Outside My Comfort Zone

I gave a speech last week, a speech on self-publishing to about 25 fellow Clare residents This was an unusual occurrence for me; I haven't given a real speech since my retirement 12 years ago. (I did take part in two panel discussions in 2008). By now, I've retreated further into my introverted silence and my green leather recliner.

To say that I was nervous would be understatement. I was terrified. For one thing, I can no longer stand for long, so I had to ask for a stool. Of course I got one. I was asked if I wanted to give a Power Point presentation, but I explained that Power Point was just gaining ground when I retired, and I've had no need to learn how to use it (actually, I'd like to, but I don't have it on my copy of Microsoft software -- it's not the professional edition).

So how did it go? Surprisingly well. I actually recycled most of the material from my other blog, Write Your Life! which I no longer work on. In fact, my articles on self-publishing won awards from IWPA and NFPW a couple of years back. My audience seemed interested. Perhaps I'm finally getting my old message about the need for elders to write their life stories across. I even had some questions to answer! I hope those who congratulated me on a good presentation were being sincere. I'm neither well-known nor popular here (partly by choice, partly by circumstance), so this experience left me somewhat elated. If I get a small amount of movement toward a community of writers, I'll be happy, So far, I've inspired two residents to write Rictameters, my favorite poetic form, so there may be hope.

Now if I can only think of some ideas for another self-published book--I really enjoy the process. Speaking? Not so much, but at least I've proved to myself that I can still do it.

A May Update and a Sad Commentary on Aging

In case anybody is wondering, my cracked kneecap has healed, more or less, and my enforced confinement ended with the month of March. It was a rather depressing time, but somehow, since I had little to do anyway, it didn't matter that much. Anyway, I'm basically O.K. and back to my routine, slight as it is. My doctor said everyone living in a senior facility needs at least three regular obligations to keep life interesting. I have them: my Thursday morning volunteer duties at the Washington Street information desk at the Chicago Cultural Center, my regular Sunday brunch with three fellow residents, and my monthly editorial meeting and the editing process for The Clarion, our resident newsletter. I'm afraid I'm no longer able to take long walks (I haven't been for quite some time), but I'm not entirely a hermit. Of course there are numerous activities here at The Clare, but not all of them interest me. I'd like to add a regular blogging schedule, but so far, I don't seem to have much to write about. Perhaps I'll try harder.

So here goes: last week, the Chicago Tribune published an article entitled, "This Old Soldier Won't Just Fade Away: Pushing 90, vet battles to stay in apartment where he and his wife have lived for years." The story affected me, because I've done a lot of thinking about the plights of old people, many of whom may not be as fortunate as I am.

The veteran in question and his wife have lived in a tiny apartment in a Near North high-rise building for a decade, and now the management wants them out by May 31. The issue apparently is not financial; one stated issue is bedbugs, which the vet claims came from extermination efforts next door. However, the real reason seems to be doubts that the couple, childless, can continue to live in a building that doesn't offer social services or help of any kind. The man's wife is described as having "cognitive impairment" and was found roaming the building halls alone and confused after her husband was briefly hospitalized after a winter fall.

I suspect that situations like this are not rare. According to the couple's lawyer, the old soldier feels disrespected, and doesn't want to move. The management has switched from forced eviction to an offer of a month-to-month lease continuation, allowing their lawyer to find the couple more suitable living quarters, but they don't want to move. With military pride, the vet defends his years of military service and points with pride at the mementos hanging on the walls.

It's impossible not to have synpathy for this man and others like him. What is the answer for old people without relatives to watch over them? Where do individual rights end? Aging is inevitable, and cognitive impairment is more common than we like to believe. So what should happen to old people like this? That's a very big problem our society must face, and those of us with the foresight and the resources to avoid such a situation should consider ourselves lucky. One of the problems of aging seems to be resistance to change, and change is inevitable, in more ways than one.

Cracked?

As a resident of a senior building, I thought I was aware of all the ailments that affect seniors, and there are many. Somehow, I came up with a new one, a cracked kneecap. No, I hadn't fallen; I have no explanation for how it happened.

As you may recall, I had both arthritic knees replaced more than two years ago. All went well, and I have been pain-free. Then I suddenly got pain in my right knee about three weeks ago. I was worried, and the pain did not go away, so I finally called my orthopedic surgeon. There's no such thing as a quick appointment for a non-emergency, so I had a bit of a wait. I finally got in last week. Guess what? The x-rays showed a cracked kneecap. I'd never heard of such a thing. The prescription was to wear a "knee immobilizer" (a big black velcro-equipped wrap that keeps my right knee from bending) for four weeks. It is removable, so fortunately I don't have to sleep in it, but imagine having to stagger around with one unbendable knee!

