A Time to Celebrate by Dick Goldberg

I suggest another strategy. Let’s go on the offensive and celebrate being seniors and reclaim the word, not shun it—like gay people have done with the word “queer” and some Jews with the word “Hebe.” What’s a term for endearment in the Black community? The N word!

I think it’s time to open the window and say “I’m glad as hell I’m old and I’m going to celebrate it because old is good! And if you don’t like it, get out of the way!”

This is Not What I Wanted by Susan Meis

I hate being a caregiver. I have been one for five years. Life was not supposed to be like this. I awaken every morning with the same feeling in the pit of my stomach. Daily chores again! When do I get time off? He can do some things for himself but life has chained me to this man I married  65 years ago. His life is now what it is. He cannot hear so I am his ears. He cannot see so I am his eyes. I  am his constant companion. I do take off for a 45 minute walk every morning, and I do things without him for a few hours one day a week. But I hate being a caretaker. I want someone to care for me as I take care of him.

Independent Until the End by Sandra

It’s been almost 5 years now since my mother died. She was 89 and living independently up until a month before she died. I often resented going to see her but did especially once she no longer drove. I gladly went shopping for her, but taking her places was always difficult as she was a controlling type of person. Still, I respected her and admire her to this day for how she managed her life as she became more and more dependent on others. Eventually, I went to a caregivers support group. I hesitated because I knew I was not really a “caregiver” until I read the brochure. I saw that much of what I was doing for and with my mom was in fact caregiving and I deserved support as much as anyone. I’ve never regretted doing that support group and I think my relationship with my mom was improved as a result. I miss her still, of course, and as I begin my own aging I think of her decisions and will be using her as a model of workable indepedence in what ever form it takes. The last day before she died, she was still making her own decisions about hospice and other things, she insisted on drinking water by herself with no assistance. She liked doing things on her own and I believe I am very much like her.

Caring From a Distance by Marilyn Arnold

My biggest challenge is how do I care for my 85-year old mother and my 101 year old mother-in-law who are both 1200 miles away. The answer is very old fashioned – the telephone and the mail. My mother-in-law is very deaf; however, she can read without glasses and her long term memory is very good. I write to her every week letting her know how we are and reminding her of our next visit. When we are together, I communicate with her by writing on a pad of paper. She is very engaged and can answer my questions.

My mother is always so happy when I call her. She wants to know what I did that day,and I am always upbeat, also discussing memories of both her childhood and mine. We both look forward to the calls. She still does handwork and crochets beautiful pieces some of which I am using on my vintage pillows.

We are so blessed to still have these two wonderful ladies!!

Paying the Bill by Emma Lapsansky-Werner

In 1987, I gained a new partner–a man 22 years my senior. We “dated” (do people our age still “date”?) for almost ten years, then he moved in with me. Part of our pact with each other is that neither of us wanted to remarry. However, after seven years of living together, we realized that neither of us was going anywhere else, we instituted a clear-and-complex prenutial agreement, and then we married. There followed another five lovely years before his health began to take a precipitous decline. I became his driver, medicine-tracker, bather, planner, budget-manager, care-taker. When he asked me how I felt about this I replied “one doesn’t expect to have a wonderful meal and then leave the restaurant without paying the bill.” So began three years of not much sleep, a complicated balancing act of job and care-taking, and my friends worrying about MY health. My hubby is now in an assisted living facility, I am (guiltily) getting enough sleep, and beginning to regain the lost weight, too. I visit often, but it’s hard. I try to stay focused on the wonderful meal, not the bill-paying.

A New Community Taking Wing by Thelma Reese

Recently I had the good fortune to discover a wonderful program that started right here in my own back yard.  It’s called The Best Day of My Life (So Far), and was started by Benita Cooper, an architect, who was inspired by the stories her grandmother began to tell her in their weekly long-distance phone calls. Benita still spends an hour or so every week with the group she originally organized at a local senior center, but the program and the idea at its heart is growing and taking wing in many directions. The idea is that intergenerational communication, the power of personal stories, developing friendships, and the mutual understanding and inspiration that can grow from shared experiences all enrich our lives in powerful ways.

If you click on The Best Day of My Life (So Far) , you’ll find some wonderful stories, interesting people, and something that seems to be hitting a nerve among a widely diverse group of people around the world.

A Word for Nostalgia by Thelma Reese

I remember . . . .  . While we (many of us, that is) joke and complain about having to grope for names these days, our long-term memory seems to be intact.  Witness my recent response to hearing that next Monday is Presidents’ Day:

I remember when Abraham Lincoln and George Washington each had his own birthday celebrated – February 12^th and February 22^nd respectively.  I even remember the hard red candy cherries encased in cute cardboard hatchets we had on the 22^nd!  It’s kind of sad to me that they lost their individual birthday celebrations.

Do you remember something that brings a wistful smile or a happy memory?