usual stuff.Good decades that flew by.

Decades 4 and 5 offered more learning.  We moved to a new house. the kids had real difficulty in school.
Much turmoil through out Decade 4. House maintenance, construction of a new addition -all good stuff but then with the sneaking in of decade 5 everything I knew was about to change.  Divorce and finally admitting who I truly was and trying to maintain an equilibrium in order to function at work and at home with the kids. All of a sudden I  had 35 years behind me  in the classroom and the uncertainty of what was beyond crept into my psyche.  What was I going to do? Would I keep the house now that both kids moved out?  Each decade it seems brings new and specific questions that have to be thought out.  As it turns out, the day after I retired from teaching I was in Vermont working a beautiful bed and breakfast.  Even more than teaching, innkeeping demanded my attention all day, but I loved it.  But inspite of everything the years and decades continued to fly by.  I am now at another one of those life events that are worrisome, interesting and exciting all rolled into one.  

Decades 6 and 7 flew by .  I am soon to be on the doorstep of number 8 looking in with hope and trepidation. The last few years were years of loss.  Friends and colleagues have passed.  We kid that our social lives consist of doctor appointments and funerals, said jokingly but knowing there is truth to it.  I have a large bay window in my living room that looks out on to the street and the surrounding houses. We call it the geriatric section of our town cause we are all over 65.  I stand in the darkness looking out this window and imagining how are they coping with  senior citizenship.  I don’t have any hobbies that I would do alone, I have been looking for adult classes to see if there are some that would interest me, or volunteer work , something to keep my mind off regular life.  Luckily my dog stays by my side and I admit I talk to him as if he were human  Just waiting to see the challenges, experiences and adventures the 80’s will bring.  I’m ready for them I guess!

Forward!

Eckhart Tolle, in his book, Practicing The Power Of Now, explains that there is no past or future, there is only now.  Whatever happened before, happened in the present moment and whatever will happen will likewise, happen in the now.  Because we allow our mind to dwell on the concept of time as we know it, we give undeserved importance and attention to what was and what is to be.  We often obsess with the past because it gives us an identity and we dwell on the future because it may offer us hope or the predilection of fear.  Accepting this belief that spending more time in the present will be logical and beneficial to me, this rejoinder will focus on the present with the expectation that practicing it will enhance my remaining days, weeks, months, years, and, yes, maybe even decades.  

Babette Huges is currently 101 years old and recently published her ninth book.  She says, “There’s an idea in our culture that’s so wrong: that life is over when you get to be a certain age. But your golden years, like mine, can be the best years of your life.”  She also gives 8 rules she lives by that are lessons she learned that contribute to her happy longevity.  I aspire to them all but want to single out two, which, for me helps power all the others:  “Don’t ever believe you’re ‘done’” and “Move your body, rest your mind”

Jokingly, I attribute failure to adhere to the first one as bad math.  That is, those who give up, throw in the towel, and/or admit that they are too old to do thus and so, must have added up some of their reduced, declining, or lost abilities and came to the sum(mary) that there’s not enough left for them to carry on with joy or satisfaction or hold a mindset of grateful living. And to them I say, “Recheck your numbers!  Reevaluate the weight you gave to each addend.  Rewrite the problem so it concludes with a positive sum!”  Following Eckhart Tolle’s suggestion, I would ask as you are reading this, what problem do you have at this moment?  While you’re reading these words, thinking about the concept, maybe even conjuring up an argument against it, none of the problems you believe you have are preventing you from this experience.

If I continue to recognize how much I can do, understand, appreciate, and enjoy while I’m doing it, I believe, even without additional effort, I will have many more of these positive moments eliciting positive feelings, going forward.  If I allow my mind to wander backwards to what I had in the past or forward to what I’ll have even less of in the future…I won’t.

What will I do now to prolong my health, happiness, and value with what I currently have is the question that guides me forward.

The history of how I arrived at this present place in my life is somewhat storied in these one hundred plus blog posts and rejoinders.  It is also revealed to those who care about me through my observable behaviors and actions. The stories and pictures and conversations remembered, are there for the pleasure or information of the viewer but basically serve as a benchmark for the process of how I’ve morphed into who I am today.  However, how I show up today, every day, is how my story continues.

“Do not grow old, no matter how long you live.  Never cease to stand like curious children before the great mystery in which we were born.” – Albert Einstein

Story Stick Revisited

I always enjoy George’s writings – and of course we discuss these posts prior to publishing. The discussions are the best part of doing a blog: having a chance to match perceptions and dive deeper where the writing stops.

His retrospective looking at life by decade is an interesting approach. This reminds me of our attempt to record our personal history in some concrete manner – like our previous post on the Story Stick. I decided at that time to create a record of my life by carving a three-foot cedar log with inflection points and memories. Well, I’m still working on it. But that’s all right, I’m in no hurry with this project. 

If you are going to memorialize your life experiences, there ought to be a basic design first. My story stick is divided into two parts: life before marriage; and that portion after. Before marriage, I was responsible for only myself. Life certainly changed as responsibility for others increased. So, my Story Stick will reflect a simpler trajectory in the first part, but a more complicated journey in the second half, dealing with many threads: gains, losses, and the incorporation of new relationships, but culminating in a place where life’s work is done.

I could have divided this journey into decades, as Geo did… but Eric Erickson’s developmental stages seemed right for what I wanted to explore. If you recall, Erickson’s life stages progress from developing a basic sense of trust; exercising will and independence; learning to take initiative; developing competence and a particular identity; learning to share in an intimate relationship; caring and contributing to family and society; and finally, consolidating what you’ve learned and its meaning. 

Of course, I have paraphrased Erickson and his challenges for each portion of maturation: from Hope to Wisdom. He details choices that we make to trust or not-trust, to fold inward or reach out. I reckoned that a neat idea would be to memorialize episodes that followed his psychosocial stages.

A neat idea – but still unfinished. I’m not going to jump in to a quick taxonomy just yet. However, one early theme is sure. I’m a child of the shoreline. Many early memories have to do with the beach. The first half of my story stick features an undulating pattern that represents waves. At three years old, my mother taught me to dive under the breakers at Beach 109^th Street in Rockaway. When you are three, every wave looks big! Standing stiff will get you knocked down time after time. But you can learn to gauge its crest and dive right under. That skill stands as a learning point for me. Problems can seem big, but engaging them and diving under their energy can help you come out the other side — or learn to time the crest and use its energy to ride into shore. The sense of trust instilled by my parents helped me to learn to dive; it also also helped me to trust myself. Trust is the first big choice.

Aria, by Shahaf Yefet (from allpoetry.com)

Let’s trust each other
and see what happens.
Let’s strengthen one another
and see what happens.
Let’s care for each other
and see what happens.
Let’s make an effort
and see what happens…..