Gusty winds and old age

Start of Jingle Bell run/walk 12/14

After my usual time at the coffee shop, my friend Steve and I began a tentative walk yesterday morning, with the wind raging around us, but little to no precipitation. At first, it seemed like it would be okay to just walk to the boulevard, but the wind really scared me, since it was either not blowing at all, or lightly, and then a huge gust would come roaring down the street and almost blow me over. I didn't find it to be a comfortable walk at all, so we decided instead to head to a restaurant and have breakfast, a more leisurely way to enjoy the morning. That was very nice, indeed.

We saw the beginning of the 40th anniversary of the Jingle Bell run/walk in front of Bellingham High School. There were plenty of people dressed in festive gear, lots of people with their dogs (since they were encouraged to join in), strollers with babies, and just plain folks going out to have some fun. The event is sponsored by the Arthritis Foundation and includes a 5K untimed walk, a 1-mile run, a Dog Trot, and a special kids-only mile-long run. It looked like everybody was having a good time, and they didn't seem to mind the wind gusts as much as I did. For somebody who jumped out of airplanes and loved to ride the wind, this old lady, these days, has lost her desire for that kind of excitement. 

I came to the conclusion last week that, once you enter your ninth decade of life, when you hit eighty, things begin to change in many ways. I thought about how I am now deep into retirement and would not be considered for any kind of paying job. Who would hire me now? I don't know why it occurred to me all of a sudden like that, but it did. And I am definitely slowing down. I started volunteering at the Senior Center on Thursdays, which used to be my hiking day. Although there are some hikes I would like to do again, I am now limited by the elevation and length of certain ones. And I've done them all many, many times. Tuesday's shorter and less difficult hikes suit me perfectly. Plus I am also going to new places, some in Canada, and I am enjoying them very much. The people I hike with are mostly the same ones, unless they are significantly younger than me. I can allow myself to find new ways to get exercise. 

I feel very fortunate to still be as active as I am as a super-old senior. Once I looked up the stages of elder life on line, and found this:

The United States' older adult population can thus be divided into three life-stage subgroups: the young-old (approximately 65 to 74 years old), the middle-old (ages 75 to 84 years old), and the old-old (over age 85).

My friend John will soon enter the old-old category, and I asked him where he thought he might be in five years, and he said, "Dead." He takes many prescriptions daily, and is barely ambulatory. Although it takes him awhile to get going, he still does what he can. I take him as a cautionary tale about whether to keep on exercising and walking and working out as I have done for decades. But there is no doubt that I have entered that final stage of life. My senses are diminished, especially my ability to see clearly, and I know that is a progressive situation that cannot at this time be avoided. Maybe one day there will be a more suitable treatment for geographic atrophy, but for now I am taking those awful eye injections and will continue for as long as I have central vision in my left eye. The right eye's central vision is already gone, although I still have my peripheral vision in that eye. I can still navigate quite well with the one eye, and that is the reason I can still write these posts. I live with the dread of what my life will be like when I lose it. The treatment is only to slow down the progression, not fix it, so I know what's ahead.

But eyesight is just part of what one loses as you age. Sometimes I get really discouraged and wonder why this particular phase of life can be so long. I don't see any reason to justify old age, except here I am and all I did was continue to breathe, one day, one breath at a time. I got middle-old while I wasn't paying attention. And I see all stages of elder life at the Senior Center and realize I am very much one of the lucky ones because I can still stride forth with vigor, stretch and reach in my yoga classes, and will carry on for as long as possible. What else can I, or anyone, do?

Old age, believe me, is a good and pleasant thing. It is true you are gently shouldered off the stage, but then you are given such a comfortable front stall as spectator. —Confucius

Of course, Confucius died at 73 in 479 BC, but during his life he established a school of moral teachings that continues to this day. You can learn about him on his Wikipedia page here. By the way, I am one of the few people who continues to give money to the people who created Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia that I visit almost every day. If you want to help them out, please consider giving to this important organization. Whatever you do, it would be wonderful if you would find a few causes that you find useful and help with whatever you can afford. I don't give much, but there are a few organizations that I think are worth my time and money. Wikipedia is one of them. That's my pitch for the holiday season, friends. Now back to my regularly scheduled post.

I never know for sure where these posts will go, since I sit down with little to no idea of whether anything will emerge from the depths of my mind, but something always does. I know that my posts are sometimes unfocused (like me) and sometimes spot on (like I sometimes am), but I will continue with this endeavor for as long as I can. One day you will come here and find that I didn't post anything, and you will know that for whatever reason, this activity has come to a close. Everything changes, life moves on, and as Confucius says, we are "gently shouldered off the stage" and inevitably turn over the future to the young ones.

For the moment, all continues as usual. My dear friend John will come for me in his truck and we'll go out for breakfast. My sweet guy will be up by then and start his day, but for now he sleeps quietly next to me. Our adventure together will continue, for now. And this holiday season will become a memory, hopefully a good one for us all. I am feeling better since I sat down to write here, which is why I do it, and hopefully you will find some words of wisdom in here. You can't go wrong with Confucius. 

Until we meet again, dear friends, I wish you all good things, and a very happy holiday season. Be well.

Turbulent times

Holiday trees with white lights

I saw these pretty trees draped with white lights as I rode my bus to the coffee shop last week. I know that now Thanksgiving has occurred, one day I will notice that all the white lights have changed to blue ones. The city does it every year. I much prefer the white lights, but it really doesn't matter; they are all festive and what people want to see. 

Given the wet weather, I thought I might not get to take my usual Saturday hike with my friend Steve, but after we received a full inch of rain on Bellingham Friday night, I went out on Saturday morning pretty sure that we would take a walk around the harbor (which we did) since all the trails would be more than a little soggy. We started out with low dark skies, but no rain. Before we had traveled three miles, however, the rain started. And it rained. It blew the rain sideways at times, and we struggled back to our cars after having gotten really soaked. No matter: I ended up with more than five miles and 13,000 steps, so it was a good morning.

The best part of the weather was that the cold, foggy days that we've endured for the last week are now gone. The temperature is moderate, but the feeling that winter is just around the corner now dominates. And of course, everywhere is decorated with Christmas cheer, and I see plenty of smiles bestowed even by the people I see on the streets.

Yes, even those homeless people whom I see out there trying to stay warm and dry, even they seemed to be in a fairly good mood, when I walked by their encampments yesterday. I suppose they are not as clued in to the suffering and turbulence going on in the rest of the world right now, since they are busy dealing with their own difficult versions. I have a nice warm and safe place to come home to every day, so the weather is not so critical to me. I can get drenched and still come home and change into something dry, making my encounters with bad weather much less of an adventure. Life would be so different if I had to live without a home. 

And with all that is happening in the world today, right now, if I spend too much time contemplating humanity's ills, I get bogged down in it myself, and tend to forget to look up from the news and regain a better perspective. I have long believed that much of our pain and suffering can be mitigated by getting good exercise and practicing yoga. Overnight, the Syrian dictator Assad was toppled and fled to parts unknown. The Middle East is in extreme turmoil. I read the news this morning and reluctantly pulled away to write this post. I did wonder where yoga that is practiced here in the West originated, so I looked it up.

Yoga is a method for restraining the natural turbulence of thoughts, which otherwise impartially prevent all people, of all lands, from glimpsing their true nature of Spirit. Yoga cannot know a barrier of East and West any more than does the healing and equitable light of the sun. —Paramahansa Yogananda

I have practiced some form of yoga for most of my life. When I was a young person in Boulder, I was introduced to several different yoga teachers who held classes and seminars for the public. I well remember one female yogini who filled a classroom with people like me, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor. In those days, I could easily sit in the lotus position, but now I use a meditation bench which allows me to do a version called virasana. The main thing about sitting in meditation is to keep the back straight. 

