Picture It

I’m groping for the brilliant idea I had this morning and coming up empty.  Do you ever have days when you wake up knowing you’ve just had an intense dream but even as you try to assemble your thoughts they have floated away in a cloud of grey mist.  There are days when I remind myself with a long list of tasks that I must do on the return trip but at the end of the day it’s all I can do to walk in the door and say hello.  With this sort of mind how is it possible that I retain a bit of hope that I can learn a new language, even if it is supposed to be the easiest one in the world.

       That’s right, I had my first Spanish lesson yesterday and by tomorrow I am hoping that I will still be able to remember how to count to ten!  We are supposed to write out lists in Spanish (once we progress to that level) and we are encouraged to study between classes.  However, I am terrified of forgetting my exercise book so I keep it at work.  Folks, I am between a rock and a hard place, to do my homework or to forget my book – what is a girl to do?

       Not grow old.  And here again, I have a dilemma because part of learning a new language is to prevent the mind from growing old.  Oh dear, I am starting to sound old as I ramble along.  What was I trying to tell my audience?

       Yes, picture where you put your cell phone tonight because in the morning you are going to need it to remind you to wake up and, what was that, smell the what?

       I hope you are enjoying entering your sixties!

Mountain Climbing

Picture 7 women traipsing along a mountain path with rugged shoes, ball caps and flashing whistles talking and laughing as they make the climb to what, they are informed, is a spectacular view.  It takes about an hour to reach their goal, with several (let’s say lots) of pauses to catch their breaths although the pretext is to observe the view.  The last little jaunt up the side of the mountain is better done by a mountain goat than 5 inexperienced climbers but at the behest of the 2 worthy climbers we gird our loins and make the last effort to see . . . an crystal clear mountain lake, where the bottom is deep aqua and yet we can also see emerald green moss, clear as daylight.  All is pristine, the trees are quiet as there is no breeze and the sun is shining brightly on the water, causing it to sparkle.  The effort was worth it, we all agree, while we settle down to our packed lunch, pull out our water bottles and breathe in the crisp mountain air.  Then what a surprise as one of the ladies pulls out a flask with . . . wine.  The day is complete.

       This is how I spent my last day off and after waking up with aching limbs the following morning I still was able to say “it was worth it” and that I ought to do this more often, in fact, every weekend would be great.  This of course won’t happen because for one reason or other “things” come in the way of it.  Even as I write I realize how very lame this excuse is, there are places to see, easily accessible and if one is in good health, one ought to do it.

       We shall see, but meantime, another mark against my bucket list, marked complete for my 60^th anniversary list.  Ah, the sense of accomplishment is wonderful!

Communicating is Fun

My writing muse seems to have taken a vacation so I have been looking at other creative avenues and find myself suddenly addicting to card making.  Who knew there were so many new inventions in paper art?  I have been seriously out of the loop.  There are affordable machines that can emboss, cut and imprint.  While I was aware of punches and stamps I had no idea of the range of themes available.  Look out Papyrus, you may have lost a valued customer!

       Naturally I have looked further along in the card making process because what is the point of creating a bunch of cards if one is not going to take up letter writing again.  Fortunately for me I have a number of friends who are not fluent in email so that will pose no problem.  But I wonder about other people who may not have the knack of writing, or indeed, keeping in touch with friends.  Letter writing is a true art form and in some ways I believe that it was part of my writing apprenticeship.

       I began writing letters to my grandmother overseas when I was 8 years old.  Those early letters entailed drawing a picture and then writing a story describing what the picture meant.  By the time I was 10 I was writing detailed letters without any picture prompting me along.  By 14 I was writing to one of my aunts and 2 cousins as well as my grandmother and shortly thereafter took up writing to 3 friends as we moved away from our childhood home.

       Nowadays I don’t believe young people even know what a letter is; it’s rather like the days after the invention of the telephone when people suddenly stopped making afternoon “calls” as in visits.  We simply have to move along to the new ways, darling.  From morning retro.calls to telephone chat to card sending to emails and then on to texting.  Whatever will they think of next?  Ah, a cuttlebug and back to cards.  Truly

Jumping Train Tracks

So I am sitting on the train during the morning commute and instead of reading my book I look around noticing the Friday crowd.  The curious thing about Fridays is that the crowd is definitely different.  From Monday through Thursday you will find a lot of sleepers, sloachers and readers but on Fridays there is an air of anticipation around the train.  It’s not just in the casual dress that Friday allows but how the people frequently are not doing their usual thing.  In other words, they aren’t sleeping, slouching or reading to the same extent.  Often it’s not even the same set of folks on my regular train but I recognize them from other Fridays.  Some of the regular women are only carrying one bag instead of the usual two.  They seem to wear more makeup instead of less.  Yes, there is definitely something in the air on Friday mornings.

