Fitness

Fitness is the "big thing" these days, and I am not talking running and fitting oneself into an iron maiden sweat machine at the gym. No. I speak of things like fitted sheets and the fit of garments. How to fold a fitted sheet ran its time on YT. And I have yet to struggle with a fitted sheet that is easily put on even though I buy the correct size. Why? The sheets I buy, do not shrink and I have an average Queen Sized mattress, so how come, none of the sheets that are fitted, fit easily. I have broken fingernails to prove the challenge. Can't manufacturers make them a couple of inches bigger so that I can make the bed and run instead of planning my bed-making day in  how to fight with my sheets. And then there's the matter of clothing fits. The latter is something I have occasional fits over. How many size twelves or tens or fourteens are there? I have to admit that I buy on-line often, and no excuses for that, but when it comes to the little box on the order that says size, I become nervous. Hmm, say I, should I go bigger if its made in East Asia or should I trust the number I am looking at, to be actually what it says? What makes me really antsy, is a size that reads, One Size Fits All. I know it's either going to be a family tent or else it's something that needs sending back shortly after I extricate myself from it. The same goes for shoe fit. How hard is it to find a true size in shoes and furthermore who makes these things? Is it someone who is a size zero?  International markets may be global but size doesn't seem to "fit" into the scheme of it. To put on a label that reads "one size..." simply does not work. I have traveled the world and in every one of the countries I have been to, the streets are full of all sizes and varying heights. One size does not fit all, logically. And then there's, the S,M and L, not to mention the X. There can be one, two or three Xs. What I have gleaned from on-line ordering, is to find  a brand that has sizes you know and trust, and order with confidence from that source. If you can find it. Would there be any reason why inches or millimeters could not be used instead of "size 12". What does "size 12" mean? 12 what? Why not just state the numbers of the garment's dimensions: chest, waist, hip, limb length? Is it a conspiracy by the Returns departments to keep them employed? Is it national blindness in the marketplace? Or is it my frame that defies their symbols?  And it seems the expensive designer outlets see only people with personal trainers or anorexics. To get into one of their garments, you have to be a perfect size 4, horrors if it's a gigantic 12, and you must be six feet tall for the sake of the hemline. Not to worry, they have "large" models and  new lines having catchy names like Elegant Elephant or Hip Hop Hippo. I jest. But still, marketplace, why not find a way to sell clothing with true measurements? It can't be that hard.

Friendship Patina

Old friendships are often ones that are showing signs of wear. They are like precious metal that has the marks of time which grow only more unique and special as a result of aging. Some friendships along the way, end. They don't end through boredom or anger. They just lose their effect through the changes that time makes. Our childhood friends, the ones we played with, are ones we remember forever. We grew up together with all of the changes that only little friends can understand and share. Play is probably the secret to all good friendships at any age. Playing games or sports with others, makes for team work, and that's mainly what friendship is all about. We give and we take and we add ourselves to create something of value for both of us. Close friendships are the most complex. There are no secrets and everything is talked about. It's therapeutic.  Much as I might enjoy a friend's company, I find it hard to listen endlessly to  personal trials other than medical ones. Jealousies, rivalries, family angst and those sorts become a trial when they go on indefinitely. Sure, I will listen because that's what friends are for. But, "I don't want advice, all I want is to sound off" can be a test of friendship. We friends, however, continue to lend our ears, even though it is tiring and we fully know the answer to solving our friends' problems no matter how elusive they are. We daren't give that advice if we are good friends, for it may break the friendship rule of not pushing counsel. We're there to listen only. Friendships change when our friends move away. We resort to e mailing or phoning. Phoning is fine for a while but e mail is best. It doesn't require an immediate answer. Neither, is as good as being there. A couple of my friends from high school days continue to keep in touch at birthdays and Christmas, even though we haven't seen each other in person for decades. It's nice to know my old friends are still  somewhere as part of my history. And then there's death that completely ends friendships. These endings are the most difficult. Some of my dearest friends continued e mailing right through the  trials of their illness treatments such as radiation and chemo-therapy. They seemed to need  someone to talk to in the sort of impersonal manner that e mails offer. It frees them to say how they feel without  tears or frowns or hearing what they don't want to hear with someone facing them. It's a privilege.  People who are shut-in also seem to like this e mail arms-length method of saying things they wouldn't or couldn't say to anyone  present. As you age, and your circumstances change, friendships come as always, in varying styles. Some are  people you know little, others are fast friends or distant relatives and still others are people you are very close to. Some friends aren't of your tastes, or beliefs or gender, but all  can feel free to speak to you in friendship. Some messages are light and casual while others are deeply disturbing and there are also those that make you laugh. Each and every friendship is valuable and makes up a beautiful patina on the silver of one's pending years.  

