AGEFULLY AGING

Inspirational reflections on this and that.

Recent Posts

  • MEANING, MESSAGES AND MERMAIDS

         My 13 year-old still likes me to tell her stories at night.  Trust me, after the first few years of doing this I ran out of ideas–and yet–somehow they still come.  Often they involve animals or mermaids (since I AM one), but ALWAYS they have a message.  This is NOT intentional on my part.  It just happens. 

         Recently my kids informed me that I ALWAYS have a message when I relate a conversation or tell a story.  Apparently, they would be happier WITHOUT one.  Unfortunately, it seems that asking me to share anything without a message is like telling me to shave my head, then go buy a hairbrush.  It just doesn’t make sense.  It seems my brain was pre-wired to search for meaning in all things no matter how mundane.  

         Maybe, even, it was Grandmother’s admonition that, “Everything happens for a reason.*  For example, when the volume quit some months back on our new TV set, I did put new batteries in the remote & fiddled with the knobs a few times.  It also occurred to me to call Best Buy & get someone out to fix it as it is still likely covered by the warranty.  However, I really didn’t feel like listening to “the options,” pressing the appropriate numbers, being caller #26 and sitting on hold.  So, I never dialed the number.  For the first couple of days I watched the weather channel  a few times with no sound.  That seemed kind of silly so I simply stopped turning the TV on at all.  If I wanted to know the weather, I just opened the door and went outside. 

         Despite my lack of connection with the world, however, I am aware that a volcano has erupted and spread ash over much of Europe, curtailing air traffic.  I am also aware that Tiger Woods is playing golf again.  Come to think of it, there is a rather funny connection between those two events, but I shall not relate that here.  It might give this message meaning and I can’t have that tonight. 

         I have a bedtime story to tell.  It will begin with, “Once upon a time, there was the most beautiful, little girl, perfect in every way except one:  she had no hair.  Her parents had hair.  Her friends had hair.  Why, even her little dog had hair.  She did, however, have one, treasured possession; the most exquisite, ebony hairbrush with the figure of a long-haired mermaid carved in the handle. . .(* Excerpt from, “Kissing Tomatoes,”    http://www.helen-hudson.com)

  • THE HUMOR OF ALZHEIMER’S

         “There’s nothing funny about Alzheimer’s,” the woman in the audience told me.  “It’s just awful–every single part of it–just awful.”  As I recall I had just shared some funny moments my husband and I had spent with my grandmother who had Alzheimer’s for the 13 years she lived in our home.  Keep in mind, I said, “funny moments.”  Thirteen years holds a lot more time than that. 

         However, if you think about it, how many “funny moments” did you have today?  Did anyone make you laugh?  More importantly, did YOU make anyone laugh?  Since you woke up this morning, how much actual fun have you had?  Or, look at it this way, how much joy did you squeeze for yourself out of the last 12 hours?  Somewhere, between punching the time clock, getting to appointments on time, driving the kids, paying the bills, and getting dinner on the table, did you really have a LOT of fun? 

         Hmm.  I’m thinking back.  Okay, I had one, really terrific moment this afternoon while I was grocery shopping.  The aisles were empty and I couldn’t resist.  Yes, in a wild burst of spontaneity, I did, indeed get a running start and jump on my cart, flying past both the butcher and the dear, old woman trying to get me to sample something weird-looking.  Those few seconds felt really, really good–not just because I was getting a free ride, but because it made the people around me smile.  In fact, I did it again as I headed into the checkout aisle where the lanes were blissfully empty.  “I’ll take you here,” squealed the gal with enthusiasm.  Now, how often do your hear THAT when you go shopping? 