If you want to know more about yoga, especially hatha yoga, you can find plenty of information about it online. Start with learning about asanas, the body posture used as a basis for most physical and mental exercises.

An āsana (Sanskrit: आसन) is a body posture, originally and still a general term for a sitting meditation pose, and later extended in hatha yoga and modern yoga as exercise, to any type of position, adding reclining, standing, inverted, twisting, and balancing poses. 

Ooops! I got off onto a long sidetrack by reading for too long about it all. Well, I do need to finish this post so I can continue with the rest of my day. Just reading about yoga, even without practicing it, seems to make me feel better about life. And I do spend some time in meditation every morning, meaning I don't want to get too carried away here and forget about all the rest of my morning practice.

It is the beginning of the winter season, in just a few weeks we will have our longest night (in the Northern Hemisphere) and shortest day. Some people get really SAD during this time (that would be Seasonal Affective Disorder) because they miss the sunshine. Since I make a point of getting outdoors almost every day, it doesn't seem to affect me that much. Plus, I love to snuggle down into my comforter and fall into a restorative sleep every night. I feel very blessed not to have much problem falling asleep, but there are times when I wake and cannot get back to sleep right away. I usually practice some breathing exercises to help, and it almost always works. At least, I awake without having been aware of falling asleep.

A Christmas hot chocolate

I found this picture in my catalog of times past, taken two years ago by my friend Melanie. I think we might have been having a bit of alcohol under all that whipped cream, but I can't be sure. I like the festive feeling in the air, and although I no longer use a mask whenever I go out (that's the blue thing under my chin), it could have been taken today. I was a mere youth of 80 at that time, though, and I now officially two years older. How time flies!

Well, my dear friends, that will have to do for this morning's post. I must get up out of bed and start the rest of my day, so that I will be ready when John gets here to take me to breakfast. My dear partner still sleeps next to me, and the day beckons. I do hope that you, dear friends, will have a wonderful week ahead and that we will meet here once again next week. Until then, I wish you all good things.

Birthday again already?

Aldo Leopold bench on Cypress Island

Yes, it's that time again: my birthday, just when I had been getting used to being 81, now I am 82. This lovely picture of an Aldo Leopold bench on Cypress Island was taken exactly one year ago Friday. I learned about Aldo from my virtual friend Connie years ago. She sent me a copy of the book, A Sand County Almanac, written by Leopold, and first published in 1949 by his son. I might just read it again, since I remember how much I enjoyed it but have forgotten why, other than a few vivid scenes that live in my memory through his writing.

During the past winter, I went on several excursions by water taxi to different San Juan islands that are only accessible by boat. I didn't realize it had been a full year until I went back through my pictures, looking for something to head up this post and found this one. Leaves have fallen and the bushes and branches are into their winter mode. And we are there once again, after a year of sprouting, turning into blossoms and fruiting, before again returning to rest for another winter.

At my age, there are few new adventures for me to experience, after a full lifetime of them. Here I am again, looking forward to winter after a beautiful (although wet) fall here in the Pacific Northwest. Every year, however, I realize that I am no longer young, and no longer interested in finding new adventures. I'm resting on my laurels instead. What does that mean exactly?

To “rest on our laurels” means to relax and rely on our past achievements or success as justification for not achieving new things or new success. It comes from the ancient Greek and Roman societies, where high-ranking and high-achieving people were awarded crowns made of laurel leaves to mark their accomplishments.

It seems like an accomplishment for me just to have reached this age, since all but one of my family members never made it this long. Daddy died at 62, Mama at 69, my grandmother to 79, and here I am beginning my eighty-third year of life on this planet. I don't remember many individual birthdays from long ago, other than vague recollections, such as turning 21 and going to a bar for the first time and ordering a drink. Or turning sixteen and getting my driver's license and promptly crunching in the front fender of my dad's car. In later years, my friend Lily has given me some nice gatherings to mark the day, such as this one:

Not hard to tell which one this was

She gave me the balloon afterwards, and I realized how much I didn't want to advertise my new decade, but it was such a nice gesture that I appreciated it anyway. She is a good friend and is currently out of town, so no birthday celebrations for me today. My guy wanted to buy me some fudge bars to celebrate, but my recent blood work has caused me to decide to cut back sweets. My triglycerides are too high and I need to stop eating so many sugary delights. It will be my task to get the numbers lower for my next trip to the doctor. Other than that, everything looks good, which makes me wonder just what awful disease will probably cause my demise.

Maybe it's normal to get to my age and wonder about such things. One thing I know, I will not be getting any surgeries or chemo to extend life into my nineties. Life does not seem quite as exciting when you've lost your sight. Although I still have enough to get by right now, my retina specialist doesn't pull any punches: I'm going to become legally blind in the not-so-distant future. Tomorrow I get my next eye jab, and so far I've still got central vision in my left eye. But as I said, life will become harder when it's gone. For someone who has taken her sight for granted, it will be a real game-changer. But not yet, for now I can see well enough to write here, and to read the news websites and watch episodes of my favorite shows on my laptop. I also realized the other day that I can still see everything, just not all at once. I have two magnifying glasses that are essential for seeing some things, and I have my sweet partner to function as my eyes when I drop something and it seemingly disappears.

I have so much to be grateful for, and I never take for granted the ability I have to get outdoors and enjoy the wonderful walks and hikes that I still take every day. My doctor told me not to stop moving, it's essential for my physical and mental health, and I intend to do that for as long as possible. Tuesday the Happy Wanderers will be heading to British Columbia for a nice six-mile walk along the Fraser River, a walk that is new to me. And yesterday I got in my usual Saturday walk with my friend Steve. We went to Fairhaven along the South Bay trail and watched flocks of Canada geese, both in the water and on the boulevard. We saw lots of people whose dogs had taken their owners for a walk, and plenty of happy smiles on faces everywhere. 

Today John will pick me up and take me to our regular place for breakfast, and I'll do my puzzles and watch a bit of TV, and start my Advent calendar, which was sent to me by a friend. Advent starts today, and this calendar gives me some presents to "open" each day until Christmas. To sum everything up in a few words, "life is good." I feel very blessed to start my eighty-third year with you, my dear virtual family, and my very own special partner, who sleeps next to me as I write this.

I sincerely hope that the coming month of December, which has the longest night and shortest day (in the Northern Hemisphere, that is), and where somewhere there are carolers going from house to house, snow is falling in other places, and the gentle quiet season settles around us. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.

After the bomb cyclone

by Gary Lindsay (Seeing Bellingham group)

Here in the Pacific Northwest, last week we experienced a "bomb cyclone" event that caused lots of rain, wind, downed trees and caused lost power for many, which does happen often during the late fall and winter months. Bomb cyclones are a little more rare; however, they do happen around here. But after this one, we had many rainbows appear in the sky, like a benediction from the heavens. I just finished spending some time on Facebook's "Seeing Bellingham" group, and I snagged the picture above from Gary Lindsay, who publishes his photos often to share them with fellow Bellingham denizens.

What is a bomb cyclone, you ask? So did I, and this is what I found on the internet:

Bombogenesis can happen when a cold air mass collides with a warm air mass, such as air over warm ocean waters. It is popularly referred to as a bomb cyclone.

