Reflections on Aging

Please Call Me An Older Adult, I Haven’t Been a Senior Since College

Most of my writing has focused on being a senior, and I never liked that label. I associate it with being in the last year of high school or college, and I graduated from both of those a long time ago. I have a grandchild who was a high school senior last year, is now a college freshman, and hopefully, in about three years, will again be a senior, for one year. In contrast, my “senior” status is here to stay. So I decided to look into other terms I would feel more comfortable with.

There are many possible synonyms for senior, and preferred terms have changed over time. Thankfully, current expressions have moved away from drawing attention to infirmities or declines in functioning. Examples of these offensive terms include “geezer,” usually referring to an older man who is ill-tempered or cranky, and “dinosaur,” which implies that the person is past their peak or out-of-touch with current trends. I will never use those – except in this essay.

The aging population in the US has been described as creating a “silver tsunami.” This refers to the baby boomers (born between 1946-1964), who started reaching the traditional retirement age (65) starting in 2011. I think this is also somewhat pejorative, as it often is used to refer to the increased health care needs that this population is likely to require. In addition, tsunamis are usually not welcome events.

“Senior citizen” appears to identify someone who is older, and implies that the person has voting privileges and other rights in the country where they live. But our country has many older residents who are immigrants, and may not have the full slate of rights that citizens have. So this term doesn’t seem like the right one either. I like “elder,” which conveys wisdom, better than “elderly,” which implies physical or mental decline. But they both seem to point to individual characteristics, rather than a stage of life.

Many recent changes in terminology for various groups has moved to a focus on the person rather than the condition. For example, someone who used to be called a “drug user” is now a “person who uses drugs,” and the phrase “person with a disability” is preferred to “disabled person.” But I don’t think this construction works as a replacement for “senior,” it feels awkward to replace it with “a person of many years.”

The term “golden ager” generally refers to someone who is over 65 and has retired. It came into wide use in the US in the early 60s, as part of advertisements to encourage people to move to retirement communities, for a life of leisure, relaxation and the pursuit of personal interests. However, I hear this term often now used sarcastically, as some people age and find that health declines can make their lives more difficult and not a time of “golden years.”

Finally, I found a term I like – “older adult.” It locates me as being well along on the life scale of adulthood, exactly where I am. I like it better than “older person” which could refer to almost any age, depending on one’s perspective. For example, someone who is 15 would be seen as an older person by a young child.

I live in a housing complex that has a K-12 school on its premises. Recently, the senior class had an event for the seniors who live on site called “Seniors Serving Seniors.” They provided a dinner and an opportunity for each group to get to know each other. It was a fun time, and I got to talk to several bright young people. And we all knew who were really the Seniors and who were the Older Adults.

Supernumerary?

I know, “supernumerary” is a difficult word to pronounce, with unclear meaning, and it has been significantly declining in usage since the 19^th century. Nonetheless, it describes what I sometimes feel. Definitions include “extra, present in excess of the normal or needed number,” and synonyms include “superfluous.”

At the end of a busy life, as wife, mother, career scientist…what happened? The life cycle has moved ahead as expected – my children left home, moved away, found partners, had children, and made lives for themselves; my time for retiring from a life-long successful career became appropriate and seemed desirable; and my husband, significantly older than me, became ill and died. In all those events, my role declined or disappeared.

When they were young, I felt close to my children, and when important events—good or bad—happened to them, I was often the first to know. I comforted them when they were sad or disappointed, and applauded their accomplishments. I was proud of them, and glad to be central in their lives. Now our relationship has changed. They have life partners, and dear friends, who are the first to know of their successes and concerns. And they now have children who come to them for comfort and congratulations. And that is how it should be. But I feel like a supernumerary in their lives.

When I left work there was a time of continued communication and consultation with colleagues, but that soon ended. Others took over the many parts of my professional role, and soon wanted to put their own identity on the tasks and do it their way, with no input from a previous incumbent—me.

After I retired from work, some aspects of the relationship with my husband were enhanced, as we had more time together. When he became ill, I was central to his well-being, arranging for medical care and home aides. After he died, I was no longer needed by anyone at home, there was just me. Sometimes I felt like an extra in my own home.

