Useless

“I feel so useless.”

She didn’t say it looking for attention or for pity. She didn’t say it as a statement for dramatic effect. She said it almost in passing.

She is an almost 96-year old lady I met yesterday. I had stopped by her home at the retirement community to bring her Communion because her ride to Mass had fallen through. It was the first time she’d missed Mass in almost 60 years, she said. She doesn’t have a car – although she said that she could still drive if she’d had it. But when she moved to the retirement center a few years ago, there was a shuttle bus that she could ride to church. So she sold her car.

Selling that car was one of her big mistakes, she said. That, and selling her house on 10 acres and moving away from the community where she’d lived for her entire adult life, where all of her friends are.

She used to volunteer at the hospital and at the retirement center, but health concerns have taken her out of that.

If it wasn’t so far to church – at least 3-4 miles – she said she would walk. She always thought she would like to live next to the church so she wouldn’t have trouble getting to Mass. I suggested she call our priest and ask about moving into the spare bedroom in the rectory. We both laughed, even though the eternal optimist in me was 1/16^th serious.

“I feel so useless.”

It was my turn to feel useless. I wanted to fix the situation for this sweet woman. I suggested maybe she could write letters and cards to soldiers. There is a need for that. She nodded and then held up her tremoring hands, saying that writing is more and more difficult these days.

I told her that I would be happy to give her a ride to Mass when she needed one. I wrote down my phone number even though she said she wouldn’t call me because she was sure my life was so busy. I promised that I would tell her “no” if I couldn’t help, but I’d be happy to drive her if it worked out.

We shared the Eucharist, said a few prayers, and visited for a few more minutes. Then I left to get back to my busy life. But I’m still thinking about her and wondering how many thousands of older people feel useless and what I, what we can each do, to embrace them, letting them know how needed they are in our world. 

Walk this way...

Let your fingers walk this way to a couple of posts I have at other places:

Acting Balanced: This one is most out of my comfort zone. Heather was using her blog to promote Autism Awareness Month for April and I offered to guest post about our experience with Robbie being "on the spectrum." It's the first time I think I've really connected his name with the "a" word. 


Fit City Moms Blog: This is my usual monthly post for Fit City. This month, I was inspired by a Rite Aid commercial about 15 minutes and wrote about 15 minute starts to better health and fitness. I'd love it if you would come over and share your thoughts too.

All Things Aging: You've been there. You end up in the grocery store line that seems to move the slowest. What if the cashier is an older person? How would you respond? Visit the post and tell us WWYD?

Finally -- and I didn't write this one -- check out a special report on the Royal Wedding by my friend Sarah's 3-year-old son. Love this!

Fringe benefit

One of the fringe benefits of being married to Mike is knowing his grandmother. Mike and his brother and cousins have called her "Buck" for I don't know how long and it seems to suit her. Growing up, Mike lived just three houses away from Buck and her husband, "Baa Baa (who passed away in 2000)."

Stories abound about Buck, making it quite clear that she has always been a strong, determined woman and a force to be reckoned with. Like the time that she almost thrashed Baa Baa with a hot fireplace poker for being a poor sport on a family Christmastime trip to Williamsburg.

For New Year's Eve 1999, she went on an African safari and ended up in the hospital with some weird illness, but says that it was the best New Year's she's ever had. She struck up a conversation with one of the Beastie Boys in Chicago, without even knowing who he was, and has a list of gentlemen callers who escort her to events on her very busy social schedule. 

A few years ago, when the Old Navy commercials featuring Carrie Donovan came out, I said "Mike, your grandmother is on TV." The resemblance is funny, aided mostly by the big black glasses. Buck's hair is swept up on top of her head, while Carrie Donovan's falls toward her shoulders. Mike used to tease that Buck kept chopsticks, spare keys, scissors and who knows what else tucked in her hair.

 

When I was co-chair of the solicitation committee of the school auction, Buck easily provided a quarter of the donations -- everything from quirky wine bottle openers (though she's a teetotaler herself) to jewelry to art. She loves having the kids over to play and gets a kick out of the 30+ year old Fisher Price Sesame Street playset being the best loved of all the toys, even now. And she kept six card tables of Mike's Legos set up in her basement until after Annie was born.

She sends me the samples and free gifts from her purchases at the Clinique makeup counter. (Unlike me, Buck is never seen in public without makeup.) And she could give Barbara Bush a run for her money in the pearls department.

I had the good fortune to go to Chicago for four days with Buck a few years ago. We shopped, went to see Wicked, got in-room massages. It was divine. 

