That’s what it’s all about!

So often now, I find myself giving advice to many people. This worries me, as I never want to lead someone down the wrong path. We all live in glass houses, so I am careful with my advice or criticism. Generally, the type of advice I give involves thinking exercises — little drills to help lead the horse to the water that he (or she) has already been looking for in the dark and with blinders on. I just try to get the horse to take off the blinders and turn on the lights. Whether the horse drinks the water or not is another story. Sometimes I suggest the hat exercise from my article Hat trick anyone?, or I encourage friends to make their own top twenty list, as described in 'Til death do us part... . Mostly though, I encourage friends and loved ones to let go of the past, seize the moment, and embrace the future.

Recently, an older friend reached out and shared her frustration (or rather, misery) with the current state of her life...and her future, or lack thereof. She readily admitted that she has much to be grateful for and that she shouldn’t complain. It’s easy to agree with this last statement, as she is a young, healthy “senior citizen,” who will never have to worry about a roof over her head or a hot meal — or medical treatment if necessary. Nonetheless, she is miserable and depressed. The more she tries to embrace her good fortune and deny her frustrations, the more miserable she becomes.

Why is this woman, who has so few worries, miserable? Simple — she no longer knows who she is or where she belongs in society. Sure, she’s a mother and a grandmother, but she’s a mother and grandmother who’s recently been moved to a senior living community that houses many of our elderly (and infirm) citizens. This friend may be older, but she’s not that old — and she’s definitely not infirm. Are there other “young” and healthy seniors like her living in this community? If you listen to her, no way. If you take a more objective approach, yes there are others living in her hood that are younger and healthier, as she is. She lives in a wooded area and I think that the trees are obstructing her view. She can’t bring herself to look beyond some of the surface issues that remind her daily of her now “not-so-distant,” or appealing, future. The future she can’t embrace is her own mortality. The more she sees others starting to decline in health, the less she can envision a bright, fulfilling future for herself. She worries that when she can no longer wash the dishes and run the vacuum cleaner for her daughter that she won’t be invited over — even though her daughter doesn’t expect her do these chores. She worries about getting too old to baby-sit her grandchildren; she worries that one day she won’t be able to drive. She worries that she is no longer needed, no longer useful, and has been put out to pasture to...well, you get my point. She never worried about these issues until six months ago, which was when her daughter generously bought her a condo in this senior community.

Just writing this makes me uncomfortable. I feel as if I am somehow insulting (or making light) of people who are elderly, ill or handicapped. I am most definitely not, however I do understand this healthy 65-year-old woman’s dilemma. She is a single, widowed chica who thinks she’s been put out to pasture. Her daughter only wished to make her comfortable and provide her with a safe haven to live out her remaining years. Herein lies the problem. Until now, this friend never thought of her life, or her future, in terms of her remaining years. I believe the finite implication this term invokes has thrown her into an uncomfortable and dangerous holding pattern. She can’t let go of the past, nor can she enjoy the present or step toward her future without fear and trepidation.

Think about this…if we’re healthy, and briskly walk three miles every morning (like my friend), how comfortable is it to walk daily on the same path as people exercising with oxygen tanks, or being pushed in wheelchairs? If, like my friend, we don't need to, how would we feel about living in a home that has handicap-fitted toilets, special railings and bars...and ramps and lowered cabinets to accommodate wheelchairs? Sure, tomorrow may bring us a wheelchair — or some other medical condition — and tomorrow we will certainly be older than we were yesterday. So, is it better to be prepared (like the Boy Scouts) and live in a home that is a constant reminder of what we may have to look forward to in our remaining years? Hmmm? When it’s put that way, I have to say that I see this woman’s point, and I raise her a few. I also admit (and she knows that it's true) that my friend really hasn’t given her new (old) community a fair chance.

After this friend reluctantly shared her feelings about her current living situation, another friend (Su-Z-Q) and I sat her down and talked with her for over an hour. We tried to convince her that she was still young, still useful, and still needed. We also tried to convince her that she had a lot of living left to do — and that she could do her living anywhere, so long as she remembered who she was on the inside. Oh, we sounded so reasonable...so smart, so young and hopeful. I suggested she do the hat exercise, and then make her top twenty list. Sounded great...in theory. Problem was, no matter how they sounded to others, I felt my words rang false. I knew this woman would never be happy living where she was, until she needed to live where she was — and no one knows when that day will arrive. I also fear that living in this senior community, with her current mindset, might speed up the inevitable processing of her remaining years.

After our miserable-feeling friend left, Su-Z-Q said how wonderful my advice was, how I really made this friend think...and that perhaps she would now see her community in a new light. Alas, I did not agree.

As it was now after five o’clock (at least it was somewhere), Su-Z-Q refreshed our drinks and we moved on from our afternoon iced tea to something a bit stronger. It was after the first drink that I had an epiphany. If our older friend can’t see the young sucklings in her community for all the old trees in her woods, then we would take some very visible young sucklings to her doorstep. Us. We would have a party — we would play bingo, do the hokey-pokey, the limbo and pin the tail on the whatever. We would have party hats, loud music, cocktails and we would bring some life and laughter to this friend’s new (old) home. In honor of this idea, my friend and I got up and started doing the hokey-pokey (blame the cocktails). It was then that our husbands walked in from playing golf. Su-Z-Q and I didn’t miss a beat...we moved on from the hokey pokey, to the limbo, to singing “This old man... .” We sang and danced to every youthful game or song we could remember. Sure, I realize now that this was a defense mechanism. Our older friend’s plight got under our skin. We were trying to exfoliate ourselves before we thought too much about our own remaining years. As our guys stood back grinning (and shaking their heads), Su-Z-Q and I put our right feet in and our right feet out, we did the hokey pokey and we turned ourselves around. No doubt, our husbands thought we were the ones ready for a home.

Planning for this party is in full swing. Our friend is excited. We’re going to hire a DJ and rock the night away. We’ll have our cake and eat it too. If the party gets too big and too noisy, someone might complain. They might even call the police. Our friend might even get a warning notice put in her file by management. If so, maybe we’ll have another party; it’s three strikes and your out, according to her CC&Rs. Yes, we’ll have a ball...but the three strikes is tempting. We could “throw the game.” Wow. Then my friend’s daughter might have to sell the condo (at a nice profit) and help her mom move somewhere else with a better, more youthful, view of the woods. That would be terrible...wouldn’t it?

Yes, of course I exaggerate to make my point. Our true goal is to lure some of the younger hip seniors (hiding out in the dense woods of this community) into joining our party. If they see how much fun we're having, they may join us. You never know, they may put their right feet in and their right feet out...and our friend will meet some new (old) friends that still enjoy the hokey pokey and want to turn themselves around. That’s what it’s all about!

“And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” — Abraham Lincoln

Dedicated to Babs...give it another chance chica. Let’s have a ball and take it from there. If not...then it’s one...two...three strikes you’re out at the (not so) old ball game!

© 2006 Teresa G. Franta