7 Things I Want to Say to the Old

I first wrote this as a poem, but it better suits as one of those blog list things – you know – where unsolicited advice is given to others whether one is in a position to know or not . . . so here goes – my own personal list to those older than I – some advice from someone, who, as she approaches 60 in the not-so-distant future, finds it more than amusing that she would think on ‘the old’ as someone other than herself –

[SIDE NOTE:  The old tell me quite a lot – we spend much time together and they have much to offer – but – isn’t there always? – there are a few things I’d like to pay forward – some wisdom of the one younger watching the panorama unfold before you as you clear the path for me –]

1. There is thank you, of course, but there is also – listen to us – the ones who come not before, but after, for we have things to teach as well – letting go gracefully isn’t a one-way street, you know – don’t be mad at us because you’re old and we’re not yet:  learn something new today . . .

2. Don’t complain about us – the ones younger than you – jealousy is not fashion-forward.

3. If more than 5 minutes of your day are devoted to a review of health, try reading a good book – it’ll give you something else to talk about.

4. Don’t use your age as license to say whatever you want no matter how unkind – it’s always wrong to be unkind.

5. I don’t comment negatively about your hair-style – so please don’t criticize mine (goes for piercings, tattoos, and clothing too).

6. Smile more – the pain is real and present, but somehow when you find something else to  think about its presence fades.

7. Love us, notice us, include us, like you want us to love, notice and include you.

Okay, it’s your turn.  What’s your advice for those coming after?

It's Time to Tell Me Happy Birthday

Remember turning 6?

Remember waking up with a smile?

Remember summer days when you could roll back over and go back to sleep?

Remember drawing pictures just for fun?  And giving them to your mom or dad with the delighted proclamation: I made this for you!

Remember how glad you were to go visit your Gran?  And how very glad you were to get home?

It’s summer time and the boyo turned 6 and awoke with a smile and went back to sleep and got up calling my name to remind me it was time to say happy birthday to him.

And it is a good day.

And I remember and smile back over my shoulder at the generations all smiling behind me.

And yes, it is a very good day.

Too many deaths

        My son Ben received his Masters in Library Science on Sunday.  I am, needless to say, a proud Mom.

        Amidst all the buzz, there's a moment . . . he's standing in the doorway, posing for a picture.  Grandmother is outside, taking the shot.  I stand behind him, off to the side, watching this young man I know so well and not at all.  And I realize what I've always known . . . there will be a time when he will live and I will not . . . when I will not be in the snapshot.  And that is as it should be.  And that moment began today.

        Later, Ben is walking ahead, Mom is behind and I'm in the middle, bridging the generations, wanting to hurry ahead with the younger but waiting instead for the older, knowing that Benjamin slows down for me as I slow down for Mom,.  Never quite matching each other's steps, we walk single file along the sidewalk, one before the other - how is it that the one who came after walks before?

        A mother's son died today.  Joy's boy, a man, reallly, 61 years old is definitely a man, but still her boy -- a heart attack, it seems.  There has been much too much dying in our little town lately.  But as long as there is living, there is dying, old life making way for new.  And somewhere, a baby was born as a man took his last breath.  I don't know if there's hope in that, but somehow, there is comfort.