Because I grew up in the 1960s, songs from that era often come to mind at this time in my life. I have recently been thinking about the words from a song by the Byrds: “Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There is a Season).” I liked singing the song and felt I understood the words then, but I more deeply understand their meaning now.

I know I am fortunate to have lived so many seasons. And I am learning that I am not an “extra” in life, there are still tasks for me to do, and needs to fulfill for people I care about. My daughter and her young family recently moved, and she is filled with excitement about her new home. She called to tell me about it, and it was clear she was exhausted from all the work involved in unpacking and setting up the home. And she was so happy, almost struggling to control her feelings about all the work that still needed to be done. “I feel such comfort with you Mom” she said. And “I think of the guest room with you in it.” After the telephone call, I realized that although my time for setting up homes for my family are over, I can bring comfort and support to my children in undertaking these roles and tasks. I’m no supernumerary there.

In terms of my career, the research center I built, still funded after more than 25 years, no longer needs me- there are other outstanding senior scientists who now oversee its work and provide support to a wide range of scientists. That part of my life’s work is done. But I’m not. There are several young people in my family who I serve as a mentor for, my writing helps me fulfill my needs to be creative, and I have learned that some of the readers of my Blog draw ideas and inspiration from what I write. So while my prior professional roles are over, there is still meaningful work for me to do.

And regarding my husband and my roles as a wife and caretaker – there were many seasons in our relationship: a time for falling in love, for raising children, for enjoying each other, and for supporting each other through the successes and challenges that we had together. And that part of my life is over. But my love for family and friends means that we support and encourage each other as we age, and life’s changes and losses mount. I’m finding this particularly important in terms of my close friendships, as we share experiences and feelings about our lives. We have become even more important to each other, and I am no supernumerary there.

And so the change of seasons continue, and the roles I play have been transformed. As the line in the song says, there is “… a time for every purpose under heaven.” I see that I can find new, evolving purpose over time. It comes from looking around me to see the people I care about who may need my encouragement during particular changes in their lives, and from looking within myself, to identify interests and pleasures to pursue that I had little time for in the past.

Keeping Things of No Use

Why do I keep things that have no use? Sometimes I look around my apartment and think I need to clear out some stuff I never use, but it’s not easy.

In the kitchen, I now only do minimal cooking. I often buy prepared foods and use the microwave more than the stovetop or oven. So why do I have so many pots and pans? And why do I keep my shelves of cookbooks? When I want to make a new dish, or use certain ingredients I have at home, I look for recipes on my iPhone and print them out or sometimes just use them while looking at my phone.

In the bathroom, I have a collection of hand creams that I received as gifts and have never used. I’m not sure why I keep them, perhaps because I appreciated the person who gave me the gift, they are in attractive containers, have nice aromas, and maybe one day I will start using them.

I retired from work about six years ago, pre-COVID times. My closets held suits and heels for years that I wore in my research scientist role, that I hadn’t worn in a long time. I finally donated most of the suits and heels, although I still have some of the suit blouses. Once in a while I have need to wear one, and whenever I look at that part of my closet I see them hanging quietly, and feel they are waiting, hoping, to be used so they can get out of the apartment again and see the world.

And since I am on the topic of work and retirement, I have file cabinet drawers with papers and articles that I brought home from my office when I retired. I don’t need the hard copies, as I have most of them on my computer, and I haven’t looked at them for years. Maybe it’s time for them to go. The file drawers, and the storage area in my basement, contain lots of old receipts and bank and investment statements that were related to my tax returns. The standard period that the IRS requires that I keep these items is three years, but I have some from decades ago. I even bought a shredder to help in the task, but I am not ready yet.

I consider myself a bibliophile. I have always loved books- the look, feel and smell of books. I even named my first dog “Bibliophilia.” I like to hold a book in my hands, rather than read books on a screen. And ever since childhood I have revered books, perhaps because my European -born parents always emphasized the importance of learning. I would never write in books, not even dog-ear pages I particularly liked. On my shelves I have some books I really enjoyed, and I keep them in case I want to read them again or refer to them. But I also have many books I know I will never read again. I have given away some books to friends, and donated others, but many that I am unlikely to open again still sit on my shelves. Perhaps they too are waiting, along with my old work blouses, to be held and used.

