Life Lessons and Retirement Renaissance

This morning, I felt like a flotsam of flesh and bones with a heavy bag of sand for a head. Rotten!  … and I blame the ageing process, but most importantly, I blame myself!

Get with it, woman!  You know what to do!  This sad mental attitude began before retirement, but retirement has definitely blown it out of proportion.  Attitude toward what, you say?  - MY HEALTH and what I should be doing to feel better. 

Lesson Number One:  This “epiphany” actually hit me in my late 40’s when I helped a dear friend with a building project toward building her home.  It was a New Year’s Eve celebration, and we decided to do something different and special, so we “treated” ourselves to white Russians!!! YUM.  I was feeling no pain at the stroke of midnight; in fact, my body was literally swinging from the rafters … oooooh, so much fun – til morning. This migraine was different … streaks of lightening were zooming across my brain:  ZOOM, ZOOM, ZOOM – Hell. Somehow, I crawled out to the car at 4:00 a.m., drove home, and vegetated with the proverbial “porcelain goddess” for three days!  The DT symptoms were in force!

Later, I learned that a snow storm had felled trees across the road to my friend’s home; they wondered how I got out … I’ll never know. At least, I had the clarity of mind to post a message on the answering machine that I was out with friends and would return calls when I returned. Thank goodness, I had cloroxed the bathroom floor, because I lay there, nauseously writhing, during those entire three days.

We all know what happened next.  I prayed to Lord Jesus that I would never, ever, do that again…and I didn’t, except for one more time. This time, a group of friends went down to the beach with me and Mom to celebrate her birthday.  A lovely little place served the best margaritas in North Myrtle Beach, and we ordered them by the pitcher full. Again, a great old time was had by all, even making new friends with everyone that came near our table, but reality set in the next morning. Finally, I had my fill of celebratory alcoholic beverages, and knew what had to be done in order to avoid feeling that way again.

Don’t get me wrong. I imbibed only at Christmas and New Years.  It has now been over two decades since I’ve drank anything with alcohol, but every once in a blue moon, I’ll take a sip, and BANG – that’s all it takes.  That little medulla oblongata starts ringing a warning bell.  The sugar content in the alcohol goes straight to the back of my head.  I do have a better understanding of my body, and it was because of these “early experiments” that I went to a doctor, then, was diagnosed with hypoglycemia. I simply cannot handle sugar. 

Lesson Number Two:  Sugar. Sugar comes in many forms, but your body can’t tell the difference – thanks to recent research.  It doesn’t matter if you ingest it from alcohol, fruit, sweets, or artificial sweeteners, the body will react. Due to my hypoglycemia, I obviously cannot handle it.  Period!  So, why do I keep “stepping over that same log?”   Attitude!  I love chocolate and fancy desserts (some are not as bad as others) and cooking special dishes in my kitchen –  but, hey, I normally know  how to not overindulge.  Since retirement, I’ve been enjoying the time to pursue many of my interests – one, of which, is baking. 

Returning to the scene of the crime, how did this epistle begin? Oh, yes – the migraine this morning.  Why?  Because I baked beautiful and wonderful Cranberry Pumpkin Bars for the Fall season!  DID NOT overindulge – only ate one modest piece. However, let’s look at some of the ingredients:  cream cheese, 2 sticks of butter and a whole bag of powdered sugar (main culprit).  I can’t stand the thought of eating another piece of that dessert (remember when you ate too much Halloween candy and got sick?). 

Why didn’t I pay attention?  Attitude!  My body is ageing, and the hypoglycemia is more pronounced. So, woman, what have you learned?!  Well, I like to cook, so… maybe, I should start cooking for a healthier life. DUH! You see, I knew this!!!  But I keep lapsing into that old style attitude of how I grew up, and relishing those sacred recipes of how my mom and grandparents cooked….excuses, excuses.

What am I going to do? I am going to be the responsible person I’ve always been.  All my life, I’ve done the right thing.  I have been responsible toward children, family, job, bills, etc.  Once upon a time, I was responsible toward my health by exercising; it’s time to incorporate and accommodate that same attitude toward my retirement years!  My husband and I have started a new program.  We have three date nights a week to work with something that, I hope, will become a third member of our family – Mr. BowFlex!

