Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Blessed Assurance

My sister and I were talking on the phone the other day and got to remembering the time we visited Grandma and sang hymns for her. She was close to a hundred years old, her body and her mind grown frail. But she was still Grandma and she had not forgotten who we were or anything like that. She was oh so glad to see us. After we had reported briefly any news about our families and our lives, we soon ran out of conversation. So somebody got the idea to go to the organ there in her livingroom and sing hymns from the old hymnal. Vicki played and I sang and sometimes we harmonized. It was a wonderful time for us two sisters who had not spent enough time together over the years. And for Grandma, a deeply religious woman, it was heavenly.

We picked out a few hymns and did a pretty respectable job of performing them. Then Grandma spoke up and said, "Have you got 'Blessed Assurance'? That's my favorite." We immediately looked it up in the hymnal and launched into a darn good rendition. All three of us were pleased as punch when we finished, Grandma giving us a little round of applause. Vicki and I continued with a few more favorites, and then Grandma spoke up again. "Have you got 'Blessed Assurance'? That's my favorite." We carefully explained to her that we just did that one, remember? Grandma quietly said, "Oh," and smiled sheepishly. We continued on with a couple more, really enjoying ourselves now. Then Grandma spoke up again. "Have you got 'Blessed Assurance?' That's my favorite."

Vicki and I looked at each other, grinning and trying to stifle our giggles. Then, reading each other's minds, we both said, "Sure, Grandma, I think it's in here somewhere." And we sang it again, for the first time.

Grandma couldn't remember what songs we had sung five minutes ago, but she could remember that Blessed Assurance was her favorite hymn. She couldn't remember if she'd had breakfast, but she could remember that God loved her and would one day soon take her home.

God did take her home at the age of 101. She left me with some of the warmest memories of my childhood, and one especially Blessed afternoon in my adult life, when singing hymns with my sister was the best and most important thing in the world.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

The Condo BBQ

The summer residents of our condo complex had an impromptu post-4th of July get-together last night. Well, it was sort of impromptu. Actually on the real 4th of July my husband Buddy was outside grilling some chicken when one of the neighbors cruised by and jokingly said "what time is dinner?" My husband made some casual remark that it was too bad we hadn't planned a little party among the few residents left here for the summer. Oh well, too late now. After which he jokingly said, "Let's just celebrate the 7th of July instead." Ha ha. To which the neighbor replied, "The 7th. What's that, Saturday? Okay!" Ha ha. And he drove off.

So yesterday morning the phone rang and it was the neighbor. The very same one. Now he's one of the few original owners in the complex and he's kind of the go-to guy for little repairs and various other favors anyone might ask. Not that it's his responsibility, he's just a good neighbor, and he gets things done. So he said, "5 o' clock barbeque at the clubhouse. Tonight. I've got hamburgs, hot dogs, there'll be a pan of beans and some pasta salad and chips. Okay?" Buddy said "Okay!" And of course, yesterday was indeed the 7th of July. I guess there was no "ha ha" for neighbor Curt.

There are only 44 units in our Florida complex and during the summer most of them are vacant because the snow bird owners have gone North. There are only about 10 units left occupied, so it was easy to call the remaining few and get the party together. It was a good turnout - 18 people - and a great time. The burgers were grilled perfectly, and there were TWO pans of baked beans, plus a three bean salad so of course there were a few jokes that after all these beans, there would be some "entertainment" later on. (If this goes over your head, then you're probably way more refined than the rest of us.) Among the merry bunch was our 92 year old neighbor, Marguerite, who I have mentioned before. She's not only the resident "cookie lady", she also tells great stories, and remembers every detail. Some stories are poems she has memorized, but more often than not, the stories are real. You know, things that have happened to her. We all know she goes to "the center" (the Senior Center) every day and that she takes cookies to share, and that she takes a turn on the dance floor when her arthritic legs allow. She loves to talk about "the center" and its cast of characters, so we weren't surprised when she loudly started to tell a little story about it yesterday. It went like this:

"I was at the center the other day and I was settin' there listening to the band and watching everybody dancing when a fella I know real well came over to ask me to dance. So he stood there in front of me and said, 'Well Marguerite, how are your knees today?' And I answered him, 'Well Bert, if you were as stiff as my knees, we could have a lot of fun.!'"

