ELDER MUSIC: 1955 Yet Again
A TGB READER'S STORY: Grave Stones

Holiday Edition: Whatever Happened to Wrinkled Spinach?

Here we are again at one of those three-day, holiday weekends – Memorial Day in this case – also known as the unofficial beginning of summer. Personally, I don't want to rush spring out the door three weeks before its time but no one asked me and the world continues to turn on its axis taking no account of my preferences.

This is the first time in several years I've remembered today's holiday. Retirement does that to you: without an external force such as an employer to organize your days or having others at home who depend on you, it feels like just another Monday.

That may change if Trump pardons some convicted war criminals as he has suggested he will do today. If he does, I doubt I'll forget Memorial Day again in my lifetime. Rather than the stately remembrance of U.S. fallen soldiers that the holiday has been all my life, it will become something less, something shameful.

Speaking of my lifetime, it's getting to be long-ish, 78 years at last birthday count. Any of you following my cancer updates know that the chemo I've been infused with every two weeks since January is doing its job, reducing the size of the cancer nodules and slowing their growth. No one can tell me how long this will work. Friday will be two years since I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer so I've already lived a year longer than statistics predict.

Being told you have a disease that will kill you in the not too distant future certainly is a wake-up call. For me, the largest question was how to spend the time that remains. With – happily – no bucket list, a large disinclination to get on an airplane ever again and plenty to hold my attention at home, I decided to keep doing what I do. Which sounds boring to a lot of people.

It is not. I produce this blog which involves some amount of work every day. Hang out with friends (as long as it doesn't involve an airplane to do so.) Read books. Listen to music. Watch movies. And the one that nags without let-up or any help from me: what does it all mean?

In recent days, that last one has been insistent and I will undoubtedly die before I figure it out.

One of my stock texts for this endeavor is Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by neuroscientist David Eagleman. I have mentioned the book before in these pages and dipped into its pleasures many times since it was published in 2010

Today, I had to give up trying to find at least one of the two copies I own which tells you something about my late-life filing capabilities. Here is blurb for the book that does a better job than I can of explaining its contents:

”In one afterlife, you may find that God is the size of a microbe and unaware of your existence. In another version, you work as a background character in other people’s dreams. Or you may find that God is a married couple, or that the universe is running backward, or that you are forced to live out your afterlife with annoying versions of who you could have been.”

My personal favorite sets the premise that we can choose whatever we want to be in our next life. Sounds good, right? Except – important disclaimer: Eagleman uses the example of a horse: when you have made your choice and as your body is transitioning into a horse, there is a point at which the brain becomes enough less human and more horse that it can no longer understand or reverse the change-over. You're stuck being a horse indefinitely.

That one makes me laugh every time – it is much like some life events that don't work out the way we planned – usually without such dire consequences as the horse story, but not always.

I have an afterlife idea of my own.

Almost every day now, I sense that I am no longer of this world. I have no idea who the top music stars are and there is, I suspect, not a single current song I could identify.

Most nights, I have no idea who the guests are on late night talk shows nor on Saturday Night Live.

Why do about three-quarters of all movies (and many TV shows, too) involve half-humanoid killing machines who use a lot fire and high-powered explosives to cause uncounted, horrific death, but no dialogue?

Why does most clothing for women have no sleeves? Or pockets?

Why do online publications supply weekly lists of the the top 75 best books to read “this month”? Lazy movie reviewers do the same, 100 best movies. Don't they know too many choices is no choice? I wouldn't read a list of anything that long – it has no meaning. And why does Netflix give me a list of new releases for this month at the end of the month?

There is more but it's all in the same vein. I am not comfortable in our world anymore. I don't feel like I belong here. Maybe it's something in the water. Just the other day, TGB reader Lynn Lawrence, referring her enjoyment of antique china tea cups and embroidered table cloths, had the spirit to say it out loud in the comments:

”I know, I know, it sounds like I'm pining for the good old days. Well, I am.”

So I think I've got an afterlife for people like Lynn and me: we return to this world at a point in our previous life when we were most comfortable with the culture. No embarrassment. No shame. No feeling we don't belong. Just a place where we are welcome as we are.

The sense of belonging that I miss is just one small corner of the discomforts that seem to be piling up. Some have zero importance to life in general even if I feel the loss. Don't laugh, spinach is one: It used to be wrinkled, had a much stronger spinach-y taste than the new flat kind and you had to be sure to rinse off all the sand it had grown in before using.

God help me, it is with such as this that I squander my time.



