Caustic Barbs

I have a reader who dislikes me intensely. I would have thought my last post would not have offended anyone. I didn't write it so I don't take credit for it. I feel though it is a very positive outlook on life and an encouraging one for anyone who fears old age may be the down time. of life. It is not.

Those of us who are fortunate to have achieved elder status know the trials and tribulations of life better than the generation behind us. We know something of our grandparents experiences, our parents, our friends and our childrens and their friends and now our grown-up grandchildren. We have numerous comparators to judge that we can be grateful for our lot.

My critical and unknown correspondent is intent on proving that I am a worthless human being. She claims I am small-minded and mean to the unfortunate voters who elected me. She does not identify herself however, nor does she cite a particular example of my perfidy.

Given the sparseness of evidence, it is difficult to understand just what my anonymous correspondent wants from me. Probably nothing. So, why I wonder, does she persist in reading what I write. It seems to me a waste of her time and not conducive to peace of mind.

Lazy Bones Lying in the Sun

The title tells all. It has been a glorious summer. My grandchildren and their friends have enjoyed the pool in my backyard more than ever before. I am not the lifeguard but I tend to be on the deck watching them all the time all the same. Then there is the time I spend in the pool myself by myself. I like that.

I am not a great multi-tasker. If I am writing, I need to do that and only that. The time whizzes by and before I know it I have spent the better part of a day sitting at the computer. I don't want to spend the summer days doing that, I want to watch my grandchildren in the pool.

So that is what I have been doing.

Yesterday, someone sent me the following piece . It is so close to my personal philosoophy I
could have written it myself. It is too great to keep to myself. It should be shared.

My Reaction to My Age

Author unknown

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting whatcould have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it!)