Also, I need to begin looking at healthy recipes to cook for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and slowly incorporate them into our lifestyle. See, I told you, I know what I’m supposed to do!  Attitude.  Attitude.  Attitude.  Just today, I saw something that caught my eye on FaceBook:  ZOOMER BOOMERS.    According to the article, ZOOMERS are seniors over the age of fifty who exercise and practice preventive medicine to reduce inherited health risks, among other longevity traits.

So, I have hypoglycemia; I can find support from abundant literature on the web. It’s time to put this retirement into a proper perspective, and make it work for me. Time to revamp the old recipes of my youth so they will better accommodate this Boomer body – NO! - make that “soon to be” ZOOMER body.  This renaissance won’t happen overnight, but I’m now developing a focus and a plan. No New Year’s Resolutions, but definitely a Retirement Renaissance!

Keepsakes and the Power of Four

Keepsakes provide good memories and serve as a link to the past. As young girls and boys, we knew that we would all live forever, and therefore, did not place much value to such items during those tender years; but as children grow, and values are learned, indeed, the value of sentiment and good times are also realized. My great-grandmother Kitsy’s black skillet serves as a catalyst for a sweet remembrance.

The black skillet is a tangible keepsake, but intangible keepsakes can exist in other forms such as our own memories and the love we share with special people.  With an interest is genealogy, delving into and researching my family’s history provides immense pleasure.  My paternal grandparents had four children; each of those aunts and uncle had one girl – the rest were boys. During the last several years of our adult lives, the girls – four cousins – deepened our bond with each other by sharing stories, remembrances, of our grandparents.  News is also shared about our individual families:  a mother’s health, a son’s adventure, a new grandchild – more stories to tell and keep for sweet memories.  Just this morning I received a call from one of the cousins to update about her brother’s surgery; she ended the call by saying, “enjoyed getting together with my sisters.” Cousins now reach out and offer words of encouragement and support; these times together are precious bonding experiences – magic!

As a result of our monthly luncheons, we organized the first family reunion in several decades last year. Once again, it’s time to create memories of the best sort – memories that settle deep in the heart as valued family sentiments. No longer four little girls, we are four strong women who have created a memorable bond to strengthen our families, to, once again, bring our extended families back together in order to share the knowledge of our history and to create future memories for the next generation of little girls and boys.  In essence, we have created the power of four – P⁴ - the ultimate keepsake!

Naked Retirement

Thirty years of life was devoted to a professional career that defined me – like an anchor that keeps one grounded so they can’t float away. The majority of those years consumed an administrative position to help others accomplish THEIR careers so that the dictates of the state were justified. That doesn’t sound nice, but it is a true assessment. Planning and research won honors and praise across the state, and it was in that environment (statewide not local) that encouragement was received for the work. However, down deep, stirred “Wanny,” the nickname given by my paternal grandmother, and the name did, indeed, define me – not unlike the career. Wanny - a free spirit who never liked nor approved the norm – fought conformity and was “shot down” ad infinitum! The “career” did teach a valuable lesson: One CAN follow rules and find a way to achieve accomplishments. I didn’t say it was easy!

Before the professional career, there was marriage, a full-time career that can definitely define all aspects of a woman – if she unwittingly allows it. The pay grade for a young Wanny was deplorable, and again, chances for advancement were constantly shot down. “There but for the grace of God, go I;” both grandmothers said this to me many times in my youth. What is that … some sort of Southern biblical mantra that mother’s say to their daughters to encourage them to be little ladies so that they will accept their lot in life and whimper lightly?! However, with the advent of motherhood, the fringe benefits were “soully” unlimited. Once again, spirits soared; motherhood was and still is JOY - a fringe benefit that truly blesses. And, there’s something about becoming a grandmother that ensures the circle of life and the promise that this “job” will continue – a beautiful truth.

