AGING UP, NOT OUT

For aging up, you need a good role model.

This is mine, my mother in law.

She aged up well right until the end.

One day we were visiting my favorite tap house for a drink.

The next day she had a headache. Two days later she passed in the hospital.

From a girlhood spent on the south coast of England with a view of the English Channel, through WWII as a signaler, she moved to America with her husband and son.

And added a daughter.

She came to Oregon and lived with us when her husband got sick with Parkinson’s.

Was it hard living with a mother in law? Not mine.

She was a trooper who had a firm grip on who she was and what she wanted out of life.

One of the first things she did here was find local women’s groups to join.

That’s when I realized her daughter didn’t fall far from her momma. When my wife started a new business, the first thing she did was join the local business association.

The lesson learned? Looks for new friends in a new place. There were professionals at it.

Judy had friends from her entire life; so does my wife. But they always find new friends.

There is a certain joy in seeing people connect, whether it’s from where they come from, or where they’re going.

Women on the go know how to fix a drink.

New Friends For Aging Up

These were my buddies a few years back, the nurses on a cancer ward.

They are everybody’s friend.

I aged up, not out, with their help.

When I asked what the hell I was supposed to do while I got fried with chemo and radiation, one of them said, “Surrender to the process.”

I tried surrendering, but it felt like I might die, age out, if I surrendered too much.

To even things out, I applied weed brownies to my recovery.

And I here I am today as a result.

Note: When I left the cancer clinic after the last chemo the nurses called me over to the desk.

Three of them started singing, “Hit The Road Jack.”

I joined in.

“We’re not supposed to do this because we have so many return patients. But we feel pretty good about you.”

That’s nice, because I felt, and still feel, pretty good about them.

I’m holding a magazine from the waiting room with an article I wrote in it.

Life With A View

After dancing with the devil, my kids thought I needed to see a few things.

We drove and hiked down to this spot.

“Maybe we ought to find a trail to the top of the falls and jump off?” said no one.

Aging up with kids is a challenge between trying to keep up, and letting them know your limits.

Some dad’s proudly tell their kids, “I have no limits.”

They’re lying to their kids and themselves.

What’s wrong with limits? It’s not a weakness, and if it, embrace it.

How many baby boomers know their limits and ignore them?

My limits are defined by others. Like my wife says, “If you didn’t marry me you wouldn’t go anywhere.”

But, if someone has an idea of where to go, then I’m in.

For example, I had plans recently that went sideways because others had plans too.

I stuck to my plans, but one of my kids said, “Come with us and participate.”

So I did. What the plan?

Go to the park and watch the cutest kid in the whole wide world climb and slide on the playground instead or watching the Oregon Ducks play Washington State.

It was an easy decision, and we got back in time for the fourth quarter magic of Bo Nix after a pick-six.

There will be a time in the near future for, “Why don’t we go find that waterfall again.”

I’m ready.

Aging Up With, “Let’s Go To Paris”

I heard, “Let’s go to Paris,” and filed it in the unlikely travel drawer along with going to the moon.

We’d had foreign exchange students over the years, and one year had a supervisor from France.

The women in red was also a student supervisor, a charming, fearless, traveler who we met up with in Paris after her time in Portland.

When does that ever happen? Make plans, good plans, but even good plans go awry. Not this time.

A life partner needs to be lively. If that’s not you, it had better be them, or else you might fall into a rut you’ll never escape from.

My wife likes to remind me how lucky I am, and I’m starting to believe her.

But, that’s not true. I’ve believed in her from the start, her in a blue summer dress walking up NW Lovejoy in Portland, Oregon.

Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Like a wedding ring.

The Nurturing Age

Hear me out: When your wife says she’s the age where women need to nurture, and she wants a dog, find a dog.

Why? Because she’s talking about both of you.

After kids and coaching and school activities, one day it’s all over. You aged out.

Then what? Time for aging up.

This good girl is the right dog at the right time. She fits right in with the program.

She takes things and runs away, challenging us to chase her.

She doesn’t shed, so we don’t get into the discussion of whose turn it is to clean up wads of hair in the corners of the house.

Best of all, she brings out something different in both of us. I like what I see.

Here’s what my wife saw:

Me holding puppy still while she fights to escape, which led to her reading a dog training manual for an hour, out loud. While I listened.

I felt nurtured, or reprimanded, but better. We both agreed to work with the dog the same way so the dog has some consistency in her life.

I participate enthusiastically, maybe too enthusiastically.

My suspicions were answered when my wife said, “Don’t talk to me like you talk to the dog.”

Apparently, this writer still has some work to do.

And so do you.

Are you ready to participate in nurturing?

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