“On Christmas Eve we always . . .”
Think about all of the ways you might have finished that sentence at various stages in your life.
Although I have always cherished traditions, I couldn’t help thinking recently about how many times I have had to “break with tradition” in every stage of my life.
It’s a privilege to get old; not everyone has the chance to experience life in their 80s. It’s a time when we can no longer hide our age with cosmetics and high style when there are other obvious signs of deterioration.
Whereas we once walked tall, carrying ourselves with grace, we are now shrunken and our backs are bent. The sure-footed stride has evolved into cautious baby steps. And the head held high now is bent to watch for possible ice or bumps on our path.
Why do I feel like dancing? Could it be that I have shed 30 pounds?
Oh, I haven’t found a diet that works that well. Instead, I have an Angel that swooped down and helped me clean out my bedroom closet. Ten pounds went to the cleaners and 20 to St. Vinnie’s. And that makes me feel light enough to dance.
I was visiting the other day in the world’s most popular senior club, the doctor’s office, watching as she consulted her computer to check my X-rays from the week before.
I was just relishing the wonders of this technology that allows doctors to view any kind of health record or test results by a click of the mouse. Then I noticed her drumming her fingers in annoyance that she had to wait nearly a minute to get my record on the screen. I laughed.
In my 81 years as a Catholic, I have been warned to “Pray for a Happy Death.” Suddenly I seem to be in charge of one and I don’t even know what it means. What is a “Happy Death”?
It is said that St. Joseph had one because he died in the arms of Jesus and Mary. I think that would be a hard one to pull off for the head of our family. We’d need a lot of space for me with our 10 kids: Rob, Tom, Tim, Elizabeth, Kathi, Kris, Gretchen, Patty, John, Mark, and their spouses. And the 18 grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren. That’s a lot of arms!
I was never a Michael Jackson fan. I think my generation caught glimpses of him here and there when our kids watched him on TV. After we marveled at the Jackson Five with this adorable little boy with the big voice, we gradually lost interest in his “Modern Pop” music.
Then his constantly evolving face and color left us shaking our heads. When he built his Neverland, it made us wonder if he was trying to find the childhood he had been deprived of in this fantasy setting.
I am losing my husband of 62 years. But I think that I am one of the lucky ones. Little by little he is slipping away into a dark place in his mind to what I hope will be a place of peace and light. I feel blessed to have that “Long Goodbye” that the Alzheimer studies talk about and the opportunity to learn to live alone.
There is so much irony in all of this. The man who made his living as a speaker and teacher, a national consultant to a textbook publisher, can now barely finish a sentence.
And I, who griped all those years that with 10 kids at home I could barely finish a thought, now have hours on end of time to think . . . and remember wistfully those glorious days of noise and confusion.
Haven’t you always wanted to visit the Holy Land? To see for yourself where Jesus was born and died? And Cana where he turned water into wine? And the upper room where the apostles received the Holy Spirit in fiery tongues? And the Jordan where Jesus was baptized? And all of those places from Scripture?
Well, yes, you say, BUT: I am not wealthy enough to afford a trip like that, and, besides, I am too old and crippled up now to do all that walking.
Well, guess what! I am doing it now . . . every day!
I awoke at […]
Recently, a young man on American Idol sang a “modern” song, one of those all-beat-and-no-sense. I used to complain that I couldn’t understand the words, but now that my TV has the words printed on the bottom of the screen and I can actually understand them, I know I wasn’t missing much. And nothing rhymes. How can they memorize them? Oh, yes, they just repeat one phrase a hundred times.
In a recent interview, one of these guys whose voice seemed spectacular despite the song said that his vocal music training had come primarily from church choirs. Two thoughts came to my mind: He should have stuck with the church music and where have I heard that before?