So, how does one retire? I don’t FEEL retired! April and May, 2011 define the initial monthly parameters of retirement – for me. So far, so good; only, can’t put my finger on it, but something does not feel quite right – like I’m naked – not fully clothed – missing my armor. Hmmm…withdrawal symptoms from an 8 – 5 schedule, no authority figure to dictate my routine or actions, flashbacks of baby bottle feedings from when I used to be a stay at home mom, the need to “take care of business” before pleasure … what is it? Time consuming is the reading of all the parameters regarding insurance for health (i.e. vision, dental, cancer, …), mode of payment deductions, car and property taxes – I mean, I’ve studied so many supplemental policies that it doesn’t feel any different from previous research – except, this time, the research is for my long-term benefit. Stats depict that I’ll live past 90. OK, I admit to some confusion; this is learning to live a different way, but down deep, Wanny is really feeling like a busy piece of flotsam floating up and down the mighty Pee Dee River. I have projects that I want to tackle!  I.E. clean the house, get rid of stuff, paint the bay windows of our Victorian home, install a fence for the front yard to keep the dogs off the front porch, plant a herb garden – and MORE – so many things I plan to do in retirement! As a type A personality, I’m used to having many irons in the fire, but where is all the free time? For now, I am not going to worry. I’ll just take each day as it comes and do what I can for that one day. Hmmm…sounds vaguely familiar. Retirement is NOT synonymous with leisure, and there is much more to learn – not just with literature and numbers, but with family and friends.

Birthin' Babies & the Ides of March

Prior to 44 B.C. the Ides of March was referred to the day of the full moon, and thereafter, the Ides became the 15th. However, on March 19, 2011, a full moon was very much apparent; so much so, that it was referred to as a supermoon because it featured the closest full moon since 1993, and it was during these nights of that beautiful full moon with its’ extremely strong pull on the ocean’s tides that my very pregnant daughter called to say, “Momma, will you come spend the night with me?” Of course, my antennae went on alert as my private thoughts shot to Prissy’s memorable Gone With the Wind quote: “I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies!”  And with that thought, the journey of my new granddaughter’s arrival into this world began.

About 3 a.m. the following morning, my daughter woke me with – “I think it may be time to go?”  It was more of a question since she had not walked this path before. She wanted to take a shower…thought that might make her feel better.  “Sure,” I said.  “I’ll just start the car and take the bags out,” but when I checked fifteen minutes later, she was still showering. We needed to get moving! With less than ten miles of travel up the road, her contractions were about four minutes apart. Suddenly, my daughter’s painful words gasped, “…can’t make it, go to nearest hospital!” All of a sudden, the car turned and was headed in the opposite direction; upon arrival, mother’s instinct kicked in – contractions were now less than one and a half minutes apart, and the doctor said she was not dilating any more.  Calls went out to Duke and Chapel Hill about airlifting, and finally, paramedics rushed her to Moore Regional.

For those of you who believe in angels, have you ever felt them around you? I did, and it was not the first time I have felt their presence in my life. It was determined that a cesarean was needed - fast.  Wonder of wonders, my doctor, Buchele, was on the floor that night; he asked my daughter if she wanted someone in the operating room with her; she said, “My Momma.” The Ides had come and gone, and I was on my way, with my daughter, to find out about the birthin’ of a baby.

AND the List goes on

AND the list goes on

Love is prevalent in our being in so many ways:  agape, Christian love (selfless giving), familial, filial love, friendship, romantic, parental, marital, brotherly -  AND the list goes on. We even have love for inanimate objects – objects that have meanings to commemorate a special time, place or person in our life (such as my great-grandmother’s black skillet {crooked smile})!  However, for the past few weeks my thoughts have rested heavily on friendship…the love of a special friend.

We were born as WWII was ending, and we were led to believe that nothing was impossible; as Babyboomers, my generation witnessed so much: the tearing down of the Berlin Wall, President Kennedy’s inauguration speech, Civil Rights Act, man’s first step on the moon, the computer age (internet), credit cards – AND the list goes on.  So many inventions, especially in the field of medicine, have made life easier (home printers, cell phones, video games) and longer (pacemakers, artificial hearts) for those of us who were born at the closing of WWII.

