Divesting

Over the course of my adult life I acquired many things. This included several homes. When my children were young we lived in a Manhattan apartment and bought a vacation home in the Pennsylvania mountains, mainly used on weekends. When our apartment became too small we moved into a house in the suburbs. This meant that we had room for more stuff – furniture, tchotchkes, even a ping-pong table. And because we had lots of closets in the house there was always a place to store things we didn’t have an immediate use for. So we filled them.  Several years after moving into our house, my mother-in-law died and we inherited a condo in Florida.

I have also acquired more substantial things over these years. When my children married we had more in-laws and places to visit, and more grandchildren were added. And professionally, as my career developed, I added academic degrees and a long list of successful research projects and publications that I authored.

But in the last few years I have entered a divestment mode.

The vacation house was the first to go. When my children became high-school age and wanted to stay home on weekends to be with their friends, we decided to sell it. This was easy for my husband, Doug, and me. We only had it a few years and since the house had come furnished, we just left everything behind, a little more used. Also, we didn’t miss the space as we had already moved to our suburban home and it provided many outdoor activities and vistas.

About 15 years ago, after the children went to college, we sold our house and moved back to Manhattan. This also was not difficult for me- I was eager to get back to Manhattan, happy to eliminate the long commute, and never thought of myself as a suburban Mom. This was my first major divestment and we had lots to dispose of.  We took many things with us but most of the furniture was sold, given to others, donated or thrown out. Local charities got our record collection, lots of books, and furniture, including a piano. The new owners bought our dining room set, and we left the backyard furniture (no need for that in a Manhattan high rise apartment). But the basement of the house had provided space for materials for my husband’s life-long miniature wargame hobby, and we had no space for it in the new apartment. So we rented a studio not far from our Manhattan apartment so that Doug could continue to paint figures, create battlefields, and do the other activities required to prepare for running games at miniature war-gaming conventions.

The stuff in the closets that we never used was easy to part with. In the last few days we lived there, since we were required to leave the house “broom-clean,” we got a big dumpster and threw things out of the window from the second floor. This was fun. After all these years, I haven’t missed anything I gave up… although I could use some of that lost closet space.

The second major divestment occurred last year when we closed the studio Doug used for his hobby. His energy level was declining and it was getting harder for him to stand for several hours, a requirement for preparing and running the games at conventions. We prepared an inventory of all his materials, troops and weaponry, by wars- mainly naval, WWII and the American Civil War.  He shared these lists with fellow-wargamers and was able to sell most of the troops, terrain and gaming materials.  Some painting supplies were given to our granddaughter, and remaining materials were sent to other hobbyists. I often joked with friends that it wasn’t easy to provide a home for thousands of troops, nor to see them go off to an unknown future. When I asked Doug if it was difficult to give up the studio and its materials, he looked at me with surprise. He was ready to let it go, he said, and for a while enjoyed gaming on the computer. Also, I think that since most of the troops were sold to friends, he draws comfort from knowing where his troops are living now and that they are cared for.

Another divestment is now underway. We are selling our Florida condo apartment. We use it infrequently, mainly to visit relatives who live in Florida. There are upkeep costs for an aging property that don’t seem worth it anymore, and it will be less costly for us to stay in hotels or with family when we visit. We always knew we would not be “snow birds,” who spend extensive periods of time in Florida during the winter weather. But this is not as easy as the other divestments; my mother-in-law had collected many fine Asian furniture and decorative pieces, some of which I grew to cherish. My husband and I have selected several pieces we want, including paintings that Doug’s father made and a lovely egret lamp that I always thought was quite elegant. As for the rest, my children created an inventory of items and they have selected what they wish to take. The rest will be sold, given away or donated. 

This process has got me thinking about divestment generally. Giving up the homes I lived in has not been very difficult, perhaps because each change was something I chose, and I am happy to be living in Manhattan.  Many of the items I cared about I have kept or I will be able to visit at my children’s homes.

And I have thought about those items I will never be divested of, like my graduate degrees and publications. I no longer have certain important-sounding job titles, and except for some consultations, most of my former work life has ended. I am still coming to peace with the loss of these sources of identity, but I take comfort in knowing that these experiences and accomplishments will always be part of who I am. And who I am is not these material things or accomplishments.  