Comments

I never thought about the spinach conundrum, but you have a point.

Keep on keeping on, Ronni! You're a marvel.

Why, in all the awards shows, are women dressed 3/4 naked and the men are covered from their wrists to their necks down to their ankles. Don't the women just "get cold" or the men "get really warm"...... it just seems so strange. Let's show 1/2 to 3/4 of the men's bare skin and cover up the women from head to toe and see how long that trend lasts. It is all so illogical.

What it's all about, I have no idea, but I believe it's about something -- that life, you, me, some planet more billions of light years away than I can imagine--has meaning. I believe this for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I can no more imagine it's all meaningless than I can grasp the notion of billions of light years.

And - my mother used to say, "It's not my world anymore." I've tried to own the world I live in - smart phone, Facebook, involved in a small way in local politics, engaged in stuff that interests me - but, like you, contemporary cultural reference points elude me completely. And I don't much care.

I've spent years now visiting loved ones in nursing homes. I believe that, when people say they want to go home, they mean a time more than a place -- a time of health, of possibilities, that feeling of belonging you describe. I like your idea of What Comes Next as that place of belonging. Mine will involve bellbottoms and a purple suede fringe vest.

Your last paragraph had me laughing this morning.

The thing I miss about the good old days is being young. I miss being able to walk normally, to run if I want to feel the joy of a Spring morning, to be able to live a normal life without gadgets to keep me going. I am grateful for the gadgets, of course, but not for the need to use them.

Not only do I not know the names of the celebrities or the latest song hit, I simply don't care. But why, oh why, does the name of a long forgotten teacher or acquaintance suddenly appear in my midnight thoughts? It's as if my mind is on rewind.

The feeling that the world has changed beyond recognition is probably a near-universal experience of old age, with the possible exception of traditional societies where old people have the power and high value is put on doing the same things the same ways. But even then, things change. People invent and create things. Tribes and families squabble and split. Catastrophes and opportunities spur adaptation.

I find myself surprised not only that the world has changed but that it has veered in such an unforeseen (by us) direction. Not the sort of humane, tree-hugging mysticism we envisioned in our youth (a luxury ironically supported by a war economy) but a world of robots and human obsolescence, and of extreme political and economic polarization, and of anxiety soothed by opioids, entertainment, neo-tribalism, and authoritarianism.

I would like to be able to see this world through a young person's eyes, as the new normal. It's hard to imagine that for many people, THESE will be the good old days.

Darlene, you’ve got it right; the best part of the “good old days” is we were young! Thank you, Ronni, for saying out loud what so many of us think.

There is certainly a point here; once retirement starts one is out of the societal mix. Holidays do become just another day. As my wife, E, says: "Every eve is Friday night and every day is Saturday.". Ronni, you're doing great and it is always interesting to read your thoughts. I, too,
have become an observer and only participate occasionally. By the way, what is popular in
music right now?

I'm with you on the spinach, really miss that wrinkly kind. It was the only type available for years and now this (with the STEMS) that too is tasty but not the same. As for the "good old days," bring 'em back!

The spinach thing has to do with different varieties that are grown for longer shelf life. The stuff has to be processed and shipped and sit on the store shelf for awhile and yet still have the color, texture, and taste that you will buy. Genetics play a role. I can almost guarantee that the variety of which you write is no longer grown and the seeds are gone.

Maybe, somewhere, someone is growing that vintage spinach. We have a peach grower here in the San Joaquin Valley who grows heritage peaches. He only has about 40 aces and none of the peaches come into the local market. They are all shipped to very fancy, pricey, farmer's markets and restaurants in the San Francisco and Los Angeles areas where consumers will gladly pay $10 a pound for that old-fashioned taste.

Yes, missing a time, people, ways, a time when we had more panache and power, I get that.
But what if we lived another oh, 75 years or so? What would we miss about now, today? I like to challenge myself with that. I would miss the brilliant lime green tree frog on the front porch, my wee dog companion, gathering hydrangea and making an alter for my brother who was killed in Viet Nam, the wonderful books to read.............and it's only noon. Who knows, more beauty and meaning may show up today. I don't want to miss it.

I am not a religious person, and I have never believed in an afterlife. My view is that when we die, everything ends. This does not distress me, but it has affected my day-to-day attitude about how I live. Getting older, perhaps having a chronic and debilitating illness, not having enough money, and/or watching family and friends die. None of this is easy, but I always have the choice about how I respond to these very difficult life events.

