A Senior Moment

  "Would you like to use your discount today?" asked the young lad behind the drugstore counter.

I gazed at him blankly.

What discount? I thought.

Was there a special on today that I didn't know about?

Had I somehow missed a promotional sign in the store?

Was I having a senior moment?

A bout of sometimer's disease?

And then the penny dropped.

I should say the two quarters and a nickel.

The 55 Special.

Oh, yes.

The SENIOR discount.

I laughed and asked if it was that obvious.

He said not to worry, I looked fabulous!

How's that for back treading!

And what the heck.

Those senior discounts add up.

They are one small compensation for the generally unpleasant experience of getting older.

And many of those discounts start at the ripe old age of 60.

For example, if I stop in at a certain chicken restaurant on a Monday, I can get a senior discount; on Wednesday's it's the hardware store; and the last Thursday of every month it's Seniors Day at my favourite pet food store.

When I turned 60, I attained deep discounts at many recreation programs.

And that is also the age that the Canadian Pension Plan offered me back some of the money that I have put in over the course of my working life, should I choose to take it.

By the time I hit 65, well, the discounts will know no bounds.

Travel companies and cruise lines will welcome me with open arms, and drastic deals.

Even more restaurants will offer me senior specials, although I will undoubtedly have to eat during the late afternoon.

And the government also helps to cover prescription costs and some medical treatments like vaccinations.

Perhaps it is part of a sympathy ploy by society.

An appeasement of sorts offered to help with the suffering.

To make bearable the knowledge we are nearly at the ends of our proverbial ropes.

And to also help with the "fixed income" that comes with the twilight years.

I looked at the young fellow at the drugstore counter where he had checked out my items.

I thought of telling him I am not yet eligible.

But then my thriftiness got the better of me.

I said sure, please use my discount.

And, as a reward for putting my ego and pride aside, I saved 20 dollars!

Ha!

A senior moment, indeed.

A moment that would make any millennial green with envy.

Life Lessons From An Old Cat

 Princess, the little black barn cat, is now 20 years old.

That is the equivalent of about 96 in human years.

She is now considered to be a "super-senior" cat.

And she is beginning to show her age.

I still remember hearing her little "meow" up in the hay loft when I first discovered her as a kitten.

She would follow me around the barn as I did my chores.

One cold winter's day I decided to bring her home, not knowing she was pregnant by then.  She was nine months old.  

A single mom who gave birth to five babies.  

I kept two of them.

She has now survived both her sons who passed away when they were 15, within months of each other.

And now, in her golden years, she is happy to share some life lessons.

1. SPEAK UP AND BE GENEROUS

She most certainly is deaf, not hearing her name anymore or anything else except vibrations sometimes, like the garage door opening, or heavy footsteps.

And because she is deaf, she meows at the top of her lungs - to make sure everyone can hear her - because she no longer can hear herself.

This is especially entertaining as she insists, in her very generous way, on bringing us little presents around the dinner hour, of little furry toy balls that are her way of gifting us in return for some treats at the dinner table.  

And as she brings those fuzzy toy balls, she meows at the top of her lungs to announce her arrival and her gift.

She is so loud that we often have to pause and mute the television show we are watching until she drops her present, and finishes that deposit with a tiny "meow?"

It is so cute it melts our hearts.

And it is that generosity that brings her (and us) so much joy.

She literally trots over with those little gifts, so happy to give them to us as if she is bestowing upon us the crown jewels.

Generosity, I think, is one of the secrets of her long life; she is so happy to give, and, as they say, it is better to give than to receive, although she does receive so much by giving as well.  That life lesson translates to us humans too.

2. FIND TIME TO DAYDREAM AND TAKE YOUR VITAMIN D

Sometimes these days I will find her staring almost wistfully out a window, at a wall, or at nothing in particular.

Is she recalling her youth I wonder?  Reminiscing?

Feeling nostalgic about her long life?

Ruminating on what could have been, would have been?

Allowing herself time to daydream is another life lesson she shares with us.

We should all be so fortunate as to find a few minutes or more each day to meditate, stare thoughtfully out the window, or off into space, just thinking, daydreaming, whatever makes our souls happy.

Princess most certainly remembers what time the sunbeams stream through each window; the back door in the morning, and the front room in the afternoon.

The life lesson of seeking out life's pleasures, if not at the cost of another, is something else she shares with us.  

Nowadays, when napping in that sunbeam, she is deep in sleep; it is lights out, and don't wake her unless it's an emergency!  Clearly absorbing all that Vitamin D is key to her longevity and happy life.  I too have started taking Vitamin D in tablet form with my morning coffee and must say I feel very much better for it.