There is also another type of divestment that has been underway for several years – responsibility for family holiday get-togethers. I used to host Thanksgiving, Hannukah and   Passover, and while I experienced some anxiety about the preparations before each event, I was always pleased that the family was brought together and had a good time. Thanksgiving was the first to go: my step-daughter is an accomplished chef, loves this holiday, and we began going to her home for Thanksgiving several years ago. Hannukah was next to go. With our children inter-marrying, the holiday became Chrismukkah, and when my daughter-in- law wanted to invite family to see her new home around the holidays, she asked if I minded if she did this annual holiday party… and said she would be willing to do so going forward. Fine with me I thought, I could attend and enjoy the family gathering… and I get to bring the potato latkes. The Passover Seder was the last to go. Last year shortly after my daughter got married and bought her first home she asked if she could make the Passover Seder- her favorite family tradition. I was ready to cede that holiday too; I had already given her recipes for mandelbrodt and haroset… two of our family favorites. The first Passover Seder she and her husband hosted was a virtual one by Zoom, due to COVID – but we did the traditional Seder- we all took turns in reading the story of Passover (the Haggadah), and everyone had all the ceremonial foods, including their own wine and matzohs. Over the past year we managed to have an in-person Thanksgiving 2020 (requiring everyone to get COVID-tested beforehand), but Chrismukkah was a virtual celebration and Passover 2021 was again virtual. Hopefully we can all get together soon for these celebrations.

So what is left after these many divestments of homes and their contents, of work and their activities, and of holiday functions in the family? I know there was some temporary sense of loss and sadness when some of these changes happened; I was wistful when I left the home where my children grew up and felt regret when I retired from my research position and when I stopped making holiday dinners. But I don’t experience these changes as losses now. Although they contributed to a sense of fullness and richness in my life at the time, I don’t feel that I have less now, but rather that I have more. On a material, concrete level I have more space and time to explore people and places I care about, and engage in writing and reading about things that interest me. I especially like having the time to craft new activities that my past scheduled life provided little opportunity for. And on a nonmaterial level, I have not divested of anything that is principal to who I am- engaged in life, with loving relationships, and now with the time for reflection and appreciation for what I have and what I am planning. Thus, although I am divested of many things, I’m not done yet, and I feel ready for new and varied types of acquisitions.

Passover Passed Over?

I have participated in an annual Passover Seder all of my life. I grew up in an Orthodox Jewish home, and my mother prepared this ceremonial meal most of her married life, until she ceded the activity to my older sister. After I married, even though my Jewish religious affiliation changed to Reform and then to Humanism, I continued this annual ritual. I looked forward to it as a special time for the entire family to come together. As an adult, I especially enjoyed reading the story of Passover in English – as a child it was in Hebrew, with little understood by any of those participating (including me).

I prepared the Seder meal when we had a home in the suburbs and continued after we moved back to NYC. Last year, in March 2020, I started planning what I anticipated would be the last Seder I would take responsibility for. Although it was fun to have the family, and sometimes friends, join together and read through the story of Passover (the Haggadah), I found that preparing a multi-course dinner for anywhere between 12 and 20 people was something I was ready to give up. I asked my newly-married daughter, Dara, who loves the Seder ritual, to take it over starting the following year, and I began planning for the upcoming  event.

The Seder was to be in early April, on the first night of the Passover holiday. But in late March, after talking with the family, we decided to cancel the in-person event. The fear of COVID transmission and warnings against large gatherings led to the cancellation, especially since some family members are seniors and some are immune-compromised.

Dara took over preparing a virtual Seder. She created a modified Haggadah, and we all prepared by having wine and matzoh ready. As is our family’s custom, we each read part of the Passover story. At the end, as we said good-bye, we discussed having an in-person Seder at my daughter’s home in 2021.  She was pregnant at the time, and we all anticipated having a new youngest family member to play with.

Much has happened over the past year, in the pandemic and in our family. COVID cases are declining and the vaccine is now widely available. But not everyone in the family has been vaccinated and large gatherings are still discouraged. And so we are planning our second virtual seder.

My daughter will again be hosting the virtual ceremony, with her new son our youngest attendee. I know that as we read about the 10 plagues described in the Haggadah, we will all be thinking of the plague that still threatens our world but that thankfully seems to be abating. 

