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    Archive for the ‘Other Voices’ Category


    Oops50: Farmer Nancy Shares a Pet Peeve

    Wednesday, February 1st, 2012

    NANCY

    I miss Andy Rooney, and, in tribute to him, I am going to air one of my pet peeves.  I’ve gotten so I read through the obituaries, partly for that feeling of having won a little lottery when I don’t see anyone’s name I know (so at this point, I still win a lot) and partly to read about strangers’ lives and marvel at the detail in some of them.  I have to admit that I also look to see mentions of a beloved pet left behind.  I do that with wedding announcements, too, and feel instantly connected when I see a pet in the picture with the happy couple.  I guess I should disclose that my dog “Pasha Bird” shared space with me in my college yearbook.

    But, back to obituaries!  Often I see a picture of a young person staring out at me, and I gasp to myself, thinking, “how sad,” but then, when reading on, I discover the person is actually way past 60.  It happened just today in the Chapel Hill News.

    Are we trying to say we are now forever young?  I don’t get it.  There was a flapper not long ago in the Raleigh paper, hair flattened down with tight curls, in a roaring twenties dress.  So, of course she was in her nineties.  Would any of our current acquaintances recognize us if we put our high school picture in our announcement?  Is it the families that do this?  Or do we, upon reaching a certain age, pick out our best shot from fifty years ago and designate it as our ‘parting’ shot?

    I can see that some people may just not have a more current picture, but in this digital day and age, I would think they would be in the minority.

    So, for heaven’s sake, anybody who doesn’t have a recent picture, please ask your grand kids to snap one of you, so we won’t have to move you through all three focal levels in our glasses to figure out even that we knew you!

    Now I’m going to look up Andy’s obit to see what his picture was like.  Here it is:

    ANDY ROONEY'S OBITUARY PHOTO

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    My Husk

    Thursday, December 22nd, 2011

    GWENDIE

    Sometimes I feel like my husk, my body, is getting ready to shed, leaving only “me”—my core, my soul, my essence—behind.  And where will I be then?  Or maybe the question should be, what happens to the core “me”?

    Some would say heaven or hell.  Others would say the essence returns to the universe in some other form.  Others say that “I” will be born again, perhaps as some lower being, perhaps as a more enlightened being.  Some might believe that, after death on this planet, the soul returns to somewhere in space where it originated.

    All those ideas are attractive to me in some ways, but not completely satisfactory.  I have a very hard time “believing” in anything that takes place after I’m gone from this earth.  Even though I take on faith that electricity makes the light bulb glow, and I can’t see electricity.  But then, almost everyone agrees (has been taught) about electricity.  But not everyone agrees about what happens after the body, the husk, has been shucked.

    .

    My body, the body I’ve never been all that fond of, has proved to be much more resilient than I every imagined it could be.  It has survived, although with considerable wear and tear, numerous and considerable assaults—from chemotherapy and radiation and immune disease and countless episodic drugs for infections and “conditions” like gastrointestinal upsets of various kinds.

    I should be more appreciative of this body, this husk that protects the real me, as best it can.  There’s only so much an old husk (I am 70, after all) can do to beat off the many threats to its integrity.  There comes a time when rejuvenation, or return to the original state, is no longer possible.  That’s where my body is now. And I find myself (the real me) frustrated with this.

    I miss the good old days when I could come down with something and then get over it.  There’s no getting over it anymore.  As one of my friends says, now it’s just all patch, patch, patch.  Making do with the “new normal”, which changes frequently as my body deals, successfully or not so much, with new challenges—new drugs, new problems in the body, new attitudes in the “real me.”

    Lately, I’ve noticed that the general culture has picked up on the insight that positivity is a good thing.  And that “being present” can relieve stress.  So we have lots of platitudes posted on websites and sent in emails and embroidered on pillows and printed on greeting cards, and in fact, just about everywhere.

    Be here nowSmile, God loves you.  Love is the answer.  But I’m still stuck on shit happens! And that’s how I view the wearing down of my body, my husk.  It’s just one of those things.  Shit happens.  And as to what will happen to me, my core, my essence when my body, my husk fails totally, well, it’s always good to have a little mystery in your life.

     

    BE HERE NOW

     

    Aging & Gratitude

    Monday, November 7th, 2011

    Dee Charlton

    I’m grateful to be one of the lucky, reunion re-connections that formed over the past 18 months with Annice, one of the co-founders of this wonderful blog Oops50.com.  Our friendship goes back to 6th grade summer camp, and if my math is right, that’s 47 years ago.  The camp was devised by the school district to facilitate kids from several grade-schools to meet and spend time together prior to the major transition into the adult world of 7th grade!  We became fast friends.  We were 12 years old.

