THE END OF GRIEVING

 

During the past year, some of my old friends have been widowed. It is saddening to watch them go through the early stages of grief--denial, anger, bargaining, depression--and to be helpless to offer them little but my affection and sympathy. Though I know that in time they will reach the final stage of grieving, acceptance, they are not ready to believe it. Nor should they. Each widow needs to experience the process herself.

April 28 will be here soon. On that date twelve years ago—a lovely, sunny day with all the promise late April brings--I took Harold to the Alameda ER where he had been treated successfully many times. Two hours later, he was dead. I stumbled out to the car in a pouring rain. Like my own life, the whole world had changed.

That first year was the hardest, and when April 28 came around again, I seemed to relive all the events of his death as I lighted a yahrzeit candle in his memory. The idea that I could ever accept life without him seemed impossible.

Over the years since, of course it did happen. Not only did I reach acceptance, but am whole again. This year as always I will burn a candle for him, smiling at the memory of happy times in our thirty-two years of marriage and feeling grateful that healing did occur. L’chaim! To life!  

 

THE HIGH COST OF DRUGS

Like most elderly people, I take several medicines every day--for hypertension, arthritis, and other ailments--and hate to think what life would be without those drugs.

Recently I learned I have pancreatitis, a painful disease caused by a sluggish pancreas.  Just getting the diagnosis took several months, so finally learning the source of my pain was a great relief, especially when some samples of Creon (pancreatic enzymes) helped greatly. Then my doctor broke the news that Creon (manufactured by Abbott Labs) costs up to $10 per capsule. No generic version is available. As I need four capsules a day, this drug could cost me nearly $1200 a month, nearly my entire Social Security income! I do have a good Medicare Part D insurance plan that would lower the monthly cost to about $240, but even that is a lot of money for me. I do not qualify for Medi-Cal or other subsidies; the government thinks I have too much money, which I find amusing. (Most of my retirement savings were spent long ago for my late husband’s surgeries and hospitalizations—his bills would have come to more than a million dollars without Medicare--but that’s another story.)

In desperation, I plan to order Creon from a drug company in Canada. That is a clunky, slow process, and possibly a risky one, but it looks as if I can get my medicine for about $50 a month. At this point, that actually seems like a bargain.

Considering the enormous amounts that pharmaceutical companies spend on advertising (in JAMA and other medical journals, as well as those irritating TV ads), I think they can well afford to make needed drugs more affordable. Luckily, my illness is not life-threatening, but many people endanger their lives by cutting pills in half, delaying having prescriptions refilled, and by other cost-saving actions. When will Big Pharma and the government wake up and realize they may be killing the geese that lay the golden eggs?

MARGARET MEAD, MARRIAGE, AND ME

Many years ago I read one of cultural anthropologist Margaret Mead’s books (I think it was Blackberry Winter) and found myself amused by her comments on marriage. She thought women should marry three times in their lives—as Mead herself did—the first time for the innocence and passion of young love, the second for a home and stable family life, and the last for having the right person to grow old with. Being young and idealistic at the time myself, I thought her advice was extremely calculating. Now that I am elderly, I understand her wisdom. Though I did not intend to follow in her steps, my life has turned out much as she suggested.

When I was only twenty-one I married my first husband, who had been my college sweetheart and seemed like an ideal marriage prospect. We had a lovely wedding in the college chapel that seemed like the prelude to a long, happy married life. Seven years later we were divorced. Neither of us had been mature enough for the responsibilities of marriage.

In my early thirties I married again, with a more realistic view of what the future might hold. At first we argued often—our personalities were very different—and we even separated for a while, but gradually we achieved a good, stable marriage. Though we were unable to have children, we always had a much-loved Scottish terrier, and usually a cat as well. Over the years we grew closer and closer as we shared happy and sad times. When he became extremely ill with diabetes and heart disease, I was happy to be his caregiver. He died after only thirty-two years, and I grieved for a long time.

Now, in the autumn of my own life, I have had the great fortune of finding the ideal man to grow older with. We would not have appreciated each other at all years ago, partly because I am nine years older than he is. He was a free spirit of the sixties, and at that time I was a very serious textbook editor. We had little in common then. Today, he is the perfect companion--a retired science teacher who is as passionate about the environment as I am, and who also enjoys travel and reading. We both have some health problems, and help each other cope with them. Though we have everything we need, our lifestyle is simple and frugal. Departing a bit from Mead’s plan, we have not married for insurance reasons.