Four members of our family contracted COVID over the past year. In the Haggadah, Passover refers to the Jews who were passed over from the consequences of one of the plagues. I am grateful that our family was “passed over” in terms of serious post-COVID consequences, and all are now almost fully restored to health. I am sad for those who were not so fortunate.

I am also reminded of another meaning of “passed over” – my daughter “inheriting” the responsibility for the Passover Seder tradition, albeit in a virtual state for now. This is a reminder that change is part of life and it is good when there are young people eager to continue family traditions.

It also seems fitting after this difficult year to celebrate the meanings of Passover as a celebration of freedom from oppression and of the coming of spring. We have all come through a difficult time- oppressive to many- and can now be hopeful that the worst is over. And next year may my family, and all others, be able to celebrate holidays together in person.

Amen.  

Just in Case

As I look at many of the items I have accumulated in my home over the years, I see things that I have kept that are not very useful. As a child, when I left home my mother would remind me to take certain items just in case.  This included a hankie or tissue in my pocket and, if rain were predicted, an umbrella. Perhaps that is why there is a wide range of items that I maintain or keep in case I might need them. There are several examples:

Jars of sauces and condiments in my refrigerator that are almost full, and were used once for a special dish. I haven’t used them in months, but I keep these jars just in case I decide to make something again that requires that ingredient. My daughter recently visited and threw out those that had passed their expiration dates. I have started a new collection.

Plastic forks and spoons that are included when I order Chinese food. These implements never get used, as I order this food to eat at home and I prefer my own silverware. But I can’t throw them out- just in case I decide to go on a picnic one day or someone calls who needs them.

I have more than a dozen glass flower vases, of various colors, that came with birthday and other gifts I received over the years. I will never need them all simultaneously, but they are quite pretty, so I keep them. They will come in handy in case I win a major award of some type and am inundated with flowers from many admirers (vases not included).

My address book has telephone numbers and addresses of people I haven’t contacted in years.  Sometimes I update my listing and consider excluding information for those I know I have no interest in contacting. But I don’t… just in case.

Then there are those lotion bottles in my bathroom that I have gotten as gifts. Who knows? Maybe one day I won’t be able to buy the lotion brands I prefer, and I will be glad I kept them.

Much of my closet space is taken up by clothes that I don’t wear – the ones that don’t fit anymore, and the suits and heels I used to wear to work. I keep them for different reasons: the clothes that don’t fit just in case I get a serious disease and lose a lot of weight, and the work clothes, should I decide to come out of retirement and start a new job that requires them. These possibilities are highly unlikely, but I keep the clothes… just in case.

I have a friend who has many closets in her large pre-war apartment and, much to her children’s amusement, has saved many unusual items through the years. Early in 2020, at the beginning of the COVID pandemic, she found several N95 masks, stored for many years, for her own just in case needs. Her children were grateful she had them.

I have decided, for now, that I will keep all my just in case stuff that doesn’t spoil or lose potency. When I run out of space I will toss them out.

Case closed.

To Dye or Not to Dye

I started dyeing my hair about 20 years ago. I have very dark brown curly hair, and when gray appeared it was quite obvious. My mother, who had a similar hair color and texture, had very little gray up to her death at 85. Given our many physical similarities, I thought my hair would also remain dark throughout my life.  When gray started coming in, it was clear that would not be so.

Through my forties I never spent much effort- time or money- in anti-aging remedies: no special face creams, cosmetic surgery, or hair coloring. The idea of growing old gracefully appealed to me, especially since I never imagined that I would become an older woman. But when I saw the gray coming in, I felt that it made me look (prematurely?) older. I started having my hair dyed.

This continued throughout my professional working life. As my career advanced, many of my colleagues were younger than me. I felt it was important that I continue to dye my hair so as not to be seen as older. I planned to stop once I retired.

I retired almost two years ago, and my resolution lasted about eight weeks. Once I saw substantial gray coming in I reverted to hair-dyeing.

I realized the truth of something a friend said years ago. Her husband once told her “you don’t have to keep dyeing your hair for me.” Her response was that she wasn’t doing it for him. I too was no longer doing it for colleagues, this was something for me.

