Most of us view ourselves as younger than we are. Just a trick of psychology. I can see, then, how disturbing using a cane or walker because you’re now elderly and need it can severely disrupt your self-image.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
Monday found me helping my wife deliver food to elderly, incapacitated, and disabled people, part of a community effort. Someone does it everyday Monday through Friday. Meals are provided for weekends and holidays on request as part of the system.
We were delivering six frozen meals to a new person on the route. We were instructed to call him first, to let him know we were on the way. He came out of his house as we pulled into his driveway. Obese, on oxygen, in a wheelchair, he looked about fifty years old, at least ten years younger than me.
Sad and shocked, I wondered about the circumstances of luck, genetics, work, and habits that brought the guy to that point. Most of life seems like a lottery, and the health lottery seems like the cruelest and most random of all.
Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts
It’s amazing. When he was a kid, he usually had two pairs of shoes, known as his ‘good’ shoes and his play shoes. Good shoes were also known as ‘dress-up’ shoes and ‘nice’ shoes. Play shoes became gym shoes and good shoes became school shoes. Dress shoes were added into the mix.
This trio — gym, or ‘tennis’ shoes, as they grew to be called — school shoes, dress shoes — were the status quo for years. A second pair of school shoes was added, along with cleated shoes for sports.
During his military years, he stayed with the triumvirate of shoes for his personal life. Gym shoes were still tennis shoes (though he didn’t play tennis), along with dress shoes and ‘jeans’ shoes. He began playing racquetball, so racquetball shoes were added to the mix. So were sandals. Then running shoes joined the shoe group. Military requirements dictated three more pairs of shoes: low-quarters (which were a super-shiny version of dress shoes), chukka boots, and combat (or paratrooper) boots. So it mostly stayed for his military career, except slippers were added through Christmas presents, and jungle boots and desert boots were added to fit his mission needs. The three pairs of military footwear were now five, because they’d done away with the chukkas.
Civilian life post military retirement brought on more shoe requirements. Aging helped. And shoe marketing. Now he added beach shoes, boating shoes, hiking shoes, walking shoes, and several pairs of ‘jeans’ shoes, also now called ‘casual’ shoes. There were work shoes, so he looked the role in the ‘business casual’ environment, but the military shoes were gone.
Going into marketing added more shoes to go with suits. Brown, gray, and black shoes were needed. He still had running and hiking shoes, along with walking shoes, jeans shoes, and casual work shoes. He was wearing cargo shorts frequently, and needed shoes to go with those. Moving from a pleasant year round clime to a snowy and wet environment brought up needs for wet weather and cold weather shoes.
Now he’s come to retirement. The suit shoes sit in boxes on shelves, but the rest have become so complex and numerous. He purged his shoes regularly, giving them away. His feet had widened and his feet’s needs had changed through the years, and that dictated changes as well.
Like so many other things, it’d become so very, very complicated. He wished for the days again when he had just two pairs of shoes. Given how life goes, he figured that circle would complete itself when he grew older.
Next: socks.
Saturday’s Wandering Thought
We were talking about classes we wished we’d had when we were young. Like, explanations about how much your body might change as you age. We knew that would happen, of course. Saw it in mother and father, aunts and uncles, etc. But how do you impress how much of it’s within and outside of your control, and how there is an accumulative impact? Despite exercise and health, some of these things take you by surprise and take you down, mentally, physically, emotionally.
Maybe such information is now being taught. Of course, with the net and technology, more of it is available.
Monday’s Wandering Thoughts
Just finished with our monthly food and friends deliveries. Run by the county, it’s a thing where hot meals with milk and dessert is delivered free for people’s lunch. They don’t need to be sick nor elderly; they just need to have a home, even if it’s temporary. Clients can chose to pay, if they’re able. Monday-Friday are the delivery days. Clients can decide which days they want it. Frozen meals can be added to cover holidays and weekends. My wife and I do one route, but it’s one of many routes, and two of many volunteers. One friend does it twice a week, every week. Respect.
I always end up wondering how people reached this point in their lives and what were they like before. I wonder about their relationships, marriages and divorces, careers and schooling, where they were born, how they came to be here in Ashlandia, and if they have family. Ours is a small route, normally nine to fourteen people. Some are temps but others have received food assistance for years. When their name is dropped from the ranks, we wonder what happened to them. Sometimes we learn, and it’s what’s expected, they passed away. Other times, they’ve gone into assisted living somewhere, hospice, or moved in with family.
I’ve seen others can do this path. Most of us in the US are on it. My mother-in-law’s route was through Parkinson’s Disease. Then a fall really undermined all aspects of her coping mechanisms, leading to a long demise. While Mom and her BF don’t have meals deliver, visualizing a day when that happens is easy. He’s in his nineties, she’s in her eighties. Both have health issues but cope. Still, they’re declining.
