Viewing a 50th College Reunion

Jane, Age 72

“Inside every older person, is a younger person….wondering what happened!”

High on a hillside, overlooking a lake, gorges with creeks run through the campus, leaf laden trees and flowers abound…still a magnificent tableau, although so much has been added over the years. The large modern library, brand new when we were students, now sports a weathered patina, as it blends in with the historic fieldstone buildings in the quad. Dramatic and somewhat stark contemporary buildings punctuate the landscape, demonstrating various architectural trends of this new century.

At first glance the reunion-goers, gathering at the dorm assigned to our class, appear to be wearing the guises of their grandparents; though similarities to the kids we knew then are unmistakable. We feel a tinge of nostalgia, and still treasure the many friendships formed so many decades ago.

A yearbook, distributed earlier, on a CD, distills these fifty years in individual lives and serves as an introduction to this signature event. Perusing the women’s bios, I see stories of past and present as well as many visions of things to come.

One woman’s honest assessment of her life thus far:
“A good life, with twists and turns like a river.”

Remembering times past-
To refresh our memories of what life was like back in the old days, there was a panel presentation, highlighted by a video collage, of interviews with several classmates. We were reminded that we were in an Eisenhower era cocoon during our college days, somewhat insulated from the percolating political landscape in the country. But were reminded, that on our very campus, there were blatant acts of prejudice, perpetrated against the few students of color and against the women, who were at that time, just one quarter of the student body.

It wasn’t until we graduated that many of us became involved in the civil rights movement, marched against the war in Viet Nam and had our consciousness raised in the early feminist movement. We grew up quickly after we left the Hill. Although women faced prejudice and discrimination in the early 1960’s, we soldiered on as the vanguard of females in professional schools of business, law and medicine, and in emerging corporate roles across the country. We reached beyond the “nurse secretary or teacher” options voiced by our parents.

Stories from women of this class of 1962 were about advanced degrees, career tracks that altered over the years. Raising families; some divorcing, re-marrying, some widowed. Health issues abounded…but did not stop the flow. New knees, hips, Cancer survival…all reminders of mortality, and the fragility of this life.

The Present-
Women in this reunion class are in various stages of transition at this point in their lives. While some at universities keep teaching and doing research, others have retired and found new pursuits. Some are still working part-time, or volunteering during the week, keeping a hand in areas that intrigue them. Others are continuing to travel to find adventure. The artists are exploring richer paths, exhibiting their work, engaging with talented people of all ages.

Stories abound of parents that need caretaking, and children who have moved back home.

Options of living arrangements are explored as some pull up roots and move, even across the country, to settle near children and grandchildren. Some just downsize in the same city, while others hang on to the family homestead, ready for visiting family and friends to fill all the rooms.
Some invest in experimental living arrangements. In co-housing, a group of people purchase land together and individuals or families build their own dwellings. The community tries to work as a unit, sharing common areas and an eventual clubhouse. But alas, the different generations have differing points of view. What about the age peers? Well they are all cut of different cloth, and don’t necessarily get along. So much for the ideal community.

The Future-
This group is not standing still, or just sitting at home. On to new adventures they go, with greater appreciation of how finite our time on this earth is. We read the long list of classmates who have died and know that it’s all a crap shoot. Our names could be there as well…and will be eventually.
The woman who had a near death experience with cancer, told me she’s kinder and feels more compassionate now than she used to be. The author with the two knee replacements swims or bikes every day, and has just completed two bicycle races. An advocate for good nutrition, she tells us that the Greeks’ goal was to “die young as late in life as possible.”
The retired Home Economics teacher who moved with her husband from the east coast to the west, to be near their grandchildren, is energized by the hills and mountains she can now hike, and feels enriched by the generous church group she’s become part of, volunteering in the community and in local schools.

We’re reminded that we must live like there’s no tomorrow….today is really all we have. Make it a good day.

