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 20th 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.

Elasticity of Time

I have recently noticed a strange contradiction in my perception of time. As I get older, I am more aware that my future time is getting shorter. I have completed the great majority of the years I will have. This makes me want to be more deliberate about what I do with the remaining time. Who do I want to spend time with? Where do I want to go? What will be the legacy that I leave? I have many answers for these questions, but generally, thinking about the time I have left leaves me with a sense of scarcity.

In contrast, now that I have been retired for several years, and my husband recently passed away, I no longer have extensive work or caregiving responsibilities. I feel that I have more time in the present, in each new day. And although I am busy most days, filled with activities like household chores, meeting family or friends, reading, going to the gym, writing for my Blog, etc., I have a sense of luxury in time, probably because on most days I have choices about what I will do.

Of course the two time frames overlap, and my current days are filling my remaining years. And yet, I sense a difference, in that the time I have now, my todays, are the only time I have any control over.

And there is another change in my time perception that is happening: time sems to be going by more quickly. When I recently went on vacation, although I was away for six days, in retrospect it seemed even shorter. Where did the time go?  It’s a little scary. I want to say – hey, wait a minute – or a few – I didn’t want that time to go so quickly. But will that be how I feel from now on? When I am enjoying myself time seems to go by faster, but those are the very times I don’t want to experience as fleeting.

Some researchers and popular media articles have noted that time seems to go faster when you get older because you have fewer new experiences to mark the passing time. They recommend that doing new activities and experiences will make it feel that time does not move so fast.  But this doesn’t usually apply to me; often it is when I am engaged in new experiences, and enjoying myself—be it with new people, trips, restaurants, etc., —that time seems to go the fastest. Perhaps my time perception differs according to where I am in the experience- whether I am actually in it as compared to when I am recalling the experience.

But if the remedy for me to slow down time is to engage in activities that are boring, I certainly don’t want that. I think the only solution is to plan and engage in each day and simply experience it, making choices when I can, and enjoying the expanse of time I feel I have within that day. Even planning for things I want to do, like travel, writing a book, or getting a special gift for someone I love, can bring joy. This is another part of an experience, its anticipation, and I can choose what I want to anticipate.  As for the future, it may be diminishing in time, but I have little control over that. In any case, I will only be able to experience it day by day.

Fragments of the Past

For my last birthday party, my daughter framed some old photos of me and placed them on tables around the party room. There was one that captivated me immediately, it was of me and a girlfriend, standing on a beach in our two-piece bikini bathing suits. Mine was a yellow polka-dot bikini, a popular style (and song) at the time. The picture was taken over 50 years ago when we were in our mid-20s. We stood tall, our figures shapely and alluring, and our faces filled with pride and anticipation of our unknown futures. I remember that seeking love and a life partner was one of our hopes at that time.

The photo now sits next to my desk.  My friend and I both had careers, married, had children, and are now widows. We no longer have those shapely figures, and our faces show our ages and the challenges in our lives. It seems so long ago, and yet… I see the  seeds of our futures, and who we are now, in this old photo.    

I recently started clearing out some closets, and I found my laminated PhD diploma, granted from Columbia University over 40 years ago, and closeted for all those years. It seemed vain to hang it in my office—colleagues in my research environment didn’t hang their diplomas either—and it felt even more vain to hang it at home. I took it out, dusted it off, and it now hangs on a wall in my bedroom. I could put it in a more prominent place, but it’s not for show to others. It is just for me.

I cherish these two fragments of my past. That’s me, I remind myself, as I pass each one. They happened at a time when the possibilities seemed endless, and both hinted at my life to come. I now take inspiration from them for my life to be— no longer foreshadowed by youth or by academic achievement—but by hopes and aspirations that still emerge, even at this time in my life.

Untethered

I was tethered for much of my life, with lots of things I had to do. It never bothered me, but I often looked forward to times when I had less responsibility- be it vacations, or when my kids were grown, or retirement.

Through graduate school there were lots of assignments, and most of my life after school- career, marriage and raising children- all brought responsibilities, due dates, places to be at certain times.

After my kids left home and I retired from work in 2019, I believed I finally reached a time when I could feel untethered, with a life guided by more freedom of choices.

That was true for a short time, and then the COVID pandemic emerged. Even within COVID restrictions, I felt I had many choices of activities, and the time in which to do them.  