So, in retrospect I have to admit Mead had the right idea. In an ideal world, a couple might go through her three stages together, but longer life spans, divorces, and deaths make that impossible for many of us. In our messy real world, a woman is very lucky if she can find the right three men at the right times!

THE VIEW FROM THE TOILET WINDOW

 

Returning to California from a long cross-country trip, we stopped in South Lake Tahoe for the night. Affordable campgrounds were already filled, of course. Fortunately, we had heard of a casino that allowed RVs to stay all night in their parking lot (probably with the hope that the drivers were unlucky gamblers). We went to the casino and were directed to a narrow spot at the back of the lot, between two behemoths with running generators—not the sort of sylvan spot we ordinarily look for, but it was free, and we were tired. We backed into the space and went to bed.

The next morning we looked out through the windshield at the parking lot, shuddered, and began getting ready to drive off. As I brushed my teeth, I happened to look out the bathroom window, and was delighted to see a lovely evergreen forest behind us, with no casinos or vehicles in sight. Just the sort of view we wanted!

Since then we have seen many beautiful views from our toilet window. Sometimes they are just part of an entire vista to be seen all around us, but often we find them deliberately. It’s part of the strategy of choosing a site—if we must back into the site, as is usually the case, then we make sure that the view behind us is enjoyable. Even if we must stay in a crowded campground with RVs on each side of us, we can usually find a way of framing a decent view in the toilet window. Often it is just a matter of choosing a site at the outer edge of the campground, which also leads to having a quieter, less crowded site.

In the Tuolumne Meadows section of Yosemite National Park, we had a view of the campground host’s rig from the front window, which was less than inspiring. From the toilet window, though, we could see Mount Dana. Not only is the mountain a beautiful sight, but my partner had hiked to the top of it back in the seventies. He can no longer do that much hiking, and seeing it in this way brought back some happy memories.

We paused for a while on the Beartooth Highway in Wyoming to have a picnic lunch and to look at the myriad alpine wildflowers. Soon some bikers appeared outside the toilet window. Though we don’t enjoy the sound of motorcycles, we could hardly begrudge them the pleasure of enjoying the spectacular mountain scenery.

When my plane landed in Winnipeg after an emergency return to California, Thane was waiting for me in the View. He had spent several hours at the airport museum (the museum had a uniquely accessible Lockheed Electra that he was able to tour), and watched one plane from the toilet window.

The day we visited the Hoover Dam in Arizona was rainy and windy, not a pleasant time for standing outside taking photos. Fortunately, the toilet window provided a good view of the new bridge over the dam, lessening the time we needed to brave the elements outdoors.

So, at the end of a road trip, it is depressing to put the RV in the garage and look through the toilet window, where the only view is of shelves laden with paint cans, broken appliances, and other assorted junk. And that helps gives us the motivation to take to the open road again.

 

BOOK CLUB ESCAPE

After moving to El Dorado County I wanted to meet some people with similar interests, as I had done in previous places. This turned out to be harder than I expected, partly because I don’t really fit in here. I am a San Francisco Bay liberal; the majority of people here are conservative Republicans, Tea Party members, NRA supporters. I am a Unitarian; the closest Unitarian church is an hour’s drive away. Though that might be all right on Sunday mornings, it is in the evenings that conspiracies are hatched and friendships are formed. (I can no longer drive after dark.) Most Sierra Club hikes are too strenuous for me. Having worked for fifty years, I had no intention of looking for a job! The closest library branch needed volunteers; I tried that for a while and enjoyed it, but our travels make it hard for me to commit to any schedule. That also eliminated many other possibilities for volunteer work.

We spend much time in the library anyway when we are not traveling, and one day I noticed that the county library has a book club that meets once a month in the morning. That made me hesitate. My picture of book clubs has always been of uneducated readers reading lightweight books and making inane comments, or of members using the club as an excuse for gossiping about local events and drinking a lot of wine. However, I was getting desperate for intelligent companionship. (My partner provides a lot of it, but I was eager to meet other women.) So, I attended the next book club meeting to see just how bad it was.

It was a pleasant surprise. About a dozen intelligent people gathered to discuss that month’s selection. One of the librarians, Tamela Entrikin, was the leader. She had thought carefully about the book and, like a skilled teacher, encouraged us to comment without dominating the discussion herself or letting us wander too far onto other subjects. Tamela gave me a list of the books to be read in coming months. While I had read a couple of them, the rest were unfamiliar titles or books I wanted to read. Traveling would not be a problem, as members often cannot attend for various reasons. Thanks to my Nook, I could even download books on the club’s list and read them while traveling.

