MORE CONVERSATION ON AGING

I lost another classmate this week.  I know at my age, this is to be expected.  We are approaching our 50th class reunion this September and John’s loss makes 25 known classmates that have left this earth.   In my own experience, I have come to believe the first person to die in a relationship is the lucky one.  Family intact, the healthy spouse becomes the built in care-taker, the medical advocate, insurance advocate, and family communicator.  Not an easy road being a caretaker, but it can be more scary facing aging alone.

Most of us do not plan for these times.  My own parents were a great example of this.  Living life, often pay check to pay check, not giving a thought about what the future holds as an “elderly person”, mostly because they didn’t have the resources to plan.   My Dad, who survived my mother by nine years, spent those nine years getting by, doing what most of us do when living life alone after losing a spouse, keeping busy to fight off the loneliness.

My Dad and I had a conversation shortly after my Mother died about his future.  I told him then, that I wanted him to be as independent for as long as he could and do as much as he wanted, but when the time came for him to face that moment where he knew he could no longer care for himself, to please consider moving in with Pat and I.  He did not respond and that was the entirety of our conversation.  As the oldest child and daughter, I took on the long distance role of calling him every day, morning and night (unless I knew he was traveling with his lady friend).  Over time, because of this intimacy in calls, I could hear the changes in his voice and tone, even though his words were, “I’m okay, “ often followed by his activities. 

A trip to North Carolina followed as soon as I sensed something was off with him to discover it was time for that decision.  I walked in, saw his condition and said, “Oh Pop, you know what this means?” as I saw how swollen his ankles were and how out of breath he was with any movement.  I was lucky in that he gave me no fight about moving him up North, and for the last 3 1/2 years of his life, the only thing he had to say about moving in with us was “If I had known I was going to live this long I would have waited longer before moving in with you all.”

That was the total conversation about any end of life arrangements.  I didn’t really understand it then, but now, as I stand alone after losing Patrick, I understand better what it means to face the rest of our life alone, hopefully, independent but still alone.  We don’t want to be a burden to our kids.  We don’t want to cost our kids any financial worries.  As we age, we tend to hang on to what ever we have harder…for those days when we will need it.

But we do a disservice to ourselves and our children when we avoid sitting them down and having the “senior talk.”  I know my brother and I talked about those times long before we lost our Mother and our Dad was alone.  I know my own children have had the conversation since losing their Dad, although I sometimes believe they are throwing dice to see who the loser is that will have to deal with me.  (Kidding of course!)

Next, I’ll cover options…especially when moving in with a child is not one of them.

Next time…

CUSTOMER SERVICE IS WORTH THE CALL

Pat and I  worked hard for our money as most of us do.  From early on in my life, I would get annoyed that a product purchased would not live up to the advertised promise.  Especially items I purchased for my children.  

Pat and I had four children in 4 1/2 years.  Money was tight, and Pat especially worked hard for what we did have, so that made me all the more frugal when it came to spending it.  I took great care at Christmas to pick out one “good” toy for each of the four, which meant I looked for the best quality I could afford.  Nothing got me riled up as much as a toy, built for a kid, not holding up to the normal play that kids do.

So early on, if a product did not hold up, I would call customer care and complain, or write a letter and before I knew it, a new item to replace the one broken was very often sent on its way.  This was a privilege I never abused, but when I did have to call, I also never felt bad about calling.

The biggest return came once when twisting a bottle cap off a coke bottle, the metal tore in such a way that I cut my thumb.  I called customer service to just let them know about the issue, more as a curtesy call than a complaint.  Before I knew it, they sent me a couple of coupons for some additional coke product.  Then one day I got a call from a service representative from Coke.  Was asking if he could come for a visit regarding my call to them.  

Upon arriving, we sat down and talked, he looked at the scar now formed on my thumb and we talked about the how and why’s of what could have happened.  Before he left, I was gifted with a couple of rubber bottle openers, some more coupons and a whole case of bottled coke.

This 4th of July weekend I found myself in another disappointing product moment.  I had bought four 1-pound packages of Dietz and Watson Hotdogs.  A product I buy all the time with great satisfaction.  But on this day, when we cooked them on the grill, it was obvious something was wrong when a slime appeared on the cooked dog.  No one would eat them.  There was one additional package left in the freezer.  I decided to call customer service and let them know something was wrong with this batch as the expiration date was not to be until July 18, 2015.  After a short conversation, some code numbers exchanged, they offered to send me coupons to replace those that I bought.  A thank you both ways, and we hung up.

