I have women friends who are aging. One person is very concerned with this process. She is not happy with the slight soft sag of her cheeks, the laugh lines that accumulate around eyes and mouth. She fights it. Grumps about aging; diets, exercises. She is unhappy about her age. And yet she is very beautiful.She looks 20 years younger than her passport must state. She has traveled and raised good human beings and had a career. She ages next to a husband who is lively and well and handsome and interested in her. Why this rage at aging? What do these signals mean to her?
Several other women come to mind who are similar in age. No pretense. Yes , wouldnt we all like to keep the tight buttocks of our teen years. But would our faces then reflect all the wonderous things we've seen and done?
One of my favorite 'girls' wears little makeup. Her laugh lines are prominent. Her eyes light up when she talks. Her hips are rounder than when I first met her. She became a Grandma this year. And now there is a slightly softer spot on her thighs to cuddle the bundle of joy who will look so like her someday.
Our DNA mistakes add up. The toll of our lifestyles settles into our lines. Our indulgences do tell. Somehow, I dont mind too much. I dont feel I have to compete with younger, fitter women. I want my face to have wrinkles . I hope I get lots of laugh lines.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Going to the Sea
I have a fridge magnet that says "I go to the sea to breathe". We are going to the ocean soon and I always feel excited about that first deep slow breath of salt tinged cool air. And the first peek of slate gray coastline.
The Pacific Ocean is a powerful place....the rugged rocks, twisty coastal roads, the long open beaches ( thanks oregon legislature). Some of my earliest memories are from the beach. My grandparents used to take me to go agate hunting. I remember being so awhirl at finding the perfect pearl like translucent rock. Each pebble was a jewel of course worthy of any national treasury. We would take home these treasures in our sand littered jacket pockets, and put them in Grandpas tumbler. Out would come magnificent shiny stones that sat in the palm of our hands glistening, better than any gold nugget. I still have a small tin of polished stones. And each time I feel the cool smooth touch of these polished agates across my hand, Im instantly back on the beach, my back turned upwind, my jacket hood up, my eyes shining; , calling "Grandpa, look, LOOK!"
The Pacific Ocean is a powerful place....the rugged rocks, twisty coastal roads, the long open beaches ( thanks oregon legislature). Some of my earliest memories are from the beach. My grandparents used to take me to go agate hunting. I remember being so awhirl at finding the perfect pearl like translucent rock. Each pebble was a jewel of course worthy of any national treasury. We would take home these treasures in our sand littered jacket pockets, and put them in Grandpas tumbler. Out would come magnificent shiny stones that sat in the palm of our hands glistening, better than any gold nugget. I still have a small tin of polished stones. And each time I feel the cool smooth touch of these polished agates across my hand, Im instantly back on the beach, my back turned upwind, my jacket hood up, my eyes shining; , calling "Grandpa, look, LOOK!"
Friday, August 22, 2008
What to do with grandmas stuff?
We collect things throughout our lives that we find meaningful. Most of our junk is just stuff thats fun to have. Then we inherit grandmas stuff. The old blanket that you napped under when you were three. The vase she use to put daffodils in on her kitchen table. A pin she used to always put on her winter coat lapel.
What happens to these items when we to pass, and the original memory passes as well. They are after all just objects, and many times not valuable.
And when you have no children to tell the tales of those lazy naps at grandmas house, it seems a sad passing.
No one will care that the double wedding ring quilt, slightly tattered at the edges, was the race track you won the Indy 500 on - While sleeping soundly of course. And the little glass black vase with poorly painted roses was what Grandpa gave Grandma on their wedding day as a gift. How sad that it will be passed up for a quarter at the Good will. And just looking at the Desert Rose plates brings the smell of Turkey dinner to mind.
They are all just things you know. But maybe those memories are adrift out there and will jog a smile from someone when it bumps into their dreams when they are napping on that quilt they found at an estate sale or the pie will taste extra yummy off the desert plate they found at an antique store.
What happens to these items when we to pass, and the original memory passes as well. They are after all just objects, and many times not valuable.
And when you have no children to tell the tales of those lazy naps at grandmas house, it seems a sad passing.
No one will care that the double wedding ring quilt, slightly tattered at the edges, was the race track you won the Indy 500 on - While sleeping soundly of course. And the little glass black vase with poorly painted roses was what Grandpa gave Grandma on their wedding day as a gift. How sad that it will be passed up for a quarter at the Good will. And just looking at the Desert Rose plates brings the smell of Turkey dinner to mind.
They are all just things you know. But maybe those memories are adrift out there and will jog a smile from someone when it bumps into their dreams when they are napping on that quilt they found at an estate sale or the pie will taste extra yummy off the desert plate they found at an antique store.
Friday, August 15, 2008
How to be 50 people
I hate having to make choices in life. I wish I could be 50 people and be in 50 different places at once. Ok, maybe only 5 people. That seems more reasonable. So of course I would be the dutiful and loving wife and stay in my town taking care of my husband, my garden, enjoying our togetherness and being with our friends...just enjoying. But then Id be a wonderwoman aunt off to help my nephews wife who just had a baby and is need of a few helping hands....but she is across the country. And then Id be with my other neice who is about to have a baby and needs to put her feet up....and then Id be some super hero nurse and help some family who needs some skilled hands.....And then Id be the care free adventuress careening through Italy and France on my motorbike....and then Id be the great authoress writing deep emotional novels beside a roaring Idaho river that stun the reading public....Oh wait. I forgot! Thats six things. And Im not a very good motorcycle rider yet....and I hate grammer. So maybe Ill just go get my husband a bowl of ice cream and he will smile and I'll know , for today, I made the right choice.
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