Category Archives: Commentary

BACK UP!

backwards-clock

As I deliver this bit of shocking news, I hope that you are not sitting down.  Frankly, you need to be standing at attention.  Here goes:  if you are over 40, only about 60% of you have even thought about getting old.  However, one third of you prefer, ‘not to think about aging at all.’  Now consider this:  If you are over 65, 70% of you will be needing long-term care either from a relative, home health aide, assisted living or a nursing home.

Great! Some of you may think to yourselves, “That gives me 25 more years to think about it.”  Fine.  Have it your way.  Stay in denial.  You won’t be alone.  If you’re like many, you’ll be botoxing, bleaching and bonding whatever it is about you that seems like it’s getting old.  If that doesn’t work, you’ll tighten and sew up the rest.  Trouble is, when you really DO get old, you’ll actually look older, if not kinda weird.

There is only one way to stay young:  stay involved.  Meet new people.  Take an interest in young people.  Take an interest in old people.  Plant a different kind of flower in the front hedge.  Teach your dog a new trick.  Read up on something different in the news and share it with a complete stranger.  Don’t just walk across the crosswalk, skip.  Ride your shopping cart if the lanes are clear.  Wave to that cop in your rear-view mirror.  Put on some music and dance while you make dinner.  Trust me NOBODY is watching.

Shake it up.  Nothing deadlier than a rut.  Once you’re in one, that tire just doesn’t want to move from the groove.  Recently, I started running backwards in the pool.  Figured if I’m gonna go back and forth and get nowhere, might as well do it backwards.  Get out the scrapbook and find that picture of you graduating from college.  Remember how you felt that day?  Life was ahead of you?  You were gonna make things happen?  Nothing could stop you?  Well what’s stopping you now?  

 

CAN’T STOP

Boston Marathon Finish Line.1910. Author: Unknown.

Boston Marathon Finish Line.1910. Author: Unknown. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I need to get this down before we get to the bottom of the Boston Marathon tragedy yesterday.  While media crews swarm and investigators forage for the perpetrators of this horror, I am making myself focus on that 78 year-old man who was running his 4th marathon.  You know, the one who was blown to the asphalt just yards from the finish line; the guy who emerged from the chaos with only a scraped knee?  How many guys do you know who are actually running marathons at his age?  Imagine the fortitude and will it takes to run mile after mile in a body that science has proven to be in decline.  Now that’s heart and it is just what we all need in a crisis like this.

Everyone has heart when they’re young, even if it’s just for romance.  Few seem capable of sustaining it, though, as the years pass.  One glance in the parlor of a nursing home is evidence of that; a dozen, blank-eyed faces with gaping mouths greet you as if someone just knocked the wind out of them.

There’s a bench on the way into my gym.  Almost every morning a 95 year-old woman is sitting on it, bent intently over a floor-length, knitted coverlet.  Oh, she’s not just staying warm under it.  She’s knitting it!  Her bony, arthritic hands move the needles over and under with the precision of a conductor’s baton.  She has done this so long she doesn’t even have to look at the work unfolding beneath her.  It’s a good thing, too.  Yesterday she told me she was almost completely blind.

‘What if you drop a stitch?” I ask. 

She just smiled.  “I can feel it.  So, I just pick it back up and keep going.  At my age, you know, you can’t stop.  You can’t stop or. . ..” 

That’s what the marathon man will do:  get back up and keep going.  And that’s also what the city of Boston will do.  There’s only one real finish line in life.  It’s unlikely that crowds will roar or flashbulbs pop when we finally cross it.  But till then stay in the race.  If someone knocks you down, keep your eyes on the one lifting you up and don’t stop.

Helen Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes.”

“LOVE ALL, TRUST A FEW”

William Shakespeare sure understood a thing or two about people.  In the 500 years since he wrote those words, we have not really changed all that much.  “Trust,” as Granny always said, “has to be earned.” And since it April 1st, a day which ‘fools’ us all, I am contemplating what that word really means.

