"Creativity is just problem solving."

Creativity is just problem solving.

That quote, from the utterly awesome Ed Catmull, is included in an article in the current Sept 2016 Reader's Digest on how a team of creatives transformed Frozen from flop to fabulous.  

The article got me thinking about how differently people approach the challenge of America's Boomers pushing past the traditional retirement age, into their 70s, anticipating their 80s, 90s, 100.  Considering how too many youngers treat today's olders elders ancients.

Seems to me that most people who are aware our generation's tick tock focus on what doesn't work.  If that had been the approach of the folks at Disney/Pixar, Frozen would have crashed & burned on release - if it had gotten that far.   

Instead, the ORIGINAL team - not a replacement - was instructed to forget what didn't work, to instead envision their biggest hopes for the film.  Move past details - what sort of STORY did they want to play out on the screen?

Different people were drawn to different aspects within the story, but as a team they realized the adversarial aspects fails while what moved the heart forward were the relationships - and their barriers, perceptions, misunderstandings, closely hidden secrets, misrepresentation & unexpected interplay.  

Peter Del Vecho noted, "We can always find the right story when we start asking ourselves what feels true."

That thought stopped me in my tracks, thinking about how woefully messed up our American culture seems around practically every aspect of inching upward in age.  

The challenge our nation faces is that the very people driving private perception & public policy around "aging in America" are the absolute worst ones to put in the driver's seat.  Men & women still wading through the muck & mire of middle age, an age marked with fear of growing older, with almost nil vision of what is ahead, misunderstandings of the realities of getting significantly older, and the sorry fact that what little they know scares them witless.  

Ask THEM to spin the story they expect to play out & the storyboards will be filled with bleak, depressing, disabled imagery.  

~ ~  *  ~  ~

The Frozen team turned the flick around by turning to basics, drawing on their own experiences.  

Parts of their lives enabled them to imagine how Elsa felt, being constantly judged as abnormal for something that came naturally to her.  They transformed Elsa's reality into opportunity for growth rather than judgement - from others & herself.  Because they could relate to her truth.  Alas, middlers are the last ones who can relate to the realities of tipping their way into their 60s, 70s & well beyond. 

Here's about as good a description of the sense that most folks locked into middle age have toward their elders as I've ever come across - “Midlife crisis begins sometime in your 40s, when you look at your life and think, Is this all? And it ends about 10 years later, when you look at your life again and think, Actually, this is pretty good.”  (Donald Richie)

Those very middlers are the ones who THINK they know what happens as others age out of their 50s & into a reality - retirement - their produce produce produce brains can't envision as anything less than a fate worse than death.  

Task them with going off with their faulty life script, reconsider their basic premise, come back with something closer to the mark?  They'd fail because most can't get their heads around what they've never experienced.  Fewer & fewer have actual regular, day-to-day, casual & connected experience with people outside their own age.  

If they are stuck at "Is this all?", imagine what they project olders to be feeling!

Harking back to their own experiences is what got Frozen on track, but the team was still flummoxed when it came to finding a satisfying ending. To do that required a shake up, with the writer taking on the additional role of second director.   

When it comes to changing the flailing script around growing older in America, voices that have always been there need to drawn into the discussion  - olders elders ancients.  

The article talks about how the team discovered the end had to be about love being stronger than fear.  I'd tweak that for how our abysmal culture misreads edging upward past our middle into really up there - it's about LIFE being stronger than fear.  

~ ~  *  ~  ~

Ed was right - "Creativity is just problem solving."  While there's still time to right the mess that America has made of how we tend to envision growing older elderly ancient, the window of opportunity won't stay open forever.  If we don't use all our creativity to turn this problem around, our children will treat us even worse that the current youngers regard much older family & friends.   

As an almost older myself - 02/07/17 - am invested in turning the storyline of my seriously-up-there in years from a bomb into a smash hit that delights all generations.  As Pete Del Vecho said, "We can always find the right story when we start asking ourselves what feels true."   

We need to help the thought leaders & policy makers that impact our nation's culture around aging get the true stories of being up there in years, the perspectives that run counter to their own intuition, to spark a creativity in ALL of us that will solve the problem for current & future generations.

They need to see all that folks my age & those far older can do, to bust out of false images of bogus limits, to break through to a greater appreciation of the fact that older age holds more happiness than they can literally imagine where they are, currently frozen in false images of aging!  

May all such youngers get to the point where each can see the gifts that are only accessible to olders elders ancients, where each gets to the point where he or she can sing out, with clarion belief & uplifted heart - "The old never bothered me, anyway!"