Within a year of my retirement COVID restrictions caused the closing of hair salons. I considered this an opportunity to see what my natural hair would look like, again thinking I could now age gracefully.

A friend reported doing an informal survey of the women she knew, asking what would be the first thing they would do once the COVID restrictions were lifted and shops reopened. The most frequent response was to go to a hair salon to get a haircut and get their hair colored! We both laughed at that. But not for long.

As my gray hair took over more territory,  I felt older whenever I looked into a mirror. My hair salon opened about three months into the COVID shutdown period and without too much wavering I was back to hair dyeing.

But now there’s another concern.

My hair is thinning and I wondered if hair dyeing was exacerbating the problem. Would I have to choose between more gray hairs (if I stopped dyeing) or fewer but dark hairs?

My hairdresser tried to reassure me and said she recently changed to a hair color product that used natural ingredients, and was good for my scalp. I looked it up, and I’m not sure if sugar and rice milk can actually reduce hair loss, although they sound yummy for a pudding. This did, however, give me some comfort that the problem might improve.

My hairdresser reported that several of her clients had recently talked about hair loss and were told by doctors that it is stress-related, brought on by the COVID pandemic. Since I recently got my second vaccine shot and my fears of getting COVID have declined, this encouraged my hopes that my hair loss will decline.

Also, when I told my hairdresser that I was upset by the hairs I saw every day on my white-tiled bathroom floor she had a suggestion: Change your tiles to a darker color.  There’s an interesting thought.

So for now, I will continuing getting my hair dyed, hope that the new natural hair dye product will reduce hair loss, and not change my floor tile.

After all, I think I always knew that dyeing was inevitable.

Enjoying the Quotidian

During this COVID time, at least until vaccinations are widespread, I follow public health recommendations and am less likely to leave my home. Many things I loved doing—visiting friends and family, eating at restaurants, going to the theater—have all become less frequent or even impossible. And being retired, I am not working from home. But I now find that there are things I enjoy doing that I never paid much attention to before. These are generally unremarkable tasks, considered quotidian. (What a lovely word for something that means ordinary).

In the past—when I was busy with children, work, husband, family, dogs, etc., —many of the activities I did were quickly done and forgotten. But I have decided to take notice and fully enjoy the ordinary. And I find they use all my senses.

These activities range from simple pleasures, like putting on sweatpants when I know I am staying home. Easy on and off, soft to the touch and with pockets for tissues. What a pleasure. And as a bonus they conceal the COVID weight I am gaining.  So comfy.

I have never enjoyed preparing elaborate meals, but now I find that I can happily anticipate making even simple dishes. Before going to sleep at night I sometimes look forward to a breakfast I especially like- eggs over easy with a muffin and jam. Mmmm. I can almost taste and smell the eggs cooking as I fall asleep.

I have an arthurium plant on my dining table that was a Mother’s day gift last year, that continues to grow new leaves and, more slowly, new beautiful red flowers. I eagerly look at it every morning to see the new growth. The bright and shiny new leaves and flowers stand up so straight and proud, almost as if they are eager to see me too.

And there is much pleasure from my Google Nest. I love that I just say OK Google and she is ready to answer any question at any time. I can ask about a clue for a crossword puzzle, the weather, or anything I wonder about based on the day’s news or a passing thought. I even ask her to play music—lately this has been Oldies or Jazz—often stirring pleasant memories of the past.

And there’s another ordinary activity I now enjoy more. I have the time to read the newspaper in the morning. It took a while before I realized I could linger over the newspaper and think about what I am reading, and didn’t need to rush to dress and start the day’s tasks. It feels like a gift of time.

I also enjoy contacting friends or relatives I haven’t seen in a while, usually through a text message or phone call. Their response sometimes indicates they have been thinking about reaching out to me too. Sharing updates about our lives, and even learning that they too are struggling with the COVID constraints, nourishes me. Why didn’t I contact them more often before? Another gift of time.

Having dinner with my husband is something I have been doing for over forty years. It was often in a rush, so that I could quickly clean-up, spend time with our children, or finish a work task. I no longer have to rush through dinner time. We can enjoy a more leisurely meal, often with wine, talking about the day or future plans. I also take pleasure in postponing the clean-up.     

