Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Studies show that most people want to continue living independently despite health problems or age-related  issues. As a professional geriatric care manager, I often work with children of aging parents to assist them with navigating the often-overwhelming issues of caring for their aging parents.   I am a baby boomer myself with a busy life, and when my mother  fell and broke her femur and her hip, she went from being completely independent to completely dependent. She could no longer drive, go to the bathroom by herself, cook her own meals, no longer control her world based on her vivacious past.  It was Continue Reading »

When I grow old and other people take care of me, I hope I will be served strong brewed coffee with real cream and that I can eat my breakfast at 10 o’clock in the morning and not between 8-9:00 o’clock.   I want to take bubble baths with the lingering scent of Verbena and Patchouli and have my lunch at 1:00 in the afternoon.  I’ve always enjoyed a glass of wine in the evening with my meal; it is a ritual of sorts with deep roots in my family history…a time that reminds me of listening to Edith Piaf with my father and sipping on Zinfindel while talking about the state of affairs or his adventures during World War II.   My father had his last glass of Zinfindel at lunchtime on March 3, 1994.  He went to take his daily nap afterwards and died while napping.  What a wonderful way to live: to die while sleeping, while dreaming… Continue Reading »

Do you remember your first speech class, where you were assigned a topic and had to develop an argument for or against the subject at hand? Where you realized that there really are two sides to everything regardless of wanting to believe there is only one?  My view of the pros and cons of Assisted Living facilities is a mixed bag.  I could argue for it in some instances.  There are times when, for an older adult, relocating to a residential community it a good thing measured by the person’s happiness in doing so.  I usually prefer to argue against it.  It most often feels like living in a big hotel.  When I visit one of these places, I always talk with the residents, some pushing their walkers around; sitting alone on a bench outside, or in the elevator going up.  I ask them… Continue Reading »

Why does a date-palm lose its leaves in autumn?
Why does every beautiful face grow in old age
Wrinkled like the back of a Libyan lizard?
Why does a full head of hair get bald?

Why is it that the
Lion’s strength weakens to nothing?
The wrestler who could hold anyone down
Their shoulders under his arms?
God answers,
“They put on borrowed robes
And pretended they were theirs.
I take the beautiful clothes back,
So that you will learn the robe
Of appearance is only a loan.”
Your lamp was lit from another lamp.
All God wants is your gratitude for that.

-Rumi

Forgetfulness, by Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion,
the entire novel which suddenly becomes one you have never read,  never even heard of, as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,  to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

Poem by Karle Wilson Baker

Let me grow lovely, growing old–
So many fine things do:
Laces, and ivory, and gold,
And silks need not be new;
And there is healing in old trees,
Old streets a glamour hold;
Why may not I, as well as these,
Grow lovely, growing old?