Sandra Heska King

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aging with corn, cars, and snowshoes

September 12, 2013 By Sandra Heska King

aging

Age puzzles me. I thought it was a quiet time. My seventies were interesting and fairly serene, but my eighties are passionate. . .  To my own surprise, I burst out with hot conviction. ~Florida Scott-Maxwell as quoted in Mindfulness, p. 93

I’ll call him John.

He was a retired minister who lived in the foster care home just down the road.

He was 100 years old.

The story goes that he paced out the distance back and forth across the front porch to a mile and then walked it every day.

He was “sharp as a tack.”

One of the aides wanted him to perform her wedding, and he was thrilled.

But her mother threw a fit.

“You can’t let that old man perform your wedding. No. Absolutely not.”

John died shortly after that.

My husband’s great-uncle Albert was a geneticist. He worked for a seed corn company and developed new varieties of hybrid seed corn, and his work was about all he talked about at family reunions.

He retired when he was 75 but didn’t like it. So he went back to work for another five years. But when he turned 80, he found himself in the middle of getting a new variety of corn approved.

When he could no longer drive, he took Amtrak to the office.

He finally retired at 89 when his health failed.

He died soon after that.

My grandmother stopped counting her age when she turned 39–like Jack Benny. I don’t think she ever worked outside the home, but she stayed busy. Though she eventually lived in a retirement setting, she refused to let anyone dub her a senior citizen. She was the one who transported the seniors to wherever they needed to be.

I don’t know when she lost her ability to drive, but my misty memory recalls something about wheels on a curb.

My sister described it like this:

There’s not a lot to the story. She and I just always used to go out together and she liked to drive. Her driving, of course, got worse over the years and one time we were coming from town down Center Street back towards Alten Zimmer (her apartment.) Kristin was very small then. Grandma was driving and had pulled way over to the right hand side so that both right hand wheels were on the curb and the left side wheels were on the road. After we drove that way for a short bit, I asked her if she thought maybe she should move over a little to the left which she did with a bit of a thud as the wheels came off the curb. I think that was the moment that I decided from then on I would drive on any of our outings.

In her 80s, Grandma fell and broke her hip and afterwards, at home, had a heart attack or maybe threw a fat embolism. At any rate, Grandma overheard one of the staff say she’d never be able to live alone again.

My sister said it was like she just gave up.

She died right there in the hospital.

My husband’s great-grandfather was a terrible driver. One of the neighbors told of how he watched Frank, then in his late 70s, pull out of the drive in front of traffic. He covered his eyes and listened to horns honk and tires squeal. When he looked, he saw cars and trucks in the ditch on both sides of the road. Frank and Carrie, both “deaf as doorposts,” continued on their way toward town.

Shortly after that, his son hid the car keys. So Frank hitchhiked into town and bought a new Oldsmobile. He was much more mindful of where he hid his keys after that.

He died in his 80s–but not in a car wreck.

And then there’s Helen.

We cannot be sure why some people age mindfully,nor can we know whether admiring views of older people stem from positive mindsets about aging or from mindfulness. What we do know is that models like these help all of us age a little better. ~Ellen Langer in Mindfulness, p. 100

I’m 62.

Yes, I am.

But I don’t feel like it–most of the time. I’ve got some aches and pains, but is that a sign of aging or a sign of simply letting myself go? My heart, besides the valve thing, is in great shape after an extensive review.

I’ve been focusing on what little time I may have left.

I think it’s time to change my mindset.

My husband just took out more life insurance on me (and I got the highest rating.) He also bought me snowshoes last month. I didn’t ask for snowshoes. But it appears I’ll find myself on snowshoes this winter. He hasn’t been able to kill me on my bike, though goodness knows he’s tried. I guess this is his new M.O.

Maybe I have less time left than I think.

Still sharp–mostly

Sandy

Note: From the archives. Originally written as part of The High Calling’s book club study of Mindfulness. I’m 64 now, and I still haven’t gotten on the snowshoes.

 

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Comments

  1. Sharon O says

    September 12, 2013 at 9:47 am

    Great post. I loved it.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      September 21, 2013 at 10:12 am

      Thanks, Sharon.

  2. Martha Orlando says

    September 12, 2013 at 10:28 am

    We never know our length and quality of days here on earth. All the more reason to live our lives as fully and as meaningfully as we can.
    Beautiful post, Sandy!
    Blessings!

    • Sandra Heska King says

      September 21, 2013 at 10:12 am

      Amen to that, Martha.

  3. Elizabeth says

    September 12, 2013 at 11:10 am

    I still can’t believe you’re 64! You look like a spring chicken! 🙂
    At 56 I am proud to report that a 32 year old young man scandalously flirted with me in the grocery store line the other day.
    (ok, so he was quite inebriated, but it was still rather flattering!)

    • Marilyn Yocum says

      September 12, 2013 at 8:43 pm

      Hahaha! I turn away no compliments. 🙂

    • Sandra Heska King says

      September 21, 2013 at 10:13 am

      I loved when my daughter and I were in a restaurant (Taco Bell, I think) several years ago, and some guy about her age hit on me. 😀

  4. Diana Trautwein says

    September 12, 2013 at 11:44 am

    Love this. Also dislike this, intensely. :>) And I see you have a nice slice of that passive-aggressive stuff, too. NO snowshoes after 2 years. Oh, yeah. One year, in a desperate attempt to get me to exercise, my husband gave me one of those mini-trampoline things that were popular in the early 80s. My kids sure enjoyed that thing and I smiled every time they got on it, too. I, however, avoided it like the plague. Those driving stories are simply terrifying – so far our elders have had to sense to know when to quit. I pray I will, too.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      September 21, 2013 at 10:15 am

      About the snowshoes… We really haven’t had a lot of snow since he bought them. I don’t honestly remember if he’s even used his. 😉

  5. Marilyn Yocum says

    September 12, 2013 at 8:41 pm

    Loved this! I really related to being all thrilled over receiving the highest rating in an insurance assessment. Hahaha! I’ve spent a good deal of time around the seniorest of seniors and benefited greatly from it. It’s made me give a lot of thought to how I hope to be, how I hope to treat others, whatever my lot.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      September 21, 2013 at 10:16 am

      Yes. And I’ve given a lot of thought to how I’ll be remembered…

  6. Dea Moore says

    September 12, 2013 at 10:16 pm

    It’s time to put the snow shoes in the garage sale. Make him come up with another MO 🙂 Keep the bike. Might come in handy after reading those driving stories. Love you shared this again. I missed it the last time. You are a great writer Sandy—with a good insurance standing!

    • Sandra Heska King says

      September 21, 2013 at 10:22 am

      Ha! The bike is hanging from the garage ceiling. I’m a little afraid of it since I went splat on Mackinac Island–and my daughter is limping around with a torn PCL after her own bicycle mishap.

      And thanks, friend. 🙂

  7. Diane W. Bailey says

    September 13, 2013 at 12:02 pm

    You seem to be like those who have gone before you, full of vim and vigor all the way to the end. My I be on the same path with you!

    • Sandra Heska King says

      September 21, 2013 at 10:24 am

      We can hold each other up. 🙂

  8. Lorretta says

    September 23, 2013 at 11:46 am

    I love this so much. Old Lady I’m watching you. This is why.

Trackbacks

  1. Saturday Shortcuts | Planned Peasanthood says:
    September 14, 2013 at 4:15 am

    […] Heska King | aging with corn, cars, and snowshoes – I’ve got some aches and pains, but is that a sign of aging or a sign of simply letting […]

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