Why do I keep all these things? Having the space for them means I don’t feel pressed to discard them. But I think the real reason is that they are reminders of my past, of places I went, people I knew and achievements I had. And their familiarity is a source of comfort. Perhaps I will be ready to discard them as I create new directions in my life.

Maturation of Aging

One of the reasons I started this blog several years ago was because I found it so surprising that I was becoming an older person. Who me? No, old people were some aunts and uncles and other older family members, or people I saw on the street pushing rollators. When I saw an older person on the bus I was glad to offer them my seat. I knew I was considered a senior by the world at large, but I didn’t quite consider myself an older person yet.

As I continue to age, I now realize that aging is not a fixed stage that I reached, but that some things continue to change. I like to think that I am becoming a more mature older person.

My back has started hurting me. No problem with balance, no osteoporosis, it just feels tired when I walk, and I find myself slouching. The doctor said part of the problem may be that I need to strengthen the muscles around my spine, and some physical therapy (PT) may be helpful. When I was younger, I always thought PT was to help you recover from an injury – temporary and to restore you to prior health. Only older people needed it to maintain normal functioning. I guess I’m in that category now, and there are consequences for having walked upright for so many years.

I recently went to the dermatologist for a checkup for skin cancer. I had not been there in several years, even though I know annual skin checkups are recommended, especially for seniors. The examination showed that everything was fine. I asked the dermatologist to remove some of the dark spots/tags on my face and around my neck. I thought they were unsightly, something older people get. But not all were removed, and I’m sure more will be developing. I am now planning on going for annual visits- to have the checkups that are recommended, and to get the doctor to remove those dark spots and “tags” whenever I go. For some things, I don’t want my maturation to show!

I have discovered the joy of brief, mid-day naps. When I am busy in the morning, whether doing things in the apartment or going out, I find that I need an early afternoon nap. About 30 minutes is enough to give me energy for the rest of the day, although it usually takes a little while after I waken from the nap to feel ready to go. I resisted this need for a while but I have experienced the benefits, and will continue this as needed.

And I find that I am more sensitive to others’ language and to my own use of certain words. I have become more patient when my older friends tell me things I know they have told me before. Given my own changes in memory, I figure hearing them repeat a story will mean I am more likely to remember the details. And I hope they continue showing the same kindness to me when I repeat stories. Also, some words have become more sensitive. The other day I was writing an email to a group of senior friends, who I likely wouldn’t see for a couple of months. Since it was the end of the summer, I started to write “Have a nice Fall” – I smiled as I quickly changed the last word to “Autumn.”

By the way, I still offer older people my seat on the bus. But I do it much less frequently. This is not because I’m a less considerate person, but sometimes, I need it too.

I like the definition of “maturation” that refers to developing to one’s potential, and believe that it didn’t stop once I reached adulthood. Accepting the changes that continue to happen to me, and doing what I believe is needed to help me adapt, is the best way to handle what I can’t change, as I continue to mature.

Bagels for HOW MUCH?

Many older people complain about high prices, and inflation keeps increasing the cost of lots of things, especially since the COVID pandemic. I thought I had gotten used to these increases, but wow- some prices still shock me.

I am first generation born in America. My parents were born in Eastern Europe, came to the US in the early 20^th century, lived through the depression, and were always careful with money. Perhaps this is why I am startled at some current prices. My mother would go to a food market out of our immediate neighborhood if they had sales on Heinz ketchup or Bumblebee chunk tuna, even if the savings were just pennies. She would stock up when these items were on sale, and sometimes this wasn’t a great idea. I remember using very dark red ketchup that clearly had been aging.

