As we age our lives tend to fall into patterns, daily, weekly, or sporadic. That goes on for much of our life until the aging process starts to take it’s toll and our established patterns no longer work as well as they once did and we find ourselves forced to adapt because of our body’s unwillingness to do it’s job properly.
walking gingerly
I’m realizing that both of us, Peggy and myself have been doing this thing I can only describe as “counter adaptation.” All our lives certain workarounds have been successful for overcoming various physical and mental challenges — but lately they either don’t work, or aren’t as successful as once they were. So we are effectively coming right up to the place where the adaptation would normally have gotten us out of trouble and now we are doing something NEW to make sure the adaptation either still works — which means we are really doing something brand new without realizing it, or we are choosing to avoid the activity all together and we find a different route to our end point.
These counter adaptations relate to memory, to getting around, to climbing stairs (which has become a bigger issue for the last three weeks), to various chores around the house. I see both of us doing it and while I accept it as a side effect of aging — yet it makes me angry that my (our) bodies aren’t as agile, strong, reliable as once they were. We think more about accident proofing the house. Neither of us has had a problem with falling so far, but that doesn’t mean we step bolding into things (like bathtubs) as we used to. Or that we step into places without a handhold.
Memory too has been affected and I know it’s bother Peg more than myself, as she has been having more problems with her memory than I have — thus far. All her life she’s been worried about her memory — not that anyone in her family ever went through the Slow Goodbye (Alzheimer’s disease) — but for whatever reason it’s always been on her mind. We both are doing more to keep our memories triggered and as responsive as we are able.
No one knows what their end will be: long, short, painful, peaceful. One tries not to think about such things, but the closer we get to our final destination it’s inevitable that thoughts will sometimes arise and can be unsettling. It’s good to have someone to confide in, to share with, and even to ask for that word we can’t find at the moment, or the name of that place we visited just this morning. It’s what it is. We can’t change it, we can only live with it and do our best to get along.
I hope you’re doing well, yourself. It’s been nice chatting today, and I look forward to our talk tomorrow. Cheers.
There are a lot of things I am having a hard time getting accustomed to about aging. Time is one of them. It increasingly feels as if the fabric of time and energy have been altered.
I have always had a loose relationship with time, but that has almost always been in connection with current and future time. Now it seems as if I have a looser relationship with current and past time. Little things like which day of the week it is have in my younger days always been based on knowing what two or several days in advance were going to be. I was focussed on the future. Now it seems as if I don’t remember what day it is today because prior days seem irrelevant.
Along with the passage of time is the relative time that things are going to take. For the life of me I can’t get it through my brain that things I once would accomplish in half an hour might today take me 90 minutes if I could do them all in one go; but the sad truth is that when it comes to physical exertion there are more and more activities that have to be undertaken in segments interspersed with brief rest periods — or periods when I just am not interested in doing whatever task it might be.
Our house move is fast approaching — a little under two weeks now. In my brain I keep setting goals for what sort of packing I think will be completed by such and such a time — and I keep missing my deadline. It hasn’t just been in connection with moving — this has been going on for a good long time now — but I seem unable to readjust my brain in such a way that I suss out how much longer things are taking and get that new frame of reference sorted in my mental filing system.
I suppose the reality is that what I seek is a moving target. Not the same from day to day. Just as sleep and energy are not the same from day to day. And I find that weather affects me more than once it did. I used to trudge along without a care for circumstances; now I’m willing to say, oh the heck with it — let’s do this tomorrow.
All of this is common to many aging warriors like myself. I know I’m nothing special; except that I’m willing to talk about it, to say to others, hey, this is reality and it’s nothing to be suprised about, nothing to be feared because you aren’t alone, nothing to feel insufficient about: it’s aging, getting older, and a great many people aren’t privileged to see my age so I ought to just shut up and suffer through it all. But that’s the point. I’m not suffering. Life is good. Each and every day. I get a lot of stuff done; I have a good time doing it; pretty much anything or everything I want to do — it’s just that it’s taking longer and I haven’t any idea just how much longer “longer” is going to be.
Let me know if you are going through similar. We gotta stick together us dinosaurs. Cheers and I’ll talk with you tomorrow.