At the end of the four weeks, I see the doctor again. He is expecting the crack to heal by then. I certainly hope so. Most of the time, I have to sit in my recliner with my legs up, so I'm getting a lot of reading, puzzles, and TV watching done, but little else. I still stagger to the dining room for breakfast every morning, but my usual Thursday morning volunteer assignment is on hold until April. I order groceries and supplies from Pea Pod--I'd forgotten how convenient that is. It's expensive, too, but I don't have much choice. I'm skipping most of the activities here at The Clare because my leg isn't supposed to hang down for too long. More fun!

As someone said, old age is not for the weak.

Reading in the 21st Century

As an avid reader of books, I determinedly resisted the lure of the Kindle and its cousins, the electronic readers that have become so popular.

This Christmas morning, among my niece's array of gifts placed under the Christmas tree, there were a beautifully wrapped Kindle and a red leather case with my name on them. Since I never do much about gifts, I was pleasantly surprised. I decided to give the Kindle a try. I was amazed at how fast and easy it was to download a best-seller (John Grissom's The Confession). I like a good crime story once in a while, and this one had many twists and turns to keep me interested. I read it in no time and ordered another book. I'm now nearly finished with that one (Jonathan Franzen's Freedom). I wanted to know what all the excitement was on Oprah. The cost? $9.99 for the first, $12.99 for the second, nearly paid for by the $20 Amazon gift certificate I also received.

So there you have it: I'm hooked on the Kindle. That doesn't mean I'll give up all "real" books, but I'll certainly read more best sellers in addition to the self-published books I've emphasized for a long time. Most of those aren't in Kindle format unless they have amazing sales, as most don't. It's not worth the cost to offer my own books for Kindle publication; they'll never be best-sellers.

We seniors need to give new technology a chance; with a Kindle and a wi-fi connection, a whole world of reading is available, and you can make the type size as large as you like. Pages turn easily, and the device is easy to hold. It's another near-miracle of the modern world.

Christmas Again!

I just returned from Tulsa, Oklahoma, where I spent Christmas with my niece, her family, and my brother. This once-a-year family reunion has become a tradation, and a great one at that.

My niece, Cindy, loves Christmas and Santa Claus. She always has her house beautifully decorated; she actually had her Christmas shopping done by November 1 this year, and the number of gifts under the tree was enormous. The whole process overwhelms me to the point of paralysis, so I'm glad to have someone take care of the whole holiday. Cindy is a great cook, too, so I ate more meals than usual, including desserts. I haven't had to courage to step on the scale yet.

My favorite gift was a Kindle book reader. I had been very skeptical about this, being a lover of real books, but during this holiday I got hooked. Reading seems faster and easier on this little machine, and it's easier to hold, too. I'm not ready to give up real books entirely, but it's nice to know that I can download almost any best-seller for about $10 before it comes out in paperback (I've always been too frugal to buy hard cover books).

I want to thank my niece Cindy, her husband Scott, and their daughter Lauren for getting me into the spirit of the season. I hope this tradition lasts for a while longer, and that I will remain well enough to travel (airport walks are a problem, but there's always a wheelchair if I choose to use one; I didn't this year).

Next comes New Years, and I'm back at The Clare for that. We'll have a special New Years Eve dinner. It's time to get busy on the January newsletter, and I have a lot of puzzles to do and lots of material to read. Winter isn't so bad after all!

Photo: Clare tree in the Ambassador Lounge

Rictameter for December

A Rictameter for December

Fresh snow

All soft and white:

I admire your beauty,

Dread the thought of later days when

Brilliant white turns into dirty gray that

mars the landscape, much as age and

illness mar the promise

of golden years,

Fresh snow.

It's Nice to be Mentioned!

I've mentioned before how much I enjoy seeing my name in print. I especially enjoy it now, since I've not been actively writing or working or doing much of anything in the literary field, or any other field, lately. In this month's The Writer magazine, Jenny Rough mentions this blog and my poetry book (Elder Expectations) in a short paragraph in her article "The Craft Welcomes Writers of all Ages" on page 12. The article emphasizes that writing is something anyone can do, regardless of physical fitness, age limits, or age requirements. Her examples mention a writer who began writing at 14, all the way up to one who is still writing past 100. At 78, I'm closer to the oldest than to the youngest, of course.

As Rough mentions, I have "made it [my] mission to encourage seniors to write." I've had limited success in this effort, although I have encouraged at least two residents of my senior residence to write rictameters (my favorite poetic form) and a few to contribute to the resident newsletter I edit. I'll soldier on in this effort, and even try to contribute to this blog more often. I can't entirely have run out of things to say, lame though some of them may be. A writer never really quits, I guess.

