CRONE WISDOM

Now in my late seventies, I have been around the block a few times. I can’t pretend to have learned everything about living the good life, and too many things I spent a lot of time or money on are no longer useful, at least for me. For example:

• Learning how to perform a hysterectomy on a Drosophila.
• Reading with the Evelyn Wood method.
• Spotting typos in galley proofs of hand-set type.
• Learning WordStar, WordPerfect, and several other obsolete word-processing programs.

 

Some other things I have learned, though, have continued to serve me well, and seem important enough to pass on:

• Taking notes in Pitman shorthand.
• Baking with a solar oven.
• Doing basic housework for sanitation (but you don’t have to eat off the floor).
• Balancing a chemical equation.
• Doing simple statistical tests to evaluate medical claims.
• And so on.

More importantly, I know the importance of friendship, and appreciate my friends more than when I was younger. Though I am an introvert who prefers spending much time alone, I have learned to place a higher priority on friendship than on accomplishment or education. (Many years ago I told a close friend I was too busy writing a paper to go for a walk with her. When she committed suicide a week later, I felt partly to blame.)

Another important lesson I should have learned when young is that drinking alcohol does not increase happiness. For me, as for many people, the first glass of wine does lead to relaxation and peacefulness; but it too frequently leads to a second glass or more. Being an editor in the sixties meant taking authors to dinner, working at National Science Teachers Association (NSTA) and other conventions where our textbooks were advertised, and otherwise being in situations where drinking was encouraged. I have a low tolerance for alcohol and should have avoided it altogether; instead, I did a lot of silly or stupid things while under the influence. When I went back to grad school later, and became a freelance author and editor, I switched to drinking wine (especially the inexpensive Trader Joe’s “two-buck Chuck”), but began a habit of ending every work day with a glass or two of wine.

That much wine sounds harmless, and for many people it is healthful, but I realized it was more than I personally can tolerate. Occasionally I would mention my concern to a doctor, and invariably got the “That much wine is good for you!” response. So, I went on with mild but daily drinking. It helped me ease the pain of becoming a widow. I’m not sure what the final effect would have been. Only when I met my partner in 2005 did I have to face the issue. He is a teetotaler who feels strongly about drinking, and I knew I might lose him. So, I stopped. It was a little hard at first, like giving up on an unreliable friendship, but now alcohol holds no appeal for me at all. Why did it take me so long to learn such an important lesson? As the saying goes, "We grow too soon old, and too late smart.”