It seems to me bagels cost about 50 cents for a long time. It took many years to get to $1.00 a bagel, and even though that seemed high, the stores I went to generally had big fat bagels, very filling, so I didn’t resent it too much. And when you bought a dozen, you got 4 extra for free, and 2 extra when you bought 6. But the last time I bought a plain bagel it was $2.50! I could hardly believe it. I don’t mind the high cost of the lox, white fish or salmon salad, perhaps because they were always the most expensive items in bagel stores, but it seems especially strange for the lowly bagel to cost so much.

And what about pizza! I remember it being $1.00 a slice. Now at my local pizza store, even a plain slice with no toppings, is $4.30! I suppose the prices for many fast foods, regardless of ethnic association, seem too high if you remember what you paid for them decades ago.

And I remember when train fare was $1.00, and we used tokens. But I don’t complain about bus/train fares anymore, since as a senior I pay half-fare, so I consider that a bargain. But cabs- they were always expensive, and only used for special events, when I was running late. But now, after various surcharges have been added, they feel like a luxury, and it usually costs well over $20 for a ride within Manhattan. And I can’t help sharing my outrage that the cost of a first-class postage stamp is now $0.78! It doesn’t seem that long ago that it was $0.05 (actually, I just looked it up, it was 1968; I guess that is a long time ago). No wonder that there’s so much texting, and paying bills online- to save postage costs.

There’s lots of talk these days about the difference between “needs and wants.” When I was a child, I don’t recall this being a topic my family discussed. Generally, my “needs “– food, clothes, school supplies – were taken care of. “Wants” were for special occasions, like birthdays and Hannukah.

It’s no wonder that one of the biggest concerns of older people are increasing costs. I feel there’s not much I can do about the costs of basics, like food and transportation, so I just will be mindful of what I spend on these items, and make sure I take care of my “needs” as well as some “wants” too. And in terms of saving on the cost of postage, I now do a lot of texting and on-line bill-paying. But sometimes it feels good, and the right thing to do for personal matters, to handwrite a letter or note, put on the postage stamp, and just put it in a mailbox. And it’s worth the cost.

Surprises

One of the things that can make life interesting, and sometimes even fun, are the surprises that can appear.

I recently had a reminder of this. We were planning a party in my apartment for my granddaughter, for her high school graduation. My son and daughter-in-law told me they arranged to get some entertainment for the party, and it would be a secret. As the party date drew closer they said they had to tell me, as they needed a place for the entertainer to get dressed – they had hired a drag queen to perform!

What a surprise to me! I always thought of entertainment in a traditional way – like a singer, a band, or a comedian.

PS- Full disclosure- at my recent birthday, some family members sent an Elvis impersonator to the party. He was dressed in suitable sparkly clothes, and regaled me and my guests with old Elvis songs. He was a surprise, and I enjoyed him. But he fell within my preconception of an entertainer; a drag queen seemed altogether different.

I needed a place for Tom to get dressed, so he could come into the party fully outfitted. I hesitated to ask a neighbor if he could use her apartment to fix his make-up and change his clothes. Sometimes people in NYC are private and protective about their apartments. But as I started telling her about this need, before even asking if he could use her apartment, she said “have him come here” and “that sounds like great fun”. This surprised me, but perhaps it shouldn’t have – my neighbor, in her ‘80s, is outgoing and engaged in many aspects of NYC life. Also, the purple streaks in her gray hair, while they startled me when I first met her, made me think that she would have little problem with my request.

The party was a great success. Tom entered about half-way through, with heavy makeup, a store of colored wigs, flouncy outfits, panty-hose, and an ample, well-shaped bosom. She sang and danced, incorporating the balloons that we used to decorate the room. After being initially surprised, some of the guests sang along with her, and we all enjoyed the performance. Tom mentioned that she used to do these performances often, but had recently retired. This made me wonder what a drag queen performer does in retirement.

After she changed back to her regular clothes and left, the family member who had arranged for Tom noted that while he had recently retired from doing drag shows, he still continued in his regular job, a math teacher!

What a surprise that was!

As I get older, I want to keep in mind that assumptions that I live with—for example, that being a drag queen and being a math teacher can’t co-exist— can be wrong. If I hold on to my traditional assumptions, I may miss some great pleasures. I look forward to more surprises.

