Don’t worry — I haven’t started acting old.

 

Recently I was turning into a parking lot and  saw a woman driving out whom I recognized, so while turning in I was also looking at the woman in the car that was driving out.

Unfortunately, because I was distracted I ran over the corner of the curb. It was a low curb so no damage was done, but it’s never a good thing to do that.   And the topper was that I quickly realized that the woman I was waving at wasn’t the person I knew.

I can just picture what that woman was thinking after witnessing me waving to a stranger while careening over the curb into the parking lot, “Somebody really ought to take that old lady’s car keys away — she’s obviously become a dangerous driver!”

Ha!  Luckily, I know she’s wrong.  I’ve done that kind of stuff all my life!

a drive on the wild side …

Recently we were at a reunion on the grounds of the hospital where I had my bi-lateral knee replacement in November.  Naturally, because orthopedic surgery is generally done on older people, most of the attendees were our age and older.  Having never been to this yearly event before, we really didn’t know what to expect, but the invitation made it sound like it would be a fun evening, so we were a little disappointed when as soon as we had had dinner the organizers began that favorite past-time of many seniors, Bingo. So we decided to call it an evening.  There were probably close to 1,000 people there (it was kind of impressive to realize how many knee, hip and back surgeries that huge throng of people represented), so it wasn’t like we would be missed.

We went outside the tent anticipating that there would be a shuttle bus to take us back to the far-away parking lot on the other side of the hospital’s campus, like the one that had brought us from there in the first place.

But as soon as we walked out, a little old guy on a golf cart zipped up in front of us and asked if we needed a lift.  We had seen golf carts being used in the adjacent parking lots, so we explained that we needed to go wayyy to the other side of the campus, expecting that that would tell him that we should wait for a road-worthy bus.

But he said, “Naaa, you don’t need a bus, I can take you.”  Okay, he seemed confident, so I got into the seat beside him and Hubby stood on the step on the back that was equipped with handrails.  And off we went.  Fast.  I didn’t notice, but Hubby may have had bugs in his teeth because his head was above the roof of the cart.  But it was definitely a quick trip, so he didn’t have to worry about that for too long … in fact he may have been so distracted by Old Guy’s driving that he didn’t even notice.

We drove all the way to the other side of the campus on the left side of the four lane paved road!  And either Old Guy couldn’t see well enough to know that the light at the intersection in the middle of the campus was red, or he just didn’t think it applied to golf carts, because we breezed right through it without even slowing down.  Probably much to the surprise of the driver of the car that was approaching on the road that had a green light!  I don’t think I screamed, in fact, Hubby and I didn’t say anything.  I guess we were in shock.

When we got to our car, Old Guy smiled, told us to enjoy the rest of our evening, and sped off into the evening, I’m sure looking for his next victims.

The food was good and we sat at a table of very nice people, but the ride back to our car was definitely the most memorable part of the evening!

Change is inevitable …

… but how we handle it is optional.

At the golf course the other day, when my friends and I approached the third tee, there was an older woman just sitting on the bench in the tee area, gazing out across the course.  When we walked up we said “Hi” and exchanged a few words with her about the weather (and that, for once, it wasn’t raining!).  She was pleasant but I thought she looked a little sad.  And I guess she felt she had to explain why she was sitting there, because she told us that her husband was playing a round and she was waiting for him.

A few holes later, I saw an older man I recognized on an adjoining fairway.  He is tall and wears a distinctive hat.  And I suddenly put two and two together.  For the four years I have played alot at this course, I have regularly seen that man and now I realized the woman we had just talked to, playing this course together.  Because they were always there, no matter what weekday I was there, I think that they must have played the course almost every day.

I don’t know why she wasn’t playing now, but it made me sad to see him playing alone, knowing that his favorite partner was back there sitting on a bench waiting for him.  But then it occurred to me to look at it another way — it’s great that he still brought her along and that she still chose to come along, even though she couldn’t play.  Good for both of them.

A Calming Memory

For many years as the boy stood at the end of the lane with his siblings waiting for the school bus, there was a man their parents knew named Irv who would drive by on his way to work in his vintage Model T Ford.  Because the boy had a fascination with cars he always watched for Irv and his cool car.

Years later when the boy was grown and now a policeman he was called to a disturbance at a home.  When he arrived, an elderly man was laying on the floor in a fetal position alternately sobbing and yelling belligerently.  The man’s adult daughter was standing near-by, crying.

When the officer asked what was going on, the woman explained that she and her husband could no longer take care of her father because his dementia was getting worse.  But when they told him an elder care home now had room for him and they would be taking him there that evening, he had immediately become  uncontrollable.

The officer approached the man on the floor, trying to think what he could do to help the situation.  But when he got down close to the man he realized who he was … it was Irv, the man he remembered from his childhood who owned the Model T Ford he had so admired.  He called the man by name and told him he was Art’s son.  And then he began to tell Irv his memories of his early morning waves to Irv in his great antique car.  Irv immediately quieted as he listened to the young officer’s memories of the old car he had restored himself and so enjoyed driving for years.

After a few minutes of reminiscing, the officer helped Irv to his daughter’s car and then left, sad to see a man from his past in such poor health, but glad that the memories he had shared with Irv had helped calm him.

