HOW EASY WE FORGET

Miranda in WDC Woman's March January 2017

How quickly we assimilate change in our lives.  What we take for granted today, like iPhones and all that they can do, just a few short years ago was only possible in Syfy movies.  One of my first jobs in Pennsylvania was with Mauchly Associates, headed by Dr. John Mauchly.  At lunch, he and I would play an occasional game of chess where during our discussions he would tell me one day we would all need computers in our daily lives and even carry them in our pockets, and I would question him on this futuristic thinking. You see he was the co-inventor of the first digital computer, ENIAC and I was just a stupid young person with no vision.  I am embarrassed by the thoughts of those conversations today.

Those of us who carry any age (like me at 70) have seen first hand those things important in our lives one day, gone and replaced by more efficient items designed to make life easier the next.

It can be fun and exhilarating to experience the new innovations that the creative minds among us create and surprising how soon these new and innovative items assimilate into our normal everyday lives.  

There many changes that occur in our lives that soon we take for granted, going on thru the day with little or no thought about what we are doing or how we do it.  This hit me when I saw the many responses from people who posted negative stories with ugly rhetoric about the Woman’s March that occurred after Trump was sworn in as President.  I struggle with the conversations that take place peppered with name calling to express a point of view that challenges the purpose of the Woman’s March or any position for that matter. Since Nixon’s Presidency, the idea of not standing with a President in office to mean you are not Patriotic is nonsense to me.  No matter who is in office it is our right and obligation to question the deeds of our Presidents.  My voice as a citizen has a right to be heard and so does yours.  Also with this right, comes an obligation to educate yourself with the truth.  I know that seems hard to find in these days swollen with an opinion, but it can be found. 

Take the Women’s March for instance. People I know challenged my stand on the Women’s March saying I supported the march just because I hate Trump.  I want to be clear, I do not hate Trump.  I do not like the policy changes he is making, but I do not hate him.  I do not like his bullying that he does from the podium, but I do not hate him.  I do not like the fact that he has appointed people to head cabinet positions that historically have stood against the idea of that department, but I do not hate him.  I do not like the fact that he wants to dismantle the EPA (I remember when we almost lost Lake Michigan to pollution), but I do not hate him.

When men in politics pass laws and create programs that control what I can and cannot do I take that serious. That is why I stood with those that marched. I have witnessed in my lifetime the power of the pen.  What is given can be taken away.  Trump is showing us this by his decisions.  We have become lazy as citizens and forget those who came before us and the sacrifices they made to give us the freedoms we enjoy today.  But when I feel the pressure of the those who want to take us back to “the good ole days,” I get worried and figure it is time to get active again.  I don’t think many realize how recent some of these rights have been penned.  Let me share some with you.

1936; The federal law prohibiting the dissemination of contraceptive information through the mail is modified, and birth control information is no longer classified as obscene. Throughout the 1940s and 50s, birth control advocates are engaged in numerous legal suits.

1963: Congress passes the Equal Pay Act, making it illegal for employers to pay a woman less than what a man would receive for the same job.  Before this, a woman would be paid less for the same work, and even when laws were passed to stop this, the employers would change the title of a  woman's job to get away with paying her less.

1964:  Title VII of the Civil Rights Act bars discrimination in employment on the basis of race and sex. At the same time, it establishes the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) to investigate complaints and impose penalties.  I remember reading ads that said “No Irish need apply,” “Men only” "No Jews need apply" and “Whites Only.”

1965:  In Griswold v. Connecticut, the Supreme Court strikes down the one remaining state law prohibiting the use of contraceptives by married couples.

1967:  Executive Order 11375 expands President Lyndon Johnson's affirmative action policy of 1965 to cover discrimination based on gender. As a result, federal agencies and contractors must take active measures to ensure that women, as well as minorities, enjoy the same educational and employment opportunities as white males.  Yes, an executive order…like any President can honor or undo.  (Remember the power of the pen.)

1968:  The EEOC rules that sex-segregated help wanted ads in newspapers are illegal. This ruling is upheld in 1973 by the Supreme Court, opening the way for women to apply for higher-paying jobs hitherto open only to men.  

1972:  In Eisenstadt v. Baird the Supreme Court rules that the right to privacy includes an unmarried person's right to use contraceptives.  1972?  The right to privacy?  We all take this for granted!

1972, June:  Title IX of the Education Amendments bans sex discrimination in schools. It states: "No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any educational program or activity receiving federal financial assistance." As a result of Title IX, the enrollment of women in athletics programs and professional schools increases dramatically.  We must realize that we women gained from this program also.

1974:  The Equal Credit Opportunity Act prohibits discrimination in consumer credit practices on the basis of sex, race, marital status, religion, national origin, age, or receipt of public assistance.

1974: In Corning Glass Works v. Brennan, the U.S. Supreme Court rules that employers cannot justify paying women lower wages because that is what they traditionally received under the "going market rate." A wage differential occurring "simply because men would not work at the low rates paid women" is unacceptable.

1974: Until the Equal Credit Opportunity Act in 1974, women were not able to apply for credit. 

1974: The first law giving rights for a woman to refuse to have sex with her husband was passed.

1976:  The first marital rape law is enacted in Nebraska making it illegal for a husband to rape his wife.   Think about this….the FIRST law was written…up until this time it was legal!

1978:  The Pregnancy Discrimination Act bans employment discrimination against pregnant women. Under the Act, a woman cannot be fired or denied a job or a promotion because she is or may become pregnant, nor can she be forced to take a pregnancy leave if she is willing and able to work.

For those with Grandparents ask them what they remember about pregnant women in the workforce.  Many my age remember teachers disappearing from the classroom because they became pregnant. A friend of mine told me a story how her job with a large corporation was ended when her pregnancy began to show.  She was forced to quit. She was an administrative secretary to one of the top men and was told it was unbecoming to the company to look that way.  I also talked to a friend who told me she was directly told she would not be hired because if they did, she would just get married and then pregnant and they didn’t want to spend time training her.

1986:  Meritor Savings Bank v. Vinson, the Supreme Court finds that sexual harassment is a form of illegal job discrimination.  Even today, women in the workforce endure many sexual overtones with little recourse for the woman.  It is still hard to fight the “good-ole-boys” club.  Just follow the latest in the news today regarding the Marine Corp scandal.  