Importance of a patient advocate

Oh, the memories of going through Mom's medical situations, health care crises & hospitalizations come rushing back as I read Ashton Applewhite's This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism. 

Although Mom was basically healthy, her doctor kept an eagle eye on a potential heart condition - a periodically irregular beat would land her in the hospital for a day or so.  Nothing nail biting, just rebalancing & observation. 

During one such stay, in hMom's upper 60s, her family doctor stopped by for his daily visit.  Talking to her, he said, "As long as you're in bed, why don't I do a breast check?"  Which is how he came to find a teensy lump. 

The first oncologist they set her up with was a no-go.  Too clinical, with no intention of involving Mom in her own care.  Great story behind it, involving myself, my sister & a brilliant friend (a French professor, dean at a local college ~and~ a trained psych nurse) breaking her out of the hospital.  For now, let's leave it at the hospital realized she was NOT happy & found her a new oncologist - her beloved Dr. Domkowski, who treated her like the Queen of Sheba.

Long story short, he did a modified mastectomy (American hospitals didn't do lumpectomies back them), was sure he got all the tumor, she never needed any chemo, never recurred. 

Mom's first experience with getting medical care as an older patient started out rocky, ended up with a great outcome.

Mom's next major hospitalization was in her 80s.  Again, she was admitted for a heartbeat readjustment.  Her physician put her under a cardiologist's care, assuming she'd be back home within 36 hours.  If only.

This time, Mom's condition morphed into something serious. Her cardiologist - an older doctor who seemed more martinet than healer, set in the old school mantra of "The doctor knows best." - blamed her body for the negative outcome of the meds he'd prescribed. 

Will never forget him saying, "They were the right meds - your body reacted wrong!" 

Thought about that amazing pronouncement as I read Ashton's observation, "Physicians often fail to account for age-related changes in the way older bodies absorb medications, to check for side effects, and to consider the effects of being on multiple medications."  That sounds familiar!

I was beside myself.  The arrogant sob would not, could not see Mom's condition, only what he considered the best treatment of her symptoms & could not restrain his fury that she hadn't reacted appropriately.  The fault was on her.

In the meantime, Mom's GP didn't realize she was still in the hospital, so hadn't stopped by to check in on her.  He was stunned when I called to ask, "Where have you been?" - he'd assumed she'd been discharged after a day, that he hadn't gotten the paper work yet.  The cardiologist's staff hadn't informed him of her nose dive.

During Mom's earlier experience with the subpar oncologist, she had no fewer than three advocates - Mim, Margaret, moi.  During her heart problems, she had a different three - Mim, moi & her awesome granddaughter, Whitney, who could, in spite of her petite stature, got answers & action by pinning nurses against the wall better than anyone I've ever seen.  During subsequent situations, the role of advocate fell primarily to me.  

Mom always had at least one advocate, often more.  And she learned to build on her instincts of being her own advocate.

That is, sadly, not the norm for most people, especially for most older people.  Older patients have multiple whammies when it comes to getting appropriate health care, beginning with the fact that our country has a rapidly expanding group of folks over 70, while the number of doctors specializing in their care is shrinking. 

Too many geriatricians tend to treat the age, not the presenting symptoms.  There were doctors who made assumptions about Mom's health & treatment plans based on her age, not on the chart in their hands. 

Ashton notes that medical personnel often discount symptoms like poor balance, bowel problems, memory challenges, aches & pains as "inevitable consequences of advanced age," rather than as treatable. 

Mom was blessed to have some great doctors, with only a few so-so.  But whether they were awesome or ho-hum, there was always an advocate in front of them.  Mom. 

Mom never left home for an appointment of any magnitude without two lists in her handbag - her symptoms (she knew how easy it was to forget the most robvious thing) ~and~ questions.  She didn't leave the office until they were reviewed & answered.  There were times she - or the doctor! - asked me or John, if he had taken her, to join them. 

Looking back, I can't remember that many older people in the waiting room who were there with younger family or friends.  Usually, they were by themselves or with a passive care partner.

This is my MEGA shout-out for oldsters to have someone who serves as his or her life & health advocate.  Confession - I do NOT, so this posting is a huge wake up call to initiate discussions with John, to get our wishes documented, to bring in a back up who has an image of what makes for an effective advocate, who can ask ask ask for clarity & well-considered options. 

