Dame Maggie Smith

Today, I want to pay tribute to the actress Dame Maggie Smith, who passed away yesterday at the age of 89 with her family present. 

Aging with grace....

Many remember this award winning actor for her roles as Professor Minerva McGonagall in seven Harry Potter movies and Violet Crawley in the Downton Abbey television series and related movies, but her movie career spanned over 60 years.  Smith was in some 50 movies ranging from the Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.  She could do it all - dance, sing, comedy. She took on serious roles.  She did theater, movies, television, and acted in various Shakespearean plays, ranging from roles in Othello to Richard III to Twelfth Night.

Today, let's go back a few years. 

Playing a teacher in The Pride of Miss Jean Brodie.

Desdemona in Othello.

She also made appearances on the Carol Burnett show.  Here is one of them.

 Maggie Smith and Carol Burnett sing.

A tribute.

RIP to another great gone.

Blues Not Just on the Bridge 2024

The month of festivals lasting from mid-August to mid-September (and even a bit beyond this year, due to at least one rain delay), continued Saturday with our 23rd annual Blues on the Bridge.  This free concert each September brings both local bands and talent who have performed with nationally known artists to downtown Binghamton, New York.

It seemed like things were so normal.   Well, maybe they are.  The new normal, that is.

But first, the good stuff.

This bridge, built in 1886 and currently only used by pedestrians, was the original bridge the concert was held on.  It's now held on a much sturdier bridge  

The signature statue at each annual concert.

Of course, free is not free.  This event takes a lot of fundraising and t-shirt sales (I proudly own several of the t-shirts from over the years), advertisers, and other promotions.  But we are so fortunate to have this September music fest.

People of all ages comes out.  The weather is usually great.

But then, the world intrudes. Today is the anniversary of a good friend's death and this year I'm missing her and my wisdom.

Yes, I know what she would say about my mood today.  She would tell me to put on my big girl panties and face the world, just like she did during her second and final battle with cancer.

But I also wonder what she would have thought about our current world.

Sunday, the second attempted assassination of a former President and current Presidential candidate in a little over two months.

A city of about 58,000 people in southwest Ohio continue to be terrorized by bomb threats against schools, a hospital, and a college, as the latest episode of what can happen when your city is in the bulls eye of social media, as memes continue to go viral.  I will not mention what the topic of discussion is but, if you don't live in the United States and haven't heard of Springfield, Ohio, you will quickly find out what is happening if you do a search.

Ukraine.  The Middle East. Other places at war.

And the more trivial.

The continued list of major league baseball players who played in my youth but are now dying, grows bigger.  Just think, this year - Bud Harrelson, Carl Erskine, Ken Holtzman, Jerry Grote, Willie Mays, Orlando Cepeda,  And now, Eddie Kranepool, back on September 8. Like me, he was from the Bronx.  He played his entire major league career for the NY Mets.  He was only in high school when the Mets signed him.  18 years with the Mets, more than anyone other Mets player.  What amazes me is that I didn't even know he had died until about four days ago.  

I feel like I am getting older by the minute and, come to think of it, I am.

The September 15 death of Tito Jackson, founding member of the Jackson 5 and sibling of Michael Jackson and Janet Jackson, added to today's blue mood.  At least I found out about his death right away.

We can wish we lived in happier times, but happier times tend to be an illusion. 

We are at war with each other, and I thought it was appropriate to post a 2021 song from Tito Jackson, called Love One Another.

If only we took his advice.

Enough with the sadness.  Now, I'll take my friend's advice and start the day.

Growing Older with Porchfest

Once again, on Sunday, Binghamton, New York its West Side became its Fest Side, with the ninth annual Porchfest. 

A porchfest is exactly what the name states - bands set up on porches in a city or town neighborhood and play music on a designated day. The original intention was to bring neighborhoods together, was run by volunteers, and took place in Ithaca, New York in 2007.  This movement has now spread to at least 224 cities and towns in the United States and Canada.

Our first Porchfest in Binghamton was in 2015, with 50 bands on 20 porches, and wasn't even officially sanctioned by the City of Binghamton.  Sunday, there were 140 bands on 64 porches, all between (officially) noon and 7pm. It's family friendly, alcohol free (although there are restaurants serving alcohol) and best of all, there's no admission charge. Contributions and purchase of T-Shirts and other merchandise is more than welcomed but each year there are more and more corporate sponsors, too. 

There is all kinds of music, from rock, to opera, to big band era skits, to classical.  You can even throw in a ukulele, although this young lady (a little more on her tomorrow) also played electric guitar and a keyboard.  A couple of her original songs, accompanied by ukulele,  were pretty good.

Here are some of my past Binghamton Porchfest posts:

Porchfest 2023

Porchfest Preview (2022)

Porchfest 2021 

Your Grandmother Would be Ashamed 

Won't you Be My Neighbor? (2019) 

Porchfest 2017  

What Makes a Community a Community (Our first Porchfest, 2015) 

and, finally, 2020, the year it was cancelled due to you-know-what, Musical August Memories

So, why is my post called Growing Old with Porchfest?

This year, the sun got to me early.  I only stayed about two and a half hours and I left one venue after 15 minutes because the music was just Too Loud. (Perhaps the huge speakers by the house should have given me a clue.)

In some previous years we did come early (parking is easier), left, and then came back later in the day.  But that didn't appeal this year.  