Personally, I do not want to live my life longing for what used to be. I don't want to miss today's experiences because I am mourning the loss of yesterday's experiences. Many philosophers have reminded us for centuries that one of the few constants in life is change. Some change comes quickly and frequently; other change takes a long time. But it is all ongoing. This is comforting to me, to know this, to incorporate this realization into my life. I just try to enjoy life each day while understanding there will be lots of surprises (some very unwelcome), because one day I will not be here to enjoy and experience the changes.

Oh, Ronnie, now you have me wondering which era you would return to!

I do have a great spinach story, though! When I was a young nun, our pastor at St Mary’s Catholic Church in Seattle, Kirby Brown, moved out of the rectory and into a tiny house he had bought. He was a great friend to us and had eaten many times at our place, so he invited us all for dinner at his new joint. It was one of the first big meals he had cooked by himself, since the rectory had a cook. The crepes were delicious, but the spinach salad was gritty! We crunched along, afraid to hurt his feelings by explaining how thoroughly you needed to rinse the Pike Place Market curly spinach!

Eventually he said, “ Hmmm I guess I should have rinsed this off better!” and we all completely lost it!

Change? Always.
Here in the UK we’ve woken up this morning to a European election result which has thrown ideas of left and right out of the window. The two main groups, Labour for the left and the Conservatives for the right have been dwarfed in importance by the brand new anti- immigrant Brexit Party versus the exciting groundswell and unstoppable optimism of the Green Party. The world will change as it always does. Depressing as the anti-immigrant policy is, the youth and determination of Extinction Rebellion and the Greens around the world make me very hopeful for World future.
And do I carry on in any way after I die? Only as a memory.

Good post, Ronni and wonderful comments. These are tagged and will be reread so long as my neck allows the noddings!

Our farmer's market has organic curly Bloomsdale spinach. Spinach is part of every day, for it's iron and other nutrients. It contains an enzyme, however, that makes absorption of its iron difficult but can be eliminated through cooking. So salad and steamed alternate.
-----------
What is life about? We get to choose.
Near my desk is a quote from Omar Khayyam which reminds me, although I think the translation is off, so feel free to substitute 'happy' for another choice of words, like content, joyful, grateful:

"Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life."

I hope this sustains my attitude as age keeps comin' on....

I remember that old spinach well, but don't miss it. (I could never seem to rinse it completely! While I love the taste of spinach, I detest biting down on grit.)

...I am going into hospice care RIGHT NOW. I don't know if I will be able to comment here again, so I want to say thank you to Ronni and to all of you, for making MY transition much, much easier.

I don't believe there's anything on the other side, but if I'm wrong about that, what I now choose to imagine as an alternative is my mother welcoming me with a warm, smiling, "Told you so, Sylvia."

Well you've read my mind again & so has Darlene. So what more is there to say except I'm in good company. And if I hear about one more electronic gadget, I'm going to try to scream or maybe just yell! Dee:):):)

I agree with the ones who say to live in this day and this moment, and be grateful, and yet I am aware that our health can change just as this old body of mine has changed over the 79 years I've been on the planet. Getting a new hip thingy on June 10th.

We had to get a new washer and dryer as the old one broke down and finally, this morning I had to read the instruction booklet to learn how to use it. I waited for husband to come home from his bike ride for a support system. I hate that I have to chose the settings by pressing the buttons for the computerized system to wash the clothes that used to be so simple for me to dial in by a knob....yes, my lesson for today: another change, which I will adjust to.

My beautiful, carin' sister-in-law barely made it to that "one year prediction" -- so happy to hear that the "one-year- thingey" is not sacrosanct (usage?) -- hope they shrink the "nasties' to zero. Enjoyed today's effort more than most others … but that's because you were more personal. Good luck … Emiliano aka Emiel aka "ole guy"

PS Never cared much for spinach at any time in my life … only ate it to be like "Popeye"!!

What has bothered me is the tech revolution which of course I am participating in but that has really changed everything.

I wasn't a huge spinach fan but do recall the old-fashioned kind. I don't really miss being "young" (20s-30s) so much as I do being "able" (40s-70s) and being useful in/to the world. I don't think human bodies, in general, were designed to last much longer than 80 years. With hats off to Darlene and others in their late 80s-to-90s, I'm often convinced that my 82 Y/O body is reaching its functional expiration date. I still perform all the "ADLs", kitty care and most housekeeping chores. Hope it stays that way until my demise.

It is what it is. . .