       Friday afternoons are also different from the rest of the week.  For one thing there seem to be less students (both college and high school) but this doesn’t mean the train is less crowded.  Au contraire.  The five o’clock whistle hasn’t blown but the workers have blown off work an hour early so we have double decker evacuees from downtown.  Great.  And while everyone may have been cheerful in the morning they seem more growly on Friday afternoons.  Why is that?  Did they get chewed out by their boss?  Do they have to work Saturday?  Are they anxious to get home to their family?  I don’t know but they are generally more unpleasant on Friday afternoons than any other day of the week which is saying a lot for the ordeal of taking public transit.

       Now this is the usual state of affairs and I have grown accustomed.  And somehow since turning 60 I feel as though my fortunes have faded because when I was 59 I almost always got a seat but now, well, now it seems that this senior gets to stand A LOT.  To the point that I have considered buying a grey wig to wear on the homeward commute.  Two things hold me back.  One is the absolute state of sweating I would be in if I had to wear something like that.  But more importantly, I know for a fact that as much as I am watching Them, I am also being watched.  If I have brown hair in the morning, I know I will be outed in the afternoon.  Can you imagine the uproar when I am unmasked?  I would almost like to do it just for the drama.

       Yes, the things a person thinks about on the train is really kind of scary.  I wonder what They are thinking about?

 

Thursday`s Contemplation

Every time I see a drizzle of leaves floating off the trees I shiver.  I feel like screaming just like that old Staples commercial when children realize its back to school time.  Not just because of the advent of winter’s chill but because it means it’s time to put the garden to bed.  But the positive side is that I can sit on the deck and actually think rather than have my eye roam around the yard, ready to pounce on an errant weed or figuring out another project that needs to be built, for “improvement” of course.

       Yes, it’s nice to sit on the deck and just look around at nature allowing the mind to drift here and there.  Usually by this time of year I am in full swing with social activities and other projects but for some reason I find myself very much in a pondering frame of mind.  Is this because I have turned 60?  Is it because we had a very emotionally fraught summer?  I don’t know the answer but I very much feel unsettled.

       Which brings me slowly (and definitely not without less verbage) to Armageddon.  This is a state to which I have always been fascinated because there is so much scope for what could happen, how it could end, why it could end, and what the end means.  Should the world self destruct by means of a natural phenomenon such as a giant meteorite crashing into earth it would be sad but unavoidable.  But if it should happen because of man, then it would be a tragedy beyond all else.  When I think about how far mankind has come and yet we still behave so primitively I just feel baffled.  I do not understand why the people who lead the world are so selfish and thick-headed.  Not to mention short-sighted.

       Frequently on Facebook people will share little slogans with profound ideas to which 100’s will “like”.  The world is filled with good people, bright people, those with wonderful ideas, great compassion, profound thoughts.  And yet we have lunatics killing their own people and a “great” nation preparing to attack the lunatics “to save the world”. 

       Days like today fill me with despair.    

Can Older Women Find Romance?

I know you have all been dying to find out what I think about this topic so here goes.  Short answer, no.

       Did you feel like a bullet just went through your forehead?  My sisters say I can be pretty abrupt but my response is, I tell it to you straight.  If you don’t want honesty, don’t ask me.

       Now that you have stopped reeling, or stopped laughing (hoping for the latter) I will tell you what I really think.

       Unless you have the sex appeal (and looks, and figure) of a movie star once you hit your 40’s the game starts to slow down significantly.  Prior to this unmagical age you probably didn’t have to do any running or game playing but suddenly you are barely there.   By the time you enter your 50’s you are INVISIBLE.  That’s the first fact.

       Second fact, if you accept the above and realize that you are going to have to work at it, very hard indeed, you have to search for game.  This is not easy because the conventional areas are pretty sparse of the single species.  You will have to go into risky territory, like bars (forget it), or internet trolling (predators and liars), or start random conversations with prospects on the bus (risky).  So your victim is going to be very hard to find, bottom line.

       Third fact (bring out the Kleenex) if you manage to find a likely prospect chances are while you might find this specimen of some interest chances are great that if he shows a spark of interest it will be in your pocketbook rather than you.  That’s right ladies, you are now a target for someone who is either looking for a supplemental meal ticket or, worse, a nurse.  Oh, and watch out for any prenups at this stage of the game because he may exclude you from his “fortune” by giving it all to the kids while he is eating and sleeping out of your home. 