         We tried to find the same joy when caring for Grandmother.  She had no memory, so we told her, sometimes on a daily basis, that it was our birthday and would she sing to us?  She did.  One afternoon I tied a helium balloon in her hair simply because it made me smile to look at it.  She, however, had no idea that it was there at all.  When she asked me for the zillionth time where our baby (her granddaughter) came from, I finally said “the mailbox.”  The answer not only satisfied her curiosity but also made me giggle.  When Grandmother stood straight up in front of the congregation during the minister’s sermon and announced to everyone:  “This is boring.  He’s just awful.  Let’s go,” did we laugh?  Well, not right there, but trust me, we did in the car as we were driving away.*  So, you tell me:  is Alzheimer’s funny?  Guess it depends on you.  (*Excerpt from, “Kissing Tomatoes”, http://www.helen-hudson.com)

  • SIX YEAR-OLD SHARES SECRET OF LIFE

         I was raised by a grandmother who believed you should put your heart in the moment.  She never looked back or too far forward and it drove me crazy.  Why?  Because her complacency appeared to me as a total lack of ambition.  I had plans.  She just smiled with a deep sense of inner peace that completely eluded me.  Still does.*  

         Now every day I swim 1/2 mile in a usually too cold, chlorine filled, cement pool.  Back & forth, back & forth.  16 back and forths every day.  Yes, EVERY day.  No, I don’t particularly enjoy swimming, but my knees are too shot to run & it keeps the arthritis at bay.  I detest the too tight cap that rips my hair every time I pull it on and off.  Absolutely loathe the goggles that leave round, racoon marks around my eyes for hours afterwards.  In fact, I truly hate every single agonizing stroke.  What’s even more ridiculous is that even though I KNOW I am going to swim every morning –I delay getting there as long as possible.  Yesterday, for example, I actually pulled the whole dryer out just to clean lint from behind it.  Fortunately, I hadn’t done it in a while and managed a full 1/2 hour delay.  Anything to keep from getting to that swim.  But when it’s over I’m a new person & fairly bubble with joy as I float out the YMCA door. 

         Today, there was a little boy in the lane next to me.  He was merely paddling a bit and then floating on a styrofoam noodle while he stared out the window.  I huffed and puffed past him several times.  ‘Just wait ’till he’s older,’ I thought to myself.  ‘He’ll be trying to stay in shape and huffing and puffing, too.’  I did the backstroke and the butterfly but the waves I created didn’t seem to disturb the simple joy he seemed to find in just floating.  Finally I stopped.  “No school today, huh?” I asked him.  “Nope,” he said with a smile.  “How old are you?” I continued.  “Six,” he replied.  “Oh,” I said slightly surprised, “I figured you were at least seven.”  He looked straight at me with his gentle, blue eyes.  “Well,” he paused, “I WILL be seven on Saturday.” He seemed mystified that I had guessed so closely.  “You mean to tell me that in two days you will be seven?  Most kids would say, ‘I’m almost seven.’  He just smiled, looked back out the window and replied, “Well, right now I’m just happy being six.”  For a moment, I saw my grandmother.  (* Excerpt from “Kissing Tomatoes,” http://www.helen-hudson.com)    

  • IF YOU CAN’T LAUGH ABOUT IT, YOU’LL JUST CRY

    30 years ago I saw myself on TV for the first time and was absolutely floored.  It had nothing to do with my ill-fitting outfit or the strange way I had done my hair with barrettes that stuck out at weird angles.  It had nothing to do with anything I said during the interview with the talk show host in Cincinnati.  What absolutely flabbergasted me was that through the entire 10 minute spot, I never stopped smiling.  Never.  No matter what he said or how I responded, here came that grin.  Now I don’t remember being particularly happy that day.  In fact, I was pretty nervous.  And while it got me thinking I never did figure it out–until last night.

    We had company for dinner; two dear, longtime friends and a few folks we didn’t know at all.  I’m pretty sure I smiled all night, because when I wasn’t smiling I talked nonstop telling stories that made me and our guests laugh, a lot.  Truth is, life is fairly angst-ridden right now and frankly the LAST thing I needed yesterday was extra hours of cooking & cleaning—and yet–there was all that beautiful, cascading laughter.  Even the teenagers were singing downstairs.  So what gives?