 Recently, I had the opportunity to listen in on a group of 20 something women describing what love and relationships are like in the world of iPhones and all things Internet.  Some complained that they actually “don’t talk” to their boyfriends, but “text instead.”  Others said that they felt their ‘real life’ romances were a bit of a letdown considering what both parties see and experience online.

 But here was the kicker for me:  almost ALL of them confided that they either had their boyfriend’s passwords, or secretly looked at their phones and checked their computers when they weren’t around.  Granted, women have checked up on their men since the old, ‘lipstick on the collar’ days.  But it was one thing to wonder.  Now if you’re lucky, you can get a video of him inflagrante delicto, sent straight to your phone. 

 Jody Arias took naked, cell phone photos of her intended just before she stabbed him to death in the shower.  Even running her camera through the washing machine couldn’t erase the evidence.  She, too, had snooped around his computer and didn’t like who he was ‘friends’ with.  Yikes.  Once the mirror is cracked, you really can’t look at it the same again.   

 Which brings me to the real reason for this post.  Tomorrow is my 33rd anniversary.  Neither of us have bought the other a card yet, but we don’t need to.  We have something untouched by poetry, flowers, chocolate, diamonds or any trip you could take to anywhere:  trust.  In 33 years, I have never searched his pockets, listened in on his conversations, checked up on his whereabouts, looked through his computer or even opened up his phone.  Not once.  Not ever.

 Now I have loved and love many, many people in my life.  Some make me laugh.  Others make me think.  Most bring me joy and a joie de vivre for this amazing and ever-changing world.  But do I trust them all?  Well, I’m with Will on this one.  Happy Anniversary, my love.  Consider this your card.    

Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes,” a memoir of the years she and her husband cared for her grandmother with Alzheimer’s.Image

DON’T SIT THIS ONE OUT!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

No, he’s not my husband.  Five minutes before this photo was shot, I had never laid eyes on the man.  But let me explain.  It all began in 1968, as I was leaving for my first high school dance.  As I headed for the door, Granny called out:  “Now remember, Dear, dance with EVERY boy who asks you.”  Her feeling was that to ever say, “No, thank you,” would be crushing to a fellow who had worked his courage up to ask in the first place.  So, I did and in the years since, not only have I never ‘sat one out,’ I have even taken to doing the asking myself. 

 Such was the case last week as I shopped for produce at Whole Foods.  Somewhere between the flowers and the blueberries, music began to play; lovely, danceable music.  As I turned towards the musicians, I noticed an older gentleman standing off to the side keeping time with his foot.  I walked up and asked him to dance.  He said, “No, thank you.  I’m just here to listen to the band.” 

 Frankly, he took a bit of coaxing but within minutes we were moving to a song whose name I can’t remember.  By then, I had dropped my coat and shopping bag to the floor.  His shy smile began to beam as others stopped to watch us.  Emboldened, we began to widen our circle and grasped hands.  Neither of us had a clue as to what we were doing, nor did we follow any kind of actual step like the waltz or foxtrot.  We just danced, this complete stranger and I.  From the corner of my eye, shoppers stopped to smile, a grinning cashier paused at his register, and a little girl pointed us out to her mother in wonder. 

 Why does she ‘wonder’?  I ask myself.  Our brief lives should be filled with moments like these; times we simply drop what we are doing and move to the music.  Moments don’t just happen.  We make them come alive by risking and yes, dancing.  These moments become our memories.  If we don’t make them joyful, we are doomed to a bitter old age.  Besides, the music doesn’t play forever.  So, to Granny, ‘Thank you for that advice.’  And to Vernon, ‘Thank you for the dance!’

 Helen Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes,” a memoir of the 13 years her ‘advice-giving’ Granny descended into Alzheimer’s.

http://www.amazon.com/Kissing-Tomatoes-ebook/dp/B007CMNJKW

 

DON’T BAT AN EYELASH!