 Many residents in the area are still without power, almost a week later. We didn't lose ours, but when I went to the coffee shop last Friday, I overheard some people say they still didn't have theirs restored. And one of my usual hiking groups, which did a big loop of more than 11 miles last Thursday, posted pictures of the damage to many trees they encountered, so much so that they lost the trail at times. Everyone made it back safely, but I suspect that it qualified as a real adventure! I was busy at my volunteer job of serving around a hundred seniors lunch, after setting up the tables and, afterwards, wiping everything down and putting it all back, to be taken out the next day when it all starts over again. I have decided to make Thursday my regularly scheduled work, with the caveat that if I need to take a day off to join a hike, it would be fine. With the weather turning rather bleak, I am not looking to do that anytime soon.

I have my annual wellness check scheduled for Monday, and a week later I will get my next eye jab. I can't believe how much I obsess over that ten-second episode, but I do. There are two hours of preparation beforehand (eye exams, dilation, numbing, etc.) and a few minutes afterwards before I am taken home by my husband. My eye is uncomfortably sore for about an hour, before it all settles down again. Plus I discovered that next year, when I start a new Medicare Advantage plan, I'll be paying $325 for the privilege of having the procedure. My old plan has bitten the dust, and I did check for something that covers the majority of it. They charge the insurance company almost 5K for each shot. I pondered having it all stop, but frankly, whatever it takes for the possibility of keeping my central vision in my left eye around for awhile longer, I'll do it. Losing my eyesight has been very challenging, but I can still see well enough for most of my daily routines.

That said, I am also very glad to have the opportunity to cherish each day of relative health and happiness that I still enjoy. It's either that, or spend my days wishing things were different, and that does nothing but cause sadness and emotional pain. It's not always easy to grow older and more infirm as the days, weeks and months pass by, but the alternative is unacceptable: denial, or worse, hopelessness. When I look back at my life, the peaks and valleys, they sort of morph into a gentle wave, a tide if you will, that we all ride.

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages. —William Shakespeare

This comes from a longer monologue by Shakespeare in his play, "As You Like It," and is interesting to think about. I knew it from earlier times when I could read more easily, but I remember thinking about it and pondering its meaning even back then. Wikipedia has a page that contains the entire poem, if you are interested, here. In reading it again this morning, I was struck by the last lines:  

Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Little by little, we move through life's stages and inevitably die, which is the fate of all living things. But reading about Shakespeare this morning, I realize that some of us continue to have effects on others long after we have left the stage ourselves. Shakespeare is one of those people. His lifetime (1564-1616) shows he lived to be into his fifties, which was a full life in those days. I imagine he didn't actually end up "sans" everything, but who knows? Did people who lived into their fifties in those days also end up in a second childhood? I imagine if I didn't have dental care that I would probably not having all the teeth I have today, and people centuries ago did not live to be in their eighties very often, I suspect.

So, looking at my life, I realize that it's been a wonderful adventure, filled with lots of peaks and valleys, and now I sit here in my bed, in the dark, with my dear partner sleeping quietly next to me as I write on my laptop. The room is illuminated by its white screen. I have been doing this now for more than 760 Sundays, and I have not missed any, I don't think.  I remember writing one from my bed in Istanbul when I was there, and many times from Florida visiting my sister. I don't do that every year any more. Travel has become really difficult without being able to see all that well, and it's unnecessary anyway. FaceTime once a months suffices.

Norma Jean and I have been in each other's lives for the entire time we've been alive. I had a short two years between my birth and hers when she wasn't around, but otherwise we grew up together and share many memories of our family members who are long gone. And of course there are those vivid dreams when family members who have died will come to visit me. They are sometimes as realistic as if it were happening right then. The brain is a curious organ, isn't it? I am happy mine still seems to be functioning well enough these days. Tomorrow it might not be, but today is really all we have. That, and our memories, and our hopes and aspirations for the future. But they are just possibilities, not guarantees in any way.

Whatever the future holds for all of us, or any one of us, will be known one day, when the future is no longer the future but becomes the past. In any event, I will try to take advantage of every single day of this unique life of mine, and I will enjoy reading all the blog posts of my virtual friends and family, learning how to navigate our days as they come. And go.

And that is the cue for my exit from this post: it's almost time for me to get up and start the rest of my Sunday. John will be here to take me to breakfast, and then I'll come back home and spend some time with my guy, who will be up by then. And then it will be midday and hopefully not raining, so I can get in a nice walk. I do hope your days are good ones, and that you will be well and safe between now and when we meet again. I also hope you will find yourselves surrounded with love and happiness. Be well, my dear friends.

Grey, cold and windy

The harbor, in between raindrops

It's amazing to see how so many parts of the world are getting incredible amounts of rain, while others are in a serious drought. Last week in Spain, for instance, the country experienced extreme amounts of rain and flash floods, with hundreds killed or missing. And more is still to come, apparently. While all that rain fell there, places in Australia and others in the northeastern part of America are having unprecedented drought. Whether all of this strange weather might (or might not) be caused by climate change, it is very distressing for those caught up in it. There is no doubt that the entire world is affected by changing weather patterns. And nowhere is safe.

I feel rather fortunate to be dealing with just a few inches of rain and some wind, as we navigate through the fall and move into the winter months. All those leaves on last week's maple tree picture, today, show only a few still hanging on and many bare branches. In almost five weeks we will reach the longest night and shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere before the light returns. In the Christian calendar, Advent falls on December 1st, my birthday. This year, it's also the day before my next eye jab, which obviously I don't look forward to in any way. But I also won't miss it, since it's the only chance I have of keeping the central vision in my left eye.

I don't wish this awful eye disease (geographic atrophy) on anyone. Yesterday I walked with my friend Steve down the South Bay trail to Woods Coffee and back, and because it was so overcast and dark, my ability to see ahead was quite compromised. I am often reminded of the Biblical phrase "through a glass darkly." It means to have an imperfect or obscure vision of reality. It appears in 1 Corinthians 13:12, where the Apostle Paul writes, "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

As I continue to deal with this affliction, which will only get worse as I age, I think of Helen Keller, who suffered an infection as a toddler that took not only her sight, but also her ability to hear. She became almost feral in her early childhood, until her teacher, Anne Sullivan, was able to reach her through tapping the word "w-a-t-e-r" into her palm, and Helen finally got the message that allowed her to soar to heights that still astonish people today. In her long and productive life, she learned to read five languages, and she was the first deaf and blind person ever to graduate from college (Radcliffe) which she did by graduating cum laude with a BA degree in 1904. She didn't stop there: Helen met thirteen presidents during her lifetime, and wrote books that are still available today. She lived a long life and died at 87. If Helen could do all that, I think it's appropriate for me to start looking for ways for me to help others, rather than allow self-pity to dominate my life. Although she died in 1968, she still inspires others through her writing.

When I compare my life with hers, I realize that sight is not as important in becoming a good person as having a positive attitude about one's situation. I still remember from her memoir a time when she was reading a story (in Braille) and was so caught up in it that she had to stop and calm herself before continuing. I think it was "Tale of Two Cities" but I'm not sure. In any event, I am grateful for Helen's contribution to our world. She helped to establish the American Civil Liberties Union and was very active in politics. 

She changed her world in many ways, and it makes me wonder if I am being too passive in my own situation today. Although during the past election I supported the losing candidate, I learned so much about the ways America has changed, some for the better, since Helen was alive and active. For one thing, we have instant access to the news of the day, as well as plenty of misinformation that needs to be recognized for what it is. I wonder how she would have dealt with the issues that have emerged in our present-day world.

Helen Keller wrote 14 books and over 475 speeches and essays on topics such as faith, nature, racism, human rights, and overcoming adversity. She read avidly and wrote about many of the significant political, social, and cultural movements of the 20th century.