    My grandmother was the finest person I have ever known.  Now she didn’t really laugh a lot.  In fact, she didn’t really smile that much either.  In fact, if you take the 95 years she lived and subtracted all the unhappy ones, I’m not sure the happy ones would even add up to double digits.  But she had the right philosophy about ALL of them:  “If you can’t laugh about it, you’ll just cry,” she often said.   She said it the morning I woke up, at 13, with the mumps & had to miss a party I had planned on for weeks.  She said it the day some high school boys teased me about being flat-chested.  She said it in the middle of an argument I was having with my new husband over his leaving the toilet seat up.  She said it 40 years ago the first time she told me about her husband’s unfaithfulness.  Last night, as I was washing up the last of the dishes, I ‘heard’ her say it again.  (Excerpt from, “Kissing Tomatoes,” http://www.helen-hudson.com.

  • KISSING YOUR TOMATOES!

         Exactly two weeks ago today, I began this blog having no idea what to expect.  Imagine both my shock and pleasure having just discovered this afternoon that 450 of you have actually CLICKED on my little page of thoughts!  I am both pleased and certainly humbled.  When one writes, it is always alone in a room with the hope that someday, somewhere, someone might actually read it and find something of value. 

         My Granny Jo, whom I wrote about in, “Kissing Tomatoes,” and I had a little ‘thing’ we did upon kissing each others cheek:  ‘I’m gonna kiss your tomatoes,’ one of us would say.  Ultimately, of course, it led to, “I’m gonna kiss your peaches.”  And then, when she grew old and her cheeks were wrinkly, I often said, “I’m gonna kiss your little apricots.”  Silly stuff–and yet it found its way to the title.  

         When I think about it, though, it really is the ‘little things’ in life that often make the deepest impressions on us.  For the last few years, when my husband gets up before I do (which is often), he makes me a cup of coffee and leaves it on the counter.  Even though he has done this at least a hundred times, I am always touched when I see it there.  As I pick it up, I can tell how long he has been up from the temperature of the coffee.  If it is still quite hot, he has just gone to work.  If it is quite cold, I know I am too late arising!!  

         I have so come to count on this ‘little’ thing that several weeks ago when I went into the kitchen and it wasn’t there, I actually had a quiet little panic inside.  ‘Is he all right?’ I worried.  ‘Has something happened?’ I wondered.  Turns out the machine was just out of water and in his rush to work, he hadn’t had time to fill it.  So, thank you for taking a little moment of your day to share a piece of mine.  I am presently savoring the 450 little cups of coffee you ‘clicked’ upon my counter.   (http://www.helen-hudson.com)

  • YOU CAN TEACH AN OLD DOG NEW TRICKS

    “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”  If you’re like me, you’ve probably said this so often that you actually believe it.  Funny what we feed our minds with, not to mention our bodies.  Nutritionists say we “are what we eat.”  Yup.  When I was a waitress plowing through my daily diet of cheeseburgers, chocolate milkshakes and fries, I looked exactly like what you’d expect.  The same holds true for our minds.  Although you can’t see into my head and it is very, very dark in the deep recesses of my curvy little cerebellum, I AM what I THINK.  Don’t argue with me because I have been around long enough to know the concrete, crystalline truth of that statement. 

         When I get up in the morning and think it’s gonna be a lousy day, it is.  When I actually have a lousy day but one teeny good thing happens and I focus on it, it becomes a great day.   They say we only use 10% of our brain.  I think we waste at least half of that thinking stupid, self-defeating thoughts that we eventually come to believe–not because they’re actually true but because we’ve thought them so long.  So, I finally decided at age 50 instead of looking in the mirror and totally freaking out when I beheld all the crow’s-feet & gray hair, I would try a new approach. 