Peg and I have been quietly waiting and wading through a legal mumble jumble. After 4 years it has finally ended. I won’t go into the details but a car and minor injuries featured prominently.
For a guy who stays as far away from anything legalese as possible the past 4 years have been a nightmare. My insurance company and their lawyer did their job but A lot of earlier-in-life disappointments with the perftof others has left me skiddish and a bit untrusting. Well, maybe a LOT untrusting. Balancing a full life whilst quietly burying my personal angst as challenged me. I’m sure that is partly what has kept me silent on the blogging scene. We deposed well over a year ago and in the meantime bupkiss has transpired.
But it’s settled and we’re no worse for wear. It’s funny though how just hearing the good news messed up my head and stomach. I didn’t expect such a physical reaction.
Dealing with uncertainty in advancing age is significantly different— it seems to me. Thought processes are slowed down. Ideas get a little muddled; and sharing things back and forth between TWO oldsters exacerbates the opportunity for confusion.
And there is also the issue of assets. When you’re working and bringing in a paycheck the possibility of financial liability is balanced by incoming cash, in retirement one is more aware of financial limits and and potential liability can scare the bejeezus out of you.
But, it’s done. In a few days it’ll be all a memory. I hope. But then that’s a part of aging too: sometimes your brain doesn’t want to let go, and you find yourself hashing and rehashing something beyond a time when any difference can be made.
I borrowed this title from another blog I chanced upon today. You may be interested in it.
We all face aging in our own way. There’s no right way or wrong way. But what happens the “aging” is complicated by a Alzheimer’s or dementia diagnosis? Then again there are other cir in which memory is altered or clouded, for example as a result of a brain injury. Something it’s not just the ‘remembering’ that we miss/lose — sometimes it’s also how we feel about things/people.
The blog I referenced above dealt with how dementia has affected her tasting of food as well as her desire for it, or for variety, or even for any kind of change.
There are so many things we have zero control over. The other day when Peggy was getting her LINQ implant the procedure actually went quite well but in keeping with her normal inability to handle stress she came out of the procedure with really high blood-reassure.
I was struck and humbled by the way several people all gathered around her bedside all starring at the BP monitor. For a few moments there was that reminder of just how small we are in this great big universe. For a moment she wasn’t my dear wife, complete with likes and dislikes, loves and hates. For just a moment she was just a frail old woman on a hospital bed with a bunch of people making sure she continued living.
It’s great to go through life doing and making and loving and smiling. But we dare not ever forget that we are but a speck of dust in an infinite universe. We do well to remember our place.
All is fine since then. No one need worry. But a little meditation on the things out of our control is worth the effort.
When you remember a thing, it’s not the thing you are remembering, but rather the last time you remembered the thing. So it is said are the workings of memory. Memory is not as accurate as you’d like to believe and with each remembering there is greater chance for error and change.
I’ve been looking at routes and travel ideas and I wonder, sometimes, whether other people have the same experience I have. Things keep changing on you! In the world, assuredly. In my memories… well, let’s look at that. Perception is everything.
“Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.” – Benjamin Disraeli
Memory truly is a miracle. How we are able to dial back into our stored experience and pull out details from days and years and even decades ago is something to marvel at. But as our justice system is coming to realize witnesses don’t all remember the same details, or even the correct details, and suggestion has the power to change what we ‘remember.’ I think Disraeli was right.
I’m sure most couples go through this; this see more than you remember and remember more than you see situation. Who hasn’t talked with a spouse about an event they both attended and suddenly found themselves asking with whom your spouse had attended that event because they sure weren’t remembering anything that YOU recall! Peg and I do it frequently. In fact we have known we do it for so long that taking advantage of the different things we each remember has become a PLUS for many situations.
The fact, for example, that she remembers the names of men better than I, and I remember the names of women better than she has enabled us to actually get the names of couples correct on many an occasion. Knowing the strengths and weaknesses of your partner is a good thing. Even though my generalized memory may be better than Peggy’s — there are still many times that I’d be lost without her unique memories of things I quickly forget (including, sometimes, things I, personally, have said….)