When I was working, I made weekly to-do lists of my work tasks. Now, I like making a list every morning of the day’s ordinary tasks and plan their estimated times. This includes daily things like writing in my journal and reading, or episodic tasks like ordering a gift for an upcoming birthday, doing an errand in a local store, or calling a friend. Enjoyment from creating these lists comes in several ways- I like to organize my day, I often get pleasure from completing the task, and I always get pleasure from crossing it off my list as the day goes on. And there’s one more gain- for many of the tasks I can decide that I want to do something else, and I simply postpone or cross it off undone. I like being in charge of what I do.

Playing word games are my secret guilty pleasure. Doing crossword puzzles, playing on- line Words with Friends and Scrabble– I enjoy them all. These activities are not on my to-do list, I suppose that’s related to the guilt. I usually do them throughout the day, in-between the listed tasks, sort of like intermezzos between courses.  They provide me with a brief sense of satisfaction (especially when I do well) before I go /or don’t go, to a next task on my list.

I have decided that while there continue to be major and sometimes extraordinary things that I do—like write a story for publication, spend the day at a museum, or provide work-related consultations with former colleagues— I will also notice and enjoy the quotidian pleasures.

Across the Ages

My newest grandson, Lucas, is five months old, and has become responsive to my talking and smiling. He spends much of his waking time, when he is not being fed or diapered, kicking his feet in the air, waving his arms, and making cooing sounds.  What a pleasure to watch. I eagerly anticipate spending time with him as he grows up.

 As Lucas is at the very beginning of his life, and I have gone through the majority of my life stages, I thought about our differences and similarities and wondered whether we can connect across our ages. I think we can.

The differences are many, but I expect some will diminish.

 Lucas has no words yet, and I am a logophile. I love reading, writing, and especially finding the right words to express my thoughts.

            I will teach him new words, and how to play Scrabble, my favorite game, as we both age. And as he becomes familiar with new technologies or new terms entering our culture, he can teach me those.  

He can’t walk. Actually he can’t even crawl yet. I love to go for long walks, and to visit new museums and other places.  

As we both age we will come to a point where our mobility capacities cross… his little boy legs will mean he can’t cover too much distance too quickly, and this will match the distance I can cover with my flagging energy. I hope we will go to many places together.

He sleeps a lot now but will soon require less sleeping time, and will nap infrequently. I am busy and active throughout the day.

But  I am approaching the time when infrequent daytime naps will help me feel refreshed – another good match to anticipate.

And there are similarities which are likely to become differences.

He eats often, about every 3-4 hours. As he gets older he will need to eat less frequently. Since I retired, and am home more due to COVID, I too eat about every 3-4 hours, whereas I used to just eat at mealtimes, about every 6-8 hours.  

Until the COVID lockdown is over, I expect my new eating pattern will continue. But this means there is another similarity – we both seem to be outgrowing our clothes!

Our diets are somewhat similar now- rather bland. He is just on milk, and I prefer mild, non-spicy, delicate flavors. This will definitely change, as his parents love many cuisines, some of which are quite spicy, and they will introduce him to all of them.

And I will introduce him to some of our family’s favorite foods, like bagels and noodle pudding, in moderation of course.

Lucas’ hair has been thinning since his birth, and it will soon begin filling in, as his parents both have thick hair. My hair is thinning as well, but I expect the change for me is unidirectional.

So who cares about hair anyway.

We both stay home much of the time now. I have traveled extensively, both for work and pleasure, but COVID and retirement means that home- and family-based activities have increased. This is likely to continue. Lucas’ Mom’s profession is in International Development, and his parents look forward to showing him the world. He has much travel in his future.

I look forward to hearing about his travels when he gets home.

So as this new year begins, with hopes for a long rich life ahead for my young grandson, I know that our love as well as our differences and similarities will connect us across our ages.

Don’t Save the Best for Last

I have a new New Year’s resolution. I have dusted off the old ones- related to weight loss and increased exercise- they are always easy to make, though not to follow. I now have a new one. Saving the best for last has been a pattern of mine that I plan to change.

At meals I often save the best for last. If I cut up my steak and there’s a particularly juicy-looking piece, I put it aside, and eat the rest first. When having a fruit salad, I eat the smaller and less appealing pieces first, and then the luscious piece of strawberry or melon at the end.