Do the older loved ones in your life have a life & health care advocate who knows what's important to them?  What are their wishes in case of a health care crisis, are they written down & signed off on?  If you are not uncomfortable asks questions of medical professionals, either learn how or bring an experienced advocate on board.  Make sure there is someone line up & available if YOU need care. 

The difference between having a patient advocate for yourself or someone you love, particularly a person who's past 70, can be the difference between an optimum outcome or much less.

What don't we know that we think we do?

What don't we know that we think we do?  Something we are all wise to ponder. 

In doing the final deep clear of the Computer Studio, now dubbed THE  RETREAT by my O Best Beloved, came across a copy of a letter from Mom to Kerry & Mike ~ "It stunned me to read that you are hurt because I assumed that my health care bill (in Australia) is yours.  The Australian Government and I were assured by you that health care in Australia was available and that you assumed full financial responsibility for it.  This (apparently they sent her a copy of the bill for medical expenses incurred during her stay).  I will be glad to send what money I can each month."

It was a pretty good letter, if you ask me (as no one did).  Laid out what happened, explained why Mom - who had basically no money, since my oldest brother blew away what Dad left in skanky investments - hadn't thought to send down money against her billing.  She made clear that, knowing their feelings, she would send what she could each month.

It turns out from a subsequent note that what got Kerry's goat was that Mom wasn't sufficiently grateful.  That she never said, "Thank you," for the thousands they spent on the medical care-hospitalization-partial procedure she had due to a non-functioning kidney that became enflamed due in large measure to having flown - for the first time in seven flights - basically non-stop from Phila to Sydney (with a 1-hour layover in LA).  An arduous trip they arranged.

Hullo - we're talking Katharine Reynolds Lockhart.  No one who knew my mother would ever consider her the sort who wouldn't show her appreciation for physical emotional financial TLC.  It was utterly NOT in her nature to shrug off kindness, to ignore generosity.

My guess is she didn't say it in the way that they wished to hear it, whatever that might have been.  They certainly did go out of their way to rub her nose in it, or at least Kerry did, referring to Mom's "cavalier attitude" to their largesse.  Mom?  Cavalier about anyone's kindness?  Those who knew her would be on the floor laughing - no how, no way.

Kerry couldn't let slide the opportunity to dig in the knife.  "Mum, you missed the point altogether of what Mike was trying to say.  Heaven forbid that you might consider saying 'Thank you' - as distinct from saying absolutely nothing.  Too late now to matter.  Please do not send any money, Mum.  Michael & I would prefer to follow the well-entrenched Lockhart tradition of burying our heads in the sand & never mentioning the issue to you again.  Love - Kerry & Michael"

Where to start?  She mentioned that Mom missed Mike's point - but doesn't explain what it was.  She rips into the kindest woman on earth for not being sufficiently grateful.  She flips off Mom's intention to send whatever money she could because it's "too late now to matter."  She skewers Mike's family for a failing she'd always slammed but intended in this instance to follow.  Snotty & mean-spirited.

For decades, I couldn't get my head around why Mom balked at moving down permanently down to Australia, to live with Mike & Kerry.  They always seemed crazy about her, she would have been with two adored grandchildren & part of a spiritual community she loved.  In spite of my urging her to go, she wouldn't budge.  It never made sense to me.  Reading the note from Kerry -  and another equally snotty one from the next month - should have given me an inkling.

We don't always know what is best for our older loved ones, even when we think we do.  This note - and others - should have been a tip off for me, but it wasn't.  It took until the last weeks of her life for Mom to finally confide in me the why behind her refusal to move permanently Down Under.  After decades of keeping me in the dark, she explained the reason she wouldn't make the move was because of the cruel remarks Kerry would make to her about Dad.  Looking at the nastiness in her short note, can imagine how ghastly it must have been for Mom, who felt too loyal to her d-i-l to let on the actual reason for staying put.

It got me thinking about how very little I actually know about my mother's relationship with any of her children.  When, in my early 30s, I finally suggested it was time for her to move in with Mike, something she'd always presented as an option, it shocked me to have her throw up every possible defense.  "Here is  where I spent most of my married life with Papa."  "How can you make me leave the place where Pete is buried?"  "My friends will never forgive you for making me go."  It was the last one that made me throw in the towel, although looking back I think that her friends would have said, "About time you have your own life."

The point is that we children don't always know as much as we think we do, a fact that was brought home to me again looking at the notes from Mom & Kerry.  I always thought that Kerry treated Mom like her own mother - not so. 