Age Beholds BeautySeveral times in recent weeks, perfect strangers, when seeing me with my youngest daughter have said, “Gosh.  You look just alike!”  or, “Well I can sure tell that she’s your daughter!”  Funny thing is, until I saw this picture tonight, I almost believed them!  But a picture IS worth a thousand words. . . and as you can see for yourself:  we look NOTHING alike and that’s Okay.  She is lovely for 16 and I am lovely for one who parks in the, “For Seniors Only,” space.

Oh, I could nip and tuck this or that, slap on some makeup, color my hair; all things my girlfriends have sweetly suggested over the years.  But what person in their right mind would put fresh paint on a crumbling wall?  Just today, a woman 10 years younger than me said that she botoxes “like crazy,” and that, “along with Zoloft,” keeps her from being depressed.  But I’m not one whit depressed when I look in the mirror.  Not just because my eyesight isn’t as sharp as it used to be.  Frankly, I don’t really ‘look’ in that mirror the way I used to.  Instead of scrutinizing the shape of my eyebrows or how lush my lips look with that new lipstick, I now use it as a general assessment of, ‘Is there spinach in my teeth?” or, “I think it’s about time I trimmed my bangs.’

Youth hands you beauty without having to bat an eyelash.  Problem is, too many of us spend the rest of our lives trying to improve on it.  The money-mad, media, once found only in print or TV ads, now gnaws for our young girl’s attention from the intimacy of their cell phones!  Sadly, they pay attention.  But no cream, beauty product or laser treatment will ever make you any more beautiful over time.  That happens on the inside, where the real fountain of youth exists.  It’s that reservoir of love, memory,  acceptance, forgiveness, humility and humor which has poured into you slowly over the years.  

So a reminder to young, beautiful girls everywhere:  spend as much time doing good as looking good.  It’s cheaper than mascara and lasts forever  Meanwhile, I’ve decided to go out, “Just the way the Good Lord made me.”  Those were words my grandmother managed to use for almost every occasion.  Now there was a truly, beautiful woman.  Sorry, Lady Clairol.  You just can’t hold a candle to that! 

Hudson’s 2nd book, “Kissing Tomatoes,” will soon be out in print.  The Kindle edition is available on Amazon.

TOSS A COIN

I’m always on the lookout for pennies in the street.  Once I picked up several dollars along with some cigarette butts and candy wrappers at a drive-thru.  The young cashier actually thanked me for ‘cleaning the place up.’  She had no interest in retrieving those coins  from the mucky street.  None.  That’s the problem with the young; they forget that stuff adds up.  All of it.  Choice by choice, coin by coin, year by year, it just accumulates. 

Until one day you wake up and crazy as it sounds, you are actually sixty.  That would be:  Six Zero.  Take 10 six year-olds, tie them together and there you are. . .only not so cute anymore.  Of course by now, you have finally figured out that how you look is fairly irrelevant.  How you have lived is not.  You cannot help but pause and reflect, simply because there are thousands and thousands of days filled with choices you did and didn’t make to recall.

So, indulge me on my birthday as I share my 5-word philosophy:  life is like a coin. You can spend it any way you want but you can only use it once.  Now some folks will hold onto that coin and consider their options carefully before they put it to prudent use.  Others will just stick it in their pocket for that proverbial rainy day, which everyone knows never comes.  Some will spend it right away and have nothing left.  But the saddest part?  Some will look at that coin smack in the face and declare it just ‘isn’t enough.’

 Funny thing is, they are both given to us and neither one lasts forever.  Extending time is like stretching your pennies. . . at some point there just isn’t anymore.  On that happy note, I am headed out to make THIS day, like ALL days as rich with life as I can.  

http://www.amazon.com/Kissing-Tomatoes-ebook/dp/B007CMNJKW

http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/helenhudson2

 

 

TO KNOW, OR NOT TO KNOW; THAT IS THE ANSWER

Tiptoeing Through Knowledge

45 years ago, an American Airlines stewardess at La Guardia airport, ushered me on to a departing, cross-country flight for which I had no reservation, no ticket and no money.  She did not follow the rules or protocol despite the fact that I was clearly a minor.  Instead, she ran back into the plane, alerted the pilot, and cleared me a space in First Class.  Her decision to follow her instincts that night, instead of her training, may well have saved my life.

