Lessons From My Elders: Bring in the Light, Clean the Counters, and Put on Lipstick

 

Light through the window. Playa del Carmen, Quintana Roo, Mexico. November 2010. Credit: Mzuriana.

Every morning, I open my window blinds and receive the light into my space.

Every morning, in the physicality of that action, I remember my mother. 

Every morning, my mother also opened her blinds, or shutters, or curtains, or drapes - whatever the window treatment was in the house she occupied at the time. 

She also told me how important it was to clean off the kitchen counters. Even if there are dishes in the sink, she said, a clean counter makes the whole kitchen look pretty OK, and it makes her feel good, too, she said. 

She also told me how important it was to apply lipstick in the morning (and in her years of youngish matronhood, how important it was to refresh that lipstick before my father returned home from work).

So what do these prosaic actions have to do with aging? 

• There are small actions we can take to create our own environment of ease, beauty, and dignity. 
• We have control over these small acts; they are expressions of our self-determination. 
• They send a message to those who enter our spaces: You are dealing with an elder Who Keeps Up. 

To each her own on whether or not to apply cosmetics when one is traveling in the Land of Age, but here are some thoughts about its power, gleaned from the Women's Health article, Why Putting On Lipstick Makes You Feel So Awesome: 

"... lipstick provides a reliable tonic in trying times. ...  it often serves as a symbol (however small) of health and vibrancy. 'Lipstick helps restore a normal sense of self that a patient can lose during incredibly difficult cancer treatments and help them feel like themselves,' says Bobbie Rimel, M.D., a gynecologist and oncologist...."

"[Poppy King] recalls ...  'Lipstick immediately made me feel different on the inside ... like I was capable of more with it on than I was without it.'" 

"As Audrey Hepburn so succinctly put it, 'On a bad day, there's always lipstick.'"

Digital Journals: The Other Side of Sixty

Roasting coffee beans. Washington, D.C. May 2007. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

The Other Side of Sixty, by "Wisewebwoman."

The author lives in Newfoundland, Canada. I'll call her WBW (wise web woman). 

Age 79 (as of today's writing).

WBW is very open about how she moves through the sea of age. Some days are clear sailing, a goodly breeze. Some are stormy, treacherous. Some days the sail is still and flaccid, her vessel stalled over the deep unknowable.

WBW's blog is an espresso. Black, no sugar. Flavorful.

She has visited some corners of aging that I've touched on, as well, and I find sustenance in reading similar experiences. 

Digital Journals: The 80-Something Blog

 

Judy Kugel. Source: The Art of Applying.

Rather than craft an introduction, I'll get to my recommendation: 

The 80-Something Blog by Judy Kugel. 

With a video lagniappe below, in an interview conducted by one of her sons: 

In addition to my appreciation for her content about aging as well as she can in all dimensions of our humanness - the physical, mental, and emotional - I like her writing style. It is clean and succinct. 

On a superficial note, the attire she wore in the video interview resonated with me. Classic. Ageless. 

Vanity of Age: On Camera Filters, or The Lack Thereof

 

A selfie in Juarez. December 2016. Credit: Mzuriana.

Until recently, I've felt somewhat irritated that my phone camera's app auto-"corrects" my selfies, smoothing out my lines a bit. I've searched the camera settings to turn this feature off, but the option doesn't seem to exist on my phone's camera app. 

I have now reconsidered my objections. 

I attended a community event a week or so ago. Members of a local photography club swirled about the area, capturing many photos of the people there. Some of the photographers posted their work on a social media site, where I saw a photo of myself. 

It was a perfectly fine photo, except I wish I had been sitting up straighter on the bench. 

It was a perfectly fine photo, except ..... ohhhhh ..... without the busybody filter that my phone camera has, the photographer's camera had no compunction at all about disclosing the stark reality of my facial terrain. 

I'm reconsidering my irritation at my phone's kinder view. 

 

Vanity of Age: The "Meno-Belly"

Tripe (stomach). Istanbul market, Turkey. July 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

This "meno-belly" (aka "meno-pot") business has only just come to my attention. 

When I arrived at my healthy body weight (overall, a 150-pound weight loss over the course of some years), I had what they call an "apron," which is loose skin that hangs down a bit from the abdomen. 

But more recently, I have acquired the proverbial spare tire around my middle. "Recently" meaning: In the last two years, maybe a bit longer. 

I blamed it on these two things, in chronological order: 

1. Moved from a dance-intensive area to an area where there is not much of a dance community, so I lost that good workout; and
2. COVID, of course 

I had gotten a little loosey-goosey on my caloric intake, too, not much, but over time, enough sloppiness to spill over into some weight gain. 

So I've tightened up the daily caloric envelope to see what happens. 

You'd think an esteemed institution such as the Cleveland Clinic would have something insightful to offer here, but it doesn't. Just the usual stuff: Weight, exercise, diet, blah, blah, blah. I can get that in a so-called "women's" magazine. Or The Enquirer. The Mayo Clinic isn't much better. 

However, there is a possible tiny hint of what might have contributed to my meno-belly - which by the way - did not emerge until well after I'd passed through menopause: 

1. A reference to sleep apnea in the Cleveland Clinic's article; and
2. A reference to breathing problems in the Mayo Clinic's article. 

Because "breathing problems" are a function of sleep apnea, it's possible that as the treatment of my sleep apnea progresses, my meno-belly might contract. 

I wonder about this possibility because I noticed a change in my sleep patterns after I moved to Tucson. And it was during my Tucson sojourn that I began to notice the belly change. 

We'll see. 

Lessons From My Elders: New & Improved Is Not Always Better

Cars on a table. Missouri. January 2006. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

My mother bought a new car when she was in her mid-80s. 

Her old car didn't have a back-up camera.

It made sense for her to buy a car with a back-up camera, yes? Safer for her! Safer for the people around her when she backed up! Right? 

Well, maybe not.

A back-up camera can make backing out of a space more treacherous unless you master the new quirks the camera requires of the driver. While you're looking down and to the right at the back-up video screen on or below your dashboard, you are not looking at what's coming at you just out of view of the back-up camera:

• A shopper who is about to walk directly behind you
• A car in the parking lot lane approaching your egress path. 

We've still got to look up and into our rearview mirror, over our shoulders to the rear, over to the right to the passenger side mirror, over to the left at our side mirror, turning to look in the rear window. All of these movements we are accustomed to do. 

Adding a new visual point to see what's in the camera screen in front of us - adds a complication in both the passage of chronological time and mental processing time.  

The lesson for me, as I peer into my aging future, is this: Sure, try the new thing out before I get rid of my old thing. Maybe newer will be better, but maybe the ease and comfort of the old will actually be safer, or if safety isn't a factor, maybe more satisfying. 

Lessons From My Elders: Exercise Bands

 

Resistance bands. Credit: Mzuriana.

When my mother, "Joanne," was in her late 80s, there was a day when she had what I can only call a system crash. Joanne acquired some sort of infection that, like a malware program, brought her down both physically and cognitively. It was scary, and after doing some hospital time, she passed additional time in a rehab center. 

It's my mother's experience at the rehab center that taught me two lessons that I have onboarded for myself: 

1. Get a set of stretchy exercise bands for strength-building at home, the same bands that the rehab center's physical therapist had Joanne use
2. Actually use them

I did buy a set of bands.

I do actually use them. Almost every day. 

I can get some benefits of a gym without having to go to a gym. The bands are inexpensive and they take up virtually no space. 

I can build and maintain strength and muscle. I'm going to need both as I continue to grow old.