Time flies.  I can measure myself and my energy level against the memories of 2015 and come up a little short.  I know low energy and aging don't necessarily go together.  A 92 year old woman I've known for some 50 years has taught me that. But there are some adjustments I need to make for Porchfest 2025.

So, yes, I was tired.  But I recovered overnight.  Yesterday it was on the road to the New York State fair for a concert.  More on that another time.

As for Porchfest, there's always next year, with some better planning.

Announcing a Blogging Break

For some time, I have been thinking of taking a blogging break.  I've been blogging daily since the beginning of May, 2011, although one of my posts from 2014 was removed (long after the fact) by what I suspect was a glitch as "not meeting community standards".  It was a post about inventions that changed the 20th century.  I've never bothered trying to get it reinstated. 

But now, I feel I need a break.

I will most probably be off of social media, too, including reading other blogs.

My break will begin on Friday, July 19 and extend until around July 28.  

For this week, my normal Wordless Wednesday will post tomorrow.  My Skywatch Friday post this week will post on Thursday.  And then, that's it until the end of July.

And yes, I will enjoy every minute of this break.

After I return to blogging, I don't know for sure if I will resume daily blogging, but I do intend to continue posting at least four four times a week:  Mondays (Music Moves Me), Wednesdays (Wordless Wednesday), Fridays (SkywatchFriday), and Sundays (Shadowshot Sunday)  plus the 15th of the month (Garden Bloggers Bloom Day).  We'll see how I feel about it after the break.

At one time, the posting daily mattered to me.  It no longer does although I'll feel some sadness in having a blogging streak this long end.  My original reason for doing it daily disappeared several years ago and, in the last several months, it's lost much of its enjoyment.   I feel myself slowing down.

 I hope I return to blogging refreshed.

The Changing of the Roles

Sunday, in the United States, was Father's Day.  We invited our son to come over for lunch.

After lunch, dessert, and some watching of a baseball game on TV, my spouse said "Son, there is a favor you can do me.  I have to get bags of salt for our water softener.  I was going to do that tomorrow, but I'm thinking, could we do that together today?"

"Sure", son responded. Off they went to a local big box store that sold the brand he needed, with me tagging behind.

I had a feeling how much asking for that favor cost my spouse.  When he was in his 20's and 30's and even 40's and  50's, my spouse was strong (and his hair was brown).  He had physical jobs that required constant lifting.  He was proud of his strength.  Hefting eight bags, 40 pounds (18.1 kg) each, of water softener salt pellets from the display, pushing the cart,  loading the car with them and bringing them down to the basement would have been an easy job if we had had the water softener.

But that was then.

A fall from about five years ago and wear and tear from all those years of physical labor have worked their way with his shoulders.  He can lift, but it is an effort.  And it would have taken a while.  Even six bags (there is a price break at six so that's what he normally buys) are a chore.

My son helped us with a couple of other things like a watering hose repair that needed parts at the same store. Then we headed home with the salt. 

My son works a job that is physical at times. He's in his 30's.

After he and spouse unloaded the car, and son carried the salt downstairs, son looked at his father and offered to add salt to the softening device. He then asked,  "How often do you have to do that?  How long does one bag of salt last?"

"About 11 days", spouse responded to the last question.  I could see my son's mental wheels turning.

We are fortunate.  Our son lives in the same county as we do although we realize that may not always be the case. We try not to ask for his help too much.

But, I wonder, when he looks at us, what does he see?

Does he see what we saw with his parents when they were our age?  A split screen of then and now?

His grandfather, my father in law, died at just about the same age as my spouse is now.  His other grandfather, my father, died about four years before my son was born, at just about that same age.

And yes, I think about that. And the "W" word.   A lot.   I know a number of women, in real life and on Facebook, that are members of the W club. Some of them have been for years.  One of them joined that club, overnight, just a couple of months ago.

I think my son is peering into the future. He's seeing the beginning of the changing of the roles.  We took care of him through his first 18 years or so.  One day...well, we'll see, but we were also caregivers for his mother her last few years. 

My son is an only child and I know it must weigh on him sometimes, just as it weighed on me starting at a certain age.

No one knows what the future holds.  Perhaps it's just as well.

Bette Davis once said "Old age ain't no place for sissies."  I don't feel like I'm old but I think the calendar would disagree with that.

We'll just do the best we can, and hope for many more Father's Days (and Mother's Days) with him.

A Living Tribute

We were told on Tuesday, by a grandson of one of our former Presidents, that his grandfather (who has been in hospice care for around a year and a half) has only days or weeks left. We are getting other messages about his health, but it's good to pay tribute while a great man is still alive.

This is a post I wrote on President Jimmy Carter in 2010, when I visited his birthplace in Georgia.  Now, Mr. Carter is 99. He is our longest lived ex- President.  He was a good man.

Mr. Carter still lives outside Americus, Georgia in a modest house on a family compound. He has been in hospice care for the past 15 months. He taught Sunday school until 2020, when he had to stop during the pandemic.  He worked with Habitat for Humanity for years, having helped build thousands of houses.

He has beat the odds (so to speak), before. In 2015, President Carter was treated for melanoma that spread into his brain. His family also has an extensive history of pancreatic cancer, the cancer that Jeopardy host Alex Trebek bravely battled before his death in 2020.

Whether or not you supported Jimmy Carter when he was President, I think you would admit that he's had quite a life of accomplishment after leaving office in 1981.  Here are some fun facts about him.

Here's my 2010 post. I've reposted it a number of times and I would like to pay tribute to him one last time.