Once again, I say to you all…if you are not satisfied with a product, call or write.  Contacting customer service is worth the call!

NO MORE GAY MARRIAGE

No.  Today, it is simply—marriage—and all that it brings with it.  Just that simple.  People much more eloquent than I will write about the events that have taken place today.  But for me, today is the first time I believe that we have fulfilled our promise to ourselves, “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Oh, I am aware of those around me who are filled with as much angst over this as those around me who are in celebration tonight. I hear what they are saying, but to be honest I don’t understand their inability to accept the idea that everyone deserves to be happy and to be treated equally.

I am today, thinking of those in my family, who, for the first time in their life, can be treated as normally as anyone else.  The decisions they make in life do not have to wear a cloak of defiance, for today they have won the right to reach for their own Life, Liberty and their own personal pursuit of Happiness.  

As I think of the children who suffer such pain wrestling with the idea of their differences that today, maybe, with compassion and love, the world will allow them—encourage them to grow and become great and wonderful people.

As I think on those in my family, who hid who they were from us, for fear we would not love them or accept them, because society made them believe they were evil…this day is for you.  I celebrate with you!  I and the family have always known what a wonderful person you are, and when you found the courage to share yourself with us, you gave us a chance to show you.  Thank you for trusting us with you!

I am not naive to think that this ruling wipes away prejudice.  Not by a long shot!  But I have lived long enough to see how with time, prejudice can be lessened and we can be open to those who are different than we are.  I dream. I hope. I believe in the goodness of mankind.

SEEING LIFE THROUGH MY GRANDCHILDREN'S EYES

Northwestern Lehigh High School Class of 2015

My second grandchild graduated high school this past Saturday.  High School!!  I remember my own children graduating high school…hell, I remember graduating high school.  Funny how through the lives of our children and grandchildren we see how fast life passes by.  

As I sat surrounded by a thousand other grandmothers, grandfathers, parents, uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters, celebrating each graduate, I remembered the day Dani came home carried by an adoring father and mother.  Her sister, Britney waiting anxiously to hold her baby sister, all instantly becoming Dani’s adoration society.  

Because my son served his country for 20 years in the military, Britney and Dani, grew up in leaps and bounds before us.  Large chunks of time away from us as they lived in various military bases provided a distance both physically and emotionally.  

As I am in the winter of my life and look back through the eyes and activities of my children and grandchildren, I find it hard to absorb all that life has presented to me.  But more importantly how I feel today often surprises me.  My body may be that of a 68-year-old women, but my mind is still that young mother, raising her kids, worrying about their comings and goings, and keeping busy making time appear to fly by even faster.

I have few regrets in my adult life.  I have enjoyed most every minute of it and the time and energy I have spent being a mother and grandmother have fulfilled me in more ways than I can count.  And the joy that comes, when seeing life through the eyes of my grandchildren is indescribable as they are a living reminder of the wonderful life that I have been lucky enough to have lived.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AARON!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AARON

Thirty-nine years ago, on February 25th, it was 80 degrees and Pat and I were trying to push along labour by walking around looking at boats, dreaming of the coming Spring and all the time we will be spending by the shore line of any body of water….him fishing and me chasing kids.  Later that day, my 9 pound, 1 ounce boy was born…our third son, fourth child, making our family complete.  Damian (age 4), Justin (age 2 1/2), Joliene (age 1 1/2) and now Aaron would fill my life in unimaginable ways. 

How is it possible that I have a child who is turning 39 when I am only 39? In my head that is!!!!  This year I will have my oldest turn 45, my second turn 43, and my third turn 41.  This cannot be! I remember living those ages.  Where does time go?  Why does it fly by so fast?  

I was glad that I recognized those moments that filled me with as much happiness as is allowed. I always wanted to freeze frame the time period as it was happening.  I had many of them when my kids were younger…although I must admit there were also those moments where I wanted to give them away to the first person that passed by.  Parenting is never just one emotion.  Ever! Being a parent is the extreme of everything you can feel….Joy…Fear…Love…Hate…Happy…Sad.  You cannot be a parent without recognizing that at any given moment you can be taken on the wild ride of your life.  I remember there were also times at night that I was glad to have put my head on the pillow and not have killed a kid that day.