When I think of how much she accomplished, I realize that I shouldn't compare my life to hers, but instead concentrate on what I can still learn and share with others. If I take her life as an inspiration, I can see how just opening myself up to what I might achieve in the time I have left to me can enrich not only my own life, but others as well. I am eternally grateful for the ability to think clearly, feel deeply, and act accordingly. If I can inspire even one person to give themselves a much-needed pat on the back, it's worth trying, don't you think?

And now I sit here in the dark, thinking with affection about all of you, my dear virtual family, and what we can do to lift up our spirits, as well as those of our neighbors. Let's concentrate on all the good around us; it's there if we just look. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Feeling my way ahead

Favorite tree in glorious fall colors

I walk by this tree several times a week, year round. It's in Cornwall Park. A huge maple tree, I think a Japanese maple looking at the shape of the leaves. I am not someone who knows her trees, but this one looks so lovely through all the seasons, even in winter when it's bare of leaves. When we get our next windstorm, it will be completely bare. Until next spring, that is.

There are two meanings to the title of this post: the necessity to learn how to "see" things by feel, and finding my way through the sadness that engulfs me every time I think of the election this past week. We Democrats not only lost the presidency, but also the Senate and, most likely, the House of Representatives. Not to mention a Supreme Court that gave away the checks and balances that our founders put into the Constitution more than a quarter of a millennium ago. Even so, all of life's events that are born also have to face a demise. Perhaps this is the end of the wonderful experiment that they created so long ago, or maybe it's just another form of government being created. Who knows? I certainly don't and will probably not live to see the election of another president. I wrestle with fear and sadness almost every day.

Being alone with fear can rapidly turn into panic. Being alone with frustration can rapidly turn into anger. Being alone with disappointment can rapidly turn into discouragement and, even worse, despair. —Mark Goulston

Yes, I am sad, but I am also not wanting to withdraw from life and all the challenges that I face every day. You see, the other part of the post's title has to do with losing my ability to see, to discern shapes as they truly are, and not the way my failing eyes skew my vision. Since I can still see well enough to write on my laptop, I will take advantage of this time to learn all I can about how others cope with low vision. I don't read books anymore, but I can still get any that I want to read in audio form. For the moment, I can also continue to read blog posts from my online community, and continue to post twice a week without much problem.

Getting older and losing one's faculties is something everyone who is blessed to live a long life will have to deal with. Now that I am approaching my eighty-second birthday, I can proudly say I've already done it: gone through all the phases of life and have plenty of like-minded old people to hang out with. And that is what the Senior Center has given me already, and will continue to give me as I grow in my ability to serve others. That is one of the most amazing aspects of aging: finding new ways to be happy and not taking any of my days for granted.  

Like many others, I was devastated on Wednesday morning when I woke to see the news, and the only good part about it is realizing that many of my fellow Americans got just what they wanted. I happen to live in a blue state, and during the election season I didn't see even one Trump/Vance sign. Plenty of Harris/Walz ones, though, and it gave me the wrong impression of the direction the country was headed. I just didn't expect the gut punch I received on Wednesday morning, and now I am trying to find my way ahead.

I am no stranger to grief, having lost both of my children and both of my parents, as well as a sister and many friends over the years. I know how to navigate grief, and I also know that the place I am in right now will change and become easier to bear as the days and weeks pass. When my infant son Stephen died, I was only 22 and had very little ability to navigate the headwaters I faced. It took me a decade to find happiness and wholeness again, but I did, of course. My son Chris was only 4 when he lost his brother, and then his father when we divorced. He bore the scars of his childhood until he too died at the age of 40 while serving in the Army. The feeling I have today resembles the one I felt in the early days after Chris' sudden death.

Yesterday morning I went on my usual walk from the coffee shop with my friend Steve. I was in a black mood when we started, but after a mile or so of being outside in the light rain showers with a good friend, I began to feel much more like myself. Exercise always makes me feel better, and this week I discovered another way to cope: service to others. When I worked on Thursday through the lunchroom hours, I didn't think for a moment about anything except what I had to accomplish to help others enjoy their lunch. I walked out on my way to the bus, feeling whole and happy for the first time this week. It makes me realize what a difference it makes when one stops wallowing in pain by helping others deal with life's ups and downs. Service: I think I'll do more of it.

And just by sitting here in the dark and writing down these words, I realize that I am more grounded and feeling better today than I thought I would. Today, by the way, would have been my son Chris' sixty-third birthday. He never had the chance to grow old, but I can imagine the balding gray-haired old gentleman he would have turned into, since so many of my companions have already done so. Although I don't celebrate his birthday these days, I can send a missive of love and appreciation into the Universe for his life. 

Thank you to my dear readers as well, for being there, for going through your own lives and finding ways to deal with all the travails that come our way during the weeks and years we share. I hope I will be able to see well enough to continue this endeavor for a bit longer, but don't you worry, I'll find a way. My sweet partner still sleeps next to me at this moment, and I have plenty of blog posts to read this morning, as the rain gently falls outside. Soon my friend John will pick me up and we'll go out for our Sunday morning breakfast. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.

It's that time again

Leaves carpeting the trail

As much as I love this time of year, for many reasons, I don't enjoy the rain as much as I once did, but the beautiful fallen leaves gracing the trail remain delightful. I'm feeling pretty good and watching the bounteous summer turning into autumn also makes me grateful for my ability to watch the show and play in the cool air once again.

The other thing that happens at this time of year is changing our clocks back one hour. It means that, although my clock says it's 4:30 in the morning, I need to find a subject that will inspire both me and my readers, and right now nothing is coming.

I did come up with the idea of discussing "the vicissitudes of life," whatever that means. Spending some time reading about what different schools of thought consider to be "vicissitudes" is enlightening. According to Buddhist thought, the eight vicissitudes of life are four sets of opposites: gain and loss, status and disgrace, praise and censure, pleasure and pain. The word vicissitude is a descendant of the Latin noun vicis, meaning "change" or "alternation," and it has been a part of the English language since the 16th century. It's not a word that you hear a lot these days, or a concept that is often written about, apparently. Or maybe I have just not been reading much of anything and I have forgotten about it.

Joy is a spiritual element that gives vicissitudes unity and significance.—Helen Keller

 I am always happy to find myself joyful, and although it comes sometimes without warning, I find myself looking for things that fill me with joy. I will sometimes be walking down the street in my usual neutral attitude, and suddenly I find myself feeling happy for no reason I can discern. Anything that takes my grumpy melancholy away is wonderful, even if I cannot exactly say why it happens.

Everyone has different techniques for getting through tough spots in life, and I often find that a walk will do it for me. After about a half hour or so of being outside in the weather, no matter what it is, I feel myself letting go of those things that hold back the joy of just being alive and ambulatory. And I have plenty of different types of clothing that will allow me to be outdoors and feel ready for the elements. That said, I find that I am not exactly thrilled to be heading outdoors in a rainstorm, but it sure does give me pleasure to face the vicissitudes of weather and not be forced indoors just because. Plus I have a warm home to enter, even if I'm wet, and getting into a hot shower and dry clothes is a delightful end to a soggy adventure. And I wouldn't have had it if I hadn't made the effort. No wonder it's often why I feel good afterwards.

By the time I write in this post next week, I'll know what happened with the American election. It's been a tough time for us all, including those who aren't even in this country, and I am hoping that the Universe will allow for the right outcome to emerge. And who knows what that is, really? We sure don't, because while our planet is going through its growing pains, other constellations and galaxies take a much longer view. An emerging star in the dust lanes of a distant cosmic nebula is not all that concerned with what is happening here on Earth.