My special friend is now in a major university hospital.  Her surgeons have been considering all the possibilities available to make life a little easier for one with a weak heart – a heart that has been so strong and loving.  There’s that word again – love. Some loves age better with time – such is my love for my friend. My childhood friend and I have shared so much love. We joined the same Girl Scout troop and later trained as Cadet Girl Scout Leaders,  planned parties, played tennis, ran long distances, each raised two children, attended author readings, took long strolls on the beach, expressed our creativity in oil paintings  – AND the list goes on.

To see that sweet smile on her face as she listens to the doctors, her husband, children and friends, hurts.  My prayer is that her strong love will override her weak heart and embrace this new technology. Nothing is impossible; love conquers all –AND the list goes on!

Southerners and Snow

The South is not accustomed to snow storms.  My husband, a transplanted Yankee, loves to make the remark:  “Southerners do not know how to drive in the snow.” I do consider that a true statement!  I, myself, have been snowed in for several days, now, and dare not venture out in that winter wonderland of ice.  Instead, I have used this alone time to clean, tackle little projects, cook cornbread (in my great grandmother’s skillet) and vegetable soup, clean out the refrigerator and experiment cooking with leftovers! I do keep myself busy! Our home, situated on a cliff overlooking a river has a beautiful panoramic view, no matter the season, but I have learned via trial and error, that to try to drive over and through the ravines from that location in order to reach a “salted” road is hazardous and extremely detrimental to my health. Many years ago, our county was hit by an ice storm.  Power lines snapped, yet, we were expected to go into work.  So, I cranked up old “Bubba,” the ’89 Ford Ranger, and proceeded to drive down the shaded one mile gravel road that connects to a country paved road.  Everything was all right until I reached the top of the ravine that has an 80 foot drop down one side into a feeder stream to the river.  A solid covering of “black” ice temporarily daunted my reserve, but upon remembering my husband’s instructions, I put the truck into 4 wheel drive and began the descent.  About half way up the other side, Bubba began to slide, sideways (cattywampus-like) toward the edge of the 80 foot drop. Every time I tried to go forward, Bubba kept sliding backwards toward the edge of that cliff.    Thank you, Jesus, for cell phones!  However, no neighbors answered my desperate calls for help while I sat and slowly slid, but my husband, a trucker and certified CDL and HazMat driver, who was stuck miles away up in Ohio’s snow storm, gave me my next piece of important advice:  “Put the truck in park; pull the emergency break;  get out!”

First-footing

Like most Southern Scots during the depression years, Grampy Norris was highly superstituous; she believed in first-footing on New Year's Day, and it was strictly enforced in her home.  No one, especially females, was allowed to enter her home until my mother's brother, Uncle Ancel, arrived from Greensboro, N.C.  It was always my Uncle's duty to be the first to cross Grampy's threshhold on New Year's Day before the rest of the family was allowed to enter her home. Instead of a lump of coal, which was the old Scottish way, Uncle Ancel would enter the house bearing gifts of a Claxton fruit cake (which she had just given him for Christmas!) and a bottle of Wild Turkey for Norris, my grandfather!  As a young girl, I always thought it was so unfair to be forced to wait outside until my Uncle arrived, but my cousins, Linda Kay and Judy (Ancel's daughters), my younger brother, Lacy, and myself would find ways to entertain ourselves.  Grampy and Norris would cook the finest meal for New Year's Day.  My Mom would prepare the stuffed pork chops at home before taking them to Grampy's house for New Years, but the rest of the meal went something like this:  Collard greens (folded money) seasoned with ham and hot pepper (Norris grew several varieties of hot peppers by the back door steps); black-eyed peas (coins) seasoned with fatback and ham; rack of pork chops (wealth and prosperity) stuffed with cornbread dressing; rice (luck); cornbread in the black skillet (good health), tea (pure Southern) and a round Upside-Down Peach Cake (new beginnings).  The grandchildren knew it was our job to clean the table after these meals, and we would jump at the chance to clean up.  Why?  ...because the grownups were served a nice white wine, champagne or sherry with their meal, and as kids, we thought we were so smart and sneaky by sipping the left overs as we carried the plates into the kitchen! These traditions continue in our families today.  I still prepare the same New Year's dinner, and my brother takes logs of Claxton fruit cake to the parents of his friends!