Bring on the ’80s

What does it mean to reach the ‘80s? There’s no escaping the fact that when you reach that decade, you are considered old. As I approached that age I became more interested in reading the obits in the NYTimes, with a focus on ages and causes of death. I was concerned when I saw that lots of folks arrive on that page in their ‘80s. But I have also seen many in their ‘90s, so I am not going to worry about it.

As I approached my ‘80s, some of the changes I experienced since retiring from full time work several years ago continued. There are declines in energy, additional aches in various body parts, and some forgetfulness. But overall, I am grateful that I don’t feel much different than when I was working. I do hear more about friends getting sick, and some needing body part replacements, usually knees or hips, but generally they recover and get back to participating in their lives. So I think that as long as I follow reasonable exercise and diet recommendations for people my age, and engage in cognitively stimulating activities, I can continue to enjoy many of my interests for a long time to come.

When I expressed some concerns about approaching my ‘80s to a same-aged friend, she hesitated and then told me “I did my best work in the ‘80s”. We both laughed, as she and I were very busy in the decade of the 1980s, active in our careers and raising children. It made it seem that the ‘80s were something to look forward to, and could be as enjoyable as they were in the past.

I heard of another friend who was being encouraged by her children to move closer to them, in another State, and go into a senior independent living facility. Still active, funny, and with a lust for life in her late 80s, her children felt that it would be good if she moved so the people she would be living among would get to know her as she currently was, before some of the declines of aging, both physical and cognitive, make their claim. A poignant, wise observation, one I thought I would file away for later, much later, consideration. I will file it in the section with information about medical alert devices. Not there yet.

I have met people in their ‘80s who enjoy life, feel they accomplished what they wanted to do, and are at peace with the thought of dying. This view always surprises me. Others, like me, are eager to explore new activities, and feel that we are at a stage where we have the freedom to enjoy doing things we didn’t have the time or resources for throughout much of our lives. Starting in my post-retirement ‘70s, I realized that for much of my time I could now choose what I want to do based on what gave me pleasure and what I felt enhanced my life. I no longer had most of my time determined by the needs of my career and a family at home.

But there seems to be a common theme across many people in their ’80s: horizons have become smaller. Infirmities, energy limitations, chronic health conditions, all have lead to changes in activities. My plans from years ago to go to China to walk on the Great Wall is no longer likely to happen, and doesn’t even seem so appealing any more. And my ability to enjoy multiple activities in a busy day—the gym, a museum, and dinner with a friend—is no longer possible. Most days there isn’t enough energy to do them all in one day, and they must be spread across several days. But I’ve come to see this as an advantage; sometimes filling the day with several activities, with little rest time in-between, reduces my ability to savor each activity.

I am ready, there’s lots to do, bring on the ’80s.

Steppin’ Out

When I was in college, I learned that taking on another identity, even briefly, gave me pleasure. I remember going to Forida during a college school break with a friend and when we went out one night I suggested that we take on other identities, and use foreign accents. Let’s say we are Russian-born, and now work for the CIA in covert activities as spies, getting information about military actions in Russia. It only lasted for one evening, we played these roles with some men who were flirting with us at a restaurant. Our Brooklyn accents surely conveyed that we were not Russians, but I found it funny to try and speak with a foreign accent and make up things about myself that were not true. It made us laugh. I felt vivacious and full of life, quite different from my usual shy self-conscious personality. Taking on a new persona freed me from my usual one.

I have also found this freedom when speaking other languages. My first language was Yiddish, or rather Yinglish, which we spoke at home because my Poland-born grandmother, while adopting some English vocabulary, never learned to speak English. As I grew up, I learned some Spanish, as we had relatives from Cuba and I liked hearing the language around me when they visited. I studied Spanish for several years in high school. I was never fluent in either Yiddish or Spanish, but learned enough to have informal conversations.

Throughout my adulthood, when possible, although infrequent, I used those languages. My older sister and I would speak Yiddish when I visited her in Florida. As she developed dementia, it became more difficult to communicate with her. As a research scientist I ran a project focused on people who were Puerto Rican, and I sometimes spoke with staff or research participants in Spanish. But when we turned to the substance of the research, we needed to return to English.