Falling stars

For now, I'll keep using the tools I have in my own little corner of the world, those that have served me for decades and will probably help me get through the vicissitudes of life that I have ahead of me. Those of service, love for others, and an ability to take a longer view should keep me in one piece. For now.

I do hope that all of my virtual family are doing well, or as well as can be expected considering whatever vicissitudes of life you are facing at the moment. My dear sweet partner still sleeps quietly next to me, my tea is long gone, and I've got some time to read articles and comics on this gentle Sunday morning. John will pick me up and we'll go out for our usual breakfast. There will be more light in the sky for a few weeks, and the sun in this part of the country will set before 5:00 until next year. The dark days of winter lie ahead of us, before the cycle begins again. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Marcellus my new octofriend

Marcellus, white eye showing above his suckers

Yesterday, I went for a nice walk around the waterfront with my friend Steve. Although I am perfectly capable, for now, of going on these walks alone, I am really grateful to Steve for his companionship and conversation. We went more than five miles and, when we got to the Marine Life Center, we went in to visit the new octopus who is now a resident. He was picked up when some fishermen caught him in a net, and although injured, he has recovered quite well and is now eating and playing (as all octopuses seem to do) in a covered sanctuary. He can be viewed easily, as you can see from this picture, but signs everywhere remind visitors to talk softly and not to point at him. They are very sensitive creatures.

I first visited when Sherlock, another Giant Pacific octopus, had been captured and was available for viewing. When Sherlock was first captured, he was ten pounds and stayed for several months before being released back into the sea. He gained thirteen pounds during that time and made many human friends, who cared for him and probably still miss his presence. They can grow much larger, up to around 150 pounds during their relatively short life span.

Marcellus is much smaller, although another giant Pacific octopus, and he was given plenty of TLC when he first arrived and has gained a fair amount of weight in the short time he has been at the Center. He will also be released at some point in the future to return to his natural environment. It is fascinating to me to watch him, to wonder what is going on in his mind that allows him to settle into captivity and seemingly thrive. I was first enthralled by octopuses when, by chance, I watched a wonderful Netflix documentary about them. You can see it at My Octopus Teacher if you have a Netflix account. I've watched it several times and certainly will again.

Last Thursday, I almost decided to hike with my regular group, instead of working in the lunchroom at the Senior Center. But I finally did my usual volunteer session and ended up working harder than I have before. It was partly because they were serving Salisbury Steak, which apparently is a real favorite of the clientele. I ended up taking home a vegetarian patty, with mashed potatoes and green peas. There were so many people in line that some people had to eat and leaVe more quickly than usual to allow us to accommodate everyone. For the first time, there were still people coming through the door when we usually are finished for the day. Although I got very tired and ended up walking more than 10,000 steps during my shift, I found that when I tried to remember three or four requests in a row that I simply couldn't do it. 

I also learned that it makes a huge difference when people are appreciative of your efforts and don't just treat you like part of the furniture. An imperious snap of the fingers, pointing at an empty cup, didn't make me more likely to hurry to fill it. In fact, I found that when someone treated me like that, it made me angry and resentful. That was the first time in the lunchroom that I realized what a difference it makes when people are having a good time and pass along their appreciation to those around them.

I am also already seeing some regulars who must come for lunch every day, sit in the same places each time, surrounding themselves with the same companions and enjoying both the food and the camaraderie. I overheard someone telling another to be less judgmental of those of us serving them because we are volunteers, not paid staff.

The lunchroom before the onslaught

There are eleven round tables to set up, each with six chairs, which are stacked on the walls before we take them apart and put them around the tables. You can see the lazy susan in the center, holding ice water, glasses, salt and pepper, sugar packets, and a plastic flower bouquet. Everything except the flowers are wiped down carefully before and after we use them. Everyone works together, without anyone being in charge, helping one another.

'Thank you' is the best prayer that anyone could say. I say that one a lot. Thank you expresses extreme gratitude, humility, understanding. —Alice Walker

I really enjoy being part of a team, and I have made more friends who will be there with me as we work to help others. Through example, many people help others just by being appreciative, and others by showing the best way to accomplish a task. Everyone is working together and it lifts everybody up. As you can see, there is a good reason why I am enjoying my new role at the Senior Center.

It also helps me to remain positive, to look past the news of the world towards a better future, towards a brighter day ahead. All of us here on this tiny planet can do something to make today better for someone, and it also helps us as well, to bask in the hope ahead for a kinder, more gentle world. We can only accomplish a little bit of that, each day, but it adds up. And there are plenty of helpers along the way, if we look for them and fill our hearts with love and gratitude.

That's it for today, dear friends. When we meet again next week, I hope that your days are filled with happiness and healthy thoughts. I must say that just writing this post has helped me. I think of Marcellus, my new friend, and Michelle, another new friend who has helped me learn the lunchroom ropes. And many others who surround me with good vibes. Until we meet again, I wish you all good things. Be well.

I found my tribe

Me at the Volunteers party

Last Friday, we volunteers were treated to a wonderful Roaring Twenties party to introduce us to the new venue for the Bellingham Senior Center. It won't be ready for a couple of years, but I should be an old hand (in many senses of the word) by then, knowing all the tricks and trades of the kitchen helpers. Although I've now only been to four Thursday lunch setups and serving duties, I feel it's where I belong. I always get at least 10,000 steps running around and helping people, and no other volunteer activities seem to offer as much exercise, which (as you know) I love. If you give me a chance to move at top speed for more than two hours, and feeling well used at the end, it's my idea of time well spent. 

Lynda looking really pretty on the dance floor

The first task I had to undertake in this group is to accept that I belong here, with these seniors, and that I have something to offer that uses my skills and helps me to feel useful as I approach my eighty-second birthday. That large area where the seniors are dancing will be redesigned to be a place where many different activities can take place. Right now we are in a building that has few options for expansion. I took a tour of the new facility and am very impressed with how it will all be used.

I can still take the occasional Thursday hike with my old hiking partners, as they are also getting older and slower, but mostly I have migrated over to the Tuesday hikers, since they take a much less strenuous walk or hike and I end up being one of the more fit hikers, rather than struggling to keep up, as it often turns out with the Thursday hikes. I do know, however, that it's important to keep my exercise routine going for as long as I can. Once I stop, well, it will be something I did in my early years. When I was young, my whole life stretched before me, I would use the phrase "the rest of my life" as if it was infinite. But it's not. Life for each one of us is finite and limited by the events we experience, whether or not we stay active. 

When I was just starting out, when I first began to feel like an adult in my early teens, I had no idea what the future would hold for me. I remember a long-ago Fourth of July in our backyard, when Daddy gave us sparklers to play with, and he lighted them with a cigarette. He asked me to hold it while he set things alight, and I still remember how grown-up I felt holding a cigarette. Many years later I tried to stop smoking, and I finally succeeded in my thirties. No, that innocent foray long ago didn't get me started with smoking, but peer pressure and then addiction held me in its sway for much longer than I wanted.

And then as I simply lived my life, I got old and felt as though I could no longer be free to act like the kid I still felt myself to be. Life is a true blessing, and all the various iterations of the many versions of myself are still part of me. Being old is also a blessing, right? Not everybody gets to experience it.

The most important thing I can tell you about aging is this: If you really feel that you want to have an off-the-shoulder blouse and some big beads and thong sandals and a dirndl skirt and a magnolia in your hair, do it. Even if you're wrinkled. —Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou was one of the most prolific poets of her day; she was born in 1928 and lived to be 86. She was always an inspiration to me, and the phrase "I know why the caged bird sings" is what I think of when I remember her. It communicates everything to me. That's another aspect of age: I think of those who are already dead as mentors who will help me over that hump we all face in our future. When I was young, I felt that once you had died you were simply gone. I don't think that any more, partly because of the continuing effects on the living that many who are gone still impart to those of us still here.

