AGEFULLY AGING

Inspirational reflections on this and that.

Recent Posts

  • 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

  • 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

  • GET WITH IT!!!

    Well, while the rest of you wait to see who will be the next President, I am standing in line at Verizon.  A tiny, white-haired woman in front of me is barking commands to the young man at the service desk.  “No, I want the 4 “S” she hisses.  “I’m upgrading from my iPhone.  I want the Siri!”  She bangs her old iPhone down on the counter and he hustles away to find one. 

     She is flanked by two women, clearly her daughters.  I eavesdrop.  The younger one worries about the cost.  The older one says, “Mom.  You’re 82!  Why do you need such a high-tech phone?  She barely acknowledges their concerns.  Instead she says, “You both need to get with it.”   

     The young man returns, shows her the box and asks if this is what she wants.  Now he is about six-foot three.  Her head barely reaches the counter top.  “How do you expect me to see that from here?” she barks.  “Open it up and hand it over.  I’ll let you know.”  He hands her the shiny, white phone.  A big smile slowly comes over her gruff, wrinkled face.  “Yup.  Now set it up and I’ll tell you what I want.”  Over the next several minutes she will have him activate the phone, download apps and even set up her personal mailbox account. 

     “Don’t you have trouble typing into those touch screens?” I ask. 

    “Nope,” she huffs. 

    “Surely you remember the days of ‘party lines?’ I continue. 

    “Of course.  I still remember my old number.”  She rattles it off. 

    “Wow,” I say impressed.  “But don’t you kinda miss the good old days when you had to wait weeks just to get a letter from your boyfriend?” 

    “Nope.  I liked Larry.  He was the bus driver.  I got on his bus every, single day and drove the whole route with him.” 

    “How romantic!” I enthuse.  “Did you marry him?” 

    “Heavens NO!” she exclaimed.  “He was already married.”

     Clearly there are some seniors for whom Alzheimer’s will never be an issue.

    Helen Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes,” a non-fiction memoir of Alzheimer’s.

            

  • DON’T WORRY

    Do you know that they’ve done studies which PROVE over 90% of what we worry about NEVER happens!  I’ve even READ the studies, so I ask you, why did I wake up at 5 AM this morning worried about my teenagers?  Because I figure, MY worries are in that 10%.  Go figure.

    Now, I admit, I have a rather uncanny ability to find everyone else’s flaws and weak points.  Seriously, my head is like a magnifying glass. It can fix on the most minute crack in someone’s façade and enlarge it to earthquakian proportions.  Give me ten minutes with anyone and I assure you that I could tell you where they’re going wrong, what they’re doing right and if so inspired, even offer my advice to let them know both of the above. 

    Plus, it does not take a GPS to find my mouth.  Just walk by and it locates.  If only that inner guide steered me as well raising kids, I might have a whole lot less worry and a heck of a lot more sleep.  In hindsight, I spent the first 10 years loving, nurturing, teaching, and helping them find their way.  Frankly, they have spent the last 10 undoing all my good work.  

    Children learn by example.  (At least they used to before the computer opened it’s top and swallowed them whole).  In prehistoric times, kids had no choice.  When Mom said, “Run!” they ran.  Otherwise, they’d have been flattened by a buffalo.  But they’re extinct like “Thank You” notes, long distance phone calls and helping little, old ladies across the street.  When’s the last time you laid eyes on a Boy Scout?  Or held the door for someone older? 

    Fortunately, my oldest, has had a part-time job the last two years.  She knows what’s it’s like to do something that involves mindless repetition, receives no praise and garners little money.  It has prepared her for parenting.  Of course, by the time she has kids, you can probably just download an App.  It’ll save you the hassle AND the worry. On that note, I think I’ll hit the sack.

  • HELEN HUDSON HERE: GET REAL

    Remember the days when you had to get your courage up to tell that special person how you felt?  Or had to break off a relationship in PERSON?  Not anymore.  Now you just type what’s on your mind, click “SEND,” and you never even have to look them in the eye.  Communication these days is more simulation than sensation.  You see and hear it but you don’t really feel it.

    Back in the day, gossip took weeks to get around.  You either had to witness the dirty deed yourself or hear about it through the grapevine.  Now, in mere seconds, you can send/receive pictures, live videos or access heretofore ‘private’ stuff from thousands of folks without moving from your chair.  And while such supersonic speed saves lives, it also destroys them. 

    Now I’m not suggesting a return to the days when the stagecoach brought the mail.  (Although I do imagine the thrill of hearing the approach of pounding hoof beats stirred the heart more than a mere cell phone ‘ding.’)  But our generation of kids operates in a sea of instant gratification.  If they make a mistake, they hit, “DELETE.”  With impulse at the helm, there’s no steering clear of the rocks. Disaster is always imminent.  Just ask the survivors from the Costa Concordia.   

    Last year, I spoke at a parent’s meeting at my daughter’s school.  Afterwards, I drove straight home.  It’s a five-minute trip.  The second I walked in, my daughter yelled:  “Hey.  I just heard what you said in the meeting.”  How?  Some Mom told her kid what I said, who then texted my daughter.  So much for a ‘Parent’s’ meeting. 

    I do wish my kids knew what it was like to have to wait weeks just to get a letter from someone special; something they could hold, cherish and rediscover years later in some forgotten box.  But there’s no going back.  Like an Olympian, I have to focus on the challenge ahead, not the guy behind me.

    Right now, mine is teaching my teen how to drive.  She has mastered acceleration.  If I hold my breath just right, she can even park between two cars without removing their side mirrors.  Frankly, I’d like to put an egg between her foot and the brake.  What’s her REAL challenge besides scouring the road ahead for bicyclists, bolting dogs or bumpy potholes?  Anticipating the impending light change. . . then watching for the car that might run it.  You can’t simulate that.  It’s real. 

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