Even the yellow brick road to Oz was full of perils and so it is with us.  Follow the path of most anyone’s charmed existence long enough and it often leads to some sad side roads:  the train track scar behind the ears of that girl who looks “amazing for her age;” the obituary of a neighbor’s son who committed suicide or the sudden divorce of longtime friends.  You know the stories. 

But it does beg the question:  how much do we actually ‘know’ about the ‘real’ lives of our friends or even family members?  Our reality is often obscured by an amorphous haze.  We have hunches, feelings or instincts about things but we simply leave them at that.  Those twinges in our gut get pushed down into a box that we tiptoe around.  Every now and then, though, we get a jolt.  It’s like driving.  You don’t quite think about it until you hit something or someone crashes into you.  By then, of course, it’s too late.

Imagine the ‘jolts’ received by those who knew the 20 year-old who killed his mom, then a classroom full of children at Sandy Hook Elementary.  His parents and older brother ‘always knew’ he had mental issues, yet they didn’t let themselves ‘know’ the full reach of what he might be capable of.  It kept them from taking action sooner and now 26 people are dead and the lives of thousands more have been irrevocably changed.

 So today perhaps, try running with your hunches.  It will mean confronting the Great Unknown.  It might get messy or awkward or uncomfortable.  You may even be wrong.  Maybe, though, you will change the future course of events into something more positive than it might have been otherwise.  Have you really any greater purpose in living than that?  I wish I could thank that stewardess today.

Helen Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes.”

http://www.amazon.com/Kissing-Tomatoes-ebook/dp/B007CMNJKW

 

 

HELP! I’VE FORGOTTEN MY PASSWORD AND CAN’T GET IN!

Honestly, if I have to create one more user ID or come up with one more stupid password that involves a capital letter, a number and 3 naked elves I’m gonna scream.  (Never mind.  I just did).  Took me 10 minutes searching through my 11 pages of passwords to find what I was looking for only to enter it and be told, “You changed your password 6 months ago.”  Apparently I forgot to include that one.

 Last week, I called the bank and they wanted me to answer my “secret question.”  It was so d—- secret I got it wrong and it was the name of my first pet!  It took me another ten minutes, talking with the supervisor to confirm that I indeed was ME.  By that time, I actually forgot why I called in the first place!!!

 Not only that, yesterday I rushed into the kitchen for something and just stood there.  Looked at the stove.  Stared at the cupboards.  Eyed the dish drainer.  Watered the potted plant.  Wiped down the counter.  And the whole time I kept thinking, ‘Now why did I come in here?’  An hour later while driving to the market, it came to me:  the shopping list. 

 Just this morning, I had a doctor appointment.  Now my doctor is one of those high-tech guys.  Just to be sure his patients are timely, he sends those automatic thingamajigs that go straight to your calendar.  Problem is, my computer is set to Eastern time. However, my appointment this morning was in Central time. 

 On Jeopardy tonight, one of the answers was ‘Andrew Lloyd Webber.’  Now I KNEW who he was.  I could see him.  I could even hear his voice.  In fact, I know the lyrics to ALL his songs, but for the life of me I could not come up with his name.  “That little English guy,” I finally yelled.  Minus $2,000 for me.

 It’s hard enough to remember the basics let alone a slew of convoluted passwords.  So, I just googled, “How do I remember all my passwords?”  Big mistake.  First site said I should try algorithms.  Next site suggested I devise anagrams.  Third site said to join a site that saves your passwords.  Yup.  They require a user ID and password.  At this point, I have so many of those I don’t know who I am anymore.  Witness protection here I come.  NO ONE will find me….even me.