Posted in 70 from other perspectives: looking forward and looking back, Stories | 1 Comment

The Perfect Pie

Constance, Age 76

I wanted to learn to bake the perfect pie. At my age, 76, why a pie? I can buy a pie at Costco. Pies are fattening and have everything in them that we are not supposed to eat; white flour, sugar, and fat. Baking messes up the kitchen. If that’s not bad enough – the time I am taking to bake a pie takes away from all the things I should be doing like checking my email or cleaning a closet of old memorabilia; but over the past couple of years I kept remembering the perfect pie dough recipe in the “Cooks Illustrated” magazine I picked up on a whim at the check stand at the Twain Harte Market on the way to the cabin –why on earth a cooking magazine? I’m sick and tired of cooking after 56 years of it, every day.

Flipping through the magazine I came across the recipe for the “perfect” piecrust. I thought, “no pie can ever compete with Jim’s grandmother Mimmy’s pies” and my cooking self esteem had hit an all time low. When Jim retired he took over the bragging rights of stuff I used to do in the kitchen, and my sister in law took over making ravioli and Christmas dinner. I became the deposed matriarch and was no longer Queen of Holiday dinners. I no longer had bragging rights or self esteem in the kitchen – art achievements don’t count for much within the greater family circle. I put the magazine in my binder of quick, easy, healthy recipes so that every now and then I would look at the pie recipe.

What intrigued me the most about this perfect pie dough was one ingredient that could make my pie dough stand head and shoulders above the rest; VODKA. I hate vodka, I’ve hated it ever since I overdosed at a party years ago (another time, another story) and had the only hangover of my life. I was not about to buy vodka to make a pie that was unhealthy anyway. The pie dough recipe was fun to look at now and then, sort of like looking at outlandish shoes at Nordstrom’s, the ones that are completely inappropriate, uncomfortable and bad for your feet. I have to try them on anyway. In the back of my mind the pie recipe was stored alongside thoughts and desires for inappropriate shoes.

Last year after a wonderful Christmas at Sandra’s (her last she decided – our combined families have grown too much), we took a trip to the cabin to recover from Christmas. While putting our groceries from Twain Harte market into the refrigerator my heart did a double flip; there on the shelf was a half full bottle of vodka left by the kids that last used the cabin.

The vodka came home with us and sat in our refrigerator for months. Life went on as usual. Finally it was June, time for Jim to put in the garden and anticipate the fresh, sweet blackberries ripening; the only problem was we had eight pounds or more of blackberries in the freezer. Jim is a perfectionist when it comes to stuff in the freezer; we grow enough berries and tomatoes to supply a fruit stand so what is not eaten or given away gets frozen. He wanted to throw out last year’s perfectly good berries.

I hate to waste food, money and time so I thought “what have I got to loose? My kitchen self esteem was at an all time low; the vodka was taking up space, along with the berries and the old magazine. Take a chance, to hell with cleaning and checking email, I don’t feel like painting.” Besides, I thought, “the Mike Bailey painting idea (painting the same damn still life 20 times till you loosen up) might work with pies.” So I took the plunge.

I sent Jim shopping for the forbidden ingredients, the Crisco, the white flour and unsalted butter. I googled blackberries to fine a recipe for the perfect pie filling then quickly emailed the coffee group that meets on Friday to come to our house the next day for pie, so I would not back out of this risky business. I cleared the kitchen counters and waited for Jim to be occupied elsewhere so I would not have him making comments about how I should do stuff.

I hurriedly made the pie dough exactly as directed then stashed it in the fridge as per “Cooks Illustrated” instructions, then went on with the blackberry filling recipe. The dough was then just right for rolling out, by now my counters were a complete mess but the pie went into the oven. Forty-five minutes later the pie came out of the oven picture perfect. Sunday I baked my fifth and sixth pies. I aim for 20 berry pies.

My self-esteem in the kitchen has recovered enough to make use of our lemons, which are 60 to 70 cents each, at the store, but fall on the ground here. My next adventure will be the “perfect lemon pie” and then on to recreate Mimmy’s famous grated apple pie this fall.

Perhaps I will then use Wayne Thiebaud as my inspiration and paint pies. Why not! Thiebaud is in his 90’s and doing his best work. I am a mere 76. I still have time for perfect pies and painting.