But new responsibilities emerged when my husband Doug became ill. He had several chronic health conditions that worsened over the last two years of his life- dementia, pulmonary fibrosis and cardiac failure. I hired an aide who came five days a week, six hours a day, giving me a narrow window of freedom to choose what I wanted to do – like meet a friend, go shopping or to a museum- or sometimes just to close the door to my study and read.

I again felt tethered. Like Cinderella, there was a time by which I had to be home, at the end of the aide’s work shift. And I didn’t go out at night or on the two days when we had no aides. Fixing his meals, helping him dress, bringing him things he needed and taking him to doctors’ appointments all took time. I also carefully watched and assisted his movements around the house, to be mindful of his unsteady gait, and the tubing and equipment which brought him life-sustaining oxygen.

When I was home, we could watch TV, talk, and have some meals together. And in nice weather I would take him out on the Plaza that was outside our building, initially using his walker, then in a wheelchair. But he soon became too weak to leave the house.

And then he died.

The house became so quiet: no Doug, no aides, no constant whirring sound of the oxygen concentrator.

So now I am untethered. But it’s not what I anticipated.

When I come into my apartment there is total silence, that seems to reach out to enfold me. Sometimes when I am home I turn on the TV to add sound, I can always get a response from my google nest (she can even tell me jokes), and occasionally I talk to Doug or myself.  But I am acutely aware of being alone. And with my newly found freedom, finding the motivation to do things that interested me in the past can be difficult.

It’s only been a few months, and I miss having someone at home to tell about my day, to ask about theirs and even to ask me to do things for them. And I especially miss being able to talk to Doug, to share news about a neighbor or a grandchild with someone who has the same level of interest and concern.

I guess I have reached a stage where the tethers of my life have dropped away.

And I miss them.  

Unexpected Changes That Aging Brings

In the past few years, I wrote several essays related to changes that aging brings. I anticipated many of these, like changes related to my health, and welcomed others, like having more free time for activities that I care about. But I am also finding some unexpected changes that require adaptations, and even challenge some of the beliefs I always had.

For example, I have had to make adaptations to my drinking habits. From my teen years until just a few years ago, alcohol made me feel uninhibited, and often quite clever. When going out with friends, a cocktail before dinner and a glass of wine or two with my meal enhanced the evening’s experience—of my interactions with my companions and the enjoyment of the food. But I now find that my consumption of alcohol needs changing. It makes me tired, thus shortening the time I can spend with friends, and my remarks no longer seem so clever. Also, drinking interferes with my being able to sleep through the night, and makes me feel lethargic in the morning. So now I limit myself to either a cocktail or a glass of wine, and drink it slowly. This has not reduced my enjoyment of the evening. It also made me realize that I could find ways to reduce the negative effects of unexpected changes that come with aging.

My beliefs about what is important in romantic relationships are changing. In my 20s and 30s, finding a marriage partner was a goal for me and many of my peers. One unmarried friend, in her early 30s, even said that she didn’t care if she got divorced, as long as she could say she was once married. And I always saw dating married men as taboo. But now, as my peers and I are well past the traditional ages for the milestones of getting married and having children, my views are changing. A friend who is my age, and is divorced, is dating a married man. He lives with, and is the primary caretaker of, a wife who has severe Alzheimer’s disease. His relationship with my friend is mutually satisfactory- they are companions when it can be arranged, enjoying activities together.  He makes sure his wife’s needs are met, and there is no intention of changing this arrangement in the future. A different kind of stable “happily ever after” has been reached. I am learning that ideas and judgments I had about relationships may no longer be valid, and arrangements that I never even considered may become the most desirable.  

And as I age, continued adjustments to the adjustments I have made to improve my life are becoming necessary. I have used hearing aids for about five years, and they have greatly improved my hearing. The hearing aid mechanisms fit around the outside of my ears, and although my hair generally covers them, they are sometimes visible. When I first bought them, I was still dyeing my hair a very dark brown, so I got black hearing aids. I thought this made them less conspicuous. I recently had to replace the hearing aids, but since I no longer dye my hair, the black ones would become more obvious. I decided to get a gray matte finish, which blends in better with my current salt and pepper hair color. I do not consider myself vain, yet was pleased and amused as I gladly picked out this new color. I am learning that adjustments to changes as I age must be ongoing, and can bring continued satisfaction.

While these three examples of unexpected changes I have found are quite diverse, they have a similar lesson for me. Unexpected changes will occur throughout my life. Making adaptations in behaviors and beliefs can sometimes result in unexpected benefits.