       Last fact, take a look at your life.  Right now you can buy a lipstick without having an old coot jammer at the cost.  Right now you can jet off to Timbuktu without anyone whining that you are spending his hard earned money.  Right now, Sister, you are way better off than with dubious Arm Candy.

       No, romance for a senior is pretty darn well NOT THERE.  I rest my case.

Can You go Home Again?

During my vacation I had the opportunity to go back to my childhood home.  Now when I say childhood home I mean that in a fairly loose sense since we travelled around quite a lot, but from the age of 8 to 14 I lived in Burlington and so I feel this was my “real home”.  Stepping out of the car just after we passed our old house was surreal for me.  This was something I had wanted to do for 46 years, wow, 46 years!

       It was funny to remember where our childhood friends lived, here was the babysister’s house, here was the duplicate house to ours, here was my sister’s friend’s house, here’s where the old pear tree used to stand.  Wow, the elementary school, W.E. Breckon was torn down and posh homes built in those acres.  Incredible to think that public property was sold off to private enterprise.  Where were all the children going to go to school?  Busing, apparently.  There were 4 different mass malls on Appleby Line as we approached our suburb.  Front yards had shrunk to accommodate large boulevards and sidewalks which was nice but really made the old homes look dinky small.

       We drove down the old Queen E which is now called Lakeshore Blvd and were stunned to see multimillion dollar homes by the dozens, maybe hundreds.  We were beyond delighted to then discover something unchanged, a Dutch deli that we would sometimes go to in our childhood.  I asked the cashier “how long has this shop been in business” and she replied “56 years”.  When we told her we had come back to visit after 40 years she asked “can you go home again”?  We looked at each other and weren’t quite sure how to answer. 

       For sure, it was not the same neighbourhood with no children at all in sight, no one lived in the homes we used to know, not even our school was still standing.  So I guess my answer is “no”, you can’t go home again.  Things change, we move on.  It’s as simple as that.

September and New Starts

Another Labour Day weekend when many of us start to think about putting gardens to bed and preparing for a new school year.  Even though school has been over for decades for us we still get into that way of thinking “new beginnings”.  It’s amazing what 12 years of habit can create for a lifetime.  But then, they do say that we create habits within 6 weeks so it shouldn’t really be a surprise that September means a new page for most of us.

       This summer has been a very unusual one with an unprecedented State of Emergency throughout much of our province which in itself has changed so many lives.  Even if we were unaffected directly by the flooding we were exposed to the effects in towns, with our friends and in our businesses.  Watching the City of Calgary rebuild itself in a few short days to host the 101^st Calgary Stampede was incredible.  Seeing the unbelievable disaster in High River affected me in a very personal way and some of the stories coming out of that town have made me question many things about media coverage and cover up.

       Through all of this we have also been subjected to the national scandal of corruption in the senate and we have to wonder what our government and our Prime Minister will do about cleaning things up.  As we now know Prime Minister Harper does not deal well with duress; his solution to all things that go against him is to take the ball and go home and pout.  Case in point, proroguing parliament for 6 more weeks is how he is dealing with a bad situation – like we are going to forget what has been going on for the last 6 months?  One can only trust to the sanity of our populace that they will be remembering this come election time.  Oh, and there is the little question of why Canada is not boycotting the Olympics in Russia given the sanctioned attacks on homosexuals.  I guess homosexuals simply don’t have the same human rights as, say, those people in Syria? 

       I’m thinking about those political questions, I’m thinking about human reaction to things and I am wondering about grace under duress.  We humans can be brilliant one minute and then very ordinary, very apathetic, and very uncivilized the next.  It’s quite a perplexing puzzle on the nature of humanity.  I wonder if one those caring persons are covered during the flood recovery for instance, are the same folks that would turn into an angry mob in a different situation or are those a whole different set of people?  I’m not sure.  As my sister and I left the theatre after watching “The Butler” I silently observed everyone leaving and wondered “how would these people behave if a certain section of society was no longer viewed as One Of Us”?  Would they still stay politically correct and feel that it is wrong to attack a certain group for whatever reason, or would they swing with the general feeling?  I really hope that it is the former, that there are enough of us who are brave enough to always do what is truly right – knowing that all human beings have a right to live as equals regardless of race, creed, gender, whatever.

       It’s been a very intense summer for some of us but definitely interesting in every way.