         You now will find me, often in public restrooms, passing a mirror, looking smack at it and saying out loud:  “Wow! What a gorgeous face.  World you’re lucky to have me one more day!”  Okay, so some people don’t get it but back to the new tricks.  When my grandmother came to live with us she was 82 and well into Alzheimer’s.  She had completely lost the ability to tie her shoelaces so we bought her velcro tennies instead.  However, at 94, she actually figured out how to do it again!  Why?  Because she watched me teach my two year-old over and over.  

         Now I probably have no right to use the above title as I’ve never owned a dog, taken care of one or lived in a home where a dog existed.  However, right now I am actually thinking about getting a real, live, tail-wagging, precious puppy; one that might teach me some new tricks.  So, please, if you know of a breed that doesn’t jump on you, slobber everywhere, or bark too loudly, just let me know.  (shoelace vignette taken from “Kissing Tomatoes,” http://www.helen-hudson.com.)

  • HELEN HUDSON HERE: BABY BOOMER SANDWICH ON WRY

         I never made it to Woodstock.  I was too young, didn’t drive and lived in the Arizona desert.   I listened to the music though, with a volume guaranteed to blow out eardrums for miles.  Couldn’t get enough of the music.  Dragged the needle back, over and over, to replay my favorite songs.   Wore lovebeads, went braless and flashed the peace sign to total strangers.  Pretended I WAS Janis Joplin in the shower with the door closed.  And while my generation did sing its share of romance & heartbreak songs, the REAL message of that era was:  FREEDOM. 

         At Woodstock, Tim Hardin sang, “A Simple Song of Freedom.”  Joan Baez, AND Joe Cocker sang “I Shall Be Released.”  The Who cranked out, “I’m Free.”  Crosby, Stills & Nash even asked us to, “Find The Cost of Freedom.”  My all time fave was Richie Havens,” singing “Freedom” with a passion and abandon that shook up my insides.  But who would ever have guessed that those barefoot, pot smoking, long-haired, free love children would find themselves so unfree 40 years later? 

         Our generation is not only finding their own kids still at home but now are facing the prospect of Mom or Dad also moving into that spare room over the garage.  Why?  You might blame the economy for the 20 something’s moving back.  You might shake your fist at science for making sure we live longer but the truth is we really didn’t prepare for the prospect of aging.  Nursing homes have long waiting lists & the price tag is steep. 

         Every 70 seconds someone will be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.  No, it wasn’t the drugs.  It’s our high tech, lazyboy lifestyle and it’s catching up with us.  What to do?  Move pops into that spare room.  You’ll save a ton of ‘bread.’  The kids are ‘free’ to keep their music blasting.  He might be a bit hard of hearing but music is good for the soul.  Feel free to put some black light posters up in his room.  Visual stimulation is healthy for the aging brain.  Take him everywhere you go & listen to his stories, no matter how often he repeats them.  Nothing makes an old heart happier. 

    Then, if you’re real lucky, YOUR kids will put up with YOU when you start telling those Woodstock stories over and over and over again.  I finally found the cost of freedom the day we moved Granny in with us and it was worth every, single penny.  (From “Kissing Tomatoes,” http://www.helen-hudson.com)  P. S. Just read that 20% of us should EXPECT to get Alzheimer’s.

  • CATS MAY HAVE NINE LIVES—WE DON’T

         Before we had our cat, Skitter, I thought that people who doted on their pets were complete idiots.   ‘It’s not like they can talk to you or do anything productive,’ I used to say.  But when my oldest turned six and that tiny ball of fluff arrived, I did an about-face.  I became downright besotted.  Even though I was the one who fed her, changed the litter and made the vet appointments, she was worth it.  The kids loved her and even Dad came around the day she plunked in his lap and began to purr. 

         After awhile I was certain that she understood me.  ‘We’ had conversations understood only by us.  I did all the talking but I was sure she listened.  Her ears even cocked towards the sound of my voice.  And get this:  I brushed her with my own hairbrush!  For 9 years, she followed us coast to coast, grew bigger, navigated puberty w/ my oldest and shred a few pieces of furniture in the process.   