Anyway, Thanks, Jenny, for letting me see my name in print once more. Now if more people would buy my books . . .

Older Animals Can be Active Too!

Remember Cheeta, co-star of those old Tarzan movies? Perhaps you've wondered whatever happeneed to him.

Thanks to a fellow Clare resident who has a second home in Palm Springs, CA, I have found out the answer to a question I didn't even know I had. Cheeta is alive and well, doing abstract paintings in Palm Springs.

Last August, the Clare book club held a Tarzan day. The club discussed Cheeta, a best-selling Hollywood expose purportedly written by the chimpanzee who starred in the Tarzan movies, based on Edgar Rice Burroughs' 25 Tarzan Adventures. After discussing the book, the group had a luncheon of Cheeta favorites, includng Bananas Foster, served by The Clare's Dining Room Manager. While the more "snooty" among you, and among Clare residents as well, may dismess all this as silly, when I found out about it (after the fact), I thought is was a refreshing story. We "art lovers" sometimes forget that art can be fun, too.

Cheeta, perhaps the oldest living primate in captivity, now lives near downtown Palm Springs, cared for by retired singer/dancer Dan Westfall, who inherited Cheeta from his uncle. Cheeta has hius own walk of fame star, enjoys three regular meals a day, and receives two insulin injections daily for his diabetes. Doesn't this remind you of the state of some older human beings as well?

Like us humans, Cheeta is keeping busy in old age. His abstract paintings have sold for as much as $10,000 each (for charity). Great art? Who cares? I think it's an interesting story, further evidence of Jane Goodall's contention that chimpanzees are closely related to us.

The photo above shows Cheeta with his two pantings purchased for The Clare (at much less than $10,000). They may eventually be displayed in a public area, or in the apartment of an animal lover who fell in love with them. To those who scoff, I say, "Loosen up!"

A Rictameter: Time Flies

Time flies:

An old cliche,

Yet oh so true these days

With meetings, puzzles, TV shows

All designed to keep us busy, content.

In youth, time seemed to crawl along:

Plans were made, lessons learned.

Now, not enough.

Time flies.

Admirable or Foolhardy: What Would You Do?

One of the advantages of living in a large continuous care senior residence is the chance to meet fellow seniors of all types. One of the most memorable people I've met here at The Clare is Anne (not her real name). When I first saw her, I assumed that she was near death: shaved head, halting gait, negative attitude. She continued to come to eat breakfast with the Independent Residents, of whom I am one, even though she lived on one of the Assisted Living floors.

When I first met Anne, she was complaining about the trouble of selling her downtown condo, where she had previously lived. This was or had been a problem for many of us during these uncertain economic times. The next thing I heard from her was that she was trying to cancel her contract with a real estate agent and keep the condo; in fact, she planned many improvements and changes to the place, which she obviously loved. I admired her for her forward-looking plans, since she had told me she had terminal bone cancer. She takes an array of serious medications, some of them experimental. She complained often of pain, sleeping problems, night sweats, and other alarming symptoms. One experimental treatment laid her low, so she was forced to discontinue it.

Anne is very intelligent, but like many of us, having trouble dealing with the problems of aging and illness. I started to think about what I would do in her situation (she is the same age as I am, 78). Would I have the courage to make such grandiose (and expensive) plans to move out of a care facility while facing an uncertain and likely brief future? My answer would be no, but I can't fault Anne for her decision. I have never met a cancer sufferer more optimistic and forward-looking, not to mention one having so much energy despite her fragile appearance.

On one hand, I admire Anne for her tenacity. She is very determined (and overly critical of everything, from the food to the service to the staff to other aspects of this relatively comfortable place). Few approve her attituude or understand her desire to move out of this beautiful place. Is she being admiraable or foolhardy? She seemed to enjoy telling me about her struggles with her remodeling contractor to get everything in her condo just right. Yesterday, she finally moved out. However, she confided in me that she knew things would not be the same as they were before.

Even so, all the planning and fretting seemed to keep Anne alive. One of the drawbacks of senior living, especially for those of us with no local family, is the feeling that this is the end, the final move. Of course many healthy seniors here are on the go every moment, but some of us are contented to just relax and enjoy easy living. I do that too much. So I guess I admire Anne more than I condemn her. I wish her the very best, which would include a cure for her cancer. Will it happen? Somehow I doubt it, but Anne is certainly a profile of courage and an example of having plans for the future, even a very uncertain one.

Photo: The Clare, from the Chicago Tribune.