They called him....

The Peanut President

Jimmy Carter has always fascinated me.  He came seemingly out of nowhere, seemed to have what it took to be President, but once he got into office he never succeeded.  Yet, in private life, he has succeeded beyond what may have been his wildest dreams.

What in his upbringing, what in his childhood values, what in his education made this man?

And why has this area of Georgia grown organizations such as Habitat for Humanity and others?  What here was so special?

We are visiting the Americus/Plains area to find out. In this blog entry I am concentrating on Jimmy Carter the man.

This is the house that Jimmy Carter grew up in.

Jimmy Carter grew up outside of Plains, GA in a solidly middle class family.  The actual town, which no longer exists, was called Archery.  The realities of rural life in those days created a childhood of lots of hard physical labor.  His father, loving as he was, did not believe in keeping anything on the farm that did not "pay its own way".   And this was hard farming, although the Carters were rich enough to have tenant farmers.  Still, Jimmy worked side by side with area black farmers, performing distasteful chores such as "mopping cotton".

"Miss Lillian", Jimmy's mother, was a nurse who did not turn anyone away, black or white.

Jimmy's father encouraged Jimmy to work and play alongside of the local black farmers.

The Carters grew cotton, peanuts, and sugar cane.  Student farmers still raise these crops at the homestead today.  They kept goats for meat, and mules to plow the fields.

In this windmill, is the germ of using "alternate energy".  There is nothing new about windpower.

The Plains High School the Carters attended has been closed (as part of consolidating various school districts).  This is a classroom set up the way it would have looked for Jimmy Carter in the 7th grade. Like so many famous people, Jimmy Carter credits a high school teacher, Miss Julia Coleman, as another great influence on his life.  In 1940 Eleanor Roosevelt invited her to the White House to honor her. 

 This is the outside of the high school.

Plains was the "Big City" for Jimmy Carter.  This is what it looked like in 2010:

Jimmy Carter lives just outside of Plains today, and when he is in town, teaches Sunday School at his church.  This is Jimmy Carter's "Church Home".

When we had first planned our trip, Mr. Carter was not supposed to be in town but this has since changed. We weren't able to change our plans but it certainly would have been interesting.

END OF 2010 POST.     Back to the present.

We never did return to the Plains, Georgia area.

So, Mr. Carter - may you have a pain free transition into wherever we go at the end of our times on Earth, whether it is soon or still to come later.

Aging with Grace

Some blog posts I read this past week touched me.

Childhood memories of the kitchen  Kitchen memories - we all have them, blogs Elizabeth Havey.  If we are fortunate, we have those memories of the kitchen where we grew up, and the kitchens we spent our adult life in.

May you never give up on what you enjoy says an Australian blogger.  She quotes Abraham Lincoln's quote ""In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years". I can only hope I can do the things I enjoy for the rest of my life, be they spending time outside in a garden, taking pictures, or reading for pleasure.

"So many things are left to memory", says Carol Cassara in a blog post about how nothing in permanent. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust it's the way of all things.  All creatures.  And all people".

So why am I blogging about this today?

Perhaps because I am realizing so much of my life now exists only in memory.  I walk in our local mall in bad weather, and the spaces are full of the ghosts of retail past.  Montgomery Ward.  Bradlees.  Kinney Shoes, which was my favorite shoe store. Sears is gone (they are down to 12 stores in the mainland U.S).  

Everywhere I go, I see memories in my mind.  The empty lot that used to be a McDonalds.  The elementary school my son went to which is now a senior citizen apartment building.  The building where I used to work years ago which now houses a non profit agency that provides services to older citizens like me.

One day, I will only be a memory, too.  And, one day, even that will be gone.

But, until that day, I intend to have a good time.  I have sunsets to enjoy.  Flowers to document.  Trips to take. Chocolate to eat.  True, I feel myself slowing down.

But don't say I'm too old for anything.  Behind that grey hair and wrinkles is an active mind full of curiosity.  

As the saying goes, there may be snow on the roof but that doesn't mean there isn't a fire in the furnace.

I've also thought about cutting way down on blogging. Several bloggers I know have either quit in the last year, or cut way back.  I hope it is for good reasons.

Speaking of blogging:

 I've blogged daily since May of 2011.  In a way, my blog has become an online journal. It's a fragile journal, one that could go "poof" at any time if Google decides to discontinue the platform.  But, for now, daily blogging serves my purposes.  It's a journal I can look at any time I have an internet connection.

Aging with grace.  It's what we can all hope for.

Eulogy for a Polymath

I found out about his death nearly two weeks ago. A few times, I had started to blog about him and could not find the words to put down on the blank computer screen.  Finally, it's time.

I had read his blog for years.  I think I had been introduced to it, 10 or more years ago, through a blogging challenge.  We had also become Facebook friends.

He had gone into the hospital yet again and wrote about it on his blog.  He had been battling serious health issues for several years and blogged about them, one of many, many topics he blogged about.

His inventions and interests spanned (per his biography) the fields of kidney dialysis, colon electrolyte lavages, water reuse systems, and more.  He was an enrolled agent and blogged about tax matters, and also was a chemical engineer, among several career changes.  Self described as a polymath, I will call him one, too.

He blogged about civil rights 

He wrote about anti-Semitism.

He also loved music.  Here is one of his music posts.  I was honored to have him read, in turn, my Monday music posts.  

He loved wine.  He loved art, and collected art. 