Study the above Executive Orders, Acts, Laws, and Court Cases.  These all came because someone stood up for their rights as a woman.  They fought for you and me.  There was a personal sacrifice to all who took this step.  We take them for granted today, but in the face of the dismantling of many programs now on the horizon of Trump's Presidency, nothing can be taken for granted.  Nothing.  That is why marching with women is important to me, for my daughters, granddaughters, and the woman to follow.  Woman's rights are human rights.

I shall step off my soap box now and go in silence to mend this damn head cold!

TRANSITION

I follow a site called “Begin with Yes”…today the following posting showed up.  “The transition to evening reminds us that life is about transitions too. When we understand that this is just part of the natural unfolding, we resist less and become less fearful. Everything will be OK”

How many times have I written about my own personal transition from wife to widow to single and the challenges it has presented, yet feeling lucky to understand and accept the idea that everything will be OK.  That does not make the pain go away.  I know I sometimes have to wear a mask of “everything is ok” just to get through the day, and so do many other widows I meet and talk with.  

When I talk about my reactions to leaving a wonderful event with family or friends and sometimes find myself breaking into tears heading home alone in the car…they nod and understand…for them too, they tell me.  There is always that moment that you leave the group, get into your car and as I have said before when you close that door that sound of the door slams you into a reality of your aloneness. 

I gave a talk a while back and was in conversation with someone who said, “I pretend to be okay because everyone expects me to be.”  She went on to say, “In pretending, I can often get through the day, but it is not real.”  

How that struck me.  We all wear masks of sorts.  Most of us present to others that which we think they want to see and too often it leaves us wanting inside and nowhere to share the voice we really want to be heard.  

Yet, I know it is up to me at this stage to find my own way, to create a new life.  I often feel like I have each foot in a different world.  One where I want to run and explore and start over…even sometimes thinking it would be wonderful to run away and begin life over.  The other foot stays planted in a need to be around the family.  But I am experiencing more that the family is so busy, and their need for me, is gone, and due to time, distance and busy lives getting together is harder.  And it is not unique to me, it is a common theme.  In the community in which I live, the last census taken by the Homeowners Association showed 52% of the people living here are single-home dwellers.  The quiet that permeates this place sometimes kills the soul!

I remember when I first moved here the first thing I missed was the sound of kids playing on the street.  Halloween doorbells ringing with “trick or treat” sounds.  Noise.  Now don’t get me wrong…quiet is good.  But too much quiet is deafening to the spirit.  I need people.  I need life.  I need to move and dance and play and sing.  So I am preparing for a new transition.  I have decided to sell my home and with my daughter-in-law and son’s invitation am moving into a mother-in-law suite they are building into their home.  Privacy when I want it, yet family when I need it.  

This will allow me to have the funds I need to travel.  This will put me in a place where life is still being lived robustly, yet when I need to step in and be in quiet…it will be there (we are soundproofing the place!)  For the first time in a long while I am looking forward with joy in my heart.  This feels good.  I am lucky.  At 69 I am healthy, mobile, still have my wits about me, and have a few years to get in as much as I can before my time comes to leave this place and by damn I am going to give it all I got and see where it goes.  

The next challenge? Thinning out the “stuff”.

IT WAS GOOD WHILE IT LASTED!

Joe Hart, best man, Lucyann Eyre, Maid of Honor, Me and Pat
at the home on Cressman Road where we held our reception.

As some of you have recognized from my last few writings I have been on a melancholy journey lately.  It is because for many in this stage of life this would be a journey of celebration…fifty years of anything would be worth celebrating, but I’ll miss the joy of celebrating those 50 years with my best friend. This would have been the year. 

It all happened so fast.  Our first date in June.  Engaged in August.  Met the new in-laws in September.  Moved to Pennsylvania in October.  Married in November.  So this time of year is finding me looking back and remembering the good times and feeling amazed at how fast the time has passed.  

Today I took a road trip to all the places I have lived since moving to Pennsylvania in 1966.  My first stop was on Cressman Road in Harleysville.    We left Illinois, pulling a U-haul trailer behind my 1966 VW (yes I said pull a fully loaded trailer behind the VW).  We could not travel faster than 40 MPH and that was downhill.  Driving from Ingleside to Harleysville at that speed made for a long slow trip.  Being a new convert to my faith, when Pat asked if we could stop at a hotel about half way there, I asked if he could promise to be “good”.  “I can’t promise that,” he said.  “Keep on driving then,” I said, and we did, 23 total hours from Ingleside to Harleysville.  When we pulled into the driveway, Pat got out, walked through the door with me following close behind, and he turned to his Mom and said, “Take care of Marlene Mom, I am tired and going to bed.”  There I was standing in the doorway, with my new family that I had just met 3 weeks earlier.

I shared Lucyann’s bedroom until our marriage on Thanksgiving Day.  We were perfect roommates.  We both were good at hiding our dirty laundry under our bed.  It was also the place where I began to learn about unconditional love and it’s true meaning.  I was a young woman with not a lot of female guidance from my own mother, so I entered this family like a waif from the wrong side of the tracks.  I learned this when my husband’s grandmother who lived with my widowed mother-in-law, did my laundry and discovered my less than perfect lingerie.  Shocked that I would become a bride with such garments, she grabbed everything out of my drawers and threw it all away.  By the time she thought of what she had done the trash man had come and emptied the trash cans.  

When I returned from work, I was met at the door by a nervous grandmother who guided me to her room and explained what she had done while slipping some money into my hands telling me I needed to go out that night and replace what had been discarded for all I had left was what I was wearing.  

I slipped up to my bedroom and burying my face into the pillow crying with embarrassment, wanting to run away but couldn’t because I had nowhere to go.  This turned out to be a good thing in the end.  When Pat came in from his job, he was told what had happened and finding me crying up in my room, explained for the first of many times to me that when someone does something out of love, I could not get mad.  “If she did not love you,” he said, “she would not have cared.”

