Gen X

Yeah, no I don’t think so

~ MaryG ~ 1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
What do you think gets better with age?

Your ability to say “no” gets better with age. Pleasing people (parents, teachers, bosses) seems so important when you’re young, especially to oldest daughters. Being “nice” is paramount, and nice people don’t say no. The older I get, the more free I feel to decline that invitation to travel with someone who irks me, join a potentially contentious or time-consuming church committee, or even take on a work assignment that’s outside my job descripton. I’d rather be kind than nice, if you know what I mean.

Flowers I sent to myself

Accepting AARP

~ MaryG ~ Leave a comment

According to Wikipedia, AARP (formerly called the American Association of Retired Persons) is an “interest group” in the United States focusing on issues affecting those over the age of fifty. It seems that every single American gets an AARP promotional mailing on or near their 50th birthday. It’s like a rite of passage. You get it, you open it, you groan (why are they ruining your birthday?) and you toss it as quickly as possible. But they do NOT relent. They keep sending you mail every six months or so.

Well, sometime between 57 and 58, I gave in. One of the mailings mentioned car rental discounts and I needed to rent a car, so I joined. The offer was $45 for a 5-year membership for me and my husband. (Later I got $8 back for paying with my Bank of America card.) Immediately upon joining, I saved $400 on a weeklong car rental. Why did I resist this for so long? (Because it’s for old people – duh!)

My husband has not yet accepted his membership. (He doesn’t want them to have his e-mail.) A friend asked if it was possible to access the discounts without actually saying the word “senior.” Another said they might join when they hit 60. Granted AARP does send a LOT of emails, but I’ve come to realize that joining 38 million other Americans as an AARP member is a way of accepting that I’m not alone and I’m not special. I can benefit from basic health, wellness, finance, and travel trips just like everybody else. (No, I did not realize that I should be getting 25 grams of protein per meal, including breakfast. And yes, I would like to see a list of the quaintest small towns in New England. Thank you!)

One of the things I was recently reminded of by an expert in AARP’s free, interactive “Staying Sharp” app is that you can cultivate positive emotions – like awe. Joining AARP can feel like giving up on your younger self, but there’s beauty in accepting the inevitability of aging. You’re just like everybody else. You’re basic – and you’re beautiful.

Semester Abroad

~ MaryG ~ 6 Comments

Describe a decision you made in the past that helped you learn or grow.

In college, I made the decision to study abroad for the fall semester of my junior year. I can’t remember exactly when or how I decided to go to Italy, but I think it was because my small New England liberal arts college strongly encouraged everyone to GO AWAY and the easiest choice was to just go to their campus in Rome. This was fall of 1985 and there were no cell phones or laptops. We were like…really…ABROAD. Travelers checks, passports, guidebooks and one landline for the entire floor. It wasn’t always easy. I had bad allergies from some kind of pollen there and had to take a lot of antihistamines. And the first time I brought my clothes to a lavanderia, they put the bag in the dryer with my clothes and the plastic lining melted and ruined every single thing I brought.

But I’m so glad I went. It was a major growth experience for me. I learned that I actually could speak, even think and dream, in a foreign language. I developed my love of art and museums. And most of all, I gained confidence and a sense adventure. There’s nothing quite like the excitement of cities, foreign cities, explored with other young friends and travelers. Everything and anything seemed possible then.

Semester abroad pals and me (far left) in a Paris hotel in the fall of 1985

Why Blog?

~ MaryG ~ 10 Comments

I’ve periodically kept diaries and journals over the years.  (I have a whole crate of them in the attic.)  At one point, in my 30s, I read through them all in an attempt to figure out my own personal “theology.”  (I did this for a class led by a minister at my Unitarian Universalist church.)

One embarrassing thing that I had forgotten about myself became clear as I read through those old journals: I was a cheater.  I had been caught numerous times in school passing notes or looking at other people’s papers.  Ouch!

Another thing I learned/remembered was that there was one song that had made a particularly big impression on me.  Billy Joel’s “Only the Good Die Young,” which was released in 1978, basically became my life’s permission slip to blow-off some of the more restrictive tenants of the Catholic Church.  (Google the lyrics and imagine yourself a heretofore “nice” Catholic teenager.)