He blogged about our duty to repair our world.  For him, it was a religious obligation.

He never hesitated to DM me on Facebook if I made a mistake in my blog.

Through his blog, I felt like I had come to know something about him.  I know few bloggers who shared as much about himself as he did.  Some of his blog posts, in all honesty (the scientific ones and the tax ones) were way above my head, but I looked at them, anyway.  He would have expected no less from me.  His was not a light and fluffy blog.  I learned from it.

Along all this, he loved his family and his children.  He was so proud of them.  One of the last interactions I had with Roy, in fact, was him sending me a copy of a book "One Bold Move a Day" written by one of his children.  I didn't ask for it.  He just did it.

Several days after he blogged about going into the hospital (for the last time, it turned out) I had a sinking feeling.  I've learned never to ignore that feeling.  I went online and, in mere seconds, found his obituary.  It wasn't hard.  Sadly, he had passed away a couple of days before I had that sinking feeling.

His earthly battles are over.

I miss his blog posts already.  

Roy A. Ackerman, Ph.D., E.A.  May your memory be for a blessing.

Sharing Obituaries and Walking a Tightrope

Last week, a parent of someone I have known for years passed away after a brief hospitalization.  The cause of death:  a fall. 

So many times, it is a fall.  Or dementia.  And, in fact, the parent of someone else I know also died the other day.  She had suffered from dementia, although I don't know the exact cause of death.

It's a sad thing when we reach the age when some of the interactions with friends happen when it is time to share news of a death, or when we find ourselves at a viewing or a funeral.  I know, intellectually, it will happen more and more as I age, but it can still be a hard adjustment.

For me, it's especially sad when death is due to a fall, because my late mother in law had suffered so many.  And my spouse's aunt, who lived to 107, lost much of her independence when she fell and broke her hip at age 101.  My sister in law's mother died in 2015, months after suffering a severe head injury from a bathtub fall.

We all face that risk, if we haven't fallen already.  If it isn't us, it is a loved one who has fallen.  A mother. A father. An aunt or uncle.

In 2015, I quoted from the Center for Disease Control (CDC) Website:

"What outcomes are linked to falls? (Citations for these statistics are available on the website)

• Twenty to thirty percent of people who fall suffer moderate to severe injuries such as lacerations, hip fractures, and head traumas. These injuries can make it hard to get around or live independently, and increase the risk of early death.
• Falls are the most common cause of traumatic brain injuries (TBI)
• About one-half of fatal falls among older adults are due to TBI.
• Most fractures among older adults are caused by falls....
• Many people who fall, even if they are not injured, develop a fear of falling. This fear may cause them to limit their activities, which leads to reduced mobility and loss of physical fitness, and in turn increases their actual risk of falling."

So, what is the number one thing we can do, even in midlife, to help prevent falls when we are older?

Exercise.  (There's more to it than that, but exercise is a great start.)

Which is why, nearly every day, I now walk a tightrope.

 

I also get up and down. 

Loss of balance sneaks up on you.  I know that too well because my spouse and I have both fallen.

In 2015, I took a series of anti-falling classes (which I blogged about back then). There is a wealth of information online, including information on the CDC website. 

The seniors in your life (or you, if you are a senior) hopefully have access to various programs in their community.  Here are some of ours.

I wish I didn't have to share these obituaries, especially for falling related deaths.

Our hope is that we can all age with grace.  I remember what that fall meant to my spouse's 101 year old aunt, and how it impacted her remaining years.

Is There a Fountain of Youth Out There?

(I apologize to my readers outside the United States - these people and shows may not be familiar to you but these individuals were all part of my childhood so I hope you will bear with me.)

There's a fundraising commercial for a famous children's hospital that was co-founded by actor Danny Thomas.  His daughter Marlo Thomas (who is married to Phil Donahue) acts as their National Outreach director, and appears in this particular commercial.

I remember Marlo Thomas in a series called That Girl.  She was 28 when she started that series in 1966.  I was a teenager at the time.  I still see her as 28.

A little quick math and Internet research indicates that Marlo Thomas is 86.

Her husband Phil Donahue, whose talk show I also remember, is 88.

Remember the TV show I Dream of Jeannie?  Barbara Eden is 92.  She was 31 when I Dream of Jeannie first aired in 1965.

Other actors of my youth:

Joyce Randolph (the Honeymooners) is 99. Dick Van Dyke turned 98 last month.   Julie Andrews of The Sound of Music Fame is 88.  June Lockhart (I absolutely loved Lassie) is 98.  And let's not remember William Shatner, who played Captain James T. Kirk on the original Star Trek - he will be turning 93 in March.  Not that he's slowed down any.  He even went into space (for real, not via Hollywood) when he was 90.

For my European readers, I must mention Branka Veselinović, who, sadly passed away last year at the age of 104.

I wonder why this longevity?  And apparently, I'm not the only person who has wondered.  I found this one study but there are others.

But maybe not necessarily?  Here's another look done by obituary site Legacy, although it studied statistics from the pandemic year of 2020.  They concluded that the best field to enter if you want to live to an advanced age is - politics.

Politics?  I am not even going to go there.  As for my occupation (not politics!), I wouldn't know if there is even a mortality study of it.

So, is there a fountain of youth out there?  We all want to age with grace.  But is it possible for many of us?  

I wish I could know what their secret is.

Ending 2023 With Gratitude

My mother in law left this Earthly life in November of 2018, and would have been celebrating her 96th birthday this year.  She taught me a lot about aging with grace.