That was three years ago. Since then I have enjoyed getting to know the other members and reading many of the books. Though of course some have been on topics that did not interest me, in general I have liked rediscovering old favorites or being introduced to unfamiliar authors. If not for the book club, for instance, I probably would have not read Marja Mills’ The Mockingbird Next Door, which led to my interest in the Harper Lee mystery. (My last post gave the details.) Our reading Olive Kitteridge introduced me to Elizabeth Stroud. Being a retired science writer, I have been disappointed that we read too few science-related books, but you can’t have everything. I can find those books on my own.

Perhaps the greatest benefit, though, has been meeting compatible people. El Dorado County, though a cultural backwater in some respects, does have a friendly, knowledgeable community within it. I am grateful to have found it.

THE MYSTERY OF HARPER LEE

For me, the quest began with my book club. Someone in the group suggested that we read Marja Mills’ The Mockingbird Next Door, the story of Mills’ living next door to Harper and Alice Lee in Monroeville, Alabama, as she gathered material to write about Harper for a Chicago Tribune article.

Harper, of course, is the reclusive author of To Kill a Mockingbird, the Pulitzer Prize winning novel about racial prejudice and social classes in small-town Alabama in the thirties. Until going into assisted living several years ago, Harper divided her life between a New York apartment and the house in Alabama that she shared with her older sister, Alice. (Alice died late in 2014, at the age of 103; Harper is 88.) Alice, a practicing lawyer into her nineties, was the first sister to meet Mills, and they rapidly became friendly. According to Mills, both granted her extensive interviews, told her many things off the record, and knew she would be writing a book. She went to local restaurants with them and met their friends.

Mills’ book captivated me and made me curious about Harper herself as well as about To Kill a Mockingbird. For some reason I had never read the book, though I had seen the fine movie with Gregory Peck starring as Atticus Finch, a courageous lawyer who defied the restrictive customs and bigotry of his town by defending a black man who was accused of raping a white girl.  (Finch is based on Harper and Alice’s own father.) So, I got the book from the library and read it along with The Mockingbird Next Door. Better late than never—it is wonderful.

For about fifty years readers have wondered why Harper never wrote another book. She has been somewhat vague about her reasons, alluding to her abhorrence for publicity and her feeling that she had said what she had to say in Mockingbird. Those reasons make perfect sense to me, but few others (including Mills) are satisfied. There have been many questions about her, many intrusions into her privacy.

In 2011 Harper denied authorizing the Mills book, saying Mills had befriended her elder sister and then taken advantage of Alice’s kindness. The story grows murky at that point. Harper had a stroke in 2007; did her personality or memory change, making her turn against Mills after encouraging her to write the book? Some acquaintances have said that she is greatly changed since the stroke; others,  that she is as sharp as a tack.  Was Harper so weary of publicity that she reneged on an agreement at the last minute? Or, did Mills actually write far more about the Lees than they intended?

Last week another surprising twist in the story appeared. Go Set a Watchman, a manuscript that Harper wrote before Mockingbird, has been discovered. It is similar to Mockingbird, but written from the adult viewpoint of Scout (Atticus Finch’s daughter).  Her editor at Lippincott, Tay Hohoff,  persuaded her to revise the manuscript so that it is told from Scout’s point of view as a child. Some massive changes must have been needed! Harper has issued a statement (through her current publisher, HarperCollins, which is rushing the book into print) expressing her delight that it still exists.

Tonja B. Carter, Harper’s attorney, says the manuscript came to light as she was going through papers in her office—the office where Alice had formerly practiced. According to Mills, Alice was organized and disciplined, but Harper was not. Alice handled Harper’s legal and financial affairs for many years, and no doubt dealt with Lippincott. If Hohoff had returned the Go Set a Watchman manuscript to Harper, Alice would likely have ended up with it. Thinking Harper might one day regret not writing another novel, Alice might have prudently set it aside in a file to be opened only after her death. The timing seems suspect to me: Alice died in late 2014, and the manuscript had turned up earlier that year. Someone may have assumed Alice was going to die soon and opened the file a bit early.


All of this is my speculation as a veteran mystery reader, of course. I have no connection to the Lee family, and no inside knowledge of the situation. (I did live in the Yorkville area of New York in 1970, when Harper was living there also.) But, what a mystery story! We may never know why Harper chose not to write another book. I rather hope that she has confided her reasons (assuming they amount to more than what she has claimed) to a friend or to a secret journal that can be opened after her own death.