Our first apartment was at Pennbrooke Apartments in Lansdale.  I remembered when we got the apartment Nov 1st.  We had less than three weeks to gather the things we needed to set up our first home.  Garage sales and auctions allowed for some good finds.  An old bed from the house, a table from Uncles Bob and Ed set us up for a good start.  We didn’t have much, but we didn’t need much.  We had each other and it was fun.  I remember one night we had gone over to the apartment to set up the kitchen.  After awhile, the apartment manager came knocking on the door with a message from Pat’s mother.  She thought we were there just a little bit too long and thought it time we return to the house.  This made for a good story on more than one occasion during our lifetime.

A year later we found a cheap, $55 a month apartment on Morwood Road in Telford.  A downstairs, one bedroom apartment in the country.  We could have a dog.  It was a small place, yet we had Damian while there and became pregnant with our second son, Justin.  Pat and I actually argued about moving.  Pat wanted to stay…after all who wanted to give up $55 a month?

Our third home was on Trumbauersville Road in Quakertown.  A 3 bedroom rental house allowed us to grow our family that at this time included Joliene.  It was here that we took in our first house guests.  Fresh Air Children from the city for two weeks.  This turned out to cause trouble with our landlord.  They were  black.  He did not like that.  Although we enjoyed having Keven and Michael in our family for two weeks, when the next summer came we were asked by the landlord to not bring the kids out again.  He felt that he was being blamed for having the first blacks in the area and he said if we respected him we would not do it.  It was an awful time for us, for we loved the family we grew to know and wanted them to return to our house.  So we left there and bought our first home on Portzer Road in Quakertown and our first guests were the whole Edwards family.

We lived on Portzer Road for 13 years.  Our family grew by one more, Aaron.  Family picnics, holiday parties, yard sales, and great neighbors made this a hard place to move from.  But when your oldest son could not stand up straight in their bedroom on the second floor (we lived in a cape cod style home with a slanted room upstairs) it was time to move.

We soon found ourselves on East Market Street in Perkasie.  Pat and I knew from the moment we crossed the threshold of this house that this was home.  It took awhile for the kids to adjust to the new school and neighborhood, but the family time at this place was perfect in many ways.  We always seem to find room for those needing a bed and place to stay  until they got  back up on their feet.  In fact, one time we found the kids had put a sign up on our bedroom door, “Boarding House Managers Sleep Here.”  

In the 18 years we lived there we had the following people live with us at one time or another:  Oko (a Japanese exchange student), Little Rich, Big Rich, Penny, Brandon, Tyler, my Dad, my mother-in-law,  Denise,  and Dawn (a woman of many personalities).  The first summer we moved into the house,  Damian’s friend Carl, lived with us all summer causing us to explain to the neighbors that all the kids did not belong to us.  It was a sad moment when I recognized due to Pat’s illness that we could no longer stay in this home of many memories, and we moved to where I am now, a 55 plus community in Buckingham.  

This last move was a bittersweet move.  It was good to downsize.  Taking care of a large home and yard by myself was beginning to weigh on me.  Moving here was a form of relief even when it did also mean that Pat was ill and could no longer do steps.  I knew when I moved in here that this would not be my last home but it has been a great place to be, especially with the outreach during Pat’s illness and eventual death.  

But it is time for me to move on.  I can look back at each one of the homes I have lived and remember the good moments and happy memories.  For this I am grateful.  But, as I once said to one of my sons, "I am not dead yet."  I do have a life to live and I am working to make the best of it. Even when my thoughts fill me with what once was, I know that I am grateful for all that it has been.  

My life with Pat was more than I ever imagined it could be.  And because of our life, I know that if I remain open to all possibilities, it could happen again.  I just have to get in touch with that spirit within me that directed me to take a chance all those years ago and not be afraid.

But damn…it sure was good while it lasted!

CHERISH THE MOMENTS

Cherish the  3 a.m. time in the rocking chair trying to calm the colicky  baby.

Cherish the moment when you have had three nights of interrupted sleep because the baby is not well. 

Cherish the moment when the kids come flying through the door with mud on their shoes on your newly scrubbed floor.

Cherish the moment…when you pace the floor as your teens return home on the minute of curfew.

Cherish the moment when the basement floods but together you figure out how to clear it out.

Cherish the moment when you watch your spouse play on the floor with the kids and manage to break your favorite vase.

Cherish the moment when you find tears flowing from the fatigue you feel because the day was so full and you have not had one minute to yourself.

Cherish the moment the kids are fighting in the back seat of the car on that long road trip.

Cherish the moment your teen screams at you about how you don’t understand.

Cherish the moment when the kids return home from college and clutter the house.

Cherish the moment when your child comes in crying and you are the only one who can comfort them.

Cherish the moment you spend the night worrying about the choices your child makes.

Cherish the arguments you had with your spouse.  At least you were communicating.  

Cherish the moment you felt alone in the house because they were all gone…you at least knew they were all returning.

Cherish the moments you laid your head down on the pillow just glad you made it through the day without killing the kids.

Cherish the moments.  For too soon the opportunity for those moments go away and you are left standing at the door wondering what happened to those days, wishing you could be back there…full of life…fatigue…worry…stress.  For they are days you will describe as the best days of your life.

KEEP ON MOVING ON

I write to process life as it presents itself to me.  Plain and simple.  The other day I wrote about the loneliness found in the aging population.  You only need to look around you and you can find it if you want to.  For me, writing about this loneliness helps me to understand that it is a normal passage of life.  Lucky are those who are the first to die in the partnership.  The first to die still has a family intact, an advocate when you cannot think or act on your own, and most important that someone close who knows when you need the family nearby.  You are never alone.

But once you lose that partner, you stand alone in the world facing most all these moments by yourself.  I remember after Pat died, thinking on more than one occasion, how long would it be before someone found me if I should collapse in the house?  And when I talk to those who live in my community who find themselves in the same position as myself, this conversation comes with lots of I-know-what-you-mean head nods.  Yes…yes…yes….me too is the common idiom.  

And the truth is, there have been occasions here in the community where people have died and it was a few days before they were found.  It happens.  We do not want it to be us…but it could happen. The most common assumption is that having children is a safety net for these things to not take place.  Not so.  Our children are busy living their own lives.  A full schedule makes time pass quickly between calls or visits.  