So why blog?  I mean…it’s public.  Why not just keep journaling – in private?

I guess the answer for me is permanence and connection.

All my old journals could easily get tossed out in the next move, or ruined by the next interior water mishap…or God forbid, burned in a fire.  (Our attic, home of my old box of journals, narrowly escaped a lightning strike last year!  See photo.)  If you put your thoughts on-line, they’re basically permanent.  I realize I may come to regret that, but at the moment I like the idea of having some sort of permanent record that I existed and had thoughts.

The idea that someone else might read my blog, and perhaps relate to it in some way, is also appealing.  As someone who was born and came of age in the pre-internet world, it sometimes seems sad that people are now so glued to their various screens.  Still, I’ve come to understand that meaningful human interaction and connection can and does happen on-line.  Some people seem to find great joy sharing their lives on Facebook and other social media.  I thought blogging might be like that, but with just a bit more room to expand.

Lightening strike
My son in front of a tree that was struck by lightning in our front yard in August 2015.

 

Wassail

~ MaryG ~ 5 Comments

I’ll always remember a scene in one of the last episodes of Seinfeld where Jerry tells George to quit complaining.  (Grumpy George is tired of waiting for his 15 minutes of fame.)  Jerry says, “At least you have your health.”  George responds, “Health’s not good enough. I want more than health. Health’s not doing it for me anymore. I’m sick of health.” 

Back when it aired in the late 1990s, I was in my thirties. I remember laughing and thinking George had a point.  I mean, it’s nice to be healthy and all, but is this all there is?  Will I ever be rich?  Or famous?  Even for 15 minutes, like Andy Warhol had promised?

It’s funny how a couple of decades can change your attitude.  Now, I’m never “sick of health.”  I understand how fortunate I am to have it.  With so many friends and acquaintances my own age hit with truly serious diagnoses, from that nasty bitch Cancer to crippling clinical depression, I (almost) never take my own health for granted.

Yeah, my knee hurts sometimes, but I can still take a long walk outside or ride my bike to the next town.  I know I’m lucky.

Here’s to continued (or a return to) good health for all this Christmas.

Wassail (noun): an early English toast to someone’s health

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It starts with the glasses.

~ MaryG ~ 3 Comments

8/26/23: Somehow my very first blog post (from November 2015) got “unpublished” and turned back into a draft, so I’m re-publishing it now, 8 years later. UPDATE: my eyes are worse and those millennials are 40.

I remember exactly when it happened. It was four years ago. I had just turned 46 and I was trying to figure out how to use the new digital camera I got for my birthday. I was staring at the tiny little buttons and settings for quite a while. Then I looked up, took the picture, and when I looked back down at my camera, the little settings were blurry. WTF! Just a second ago, they were perfectly clear and now I couldn’t see them at all. I ran inside and sat down. I immediately thought “brain tumor,” but I decided to have some cold water, just in case it was dehydration. Miraculously, when I picked up the camera again, the small settings were clear.

After that, I occasionally had trouble reading tiny print. Having been blessed with perfect 20/20 vision my entire life, this became the first undeniable sign of middle-agedness. Sure enough, the eye doctor confirmed that this type of thing is part of the normal aging process and comfortingly reassured me that “it only gets worse.”

In the beginning, I embraced the fashionable aspect of reading glasses. They come in so many cool colors and designer styles! I bought way more glasses than I actually needed and wore them jauntily atop my head whenever I wasn’t using them. Now, at 50, I just keep a pair in as many rooms and pocketbooks as possible, because it’s a real pain in the neck to run around looking for glasses every time you want to read something smaller than a STOP sign.

But here’s the thing…if you find yourself without a pair, say in a dimly-lit restaurant, or at church choir practice, someone almost always offers you theirs! “Here you go, borrow mine” someone will say, and takes the glasses right off their own face and hands them to you. You see, you’re never alone in the 50+ club. We might not be as skinny and sexy as those 30-year olds at the next table, but we know something that they don’t fully understand yet: Nobody escapes…time marches on for everyone. So when you take those sparkly Target-brand readers from your friend’s ever-so-slightly wrinkled hand, give her the wink that says “thanks and yeah, I know, it’s happening to us too.” I’ve got you old friend.