When I read the newspaper, if there are several articles I want to read, I leave the one I am most interested in for last. I read what I think I should be up-to-date on first—about the latest political wrangle, or latest atrocity in a part of the world that’s far away. And then I read the story about a politician or issue I have strong feelings (positive and negative) about. This is followed by the op-ed page, and I begin anticipating one of my favorite pieces- the daily crossword puzzle. I save that for last, after my reading is completed.

In COVID time, when my trips outside of home have become less frequent, I do the smaller household tasks, with not much payoff, at home first.  I leave the outside trips that I enjoy more, food shopping or bus rides to visit a friend or museum, for later in the day. I follow public health guidelines regarding masks and social distancing, I feel I am protected from transmission, and I am eager for these outings.

I have a few friends I enjoy talking with. When I plan to call them, usually in the evening, I will wait until I finish any needed tasks- whether it be cleaning up after dinner or looking through the mail.

Why do I do this? Maybe I enjoy the anticipation of something to look forward to, so I extend the anticipatory time by delaying having what is most desirable. Also, in terms of tasks, if I get the little things out of the way, then I have the rest of the time for the ones I enjoy more, and I believe I can do them with no time limitation. Maybe I also believe that old Frank Sinatra song The Best is Yet To Come.

But I know, and often admire, others who act differently. They start their meal with the best piece of a dish, they look briefly at the front page of the newspaper and go directly to what really interests them, and they do the tasks they care most about first- leaving the less desirable ones for later.

And then there are the bigger things in life, like trips to visit friends and family, or places that have been on my To Do list since I retired. While COVID has interfered with our ability to do those kinds of things, we should all be vaccinated in 2021, and those trips will be possible again. It’s time for me to review that list and prioritize my plans.

I now find that saving the best for last may no longer be the best strategy for me. When I get to the end of the meal, I may feel full, and not enjoy that tasty morsel as much as I had anticipated. After reading all the parts of the paper that I think I should be informed about, sometimes I feel so depressed and hopeless that my energy has declined and I skip the puzzle. And when I put off tasks I am most interested in doing, whether it’s a trip outside of my home or a call with a beloved friend—I sometimes find that I have run out of energy—and don’t do it.

My resolution is that I will change my ways and go for the most pleasurable first. Why not? Perhaps the best can be now— and it is up to me to choose to make it that way.

Holiday Repairs

Technology is wonderful and makes life easier. But it can also be frustrating when something stops working and requires attention. This year, the end of year holiday period has required many repairs.

My husband and I went to Florida in November for a five-day trip to visit my ailing sister. The first night in our condo I realized it was too warm. I also noticed some light brown spots on the bathroom walls. What is that? The thermostat said the internal temperature was 80 even though it was set at 70. Calling on our contractual home repair service the next morning, we made an appointment for two days later. We learned that the AC compressor had burned out and we would need to get a new AC. Thankfully this could be done the following day. We then got someone to come to check the brown spots for that fearful enemy of all homeowners, mold.  We learned this was only surface mold related to the AC problem; it could be fixed by washing the walls and painting them.  

We inherited this condo from my husband’s mother about 20 years ago and have kept it for short vacations and a place to stay when we visit my sister. We decided to purchase a new AC, to be installed the next day, and arranged to have the mold washed down and walls painted after we left to return to our home in NYC.

This holiday repair was a costly surprise and took up a significant part of our brief trip, but was manageable. We were glad that the problem was identified soon after the AC broke down; otherwise there would have been more damage to the walls.

It was nice to be back in the comfort of our NYC apartment. About a week after returning I was making broiled salmon, and found that something was wrong with the oven broiler. Lying on the floor to get a better view, I saw that the flame was smaller than usual (I also noticed some pills and other miscellanea under the oven and cleaned that out quickly). Fearful about a gas leak problem as well as an inadequate flame for cooking, I called the building repair service the next morning. By the afternoon someone was there and changed the igniter for the broiler. Easily fixed, it’s fine now.

About a week later, my husband had a problem with his computer, and couldn’t access the internet. We have a contract with the Geek Squad at Best Buy for electronic repairs, so we called and a home visit was set for three days later. After almost two hours it was fixed. What was the problem? My husband’s computer had a virus that he had allowed in through an email. The Geek warned him against opening emails from strangers. He also noted that my husband’s computer was a bit old, about four years, and a new one would be needed soon. Given the recent AC expense, we will hold off for a little while on that purchase.