Ah yes, parenting was tough, but oh what I would give to be standing there in that place again.  

Wait. I do when I visit any of my children’s families and see, feel and hear the craziness that fills each of their homes.  Kids, making noise, with sounds of “Mom….Mom…Mom” filling the air and I am reminded of how tough it really is to be a parent, and me going home to the quiet is good.

I am glad for all of you.  Your choices in spouses, the grandchildren you have blessed me with, and the lives you are all living, fill me with more happiness that you can ever imagine.  Thank you….thank you….thank you!

And Happy Birthday Aaron!

RETURNING TO REALITY

I have another bucket-list item checked off my list today.  For over 40 years I have always wanted to be at the ocean when a good storm would bring up the waves and pound the shore line.  With Hurricane Arthur moving up the east coast, it’s power is being felt in the thunderous surf.  As the day went on, the heaving of the waves, and thunderous sounds of the ocean roar filled the shore community .  

The sad part for the little ones this week is that the fire works they so looked forward to are postponed until the evening of our departure.  But as the evening rolled on individuals up and down the shore line set off fireworks—enough to satisfy anyone wanting to see the colors of the red, white and blue.  It still is a week of wonderful memories.

But tonight, as I stood on the waters edge it filled me with so many emotions.  I enjoy walking the edge of the ocean when the rest of the world has abandoned the beach, but my sense of aloneness filled me in ways I have yet to be able to describe. Everyone has left except for my one son and his family and they are walking the beach searching for sea treasures.  I am getting a glimpse of what remains when they all return to their lives…me.  I have never felt so connected as I was when I was a wife and young mother.  Today I am an observer of what use to be.  Surrounded by purpose and partnership was the most fulfilling part of my life.  Without it, I am lost and trying hard to find a way to accept this and enjoy the days left to me.   

As I look around me  at those who have lost a loved one, and are as old or older than I am, I wonder what they have done in their life to accept this change.  I want to know if the smile I see on their face is genuine or just a mask that hides the truth inside their soul.  

I never believed that accepting the changes in life would be linear or easy.  I miss having that special someone to talk over life's challenges and daily happenings.  I write I guess, because it is all I have to process what goes on inside my head.  Some days it is not enough, but I keep on keeping on!

SOUVENIRS FROM THE BEACH

Happy July 4th!  Today is the last full day of our family vacation in Sea Isle City.  Although,  Hurricane Arthur is playing havoc with any 4th of July plans, the rest of the week has been good.  

Treasurers have been gathered from the ocean’s edge by both adults and kids.  Stones, shells, conch…oh the conch.  Aaron found the first one—and the biggest one—Scott found the second one and Lauren came in last night with one she found lying on the beach.  The conch finds brought more smiles than anything else we have experienced all week.  In all my years this is the first time I have seen them outside of a seaside gift shop.  The colors on the finds have been beautiful too.  

I love watching Lauren stroll up and down on the beach in search of any treasure the ocean releases.  She gets this beautiful glow on her face and you know she is having fun.  In fact, as I write this, she and Honor are at the beach in search of new treasures in the rains from Hurricane Arthur.  

Last night Leighton, my grandson, caught a small shark.  “Did you hear about the man who caught a shark with his bare hands?” he asks with that glint in his eye.  “A manly man”, he says with a smile and then a bigger smile when you finally learn it was him!  

Logan (7) and Ella (5), the youngest of the grandkids, are the most fun to watch return from the beach.  “Look, Grammy!”, they shout.  “Look what we found!  Aren’t they pretty?”  Sand buckets filled with shells and stones, all treasures to take home—souvenirs from the beach!

Chewie spent most all his time like this
on the front porch at Sea Isle City.

There has been laughter—much laughter.  The boys have been the source of most of that.  I do believe true to a man’s form, they never stop being kids.  Friends of the family, Scott and Meredith were here with us in the beginning of the week.  Scott and Aaron, my youngest son, are a duo together that brings mischief wherever they go.  The man next door said to us, “Boy after Scott left it got quiet here.”    We laughed.  Our family reputation is in tack, we can blame it all on Scott, despite the fact that we know who is the real culprit.  

I will be sad to see this time with my family end.  I needed to see and feel my family around me and in today’s world of crazy work schedules and kid activities it can be a challenge to make it happen.  I thank all of them for accepting my invitation to gather together. I hope they all were able to find their own souvenirs from the beach.