P.S.  I’m starting to think we don’t have an Alzheimer’s epidemic at all.  We just have a whole lot of people who have forgotten their passwords!

Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes,” now available on Amazon/Kindle.

VERY THANKFUL

Everybody has a hard luck story.  At my age, I don’t even pause to hear most of them anymore.  I hang up mid-sentence on telephone salesmen, ignore the homeless waving at my windshield and no longer drop bills in the boxes of those who’s signs say:  “Lost My Job.”  I’ve just seen too many of them at the liquor store later.    

They’re just the same old words out of different mouths.  Today, though, was different.  As I was leaving the pool this morning, an elderly woman wheeled herself up to the end of the ramp in a motorized wheelchair.  The lifeguard helped her maneuver her large, awkward body into the water.  She wore a snug wetsuit, that given her limited mobility must have taken her perhaps an hour to get into. 

 Feeling strangely transfixed, I waited for her to enter the water.  As our eyes met, she beamed the most warm and radiant smile.  It was only then that I realized just how pretty she was.  Her eerily, young face seemed out of place on her crippled body.  We began walking together as if we had done this for years. 

 Over the next 20 minutes, she told me that she has osteoporosis, and both knees and one hip were replaced.  The second hip needs replacement, but it cannot be done due both to her fragility and an underlying auto-immune disease.  Her eyesight is also failing partly because her eyes cannot tolerate the medicinal drops they need. 

 She fears her husband is in the throes of Alzheimer’s but does not know what to do.  In the last month, “He has dented all four sides of his car.’  At the market last week, he forgot to purchase the items she needed and returned to get them a second time.  When he still came home without them, she suggested he not go out again and reached to pick up his car keys.  When she did, he grabbed her so hard, “I was scared for my life.” 

 She has two sons:  one is severely diabetic and the other, a former minister with a wife and 3 children was just diagnosed as bipolar.  His wife has taken a job as a part-time cashier, but my aging friend is sending them money from her dwindling retirement to keep them afloat.

 “Well,” I said, “your plate is full this Thanksgiving, but certainly not of things that you are thankful for.”    “Oh, my dear!” she beamed.  “I am VERY thankful.  I just had YOU to share all of this with!” 

BE HERE NOW

It’s funny how the sheer passage of time changes your outlook.  40 years ago I was driven, ambitious and had the energy to scale miles of New York City sidewalks in high heels, no less.  Now, a good cup of coffee in my recliner with the dog in my lap as I read the morning news is bliss itself.

The dichotomy of those two pictures makes me shake my head.  It’s not that I wonder, ‘When did I get so old?’  What amazes me is that I was perfectly content then and just as content now.  It is as if my mind has reorganized itself to embrace this slowed-down, creakier version of my younger self.  Now other than the fact that I have many less years ahead of me than behind me, I am pretty much okay being exactly where I am.  Of course some days I am not exactly certain ‘where’ that is, but wherever it is, I am there.  And so are you.

There was a time where the thought of leaving this earth horrified me.  My stomach sank and the longer I thought about it the more distraught I became.  ‘Where will I go when I’m gone?’ I used to ask my grandmother.  ‘How will I be able to hug you if I’m not here!?’  Lately, I find myself warming up to the idea.  After all, there is only so much one can do with a life, and only so much time in which to do it.      

A man next to me in the pool today told me he took early retirement in his 50’s.  “I’m 82 now,” he said with resignation.  “At the time, my wife and I thought we would travel but we never really did.  I had a lot of plans when I was younger but somehow, the older I got the less important they seemed.  Now, I’m just happy to wake up in the morning.”

Clearly, he’s a few ‘acceptance stages’ ahead of me.  But I take comfort in his point of view.  I have now decided that we are wired to, ‘Be Here Now.’  That said, I wish you all a warm, contented morning.  May you be so blessed as I to have a dog curled up in your lap and a hot cup of coffee to get you going!!

Helen Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes.” 

http://www.amazon.com/Kissing-Tomatoes-ebook/dp/B007CMNJKW