I love my own grandmothers -- NaNa, who passed away three years ago (how could that much time have passed already), and Grandma. But I think because Mike's family is so small and because he is so close to his grandmother, I'm close to her, too. We talk probably once a week.

Buck turned 91 years old last May. And let me say, I hope to be in such good shape at that age. (Heck, I'd be lucky to reach that age!) I guess when you're 91 you have earned the right to say pretty much whatever you want to say. These were a couple of the things she came up with this weekend while we were there to visit:


To Mike's mom: "Did you know that Amy is a modern woman? Yes. That's why she's showing her boobs." I promptly pulled my shirt higher up toward my neck.


To Annie during dinner: "Do you know what a lesbian is?" Before Annie could answer, I think I choked on my mashed potatoes.

Buck has sometimes wondered out loud why she is still around. And I like to think, in some small way, she's still here for me.

Crossing the color line

When I was in my 20's, I had ideas for how my life was going to work and generally didn't have any trouble sharing my life's expectations with family, friends and co-workers. One of the things I was adamant about was that, when the time came, I would gray gracefully. I would not fall into the vanity of coloring my hair.

That coming from a 20-something is like a single woman declaring "When I have children, they will not run around the grocery store like heathens, they will be perfectly behaved in restaurants, and they will never talk back to me." Lofty goals, unlikely reality.

Sometime in my early 30s, I started coloring a bit just for the fun of going auburn or experimenting with blondish highlights. It really wasn't about hiding anything.

Now 18 years and 3 children after my bold declaration about graying, the hormones, the years, and the stress from both of those things have done a number on my hair. On the top, the strands of gray are becoming more prevalent. Why is that the gray hairs are the crazy-whack-funky ones that stand straight up or kink in four different directions?

I'll admit to having colored my hair on several occasions for the purpose of preserving my youth. Usually the color came from a box. Sometimes from a salon. But for the past four or five months, I've been going back to that "gray gracefully" theory. I work in a place that's all about positive aging, for crying out loud. So shouldn't I embrace my age instead of try to cover it up?

Well...that sounds good. However, the fact of the matter is that we're not talking about a few straggly grays in the crown of my head. Nope. The sides of my head are almost completely white. It's most noticeable when I wear my sunglasses like a headband (frequently) or when I tuck my hair behind my ears (almost always). Mike said I look like Paulie Walnuts from the Sopranos:

We talk a lot at work about successful aging. And I think that perhaps that means growing old on your own terms, aging in a way that you are comfortable with.

If that's an accurate definition, then I plan to be incredibly successful tomorrow with a box of Clairol Natural Instincts #20 Hazelnut.

Look Ma, three blogs!

I've been at this blogging thing for about eight months and I really enjoy it. Blogging gives me a chance to write in a different way than I spend my days at work writing. Even in my "darker" posts -- and I know there have been several of them lately -- I try to infuse a little humor.

One unexpected benefit of joining the blogosphere is that I have gotten to know a handful of people I probably never would have encountered in real life. Liz, Shannon, Momza and Joanie come immediately to mind.

I also never expected that blogging would net me so much free stuff. Since July, I have been given or won:

• Tickets to 2 (soon to be 3) plays at the Indiana Repertory Theater
• 7 packs of Peeps + 1 plush Peep (thanks Joanie!)
• 5 Ridemakerz cars (total value $450)
• 2 sets of magnets, six in each set (won in a blog giveaway from at Junior Mints & Reese's, which sadly, is no more)
• 6 packs of Energizer lithium batteries
• 1 book by Bob Harper of the Biggest Loser (won in a blog giveaway at Shrinking Sisters)

Soon after I started blogging here at the 4th Frog, I began to feel it wasn't enough. So I started a blog at work last November. I haven't mentioned it here before, but thought I would now.

All Things Aging is about, well, duh, aging. My role is to edit and publish the blog. Entries are written by various members of the faculty and staff at the University of Indianapolis Center for Aging & Community. Because several of them are a academic types I had to implement rules like "no footnotes in the blog." I think we offer a nice mix of aging in the news, promotion of our online graduate programs and personal experience stories. Do me a favor and check it out!

Next week, I'll be adding a third blog to my repertoire as a regular contributor to the Visit Indiana blog. I'm excited about this opportunity because I'm getting paid to do it and because I love Indiana. Sure, we don't have much in the way of beaches (though we have a few -- none connected with an ocean). But we do have plenty of affordable family fun and Hoosier hospitality to go around. I have some ideas of what I plan to cover in my Visit Indiana entries, but if you know of something terrific to do in Indiana, I'm all ears.

If (when!) you wander over to one of my other blogs, be sure to leave me a note and say hi!