CELEBRATING THE 4TH OF JULY WITH PRIDE

The first thing my son Justin did when he and his wife Stacy arrived here in Sea Isle City to join us for the family 4th of July gathering was to put up his Seabee flag.  A pride he has earned by serving our country for 20 years as a Navy Seabee.  

The 4th of July brings to the forefront our family history of service.  I am the family historian and have spent 44 years gathering stories and facts about our ancestors.  Service to our country is threaded throughout our family history.  From the Revolution to my son’s recent retirement from the Navy, the men in our family have stood up and served our country with pride.

I am lucky to have pictures and discharge papers from our 2nd great grandfather George Daniel Pifer, Major in the Civil War, grand father, John Ford, Sgt. in Calvary for the Army in World War I,  and my father, William E Brown, Army, World War II.  Prior to the Civil War we have ancestors on both sides of our family who were involved in the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812.

Along with those mentioned, we have an Uncle, who enlisted and served for both the Navy and Army following World War II, my husband was in the Navy before being injured and retired disabled, my brother-in-law served during Vietnam in the Air Force, my brother served the Air Force and retired after 20 years service, (he met his wife who was also serving in the Air Force) along with his son is presently serving in the Air Force aiming for a 20 year retirement, and also my younger son also served in the Air Force for 4 years.  

We owe it to our young men and women today to weigh carefully the obligation we ask of them.  When so few of us carry so many of us on their back we need to make sure we not only keep our promises to them, but promise them that any time we ask them to go out in combat to serve our political needs, we do it with great deliberation.

Happy 4th of July to all, especially to those who have given their life to enable us to celebrate this great holiday.

OH CHINCOTEAGUE, HOW YOU CHANGED ME

As I sit here excitedly anticipating spending the week down at the shore with my whole gang, I find myself recalling the times we visited the shore as a young family. We would travel to the shore, leaving by 5 in the morning, having breakfast, spend the day on the beach, use the public showers to clean the sand off our bodies, walk the board walk, have dinner and return home by late evening.  

I loved the ocean.  The smell would put a smile on my face as we entered the causeways when the sea air would fill the car.  Growing up in the midwest with small lakes at our feet and Lake Michigan at our door, was not unloveable, but the ocean, oh that ocean.  The power, the smell…the sand.

I loved it until one summer during the Pony Penning at Chincoteague, Virginia.  The ocean had become my favorite vacation spot, (although my husband could of easily given up the sand part).  Friends of ours had a cabin on the bay side in Chincoteague and the only time they did not want to be there was during the Pony Penning so they shared it with us.  It was a memorable trip with stories that we share over and over again, even today.

The first discovery was the mosquito.  They were so thick I believed they could carry us away.  Getting into the cottage was a delicate dance of run for your life while protecting the sanctity of the inner cottage.  Pat went into the cottage, making sure he was in the right position to open the door at just the right moment, not allowing for any mosquitoes to come into the cottage.  I would stay in the van, giving last minute instructions of how to run for your life into the house without getting bit.  On your mark…..get set….go!  Open the door, push a kid out, slam the door, watch kid run to the house, Pat open the door, grab the kid while slamming the door.  Take a deep breath.

Okay, kid number two!  Same routine.  On your mark…get set…go!  Open the door, push the kid out, slam the door, watch kid run to the house, Pat open the door, grab the kid while slamming the door.  Take a deep breath.

Four times doing this before all were safe into the sanctity of the cottage.  We checked around for any mosquito that may have found it’s way in and then inhaled.  We are safe!

In the sunshine we were okay.  Apparently mosquitoes didn’t like sun, but under a shade tree?  Look out!

We discovered at Chincoteague that our younger son had a sleep walking problem.  The cottage was tiny.  A small kitchen, a living room with a pull out bed, and a front porch.  It was located beside the bay in a residential community.  Except for a bar down the street it was very quiet.  We put the kids to sleep in the living room and Pat and I made a bed out on the front porch.  Locking the doors and settling in we believed nothing could go wrong.  

About 12:30 a.m. my husband jumped up suddenly (I didn’t hear anything so his movement startled me), and he went around the house checking things out.  Coming back through the living area where the kids were sleeping he counted heads.  One was missing.  Suddenly he called out Aaron’s name.  No response.  I jumped up and joined in the chorus of yelling out for Aaron.

Outside panic gripped me further as we walked around shouting out his name realizing how close we were to the bay.  