Sylvia’s comments made me smile and touched my heart.

I can't remember whether I mentioned this to you before Ronni, but the Japanese film "Afterlife" was a film from 1998 that I so loved.

Where we get to live forever in the moment that made us happiest.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/After_Life_(film)

I must get that book you mentioned.

XO
WWW

Ronni, thanks for sharing your thoughts in today's offering. Agreed!! I'm in sync. Try & find a classical radio station while driving where I live....impossible. They call what they have to offer music? Wow! What about the clothes (or lack thereof) that young girls wear. How about the penchant for pumping up behinds and breasts? Like looking in those magic mirrors at an amusement park! What about civility...starting from the top in Washington. Gee, now I sound like a very old crotchety woman. I happily admit to it. Wishing Sylvia all the best hospice care has to offer. Will miss her sharing her thoughts.

Ronni - glad to hear you keep on truckin' with this blog! I too don't bother/am not interested in most pop culture these days - and sometimes I am so amazed that despite all the pretty godawful changes to our culture, some "old fashioned" traditions still persist, like kids playing Little League, or girl scouts selling cookies or younger people actually looking to be helpful to someone with grey hair. "People still do that??" I ask, amazed. That things that used to be familiar now seem like they are some artifact in a museum is an indication of how much I feel alienated from our current culture - and I am relieved that I am not the only one.

I just looked it up - there are 2 types of spinach: smooth and wrinkled. I guess most stores/restaurants prefer to buy the smooth -- big surprise!! THAT has to be some kind of metaphor for our youth-oriented culture!!

love and hugs,
Chris

I don't worry about an afterlife; I don't happen to believe there is one. And that, of course, makes the present important. "It's a gift. That's why it's called the present."

Spinach. I don't recall a curly kind, but I've rarely purchased it fresh. I remember the horrid green slime my schools used to serve and it was years before I ate spinach. I bought a frozen generic or store brand once and it was full of sand. I've only purchased brand names since. Fresh, of course, is delicious in salads and I do buy it now, but only for salads.

Ronnie, you reached into my head again, didn't you? I've been feeling kind of depressed and sour-pussy lately, and you were a wonderful antidote! I'm going to go out and garden later and hope I don't fall down and hurt myself.

I don't miss that wrinkled spinach much, but I do miss those little pats of bubblegum with a comic around them that you could get for ONE PENNY. I also miss grape popsicles, the 5 & 10 cent store, and women's clothes that are becoming and don't expose most of their bodies. Plus, I miss being able to call the operator to get help.

Oh well. Who cares? I'm just glad we've had cool weather this May and nothing really bad has happened nearby. Seeing the president almost makes me gag, and reading the headlines is as far as I can go with the news. And every now and then I find a young person I can have a real human exchange with, and it gives me hope.

There are two "Regina"s posting here. That is hard to believe. I was in my teens before I met another Regina, now I know at least a couple, and now there's another one on this blog. I hope I don't sound snitty by saying I was here first (I was), but the new Regina is much nicer than I am. Just sayin'.

I don't care for 3-day weekends, especially the summerish ones. I'm not a fan of summertime, in general. However, Memorial Day is always memorable because 41 years ago, May 27th 1978, was my first day without a drink of alcohol in many years before that, and I was only 32. So I do celebrate it, if only by remembering how glad I am that I stopped drinking so I know what's been going on for the last 41 years. Some of it was not so good, but some of it was joyful indeed, and I was present for it, instead of "lying down," or "not feeling well," or whatever I called it.

Apropos of nothing, at age 73, I have started using the sterling silver for every day. I have to wash it by hand instead of throwing it in the dishwasher, but so what? What am I saving it for? Thanksgiving? I've asked a few young people if they know what a set of sterling silver is and I get a blank look. Okay, well I'm not leaving it to any of them. I am not listening to their music either because I don't know whether it's good or bad or what the lyrics are. I just listen to the classical station which we are lucky enough to have 24/7 in Seattle, and sometimes a little jazz.

So happy to be checking into this blog on most days, Ronni. So glad you're here. So glad.

Regina B.

I miss many things, most of them people. But the city I grew up in, Seattle, only remotely resembles what I remember, so I am happier where I transplanted myself, Walla Walla. But please don't move here. My Seattle family home is truly is gone replaced by a multistory office/shopping center. I too wish to cover up the girls more especially my granddaughters. Sigh. I wore those "up to my panty-line" skirts when I was young but covered up my boobs for what that's worth. My parents never mentioned it!?! One of things I'm missing the most is when summers weren't choked with wildfire smoke for 2+ months. Seems symbolic to me of what's happening in our country and the world. Well, that was nice and grim. I search for the meaning but it escapes me too.