When I ponder the wonderful gift I have been given, the life I have lived and continue to enjoy, even through the tribulations of change and diminishment, I cannot help but be filled with gratitude. All of the many people I have been are still part of me: the mother who played with her infant and the mother who buried them. The earthbound person who learned to fly in the air with her friends, and the person who finally gave it up when it was time. The person who searched for her tribe once she got old, and finally found it at the Senior Center, surrounded by others who find that service to others is very uplifting and joyful.

It certainly helps me continue to enjoy life to be able to share it with my dear partner, he who shares my days and sleeps next to me every night. And I do cherish all the wonderful gifts of community that I have with my virtual family as well. The fact that I can still see well enough to read and write is something I never take for granted these days. I know one day it will be gone, but then again, so will this body. It wasn't made for permanence, whatever that is. The only true constant of our existence is change, and I accept that with joy and sorrow. Glad I have it now, but sorry it will be gone in the future.

Mercy! This turned out to be different than I expected it to be, when I decided to write about my new senior existence. But it's appropriate, and I do feel better now that it's out of my head and poured into the post. I think of you, my dear virtual family, often when I consider that the continuance of my days and our time together will one day pass away, but not yet, not now. You deserve to look for joy and happiness in your days, just as I also deserve the same thing. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Election Day is coming

Dahlias at Hovander Park

I am a real fan of dahlias, which only come to grace our gardens with their blossoms at the end of summer and early fall. These were taken when the Senior Trailblazers went to Hovander Park in Ferndale a couple of weeks ago. Since we have still not had a hard frost, I expect that they are still doing well. We've had a few nights of temperatures in the low 40s (6°C), but nothing colder than that. Yet.

However, this weekend has given us the most wonderful cool and sunny weather that anyone could hope for, even those used to more moderate temperatures, like people from Hawaii or more temperate climes than we get here in the winter. We are just entering fall, and winter is a few months away. 

Leaves are starting to fall

But between us and winter lies another scary time, and I'm not talking about Halloween. It's the American election. I am going to take a moment away from my usual (hopefully) uplifting posts to discuss what is uppermost in my mind right now: the election in three weeks. Any day now, we who live in Washington State should receive our ballots in the mail and will fill them out and either post them, or place them in a drop box outside the Bellingham City Hall. Given the stakes of this election, both me and my guy are anxiously awaiting them and will fill them out and get them into the drop boxes right away.

Not only do I consider it to be our civic duty to vote, but frankly, it is the ONLY thing I can do other than to send money to my preferred candidates. That's all available to me at this moment in time. When we lived in Colorado, we were some of the very early voters in line to cast our votes on Election Day, and at first I really didn't like that we couldn't have that moment duplicated here in Washington State. But now I have grown to prefer it this way, because we can be assured that our votes will definitely be counted and not manipulated in any way. 

I am really having a hard time understanding why this election is so close. What is it about Trump that he has such loyal followers when his rhetoric is so hard to follow? And when he is saying such awful things about his fellow citizens? By this time in the election, I expected that the polls would reflect a landslide for Kamala, but no, as the days pass, her lead is shrinking and we are in danger of Trump being re-elected once again. I was so happy when Biden dropped out and endorsed Harris, an amazing woman with stellar credentials for the job. She started out strong, and I watched the entire Democratic convention and enjoyed the spectacle and everyone who spoke. It was like a balm to my liberal soul to watch so many people all around the country come together with joy and enthusiasm.

Election days come and go. But the struggle of the people to create a government which represents all of us and not just the one percent — a government based on the principles of economic, social, racial and environmental justice — that struggle continues. —Bernie Sanders

I voted for Bernie and was disappointed when he was not our candidate, but I voted enthusiastically for Hillary and was looking forward to our first woman president. Now I am there again, but I've learned the lesson of 2016: don't assume you know what the electorate will do. Of course, Hillary won the popular vote but lost the Electoral College. And we might be seeing a repeat of eight years ago once again. So, here I am sitting at my computer in the dark, typing away and hoping for the best. I wish I could take a longer view and realize that all things work together for good, eventually, but there are so many people all around the world suffering horribly that I forget sometimes to simply stop and just sit, fold my hands in prayer, and turn it all over. The only person who can help me to see the longer view is me.

Yesterday I had the most delightful walk to Squalicum Harbor with my friend Steve. We walked around five miles, and I have now begun to hold his arm whenever we are together, taking it just above his elbow, and feeling safe whenever we come to an obstacle or street corner. At first I held it only at the street corners, but I began to hold on longer and longer, because it made me feel so much more confident. He's like my Seeing Eye Buddy, but I don't get to see him except on Saturdays and for a few minutes on Thursday before he heads off to teach his chemistry class. He still works full time at the local community college.

We met in the coffee shop more than a year ago, but I cannot imagine my life today without his company. He's very smart and taught me to do sudoku, but I've let it go because I enjoy word games much more than numbers. We play some New York Times games like Wordle and Connections before we head out the door on our walk. The one thing we rarely do is talk politics, since we both need to look on the bright side of life and just enjoy being together. He has become a good friend indeed.

I wish there was a way to describe what is happening with my eyesight. Last week I had the third eye jab in my left eye, and I don't think I've lost any vision since I started with the injections, but they only slow the progression, not stop it, so I am always braced for what comes next. I realize that I can continue to write here and read your blogs, only because of what's still not gone from the left eye. Everything eventually comes to an end, and I will find some way to enjoy my life and find new activities once I can no longer see to read. Habits of a lifetime are just that: habits. I will find new ones and discover a way to keep myself happy and content in my life with whatever comes next. I am already well into my eighties and so I am not looking to start anything too difficult or time consuming. 

Volunteering at the Senior Center has already become a very delightful activity, and I will be able to continue that for the near future. I really enjoy being a waitperson with my fellow seniors and actually can do it pretty well. Plus I get more than ten thousand steps just during that two-and-a-half-hour stretch. I'm usually pretty tired afterwards and it feels just great to have been part of a team. Hopefully I will end up being a real asset and not just a newbie to that team. They are delightful people who have accepted me as one of their own. I like that!

Well, this post didn't turn out to be as much of a downer as I feared it might. I now am looking forward to my Sunday breakfast with John, and experiencing yet another beautiful sunny day. I got my flu shot yesterday and my arm is hardly sore (Yay!). I was afraid I might have a bad reaction but no, it's nothing really. Much better than getting the flu, and if I do get it after all, it should be a mild case. Life is good, and the coming days should be pleasurable, with the right attitude and not too much news to bring me down. I hope you will be enjoying yourself, too, and finding ways to concentrate on the positive and not the negative. We do get to choose what we focus on, right?

And my dear partner still sleeps next to me as I write this, and my tea is long gone. The day beckons, and I find myself feeling much better than when I began. I do hope you will find a great week ahead, and I look forward to our next gathering here. Until then, be well, dear friends.

Fall is upon us

Steve in front of mums, eating a jalapeño bagel

Yesterday, I went on my usual Saturday walk with my friend Steve. While at the most distant spot on our walk, we stopped at the Haggen Grocery Store so I could use the bathroom and he could buy himself a tasty bagel. He likes spicy stuff and when I asked for a bite, he gave me one with some jalapeño on it, and it immediately cleared up my nose, like magic.