“Aaron!!”, we shouted.

Nothing…silence.

“Aaron!!” once again with more panic filling the name with each call.

Nothing.

“A A R O N”, I shouted as loud and long as I could.

From off in a distance I heard a soft muffled voice come back to me, “What?”

“A A R O N”, I screamed not sure if what I heard was anything.

“What?” came once again.

I ran to the front of the cottage and there 1 1/2 blocks down the street was my younger son, walking in the black of night in just his underwear.  We soon learned that he often would sleep walk if he had to go to the bathroom.  From that night on we barricaded the back kitchen door as if we were under attack.

The next day, with all our little chicks in tact, we decided before going to the beach to take them to the gift shop to pick up a little something they might like.  Spending time in there with the kids was fun and we had some very silly times.  Getting back into the van, heading on down the road, each kid called out for their present not wanting to wait until we got back to the cottage.  I should say all of them called out but one.  You guessed it.  Aaron.  Turns out he was not in the van, so we quickly turned around and drove the longest mile I have ever driven.  When we pulled into the parking lot, there he was standing in the door way with his hand on his hips.  

“Oh Aaron, were you scared when you couldn't find us?” I cried as I scooped him up into my arms.  

“No,” he said calmly, “I knew you’d be back to get me!”

OMG, this trip was turning out to be one of either we were very lucky or there was a message we were not paying attention to.  But the worst was yet to come.

On the beach the final day at Chincoteague, we were all enjoying the day.  Pat was sitting at the shore line with the little ones while Damian, my oldest and I were out to our waist floating up and then down with each incoming wave.  We were having a great time as long as my feet would touch bottom once the wave passed.

Then it happened.  The wave came in and took Damian and me out.  Our feet could not touch bottom and we both suddenly found ourselves doggy paddling to nowhere.  Pat noticed that something was not right but was stuck on shore with the welfare of the little ones in his hands.  The life guard noticed us about the same time and started to grab his floater and run toward us when suddenly the water drew from the beach, lifted Damian and I up higher and threw us to the shore.  Swallowing water and eating sand we made it back to the shore but as I pulled myself out of the water the top of my bathing suit was at my waist and I was bleeding on my chest where it had scraped against the bottom.

From this moment on, Damian and I have a great deal of respect for the power of the ocean.  Today I won’t go in past my shins.  It does not stop me from enjoying the sounds and the smell and those early morning walks along the waters edge before the world gets up and starts their day all over again.  

I know this coming week with my children and grandchildren will charge up my lonely tanks so life won’t feel so empty enabling me to float through the rest of the summer knowing I have a wonderful, loving family.

WHAT IS MY REASON?

In my youth, Hope was the reason I started my day.

Hope for a brighter future propelled me forward.

Hope is why I went to work every day.

Hope is why I made plans for a future.
Hope brought me joy.

Hope got me involved with life and living.

Hope was my reason for breathing.

Hope was my reason for everything.

Then I met Pat.

He became the reason I started my day.

He was the reason I went to work.

He became my reason for living.

He was my reason for moving forward.

He was my reason for laughing, loving and doing.

He was my reason for making plans for the future.
He brought me joy.

He was my reason for everything.

Then came the children.

They too became my reason I started my day.

Children were my reason for getting up.

Children were my reason I went to work every day.

They were my reason for getting involved with life.

Children were my reason for joy.

Children were my reason for making plans for the future.

Children and Pat were my reason for everything.

Then the children moved on with lives of their own.
My reason for motherhood went when the youngest left our home.

Pat, again, was my reason for getting up every day.

He was my reason for giving, doing, loving and laughing.

He was the reason I made plans for the future.
He was the reason for the joy in my life.

He was my reason for everything.

Now he is gone.

The children have moved on.

Hope can be hard to see.

So I find myself asking, what is my reason today?  

What reason do I get up?

What reason do I go to work?

What reason do I look forward to a future?
What reasons do I search for joy in my life?

What reason do I do anything?

If I spend my days looking back, 

then I am unable to see a future, 

except for growing old alone.  

I don’t like that thought.  

There must be a reason.  

I’m still searching.  

Who knows, maybe there is still Hope.

I read this to my daughter and she said, "Mom, I have an answer for you."

"You do?" I asked.  "What is your answer?"

"You, Mom are the reason", she said.  "Simply you."

I'm still thinking on this one.  Don't know if I am enough.  I want it to be...