There is a level of fear that some express when it comes to these vulnerable moments.  I don’t know how you make those moments go away.  I try to fight them by staying busy, but the truth is this does not always satisfy either.

In the beginning of my journey of learning how to live alone, I wrote a poem titled, “Keep Moving”.

Keep moving.

No time to think

No time to miss

the things that gave me joy

So I just keep moving.

Keep moving.

To stop is to feel

I don’t want that now

the pain is too real.

Just keep moving.

Keep moving.

If I stop

I know the pain will take me

to places, I don’t want to be.

I just keep moving.

Keep moving.

A wife, a mother I used to be,

It feels so long ago

What am I now?

I really don’t know

so I just keep moving.

If I keep moving

the pain won’t be real.

If I keep moving

it will be hard to feel

the dark that fills my insides.

I just keep moving.

Oh, what do I do?

A wife, a mother I used to be.

What am I now

in this club, I did not want to join?

A child?

My parents both gone

a child no moe.

A wife?

My husband passed on

a lover no more.

A mother?

Children grown and gone

with lives of their own,

a mother no more.

A grandmother, yes.

So sweet when they are young

but as they grow

I am an old person they know.

So what am I these days?

I float—keep moving along

afraid to stop because

I know the pain will overtake me.

I keep moving.

No desire to stand still

Oh God

please tell me your will.

So many steps ahead.

What could each one bring?

If I keep moving will I

know when it is okay to stop?

Just breath—be quiet, listen, feel it.

A new day will dawn.

New things will come.

Stop moving long enough and

just take it slow.

Who am I now?

I just want to know.

Existing is not enough

purpose has to be the stuff.

Keep opening doors,

who knows what I will find.

Keep moving.

This will buy me time.

I hope the day will come

when I no longer feel the need to run

to fill my time and space.

With some luck

I will find my place.

STOP

Breath—Listen—Feel it

Everything will be OKAY.

There are times this still is my cry in the night.  I am better today than when I first wrote this.  But living alone can still be a struggle for me from time to time.  Loneliness is still that dark hole I feel occasionally.  Not sure of my place in the lives around me can still fill me with emotion and uncertainty.  But filling my time with things to do is all I can do and like that river of pain that flows beneath my soul, sometimes it rears its ugly head and I just have to let it pass through me until I get up and move forward again.  

I also recognize that I am in an emotional place…50 years ago this month I said yes to a marriage proposal that changed my life forever.  50 years ago.  How can time pass by so fast?  How can it be that long?  50 years ago I was starting a new life.  And now 50 years later I am starting a new phase again.  Life.  Passages.  Normal.  And all I can do is remember what I wrote back in the beginning of this new journey…to stop—breath—listen—feel it…and know that everything will be okay.

AUGUST

One always thinks of spring as the time for renewal and change.  Leaving the dark of winter behind and opening up to the new possibilities   But with August sending off the next generation to their new lives through college, work or marriage, we recognize that this too is a time for a change and new opportunities.  

I’ve been seeing postings from those who are facing the “empty nest” as children go off into their new lives and I whisper under my breath….wait…it gets more so as time moves on.  

In conversations with fellow neighbors, who as a group find ourselves in similar settings, watching our grandchildren go off to school, and remembering our own like it was yesterday…many from a distance feeling more and more out of touch with what is going on in their daily lives.

You are a part of their life as they see it…but not as we see it.  We sit in a corner, distant from their everyday. I remember the shock when Grammy Ford thanked me for inviting her and Uncles Bob and Ed into their lives.  I was stunned by the comment.  We always felt their presence even when we were not together.  I didn’t get it then.  I do now.  For it is true.  Children once grown and gone either invite you into their life or keep you at bay…inviting you only when it is time to celebrate one thing or another.  

Poolside conversation by fellow neighbors (a 55 plus community) find many of us feeling the same distance and not sure how we feel about it all.

Loneliness is the theme of many here.  What does it take for someone to step outside of one's door and develop a life not associated with family.  Making new friends takes hard work, and not having the comfort of familiarity and history adds to the loneliness and feelings of being disconnected.  Even the couples here in the community express similar feelings.  Add the loss of a spouse and those feelings get magnified.   These are normal passages I am sure.  There are too many around me that I see expressing the same kind of feelings for it not to be.  

There is one woman in our community who is very sensitive to these wails in the night and sets up all kinds of activities and gets frustrated when those she hears cry out for friendship and family not take advantage of what is presented…but then depression can do that to you.  Make you feel that you don’t have the energy to step outside and face the world and work at making new relationships.  

There is a song written by John Prine and made famous by Bette Midler, called “Hello in There” and the chorus goes:  

“Ya' know that old trees just grow stronger

And old rivers grow wilder ev'ry day

Old people just grow lonesome

Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello”

WHAT’S NEXT, con’t

Back in June, I had indicated that I was thinking about what remains in life, where do I go, how do I get there and what do I do to make it happen.  Traveling is high on my list.  How to afford that when traveling alone has a surcharge…imagine.  A penalty for having no one in your life.  An odd thought really.  

Anyway, a friend shared a website called “TrustedHousesitters.com”.  Travel anywhere in the world and your lodging only costs your attention to the house and animals left by the owners.  Not a bad tradeoff.  

The other list of things to check was where to go to downsize both physically and financially.  This has been what has taken up a lot of my time…getting an education about what is next.  I am glad that I looked into this now while I am of sound mind and body.  To deal with this later in the game means the kids would have to step up and take over and the issues that can arise for them can leave lifetime amounts of guilt…something I don’t want to create for them.

So I went searching for independent apartment living.  Pennsylvania is a wonderful state to live in for seniors.  The county has a Department of Aging that provides information that at first can overwhelm you.  Here is what I have learned in this journey as a senior living alone.

First, there are two kinds of institutions out there….for profit and not-for-profit.  When considering entering one of these, know that they look at your financial status and in most cases won’t accept you if you do not possess enough money to carry you through their statistical time period of needing assisted living.  So if you live and die suddenly…this is good.  If you live and go from living to nursing home care, this too is doable.  But if your life finds you needing long term assisted living, well, let’s just say this is the part that will drain your bank faster than water over a damn.  And although these senior institutions don’t want to kick you out due to lack of funds, they will.  