LAUNDRY: A MUNDANE MOTORHOME MATTER

If any part of traveling in a motorhome requires some creativity, it is the laundry problem. Some people try to avoid going to Laundromats, which surprises me. Googling for “RV laundry” brings up millions of sites, mostly ads for washing machines and dryers that can be installed in RVs.

Are they serious? In our Class C Winnebago View, every cubic inch must be carefully used. I cannot imagine spending hundreds of dollars on appliances we (an older couple with no children) need no more than once a week when we are traveling. Even for families with children, having a washer and dryer on board seems like a bad idea.

Some of the ideas for frugal washing en route are quite amusing, if not very practical sounding. Some RVers put their dirty clothes in tightly sealed containers of water and detergent, then let the motorhome’s movement slosh the laundry around. After rinsing, the laundry must be wrung out by hand, then hung on a clothesline (providing the campground allows it, and if the travelers are not spending the night at Walmart). Is this a good way to spend part of a vacation?

Some items are too fragile to be washed safely in many machines; others are made of wool or other fabrics that must be washed in cold water and dried flat. Must even the spoiled RVers in Class A behemoths travel with clothes that need special care?

Altogether, my reaction is, Suck it up, people! Think like a European: Don’t wear white or pastels. Take a few sturdy, washable clothes that can go anywhere, and keep them as clean as possible. (This works best with well-made clothes from L.L. Bean and other reliable sources. Cheap clothes will usually let you down.) Take lots of underwear, though. It takes up little space, and always having clean undies will make you feel good.

When you need to do some laundry, find a Laundromat or campground laundry. Have your own supplies of detergent and fabric softener to keep down the cost, and a paperback book or e-reader for entertainment. You can often use two or three machines at once, shortening the waiting time.

We have actually enjoyed most of our Laundromat visits. Often there is a coffee shop or library near by, sometimes with Wi-Fi. Chatting with locals can be a way of finding out about an area. Once we took turns shopping in an antique shop next door. If nothing else, laundry time is a break from driving, and a chance to walk for a while. With a little creativity, you can make wash day part of your explorations on the road.

 

 

THE MEDITERRANEAN DIET

When I visited Spain in 1971, among the many things I enjoyed was the food. Gazpacho, paella, flan, huge salads, fresh fruits, sherry, sangria—they were all wonderful. Some were new to me then; others were familiar. Pastries were tempting, too, but having recently lost weight with the Weight Watchers program, I stayed away from them.  I was less sensible when it came to wine, and drank too much of the cheap Rioja that was served everywhere. It did not agree with me.

A few years later, biologists Ancel and Margaret Keys wrote about the health benefits of what is now called the Mediterranean diet. The Keyses based their research on observations of people in Mediterranean countries who were healthy in spite of eating high levels of fats as oils. Physical exercise is also considered an important part of the traditional Mediterranean way of life. The diet lowered a person’s blood level of cholesterol and blood pressure, leading to less heart disease. Ancel Keys died in 2004, a few months before his 101st birthday. Margaret died a few years later, at age 97. It appears that their personal diet contributed to a long life span.

The diet’s popularity grew slowly, with opposition from various sources, but by the 1990s it had become widespread as a way of losing weight and lowering the risk of heart disease.

• It is high in olive oil, nuts, herbs, spices, fish and poultry, legumes, fruits, vegetables, and unrefined cereals.
• Moderate amounts of low-fat dairy foods (mostly cheese and yogurt) are allowed, along with eggs and wine. (Keys himself enjoyed espresso as well.)
• Little red meat can be eaten as part of the diet.

All of this seemed very familiar to a former Weight Watcher. I was already used to eating lots of fish and poultry, drinking two cups of skim milk a day, and eating lots of fruits and vegetables. The diet is no trouble to follow in general, as the foods are appealing and satisfying. I occasionally fall off the wagon and have some Moose Tracks ice cream or chocolate candy, but climb right back on. Chocolate is good for the soul!

The Mediterranean diet can be easily followed by RVers on the road, too. Farmer’s markets, even supermarkets, now provide an abundance of delicious produce, local wines, and other heart-healthy foods that can be prepared in a galley. It is much harder in restaurants because of all the desserts, dinner rolls, and other refined foods that are part of nearly every meal. The only real problems I have are my partner, who is a vegetarian (I usually eat meat or fish only in restaurants, as cooking separate meals in an RV can be difficult); and staying away from wine, which I love but which conflicts with some of my medicines. Fortunately, wine is an optional part of the diet.