Posted in HUMOR, Stories | 3 Comments

Getting our second wind

Phyllis, Age 70

On Ellen Degeneres’ anniversary of her 1500 shows, I heard her say this, “I wear Cover Girl make up because it makes me feel younger and more beautiful.” I barfed and protested that sexism and ageism on FB and Twitter. She is a sacred cow who’s commercial slogan is supporting that conventional gender conformity which my generation fought so hard to eliminate from the cultural consciousness.

As we get older we are inserting a new period in the life cycle and redefining ourselves.

Here are some studies about aging producing remarkable findings. We are all going thru a big paradigm shift, as we should, because we are just getting warmed up and there is a lot of work to do ahead of each of us. Check out the talks at TedX Women…

Stanford Center on Longevity Director, Dr. Laura Carstensen,
“…aging brings remarkably improved emotional aspects of life; …older people are happier than middle age and young people; ….stress worry and anger decrease with age…”

By 2015 there will be more people over the age of 60 than under 15.

TEDxWomen speakers keep the conversation going

Aging Myths: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/debra-ollivier/five-biggest-aging-myths_b_1350128.html

Successful Aging: http://ajp.psychiatryonline.org/article.aspx?articleID=174810

Jane Fonda talks about our new paradigm and the challenge of our generation:
http://tedxwomen.org/speakers/jane-fonda/

At 70 we are just getting our second wind.

You cannot see all the women out in front of us doing the same thing – standing for peace and justice.

Posted in About turning 70, Ageism anecdotes, Stories | Leave a comment

Alive and kicking!

Carmen, Age 70

I turned 70 this week. A male good friend just introduced me to your site. Interesting and supportive.
I’m a grandma and a mother of 3, a spouse of 1, a special friend of 12, a friend of hundreds, an aunt, a cousin, a college professor, a community teacher, a colleague, all in that order. And that is my everlasting gift! I’m busy with not a moment to spare but I still do the impossible, share all my time with lots of people daily. I care about politics, government issues at home, in the U.S., abroad, love to travel, like good food, good people, good times, good weather. Some of these things are free, others costly, one chooses. All this makes me alive and kicking!

But, the day before my big birthday 4 days ago, I had a crisis. I didn’t want to see or hear of anyone on my big day, nor did I want to burn any candles. I sent an email to my 12 most important people asking them not to notice me the following day. I was not going to be in the mood. I knew they were ready to celebrate my b-day, but I said I didn’t want any mentioning of my birthday. I shocked everyone with my out of character request and my negative and bitter message.

But 18 hours later, I brushed my email off and I rebounced. My middle son lectured me on my email, rightly so; a friend said to me in a reprimanding email that I should be happy to be 70 and what was this nonsense of a ‘crisis’, I should stop being silly. Little by little I became myself once more and laughed a lot on my Birthday.

A friend just told me, what I wanted to forget had the opposite effect, we will all remember my 70th birthday with this anecdote and the tantrum I threw. Honestly, I feel the same at 70 and 4 days- smart, witty, funny, courageous, picky, curious, crazy, etc. Life is a present, at 1, 64 or 90,♪♫•* just Let it Be, Let it Be ♪♫•*. Enjoy the ride, we have only one ticket!

Posted in About turning 70, Stories | 1 Comment

We move on…

Loss

By Jerry, Age 79

What pill exists to mask the pain we feel,
No powder, salve, elixir
Can soften the crush.
No X-ray can reveal it.

What remains both hurts and heals,
An avalanche of memories
Cascades and carries us,
Helpless to avoid the fall.

The ancient mix prevails,
Time is the chemist,
Nature provides its confection,
We move on, we move on.

Posted in Poetry | 1 Comment

A daughter’s inspiration

Karen, Age 51

My Mom

My mom is resilient. She is able to start up, restart, keep going. I know her life hasn’t been what anyone would call ‘easy’. But when I watch her pick up and begin again, I’m full of admiration.