Now some have a benevolent society within the institution, but if your needs go beyond what they want to carry, you will be asked to leave the facility.  Good luck family!  In some instances, an application for financial need can be exercised but in these cases, the senior needs to be destitute. 

Let me share a story of a women I met and talked with regarding an incident with her father.  Her mother had died when she was a young women.  Her father never remarried.  Living a bare bones life his senior years found him barely making ends meet.  No pension…no savings…just social security and even that did not keep up with inflation over the years making it impossible to live on his $900 a month.  She and her husband built an in-law suite in their home and for over 15 years they lived compatibly together.  The father had put the daughter’s name on his checking account…just in case.  Over the years the son-in-law would do odd jobs for his neighbors or friends and would stick some of the money into his father-in-law's account to allow for those needs of the father without him having to ask for help.

So it went until Dad had a stroke.  With the daughter and son-in-law both working, they were forced to place Dad into an assisted living facility where they immediately applied for financial aid.  Accepting him based on what they showed as Dad’s income, and sure he would qualify for help, they waited to hear that everything would be okay.  Protocol for the financial aid is to do an audit of the financial status of the senior requiring help.  The shock came back to the daughter when the facility phoned her to say their Dad did not qualify because the audit showed that he had $75,000 more than they indicated during the time period prior to entering the facility.  The daughter tried to explain it was their money in the Dad’s account and the reason they put the money into the checking account was to allow Dad the freedom to care for his needs without having to ask for it from her.  

The facility said this money had to be counted as the Dad’s unless they could prove it was their money.  Now forced to hire a lawyer the facility said those items that were deposited as checks showing the son’s name could be subtracted from the amount on the table, but those monies placed into the account as cash would remain on the table as Dad’s, so now they had to pay the facility $32,000 and again Dad was not eligible for aid.  They were forced to withdraw their father from the facility, take out a line of credit against their home and repay the facility the amount owed for Dad’s care.

Stories like this remind us what hardships can occur when we linger our senior years in a disabled condition needing assistance but not nursing care.  

Talking with this young women helped me solidify my own decision on where to go next.  

More to follow…..

WHAT'S NEXT?

One would think as we age, life would be easier to navigate.  Life experience does bring wisdom, but aging can bring events into our life that we have not experienced, proving that living life at any stage can bring new challenges.

As I look around the neighborhood (a 55 plus community or active adult community as they like to be called) I can see the future.  Like a train coming at me in a tunnel, there is no escape…at some point, I will be slammed just like others before me.

The one thing I am determined to do is to live and not be a financial burden to my children.  I hear them say to me, “Mom, don’t worry about not spending your money…live and have fun.”  Inside I am thinking right…wait until it is time to change my diaper!  There is a joke circulating that reads:  Does anyone know why baby diapers are called Luvs & Huggies while old people diapers are called Depends?  Cause if a baby craps in their pants, you are still gonna Luv'em & Hug’em. If an old person craps in their pants, will they still be Luv'ed or Hugged? That "Depends" on who's ass is in the Will.”  We old folks may laugh at this one but I have not heard anyone tell this joke without hearing a chorus of “ain’t that the truth” following.

So I am exploring the “what’s next” in my life.  I am proud of the fact that I am living and doing what I am doing at this stage.  My husband was uninsurable since he was 36 due to medical conditions so there was not a large life insurance policy to pad my aging days.  What I am living on is what we together saved during our working years.  With wise advice and prudent spending habits that allowed us to enjoy life and still save I am lucky.  But with my health being good, and money not easy to grow, I must maintain the balance in my life that I have always lived in order to continue my independence.

Like many I am sure, I feel out of sink with the world.  I’m 69 and still full of spunk and a desire to wander around and see a few more things before I can’t.  As I see it, I have about 8 to 10 good years left in me that I can do these things without any physical handicaps.  And because Pat and I were “cheated” out of those opportunities by his illness during those “empty nest” years, my desire is strong.  But few my age are as wanderlust as I am.  They have already traveled….gone places….done things…they are content with a trip nearby and hanging around home.  I get that, but for me, that means traveling alone and a higher cost for a trip.  So that being said, how do I make my money stretch so as not to be a financial burden to my kids and still enjoy my days doing a bit of what I want to do.

 So, I begin the journey of looking to downsize.  These decisions are not easy and cannot be addressed in one writing.  I am discovering it can be very complicated and VERY expensive.  I cannot imagine as the baby boomers fill the senior spaces available how competition for the limited opportunities for seniors will only increase what is already a pricey adventure.  No wonder I see so many around me still working to make their money stretch.  

So my first thought is, do I want to get a part time job to make my money stretch?  But then that really limits my ability to travel and seems to defeat my goal.  So staying here and working does not seem to be the place I want to go to first.  

When I let it be known to my kids what I was thinking I had one son who offered up his place with a willingness to install a mother-in-law apartment in their home.  A possibility.  But I worry that the one that gets me gets me until the end.  I was thinking about the 3 that have settled into homes and their lives.  All of them got a helping hand, even if a small one, in some way when they bought their first home.  I worry about my daughter, who alone in life does not have a working partner like the others have had…and part of me would like to provide that helping hand to her like the others got.  So “moving in” with one has some positive opportunities.  But before I make my final decision, I shall explore other “senior” possibilities.

I’ll let you know what I find!

IT FEELS GOOD!!!

Looking in the mirror as we age can be a challenge.  When I see a photo of myself it is different in my eyes than when I look in the mirror, phenomena that we all experience.  I think of my sweet mother-in-law when she attended her 50th high school reunion at Trainers Restaurant.  She walked in past the ballroom where a crowd had gathered, stopped at the reception desk and asked where the 50th high school reunion was.  Pointing to the ballroom she just passed, he said, “Right in that room Ma’am.”   “Oh no,” she replied, “that can’t be, they are all old people in there.”  

I have a question.  When you run into someone who is your age, do you find yourself thinking, “I wonder if I look that old.”  Me too!

I am discovering that losing weight at this time of my life is different too.  I am not doing this because I want to look “beautiful”.  The mirror tells me that every time I see the lines, the sag, the fact that I can slap you silly with my saggy breasts.  The mirror is not my friend at this stage of my life, but it has made me realize that it is what I am feeling that counts these days more than how I look.  