 

THE UPSIDE OF GROWING OLD

Everyone is aware of the downsides of growing older—the physical deterioration, the loss of short-term memory, medical and other financial issues, and so forth. But researchers are beginning to find that there are advantages to aging, too. Articles on the Web refer to improvements in the “middle-aged brain” over the teen-aged brain, for instance. (They often ignore what happens as the “middle-aged brain” becomes the old brain, though.) Even for the elderly, improvements are demonstrated in calmness, happiness, and finding multidimensional answers to questions.

I hope the research is right. Heaven knows, we aging people need all the encouragement we can get. For myself, I take these results with a grain of salt and a sense of humor. Here is my own list of advantages of growing older:

• I can take an afternoon—or morning or evening—nap without apologizing.
• No one expects me to do anything more athletic than walking.
• When I forget a name, I can simply shrug and say, “Senior moment!”
• I stopped dyeing my hair a few years ago. Whom was I trying to kid?
• I can add a column of figures without using a calculator.
• I will never again cook dinner for more than six people.
• If I take a class, it will be for my enjoyment. There will be no grade or report card.
• Driving my RV does not make me feel ridiculous.
• Having seen some of the alternatives, I no longer fear sudden death.
• Flat, comfy shoes.
• I can parallel park, and can drive a car with a manual gearshift.
• Social Security and Medicare may last through my lifetime.
• I can flirt shamelessly with young men without seeming like a cougar.
• Alumni events no longer seem like competitive sports.
• In restaurants, I can choose simple foods I enjoy rather than overspiced, overpriced “fusion foods” or other trendy items.
• I remember when TV was worth watching, with Ernie Kovacs, Alistair Cooke, and Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca. And the old radio programs, such as Fred Allen, Jack Benny, and the Inner Sanctum.
• Senior discounts, especially the National Parks Golden Age pass.
• People hold doors open for me.
• When the newest word-processing program comes out, I do not have to learn how to use it. I learned each one, starting with WordStar in the eighties. Enough, already!
• When I play my old vinyl records, I can feel part of the current retro trend.
• There is no pressure to go upscale; I can happily continue to downsize.
• I enjoy the AARP magazine.

Being young had its moments, but so does being elderly. For everything there is a season.

 

Advantages of aging, aging brain,

RURAL LIFE, AGING, AND THE WEB

About fifteen years ago I wrote Recollecting the Forties, a small book about my childhood in rural Michigan in the 1940s. Looking back in 2000, I judged rural life rather harshly. I had never been able to romanticize country life as some writers do, and felt in general that urban life was preferable. As soon as I graduated from college, I happily moved on to a city. For the next fifty years, living in Chicago, New York, and San Francisco, I took advantage of urban delights.

Today my attitude has changed. It has been several years since I moved away from the San Francisco Bay area, and there are few things I miss. Living in the Sierra Nevada Mountains seems exciting enough at this time of my life (and in fact, the Wild West atmosphere here sometimes is more exciting than I care for). The ethnic restaurants that once charmed me in San Francisco appeal to me less now than ordinary Midwestern foods from years ago. I still love the museums that can be found only in cities, but frequent travel in a motorhome makes it possible to visit them without being limited to those in one area. Many years of concerts and theaters were enough; now I am content to watch Netflix movies or DVDs from the library (which are also considerably cheaper than live entertainment!), and to listen to recorded music.  Books—hardbound, audiobooks, e-books—are all easily available from the local library or through interlibrary loan. I can write or edit more easily than I would have dreamed possible in the pre-computer years..

Much of what I can enjoy today is made possible by my computer and e-book reader. Luckily, the World Wide Web is available almost everywhere. When traveling in our motorhome, I can access it in libraries or coffee shops. Some campgrounds have Wi-Fi also.

Older adults like me are statistically less likely to use the Web than younger people who have grown up with modern technology, but our use is growing rapidly. When the population ages further, we will change the statistics. As with any unfamiliar skill, training is essential. For those of us who have no grandchildren, many senior centers and libraries offer classes that help new users learn to navigate the Web. Though education and affluence are important factors in computer use, as prices continue to drop, most people of all ages will become more likely to go online.

The Web can’t do everything for us. I miss the Unitarian churches that seem to be found only in cities, and e-books are not as satisfactory as real books in many ways. Convenient as email is, it does not have the permanence and appeal of stationery and handwriting.

There is also a down side to the Web, of course. It can be a tremendous time-waster, but so can television or trashy reading. Novice users can quickly stray onto sites where they may be scammed, and training needs to include cautions about that danger. All in all, though, the Web can make life for older adults much richer than it was in the 1940s.