Me? I know I complain too much.  Sometimes (well, more than sometimes) I even start my day with a complaint.  Today, I'm going to start it with a post of gratitude.

There is so much to be grateful for.  Here's a partial list.

I'm Grateful For

All those who work on my behalf - garbage pickup people, first responders, retail workers, and anyone I didn't mention.

Having family nearby.  My son lives about 20 minutes from me.  I have a couple of inlaws in the next county.

Good health.  Cross fingers that it continues. 

Oh Tannenbaum, Owego, New York

Holiday beauty.  Holiday songs.  I've always enjoyed Christmas carols and Christmas lights.

Music.  

Being able to see, hear, and taste.

The people who wished me a happy birthday on Facebook when I had a birthday earlier this year. Ditto for those who called and texted.

Social media.  Since I wrote my blog post December 5 about deciding to stay on Facebook after a couple of months of not being on there much, I found out a real life friend's brother died via Facebook.  I am grateful for social media, the good kind.

The Internet, when it works right.

A card I received from the person I once called my guest photographer, with such a beautiful message in it.

Cell phones with cameras.

Blogging and my fellow bloggers. 

Sunsets and sunrises.

Books.

Libraries.

My spouse of going on 50 years.

And you, my readers.  I am so happy you found your way to my blog.

What are you grateful for?

The Medicare Wellness Exam

I was working full time when I turned 65 and became eligible for Medicare (the American health system for seniors).  When I first enrolled in Medicare, I became eligible for an annual "wellness exam" fully paid for by Medicare  I got the first one, then skipped the next couple. 

This year, I decided to get it.

The good news is, I don't have dementia.

The nurse said I scored 100% overall.

But the questions...This was a trip down memory lane and a peak into my future.  And, perhaps, yours.

The reason for this exam is to have a personalized care plan based on your risk factors for various conditions.

The questions the nurse asked brought back the times I was a part time caregiver for my late mother in law.  I remember when they tested her for dementia and other conditions.  Some of the questions were too familiar.

When she had her tests, they asked her if she did her own cooking and housework.  She said "yes". But she could do neither.  She was speaking her truth, though. In the world of her mind she was still fully independent at a time where she needed home health care.

"Have you fallen in the past year?"  My mother in law fell....too many times.

Meanwhile, back in the present, the nurse read down the list of questions mandated by Medicare for this type exam.

"What day of the week is it?"  (I don't know why they ask this; every retired person I know has a problem with this.  As a part timer, I have to know when I report to work and when I don't, so I always know.)

"Do you need help eating, toileting, dressing, bathing?" (but if you do, I pondered later, what then?  Medicare doesn't pay for most home health care and getting the same is a nightmare for every caregiver I know.  And I do know a couple right now.)

"Do you have trouble managing your money or your medication?" Back came the memory of the day my mother in law denied she needed any of her many prescriptions, even when we showed her the bottles with her name on them.

"What year is it?" (My mother in law couldn't handle this one, nor did she know who the President was, given that she watched a news channel most of the day).

"What town are we in?"  With all the doctor visits I had this month I actually had to think about that for a minute.  They are all in different places.

"Write a sentence with a noun and a verb in it." (Don't they know I'm not the best with grammar?)

I passed the three word test, where the nurse tells you three words and you have to remember them a few minutes later.

Then came, for me, the stumper. The nurse said:  "You have a choice between spelling "world" backwards, or counting backwards from 100 by sevens."

"By sevens, is that what you want?", I said, disbelieving.  "Yes", she said.

I chose spelling a word  backwards.  I've always had trouble with spacial concepts and I'm surprised I could do it.  (Later, at home, my spouse, who loves numbers, did the "count backwards by sevens" without any hesitation.  Showoff.)  I did manage "world", to my surprise.

There were, though, the questions they don't ask during this exam.  The answers many in the United States would give are all too familiar.

"Can you afford your prescription medication?"

"If we order tests today, will you be able to afford them?"

"How hard is it for your caregivers to provide care for you, and how many times do people they hire to help out never show up, quit without warning or interview and then ghost your family?"

"Do the programs we are referring you to have a long wait list, not enough funding, or have an income maximum that is just low enough for everyone to be ineligible?"

I can't help thinking back to when I was a caregiver for my mother in law, and ahead to when I will need help, if I live long enough.

Our system is broken.  Ask the woman I know whose mother has dementia and other health issues and needs someone with her 24 hours a day.  Ask the woman trying to take care of her 100 year old father and help out her only sibling, who has a serious and possibly fatal illness?  I know both those people.

There are millions more.

It's nice to have a Medicare wellness exam, but our country must ask itself:  How much longer will we fail our most vulnerable?

How We Change Over the Years

My spouse and I have had a few discussions (well, more than a few) about how we have changed over the years.  I don't mean the "I have grey hair and wrinkles/bald spots" discussion.  I mean changed mentally.

It takes us longer in the morning to get started.  We have to use the restroom more often (and thinking of bathroom stops during travel has become more important.  We like to linger in stores - no more in and out shopping.  

At one time we scoffed at guided tours of houses or other historical places.  Now they appeal.

At one time we thought that camping in an RV was not a pure camping experience.  My bladder and back would now disagree, although we haven't tried RV camping yet.  My tent camping days are way over.

