Wednesday, 01 October 2008
Ninety-seven and Counting
[EDITORIAL NOTE: Voting for the September 2008 Excellence in Storytelling Award is now open. The ballot is in the right sidebar and titles of the nominees link to the stories. Voting will remain open until Tuesday, 7 October.]
By 87-year-old Georgie Bright Kunkel, freelance writer and standup comic
Don’t you hate those surveys that ask you to list your age in categories ending with 60 plus? Well, I won’t tolerate it so I write in: 60-69, 70-79, 80-89, and 90-99. And if that survey that I took to find my Real Age is accurate, I am supposed to live to 113.
In future, I might add 100-109 and 110-119. It is as if the world thinks that one drops off the edge of the earth at 60. Yes, retirement age used to be 60 and most all those reaching that age could be seen rolling down the highways of life in their campers and trailers with bumper stickers reading: We Are Using up Our Children’s Inheritance.
Nearing the month of October all those Land Rovers were heading in a line to Arizona or points thereabouts to soak up the sun that seemed to avoid the Pacific coast in the gloomy clouds of fall and winter. Sunbirds they were called. I always wondered what they call Arizonans who come to the Pacific Coast in the summer to avoid the scathing heat that beats down so mercilessly on the sand where they come from. But then I always wonder things like that without any answers forthcoming.
One of my cousins has spent much of her life on the road traveling all over the U.S. to gloat that she has been in every state in the union at least once. She even brought her dog and cat along. She brags about writing her life story with her cat as protagonist. Of course she took advantage of that place where four states meet and you can boast that you could stand on two states while you bent over and put your hands on two others.
Well, my cousin is still living in a trailer at age 97, on the outskirts of Port Angeles where she parks her car in front for the times she needs to shop at the supermarket or drive to her mailbox.
Yes, she makes up the nearly five percent of ninety-year-olds who still get behind the wheel. Once she had a blackout and her physician couldn’t find any cause for it but cautioned her that driving was not in her future. She blurted out with that spark in her eyes that has never dimmed, “How am I going to get my groceries and my mail?”
Well, she was not to be denied as the doctor reneged but warned, “You can drive to the store but that’s all.”
The other weekend, I determined to touch base with this cousin once more when my husband and I visited our son’s new family lodge in her neck of the woods, traveling through wonderful tree-lined highways with the water glistening through the trees at every turn.
She was able to attend my 88th birthday party dressed in her bright red over-blouse and black skirt and admitting that she had shrunk four inches since I saw her last. But nothing could dampen that same spark in her eye or the impish grin that she maintained through telling the stories of her youth. Especially the story of Grandma McLaughlin, a grandma that we both shared.
She was the only one who knew where Grandma hid her egg money that she had saved. Grandma knew that Grandpa was a soft touch and loaned every spare penny when any neighbor needed it so she had hidden enough so that she could be assured a proper burial.
While everyone was hunting for Grandma’s stash, my cousin had run to the cupboard under the stairs and crawled back into the farthest corner retrieving the drawstring bag full of money which was hanging on the wall. “Here it is. Granny told me where she kept it.”
As my cousin told me the story, the little girl in her was still there remembering that granny was strong and independent like we both are today. We came by it naturally.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. Instructions are here.]
Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post
Comments
Great post! Kind of makes you wonder who you can trust with your egg money these days?
Posted by: Granny Annie on Oct 1, 2008 9:24:01 AM
She reminds me of my great-grandmother, who was fiercely independent, even though she lived on a farm in a small community in southern WV and probably never traveled further than 30 miles in any direction. I never knew where she kept her egg money!
Posted by: kenju on Oct 1, 2008 11:36:20 PM