A few years ago I had the mileages across most states on different Interstates memorized. I did that much driving! Today, I’m lucky if I can get it right within 50 or a 100 miles. I am still pretty good with names; but I find that I don’t always put them in the right context — so that Aurora IL and Aurora CO begin to look more similar than they should. I still tend to remember places by … get this … the things I ate there. But if I stay too long in a place that memory tool doesn’t work. And staying too long in places is the nature of being an RV’er. One or two meals are memorable — 15 or 20, not so much.
In trip planning I find my greatest memory frustrations. For example, this up coming trip South…
I have sort of been wanting to run through KS and OK to check them off our list of States West of the Mississippi that we have RV’d in. Those two and AZ are the only blanks on our map. However, earlier in life I have had very little contact with Kansas and I draw a blank knowing what I want to DO while we were in Kansas. I suppose I could honestly say that I don’t really want to DO anything — I just want to pass through it. I have a hard time admitting that though…. I guess that in spite of my friends Paul and Mildred Archer from Ottawa and Pat Johnson who lives near Manhattan and a trip in the truck to Wichita Falls I don’t have any memories of Kansas at all and I’m not itching to make any — at least not this time of year.
Our delayed departure has put wrinkles in our plans that aren’t being helped by my memory quirks. Not only have many campgrounds turned off their water in advance of freezing temperatures; many of them have closed for the season altogether. In Iowa all the Corps parks closed at the end of September. We aren’t opposed to spending the odd night with Uncle Wally when needed but don’t like to make it a habit. It’s not all that much fun.
I can visualize pretty much all of the route from Milwaukee to the Kansas border, and pretty much all of the route from Santa Rosa NM to Bosque NM — I KNOW those roads. More precisely, I used to know those roads and that’s the kicker. Things change. Both one’s memories of what used to be, as well as the reality of what is there now.
I never trusted remembering places by street names. Every little town in America has a Washington street! Instead I learned to remember places by landmarks — often buildings. But you know, that doesn’t work too well in a country that hates old things, and tears down buildings, and remakes itself every few years. I’m finding that the things I remember have been torn down and replaced by something that not only doesn’t LOOK the same, but the things that DO look the same have often appeared to have moved because roads have been re-routed and moved to make room for roundabouts and added lanes. And the more populous an area, the more changes.
I’m still hoping to head Southwest in a couple weeks and run through Kansas on our way to Bosque. That’s still the idea — lets not even call it a plan. As we’re are traveling, I wonder what will pop into my brain and pass itself off as a memory?
Like many of my contemporaries, I grew up in an environment that thought very differently about longevity. As we travel around the country — or just take a day trip as we did on Friday — I see a lot of new-ish churches.
metal building church
They look rather like office buildings, these new metal-building churches and they present a huge change in society. “In my day” people still thought about building things to last. It wasn’t the medieval view of building for forever where it took centuries to complete a stone masonry built church — but they were brick and mortar and built to last a couple hundred years, if not 1,000 years. And, because they did last I could reliably use them for landmarks — as churches. But today a lot of those old churches are no longer churches — they have been repurposed. Thank God. At least they haven’t been torn down!
I have been thinking about how technology growth has already changed us as a society and how it is continuing to change us. NO ONE is thinking about building anything to last 1,000 years anymore. I’m not sure very many people are thinking about the next 100 years — even though as a nation that is the kind of duration we ought to be thinking about. Our 2 year election cycle and our 4 year presidential cycle pretty much force us to remake the world we live in every 2-8 years. And that is a longterm view. The life cycle on a smart phone is much shorter!
I suppose that people in the future won’t look to landmarks when going from place to place. Even though I have my GPS I still find myself trying to remember where I have been and how to get there. There really aren’t many places I haven’t been — except of course for Kansas. We have become dependent upon our technology go get along; to live; to function. I can’t help but wonder how safe a course that is in the long term — but there I go again, thinking in archaic terms. Long Term. Is there even such a thing anymore.
I’m looking forward to the trip South. I’m sure we’ll find some RV parks to camp at so we can avoid Uncle Wally. And maybe I’ll really remember something from one of those few trips I’ve made into Kansas. I’m positive that we won’t be spending our usual amount of time making the trip. Kansas would be a lot more appealing in the Spring or earlier in the Fall. But we always have fun with our travels and we will this trip too!
Thanks for stopping, and I’ll talk with you tomorrow.