It also begs the question, if I can feel so good going down in weight, why does that leave us when we are going up.  Is it all in the head?  I am sure some of it is.  But when I can walk up a hill and not drag for breath, it feels good.  When I can stop eating before I hit the bloat stage…it feels good.  My spirit is lighter with each pound I have lost and not because I look young and beautiful but because I feel young and energetic.  

I am now ready for those road trips in life.  Those things I want to do are now possible because I can walk without pain, sleep without pain, be physical with pain…okay that last part may be pushing it, but I am once again realizing that I can do anything I want within reason.  Having a 69-year-old body does have its limitations!

My weight loss journey is still a journey I am embracing…it is working and I feel good.  At this writing I have entered a place I have not experienced in over 20 years.  For those who have inquired…I’ll keep you up to date on my journey…no matter where I end up.  For now, it just feels good and I want to hang on to that!!!

GIVE BACK MY COUNTRY?

Life is messy.  It has always been messy.  But being messy is not bad.  It means we spend a lifetime of accepting the change that occurs…always, hopefully, trying to make it better than it was.  So this begs the question, what does it mean when I hear someone say they want their country back.  I wonder, back from who?  Back from what? 

The phrase, “give me the good ole days”, always sets me off.  For me, these are the good days…not the 40’s, 50’s 60’s….not even for a second.

I remember those days as everyone having a place in society and severe consequences if you broke society rules or was not born the right color or in the right place.  If you are a white man, who had money in his pocket, you do miss those days.  But for everyone else, life was a struggle.  Women who were being beaten in their marriage, kept it quiet and hidden because the choice was to be out on the street without any support system to help them get back on their feet.  

A woman pregnant out of wedlock?  You had hell to pay.  Often sent out of town for the duration of the pregnancy or get married immediately, even while in high school.  Forever branded, few had second chances at life.

Sexual abuse as a child?  Hide it.  Don’t raise a fuss.  After all, if you did tell, it was often the victim who suffered the consequences of the reveal.  Few times did the perpetrator ever get punished.

Women who had a “reputation” were in the end shunned and scorned.  But the men who played this game were treated as heroes in the conquest game.

Married outside of your faith?  You would often be thrown out of the family for such disrespect.

Were you gay?  Who knew?  Gay men and women were buried so deep in the closet they could hardly be found.  Overhearing a conversation a while back, I heard, “I didn’t realize there were so many gays.”  

Marry a person of a different color?  Forget it, you were often driven to live in the big cities where at least you had a chance to live without harm. Have children? They were the ones who suffered the name calling and bullying.  Acceptance in our society was difficult at best!

Life has always provided opportunities to challenge what we believe.  The moral choices that we made today can seem a no-brainer, but at the time, it was painful and a struggle to accept the changes it brought.  

I remember the 60’s and early 70’s when our country was in a state of upheaval and we all wondered where it would all end…would we survive…would there ever be peace again?  Free love and drugs would prove to have consequences…eventually we learned.  We grew up.  

I am glad to have been born in the United States of America where we have struggled since we accepted the Bill of Rights and our Constitution, to honor “where all men are created equal”.  It is not always easy.  Fear makes us do strange things.  Hard choices make us want to retreat into what is familiar.  Strangers can sometimes scare us until we stop and get to know each other… man to man…woman to woman…child to child and recognize in others that which is in ourselves.  

I don’t buy the cry, “Give back my country.”  We have it now.  This moment.  And it is our responsibility to always carry the torch where all men are created equal so we can live in a world where all are treated equal and with respect.

You can have yesterday if you want it…but give me today.  I am happier here in the now!

ALL OF US HAVE A STORY!

I just finished watching the final episode of this season of Finding Your Roots.  I love this show.  It confirms what I have always believed.  It is not enough to know just the names of your ancestor’s.  It is more fun and meaningful to know the story of your ancestors and this is why Memoir writing is important to me.  

When I was a young wife and mother-to-be I began to recognize how the impact of moving to Pennsylvania from Illinois would have on my children and their ability to know me through my own upbringing.  My husband’s family had already demonstrated to me that get-togethers were full of stories of past memories, filled with laughter and lots of love.  I recognized also at the time, that although I was running from my own childhood memories, I did turn out okay and there had to be a reason for that too, so while pregnant with my first child, I decided to collect the stories of my family and so began a life-long journey of learning through stories shared of who my family were.

It was the best gift I could have ever given to myself.  In asking questions of my grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins, I learned that all that I perceived through life was not as it was felt and, in the end, it became a healing experience.  For in searching for the stories of who my family were and how they lived I learned that what I was feeling from them had to do more with their own experiences than what I had done to experience a negative moment from them.

I have watched time and again the celebrities express a longing about why their own parents had not shared this or that piece of family history only to discover they may have suppressed the information to hide from their own pain.  Once the story is revealed to them the level of understanding that sweeps over them often fills them with a strong emotional reaction.  

All of us have a story to tell.  Decisions we make can leave a lasting impact on those we love for generations that follow.  When the truth behind those decisions is revealed it can change the impact left on those left to deal with the outcome of those decisions.  

Funny…how we keep things close to the heart on the pretense we don’t want to hurt anyone, but the truth is we are just unable to deal with the pain of some of that reality ourselves leaving the generations that follow to puzzle the why of things.  

As I watched Dustin Hoffman and Mia Farrow in this last episode all I could think was how the truth can set you free.

SAYING GOODBYE WILL NOT BE EASY

December 12, 2006
Garrison and Me

Garrison Keillor is retiring.  I am sad.  I knew it was coming.  When I saw him live at Avery Fisher Hall he announced to the audience that at age 72 (at the time) he was putting a date on his retirement.  The audience groaned in unison.  But the time is coming this summer and all I can think is what will I do on my Saturday nights!!! 

Sitting with a glass of wine on the deck, or driving home from babysitting the grandkids, you would find me in that land of Lake Wobegon, Minnesota listening to the live radio show, singing songs, sometimes shedding tears, but always….always having a good laugh.  

