We had plans to see the latest Shakespeare in the Ruins play Much Ado About Nothing on Saturday night with friends. After a lovely dinner at an Italian restaurant, we headed over to the Trappist Monastery in St. Norbert where the outdoor production of the play was being staged.
I had bought our four tickets online but the ticket seller couldn’t find my name on the audience list for some reason. It was then I discovered that by mistake I had purchased tickets for June 25th rather than June 18th. The seller was apologetic but since the play was sold out they couldn’t trade our tickets.
We had bandied both Saturdays about as possible dates for the evening with our friends but had definitely settled on the 18th. Why in the world had I purchased tickets for the 25th? I can’t tell you.
I apologised profusely to our friends. My husband reminded me that this wasn’t the first time I’d messed up in this way.
Did I remember the time I’d gone to catch a plane at the Hong Kong airport at 1 pm in the afternoon when I should have caught it at 1 am the previous morning?
Did I remember the time we were in Croatia and I’d booked a tour for one day but pencilled in the date on our travel itinerary for the following day so we showed up twenty-four hours late?
Did I remember the time in Portugal when I’d booked a tour for the wrong day too?
My husband Dave is usually the one to make our travel arrangements and social engagements but sometimes I do take a turn and have on more than one occasion really messed things up. It worries me.
Am I just getting old or am I too scatterbrained? It makes me wonder if there are other things I have missed or completely forgotten.
On Saturday of course our friends were polite and kind about my error. My friend even gave me a hug because she knew I was feeling so awful about the whole thing.
I am going to try to change our tickets for another night because now the 25th doesn’t suit our friends. So we may get a chance to see the play yet. But the fact is….. I messed up. I probably will again.
Would I consider MAID? It’s something I’ve thought about as I watch my elders reach their final life phase and realize that time is approaching for me.
Younger people seem startled by the suggestion I might consider medically assisted dying, but when discussing it with folks I know who are my age I find the majority would prefer to make their own decision about life’s end. They’ve witnessed a parent’s or grandparent’s challenging experience and have no desire for something similar.
My mother-in-law spent her last year dependent on caregivers for her most basic needs after a stroke. She told me it required more courage than any other life chapter. Knowing the challenges Mom had already faced in the past I was so sad for her. “Growing old is not for cowards,” she confided.
Several family members in their 90s are currently enduring debilitating health challenges. They are people of strong religious faith and have shared their bewilderment and even anger with God for not allowing them to die. Their peers are gone, and they are living in difficult circumstances, their ability to find joy and hope curtailed further by the pandemic. What possible purpose might God still have for them?
Recent medical advancements have made it possible to extend life to such a degree that current generations are perhaps the first to really have to consider just how long we want to take advantage of the health care system’s ability to keep us alive.
Experience is teaching me that caring for older family members is challenging. If at some point I am no longer independent I would grieve if my children were forced to make tough decisions about whether to steal important time away from relationships with partners, children, and grandchildren to tend to me.
Researching long term care for seniors in my family has opened my eyes to the state of the facilities where many people spend their last years. To be honest, it would be tough to be institutionalized in even the nicest ones, but some places I’ve visited are truly deplorable and we should be ashamed that in a wealthy country like ours this is the way we treat our elders.
Rather than spending time and energy trying to fight MAID legislation as some do, I’d suggest investing one’s resources in volunteering at a senior’s residence, advocating for pay and benefit advancements for nursing home workers who do one of society’s most challenging jobs and pressing politicians to increase funding for home care and other supports for the elderly.
I believe we should be able to make our own decisions about the end of life. I know people nearing their hundredth birthday who despite some physical and social challenges still enjoy each day and find meaning and purpose in their routines and relationships and their connection to the natural world.
My mother faced considerable health problems, but little pain, before she passed away. Even in her last days she connected meaningfully with loved ones and still appreciated music, flowers, and laughter. MAID would not have been a choice for her.
I don’t know what my end-of-life experience will be or whether I will decide that MAID is the best decision at some point, but I am glad I live in a country where I have that choice.