And now I have begun to seek out opportunities to speak these languages. I find that whenever I speak Yiddish or Spanish, I am surprised at how much I enjoy it, and the risks that I take even when I am not sure of the correct word. Each language has sounds that are not found in English: the tilde over an n in a Spanish word like niño (meaning boy), gives it a nasal sound not found in the English language. And in Yiddish, the ch becomes a guttural sound, as in challah (a ceremonial braided Jewish bread). I take pleasure in forming these sounds and hearing myself say them.

It’s almost as if when I speak these languages, I am steppin’ out of myself and into another identity. And my identities in these two languages differ.

With Yiddish, which I now speak with a Zoom Meetup group, I get in touch with my beloved Bubba, and I am the little girl who she loved unconditionally. Yes, I make mistakes when I speak Yiddish, but it doesn’t bother me, as she loves me anyway. And my Meetup mates, some of whom speak Yiddish better than me, most of whom also learned it from their parents or grandparents, are glad to provide a word when needed.

And I mainly speak Spanish with Francia, my consuegra (or machataynesta) – my son’s mother in law- who visits from Columbia. (Yikes- now I can mix my Yiddish with my Spanish!). I know that Francia appreciates the effort I make; she speaks no English, and cannot participate in general family conversations held in English, as my son doesn’t speak Spanish. She and I share our love for our children and the wonderful marriage they have created. She readily turns to her daughter when she needs an explanation of what I am trying to say, and we all three laugh, like three girlfriends conspiratorially enjoying each other.

I find that when I speak either of these languages, I come away feeling good about myself. I draw from word banks and memories I didn’t know I had. I feel engaged and enlivened.

Charlemagne is credited with saying “speaking another language is like having another soul.” I think he was right- it expands my sense of self, my expectations and appreciation of myself, and my perspectives on the world and people in it.

I hope to keep steppin’ out… and I recommend it.

Time Off For Retirees

I worked as a research scientist for many years, and was conscientious about doing my best and getting tasks done on time. But now that I am retired, and have more freedom and choices about what I will do, I miss having days off.

What’s a day off when you are retired? I decided I needed to create days and times when I don’t do the things I usually do since I retired, but take time off to try out different activities. And I also want to use those times for the other definition of “off” as in “I’m a little off today,” meaning I do things that are not what my usual self would do.

When I was working, I had vacation days and sick days. Infrequently I would take what I called a “mental health day”- meaning I called in sick—but I wasn’t—I just needed to take a break from work. I also took off the Jewish Holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and there were several annual National holidays when my office was closed. I spent some of those days off doing things with family, often just relaxing.

It sounds like I had a lot of days off, but it didn’t feel like that. Most months it was only one or two days. And sometimes I worked in the evenings and weekends, so it felt like work filled much of my time. I anticipated that retirement would give me more time for leisure and relaxation.

I retired about six years ago, and my days can be quite busy. While I have flexibility in what I do, and have more free time, I try to schedule certain things on a regular basis, like going to the gym, writing in my journal, reading the newspaper, going to a museum, and seeing friends and family. I started feeling that I needed some time off.

So some days I don’t do my usual retirement activities—I don’t read the newspaper or go to the gym, or go to a museum, or even get dressed—but I will spend the morning reading a book in bed. I know, it doesn’t sound very exciting, but hey! I’m just starting out on this path. When I first did this, it felt bold and daring. I think I am working up to more interesting times off.

I also try to have days I can feel I am a little “off,” that is, do something I never did, that I think would be fun. This can also have other benefits, as novelty in activities is recommended by medical experts for increasing the health of older people. So I recently joined a Meet-Up group for conversational Yiddish. Yiddish was my first language, I have no one to speak it with, and although I have forgotten (fargesn) much of it, I remember enough to have a primitive conversation, often laughing as I try to remember particular words.

This may not sound too “off” to you, but it is definitely not something my usual self would do—I like to feel mastery in activities I undertake. I look forward to trying more new things I am not good at.