Looking at the note one last time before closing this posting, the thing that strikes me most is how there was no reaching out for better understanding of what Mom was thinking or feeling.  It was all about Kerry, about their hurt, about hugging it close to them rather than allowing Mom the ability to make amends. 

Most interesting to me is the comment about following the Lockhart lead & burying their heads in the sand over the issue.  That was NOT Dad's way, nor is it mine, which got both of us into hot water with Kerry.  It was how Mom, Peter & Mim operated with any issue that might be testy, could cause unwanted confrontation.  But it wasn't intentional on Mom's part; it was a defense mechanism learned over sixty years before to survive the horrors she experienced through her own mother.  But Kerry knowingly buried her head in the sand, she chose to never mention (which insured never forgetting) the issue again.  There is something seriously not right about doing that intentionally. 

For almost 20 years, I was distressed that Mom wouldn't move, wouldn't free me to get a life of my own.  Peter had his own life, Mike had his, Mim had hers - I had Mom.  And I couldn't figure out why she wouldn't move where she would be cherished, where she could make such a major impact on a family that included kids, surrounded by friends & neighbors who loved her. 

How often do we youngers not know the whole story behind a family issue?  I count myself incredibly lucky because Mom did finally come clean with me.  When I asked why she'd kept it to herself all those years, she explained she didn't want me to think poorly of Kerry.  Better I see her as the culprit.

Oh, the things family friends loved ones don't know about things we think we do! 

This woman rocks

In preparation for THIS  WEEK's  CSA International Conference on Positive Aging, am savoring a read-through of Ashton Applewhite's instant classic on expansive living,  This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism, lingering over favorite bits, soaking in spot-on passages. 

Astonishing, realizing that less than two months ago, I'd never heard of Ashton, the person I revere as my Thomas Paine, rallying support for expansive living as she rails brilliantly against the constrictions of ageist language & our culture's atrocious attitudes toward those who are inching upward in years, past 60.  (In today's ageist culture, one need only be 55 to get many "senior" discounts, can join AARP once s/he hits 50!)

There have been a few books on issues around getting older that set me thinking as I read about my own family.  How we dealt with the challenges of Dad dying at 62, Mom widowed at 63, back in the day when 65 was seriously considered old age.  How being particular ages & at different stages & even epochs of life, with our own experiences & histories in & out of the family affected how we interacted with our mother, our expectations & our personal agendas.  Ashton's book makes me think of all of those issues & ideations with tenderness, compassion & humor.

Mom & I share an interesting trait - when something goes particularly close to our hearts, it's almost impossible to write about, at least when it happens.  She never did share a detailed description of Whitney & Chad's wedding - the joy of her granddaughter marrying such a wonderful young man filled her too full to put down on paper.  I never could bring myself to write down impressions of Carl & Natalie's wedding, which I was meant to share with Dave & Candy - heart too full for anything so prosaic as mere words & common punctuation.

That was my response to my first read of This Chair Rocks, to my first encounters with Ashton's blog - too filled with wonder at the sense of homecoming to put it down as a posting. 

With the conference coming up at the end of the week, with Ashton giving Friday's opening keynote presentation, it would be a terrible disservice to my sense of the moment to not take the next days to share at least some of the aha moments brought to me through her book.  It hits me that I actually started yesterday, with two postings directly inspired by Ashton.  Interesting to see what bones get laid down over the next 36 hours. 

Stick around, check it out!

CAUTION: Spirit in the Making

In This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism, Ashton Applewhite talks about pushing back against our youth-centric, age-fearing culture by using "Older Person in Training."  Personally, based on my own experience & the experience of others around me, I opt for SPIRIT in the MAKING.

When Mom's orthopedic surgeon, Dr. John Beight, held her hands in his & told her she was young, what I believe he meant was she seemed ageless.  Not young - she clearly, at 90, wasn't youthful.  Her hair was grey, her face wrinkled & droopy at places, her body resembling what she joshed looked like a saggy baggy elephant.  But those things weren't what registered with people encountering Mom.  What did was her ageless spirit.

This morning, I had the great fun of talking about my dear friend, Anne Davis Hyatt, with some of her friends - all men - at her senior residence. 

Anne now resides in the Personal Care Unit, on the 4th floor.  She cannot leave the floor without an escort, it would be a struggle for her to get back to her room without assistance;  she knows we have a grand time together, but couldn't tell you my name;  she will ask for the day & date, then ask again within the minute.  Yet the one newcomer at our breakfast group would never have guessed that, listening to the other three  men extol her verve, her joy of living, her friendliness & generous spirit.  To them, Anne is ageless!