“I am getting older and reflecting on the past more than once I did. So many people today look back on things like Hwy 66, or old cars with nostalgia. And I wonder when she is older, what will my daughter and grand daughter look upon with nostalgic memory?”
– Peter Pazucha
This morning my email informed me that our new LED lightbulbs shipped yesterday. Today, I’m eagerly waiting for the temperature outside to rise a few more degrees before I go to the storage yard and bring Journeyover to the school so that I can plug her in and do some more maintenance chores. I have enough on my plate for now. And I’m still looking forward.
But…
When I was doing my morning blog reading I came across this 1925 picture of New York laundry lines I got to thinking about how the nature of nostalgia changes over time. I can remember people hanging wet laundry from clothes lines. My mom did it. (not from apartment windows, but from lines between posts in the back yard) That was hard work, yet there is a certain nostalgia for me — a memory of a simpler time, and I have come to realize that at this point in life simpler is a desirable thing. Complicated is, well…. just complicated.
But, the point is that anything can become a nostalgic memory — depending on when you lived.
I’m more from a generation for whom The Beach Boys have become nostalgic memories than Route 66. Oh, I can remember things like wringer washers — and we used one for the first two years of our marriage — they aren’t the things we remember with nostalgia, as of a better time. The Beach Boys however are quite a different story. When I was trucking I spent an entire Labor Day Weekend listening to 72 hours of Beach Boys radio while waiting for the grocery store to open where I was supposed to deliver new freezer cases for their remodel. It was a mellow weekend for sure. I’m not sure I’d want to relive the experience — and there should be a sense of longing to return for those things nostalgic. So I’m not sure how many memories I have that are actually nostalgia.
I was over at Notes to Ponder reading about recollections and it struck me not only how your place in time determines what you look back on with fondness or nostalgia, but also how our individual differences further alter those memories. Some of us recall snippets, others entire scenarios. For some aromas are like blaring trumpets alerting us to memories. Other people need visual triggers, or auditory triggers. Just how our individual differences may play in determining whatwe look back on with nostalgia is something I don’t think has ever been studied.
(Or maybe I don’t read enough)
But the fact of the matter is that what we remember never actually happened. Surely, some of it happened, but from the moment an event has passed our brains begin modifying our memory according to algorithms no computer programmer would ever claim as their own. The same hunting trip could be equally nostalgic or horrific depending upon how one viewed the taking of life. A train trip could be remembered with joy or nostalgic fondness depending on whether one was en route to a funeral, or met the love of their life; yet it might be the trip by train that triggers our memory.
Recently when talking with our daughter I heard little bits of history a la Kathryn and realized that her memories of family events are very different than my own. Not wrong. Just different. I like that. After all, memory is not about objective history. Memory is about personality, about character. In a way, memory is about the soul; about what is intrinsically different in us all, the intangible, undefinable, something that makes us who we are.
I hope to be around long enough to hear some of the things my daughter will look upon with nostalgia. What it will be that she might like to return to. And perhaps I’ll hear some from my Grand Daughter too. I’m not sure just when memory transitions from history to nostalgia about better or more desirable times. It surely does. I’ve never known anyone who didn’t have a few of those times they’d like to return to.
There’s a reason I try not to hang out with Senior Citizens. It’s all about the Double Edged Sword of Memory. Don’t get me wrong. I am not prejudiced against seniors. Some of the most amazing people in my life have been older than me; many in their 80’s, 90’s and 100’s. Besides, I can legitimately say I’m a senior too. But all my life I have tried to stay as young-of-mind-and-attitude as I am able.
I enjoy the companionship of younger people — from kids on up to to adults. For one good reason — they have no time for the past. The welcome life, they welcome change, they have little memory of things gone by — mostly because not many things have yet passed them by. 🙂
Memory is a great blessing that we consider normal. The chance to recall our own history in great detail assures us at times, comforts us as times, and supports our daily activities. Memory is so important to us that those who lose their memory are considered disabled. Who would like to learn how to tie their shoes each time they do the act? Or would want to forget the name of their children overnight? All that is good stuff. But there’s also the otheredge of memory as well…..
