Category Archives: Inspiration

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?  

 

TELL IT LIKE IT IS

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Interesting ride in the elevator this morning.  As the doors closed, I went to push the UP button, but the four year-old next to me beat me to it, hitting the DOWN one instead.  We headed down.  “DADDY!” she shrieked, “Why aren’t we going UP???”  “Because you pushed the DOWN button,” he said with a grimace of embarrassment.

Ah, indeed, one cannot go UP in life, if one keeps pushing the DOWN button and we do it all the time.  Don’t believe me?  Why do women lie about their age?  They do not want to face their actual years of living.  Why?  What makes 30 more special than 37?  Hopefully those 7 years were well-lived and they are proud of them.  Why not own them?  I knew a woman once who told me she had two children.  When I later learned that she actually had three,( a mentally ill son who had been institutionalized for many years), she said he, ‘didn’t count.’

Wow.  Everything counts.  Every ONE counts.  It all adds up to the beautiful, complex, crazy, wonderful puzzle that becomes our lives.  Sure some are messy, others splendid, but every HOUR of them are OURS.  Claim them.  Embrace them.  Flaunt them.  But whatever you do, don’t hide them or you will just go down.  Down, until you end up in the basement with all those people who declare that “50 is the new 40.” 

            What?  50 is not the ‘new 40.’  It is actually 10 years more beautiful than 40 could ever hope to be.  It has more gray hair, more lines, more experience, more disappointments and joys, and more stories to tell.  Which brings me to why I write this blog in the first place: celebrating older people.

Why aren’t they our FIRST priority?  They are living legacies and their time with us is short.  Why was Taylor Swift on the cover of Vanity Fair this month instead of Stevie Wonder?  She is awesome and I love her music but his work has affected the world longer than she has even been alive.  And while we’re at it, why are feisty, fifty year-olds advertising erectile dysfunction drugs?  Seriously, get a real, 75 year-old guy who can barely click the TV remote and put some believability back in advertisement.  When THAT happens, I’ll know America has its’ head on straight.  Till then, I’ll keep writing.

 

    

 

 

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

 

 

HAPPY ‘OLD’ YEAR

A gray-haired old woman from the United Kingdom

Faces like this beauty are becoming gloriously ever-present.

Well, now that the super rich are going to keep the rest of us from falling off the fiscal cliff, consider this:  our elderly are going back into the workplace faster than you can shake a cane.  Today alone, I was helped by more gray hairs than young folk.

 Walking into the supermarket, the stock ‘boy’ was putting up a case of ketchup.  Granted, he did it bottle by bottle, unlike the young bucks who hold the case in one arm and fill the shelves with the other.  But considering he was in his 70’s, I was impressed nonetheless.  Same with the bent-over, bald guy who was gathering up wayward carts in the parking lot.

 Several of my ‘over 60’ acquaintances have hired on at Starbucks over the last few years,  just “for the benefits.”  The janitor at the YMCA is a grandmother in her 60’s who never seems to take a break.  The younger janitor, I notice, however, is often sitting on various stairwells sipping coffee or munching candy bars.

 However, one further surprise awaited me on this first day of January, 2013.  When I reached the end of my first lap in the pool and looked up at the lifeguard chair, I had to remove my goggles to believe my eyes.  There, 4 feet up, with a red buoy strung over her chest was a gray-haired woman who looked at least 75.  Her bare legs, while fit, had sagging skin dotted with old age spots and her ankles appeared swollen. 

 I kept swimming.  A few minutes later, she climbed down from the chair and a young, buff guy took her place.  I stopped to watch her move to her next location.  Her posture was erect but in the kind of way that takes effort.  And while I had the sense that I might not exactly like to drown on her watch, I also had tremendous respect for her resolve.  Frankly, it won’t be the super rich or the President or anyone else that keeps this country from going down on its’ knees.  It will be our elderly who continue to stand tall in the face of Time’s demise.   

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

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

HELEN HUDSON HERE: DOG OR GOD

I have tried hard to encourage my kids to use good judgment.  As teenagers, they still wrestle the difference between doing the right thing or going with the crowd.  And while this inner battle  may peak in the teen years, I still see its’ vestiges amongst my senior friends. 

 One, in her 80’s still dyes her hair because she’s afraid, ‘no one will recognize me if I let it go natural.’  Problem is, the dye has caused her severe scalp, skin, and now eye problems, which she continues to endure in order to keep up appearances.  Another still wears heels despite severe arthritis that has deformed her toes.  A 70-something guy I chat with says he’ll, “never discuss politics or religion,” because he’s afraid to let people know where he stands in case they don’t agree with him.  So, we muse about the weather or his aches and pains.  Another, in his 90’s says it takes him, “an extra half hour to get ready every morning, just to put on my pants and get my arm in my shirt.”  When I ask if it wouldn’t be easier to buy his clothes one size larger, he looks horrified.  “What would people think?” he scoffs. 

 Indeed.  What would people think if you actually did the right thing for you?  How horrified would they be if you made the happier choice for your own health?  How bruised would their egos be if you said, ‘No’ to that second drink you really don’t want?  What’s so wrong about talking politics and religion?  Aren’t you more likely to get in lively discussions and discover yourself and others more deeply? 

 It’s easy to look at your kids and say to yourself, ‘Why on earth are they so worried about pleasing that young crowd?’  It’s quite another to see those very same qualities in people decades older.  And for what?  An even more debilitating old age?  I figure if you want unconditional love and acceptance in this life, get a dog.  If you’re looking for it in the next, find God.  Frankly, I think a dog is God’s way of showing us we don’t have to be ‘all that’ to be accepted.  We just have to be us.

Helen Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes,” now on Kindle.  IMG_0514