She started out with what I would call a terrible mismatch with my dad. When I look at them today, I wonder how they managed 20 years together. It was rocky, but even with a very strong, almost overbearing man, my mother let herself push through. Against all odds, she applied for and was accepted at college when he was overseas. I remember her studying during my late elementary and beginning of middle school years. She was studying art, which has always been her passion – even today. Late at night, she was putting together a sculpture of stacked V’s, awkward angles but balanced and proud – red, white and blue. I still love many of the sculptures she made that now adorn her house. Watching her, I learned that studying and putting in the hours makes a difference, especially when it’s your passion.

We were sitting around the table one day when we realized the date and that my parents had missed their 20th anniversary. That was right before the marriage ended and my mother began her journey on her own. She had been primarily a housewife up to that time. I was in my final years of high school. Though she had obtained a masters degree, finding a job was a challenge. She began with a portrait studio – the ones that provide pictures for families in those po-dunk towns at the five and dime? Ben Franklin, K-Mart, etc. All of sudden she was driving across the county, setting up and making a living. She covered the western territory! Arizona to Alaska. What a trip!

Then she landed a teaching job and suddenly she’s selling all her furniture and moving to Yerington, NV and then Prosser, WA. Time flits around, the end of second marriage, study abroad in Mexico and France. And suddenly she’s applying for a job with the Department of Defense and on her way to Germany. She spent some time teaching and volksmarching there and then into the International School system teaching art in Zambia, Africa.

I’m sure that she struggled with loneliness. But she has always been a trooper. My husband, brother and I visited her in Zambia. On the way in to a marvelous tent camp called Tena-Tena, my mom was bitten by a tse-tse fly. The next morning she was swollen and ill. Yet she continued to walk and travel with us on safari. I look at pictures now and wonder how she managed! We called her ‘Rocky’ and just kept going. Kids! Seriously, I don’t remember her complaining at all – but she used all the immodium we brought!

After several years there, she returned to the states. She was living with her mom and then near her mom, and then close enough to visit with her mom. Those years, I think, were God given. She built a deep relationship with grandma that hadn’t been there before. It was frustrating and challenging, but loving and selfless at the same time.

It was during this time, shifting through a couple of romances, she found John. Mom and John were together when Savannah, my daughter, was born in ’94. They moved to Florida, and even moved grandma, too. They had a wonderful time together, flying to the beach for lunch, dinner clubs and jet setting around Florida.

Last Christmas, we celebrated John’s life and the 16 years they spent together. When we left, I was encouraging her to take a trip with her friend Darlene to Hilton Head. It’s almost Christmas again. My mother did go on that trip to Hilton Head and to several bridge retreats, has a cruise planned at Thanksgiving and might find a spot to visit with us in December! She’s sold the furniture again, re-decorating and hanging her pictures throughout the house. I can’t wait to see how she shines through once again.

70 and still going strong. What an inspiration!

Posted in About turning 70, Family matters, Looking ahead, Stories, Traveling | 2 Comments

Then and Now

Written at age 18 as a college sophomore
In 1928 (as Dora Sapp)

I’d Like to Know
By Dora V. Gordon

I often wonder what I’ll be
At the age of seventy

Old and bent and doubled in two
Knitting as old ladies do

Sitting by the fireside
A woolen shawl around me tied

Wiping teardrops from my eye
As I think of days gone by?

Or dancing grandma will I be
With hennaed locks and painted knee

Newest steps and latest slang
Cocktail parties with the gang

Poiret frocks and high-heeled shoes
Strolling down the avenues?

Or in my grave will I have lain
Buried after much, much pain

And my tombstone will it state
I had a rendezvous with Fate

A victim of a heart disease
God bless me – may I rest in peace?

It worries me – this what I’ll be
When I arrive at seventy.

********************

Written at age 77 in 1987

And Now I Know
By Dora V. Gordon

Now I’ve reached that golden age
And every day I turn the page
To see what life is really like
Oh! It’s different to say the least
I’ll tell you this – it’s quite a feast!

I’m not knitting by the fireside
There is no shawl around me tied
No time to think of days gone by
No time for all those pains and aches
It’s run, run, run – for Heaven’s sakes

Things to do there always are
I sure keep going in that car
Whoever thought I’d come to this
Seventy plus and such fast gait
Always hopin’ I won’t be late

I’m on the run with this and that
I manage time like an acrobat
There’s always much to see and do
Can’t miss a thing, so off I go
And who has time to knit and sew?