3. SET BOUNDARIES AND DON'T TAKE ANY CRAP

Despite her size, which is extremely petite, almost kitten-like, she packs a punch when it comes to boundaries and her will.

Setting boundaries and not settling are two very important life lessons Princess shares with us; and most certainly have contributed to her long and happy life.

She still has enough moxy to swat at her housemate, the 17-year-old barn cat Chester, when he is in HER spot on the ledge in the front room window, lying in HER sunbeam.

He makes way for her, easing his old body up with surprising speed, and drops down to the floor to find another sunbeam.

We could all learn to do the same; and should do so as well for our own sake.

4. TAKE TIME TO PLAY AND EXERCISE

Princess remains ever the busy body; always curious, always up for a short playtime.

Her latest favourite game is batting small balls made of scrunchy foil paper down the stairs.

I toss them up to her from a lower step on the staircase, and she bats it with precision each and every time.

She could give the Toronto Blue Jays some pointers and tips!

Playtime, however short, is another life lesson Princess stresses is of utmost importance.

Just playing for the sake of playing, for no ulterior motive, no outcome of any importance, just pure and simple playtime; guilt free, for the sheer endorphin and dopamine rush.

She has some arthritis in her back legs, the vet tells me.

But she beats me up the stairs every time, racing past me.

  Something that amazes me every time she does it.

Despite her aches and pains and being deaf, she doesn't let any of those physical shortcomings hold her back from living her life to the fullest.

An important life lesson, perhaps the most important one from Princess.

Yes, we all have our aches and pains and diseases and problems and shortcomings and heck, even emotional scars too.

But if we think like Princess, and have a little fun along the way, I believe it will go a long way towards being happier and healthier.

5. HAVE A ROUTINE

She loves her routine, as do I, and I do believe routine, a.k.a. ritual, is one of the life elixirs that we all should embrace.

Our routine in the morning, after I put out the food and start cleaning the litter boxes, is that she accompanies me to the kitchen where I have put out her wet treat in a small bowl.

She always knows where it is, what it is, and seems to look forward to it heartily.

Sometimes I have to encourage her to come with me, as I am sure she is content to sit still where she is at that time, but when she gets moving, and walks down the hall with me, she knows of the reward ahead.

She depends on that little ritual; looks forward to it, expects it.

And I think that is a good life lesson for us as well; we should look forward to and embrace our routines and try to think of them as a ritual that we are privileged to do.  

We should look forward to the mundanity of daily chores or tasks, as if it is an honour to perform them day in and day out.

Reframing our thinking so that they become not something that is tedious but a pleasure is a good lesson from Princess.

6. STAY CURIOUS

She is extremely curious, and although they say curiosity killed the cat, for Princess, it is a life enhancer, as she is nosy and a busy body and seems to thrive on that.

Even now, she never sits still in one place for a very long time, always needing to see what's what and who's where.

Although her age predisposes her to sleeping and daydreaming a lot more these days, it is never for such a long time that she is not attune to the phases and the rhythms of the day and exploring and seeing what's going on here and there and around and about.

A good life lesson for us all; stay curious, always learning, always seeking knowledge.

7. EAT WELL AND STAY  HYDRATED

Princess has such a good appetite, even at her age, that she puts me to shame.

She is always up for a taste test of whatever is being had at the dinner table; pasta, potatoes, sour cream, meat, fish, eggs, cheese, you name it.

We have a joke that something has "passed the Princess taste test!" if she enjoys it and has more than a bite or two.

And as appetite is an extremely important indicator of well being, I am grateful that she still as her desire to eat and try new things and different things.

Her curiosity extends to food; and that, too, is a good life lesson for us all.

*****

And so, as I see it, those are some life lessons for all of us humans, courtesy of a super-senior barn cat named Princess.

Hair And There

  It began with my legs.

Several years ago I suddenly realized that I didn't have to shave them anymore.

What a wonderous discovery!

I was no longer a slave to weekly slatherings of shaving gel and sharp razors.

(Say that three times fast!)

Then it was my arms.

I noticed there was no longer any hair growing on my forearms.

Oh yes, there are very, very tiny and miniscule hairs, but nothing like there was when I was younger.

And then my underarms no longer needed shaving as much either.

The latest casualty appears to be my eyebrows.

I sometimes treat myself to an eyebrow wax and tint, especially just before a vacation.

It saves worrying about putting on a darker eyebrow colour every day; one less makeup step.

But this past January, I noticed my eyebrows were not growing in as bushy as they used to.

