“I Am Not 80 Yet” is the first part of the title in an opinion piece by Bonnie Tsui in the New York Times yesterday.  It was interesting because it was written from the perspective of a much younger person, and somehow I was identifying with the writer.  When I realized it and thought about it, I was shocked to recognise just how much closer I am to age 80, than to the author of this piece.  

So, I decided to read it again from another view.  She wrote about their self-acceptance, of who they were and what they may look like.  It was evident in everything they did and said.  They had a great sense of humor and laughed easily.  They knew what was important.  And their experiences had made their outlook on life less concerned about trivial things.  I am closer to that perspective now, than I have ever been before, even though I am not 80 yet.  

One thing that is true for me now, is that I have less of a filter than when I was younger.  I pretty much say what I think, except I try not to ever subconsciously make a mistake and say something I hadn’t intended.  And, that I need to be cognizant of other ways it could be taken.  I especially don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings because I didn’t think it through. 

Actually, there are many perks about being older.  The valuable experiences, accumulated over the years, can make one able to help younger people discover their worth and give them another way to look at things.  A person can lose physical beauty, but be a treasure trove of wisdom and love for one’s fellow human beings.  That is of inestimable  value.  Physical beauty is fleeting, love and kindness to others is not.  There are definitely perks to being young, but that is also true for us at all ages.

So, I have decided to revel in my daily life. Hopefully I will become a better person as I continue to pursue the opportunity to share my time and talent with the people that I come into contact with.  I am in the beginning of my 8th decade, but I am not 80 yet!

My husband has been going to the dogs for the last 2 years now.  It’s been quite an experience as you may imagine.  In fact, it has caused us to have some emotional moments.  A few days ago, was a typical occurrence because it was on a Friday.  When he would come home, he was exhausted and usually took a nap.  Afterwards, I would be able to see the effects of his day.  

But on that day, he had to tell me all that had happened right away when he came home.  And so I listened to one story and then another until he was finished.  As it happened, it had been a good day, except for being bruised by a client.  (If you could call him that!)

And then, there was a young worker who was quitting because she had found another job.  The staff was happy for her, as she was well-liked and appreciated.  But now they were going to have to wait for the “management” to find a replacement.

By now, you may have figured out where and what had happened.  He is a volunteer at a place called Pet Refuge.  Today was the second time he worked this week, because he has been subbing whenever a volunteer can’t make it on a different shift.

Going to the dogs has been a wonderful experience for him because he has always loved dogs and they are drawn to him.  Once in a while he will get nipped by a new dog who is scared.  Some of them may have been mistreated or hesitant with people, but once they can see how much he loves them, they love him back.

We have 2 dogs now, Ralphie and Franny, that we adopted from Pet Refuge, plus Tiny, our first dog,  who passed away.  I had never had a dog growing up, and was hesitant to get Tiny.  But after she passed, we needed another sweetheart in our family.  And then, we adopted another one.  They are entertaining as well as challenging, (for me at least).  But they are part of our family and we both love them.  So “going to the dogs” for us has been a very good thing.

I remember quite clearly a moment I had with my eldest granddaughter  when she was quite young.  She was often told, by complete strangers, how beautiful she was.  Now, this alarmed me, because the things that children are told by adults, when a child is very young, have an impact on their self-worth.  I didn’t want her to see this as an important attribute because it can encourage conceit, which I think is an ugly trait.  And that is definitely not beautiful.

So, I knew I had to do something about it.  I thought about how to deflect this so-called compliment.  And I decided to tell her another way to see these words.  I told her that when she smiled, which she did so much of the time, that it showed people how much love she had in her heart.  And I finished by saying that this was the most important thing in life.  Every so often I would ask her what was the most important thing.  And she would tell me, “the love in my heart.” 
This was an experiment in finding a way to deflect some of the things that people tell children without thinking about the possible consequences.  I don’t think most of us think about ways of deflecting praise.  And not all praise is bad.  I was just very fortunate that this worked.  The things that we do as adults will not always be successful, even if we strive to do the right thing.  But if we try to make decisions with love in our hearts, then perhaps our example will help to make this world a kinder, more loving place to live.  I believe that love has the power to change things for the good.  And I also believe that it is the most important thing.