Hubby was a police officer for 36 years so I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that he can still occasionally tell me a story from that time that I have never heard before.  He told me this story a couple days ago when something jogged his memory.

Is it just me?

When I go into the comments section of one of my posts to reply to a comment, there is a little notation next to the box where I will type my reply.  And do you know what it says?  “You are the author of this post.”

Thanks for the tip, WordPress.  Now I’d like to know who suggested that I might need to be told that.

 

My Father, My Mountain Guide

It has been my experience that faith gets easier as I get older.

Since I am a visual person, I can picture traveling through life as traveling up a winding road on a densely wooded mountain.

When I was young and at the bottom looking up, I could only see a little of the curvy road ahead and I had lots of anxiety and concern because I couldn’t see what was coming and this was an unfamiliar road.  And, even though I would ask for God’s help, it was hard to recognize how His hand was in the outcome of events.

But now that I’m older and closer to the top, it’s as if there are look-out points where I can look back and see the twists and turns in the road I’ve traveled.  And from this perspective it is so apparent how God guided, corrected and saved me on that road again and again.  In fact, I believe that sometimes when He not only answered a prayer but answered it in a far better or different way than I would have even thought to pray for, He was clearly demonstrating to me that it was Him, not me, who made that decision or solved that problem.

I still can’t see what awaits me beyond the next curve, but I’ve come to realize that whatever it is, I don’t have to worry because He is already there, waiting for me, ready to help me deal with whatever comes next.

May you be able to recognize God working in your life and may your faith be strengthened when you see the pattern of His loving guidance.

Jotting a memory jogger in the air!

You know how there are often lists of suggestions published from “studies” about different aspects of life?  Well, last week I saw one that particularly interested me because it was about ways that have been discovered to improve memory — something I don’t seem to have much of any more.

And one of the suggestions in the list that particularly struck me was one that made a connection between writing something down, i.e., the act of actually writing something, and your ability to remember it.  The point was made that if you hear the information and also write it, you are using two different parts of your brain to help you remember it.

It gave the example of a child solving a math problem by “writing” it with their finger in the air.

It said that, for instance, if you want to remember the name of a person you’ve just met, if paper and pen are available, writing the name down will help you remember it.  But, if they aren’t available, just writing it with a finger in the palm of your hand will also help.

This all made sense to me, so I have tried it a couple times and I think it actually did help.  Yesterday at golf, a friend returned a book I had loaned her and we talked about another I have that she would like to read.  Now, all I have to do is remember to take it to golf to give to her.

So I, to her great amusement, wrote in the air (as I said it aloud) “Book for Marilyn”.  And, I bet I have thought about taking that book to Marilyn next week a half dozen times in the approximately 24 hours since we talked about it.  Now THAT is an improvement!

So, I’m going to remember this little tip and see if it won’t help my woefully poor memory.

What 61 years of marriage looks like!

This is my oldest sister and her husband.

I got this look when I  suggested I get a picture of them kissing!

After he warmed to the idea that was no peck … that was an honest-to-goodness smooch!

We should all be so blessed to have such a long and happy marriage.

A voice of experience

First, let me just say this.  If you are one of my wonderful male readers, I want you to know that I know this isn’t about you.  I just don’t think men who are “middle age crazy” would be comfortable enough with who they are to spend any of their time reading a blog with a title about humor and faith.  My thought is that if you turn into a sleaze bag, you probably then have to work at being that 24/7!

My friend, C, at Stickhorse Cowgirls is a long-time divorce attorney.  She also happens to be a recent divorcee because her husband of over 30 years suddenly experienced this middle-age craziness and left her for a young woman who already had two children by men she was never married to, and they have since had a baby between them (how mind-boggling is that — he’s now 60 years old with a new baby!).

So, when I read C’s post here about Mel Gibson and the fact that his girlfriend recorded some of his rants, and is now being criticized for it, I knew for a fact that she definitely knows what she is talking about.

I wanted to share this excellent post because if there is anyone (woman OR man) reading this who is in an abusive relationship (and as C says, it isn’t just about hitting) or knows someone who is, I hope that C’s post will give you some insights and practical advice.

To me, this is what is the best about the blogging world — sharing of valuable insights and advice like this.  Thank you, C.

Marble Head

Yesterday I went for a follow-up visit to the oral surgeon who removed some of my wisdom teeth last week.

He said everything looks great and he has every expectation that my jaw bone will fill in nicely where the teeth were removed.  He remarked that it’s a little unusual in women “my age” to find such solid bones (he can say that because he’s about my age!).  Anyway, he said my jaw bone looks like marble!  I’m sure he meant that to be flattering, but the mental picture that flashed through my mind was of marble columns in very old buildings! Well, I guess that’s better than being told you have a jaw bone that looks like petrified wood!

Genetics are an interesting thing.  On the one hand, I unfortunately inherited, among other things, a predisposition to hearing loss and addictions (in my case, food!) and flat feet.  But on the other hand, I am fortunate to have inherited from my never-broke-a-bone-in-her-90-plus-years Mama, good dense bones.

I am thankful for that inherited trait.  But please don’t get any ideas from what the doctor said.  I’d just as soon not become known as Marble Head.