This one hit me right in the guts !! It's exactly where I am. I watch old CSI episodes that I missed because of my busy life and kids every evening! I pop into a Facebook page that reminisces about the 1960s (and find a lot of kindred people there). I go on two new Websites dedicated to my home town and find messages from old friends I haven't had contact with in 60 years. And, like you, listen to loads of 1950s and 1960s music. These things are the primary ways I spend my afternoon and evenings.

I think I've chosen to do these things, among other similar quiet things, as it's really quite soothing which I much need. Probably because as a born and life-long activist hell-raiser, I'm frustrated by today's foreign world -- especially the political realm in which I was so active for so many years -- and can't throw my whole self into anymore! I don't know any other way to handle this!

I want to just re-join the universe when I die. Have already made arrangement to be cremated and my ashes to be part of the source of nourishment for a young tree sprout which my sons will plant in the wilds of a West Virginia hill where I spent a lot of my childhood summers alone and at peace.

Sylvia, I also have enjoyed reading your comments and hope your hospice care is what you hope it to be and that your journey is peaceful and loving.

A home in the nearby town opened a hospice residence, which I think is very wonderful for those who have no place of their own.

Anne, thank you for the EU election news. I'd recently heard of E.R. and read they formed in October, 2018 - so things can happen quickly in politics - who knew!?? I hope this is a precursor to our 2020 election.

Regina, Regina - thanks, this was entertaining. I think in times past, when someone's name was already used, they put a II or something to separate them. (Dee?)

Like Mary, I often feel that "It's not my world anymore.". I think that is OK, it makes it easier to let go when the time comes. As for an afterlife about a time in your life when you were happy, I would also need the perspective to appreciate that was a happy time. I took it for granted while it was happening. Seems to me like an afterlife is too much to hope for, no do overs.
Sylvia, I wish you comfort and peace as you enter hospice.

I wouldn’t mind being 71 and a half if I didn’t remind myself of my mother pining for the good old days and saying “This too shall pass.”
Thanks for putting into words so many of our feelings, Ronnie.

Yes there still is wrinkled spinach -- im in Lancaster PA and that is still what is grown locally == I buy and eat all that I can while it is in season.
For me that baby spinach that comes in a plastic bag has an aftertaste -- dont like it at all.
I dont like my veggies in plastic bags!
im lucky I can buy from farm stands, farm markets or directly from the farmer.

makes a big difference.

marcia

Sylvia: I've been wanting to say for a long time how much I appreciate your comments here.

Always there's a sparkling clarity of intellect in what you offer us; always nuance, thoughtfulness and honesty, intermingled with compassion. Sorry if that sounds gushy, but it's what I think whenever I read what you've written. So thank you.

Having said that, I'm putting my money on your mother's wisdom over yours and betting she'll get to say "Told you so, Sylvia".

Warmest wishes on your journey.

Marvellous post Ronni. And judging by those many previous comments, you touched a chord in many of your followers.
My view on skimpy clothing: 120 years ago it was considered risqué to display a bit of ankle. How long will it be before the world is filled with naked humans, weather permitting?
And, I think your time is rarely squandered.

I wonder if the feeling that we no longer belong in this world is our way of telling ourselves it is getting time to “go”.

Sort of when you realize it is time to retire. Or that feeling you got in your senior year of high school that you were outgrowing this phase of life and it is time to move on.

Not that you might go soon but that you are getting ready to begin the process. And you begin get ok with it.

I love spinach and hadn't thought about the wrinkled kind in years. When I read your blog I thought surely someone has vintage spinach seeds---they have vintage everything else at farmer's markets---but all I found on Google was a pillow from Wayfair with a reproduction of a seed packet of vintage seeds and apparently there's a musical group named "Vintage Spinach." I didn't dig deep into the spinach mystery because one of your other followers did such a good job of explaining why growers have gone to the smoother spinach. Learn something new every day.

I really hope "squandering time" is a universal feeling for those of us who aren't Great Humanitarians because the older I get the more I think that I'm a charter member of the club.

