70 and holding
The New Fifty
Last month my son-in-law, Doug, called me from Minnesota to wish me a happy birthday.
"Thanks, but don’t remind me."
"Don’t you know that seventy is the new fifty?", he said.
I came back with, "Yes, and eighty is supposed to be the new sixty, " He is such a great guy and the best son- in-law there is, so I didn’t argue or pursue the subject.
But when I hung up, I said to the dial tone, "Yeah, sweetheart, please tell that to my body".
No matter what the real age. There are times when I feel like a child and I miss and need my mom. The teenager in me still thinks I am invincible.
But, the body and the mirror don’t lie. Recently I caught a glimpse of myself as I was walking by the mirror. I said out loud, "Hi Mom" It’s true. Eventually we become our mother.
My mind and memory depends on the day. There are days when I am sharper than a tack. I can remember my first day of kindergarten. I even remember what happened yesterday, which is harder to do.
When I am driving down the lake road, there are days I even know where I am going and what I’m going for.
Then there are times when I open the refrigerator door, stand there with a blank stare, and wonder what the heck I was looking for. Turns out it is never in the fridge.
I know this happens to young people, too. It’s just when you have a few years on the calendar, you worry.
I know in my heart I an not a child or a teenager. I even missed being a baby boomer.
It is very easy to be in denial. But the reality is, it is tough to come to grips with aging. For one thing, people have a preconceived opinion of gray hairs. At least I did until I got some gray hairs myself.
I don’t know why, this last birthday was a wake-up call for me. Maybe it was because I was in shock. It didn’t take long to get to this decade.
But, if I only have 40 or 50 years left on this earth (or just one more day), I don’t want to spend it being an old biddy.
I borrow a thought from my daughter who does not want to surround herself with pessimism. Neither do I. I want my wine glass half full, not half empty.
So, even though I no longer have pearly whites, I’ll keep smilin’. If I wobble a little now and then, I’ll keep walkin’
I’ll try and remember your name, and show up for all my appointments.
Not today, but someday I may be a Red Hat. (With purple flowers on the brim)
Last but not least–I will stand tall and not lean over the cart when buying groceries.
In keeping with the old subject of the day, I have an old recipe to share with you. It’s not really a recipe, but a concoction my mom would put together during the depression. My sister and I were kids. It was one of our favorites.
She used her old soup kettle. She made it and served it in that old kettle, and we would dig in!
Gram’s Salad in a Kettle
you will need:
a little imagination
a kettle
a nice head of lettuce (no brown spots)
what ever leftover meat you have
(Monday was a good day with leftover beef or pork roast or chicken from Sunday dinner.)
Any leftover vegetables-fresh ones, too.
(Tomatoes, green onions, corn, celery, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli and always peas. ( I hated peas, and still do.)
Mix all together in the kettle.
Add dressing: Mix together
Miracle Whip (about two cups)
Sour cream to taste, about one cup
a little of vinegar, sugar, and milk.
salt and pepper to taste
Toss dressing into salad.
Sounds simple. It is. Enjoy.
Last month my son-in-law, Doug, called me from Minnesota to wish me a happy birthday.
"Thanks, but don’t remind me."
"Don’t you know that seventy is the new fifty?", he said.
I came back with, "Yes, and eighty is supposed to be the new sixty, " He is such a great guy and the best son- in-law there is, so I didn’t argue or pursue the subject.
But when I hung up, I said to the dial tone, "Yeah, sweetheart, please tell that to my body".
No matter what the real age. There are times when I feel like a child and I miss and need my mom. The teenager in me still thinks I am invincible.
But, the body and the mirror don’t lie. Recently I caught a glimpse of myself as I was walking by the mirror. I said out loud, "Hi Mom" It’s true. Eventually we become our mother.
My mind and memory depends on the day. There are days when I am sharper than a tack. I can remember my first day of kindergarten. I even remember what happened yesterday, which is harder to do.
When I am driving down the lake road, there are days I even know where I am going and what I’m going for.
Then there are times when I open the refrigerator door, stand there with a blank stare, and wonder what the heck I was looking for. Turns out it is never in the fridge.
I know this happens to young people, too. It’s just when you have a few years on the calendar, you worry.
I know in my heart I an not a child or a teenager. I even missed being a baby boomer.
It is very easy to be in denial. But the reality is, it is tough to come to grips with aging. For one thing, people have a preconceived opinion of gray hairs. At least I did until I got some gray hairs myself.
I don’t know why, this last birthday was a wake-up call for me. Maybe it was because I was in shock. It didn’t take long to get to this decade.
But, if I only have 40 or 50 years left on this earth (or just one more day), I don’t want to spend it being an old biddy.
I borrow a thought from my daughter who does not want to surround herself with pessimism. Neither do I. I want my wine glass half full, not half empty.
So, even though I no longer have pearly whites, I’ll keep smilin’. If I wobble a little now and then, I’ll keep walkin’
I’ll try and remember your name, and show up for all my appointments.
Not today, but someday I may be a Red Hat. (With purple flowers on the brim)
Last but not least–I will stand tall and not lean over the cart when buying groceries.
In keeping with the old subject of the day, I have an old recipe to share with you. It’s not really a recipe, but a concoction my mom would put together during the depression. My sister and I were kids. It was one of our favorites.
She used her old soup kettle. She made it and served it in that old kettle, and we would dig in!
Gram’s Salad in a Kettle
you will need:
a little imagination
a kettle
a nice head of lettuce (no brown spots)
what ever leftover meat you have
(Monday was a good day with leftover beef or pork roast or chicken from Sunday dinner.)
Any leftover vegetables-fresh ones, too.
(Tomatoes, green onions, corn, celery, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli and always peas. ( I hated peas, and still do.)
Mix all together in the kettle.
Add dressing: Mix together
Miracle Whip (about two cups)
Sour cream to taste, about one cup
a little of vinegar, sugar, and milk.
salt and pepper to taste
Toss dressing into salad.
Sounds simple. It is. Enjoy.
posted by Shirley | 6:12 PM
1 Comments:
Mom,
the e-mail I sent courtesy of Carol S was so fitting to go along with this post.
Become our mothers...are you kidding...I already pass a mirror and say, "Oh God, I am my mother." Someday when you are gone, I too will pass that mirror and say, "Hi Mom". That won't be for a long, long time, so for now and today, "Oh God, I am just like my mother!"
kel xoxoxoxox
p.s. Doug is the BEST!
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