    October 23, 2011 – I turned 59.  How strange it feels to be writing for this blog and and saying, I’m almost 60 !!   How did that happen? The Bonnie Raitt song; “Nick of Time” keeps playing over and over in my head, especially the lyric; “… no matter how I tell myself – it’s what we all go through,  those lines are pretty hard to take when they’re staring back at you..”   In the Nick of Time  You ain’t never lied sister Bonnie!

    My husband, Scott and I have been traveling the country in our motor coach since April.  We just returned to beautiful Sarasota, Florida Nov. 1st, and I’m sitting in front of the computer looking at our wedding photo taken in Italy.

    Dee's wedding in Italy

    Next to that is the photo we had taken last month in Las Vegas, it was our 5th anniversary – wow.  What a life, what a journey this has been!  I can’t say I remember what I wanted my life to be when I was younger except that I wanted to be independent and travel, and now I can say yes to both of those goals.

    I’m also feeling how fortunate I’ve been to experience the wonder of this country – the canyons, the mountains, the Bad Lands, Death Valley, White Sands, Alaska and hot air balloon festivals.  I’ve even jumped out of an airplane and para-glided off a mountain.  I’m grateful for it all, and for Scott.

    Next - Pilot's license

    Back to my birthday – it was harder than I expected it to be.  All day, I was fighting back tears.  I know I’m not afraid of death, I’ve been faced with it on more than one occasion.  So what was tearing me up?  Aging?  Vanity?  Am I that vain?  I guess I am, but is that worse than death??

    I think it finally hit me when I texted Fran (my wonderful step-daughter) something my mother said to me on my birthday: “Welcome to the last year of your 50s!”  Thanks Mom.  Her stand-up routine could use a little refining, but I love her anyway.  And thank you Fran for letting me cry on your long distance shoulder.  For every year that passes me by, I come one more year closer to losing my Mom, and that hurts a lot.

    Dee with Mom

    Honestly, I’ve just gotten to know my mother well about seven years ago, and I cherish her as my real best friend.  I am a lucky 59 year old woman in so many ways!

    Born in Collinwood (Cleveland) OH, Dee’s family followed what she likes to refer to as the Italian Migratory Route from Little Italy in Cleveland to the ‘burbs where her mother still resides. 

    After graduating from high school, she struck out on her own in her first apartment, later to be hired by the same people who built, owned and managed the complex.  

    Her career in Property Management took her to New York, New Hampshire, and finally Florida, a place she wanted to stay.  In the early 90’s, Dee was hired by a national company and traveled the country promoting motivational speakers to help people get rich quick – just like they did.  It wasn’t unusual for her to come home with half a million dollars in her briefcase.  Eventually, Dee settled down in Sarasota.where she met her husband, Scott, and married in Santa Maria di Castellabati, Italy, just south of the Amalfi coast.  Today, they live in Sarasota during the winter months and travel the rest of the year in their motor coach.

     

    Farmer Nancy on Aging Horses

    Friday, November 4th, 2011

    My horse vet had called to say he’d be late.  There was an old horse that couldn’t get up, and he needed to go put it down.  When he arrived at our barn, he said a curious thing: ‘That old horse was 38!  I don’t want my horses to live to be 38!” I looked down at the medical report I’d dug up on my mare and glanced at her age: 28.  I started doing a mental census of our 27 horses’ ages—but quickly stopped before depression set in.  Yes, aging horses can be tough, and they certainly are living longer these days.  Just last year, out of frustration at always guesstimating our herd’s ages, I made a definitive list of everyone’s age.  It was shocking.  How could Moe and Sunny be 28?  That little pony that we got for my daughter when she was about 7!  He’s nearly 30??  (Of course, my daughter’s almost 22, so I suppose that’s right.)

    Farmer Nancy

    College Boyfriend's Horse Pic

    There are the people who go through a horse period, when their child is taking lessons.  Maybe they even buy a horse.  But as soon as the child loses interest or the horse becomes unusable, they’re done with it.  That horse may get passed along to the next brief enthusiast and the next, then maybe to a riding stable, but eventually there’s no real use for it—other than just being a horse.  What happens then?  More than likely, the horse ends up in a bad situation, gets put down or goes to the slaughter house.  

    One of our horses came with a long line of impressive show wins, and with a little notoriety from his time at a local barn, so, after having him for about 10 years, I called the previous owners to let them know how he was doing.  I could tell from their response that they thought I was nuts.  Like a lot of other people, they had no interest in finding out what had happened to their horse after they were finished with it.   