In fact, I became wary of plucking them, lest the hair never grow back.

When I went to get them tinted, I did not have to get them waxed as well.

Thankfully so far, my eyelashes are still present, able to withstand the daily coating of waterproof mascara that I like to apply.

What I have noticed, however, is the increasing hair growth of sparce, tough "whiskers" on my chin and upper lip!

What is happening?!

I have to pluck and shave those on the regular now instead, after daily examinations with a 10X mirror!

Also thankfully so far, the hair on my head is also still intact.

Perhaps all my hair energy is being channeled up there; directed upwards to the top of my body these days.

I had noticed some thinning along the front of my forehead hairline, especially when I had bangs which I used to have to blow out every day to make them straight.

To that end, I decided to end my love affair with bangs.

My "Bangs Not Botox" motto was now toast.

I had to let my forehead creases be on full display, and have come to terms with not having my beloved bangs anymore.

It has been difficult to adjust, and I more often than not pull my hair back in a headband to keep it off my face anyway, putting all my crooks and crannies out there for all the world to see.

No matter.

I am 64 now and have earned every single one of those crooks and crannies.

Am I worried about losing the hair on top of my head?  About it getting thinner too? 

The hair that my mother used to call my "Crowning Glory?"

A little.

I was blessed with a lot of really thick, really wavy and curly slightly reddish (strawberry blonde?) locks, which have been difficult to tame throughout my life.  The big hair trend in the 1980's were a godsend (see photo below).

But the swearing that used to go on behind my closed bedroom door when I was a teenager, trying to tame it into something acceptable by those 1970's standards, which included foam rollers under a hooded air dryer, prompted my brother to ask me later in life, "So, Sharon, have you come to terms with your hair yet?", is testament to the challenges it has wrought.

One hairstylist long ago said by the time I was a senior, I would have "normal" hair.

I guess she meant thinner.

It takes a lot of work, drying and then styling it, and this summer I have decided not to fight the humidity with regular blowouts and styling, and just let it live with its natural texture.

I try to tame the frizz with a leave in conditioner after it dries.  

The jury is still out on whether I like it being "au natural", although no one has complained or made any comments whatsoever.

Except some very elderly ladies on a bus tour I went on once, who complimented it and said it was beautiful.

I feel saucy and dare I say witchy with my curly locks.

It gives me a feeling of power that I am letting my natural hair texture be on full display, and I am thankful to be at a time in my life when I can let it be so.

During my career days, I would NEVER have left the house without trying to straighten my hair and form it into a shape against its will.

Now, when I am only accountable to me, myself and I, and the little jobs that I do have don't require me to dress formally or businesslike, I can let it be.

I recall a Rodney Dangerfield character in "Caddy Shack" who commented on a woman's hairstyle with, "It must have been something before electricity!"

Somedays I feel that way; that I am letting myself go, not bothering with my hair.

And then I see a woman in the grocery store who has REALLY let her hair go, and I don't feel so bad.

And so, until the cold weather rolls around again and I won't have to fight the humidity for a decent hair day, I will continue to let my hair do as she wishes; not conforming to any societal convention and allowing her to be free to be who she wants to be.

I will leave her to fly her wild flag.

A 60+ Life

  A recent Women's World magazine put out a question to its readers:  What do you do with your 50+ life?  Where does your time go and not go?  What is worthy of your time and what is not worthy?

A very good question, because by that age most of us have earned the right to be able to pick and choose what we do with that very valuable commodity which is known as our time.

And I would amend that to add:  What do you do with your 60+ life?

It is not lost on me that just a century ago the average lifespan was 60 years of age.

Now we can be optimistic that we may have one, two or even three more decades in addition to that.

What do we do with all that extra time?

Some people continue to work at full time jobs past the age of 60, although where they get the energy I do not know.

At my own age of 64, I find I really do have to pick and choose what and who and where deserves my time, energy and experience.

Because my energy reserves are not what they used to be.

It has taken a long time for me to finally let go of things; and by that I mean full time work.

As someone who babysat from age 13 and then had a paper route and then several part time jobs throughout high school and sometimes more than one fulltime job in my adulthood, working has been a HUGE part of my life.

It has taken up a lot of space, time and energy, and I have not regretted that one little bit.

I loved working; loved getting dressed and ready to go to the office/studio/brokerage.

At one point, while working full time at a tv station as an anchor/reporter, I also worked part time as a realtor, sitting open houses and selling real estate in my spare time. It was a lot.  

Too much, in fact.

When I was 48 years old, I retired from the broadcasting job, delving full time into real estate.

Even then, I took part time jobs.