Wednesday we went out for breakfast in Elkhart. When we arrived there were about 25 patrons in the restaurant — all men, all gathered in small groups around a few tables, all drinking coffee and talking over past times. For a moment we wondered if Peggy would be weclome, but she was. It was just a good day for guys, I guess. A couple of the tables were near enough, and the patrons talking loud enough that we could not help but hear more of their conversations than we cared to hear. Why more? Because too much of their time was being spent complaining. And not just general complaints. Most of the complaints were about things that had changed. I hate complainers. How about you?
On fella was upset that his insurance company had raised his rates. And that, according to him because they were holding his “claims” against him. But get this… the “claims” he felt they were using as an excuse to raise his rate was a single claim over 38 years ago that they never even paid because it was a broken windshield. It never dawned on him that prices on everything go up. It never dawned on him that companies don’t have to raise rates just because an insured has filed a claim — sometimes they just raise rates. That was just one example but it brought to mind a very real situation. I’ve known people in my life who don’t know how to live if they can’t complain, but I have to say that as I age I find more of those kind of people around me no matter what I do to avoid them.
Young people don’t spend much looking back on things because they haven’t many things to look back UPON.
But consider the person my age — a very young 64. I have lived three of my granddaughter’s lives. I’m sure there are times when I talk about something that “used to be” and she has no idea why I’m saying what I am. She can embrace change easily. She’ll be 21 this September, so allowing for those ages when children don’t have values or opinions to speak of, no value that she has is older than 15 or 16 yrs. Her values and habits are there — but they haven’t been rehearsed over and over again for 30, or 45 or 60 years. Anything you still have after all that time must be important to a person! I have had a lot longer time to get accustomed to the things I value; they have been values or habits or practices or opinions for several times longer than she’s even been alive. No wonder she doesn’t always understand why I think it’s so important. (Don’t bet me wrong — she’s a great kid and very understanding — but some things you simply can’t expect from someone that age)
What of my ideas when I reach 80 or 90, should I be so fortunate? This is the part that I never thought much about until today. Not only have seniors held ideas and beliefs for longer and longer times as they age, those ideas that they might not be in a hurry to see change, they also experience more and more change as they get older. There are more and more changes to complain about; to get used to; more old things to be gotten rid of and exchanged for something you or I never wanted in the first place. It’s a swirling maelstrom into which all of an older person’s desire to remain optimistic can get sucked into, disappearing into the black hole of seniority.
It’s a two edged sword
It really is a double sided dilemma. It cuts both ways.
In many cases you’ve lived longer than those who are making change in the world, but your opinion is of little or no value. You try to embrace change but sometimes there’s no way to accept the new without casting away ideas, concepts, or practices that have been proven by years, or even decades of experience. You know they work. WHY should you change? Just because someone else wants you to change? You know this company by the name they’ve had for 20, or 40 years — WHY did they have to change their name? You’ve had the same doctor for 30 or 40 years — WHY did that doctor have to retire?
All that is bad enough. But add to frustration caused by ANY change the fact that the rate of change is increasing and I can see why some old geezers find it hard not to complain.
Of course in this world where too often old people are put on the cold-shoulders of society, where they disappear into retirement homes and senior centers they don’t have the advantage of flexible young people around them to encourage senior flexibility. Old people left to mingle among old people feed on each other and the lot of them get more and more grumpy and filled with complaints.
Keep Looking for Young Friends
I’m going to double my efforts to avoid Old Codgers. I’m going to look harder for younger friends and associates. One nice thing about camping in public parks — (local, state, and federal) — is that camping families often include kids, young couples, and cross-generational groups. And campers are friendly. Campers are friendly almost to a fault. RV’ers are friendly too, but too many are up there in that age bracket where it’s easier to complain than to find reasons for optimistic joy. They exist. I’ve met some. But they areharder to find.
I refuse to be sucked into the maelstrom of complaint. We have yet to discover where we will actually spend our mobility years, and how long we may stay in any one place but my addiction to positivity will assure that no matter where we go I will be looking for people with smiles on their faces and an optimistic outlook on life.
Now that I’ve thought about this a bit I have a better touchstone upon which to check my own actions and my words. I’m sure I won’t always be self-aware. But now I know better what to look for and my chance of keeping that young attitude is higher.
From the Far Side of '70 
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