I recently had another realization about time off. I enjoy writing essays for my blog, like this one, but sometimes I have trouble getting started. So I now schedule particular times during the week to work on essays, and I give myself deadlines for completion. Wow- that sounds like what my work life was like, with tasks and due dates. But it seems to work, I feel pleased when I complete something I want to write about. Perhaps for me in retirement, with lots of choices of what I want to do, time off sometimes means working at something I am interested in with the same motivation and diligence I brought to my work before I retired.

That’s it! Time off in retirement for me is not just looking for more opportunities for relaxation, although that’s good too, it’s simply taking time off from my regular retirement activities.

Paper Checks and Landlines

As I get older, I find that there are some technological advances in managing the tasks of daily living that I haven’t fully embraced.

I still write paper checks, reconcile my bank account statements, and carry cash. Many people I know tell me they don’t carry cash or write checks anymore, and they never reconcile their bank accounts. Apps like the digital payment services Venmo and Zelle, and automatic deductions from checking accounts for regular monthly bills and credit card bills, have become the preferred way to pay for things. But even though I now use these for some of my payment needs, they feel impersonal, so sometimes I still use checks. I also use checks to give gifts to people, especially since I learned that many gift cards go unused.

I find that reconciling my bank accounts gives me a sense of control over my funds and satisfaction when there is somewhat close agreement between my check book and my bank statement. It is also helpful when I find that an error has been made— usually mine—and after I resolve it I feel more certain about my bank balance.

Bill Gates said that “the advance of technology is based on making it fit in so that you don’t really even notice it, so it’s part of everyday life.” I guess I am still noticing it, and it will become easier once I fully integrate it into my life. But I recently heard that Apple Pay is the newest mobile payment service, you don’t even need to carry credit cards, just use your phone to pay for things. I think Gates is probably correct, but I don’t get it—how can you not notice something that keeps changing?

I like having cash in my wallet, at least $100. This may be a vestige of my having been near the World Trade Center on 9/11. I worked in Tower 2 and was on my way to work when the buildings were hit. Although I was able to walk about two miles to my aunt’s house, I later realized that if I had to go further away, with public transportation stopped, I would need cash to pay someone to take me. I don’t think writing a check or trying to pay with a Zelle account would work as readily. So I feel more secure when I have cash in my wallet. Also, when I want to tip someone for service, like a maid in a hotel or a server in a restaurant, I prefer leaving cash as I know that is what they generally prefer.

In addition to not fully integrating the newest tools to manage financial matters, I have not fully adopted other advances in technology. I have an iPhone, and am comfortable with WhatsApp, setting up Zoom calls, and other features. But I still have a landline, which I use for faxing, and sometime making calls from home. I find faxing easier than scanning. I know that few people now have landlines and even fewer fax documents any more. But at times I still have a need to fax a document, and so I don’t plan on giving up my landline. Also, a landline is essential when I have misplaced my iPhone at home: I simply call myself using the landline, and I can easily locate my phone.

By the way, having the capacity for phone calls that allow me and the person I am talking with to see each other is great, and I do this quite often. But please, let’s only do this if we have arranged to see each other on the call. Otherwise, I may not feel ready to be seen, especially if it is in the morning.

I like using QR codes when I am in a museum, to get information about the artwork I am looking at. But I don’t like to use a QR code at a restaurant to see what is on the menu. I realize this method may be more hygienic than using a menu that has been touched by many hands, and makes it easier to update a restaurant’s offerings and costs, but give me a hard copy menu please. I like holding it in my hands and turning the pages, and if I can’t decide what I want, it is easier to go back and forth between the pages.

So why is it hard to let go of some of the ways I have always done things? Familiarity and comfort are certainly part of it. Also, most of these replaced methods still work, although perhaps not most efficiently. But underneath that, I think the sense of mastery that I once had about managing my life’s chores may be declining in some arenas. Dealing with changing technology is one area where using the methods I am most familiar with helps me feel that I still maintain some control.

I know that all these changes in technology represent progress and I will continue to learn to use new tools. They can improve my ability to manage parts of life. But I will hold on to some of the “old ways” that work for me, some are already part of my everyday life and have served me well.