When I was younger, I didn't want to go back to places I had been to once.  There was a whole country out there to explore!  Now, sometimes, it seems like I am trying to put together a tour of places I haven't been to in the last 20 or even 30 years.  It really is fascinating to see how places have changed, and our planned travel is mostly of that kind.  For example, we haven't been to Iowa since 2003.  We haven't been to South Dakota since 2002.

But then, I think about how I probably (let's be realistic) won't be doing a "how has place X changed in the last 20 or 30 years" tour in another 20 or 30 years.  It's a little sad, but I try to be realistic.  My spouse and I are both in our early 70's.  Why not do it now while we still can?

The roll of toilet paper is approaching its end.

It's strange when you haven't seen people in several years, and then you see them.  You think of them "you've aged".  Of course you've aged, too.

Sometimes, though, it seems like time stood still.   At the beginning of June, spouse and I drove from our home in the Southern Tier of New York to attend a wedding in New York City.  I hadn't seen any of my family members since December of 2018 except for a handful of FaceTime calls.

I thought to myself, how have my family members changed?  How have I changed?  And how has New York City changed?

True, I only saw my family for a few hours.  We didn't take mass transit and weren't in New York City for long.

What did I find?

Well, there were all the electric signs on the highway telling us how many minutes to certain highways or interchanges.  Those were nice.  New to me...

There's the bridge between the Bronx and Queens (two NYC boroughs) that no longer has toll collectors.  You pay with an electronic pass called E-Z Pass or by mail.  In the old days, traffic sometimes backed up 15-20 minutes.  Now, we just sped on through.

Yes, this picture was taken in New York City

The traffic on the Long Island Expressway hasn't changed, though (I don't think).  Maybe people I know who live on Long Island would disagree and I bow to their observations.

My family?  It was like time stood still, except for the younger people who were teens last time.  Now they are grown up and working in the real world.

One thing I do know is that returning to the city of my childhood has reignited a wanting to explore new places.  I did, in February, visiting a city in South Carolina (Greenville) we had never been to.  But all the roads we traveled were ones we had traveled before.

Perhaps it's time to explore once again instead of sticking to the tried and true.

After all, when I think to myself, my inner voice is unchanged from my younger years.

How do you feel you've changed over the years?

Sad Thoughts and Irish Whiskey Salmon

Sad thoughts and Irish Whiskey Salmon.  What a combination.

I was getting ready to publish my Saturday post, which was going to discuss a wonderful recipe my spouse made for St. Patrick's Day dinner. (Long story, but the traditional corned beef, cabbage, Irish Soda Bread, and potatoes are waiting for tomorrow.)

Then I opened up Facebook and saw the news that someone I had known through the blogging world (and a Facebook friend) passed away after a short illness.

I didn't know her exact age but I suspect she was at least 15 years younger than I am.  Those are the kinds of deaths, especially when unexpected, that tend to stun me a lot more than some others. 

I didn't know her in the non-virtual world, but, reading her Facebook page and comments from family and friends (and remembering some of the posts in a blog she wrote about caregiving) I am sad that I didn't.

May she rest in peace and may family and friends receive comfort though the memories they have of her.

And now, the topic I was going to blog about today.  Looking for a simple Friday night recipe (for my spouse, not me!) I found this.   Here's salmon marinated in Irish whiskey, honey, cider vinegar, thyme and lemon zest, then baked.  The recipe is in the link.

Turns out this must be a popular dish - there were a number of these recipes online.

The result?

It was delicious.  The whiskey gave it an interesting flavor, one that I wouldn't have guessed.  For two people, we halved the recipe and only had to buy one miniature bottle of whiskey.  We had the other ingredients.

So, a strange combination, these two topics, but they are both part of life.

Remembering the Peanut President

I am writing this the evening of February 20, which, in the United States, was celebrated as one of the most confusing holidays in our calendar - a federal holiday which is not recognized everywhere in our country. 

What is not confusing is that our oldest living former President, James Earl Carter, is in hospice care as I blog this.  At the age of 98, he has survived health crisis after health crisis and a number of falls.

One can disagree about how effective a President he was, but his humanitarian nature was never in doubt.  He has done extensive work with Habitat for Humanity and has served our country in many other ways. 

Here are a couple of posts I've written about Jimmy Carter or Habitat for Humanity over the years.  In 2010 I had the pleasure of visiting Americus, Georgia, which is located near Plains, where Carter grew up.

The Peanut President

My visit to Habitat for Humanity 

The strange thing is that, over this winter, I had a strong urge to visit Americus once again.  The trip may, in fact have happened this week, but the trip didn't happen. 

I wish President Carter a peaceful transition to whatever happens when we pass on.

A Good Man A Good Woman

When did you get in the habit of reading obituaries?

For me, it's been a while, perhaps back when I was in my 40's.  It's always a sad occasion, too, when I see a familiar name in the obituaries.

Sunday was one of those times, with the obituary of Joseph Kovarik, Sr. 

Mr. Kovarik's family owns a hardware store in Binghamton, New York.   It's an old time kind of hardware store, where help is immediately available if you have a question.  It's good help, too, dispensed with the kind of customer service you wish was available elsewhere.

I would always see the same people in the store when we did go there - perhaps family, perhaps employees who stayed on for years.  That says a lot about an employer.

I don't think I ever met Joseph Kovarik, Sr. when I was in there, but let me tell you a couple of things about him.

He was a talented musician who served in World War II, and then joined his father's hardware business.  He worked there for 72 years - my entire life plus a couple of years for good measure.  His son Joseph Jr, who also worked in the hardware store, passed away in 2021from cancer at the age of 63.