I have had the pleasure of seeing his radio show, Prairie Home Companion, on four different occasions during my lifetime.  Each one unique but enjoyable beyond description.  When my daughter worked for the New York Philharmonic, her position always got me a trip backstage into the green room so I could shake his hand and tell him what a joy he has been in my life.  This humble man was never full of himself and I always felt he was embarrassed by the praise, whether it came from me or the ones who came before me, he was always thankful for your kind words.  The first time I met him I said to him,  “I spend more time with you on a Saturday night than I do my own husband.”  He laughed.

My daughter arranged for a picture to be taken of the two of us at my first ever meeting with him.  My nervousness got the best of me as I went up to his side and put my arm around his waist.  Not realizing that I was  grabbing the fat roll around his waist, I suddenly got red in the face as he leaned into me and said, “You get real friendly!”  Stumbling over my words and laughing like a giddy school girl, it was a moment I will never forget.  He was a kind gentle giant who I feel honored to have met (and squeezed).  

During the last performance, I saw at Avery Fisher Hall, sitting in the VIP box, overlooking the audience and the stage, laughing so hard at his stories, I kept trying to keep in check my exuberance.  When intermission came, a staff member came up to me and said, “Mrs. Ford, the staff is worried that you are not having a good time at the show!”  I laughed and then worried I was being too loud.

“I’m sorry, was I laughing too loud?” I asked.

“Oh know,” he said.  “We enjoy hearing your glee!”

Another part of aging is learning to say goodbye to those things you have loved and enjoy.  This will not be an easy goodbye for me.  Oh, how I will miss those wonderful words,  "Well, that's the news from Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average."

THE ICE MAN MAY COMETH…

I’ve been away to the mountains of Pennsylvania, helping a friend recover from a bad spill and the following surgery.  With her son coming in today to take over her care for a bit, I am hoping after picking him up from the airport, to come home. 

Coming off the mountain though will have some challenges if the weather prediction holds up.  We are to have some brief snow showers.  Not a great accumulation but enough to create icy conditions on the roads.

Funny how time, experience and location can change one’s perspective.  I grew up in Northern Illinois where snow was just a hiccup in the days plans.  Nothing was ever cancelled unless you couldn’t see the hand in front of your face during the storm.  Slip the snow chains on over your winter tires and you were good to go.  I don’t ever remember school being closed for snow events.  But I do remember some fun rides with our school bus driver as he made some interesting turns on our lakeside roads!

When I got my driver license, my dad said to me, “Come on girl.  You and I are going driving.”

We got in the car and he directed me to drive out onto the frozen lake.  That was not so unusual around us as our lakes would freeze over and we often saw vehicles drive out onto the ice, pulling their ice houses for a winter of ice fishing.  

So off we went, onto the lake.  “Now step on the gas,” my dad said.  “No faster,” he continued.

So I did.  Suddenly he reaches over with his foot and slams on the breaks forcing our car into a tailspin.

“Turn into the spin!” he yelled.  “Turn into the spin!”

We must have done that five or six times before I could catch my breath and we stopped.  “Now,”  he said, “you will be able to drive anywhere anytime because you will instinctively turn into the spin, stopping the spin.”  

In all the years of my driving, I never used that technique but once…a patch of black ice in the wee hours of the morning as we headed down to North Carolina for a family visit.  Thank you for the experience, but I hope to never have to test my skills again.

So here I sit, looking out the window onto the gray skies hoping against hope, that the flurries won’t bring the icy conditions forcing me to cancel my trip home.

As a friend reminded me in a message sent this morning, “Don’t take any chances with the weather.  Home is not going anywhere.”

So I’ll plan with flexibility in mind…

THE BUMPY ROAD OF AGING

Aging can be a bumpy road.  As I watch and help my friend through her latest crisis…the first one she finds herself alone in after losing her husband, we share a lot about this time of life.  I have mentioned in the past that I think the first one to die in a relationship is the lucky one.  To be surrounded by your life partner, family or friends is a wonderful thing.

But when that partner is gone, there is a dynamic shift in one’s life.  Children are no guarantee that someone will be with you in the hour of your greatest need.  Especially in the society we live in.  

But as I hover here and watch my friend, I recognize another lesson in life.  Be flexible.  Keep up your humor.  And find gratitude in those that do step up and give you assistance.  

Living in the community in which I do, I see those that are cranky beyond description, and it makes it hard to help someone like that.  No matter what is done for them, it is not enough.  Or they complain that this or that is not satisfactory.  Eventually, anyone who steps up to help drifts away, frustrated because no matter what is given it is never enough.

Then there are others, like my neighbor and friend, whose gratitude sweeps you up and without burdening just one, each friend carries a small load, so it does not feel like a load at all to those who help.  Both have a great sense of humor and can laugh at themselves while doing their best to push ahead with their own situation filled with acceptance and gratitude.  

I once said to my daughter-in-law Kelly, “When I get old, if I become cranky, unreasonable, and hard to deal with, you can put me in a room and lock the door!”  Without missing a beat, she responded, “Would you please put that in writing!”  So I did.

“Dear future Marlene,

If you are reading this letter, it is because one of your children have approached you and said it is time to give up driving, or move in with someone, or go to a place where you can be watched…and you are probably saying no not yet…well, it is time to put your big girl panties on, put a smile on your face and be grateful that they care enough to look out for your wellbeing.  So do as your are told, please.

Love,

Past Marlene

PS:  Just in case you doubt this suggestion just remember the problems you encountered with your cranky friend.”

I mentioned this note to my son and his family while at dinner with them one night…when a phone call came in.  I took it and then immediately forgot about it.  A while later, Damian asked, “Who was it that called Mom?”  

“Called?  I don’t remember anyone calling”

“Mom,” he said with a shock, "you just got a call 20 minutes ago.”

I had to stop and think, and couldn’t remember the call.  Then suddenly it came to me…”Oh, that call!” I said laughing.

My granddaughter Honor turned to me and said, “Gram, do we have to get that letter out already?”

Yes, aging can be a bumpy ride, but we can still laugh our way down the road!

I HATE VERIZON!

There is one word that I try hard to never use in my vocabulary.  That word is “HATE”.   I’ll walk away from something or someone before I get to that point.  I believe that I am a person who carries a great deal of empathy for those that are not like me, or travel to a different drummer.  But when it comes to Verizon, they have made me cross that line.  I HATE Verizon.  Let me share my story.