I even see myself on that road. I’ve suddenly gained weight. Energy level has dropped. Lethargy has risen. I see a practitioner, and they sympathize but empathize, I’m in good health. Hypertension and enlarged prostate is all that afflicts me. What I’m feeling is just the general demise of aging. It surprises me because that’s not what I’m used to being like. I have a hard time accepting it.
I imagine all the rest are the same, wondering, what in the hell happened to me?
Saturday’s Theme Music
Saturday’s broken, like the first mornin’. We’re up to Feb. 11, 2023. Plenty of time for this year yet.
Sunshine cracked the day at 7:13 AM, fulfilling dawn’s potential in big way. Blue sky with striations of clouds like towels waiting for the laundry hover around Ashlandia. Sitting at 42 F., the cats are pleased with the sunshine, dry conditions, and temperatures. My spies tell me the weather prophets think we’ll see 52 F before sunshine is put behind Ashlandia’s horizon at 5:38 PM. Tomorrow, the spies whisper, it’ll be in the sixties before another front rolls in and drops us back into the land of rain and snow.
My wife continues her diet. She’s at 21 days and is enjoying its effects. Her RA pain and flares have subsided. Worst part is low energy in her opinion. I note that she’s not as mentally sharp. It’s not mentioned to her because it would depress her. She’s on a huge reading streak, going through two to four books a week, all fiction. She read Four Treasures of the Sky for her book club this week, along with Blake Crouch’s Dark Matter and Becky Chambers’s A Psalm for the Wild-built. She passed the last two on to me, recommending I read them. Dark Matter is on the pile behind Ancillary Sword. A Psalm was read and enjoyed. Fascinating and different concept and interesting story-telling style.
The Neurons have Three Dog Night singing “One” from 1969. I enjoy its drive and harmony. Harry Nilsson’s original version, meanwhile, is harmonically interesting, with a slower tempo, a more thoughtful but sadder experience. The Neurons went with the Dog but I included Nilsson’s version for comparison.
Coffee’s been drunk, breakfast consumed. Time to go write and roll. Stay pos. and have a solid Saturday.
Moonday’s Theme Music
I was out walking yesterday afternoon, slow-baking in the sun. My informants told me that the temperature was 51 F. Telling self, “This is nice,” I thought I’d extend the wall. With a magician’s swiftness, clouds blocked the sun. “Damn, it’s cold,” self said. A icy wind knifed through me. Drizzle followed. Three minutes after enjoying a fine, sunny walk, I was heading home out of the drizzle.
This is Monday, Feb. 6 of 2023. It’s a boom sort of day. Initiated early dark hours after rain began shortly after the witching hour, curtailing an hour later. Then – boom – clouds split, and here comes the moon, reflecting powerful white light from the sun. Sweet. Following up at this AM, 7:19, boom, sun kicked shine over the horizons into Ashlandia. While it’s sunny now, 37 F, weather spies tell me it’ll rain later, with a high of 56 F before the Earth turn takes Ashlandia’s sun away.
Yesterday was a good day for moi on many fronts. Wordle in two. As Wordlebot said, that was really lucky. Excellent writing and editing time, knock on wood, an enjoyable walk, followed by a pleasant dinner of fish with roasted red potatoes and broccoli. Dessert was flax chocolate cookies while we watched episode of The Last of Us.
My wife had none of that dinner or dessert. She continues her anti-chronic pain diet. No sugar, no salt, no processed foods. She’s on the section where in addition to certain raw veggies, quinoa, and sweet potatoes, she’s allowed kale, coconut water, buckwheat, and green smoothies. How much longer she’ll continue this is unknown, but she likes how of her RA pains and flares have gone into remission. I make my own meals while she makes her, and I’m careful not to bring in anything that might tempt her. She has strong willpower and discipline. It’s been over a month and she doesn’t show signs of flagging.
The Neurons are singing a song featured as my theme music before, “Cheap Sunglasses” by ZZ Top from 1979. Not sure what enticed The Neurons to begin playing it, but I always enjoy it. Love how the vocalist, Billy Gibbons, enumerates this woman’s features, concluding, “What really knocked me out were her cheap sunglasses.” Oh, yeah.
Stay pos and enjoy the moonday. I’ve had some coffee but I’m up for more. Here’s the music. ZZ Top was always a fun concert. Cheers
Saturday’s Wandering Thought
Emails pack his inbox. He subscribes to emails driven by his interests. But many that he subscribes to make him pay for it by sending him three to six emails per day beyond his basic requests. This season is particularly miserable, a terrible trifecta of politics, holiday sales, and dire health warnings. It drives him one more time to sigh, close his email, and think about giving that thing up.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thought
He and his friend exchanged hellos. The follow up to his friend, “How you doing today?”
The other boomed a laugh. “Great. I can walk today.”
As both laughed, he said to his friend, “It’s interesting how your standards and goals change as you age, isn’t it?”
Michael Seidel, writer 