Mr. Kovarik, Sr. retired when he was 96, only because of COVID and the danger of a man his age working retail.  When he passed away earlier this month, he was 99.

I can not imagine someone loving what he did for work so much that he worked at it for 72 years.

Which brings me to a Rochester, New York area woman by the name of Edith Lank, who passed away on New Year's Day at the age of 96.

For years, Ms. Lank had a real estate column in our Sunday paper.  No, let's not call it a real estate column - it was more real estate mixed with a little Dear Abby advice column.  I think the column was in our paper when I moved to this area in the mid 1980's.  It was still in the paper in the summer of 2019 when she wrote her last column.  Before then, I had discovered that Ms. Lank was in her 90's and marveled at her stamina.  Like Joseph Kovarik, Sr. she loved what she did.

She was a pioneer in so many ways, and an expert on Jane Austen.

I invite you to read her last column.

When she died, it made the front page of our paper.

This man and this woman will both will be missed.

Maureen McGovern Memory

I like reading People Magazine, which I get out from our local library from time.  In a recent issue there was an article about the singer Maureen McGovern, famed for her hit song "The Morning After" from the movie The Poseidon Adventure.  I have to admit that I was never a fan of the song (maybe one of the few who didn't like it) but I am a fan of Ms. McGovern and her voice.

In 2022, McGovern announced she was suffering from posterior cortical atrophy (PCA) and was showing symptoms of Alzheimer's (she first started showing these symptoms was in 2018, when she started to struggle with familiar song lyrics).   She has had to retire from live performing.

The recent article in People concentrated on how the 73 year old singer was coping.  It also discussed how McGovern would interact with communities where she was performing, visiting (with no publicity) hospitals, hospices, and prisons.

It brought back memories, and here is a blog post where I wrote about her in 2011, after floods devastated portion of the neighborhood I've lived in for years.  The newspaper article my original blog post linked to is gone but the memory remains.

I didn't get to meet her, but I wish her the best.

May the coming years be good to Maureen McGovern.

The Glamour of Ordinary (October 2011)

Just an ordinary act by a more than ordinary woman.

Last Saturday, singer Maureen McGovern (of "The Morning After" fame) visited my neighborhood.  She was in town to give a concert.  She was here because, after our floods in September, a fan contacted her and asked her to come.

What a class act.  She came because a fan asked her to come.  We needed her.

And not only that, but she toured the flood-affected neighborhoods. She just didn't breeze into town, perform, and leave.  She came, not looking like a glamour photo, but as herself.  Just like someone you might find at your water aerobics class, or at the grocery.  She spent time with someone whose life was turned totally upside down on September 8.

Look in a dictionary for the definition of glamour:   Maureen McGovern, you don't have to make yourself up.  You are special just the way you are.

Glamour (noun)

The attractive or exciting quality that makes certain people or things seem appealing or special:

We Could Have It All.

The Great Changes

Back in May of 2021, I blogged about my dentist of many years retiring.   

My dentist did retire at the end of summer 2021. I met my new dentist in early 2022, when he had to work on an old filling that needed to be worked on.

Life went on.

When my spouse had his doctors appointment in the fall of 2021, he found out his doctor (also of many years) was retiring at the end of the year.  The doctor was 70, and wanted to spend time with his family, especially his grandchildren. 

Then, not long after I got a letter from my gyn nurse practitioner.  The letter said she was retiring December 5, 2021.  I had my suspicions (my post link above also discussed her possible retirement) but thought I might get more notice.  Earlier this year, I met her replacement.

Of course, these professionals would have retired eventually, but maybe not when they did.  I will never know. 

The most recent retirement was earlier this month - our insurance agent of 36 years.  During that time, she raised a daughter, successfully underwent treatment for cancer, and took good care of us.  Now, her elderly mother has dementia, and she will become a full time caregiver.

We've all read about the "Great Resignation" but there is also the "Great Retirement". I technically wasn't part of the Great Retirement, because I gave my retirement notice before the pandemic arrived in my area, but I was fortunate enough to continue to work (part time) from home after I retired.  Many professionals don't have that luxury.

We are all getting older.  I just passed an age milestone myself.

Not all of us are so fortunate.

So, what next?

Life is all about change, after all.

Back in 2014, I wondered where I would be in 10 years.  How could I have imagined the world of 2022?

None of us could.  We are all making the best of a rapidly changing world.  Who would have thought of a war in Ukraine (and the hardships they face with winter taking hold)? Forces possibly driving our country towards a civil war?  A pandemic?  The illnesses striking us seemingly all at once?

Yet, life goes on.

All we can do is hope for the best, but also take actions we hope will benefit us, our families, and our societies.

And world peace, too.  Yes, that would be nice.

The Autumn of Things

The growing season is over.

Sage with a hint of light frost

Yesterday morning, the frost kissed my flower garden and our community garden.   For some plants, it was a deadly kiss.

It was just cold enough to end the lives of our most tender plants - our tomatoes, impatiens, zinnias, and what was left of our basil.  

Asters still standing after yesterday morning's frost

Other plants that are just a tiny bit less sensitive - peppers, pineapple sage (not what is pictured above), my domesticated asters - made it through, although some bear the scars of the light frost.

Our plants that will take some frost - Swiss chard, Asian greens, geraniums, pansies - stood tall and proud.  For now. In our climate, the weather gets too cold for any of these to survive the winter outdoors.