    I’m fortunate in that we have a farm, so we have never had to board our horses.  Of course, that is a double-edged sword—because if we had had to board them, we’d have never ended up with so many horses.  Some we got as sad-story rescues, such as the horse show jumper who wasn’t ever supposed to jump again who was being used as a jumping lesson horse, or the retired thoroughbred with the bent leg, or the little Arab, “Rosie”, we found on the side of the road.  (When I was little, my parents accused me of yelling “pick me up!” every time we passed some unfortunate creature on the side of the road.  I guess they never imagined I’d find a horse that way.)

    Jackson

    Rosie was a mess.  She was loose that day, grazing beside the road, but she normally lived in a muddy garage with a piece of barbed wire across it, right next to a busy road.  She’d gotten out in an ice storm and fallen.  There were wounds all over her.  When I found the owners, I offered to pay them $200 for her or to call Animal Control.  We brought her home that day.  Local men that came to help us pick up hay that season knew her.  They said she was always in a local parade.  One day I put a saddle on her.  It felt unnatural.   I wasn’t used to her high-head Arab carriage.  It was unnatural for her, too: she associated riding with fear, noise, and stress.  I never road her again, and that was ok.  To see her put on weight and just be a horse in the pasture was payment enough.  She has arthritis now, and one leg is bending at an odd angle.  When it gets cold outside, I blanket her, but every morning she’s there with her ears perked up, waiting for her food.  I doubt she’d be alive if we hadn’t brought her here. (more…)

    Co-Housing: On the Way to Wolf Creek Lodge

    Sunday, October 23rd, 2011

    Bob Miller

    One of the things I love about blogging is the ability to meet people anywhere – anytime.  When Sue Counts (guest blogger) wrote about co-housing a few weeks ago, we got tons of emails and comments from readers everywhere.  One such person was Bob Miller, and the next thing I knew, I was inviting him to be a guest blogger – our first male blogger on Oops50!  Thank you, Bob. 

    Annice

    My wife and I became members of a co-housing community called Wolf Creek Lodge earlier this year.  The lodge is currently under construction in Grass Valley, California.  We expect to move in sometime late in 2012.  We have chosen Wolf Creek Lodge as an appealing environment for our senior life style.

    Future Wolf Creek Lodge

    The conventional American living environment can be hostile to the senior species.  They want community, walking access to stores, entertainment and recreation.  They want low maintenance, sustainable housing.

    Community is important to me and my wife.  Earlier in our lives we found this at our workplace, through our children’s activities, our extended family, our church and sporting activities.  We no longer go out to work and our children are living their own lives and our older family members have passed away.

    We watched our parents become isolated in their later years.  We believe we can do better by taking action now before change becomes challenging.

    Who's Slowing Down?

    At Wolf Creek Lodge we will have our own condominium-style apartment, one of 30.  However, we will also use the common room, living room, patio and gardens.  We will invite friends to stay in one of several guest apartments.  We will stroll on the adjoining trails, walk to the nearby shops and enjoy the cultural activities of Grass Valley.

    Community will be at our front door.  Most evenings we will dine in the common room sharing cooking and clean up activities.  We will join others over coffee and relax on the patio.  We will continue to ski, bike and hike in the northern Sierra, which are only an hour away.

    What a Ride

    We realize that as the years pass we may become unable to drive and our physical capabilities may become more limited.  The Wolf Creek Lodge environment will continue to work for us.  The lodge even includes an apartment for a care-giver, should we need extra help.

    Wolf Creek Lodge is a creation of its evolving community.  The community worked with the architect on the design to oversee the construction and formulate the processes which will guide the members’ common activities.

    Already, months before moving in, we are enjoying the community.  We are in constant electronic communication with all the other members and attend the General Meeting in Grass Valley once a month.  My wife has a key role on the landscape committee reviewing the planting plans and identifying members who want to work in the gardens.  I help on the marketing and technical committees.

    Under Construction

    On the marketing committee I am working to find people to join us and fill the remaining 6 apartments.  It’s fascinating to talk to potential members as they try to understand this co-housing concept.  They pay us repeated visits to decide if they want to spend the rest of their lives with us.  They finally take the decision and pitch in.

    We do not really know what it will be like to live at Wolf Creek Lodge.  We are working hard with our new friends to make it happen and having both fun and challenges along the way.

    Bob Miller is currently a ski bum in Truckee, California.  Born in England of an English mother and a Scottish father, he moved to Scotland at the age of 11.  After graduating from Glasgow University with a degree in Physics he married Claire, started a family, and moved to the Boston area in 1978.  Bob’s career was in the computer industry.  Since his retirement, he moved with Claire to Truckee.  Besides skiing, he rides his road bike and hikes in the Sierras.

     

     

     

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