Eleven years ago, when we moved to our present home, we paid Verizon over $300.00 to install some extra phone lines into the house.  Our computers needed them.  Our television needed them.  And with Pat’s illness, I needed access to a phone in multiple rooms.  Over time, the phone line began to act up.  Every time a Verizon technician showed up, they one by one dismantled all the phone lines that we paid to install, saying that the lines were soaking up moisture and that was what was causing the static in the line.  By the end of that particular journey, we ended up with just one working phone line and a new satellite phone system.  

In the mean time, when the internet line was affected, that too became dismantled and instead of replacing the line under the house, Verizon technicians ran a line outside, laying it on the ground next to the house, drilled a hole in the back wall and ran it through the wall.  Now I questioned this and was upset that they treated my home like trailer trash, but to no avail.  Only after I got crazy with them on the phone, did they come and hook the line every couple of feet onto the side of the house, getting it off the ground.  I know you are asking, but laying outside in all the weather….this too wouldn’t absorb the moisture?  Yea, I asked that too with no answer.

Eight years later into this saga, my husband died.  So began the attempt at getting the account turned over to my name.  Sweet talking voices on the other line, said sure, we can do that, but bill after bill would continue to come in with my husband’s name.  So recently, after my frustration level with the DSL of Verizon, I decided to end all my services with Verizon except for my wireless which I have six months before I can change that service.  This decision ended my “One Bill” program where my wireless, my home phone, my internet and my Direct TV were billed in one bill.  

The morning brought an email that said, my account was ending and that I would have a credit of $68.95.  The same day, the mail came with a bill, showing I owed $99.99, indicating my wireless bill of $60 and an internet service of $39.99.  So I called to clear up the matter and undo the confusion of having a credit, now owning $99 and making sure the internet service was taken off as that was one of the services I canceled, and yet making sure I paid for the wireless part that I was keeping.  (You confused yet?)  While trying to get through to a voice, I get the message that my account is closed and that I owe $0 on a bill.  Now all this is happening in the same day!!!  Is it a credit?  Is it $99.99?  Or is it $0?  At this point, your guess is as good as mine

After waiting 40 minutes online for a real human to speak with, I ask them to look into the question of the internet service and making sure I do pay for my wireless…and oh yes can’t the credit be applied?  And by the way, can I now get my name on the account?  Oh sure, said the voice on the other end.  So after waiting, and waiting, I was told all was taken care of, no internet, only wireless, and finally an account in my name.  I hung up the phone expecting to receive a confirmation of the $60.00 I owed for my wireless.

Soon I get an email, confirming all the changes and showing me that I now owe $83.59 for my wireless.  $83.59???????  What happened to the $60?  So once again I get back on the phone, another long wait, I finally get a voice and I ask why am I paying almost $25 more for what I was paying $60.00 for?  By this time, I am not being nice.  I told them “I will not pay any more than the $60.00 that I….yes I…signed up for.  So fix it!”  Well, some song and dance about the account change the closest they could get me was the $60, plus some taxes making it almost $70.00 a month.  Tired, and frustrated by this point I gave in.  I was told the credit check would arrive separately.

You know the old saying “To ASSUME makes an ASS out of U and ME?  Well, I assumed the check would come in my name…I mean after all we talked about Pat being dead. I could not be more wrong.  A few days later, the check arrived, in my dead husband’s name.  Now he is gone going on 4 years now, so there is no way to cash this check.  

Once again, I call.  I wait.  When getting a voice, I say, "I need to speak to your supervisor as they will be the only one who can help." (I am hoping.)  They refuse to pass me through until he has a chance to help me.  I proceed to tell him the long tale.  He asks me, “Have you not tried to put the account in your name before this?”  

To say I lost it on the guy is an understatement.  I am not proud of how crazy I got.  I am pissed that Verizon and their poor customer service took me to this point, but after some screaming and yelling and demanding and scolding, and yelling some more, the man finally, after another 30-minute wait, put on a supervisor.  

Once again, I went through, with teeth gritting, the whole story from the beginning of my frustrations to the moment I was on the phone with this supervisor and how now I am just asking that the check is rewritten in my name.  Once again, I was asked, “Had you not tried to put the account in your name before this?”

Yelling firmly but loudly, “I DID TRY AT LEAST ONCE EVERY MONTH FOR THE FIRST SIX MONTHS AFTER PAT DIED, THEN A COUPLE OF TIMES AFTER THAT, ONLY TO GIVE UP UNTIL THIS MOMENT WHEN I DECIDED I DID NOT WANT THE SERVICES ANY LONGER EXCEPT FOR THE WIRELESS.  CAN YOU TELL ME WHAT ELSE I COULD HAVE DONE?  I OFFERED UP A DEATH CERTIFICATE!  I WAS TOLD  IT WAS NOT NECESSARY.  I TRIED AGAIN AND AGAIN.  CAN YOU TELL ME WHAT IT IS THAT I COULD HAVE DONE AND DIDN’T IN ORDER TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN?"

It was quiet on the other end of the line for a couple of minutes.  I gathered my breath and waited.  I finally said to her, “You know the stupid part of this whole thing, is that if I did nothing, eventually the check would show up in unclaimed property of Pennsylvania and I would only need to send a death certificate and fill out a form and the check would be released to me.  Can’t we do this now so I can get back MY money?”

Finally, she says, "yes, send me a death certificate and the check."  “Oh no”, I said.  “I’ll send you the death certificate, a copy of the check and a copy of my crazy bill, and you can rewrite the check, or credit my new account….I don’t care.  I will send the original check made out to my husband once I get the replacement in my name.  If I send this check to you I will have no record of it.  You are not getting it until I get what I want!” 

She agreed.  So here I sit, waiting for the mail to come with the reissued check.  I am not holding my breath.

I find myself asking, “What ever happened to real customer service, where you are made to feel important, and listened to?"  These big companies have lost their way.  I get the bottom line in life.  But the cost to us as customers leaves us wanting.  It is why I tend to shop as local as I can, where good customer service means a happy customer and repeat business.  

Oh, remember good ole Bell Telephone?  Now those were the good ole days!!!!