Something new is always there
For us to learn about and care
Travel talks, trips and classes too
TV shows and parties great
Keeping fit – I’ll just rejuvenate!

So that’s the senior life, my friend
It’s really like a dividend
Never thought it – way back when
So live it up – and take it in
Enjoying life is not a sin!

Posted in 70 from other perspectives: looking forward and looking back, Looking ahead, Poetry | Leave a comment

Remembering

My Meandering Mississippi
By Jerry Harris

The meandering Mississippi of my mind,
Flows southward, carrying with it,
A name of the person
My wife lunched with yesterday.
A small matter, to be sure.

My family keeps track of such things,
Perhaps posting them on a notepad somewhere,
Along with emergency numbers, grocery lists,
The date of my sister-in-law’s birthday party.
(Need I wear a suit?)

Whatever personal flotsam,
Has collected along the way,
It sails offshore from Natchez, Hannibal,
And Cape Girardeau,
Along with yachts, barges and dinghies.
(Perhaps my 2011 calendar will be found,
Inside a catfish filled with Chicago detritus.)

Are alarm bells ringing, or is it just a bother.
Folks say, “Oh, it happens to all of us.”
Shall I take up bridge?
Join the chess group in the park,
Do cross word puzzles or sudoku?

If it happens to all of us,
Then apologies to you.
These lines may lack gravitas,
Not to worry,

They sail for New Orleans in the morning.

Posted in Our bodies, our health, Poetry | Leave a comment

Trying to understand

Phyllis, Age 70

I began my turn at 69 though I did not know it at the time it was happening. And for nearly 2 years now I have been browsing over my experiences living from childhood to now, trying to understand on a very deep level the choices I made, what I have done and how I got here. It is almost as if I am rebuilding my foundation. I began autobiographical writing, and then stories based on my experiences, started looking for my long lost meaningful friends. I became a self-published author and archived all my writings. That was hard enough but the hardest part was watching the women my own age timing themselves out and settling, while I feel I am just getting warmed up.

Suddenly I realized that I don’t fit into the society immediately around me, and I accept that as part of my new life path. I had to stop doing what no longer serves me and distance myself from the negative influences of those aging around me who are not optimistic, living out their same story, only talking about medications, doctors, pains and getting old. With those people out of my social life now I find myself wondering where my tribe is, who my people are. I spend a lot of time alone, writing, reading and loving it. It is better than the alternative of trying to relate to negativity and patronization about age. I look forward to what will be new and wonderful, what will move my heart and what will bring tears of joy to my eyes. I have no time for sorrow about getting older. I am merely doing it and trying to love it deeply as I go.

Posted in About turning 70, Looking ahead, Stories | Leave a comment

Feeling blessed and optimisitc

Diana, Age 70

Some 70th birthday reflections

Well, the BIG DAY came, and went, last Friday 4/20/2012 and I believe I will declare it all good! I had spent the prior week near Austin, TX with my sister, first of all enjoying a lovely body-bending, mind-expanding gentle yoga retreat (the “lotus” of this birthday report), and then just relaxing and drifting through the Austin area and the green and lush Texas hill country. The spring wildflower display was glorious, with color splashing the roadsides and open fields. We explored the lovely Lady Bird Wildflower Center one morning, joined by countless butterflies who were also attracted to the dazzling color and variety of the display.

Returning on April 19th from Texas to late spring in the rocky Arizona desert, one of my April birthday gifts has been seeing the flowers on the huge saguaro cactus here at home. These plants are the iconic armed giants. Here’s what happens when they bloom: little marble-like buds begin to pop out of the top surfaces of the “head” and “arms” of saguaro, and then gorgeous white blossoms open for just a few days.

So-lotus, Texas Bluebonnets, Arizona cactus blossoms, I suppose I could tie it all up with metaphoric glee, but I prefer to leave it where I started: its all been good. And I feel blessed. And optimistic.

Posted in About turning 70, Gratitude and Spirituality, Stories | 1 Comment