BY JOELLEN COLLINS
Now that I am a member of the elder generation, as many of my friends are, I am examining the challenges of “aging gracefully.” It isn’t always easy, especially when I don’t want to miss out on things that may happen and on seeing my family mature and tackle life with the zest I can well imagine.
However, I am lucky that my crazy-optimist nature still overcomes the occasional negatives we humans encounter. I am fortunate to have good friends, relatively good health and a supportive and affectionate family. Though I live alone and sometimes miss romance, I am fairly content and enjoy quiet moments and cuddling with my dogs: they ALWAYS welcome me home, in spite of my age!
My summer-school students have just read a story by Jhumpa Lahiri where a young immigrant from India rents a very cheap room near Boston and has to deal with his senile landlady, Mrs. Croft, who is 103! When he goes to visit her with his recently arrived bride from an arranged marriage, the old lady’s simple wisdom changes his attitudes toward her and opens up paths to a better relationship with his wife.
I am reaching a BIG milestone, and my daughters are planning a celebration. I was discussing this with a friend and was reminded of a time when I experienced a fierce joy at being the age I was. When I joined the Peace Corps in Thailand, I was 53, labeled a “senior” and sent to a post near Bangkok, so I “would be near the good hospital” – in case.
Actually, I sidled up to some of the 23-24-year olds at our initial orientation in San Francisco and found them to be very accepting of me. They encouraged my weekend visits to their posts, and as long as I had a backpack, a good book to trade, and an open mind, my age never seemed to matter.
I was to some a surrogate mom or aunt, but I got out and danced with “my kids” even when it was over a hundred degrees and so humid that I wore at all times a wet bandana around my neck. I felt included and sometimes was even asked great questions like, “Omigod, you actually heard the Beatles’ earliest music sitting on a beach in Malibu?”
Thais respected me BECAUSE I was “older.” Seniors there are honored and comforted in ways some other cultures lack. When I was about to leave Thailand, my next-door neighbor, Tawatchi, said, “Mama Jo, we understand that old people are not treated well in America. We’ll never let that happen to you. Please know you can live with us for the rest of your life.” Ten years later, when a friend and I retraced my journeys in Thailand, we visited Tawatchi and his family. They took me to a new bedroom, built, he said, just for me. I felt truly beloved in that country.
Bless those who care about us, even with the floppy skin my granddaughter likes to pet when I visit.