We walked just over six miles, and I began to feel myself tire around the five-mile mark, so instead of extending the walk, we headed back to the starting point. I have not yet recovered fully from the effects of covid, even though I had a booster just a week before getting sick. It took me a few days to get over it and feel better, but I didn't test negative for a day or two after that. My dear partner is still sick, having gotten it from me, and since he is immune compromised, he's still coughing but gradually, slowly, recovering. I feel a tiny bit guilty for having given it to him and then bounded back so quickly. However, my continued tiredness and low energy is expected, I guess. I am grateful to be in such good health that I can fight off the illness with little after-effects. Just the lack of boundless energy, but it's a little better every day.

On Monday, I will receive another eye jab, and I am not ashamed to say that I am NOT looking forward to it, but the fact that this treatment exists at all, and that I can get it mostly paid for by my Medicare Advantage Plan is a benefit that I hope will help me keep more of my sight from deteriorating. It's only expected to slow the progression of the geographic atrophy, not stop it completely. But the fact that I can still to this day sit here with my laptop and see to type is worth whatever I must endure. Every day when I wake, I am unsure whether I will be able to see well enough to write a post. One day, I will find that the central vision is gone from my left eye and although I will be able to make some adjustments to help me get something on this post, it won't be easy. Sometimes I cover up my left eye and see whether I could continue to write. The answer is complicated: yes, I could use the audio feature to write something here, but I couldn't go back and read it, rewrite parts of it (as I always do). I'll come to that one of these days, but for now I'm still functional with my good eye.

We all know that everything in life is temporary anyhow, right? I've been blessed with good health and work-arounds for many aspects of aging, especially if I am willing to take "good enough" and not pine for the days when I didn't even have to think of these shortcomings.

Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply. —Zane Grey

 The fact that I have outlived both of my parents and most of my immediate family makes me feel quite accomplished in some ways. I am the oldest of six siblings, and my dear sister PJ died more than a decade ago. We all have been taking statins for many decades to combat the hyperlipidemia that we inherited. I will be signing up for my annual wellness visit within the next few weeks and will see how my blood work lines up with past years. But before that happens, I need to get through the eye jab and the dentist. Sigh. As I sit  here in the dark, I realize how fortunate I am to have these options open to me, but it doesn't mean I enjoy them.

That said, I realize how lucky I am to live in the Pacific Northwest, with its moderate climate, and to have a warm rented home to live in within my means. There are so many people in the world who would see my life as incredibly fortunate. So I do my best to help others and give as much as I afford to charitable organizations. Right now most of my disposable income is going to political campaigns, but that will end soon and I can go back to Doctors Without Borders and St Jude Children's Hospital. 

I am reminded that I have a choice every day, when I begin my week, looking at my circumstances and realizing how much better my life is than so many others. At the coffee shop, I see homeless people everywhere, those who carry their few precious belongings around behind them in a cart. I see them on the bus, on street corners, and gathered together sometimes to create a makeshift community. They will struggle to stay warm during the upcoming cold weather. I wonder if they look at me, many decades older, and feel compassion for me, as I do for them.

This morning I am hopeful that my dear partner will be a bit closer to being healthy. He's been coughing so much I worry about him, but his body aches and tiredness are beginning to moderate. When I think back to the days of the pandemic, I never imagined that we would still be getting the virus and being vaccinated against it, these many years later.

I feel so much gratitude for the life I have been given, and I am happy to share the small little corner of my world with my life partner, as well as with all my virtual family that comes to visit me every day. I am also feeling blessed to have such wonderful activities available to me, such as the Senior Center and the hiking friends I have known all these years. And I can still walk on most of them, feeling just a little twinge that the hard hikes are no longer within my reach. There are plenty of other walks and hikes to enjoy, so I will.

My friend John will be by to take me to breakfast, our usual Sunday morning activity, and I will then come home to do some mundane tasks (like laundry) and go out into the sun and clouds as I walk my usual three miles, taking in the changing leaves and feeling the fallen ones swishing under my feet. And I also hope that you, my dear virtual friend, will have a wonderful and satisfying week ahead. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.

So pretty!

Made it through covid

Late summer rose in Cornwall Park

 Yesterday morning, for the first time in a week, I tested negative for covid. I was surprised at how sick I got, considering that I have never missed a covid vaccination or booster. I had received my last one exactly a week before I came down with it. However, the fact that even though it is only a week later and I'm done with it, I sure was sick. When I think back in my memory, four or five days ago I was so sick that I was unable to walk more than a few steps without becoming exhausted. And you know how much I have prided myself on not getting sick.

One of the worst parts, though, is that I got my dear partner sick with it. He first got covid four years ago, just after it emerged in early 2020, and he well remembers the painful sinuses and distressing cough. He's got both again, and he's as weak as a kitten, just the way I felt a week ago. When I woke this morning after a really good night's sleep, it was hard to remember that I could have been so sick. Now am so much better. Not all the way better, but enough to appreciate feeling good.

Nothing, however, focuses the mind better than being sick enough to think ahead to what the future most definitely holds: more illness, more downtimes, and less energy to carry me through my days. By the time my eighty-third birthday slips into my back pocket, I hope to be back to whatever fitness level I am able to attain at this period of time in my long life. And to be grateful for every single moment.

This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness. —Dalai Lama

 I just want to spend these final years enjoying the life the two of us have created here in the Pacific Northwest. My days of hard hikes in the mountains are over, but there are still so many places to walk around in and enjoy. There are still so many wonderful people working at the Senior Center, now the center of my activities. Of course the hikes I've enjoyed over the past decade and a half originated from there, but now I am exploring the rest of the many offerings they have. I am very blessed to have such a fine center available to me. If you're interested in what is offered, you can check out the monthly newsletter.

October starts on Tuesday, and it is now only a month away from Election Day. We here in Washington State vote entirely by mail, and we have about three weeks from when we receive our ballots until November 5, when they must be either mailed back or placed into drop boxes. When we lived in Colorado, we always voted at our local precinct, and we were some of the first people in line, up in the early hours before the sun came up. In all the years we lived there (over thirty), we never missed a chance to vote. At first, when we moved here, I missed that, but these days we spend quite a bit of time perusing the ballot and making our choices on the referenda and learning about our local politicians' different stances on the issues. It's so wonderful to be able to be part of it all, especially when I see what is happening in other parts of the world, where the citizens must obey whatever laws are passed without their input.

Our country may not be perfect, no place is, but it's one of the better places to have been born and lived our lives. Now that we are into our final years, I can think of no place on the planet that I would rather be. Well, except for Canada, and places within their provinces that seem to be well managed. I follow a dear friend from Prince Edward Island, and I so enjoy seeing their environment and sometimes wish I could live there. But I am really perfectly happy living here in Bellingham, Washington, with its wonderful activities for seniors, which I have become, while nobody was looking. I see other seniors around, but also young people and families that are just beginning to form. I sit on the bus sometimes with crowds of students on their way to classes, and they seem to be from another planet, from another time and place at least, from my own student days. 

John called me yesterday to see whether I would be up for breakfast this morning, and I said yes, I am now testing negative for covid, and I am also feeling good for the first time in a week. I guess that is one side effect of having received all those covid boosters, I wasn't sick for too long, and now, a mere week later, I feel pretty darn good. I am grateful for small favors, like being able to walk in the sunshine and enjoy the company of my good friends. Yesterday Steve met me at the coffee shop, and he was very solicitous and wanted to make sure I didn't try to do too much. We walked for just under three miles, slowly and deliberately, and then I drove home, after a quick stop at the grocery store for some supplies. I am grateful that I can still see well enough to drive, but I also am aware that it won't be for that much longer.

