old age

Letter to my 90-year-old self

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Dear Future Yearstricken,

 

 

Do you remember me? I didn’t think so. You lived my life several decades ago. I thought I’d better write you a letter to remind you what your plans for old age were.

 

 

  • You can only whine and complain on Tuesdays from 3 – 5 p.m., so make good use of that time. When you were younger, you used to say, “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.” Now, of course, you’ll have to put on your big girl Depends and deal with life’s inconveniences: your aches and pains, the decreasing level of intelligent life around you, and the annoying habit of people who never learned to speak clearly and loudly.

 

 

  • Open that Excel file called Stories I Like to Tell that I left on your computer, iPad, and phone. I tried to sort them chronologically, so the stories of your childhood start the list. You’ll have to fill in names of new people across those top cells. If you can’t fill them in, ask someone for help. Then every time you tell that person one of your stories, put an “x” under the person’s name. If that’s too hard, ask the person listening to the stories to mark the ones he or she has heard before. Once the person has heard all of your stories, feel free to just make stuff up. They weren’t there, so they’ll never know the difference.

 

Type of text commonly used in books in the year 2014.

Type of text commonly used in books in the year 2014.

 

  • Read every day. I hope by the time you receive this, the alarming trend of making letters smaller and fuzzier will reverse itself so that you can read books and magazines. When you were a child, all print was normal-sized, crisp, sharp, and easy to read. Somewhere around your 30s or 40s, printers of all kinds became sloppy and started using smaller, blurrier fonts. The you that is me right now has been forced to use glasses for printed material and the magnifier function on the computer. You may have to rely on audio versions of books, although computers should be able to read aloud better by mid-century.

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  • Keep learning about the world around you. It may do for the people around you to talk and care about only local affairs, but it won’t do for you. You cannot turn away from the pain and suffering of other lands anymore than you can ignore the beauty and wonder of other cultures. Your community extends across all of the continents. You share the same story with every other human being.

 

 

  • Practice mercy and forgiveness every day, or at least every day except Tuesdays from 3 – 5 p.m. when you are busy whining and complaining. You never learned much from punishment other than fear, but you have been transformed by the mercy and forgiveness you have received. Avoid carrying grudges; they’re incredibly heavy and tend to throw your back out and make you spiteful.

 

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  •  Laugh as much as possible, and often at yourself. Cry, too. Keep feeling and savoring life. It’s okay to lick the bowl at the end of the meal; you don’t have that many more meals left.

 

 

  • Don’t worry about what other people think about you. Most people find thinking troublesome, and those that bother to think won’t spend much time thinking about you.

 

 

  • Enjoy your coffee, wine, and dark chocolate. If you’re alive at 90, you’ve proved they are good for you.

 

 

  • Pay attention every day. Look, really look, at what is around you: the number of petals on an orchid, the different shades of green in your spring garden, the mechanism of a zipper, the way your knuckles bend (hopefully), and the variety of bird songs in summer. If you don’t understand something, look it up. Find out. You need this as much as coffee, wine, and dark chocolate.

 

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  • Tell the people around you that you love them. Hug them every chance you get. Don’t worry about embarrassing them or yourself. Tell the child that your heart nearly bursts every time she comes through the door. Tell your daughters that they are two of life’s greatest gifts. Tell your husband that a day has never  by that you haven’t marveled at his love and patience. It’s okay to repeat yourself this time. Your family and friends may tire of your stories, but they’ll never tire of being loved.

 

Your once and former self,

 

Yearstricken

 

Frequently Not Asked Questions: One

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Frequently Not Asked Questions (FNAQ) is a new feature on this blog. This feature will appear infrequently, so I suggest that you frequently not expect it.

 

How did you get so old?

 

This is a great question. Thank you for asking.

 

First, let me say that it takes time. You cannot rush into it. I’ve discovered what I call the Seven Secrets to Growing Older. (It’s the title of my new book, soon to be launched on the Amazon.) I don’t want to give too much of it away, but I’ll let you in on the first secret: it’s called Monday. In the book, I explain how Monday and the six steps that follow are the key to getting older. I am confident that by practicing these steps over and over, anyone can grow older. In fact, I am so confident that my book comes with a lifetime guarantee!

 

Second, it helps if you start when you’re very young. I began at such a young age that I don’t have any recollection of when I started. Just as many writers can’t remember a time when they didn’t write, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t getting older. Please don’t think I’m bragging; I’m merely answering the question.

 

Third, you have to stay consistent. You can’t just stop and pick it up at a later date. Once you stop, you lose your chance to continue. This is probably the number one reason so many people fail to get old.