Two years with pan. cancer ... congratulations, and may you continue to live long and prosper. I take it as a badge of wisdom that I no longer know the latest pop songs or this week's guests on SNL. But, sigh ... add netflix and amazon prime to that too-long list of recommendations.

to "Regina B." If my memory serves (& sometimes it doesn't), you live on the West Coast. I'm the East Coast Regina. I'll use my middle initial from now on: Regina M. It's a lot better than using "Regina, The Elder" since I beat you by several years. Oh, and Ronni, your spinach comments reminded me of my mother who absolutely hated spinach due to it tasting like sand. I admit I fooled her on several occasions by using spinach in my vegetarian lasagna. Hugs.

Just want to say, my mother was an enthusiast for spinach -- and I HATED washing spinach. :-)

Okay, here's how I played it. I'm 75, born in '44. When I was 13, in my bedroom listening to a 45 of "To Know Him Is To Love Him" by The Teddy Bears, my dad came in bellowing, "Why can't you listen to good music like Harry James?" In that moment my destiny was set - I would always live in the "now." And, I have.

Through every decade I embraced the music, movies, TV, books, technology...whatever. My favorite recent movie is "A Simple Favor," I love the music of Chris Brown, Cold Play and The Weekend. I'm addicted to i phones and Facebook. I buy my clothes at Abercrombie & Fitch and Banana Republic. I cherish my grandchildren and they keep me, "on fleek."

I miss being young and having my husband and parents alive. I miss feeling good every day. I miss having intelligent human beings in the White House. I miss that forever is not ahead. I miss the enthusiasm and optimism I once had, but I'm still living in the now.

Reporting here because here’s where I told you all. I am settled in to hospice now. It is a lovely place — Kensington Hospice in Toronto, if anyone wants to google — and the staff are all very kind and competent. It will lift the burden from my family, so all they have to do is visit and keep me company, while experts take care of the messy stuff.

It all happened amazingly fast. My home-care doctor had just barely put my application in, when I got the call and there were a gazillion last-minute things to do to hand things over before I left my desktop computer for the last time. Right now I am commenting here using my daughter’s iPad and keyboard to see if that is something I would want to buy, or if it would be a waste of money, so pardon me if I natter on about myself for a bit while I test out typing this way.

The hospice doctor said my remaining time is probably measured in weeks, not months. If I look at it right, that means my husband and I did a great job of looking after my needs for as long as was reasonably possible. And I am extremely lucky to have had ... oh, basically every part of my life. I don’t have any kick coming. Not one.

..but now they have brought my lunch, and I am going to try to eat something.

Regina M. I’m originally from the east coast (Philadelphia). My middle initial is also M, which should come as no surprise! But thanks for adding the M. I tried to do that once, but was unsuccessful.

Continued after lunch. Another thing the doctor told me, is that it is okay not to eat. So when the egg salad sandwich just seemed like too much work, that’s a sign my body isn’t really processing solid food any longer, and I should stop. The mushroom soup still went down, and felt good and satisfying.

Everyone dies differently, according to who they are. My experience isn’t anybody else’s. Down the hall, a man is ululating, not loudly, but wordlessly, musically... and then I hear him mumble “I’m sorry” to the care worker who is talking with him gently.

Sylvia, thank you for sharing your journey with us. "May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest".

Thank you, Sylvia - if you can, post at will. Many of us will look forward to reading of your experience, ideas, remembrances, gripes, interests, --anything and everything.

And the iPad? You like it? Buy it.

Gentle hugs to you, Sylvia! So glad you can stay connected to the world online...not the least of it this blog. My son recommended the Kindle Fire, when I wanted a tablet for traveling. You might want to look into that. I wish you comfort and serenity in whatever time remains for you!

Relate to many of the comments. Doing well at 84, the body feels it now after a heart attack
3 months ago. Mind still questions so much. Much I still crave to do but cannot.
Thoughts of where do I belong. Love this cottage by the woods, but now what others
help me do (if I can find them) I loved doing. My writing and camera keep me going.
Ready to go but seems for some reason I am remaining.

Sylvia, my heart goes out to you as you are nearing the end
of the winter phase of life. I am in great admiration of your stoic courageous attitude.

You and Ronni are showing those of us who will soon follow how to do so with grace. I only hope that I am able to say "no kick coming" when the bell rings for me.

May you have pain free peaceful days for those remaining to you.

I

Thoughtful column, Ronni. Thank you and Sylvia.

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.

Working...
Your comment could not be posted. Error type:
Your comment has been posted. Post another comment

The letters and numbers you entered did not match the image. Please try again.

As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.

Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.

Working...

Post a comment

Your Information

(Name and email address are required. Email address will not be displayed with the comment.)