It was fun to do different things, to fill my time and contribute to society.

I had always found some time to volunteer as well; walking dogs for the SPCA, reading books for the blind with the CNIB, dispatching and delivering Meals on Wheels for the Red Cross.

Last year I finally decided to call it a real estate career after 26 interesting years; meeting some great clients and helping them with some great properties.

Nowadays I still work part time/casually as a companion caregiver to seniors, helping them with groceries or meals or laundry and cleaning, things they need help with around their home, sometimes driving them to appointments or errands.

And I have tried to accept the fact that my time is now pretty much all my own, that I really don't have to answer to anyone, nor be in one place for eight hours a day five days a week.

I still volunteer, helping seniors exercise in their homes, and also as an editor-in-chief for a non-profit magazine.  

There is still a lot on my plate, and plenty to keep me busy, and I like it that way.

I am still very mobile and able to do things and keep active.

I am aware that this is the time in a woman's life when things can go sideways with our health or other matters.  

I am enjoying my life and activities, although that afternoon nap is a godsend some days.

And I know my body's limitations; if I do a one hour hike, I am careful to let my body rest and recover before any further activities that may hinder that recovery.

I eat well and sleep well, and think at this point trying to stay healthy is almost a full time job unto itself!

Making sure one stays as healthy as one possibly can, for ourselves and for others that we care for.

That is a job that we all deserve to be able to give ourselves now that we are over 60.

Twice A Child

  I was driving through a seniors living complex the other day, passing by a lady tending to her garden outside her patio door.

She smiled and waved at me.

I smiled and waved back.

She didn't know me; nor I her.

I was just someone passing by her apartment and she was being friendly.

And she was not the only one.

In my part time gig as companion caregiver to seniors (the irony is not lost on me as I am officially a senior now also at 64!), I see and meet a lot of seniors.

Both young and old.

From all backgrounds, economics, shapes, sizes and families.

And they are all friendly; all willing to be a friend, or at the very least, an acquaintance.

Ready to have a chit chat or a few words here and there; to say hello and goodbye and nice to meet you.

I have recently started going to play Mahjong at the local seniors centre every week.

Yes, I joined the local 55+ club awhile back and have been enjoying some of their events and programs.

Everyone is very friendly.

The first week I went to play Mahjong, I went up to a table of four that was already full, asking if I could watch and learn as I was just starting out.

I was immediately welcomed, given a chair to sit at the corner and watch over the shoulder of one of the players.

They enthusiastically shared some of the rules, including names of the tiles, etc.

The next round, one of those players offered to take me aside and teach me!

Yes, she gave up her game and took me and two other newbies to another table and she taught us how to play!

How so very friendly, unselfish, and generous, I thought,

The next week, I approached another table, already with three players and immersed in a game.

I asked if I could watch them and learn, as it was another version of the game.

They, too, welcomed me and were very happy to have me sit and watch.

But the next game, I was asked to play!  

And so I did.

They were patient with me, helping to explain this and that, and the rules.

By the end of the two hours, we had played many games, and I had even scored big in one hand!

No Mahjong yet.  

Save that for another day.

All were so friendly, welcoming, and happy to have me.

And it reminded me of being in Kindergarten.

Everyone is friendly and happy and talkative.

Being a young child is free from judgment, achievements, cliques.

You just show up, and you have friends.

The nurses in my mother's care home used to say "Once a man, twice a child".

I think they were referring to the adult diapers they had to change on the regular.

But I think it also applies to the mentality; the mindset of social connection.

There is no hierarchy within seniors.  (Perhaps there is, but the fact that they/we are all well aware that our demise is imminent and may arrive at any moment, THAT fact supersedes the fact that so-and-so makes more money or lives in a better house or which political party they support.)

In fact, the table I was with was "joking" about how everyone's demise is imminent, especially since some of the people in that room were 90(!!), and others well in their 80's(!!) and that the group's numbers was ebbing and more people were needed as conveners and players.

Perhaps it is that sense of mortality that makes it easy to connect and socialize and have a no-holds-barred conversation.

And I would also like to mention:  there were no phones at that Mahjong table.

All socializing was done in person; face to face.

No one was checking for updates or emails.

It was refreshing.  Invigorating.

The room was full of laughter, conversation, and of course the obligatory calling out of the tiles "Two Bamboo", "North Wind", or "Red Dragon", as they were thrown away.

I am glad to be a part of the new Kindergarten.

Perhaps they should come up with a new word for it:  "OldenFolksenGarten" or something like that.

I'll get in touch with Webster's Dictionary.

I am sure it will be a contender for word of the year.