 

Fourth, you have to practice breathing. It’s related to the third point because it requires consistency. Some people find it tedious – in and out, in and out, all the livelong day – but I’ve found that once you do it enough, it becomes automatic. In fact, now I feel that I can’t live without it.

 

I credit time, an early start, consistency, and breathing with my ability to grow old. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my mother who not only encouraged me in my early efforts but also modeled the seven steps, soon to be revealed in my book. Of course, I don’t discount food and water any more than I discount my book.

 

(For more information about my book, stay here and read that first point again. For more information about the Amazon, go here.)

In disguise

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My body is serious about getting old. Each day it tries a little harder to sag or wrinkle, and I have to say, it’s doing a very good job. The “me” inside the body tried getting older once, tried to be suave and debonair, but it didn’t work. Say the word “suave” and I see shampoo and thighs (both are “proven to volumnize”); say the word “debonair” and I visualize air freshener: Does your home smell naïve? Try Debonair! It’s the smell of sophistication.

Not that I can’t be serious; it’s just that I can’t be serious for long periods of time.

 

The other day I was in the car listening to WPR (Wisconsin Public Radio) as former U.S. Senator Russ Feingold unbuckled the truth about what is happening inside the Washington Beltway. When I stopped at a light, I noticed the car in front of me had a license plate from Iowa. I forgot all about politics because I suddenly wanted to flag the man over to ask him his last name. Let it be Lott, I thought. If not, I’ve got to stop this internal rhyming and move to Iowa, change my last name to Lott, and have people call me Iowa Lott. As I turned the corner ,I saw a sign at the gas station that said, “Pay Inside.” I envisioned myself buying gas, going inside, and yapping. Then I would point to the word “Pay” on the sign and say, “I’m half-dyslexic.”

 

Russ was still talking sensibly when I got back, and I made it safely home without pulling anyone over or yapping inside of the gas station.

 

Pretending to be a grownup is a tiresome, but necessary business. If I said and did the things my fifth-grade self would like to say and do, I would be institutionalized. That’s why it’s hard to fault my body for its relentless determination to grow old. It’s the perfect disguise.

 

 

‡Spray bottle photo borrowed from http://www.mt-packaging.com/and slightly altered by yearstricken, who loves a company with a sense of humor. They sell packaging, like empty cans to put your spray in, and their name is MT.

Descartes at 30: I think, therefore I am; Descartes at 60: I age, therefore I melt

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Student: Teacher, I like your turtleneck. Is it one of those new scrunchy kinds?

Yearstricken: (Places hands on throat – her own, not the student’s) I’m not wearing a turtleneck. And student, this is not the way to an A.

Student: Does teacher want chocolate?

Yearstricken: Yes, very dark, on the bitter side.

As the student walks away, Yearstricken thinks she hears the student mutter, “Like teacher?”

This exchange is almost true: Yearstricken loves dark chocolate; her students know this. And her face is starting to melt. Her cheeks are starting to hang off her face. People call them jowls. This makes Yearstricken scowl, howl, growl and make rhymes. A lot of her face is melting down her neck, but it has nowhere to go because her shoulders are in the way. Her skin is puddling there.

(Time out for dark chocolate.)

Hi, I’m back and speaking in the first person again. Chocolate helps me that way. One of my recurring dreams is that I can fly. By merely raising my arms, I can lift off and fly all around the dream universe. After watching those videos where people in wingsuits jump off mountains and fly, I realize that these dreams are prophetic and I’ve been preparing all my life to jump off mountains and fly, but without the wingsuit. My arms are ready, very flappable, that is, able to flap. In fact, I could go as a bat on Halloween if I painted them black.

So, where does Descartes come into all this? He watched a candle melt and developed an entire system of knowledge, how we know that we know what we know. He was a very knowing man. He called it the Wax Argument and in his book, Meditations, he includes this line: The wax can be extended in ways that I cannot accurately imagine.

The Wax Argument - I age, therefore I melt

Really, that’s what he said. I cannot make up things like that.

If Descartes had made it to 60 (he died at age 56), I have no doubt he would have made the connection to that candle and the way people melt as they age. Also, he would be amazed at the ways in which my candle is extending. If he were here, I’m sure he’d thank me for making all this clear.

You Were Here

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Darts on blouses are useful for younger women as a sign marker, You Are Here. In old age, the darts keep pointing, but the breasts have been there and seen that. Now, they are off exploring the belly and making plans to visit the knees before they die.