I was recently talking to one of my many favorite sister in laws at our most recent family party. It was our Robbins Family Christmas party. We were talking about how we both still feel as if we are 18. WE don't feel 46 or 44. She was commenting on how she has an older neighbor who is in her 80's. She thought initially, what do I have in common with this woman? She is 80, I am in my mid 40's, what would we have to talk about?
As she allowed the conversations to unfold with this neighbor, she discovered many things.
Her neighbor might be 80, but she is 40 in her mind.
She has plenty to talk about that is of value, just as Karen does.
Karen and she have become friends, and Karen has totally benefited from this relationship, she has learned all sorts of things, and is grateful she did not allow her "age bias", if you will, let her miss out on this awesome relationship.
I said, I am hoping people will talk to me when I am 80. I seemingly have much to offer others at this point in my life. I can cook, I can crack jokes, I can lead women's studies, I can give talks, people seem happy when they see me coming in the many social environments I am able to drive myself to. I have a husband who will listen on occasion to me, even though I repeat the same stories. He has asked on occasion if I could get some new stories. Someday, I will tell a story, and he won't remember that I told him the story, so it probably doesn't suit me to get new ones anyway, too much trouble.
What happens when we seemingly don't have much to offer?
I guess when that day comes, I will be counting on the fact that I have placed my life into so many, that maybe just a few will check in on me? Maybe just a few will want to hear my stories about past Bible studies, past places me and my kids and husband got to travel to, past friends who loved me and made me laugh.
When my Nana was diagnosed with dementia it really never resonated with me what that was. My Nana was always extremely eccentric. I do know she drove my mother nuts. My mother was so proper, and well, Nana, was NOT. She would sit in a chair and pull her legs over her head in what today would probably be called a yoga pose of sorts. She would stand on her head against a wall, just because. She would say things like "shit", and I would laugh, and my mother would say "MOTHER, don't say that in front of the girls". She smoked, but only outside. But everyone I know just about from her generation smoked.
Do you suppose there is a smoking section in heaven?
If there is, my Nana is smoking a forever cigarette and enjoying every minute of it.
My Nana would come to Maine and one year when I was in 5th grade she brought me an old book called "Aprilly" I only recently saw the inscription inside the book that said "For Julie, my Aprilly, born in April" or some such thing, and she signed it. I cried when I read it, the inscription. She would sit and listen to me read to her, painful as it must have been as I could not read out loud fluently until I was in 7th or 8th grade. She gave me beechnut gum. She smelled like dirt because she loved to work in her rose garden. To this day, when I smell fresh soil, I think Nana! I always loved Nana. Dementia never changed that for me. She never forgot me, either, or my mother. You are my Diane, my baby, who got fat on cream from my breasts. Yes, Nana said that too!
I thought of my Nana today when Karen was talking about her neighbor. I always hoped someone would listen to Nana. I guess that is why I won't turn away from people who try to strike up conversations with me in a store, a stranger. Part of it is my belief that God puts everyone in our path for a reason, but part of it stems from my Nana. I could see how some might find her annoying, with all her strange antics, only to become stranger and odder as the dementia progressed, but for those who lovingly talked to her, let her touch them, oh she loved children and babies the best, my heart thanks them.
I am glad my sister in law is friends with her neighbor, didn't let bias get in the way.
I will be hoping and praying, when I am 80, I will think I am 40, still believe I have plenty to offer, and that there will be people who will lovingly listen to me.
Love to my Nana, I think you were the first hippie I knew.
Julie