My heart is filled with gratitude for Ashton's remarkable book.  Thanks to her, I do all I can to avoid using ageist language & when I do to make it at least a bit non standard - - oldsters elders ancients, words my dear old Mater used to describe herself & her compadres.

It seems to me that each & every one of us is an Old Person in Training from the time we are born & almost from that time use ageist labels.  There is something so beyond adorable about seeing a babe in arms, barely able to speak, spotting another little one & saying, "Baby!" - "Look, Mater, at that human who is less than me!"  

Then, there's the flick, Freaky Friday, which centers around multiple issues of ageism.  Lindsay Lohan's character, having switched bodies with her Mom, wails, "I'm OLD!" on seeing her reflection in the mirror.  "I'm like the Crypt Keeper!"  Her mother was played by Jamie Leigh Curtis, a sweet young thing of forty-four. 

Imagining how Mom might have responded if Dr. Beight had held her hands as he said, "Mrs. Lockhart, you are ageless."  My guess is she would have lit up, rather than brushing it aside.  Ashton is so spot on ~ ~ ageist terms - even "Baby!" from a 14-month old to one year old - are full of judgement, while spirit statements expand. 

Ashton can be an Old Person in Training.  Me?  Put me down & write me up as an all-atwitter SPIRIT in the MAKING!

Mom was ageless

Mom appreciated all of the physicians who did so much to keep her humming, but Dr. John Beight, her orthopedic surgeon, had a special place in her heart.  He was kind, open with his patients & incredibly good looking.  

Mom suffered from a torn rotator cuff, which seriously messed up her left shoulder.   There were daily tasks she could not tackle, from putting on her stockings & tying her shoes to getting out of bed once she was down.  If she needed to get out of bed for any reason, an assist was needed.  The injury meant a lot of visits with her ortho - Dr. Beight.

She appreciated him, on every level.  I remember taking her to Holy Redeemer Hospital for some post-op testing & being surprised when on of the recovery nurses came out to the waiting room, laughing.  "Your mother is such a card!" she said. "There she was, stretched out, resting up from the testing, while the rest of us chatted.  We didn't realize she could hear us swooning over how Dr. Beight is so handsome.  Suddenly, we hear her say, with her eyes still closed, 'He is to make the angels sing.'  Well, we were so surprised - first, that she heard us but even more by what we said.  'Mrs. Lockhart,' I responded, without thinking, 'You're old!'  None of us will ever forget her retort - 'I may be old, but I'm not dead.'"

Yep, that was Mom.  She appreciated every aspect of Dr. Beight & he did the same, right back.  But I can let Mom speak for herself, since she wrote about him back on 06/28/00:

One of my bestest buddies is Dr. John Beight, my orthopedic surgeon.  I think I have mentioned before that he is dashing fellow in looks and manner.  He has been wonderful to me.  I had an appointment with him this afternoon to check out my poor old shoulder. 

He asked how I was.  I gave him my standard answer - "I take two pain pills a day.  My spirits are good.  I have a good appetite.  I live with a loving daughter and a loving son-in-law.  Who could ask for more?  It can't get much better than this." 

He gave a slow little smile and said, "You're young."  Surprised, I replied, laughing, “Oh no!  I am old!”  He looked at me, very seriously, and repeated, “No, Mrs. Lockhart, you’re young.”   

Later, as I was getting ready to head out to the waiting room where John was biding his time, Dr. Beight looked at me very seriously and said, "Your son-in-law is a wonderful man.  I saw the way he helped you."  I whole-heartedly agreed!  Then he shook my hand - he has beautiful hands.  I thanked him very much and he graciously replied, "My pleasure" and sounded like he meant it. 

I am so lucky to have association with such a good doctor and gracious man.  What I appreciate most about Dr. Beight is that he is unusually modest.  He seems totally unconscious of the fact that he is a very handsome man.  He is natural.

When I headed out to meet John, I felt much, much better than when I came in, in part from the cortisone shot in my shoulder but in larger part to the effect of Dr. Beight.


When Dr. Beight said Mom was young, I believe what he truly meant was that she was ageless, something to which we can all aspire.  Ashton Applewhite talks about the value in being an Old Person in Training.  Mom stood out because she was just a person.  Not old, not young, simply real.  