I know I blog a fair bit about the nearly addictive puzzling habit I’ve acquired since the start of the pandemic. I thought it might abate as the pandemic eased but it has not. And as I do one puzzle after another I am learning new things.
This latest puzzle was unique in that it was the first one I’ve done where each piece had an alphabet letter on the back of it. The puzzle had been divided into 9 sections and the pieces from that section all had the same letter on its back. I only noticed this after I’d completed the puzzle frame. When I divided the puzzle pieces by alphabet letter the puzzle became incredibly easy to complete. I did one section at a time.
And that’s how lots of things you take on as projects can be. You organize the things you need to complete into doable sections and then tackle them one by one.
I’ve gone back through my old puzzle blog posts and I’ve found lots of ways that puzzles have helped me learn about life.
Connecting the different sections of a puzzle takes hard work just like connecting diverse groups of people.
Sometimes it’s great to puzzle with others but other times it’s good to puzzle alone just like we all need alone time as well as social time.
It can take awhile to find a missing piece to a puzzle just like it can take awhile to figure out what’s missing in a relationship or in your life.
You often start with the frame when you do a puzzle. How you frame things is important. Experiences you have in life can be interpreted so differently depending on how you frame them.
You don’t have to finish the whole puzzle to feel satisfied. Every piece you put in gives you a small sense of accomplishment. The process of doing something can be just as rewarding as the final product.
Some puzzles are too hard and some are too easy. It takes awhile to find the ones that are just right for you. And it’s like that with determining the sweet spot between other extremes like whether you are too busy or not busy enough.We have to find what’s right for us.
I am sure I will learn more lessons as I keep indulging my puzzling habit. The next one is already purchased and ready to spread out on the dining room table.
I was giving a tour at the Winnipeg Art Gallery yesterday to a group of teenagers from a high school in the Interlake region of the province. I told them about a piece currently on display in the gallery that had been retired from public view since 1953. I told the students it was the year I had been born. One young man seemed genuinely surprised. “I thought you might be around 45.”
Since I have a son who is almost 45 the young man’s comment was obviously erroneous, misguided and far-fetched. Perhaps he didn’t notice all my wrinkles with my face under a mask. But………. I have to say that initially, I felt pretty good about his comment.
But later I started wondering why. Why is it a compliment to say someone looks young?
I certainly wouldn’t want to be younger than I am. I am enjoying this stage of life- where I get to be flexible about where and how much I work- where I get to experience the incomparable joy of being a grandparent- where I have had the freedom to travel and see the world – where I have time to explore new opportunitiesand develop new skills– and where I’ve been fortunate enough to feel pretty healthy.
Liketoo many of us, I have probably been brainwashed by our youth-obsessed culture and media and the industries that make massive amounts of money from people who are trying to look younger than they are.
I like my age and I shouldn’t need or want people to tell me I look younger than I really am.
On Sunday the Winnipeg Free Press carried a story about the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) Thrift Store on Selkirk Avenue where I am a regular volunteer. Profits from the store go to the Mennonite Central Committee an aid organization that has programs to help those in need in North America and around the world.
Volunteering at an MCC store is a family tradition. My mother Dorothy volunteered at the store in Steinbach Manitoba for many years and my mother-in-law Anne was a volunteer at the MCC store in Leamington, Ontario. After my parents moved to Winnipeg my Dad Paul volunteered at an MCC store in the city’s Kildonan area with friends from the seniors’ complex where he lived.
The Mennonite Central Committee Thrift Store movement which has spread across North America was co-founded fifty years ago by a group of friends from Altona. Selma Loewen (Auntie Selma to me) was part of this group. She was an honorary aunt of mine since she and her husband Bill were dear friends of my parents.
Clearly, in volunteering at the MCC Thrift Store I am carrying on a family tradition.
I began working at the Selkirk Store when I first retired from teaching and have filled many different roles there but for the last number of years have worked on the second floor of the building with a group of women from my church, sorting through boxes of donations and pricing items for the store shelves.
My friends and I visit and talk and share stories as we work and eat our lunches together. We tell each other about the good times as well as the challenges in our lives.
