And then there is this . . . .

Saw this thing on Face Book - “Don’t mess with old people. We didn’t get this way by being stupid!”  There is actually a fair amount of truth in that statement.  There are a lot of great things about retirement and there are a number of other things that aren’t so wonderful. I can no longer skip through a field of daisies (if I could find a field of daisies). On the other hand, I probably could beat a hasty retreat, even at my age, if the field was full of goat heads!  Life tends to set limits as we age.  A fact that I still refuse to accept no matter how many times it is pointed out to me.

But there are things I can do. I can save you a lot of time and effort if you will just ask for some advice. Most of us mature people have “been there, done that” at least once. There are several graduation certificates from the School of Hard Knocks hanging from my walls. I have lived through enough crises to know when to panic and when not to. I have learned to take time and think things through before I make life changing decisions. I have the wisdom to consider the consequences before I leap into the unknown.

Given that I can still mentally operate in this world, why is it that I am basically ignored by the younger generation. I am still capable, but am some times treated as if I am invisible. It seems so unfair. We (the collective aged) finally get our life together, and our body takes a hike and we are left with a shell of what we once were. I finally have some semblance of financial stability and the time to enjoy life, and I find that the ole bod says “I don’t think so!” My head says I can, the body says no…….and I am caught in the middle, torn between an active imagination and a broken frame.

I remember when my parents got older, I thought I was trying to help them with certain things because it all seemed so easy for me. I knew about things that they had not experienced. Now I am my parents. And I resent being treated like I don’t know anything. I don’t need help yet with decision making, financial planning, plans, etc. I, however, could use some help running a shovel, pruning a tree or pulling some weeds.

Why is it so difficult to listen? I think that is what most of us, young or old, want. We want to be heard. Respect for our elders has disappeared. It has been replaced with an arrogance of sorts. As a child, I remember my grandmother as a tough, old pioneer woman. She would walk 15 miles out to our farm when she was in her 70’s. She was not your cuddly, babysitting grandma by a long shot. But she would take me for walks on the prairie or in the woods where she taught me the names of the plants and what they could be used for, which ones to eat and which ones to stay away from. I still remember those things. She didn’t talk much so when she did, I listened.

My Grandma Thompson

That has not changed today. I want my children, my friends to listen to me. I don’t like feeling left out or treated as though I don’t understand anything. I am not just an old person! Not yet anyway. If you would walk with me and talk with me, I might do better. I can still learn, it might take a wee bit longer, but I can. I have wisdom to impart, knowledge to share, even some stories to tell. You will want to know these things someday. Only I won’t be here anymore. I know this, because I often wish my parents, grandparents and other extended family were here so I could ask them questions about the past.  It is important to know where we came from.  Genealogy research is great but it doesn't have "flesh and blood" memories like the ones we get from our family.

One of my most precious friends in my middle years was my neighbor who was sharp as a tack up to the day she died at 103. She had wisdom, knowledge, faith, strength and stories of such things as the sinking of the Titanic, the Great Depression, and her life on the “frontier” as an 18 year old school teacher. She was fascinating. I have stories too. I lived through the things you now study in school. I remember Vietnam, Kennedy’s assassination, the men landing on the moon. I lived with no electricity or plumbing. I took a bath in a wash tub, used an outhouse and cooked on a wood stove. I chopped wood, butchered chickens and canned vegetables. In my own way, I am more prepared for a pandemic than many other people. Did it ever occur to you youngsters that I, or your parents or grandparents, might have wisdom or understanding that could help you survive? You will want to know these “old people” some day and understand their ways……..don’t let it be too late.

Just Writin’ on the River Road