         One afternoon I found her licking the dinner bell.  Odd.  The next day she wouldn’t eat & hid herself deep in the closet.  Once the vet diagnosed feline leukemia, the only hope was a blood transfusion.  He said she’d be in pain and likely wouldn’t hold on, so I let her go.  It was hard and haunted me for months.  

         Now my neighbor has a dog.  He loves strutting behind that highly groomed pooch.  Treats him like he’s the Crown Prince of Something.  Picks up his poop in a plastic bag as if he were gathering rare gems.  Calls him, “Buddy.”  Talks to him with such affection and kindness that the day he first spoke to me I was taken aback.  He’s not a very nice guy.  In fact, in 3 years, we’ve only spoken twice.  During our  last conversation, talk drifted to aging parents.  “My mother got that dementia thing,” he told me.  “Put her in a home and that was that.  Don’t know what all the fuss is about.  You can put ’em anywhere.  Doesn’t matter.  They don’t know where they are anyway.”  Wonder what he’ll do when Buddy gets old and loses his swagger.   (http://www. helen-hudson.com) 

  • THE “A” WORD

         When I was a teenager, you had your mouth washed out with soap if you used the “A” word.  Now I hear it almost daily, coming out of the mouths of baby boomers, but it stands for something else:  Alzheimer’s.  Statistics now say half a million people will be diagnosed with it this year alone.  As little as six months ago that ‘statistic’ was considerably lower.  What’s happening to us?  We’re losing our marbles at an alarming rate. 

         Somewhere along the road of “peace” and “free love” we got complacent.  We ‘did our thing’ and ‘found ourselves’ and now many of us, despite the transcendental meditation induced stupor of all things Beatle are losing those same ‘selves.’  The bell-bottom generation is bottoming out.  Some of their kids are already reserving spots in nursing homes and they’re not ‘gone’ yet.   So, when The Wall Street Journal (March 30) tells you things aren’t looking so good, you pay attention. 

         But I’ve been paying attention since 1982 when my grandmother moved in with my newlywed husband and me.  Granny, my best friend and Smith college graduate, was as loony as a tune the afternoon she walked through our front door carrying Alzheimer’s along with her suitcase.  She kissed tomatoes in the market, talked to the TV set when it wasn’t on and covered our house with Kleenex to protect us from evil spirits. 

         Within weeks of feeding her regular, healthy meals, insisting she exercise daily and getting her involved in the world again, she was beating us both at Scrabble.  It works.  Okay, so it took science & a slew of researchers the last 30 years to figure it out–but it works.  So before your kids start reading you nursing home brochures, do yourself a favor:  Flip off the TV.  Shut down the computer.  Push those last 3 doughnuts down the garbage disposal.  Walk out the door and start singing, “Here Comes The Sun.”  (Yeah, they’ve discovered music is good for us, too).   http://www.helen-hudson.com    

  • NO ALZHEIMER’S IN THIS GYM!

         As I headed towards the YMCA pool this morning, all the ‘old’ ladies were coming out of their water aerobics class.  One said, “Hey!  How did that Alzheimer’s talk go?”  At the mere mention of the “A” word, another piped up:  “Girls if you don’t wanna get Alzheimer’s, throw out ALL of your aluminum pans.”  As another removed her chlorine-chewed, flowered bathing suit, she chimed in:  AND don’t eat junk, just lots of fruits and vegetables.”  “I hate salad,” muttered someone in the distance.  “Oh, and NO hydrogenated fat.  It clogs your arteries.”  “Got that,” added another pulling on her pink velour sweatpants.  “But the BEST thing we can do is exercise.  That’s why I’m here 3 times a week.”  A locker slammed to my right.  “3 times a week?” said the semi-naked, locker slammer.  “I read you have to exercise EVERYday.”  Indeed.  But ALL of them were also ‘exercising’ what science has now proven:  increasing our social networks & contact with others will slow or even stave off the progress of the disease.  (http://www.helen-hudson.com)

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