I found letters from my long-time pen pal the other day.  They were in one of the storage totes that were filled to the top containing all kinds of things that were packed away after moving back home from California.  They had been here in storage for over 25 years.  My pen pal and I had begun to write after meeting in a London Park while I was on a 6-week trip to Europe with a group from my high school.  I was 16 at the time.  He was a young actor in a play in one of the parks there.  He and his friend both wanted to be pen pals with me.  And so they began to write to me.  His friend pooped out after a few letters.  But my new friend, Colin and I wrote for years.  

He was by far the best pen pal ever!  I had other pen pals before this, but they had stopped writing like his friend had done.  But Colin and I really got to know each other over many years. 

He lived in Birmingham and was 3 years younger than me.  I think he saw me as “an older woman.”  I enjoyed reading about his school life, the girls he “fancied” and his absolute love of Motown music.  A while back, I sent him a copy of a single letter he had written way before I found the treasure trove of them in the tote.  He couldn’t believe what he had written then, as I am sure I would feel the same if I saw one of mine. 

Anyway, we wrote throughout the time I was in college and for some more years after I was married.  Then he left England to be close to his girlfriend who lived in Iran.  We lost touch after that.  I hadn’t heard from him and sent a letter to his mother who forwarded it to him.  But he never received it.  Thirty years later, he found me on Facebook.  We began to write long emails to each other trying to catch up.  He married his girlfriend, they had three children and I had 2 children and 2 grandchildren.  Now I have 3 grandchildren and he has 2, I think.  Forgive me, my memory is failing me. 

A few years ago, my husband and I went to Europe and were in England for about a week, along with some other countries.  We were able to stay with them at their home where they gave us personal tours of wonderful places close to their home.  And then they invited us to go with them to the Lake District where they went “on holiday.”  We accepted and went with them.  We talked and played games and had such a wonderful time!  And it was all because Colin and I had become pen pals.  We had equally enjoyed our letter-writing all those years and would always write back, right away.  And because of this, we became friends.  Wonderful friends!  We are still friends and have truly enriched each other’s lives.  It’s a blessing.  And I am so grateful .

In the beginning, we didn’t know each other very well.  We were just in a group of writers, singers, and other performers that met regularly to share their talents with others.  We had an open mic and a scheduled person or group to showcase each time we met.  There was a cover charge of $2.  It was an opportunity to perform in a relatively small venue to get experience and exposure.  That is when I began to know her.  We didn’t really know each other before being in this group together.  Later, we were both on the committee that planned the events.

She was a writer of poetry and stories and was writing or had written a novel by then.  I can’t remember.  I think it was her first one at the time. (She went on to write 2 more as part of a trilogy.)  They have been published and are wonderful books.  Anyway, for all practical purposes, we were more like acquaintances then.  That was until my son died in a car accident.  Later, not long after that had happened, she asked my husband and I to dinner at her house.  We accepted her invitation, and that was the beginning of a very special relationship.

I began to write almost daily after his funeral.  It was my way of coping, and expressing all the feelings and realizations and memories that filled me.  She was an editor at our local newspaper and offered to meet me every week so I could share what I had written. Every week!  And we did meet and I shared every story, every poem, every song I had composed for a whole year.  She was my gentle listener every week!  It became a book and she edited it for me.  My gratitude for her gift, to this day resides in my heart. 

After the writer’s group disbanded, we still kept in touch. We didn’t regularly meet.  But we were always glad to see each other and talked about everything.  The last few years, we saw each other pretty regularly just to talk.  And then she was diagnosed with cancer.

Whenever I was out doing errands and was close to her house, I would park out in front and call her on my cell phone.  If she sounded like it was a good day, I would tell her I was outside in my car, and if she was up to it, she would ask me to come in and we would visit.  She always asked if I wanted coffee and would always give me something to eat with it. We enjoyed each other’s company and talked.  We loved each other.

It was so hard to see her get weaker and weaker.  I knew she was living her last days.  She told me she was ready.  We hugged and we cried.  That was the last time I saw her.  She was, and will always be my very special friend.