Satisfied that the computer issue was resolved, we sat down on our sofa to watch TV, but there was no picture! What? This had never happened – there was sound, and we could change the stations with the remote control, but the screen was black, nothing, nada.

I started wondering if my devices had conspired to stop working together, perhaps taking an end-of-year break (pun unintended). But even if this were so, I needed to get things fixed.

A call to our cable provider, Spectrum, led to the usual steps: they sent a signal to the cable box, and when that didn’t work, they rebooted it, but that didn’t work either.  A cable repair person came the next day and said the cable box was fine, but the problem was the TV. He offered to do some trouble-shooting and proceeded to pull out the plug from the TV, waited a few minutes, and plugged it back in. Amazing- the picture was back. He noted that the aging TV was probably declining in function and we would soon need to buy another, but not right now. Wow- the fix was simple and we could postpone a new purchase.

So why is all this worth writing about? Technology is great until something doesn’t work. When this happens I feel frustrated and irritated, especially with so many things not working in such a short period of time. But I know that having patience, a service contract, service repairmen in my building, and funds to cover replacement needs can take care of most problems. Appreciating that I am fortunate to own lots of devices, some of which will at times need repair, is also helpful. So is having a sense of humor.

But these experiences, especially coming around holiday time, got me thinking about other repairs that are needed, especially with some people I care about.  Some of these involve connections that have needed repair for a long time. Family schisms, lost contact with old friends, the needs of a family member with compromised health or one at risk of losing her job because of the economic fallout of COVID- all of these need some repair or assistance I can provide. For all these there are no quick fixes, no repair services to be called or new purchases to be made. Other resources that I have must be called upon. Some things will likely be easier to fix than I expect, others may have unexpected damages and be more difficult to mend. But this COVID holiday time has made me realize that some repairs shouldn’t be postponed.

Rock Collections

I needed to call the telephone company, buy a carton of milk, return a friend’s telephone call, pay a bill… what happened to the day? I accomplished several items on my To Do list, yet there was a feeling of dissatisfaction.

I remember taking a course on time management and the trainer used some props- a fish tank, a large boulder, and many smaller rocks, or pebbles.

The trainer started by putting the pebbles in the tank, one by one, and showed that once they got to a certain level, there was no room to fit the boulder. He then emptied the tank, put in the boulder first, and slowly added pebbles one by one. It was easy to see that many pebbles would easily fit around the boulder.

I enrolled in this training to  enhance my management skills at work, and this demonstration made clear that if you saw the tank as the time you had in the day at work, you would accomplish the most if you started with the big items, and didn’t use up the space with little ones. The training was successful.  I learned that if I had a big task looming, like a grant proposal, or a research paper, I should tackle that first at the start of the day, and then as the day proceeded I could fit in the smaller items, like returning a phone call, reviewing a colleague’s research concept paper, meeting with my administrative staff, etc. If I started with all the small items, I would run out of time for what was most important to me.

When I retired, I looked forward to having ample time for my various interests. But I didn’t. I soon realized that I need to apply that training to manage my time. I have identified some boulders that I am eager to have in my life, including writing blogs and other essays, reading books for pleasure that I never had time to do, and exploring NYC museums and neighborhoods.  Although COVID has brought some limitations to the NYC exploration task, there are many places that can be explored using face masks and following social-distancing recommendations.

When I started undertaking some of my boulders, pebbles often get in the way. These were not trivial tasks, and included things like food shopping and paying bills, and each seemed like it could get done in a short time period. But there were always several of these every day, and together they filled up a big part of my fish tank. And then there was no room for my boulders.

No more! I have a new approach and it seems to be working.

At the beginning of each week I plan my boulders, generally in three- or four- hour blocks of time, for at least 3 days during the week. I have that as my first activity for that day, unless there is an urgent pebble or medium-sized rock to be taken care of.

I also designate some time each day for pebbles, both planned (like bill-paying) and unplanned (an unexpected phone call). If I am in the middle of a boulder I may pass on the unexpected pebble. But if it’s something I know I will enjoy, like a chance to have coffee with a cherished friend, I will do it and come back to the boulder as soon as I can.