 Since I started receiving those eye jabs, my eyesight has not deteriorated any further, but I do know it's only temporary. I am grateful every morning I can see well enough to read and write here, and I suppose it's possible that my central vision on my left eye might continue, but I am not expecting it to. I now must use that little light on my phone to see many things that were once quite visible. My next eye jab is October 7th.

Don't think I am complaining, because I continue to be very grateful for everything I have. It's normal to lose ability as we age, and I am content to enjoy what I still can. And for now, life is continuing to be something to look forward to in every single day. I can still walk with a spring in my step, I can still look forward to my yoga classes, and I can also look forward to the volunteer activities at the Senior Center. And I have friends who love me, and whom I love also. What's keeping me from being happy? Nothing! I am feeling on top of the world right now, and I am also looking forward to seeing my friend John who will take me to another Sunday breakfast.

So, with that, my dear virtual family, I will wrap up this post and get on with the rest of my day. Until we meet again here, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

A wrench in my routine

Last Sunday's surprise

Well, now I can say that I have joined the huge number of people in the US who have had a doozy of a virus hit, and I am now in the process of getting over it. So that is the only thing on my mind today, Tuesday, and the reason I haven't joined the Happy Wanderers in their trip to Goose Rock. My adventure began on Saturday, when I woke feeling moderately good, but with a little bit of soreness as if I had worked out a bit too much. A scratchy throat wasn't much to worry about. Little did I know what was to come.

By the end of the day, I was barely able to stay awake until my usual early bedtime, so I went toddling off to bed. I didn't sleep well, and when I woke in the morning, I felt truly sick and figured I had picked up some sort of virus, not thinking about covid, since I had gotten my covid booster a week before. I think I probably got infected on Thursday when performing my volunteer duties during the lunch hour at the Senior Center. I was not wearing a mask, and I was exposed to numerous people over the course of three hours, as I went about helping to set up the tables, finding places for people to sit, and then getting them coffee or tea as they enjoyed their wonderful chicken pot pie lunch.

The timing of it all seemed to make Thursday the D-day for infection, but who knows for sure? On Saturday I went for a walk with my friend Steve, and felt only a little "under the weather." By Sunday morning, I called my friend John to cancel our breakfast plans, and I went back to bed. The main difficult symptoms was my sinuses, which felt like they were on fire. I had zero appetite, and the muscle aches by this time were coming on strong. As I lay in bed, I felt worse and worse as they day went on. I took my temperature and found it to be 100.7. (It eventually reached 101.) I also realized that I could barely hold myself upright and returned to my bed, not leaving it for the rest of the day and night, except to get up once to pee. I felt a little like I had been hit by a truck, as much as I hurt all over. I couldn't function at all, and the amazing thing was that I had zero appetite and could barely make myself drink, but I knew I had to. I had developed the covid cough, too.

I was so happy to have a sweet partner to take care of me, as much as he could anyway. I was really sick, not having experienced such misery since my last bout with the flu back in Colorado, years ago. He helped me take a covid test, with the result you can see above. The "test" line is really dark! After all the tests I have given myself before, now I know what a positive test result actually looks like. There was no doubt. I also ordered some more covid tests from Amazon.

Yesterday morning, Monday, I felt a little better after a night's unrestful sleep. I called the Senior Center to cancel my yoga class and let them know I have covid, so they can pass it along to the volunteer coordinator. And now, just a few days after the onset that was so painful, I am now well on the road to recovery. My temperature is down to normal, body aches almost gone, sinus still not quite right but much better. The weakness is not completely passed, but I can now make it to the bathroom without worrying if I might need help to get there. My appetite has returned, and I enjoyed a wonderful lunch that made me feel almost human again.

I still have a runny nose and bouts of sneezing, but that is all quite doable, and I would bet that by this tomorrow, I might feel like myself. I did get up today and did my Tibetan exercises (two days lost) and put on some actual clothes, not just my jammies. I've watched some TV and downloaded The Daily Show and The Colbert Report for some laughs. 

And now I can appreciate that an elderly old lady can actually recover fairly easily from covid, but I am convinced that all the shots and boosters I have received have helped to make this less severe. I have also developed a true compassion for all those people who did not make it through this awful disease, and I am truly grateful for all my friends and family who care what happens to me. I'm thinking that I will test myself again tomorrow to see what the results might be. It will be five days since the onset of symptoms, so maybe it won't be too long before I can venture out in the world again.

:-)

September songs

Taken by Rita Eberle-Wessner

Looking for just the right picture to start off my post, I checked out a favorite Flickr artist, Rita Eberle-Wessner. She took this one earlier this month, and I was simply mesmerized by its loveliness and downloaded it onto my Mac and then made it my display picture. It brings me peace just to look at it. I hope it does the same for you.

September has long been a hard month for me. My son Stephen died on September 17th, sixty years ago now. I am sometimes amazed that I am still here, still kicking up my heels at my advanced age, while so many I know and loved have been gone for what seems like forever.

I don't have any memories of my sweet baby any longer. I read somewhere that every time you access a memory, it changes, and after awhile it bears little resemblance to the original moment. I can believe that, but just picking up an infant and holding him for a minute seems to bring back some ancient recollections from my distant past. I know that my sister Norma Jean and I both experienced much of the same memories from our childhood, but now they have diverged so much that they feel like different events. I think I'll just let my memories rest and gather starlight.

Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf. —Rabindranath Tagore

'f'I woke this morning feeling "under the weather," as it refers to feeling sick. I have a little temperature (99°F) and my sinuses are burning, my energy is nonexistent, but I am not sneezing like I have a cold. I did get my new covid booster a week ago, felt pretty good until I went to bed last night. I think I'll stay home this morning instead of going out to breakfast with John. No need to expose anybody else to whatever I've come down with. I hope it's not the flu, since I haven't yet gotten my annual vaccination. Who knows? I guess I'll know soon enough. 

This morning I intended to recall some old memories of having been a mother, moments that still live in my heart. When I gave birth to my son Chris, I was barely nineteen and his father was twenty. We were such innocents! Chris is now gone, having died at forty of heart disease, and his brother Stephen was felled by spinal meningitis at the age of thirteen months. Chris was happily married, and his widow still texts me now and then. I don't usually respond, since it's still painful to recall those awful days. Grief never really completely leaves people; it just morphs into something less hurtful after many years have passed. Almost everybody my age has lost parents and sometimes other family members as well, but that is just what being mortal is all about. We will all one day lie down in our beds and will not get up again. Do you believe in the afterlife? I think I do, but I'm not completely sure it makes any sense. Probably it's nothing like we imagine, but I do believe that something of who we are continues. I know that there are nights when my loved ones visit me in my dreams, and they are as real to me as they ever were. Memory is a curious thing, all right. I think I'll just do as Tagore suggests, and dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.

Interestingly, as I sit here pondering my post, I'm beginning to feel a little better. Nothing quite normal, but I do think that maybe I'll be able to start my day with my Tibetan exercises and sit in meditation, which are both constant companions when I arise out of bed, every morning for decades now. I'm such a creature of habit, but I don't know if it's such a good idea when feeling so under the weather. That usually means I am feeling a bit ill, unwell, poorly, or sick. My throat is slightly sore, nothing too bad, but I suspect that when I try to speak this morning, it will be with a croaky voice.

But into every life some rain must fall, and getting a littile sick is nothing too terrible, but it makes it hard to write about anything else, It's what my life is right now, although I have a sunny day ahead of me. Should I get out of bed and join the living? It's not easy to think of much else, so I think perhaps I'll stop here and spend some time gazing at that photo. Sorry I'm not my usual self today, but I can't pretend to be feeling perky. Nope. I'll be back next week, hopefully with  a smile and a better attitude.

(P.S. It's Covid all right.)