It's time to switch my attention to two things:  which container plants will I save and try to overwinter, and what will I do about houseplants.

To everything, there is a season, and we humans are no different.

In some way, we are different from our plants.  In some ways, we are the same.

We are born, grow, flower.  Call this the spring and summer of our lives.

Then comes the autumn of our lives, if we are fortunate enough to make it that far (not all my friends/family have, and, I'm willing to bet, not all of yours have, either.)  One day, the human equivalent of frost will come to each of us.  For most of us, we don't know when or where.  We can't look at a calendar and say, oh, we are coming up on the frost or freeze date.

We do the best we can with the time we have remaining.

We plant the garden of our lives.  We learn new things.  We read new books.  We try new activities. 

For me, it's houseplants and trying to overwinter outdoor plants.  Why not?  In a way, they have become my children.

In the last two months I have purchased several new houseplants:  two ferns (a bit out of my comfort zone), a hoya (out of my comfort zone), another snake plant (I have three types now) and another pothos, this time one with silver in the leaves. 

Crispy wave fern (from Trader Joe's) and hoya Australis "Lisa"

It makes me happy (except, of course, when I kill one of them).

My spouse has turned to birding.  Why not?  I can enjoy that with him, although I'm not into it as much as he is.

We try to age with grace.  I have examples in my life, people I know or knew, who showed me what aging can be like if we do it right.  

What do those people have in common?  Several things: a zest for learning.  A desire to stay active, not to sit in front of the television all day.  A willingness to try new things.  And, taking care of someone and something.

The graceful part is the hard part, though.  I catch myself complaining too much.  I don't practice gratitude enough.

I do have that zest for learning, though.  I want to keep my mind active, to appreciate sunsets, to see new things. 

I hope I can keep that up for my remaining years.

Facing the Future by Remembering The Past

A heads up: this post includes some discussion of a book that takes a deep dive into COVID's affect on those who experienced the pandemic, especially in the second part of the book.  It may hit too close to home for some.  The research this author did for this book, incidentally, is outstanding. So onward to my thoughts:

A few days ago, I finished reading a book by Jodi Picault called "Wish You Were Here". It's my first book by her, and if this is like her other works, it won't be my last. (I hope the next one doesn't disappoint - I've had that happen with prolific writers).  

In a nutshell (because if I revealed the plot, it would have to contain a major spoiler), two 30-somethings, Diana and Finn, have their entire lives planned.  They will marry, buy a house, get a particular breed of dog, have two children, and visit a list of places.  Diana is an associate art specialist at a major New York City auction house.  Finn is a surgical resident at a major Manhattan hospital. 

Their careers are both on track.

Diana and Finn have purchased tickets to visit the Galapagos Islands, where Diana suspects that Finn will propose to her. It's the trip of their lifetimes.  It took them four years to save up.  They are supposed to leave in mid-March, 2020.

And then....COVID.  Everything changes, and the book is an examination of life during the first months of the pandemic from several different angles.  The book, for me, was a wrenching, emotional experience.

I had forgotten so much about those months.  Perhaps we all have, in a kind of mutually agreed on amnesia.  We don't want to remember.  We think, perhaps, that forgetting will make it easier to move on.  Or maybe we still deny it never happened.  Denial can be a type of forgetting, too.

But we need to look inward and to document our experiences.  We should ask ourselves, in that review, if our actions are making the world, or at least our neighborhood, a better place.

Are we bringing happiness to others?  Do our words, our writing, our photography, our volunteer work, our paid work, bring meaning to us?  Joy, or another positive thing, perhaps, to others?

This book stayed with me after I turned the last page. I stayed in its world.  As harrowing as what was presented could be, I didn't want to let go.

Those books are the best kinds of books.

But other things happened while I was reading the book.

Hydrangeas, Ross Park, Binghamton, 8-20-22

While I was reading the book, I read a blog post by a fellow midlife (or later) blogger, Laura, who has written candidly on her blog about various challenges in her life.  She considers some of her health challenges a gift, teaching her to look at others with compassion.  One of her latest posts bluntly discusses "What It's Like to Age Faster than my Friends".

Here is the blog post, and I invite all my readers to read and ponder it.

It seems to me (and many other people I've read) that we in the United States have become more selfish.  Less caring of our neighbors and community.  Some have turned to social media with posts and thoughts that will terrify you.

Finally, a man I went to high school with, the life partner of a friend of many years, and a man who fought his years long battle with cancer with grace and courage, would have turned 69 on Sunday.  But he passed away recently, so, instead, his birthday was marked with remembering the good man he was.

We are all granted a number, the number of breaths we will take in our individual gardens of life.  Most of us don't know that number.  But some of us do. I have been blessed by a lifetime longer than that of many people on this Earth, including my mother, and several "in real life" friends who passed in their 50's and 60's.  In a couple of years, I will be as old as my father was.  

Both my parents passed suddenly.  Here one day and gone the next. Both had health challenges that impacted their life spans.

So what am I doing with the years and health I've been blessed with?  Have I tended my garden of life?  Or is it getting overgrown with weeds, drooping in a drought brought on by not enough of the rain called self love?

We live in perilous times.  Anxious times.  But that makes self care, and finding meaning, even more important.

It may be time to reexamine our lives once again, and remember what we've been through in the pandemic times.

If we forget the past, we won't have a roadmap to the future.  History teaches us that without a roadmap, things never end well.  

What road will we choose?