We are lucky to have Marge Sawatsky as our leader and organizer. Every week she sends out an e-mail to our group giving updates on our work at the store and the news we’ve shared about our lives. So even if we haven’t been able to make it to the shop that week we are kept informed. Marge’s messages help to create a wonderful sense of community that keeps us coming back to volunteer.
I hope I can continue my work at the Thrift Shop for many more years carrying on a family tradition with friends.
I think it’s glorious to be nervous. Being a little nervous means you care, and you’re alive, and you’re taking some kind of risk. Hooray for being nervous! – Amy Poehler
Yesterday I presented the first session in an online course I am teaching. I was much more nervous than I usually am before I give a talk or teach a class because the course was on Zoom and I didn’t know exactly how things would work out in that format since I’d never used it before for teaching.
In the morning when I told my husband, Dave, I was nervous about teaching my course he said, “Well why are you doing it then?”
I was a little surprised at his question but I told him the day I stopped doing things that made me nervous was the day I might just as well give up living.
Whenever we try something new some nerves are bound to accompany that venture. But when we stop trying new things…… we also stop learning and growing and then what meaning does life have for us?
I certainly won’t stop doing things because they make me nervous. It’s been my experience that a little nervousness is good for me and in almost every situation I am glad when I don’t give in to my apprehension and forge ahead instead.
Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person.
Those are the opening lines in one of my favourite novels, Anne Tyler’s Back When We Were Grownups.
Rebecca, the main character is a widow with four grown children who starts wondering if she is really happy. She begins to think about what her life would have been like if she had made other choices both professionally and personally. What is her purpose now?
Like Rebecca, as our life circumstances change, we often stop to reflect on what our new purpose might be or how the choices we made in life have impacted where we’ve arrived.
There are two key pieces of advice I always take away from Back When We Were Grownups when I reread it.
1. Don’t waste your time with regretsconstantly thinking about what might have been.
Rebecca puts it this way. “Your true life is the one you end up with, whatever it may be.”
2.Live as richly and as fully as you can in the here and now. Rebecca tells this story to make that point.
When I was eight my aunt gave me a beautiful tall white candle with white lace around it in a spiral. I thought it was so elegant I saved it in my drawer to use on some momentous occasion. One day four years later I came across it in my drawer and it was all yellow and warped and the lace had crumbled. I’d never seen it burning and now I never would. Since then I light my candles any chance I get. I light them by the dozens, all over, all year. Multitudes of candles!
This Christmas in particular, when we may be feeling regretful that we can’t celebrate the season in the way we’d hoped to, or with the people we’d hoped to, it might be good to remember Rebecca’s advice to light multitudes of candles while making the very best of what life has given us right now.
We began our second day here in beautiful Canmore with a long walk in the chilly morning air. When you are staying in a household with two dogs getting them outdoors for some exercise is the top priority. After breakfast, we hit the trails gorgeous with autumn colours to take Archer and Josie the two dogs that belong to our niece and her fiancé for a walk.
Dave decided to try his hand at walking the dogs, first with Archer the puppy and then with Josie the older dog as well.
The dogs really responded well to him and he managed to keep them on course even though both have a tendency to want to venture off the path to chase squirrels and rabbits and birds and could get a little excited when we met other dogs.
Even when we spotted a herd of elk on a neighbourhood soccer field Dave kept the dogs in hand.
Our niece told Dave dogwalkers typically make twenty dollars an hour. Since Dave lost his job as a driver for a car dealership during the pandemic, he has been thinking about trying a different sort of part-time employment. He may have found it.
I was having lunch with my friend Irene the other day and we were talking about how we are at the stage in life where we have ‘senior moments’ and forget to do things.
COVID hasn’t helped because we’ve had fewer items on our calendars for over a year, and now that our lives are getting back into a busier mode it seems to be even harder to remember things. We are out of practice.
Irene told me she and her husband have a little mantra “Do it or write it down.” When they think of something they need to do they either do it immediately or write it down so they will remember later that they need to do it.
I am getting ready for a trip and I started packing days ago. When I think of something I need to take along I either put it in my suitcase immediately or I write it down on a list.