The Internet became popular when Mom was in her 80s, but it wouldn't have touched her life if she hadn't already & always been interested in other people.  She got into using it  - she'd dictate, I'd transcribe - because of getting involved in a lively discussion over the issue of female ministers in our male-only church priesthood.  Typical Mom - she belonged to both the pro ~AND~ the con discussion circles, explaining that she agreed & disagreed with different aspects of both arguments.  

Mom would never have developed her own Mindwalker1910 e-mail following if it hadn't been for her deep interest in others.  And here is an interesting aha realization  - on the Internet, no one knows how old you are.  Mom came across in her postings as a vibrant, fun-loving, bad ass (in the best meaning of the word - see Brene Brown), not as some old woman.

Which brings me to another important aspect of my mother - she always used whatever tools were at hand to forge relationships.  Okay, so I admit to encouraging her to get online, but she was open to it, was eager to hear what others had to share, particularly those who thought differently than she did.  Mom loved a good discussion, a respectful back & forth.  

Throughout my life, Mom modeled being a full-throttle human being who didn't think in terms of age.  I never thought of Miss Ashby or Miss Phoebe, Mildred Pitcairn or Doris Pendleton, Grandma Rose or Viola Ridgeway as OLD - they were, as seen through Mom's eyes, vibrant & fascinating women.  

Perhaps the most fascinating thing about reading Ashton's wondrous book, This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism, is how age has been such a foreign idea in my life.  Mom was a kid of 70-something when my sister-in-law chastised me for leaving decisions up to her;  in Kerry's opinion, her m-i-l was too old to be left in charge of her life.  Both my sister, Mim, & I recoiled in horror at the thought of treating our mother like she couldn't cope with life.

Both Mim & I knew that such a day might someday dawn, but it sure wasn't then.  As it turned out, it never did.  Mom remained ageless & mentally independent until her last breath.

Oh, her body went south, that's for dang sure.  Witness the messed up shoulder.  But there are a lot of young men who have similar injuries from their hard-playing high school & college sports.  Mom didn't have a serious impairment until her upper 80s - not bad!

Ashton writes, "As an Old Person in Training, I see the ninety-year old me as withered and teetery, but also curious and content."  She sets the bar WAY below my mother!  I remember the day before Mom took the tumble that landed her in the hospital for her last stays.  We had lunch at the John Harvard Brew House in Devon, we stopped for ice cream along the drive down to Alexandria, Virginia (where Mom was throwing a brunch the next day for family & friends in the D.C. area), we had dinner in Maryland, her Maryland (she was Baltimore born).  At each place we stopped, the servers warmed to & interacted with Mom to such a degree that John & I marveled.  The young woman at John Harvard almost knelt in front of her, she was so affected by Mom.  Not Mom's age or kindly manner or sweet smile - MOM, the person, who on that particular day seemed to totally shine through.  Not withered, not teetery, just HER.

Mom was ageless.  Anne Hyatt is, too.  When Anne smiles, you feel bathed in a special light.  

I think of the friends Anne made at Centre Bridge Inn, above New Hope, back when Barbara Trent played from 7-9 p.m. every Wednesday night.  When we opened the door to the restaurant, people gathered at the bar would turn, their faces would light up & there would be a happy chourhorus of, "Anne's here!"   So many of them confided to me that they'd dreaded getting old, but knowing Anne had banished those fears - here was a woman in her early 90s, facing the challenges of memory loss, and still out there partying.  Not withered, not teetering, just LIVING.

Barbara no longer sings at Centre Bridge Inn, but Anne is still - at 95 - getting out to hear the music.  John & I saw her last night, at the last of our small hometown's Borough Park Concerts, all of us tucked into someone's welcoming home due to rain.  Through rain & up quite a few stairs, Anne got there & blissed out listening to the wondrous bluegrass & olde timey music of the Hillbillies of Cohesion.  We saw her son & daughter tucking her in the car to go home, all beaming smiles & deep happiness.  The look on her elderly face transcended age.

That is how friends & pleasant acquaintances at her senior residence respond to Anne - with awe at how she transcends age.  She walks into a room & all eyes turn toward her.  She isn't any important person, doesn't have great wealth or social position.  But she is authentic, kind & unfailingly friendly, with a ready smile & generous spirit. 

That is what they see, what folks saw in Mom - her transcendent spirit.  Ashton talks about being Old in Training.  Let me be Spirit in Training, living & acting in a way that people don't see the wrinkles, the weariness, the unsteady gait.  May I become someone whose doctor sees as ageless, who is forever greeted by friends shouting out with happiness, "Deev's here!" 



         








    

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