WELL, Buddy just about choked on his hamburger, and our other table mate, a nurse friend of ours, almost spewed her three bean salad. She got so red in the face I thought she was going to pass out she was laughing so hard. Several others at nearby tables heard the story too and I thought there'd be no recovering. And Marguerite sat there grinning away looking like the cat that ate the canary. She got us, but good.

Well after that there was watermelon and ice cream with strawberries and of course Marguerite's cookies, but that's all just a blur. Marguerite's punch line echoed in all our heads for the rest of the day. In fact later on last night while Buddy and I were watching a movie, which was not a comedy, I started to laugh all over again.

Marguerite will soon be moving to an assisted living community, and that's a good thing for her. She wants to do it, so it's not a sad thing, at least not for her. But what are we going to do without her? At 92 she's still the life of the party, and her cookies will be missed too. But we're already planning on visiting her there. I can't wait to find out what kind of stories she'll have about this whole new cast of characters. I just hope they're ready.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

55 But Who's Counting?

Yesterday I went to a doctor who specializes in bone loss. Seems I have an 8% bone loss in my spine and 7% in my hips. This I discovered after my "bone density test" which was done on the same day I had my most recent mammogram, which required an order from my gynecologist which I got when I went for my most recent close encounter with the stirrups for the purpose of my annual pap smear. I'M A WALKING CLICHE`! Bone loss, pre-diabetes, hot flashes and aching joints. And yet, I don't feel like I have any problems. At 55, I actually feel pretty young. Am I in denial, or do I just have a really good attitude about aging?

I mean, what can you do? You got two options: either you get older or you die young. I know what I would choose, if I had a choice.

And yet there are otherwise intelligent people out there claiming with a straight face that "aging is a disease, like any other." This just kills me. I even heard one bright chap take it a step further and claim that DEATH is a disease. Oh man. Beam me up, Scottie, what planet am I on? Maybe life itself is a disease. How about that? Maybe we should just try and cure life. Oh my goodness, I think I've stumbled onto something. Oh it's nothing new really, in fact the recent success of the book and video project "The Secret" has garnered a huge following of hopeful people who want to believe the premise that the universe is a big catalog: just put in your order and you get it. You think I'm exaggerating? It actually says that. So apparently there are people, and I guess lots of people, who believe that the "universe" can cure life. Hmm. Without writing another whole book arguing the point, which I think would be easy to do, I will simply say this: "The universe" did not create itself. Therefore it has no creative or curative powers of its own. However, God did create the universe and everything in it, so yes, He can cure your life.

But I digress.

Back to my aging body. Although I don't want to become one of those senior citizens who dwells on her ills, and in fact always SWORE I wouldn't, sometimes I just can't help myself. Especially when in the company of other women my age. We compare notes because it's still new to us. "How many times do you have to get up and pee during the night?" "When did you first start wearing reading glasses?" "Have you got a good dermatologist? I think I have a suspicious spot on my nose." On it goes. You don't mean to, it just happens. But it's okay. It's just life, and I don't know to what extent I want to "cure" it. Aging also means maturing and thank God for that. Aches and pains and forced exercise routines help develop patience and discipline. Days that are relatively free of joint pain and hot flashes feel like reasons to celebrate. A slowed pace generates an eye for details formerly unnoticed in the rush of things. Now don't think I'm perverted, but just today my husband and I witnessed two little lizards mating outside our lanai. Nature in action. How many twenty-somethings can say they've seen that? Huh? So even though I do use a special cream in a tiny little tub that's supposed to decrease those laugh lines, and I do dye my hair, the whole aging thing just doesn't seem like such a big tragedy. Okay, I'm lucky because people tell me I don't look my age. But see, there's another advantage to getting older - your wits get a little dull and you start believing the load of bull people tell you. All good.

So anyway, I guess that's all for now because I forgot what I was going to say.