That’s the plan. So far it is working, and there is room for boulders and pebbles and unanticipated activities.

I hesitate to end this posting this way, but forgive me reader, I can’t help it:  while my plan is not set in stone, the logic is rock-solid.

Embracing the Aging Role

I have had many roles in life— daughter, mother, wife, scientist, neighbor, friend, and others. In every case, I had some choices about how to play the role, even though there were some requirements or expectations.  Now that I have moved into an aging role, I’m not sure how I want to play that part. So as a social scientist, I looked for some guidance.

The sociologist Talcott Parsons wrote about the sick role, and its having particular rights and obligations based on social norms: Rights include being exempt from normal social roles, and, since the condition (being sick) is not within one’s control, the person has less blame and can be taken care of by others. Obligations involve making efforts to get better, including seeking help and following medical advice.

At first I didn’t see how Parsons’ work about the sick role could apply to the aging role. Unlike the temporary nature of many sicknesses, there is no possibility of recovering from aging. However, as I get older, I realize that there are certain rights I can claim as part of being in the aging role.

 First, I have the right to exempt myself from many of my prior social roles, and allow others to take care of them. For example, I used to hold family get-togethers (like birthdays, Passover Seders, Thanksgiving, Hannukah) in my home, taking responsibility for all preparations including most of the cooking. Now that my children are older, they have taken over most of these holiday celebrations, and I usually make or buy a contribution for the meal. I like this change: I have no stress involving meal preparation, and it gives me more time to spend with family at the event.

There are other activities that I exempt myself from by paying others to do them for me, like housecleaning and laundry. In addition, living in a well-serviced apartment building, there are porters and other staff who do things for me – from repairs of appliances to changing a ceiling lightbulb (so my husband or I don’t need to climb a ladder). It’s nice having these things taken care of by others.

Until recently, I thought that I should always be able to do all these activities. But I no longer feel that I am lazy or shirking responsibilities or that not doing them are signs of weakness. Letting others do them is my right as part of the aging role. And a bonus is that there are people eager to do these activities for me.

There are also some obligations in the aging role. But rather than requirements, I see them as voluntary and recommended activities. Since there are people who may need to help take care of me if I have medical needs, I am obliged to take of my health. This past year I had an annual check-up, had cataract surgery, got hearing aids, and was treated for Paget’s disease (to prevent bone fractures). Taking care of these health needs is helpful to me and improves my quality of life, and lessens possible burdens for people who care about me. And if I became ill or disabled, I would need to study up on the sick role too!

But wait, something’s missing. Parsons described the sick role as a form of societal deviance, and focused on norms regarding its limitations and requirements. But the aging role is not deviant, and it can provide an opportunity for many life choices, especially after retirement. In a previous essay I wrote about “Successful Aging” and the importance of engagement in life, and I am discovering what that means to me. Playing the aging role is much more than a set of rights and obligations, and I have found that I have many choices of how to play that role. And I can change them over time.

Several aspects of the aging role that I have developed include finding creative outlets, like writing essays and creating this blog. To improve my writing skills I am taking a writing workshop and reading more. I am also exploring parts of NYC that I never had time for, like visiting museums (I found that during COVID time they are much less crowded). I also walked in new areas of Central Park, where I discovered waterfalls, woods, flower gardens, turtles, castles, and extraordinary views. I have reached out to friends and family members to encourage and support them, especially my children and grandchildren. I didn’t have much time to do that when I was working, and now I am getting to know them better — and they me. I also spend more time with my husband, and our appreciation for each other and the life we have together (based on over 40 years of marriage) has grown. And I have become more active in my community, getting to know others who are also playing the aging role. We share information, laughter, and ideas, and provide support when a loved one becomes ill or dies. My community involvement also includes efforts to enhance the living circumstances in my apartment complex.

I have concluded that I will embrace the aging role. According to the dictionary the word role has many synonyms, including part and purpose. I didn’t get to choose this part- it simply arrived. But I can choose how I want to play it- how constricted or expansive. The role has rights and obligations, some of which are beneficial to me and I will follow those social norms. But most importantly, the role has given me an opportunity to make choices and create my own complex, multi-layered part with purpose. After all, not only am I playing the lead, but it has a limited run and there are no revivals.