Getting Fresh

In The Day, "fresh" meant someone who stepped over the boundary of decorum and flirted openly with a gal or a guy. "Fresh" today connotes vegetables or meats that haven't been around for a long period before hitting the sales counter. The other day, I watched a movie in which three renowned chefs, all male of course, were to put on a special dinner for hoards of people who knew their food and wine. Their country was elsewhere. Most of the ingredients were local and fresh. And while it was fascinating to see how these masters of cookery sought out the most naturally grown products for the table, one of them horrified me by using as his prime ingredient MSG. That additive which I know, I know, has a natural origin, disagrees with me in a rather violent manner. Most people I know also do not get along in various degrees with that item. Witnessing this chef's defense of MSG, I lost my trust in the whole thing. He touted it as a "flavour enhancer". So is sugar and salt and smoke and aspartame but it doesn't make them good for our general well-being. When, oh when, are we going to stop using a long list of additives to our foods. First, we don't know the generational effects of them since they are relatively newish and second, what's wrong with fresh from local markets as flavour? This country is going to be, and in some ways, already is, the "food basket of the world". Our climate with global warming (there is such a thing if you'd care to check rising temperatures on earth) gives us a front row counter top for offering the world the generosity of our land, a future food garden. Those working have no excuse for using stuff glopped out of a cardboard box or plastic container and calling it "dinner". They pass by markets on the way home from work, and on the weekends what is better than a family trip to the neighbourhood farmer's market just down the street? There is also opportunity for apartment dwellers and condo mondos to grow pots of certain herbs and greens right on their balconies and patios. No excuses such as "no time; I work". The relaxation therapy of watching basil or parsley or chives grow right before your eyes is worth a lot of valium or beer. Watering and watching growing things gets you back to your own roots as well as feeding yourself in the most rewarding ways possible. We don't need MSG when there's the flavour of FRESH around.

Smaller IS Better

When you've looked at something from both sides, you have perspective. I've lived in houses with space more than a couple of thousand square feet and later, slid into a condo with much less than a thousand. Which is preferable? You know the answer when you're walking behind a broom or a dust cloth. Urban small is the new trend. We are all well aware that the breadth of a diamond doesn't mean it has quality. Quality of life is its sparkle, and you don't get much of that pushing a vacuum around house floors that you rarely tread. My move to a small, very small, but elegant place  with great people, was the best one. Lots of you, I know, are asking yourselves if you should leave the big family house and opt for a nice condo somewhere in a convenient setting. My advice is: go for it. A, the biggest and hardest lesson in life is that "you can't take it with you". B, is that your big empty house is wasteful. Big  house space wastes environmentally, and personally, and I am not talking investment. "Big" wastes your precious time. Go for life quality, not  quantity. I learned getting rid of all of my "treasures",  left  more time to enjoy the ones that mattered: family and recreation. When I had the bigger house, there were many nice rooms but most of them, most of the time, just sat there needing dusting. When I did get around to doing it, the job was drudgery  Sure, it was nice to walk amongst the memories, but the maintenance made for imbalance. I was loaded down with keeping up something I didn't need - or want, latterly.  Down-sizing is scary, but once the "stuff" goes, the rest is delightful. It's the idea of doing it, that deters. Mother's china and grannies silver are memories, and thus, you never lose them.The new small urban condo-style homes are  luxurious and  offer huge amounts of natural light and an opportunity for socializing and for easy gardening on your deck or patio. My kitchen, living room, dining area and laundry are all close in what's called a  Great Room and truly, it is great! Everything is not more than an arm's-length or so away, and that saves steps that can be applied to a walk or run outside, later. Cleaning and dusting become an if-I-can-see-it job. Floors are no longer carpeting that needs shampooing but still isn't truly, clean. Someone else now does the windows and hallways and main gardening  gratis. Cooks and bakers can hone their habits and men who grieved giving up their work shops, soon get used to spending energies on the golf course. People sail or fly off to exotic places knowing their homes are watched over. I'm not saying condo life is ideal in every aspect, but the size factor is complete gain. Being in a different version of neighbourhood  has morphed to group events that take place right in the tower or town house row or trailer recreation centre in which you live in your downsizer. Crafts and hobbies and volunteering are only a step away. If you don't already realize it, you deserve a break and to learn that smaller IS better.

Give It A Rest

Here you are: retired at last and everything you worked for and lived for, is now. But there are some people who are not happy about that. They say they spent all those years giving more than what they were paid for, and need to "pay back". Pay-back to me is what you do when the tug-of-war has gone too far, you've lost, and you pay back that line, and hit the mud laughing. But that's irresponsible you say.  Not in my book. What I learned about pay-back is valuable. First, you've already paid. And if the pay-back pushes you too much, it's time to give it a rest. Once when I was still on the job, one of the retirees came back to hang around the coffee room and wallow in the welcome-homes. But that's a luxury for those still on the job. The individual, well regarded and liked, once risen well up in the business, felt he had something to offer and would return and set up a group to proffer his "valuable" advice. He volunteered to give them the gold of his wisdom. The group's  reception though polite, because methods had changed, turned out to be disastrous and it rather broke the poor man's heart. He needed to give it a rest.  When you are of an age, your mind is still keen and creative and sharp even though somewhat out-dated, but your aging body, in fact, is tired. It needs a rest and tells you in many ways. There are exceptions. I recall, years ago, attempting to climb a mountain with those who had much better ability than mine but I had a strong need to get to the top of that thing. Off we went and less than one hundred feet from the peak, my body just quit. My feet wouldn't take one more step and although my brain was not happy about it, I had to sit.  I  waved the others on. I had reached the peak of my mountain and it was either accept the fact and be happy or become boring and morose. We can't all reach that peak and go as far as our spirits tell us to, but we can get as far as we are able, with what we have. We're all different physically, but for some odd reason we all think we can reach the same "peaks". For example, the only running I can do now, is in my dreams. But I do have the time to meditate as long as I wish and to write and to read and interact with my fellows every day. Work and the achievement of visible goals is no longer necessary. I am already here. This is the place: today, next week, next year. My time. My peak.

Perspective

Very clever physicists know how to explain the element of time and space. But it doesn't take an Einstein to know that given time, perspective increases. Being widowed presents, among other challenges, the matter of constantly assessing the past. At the beginning of the journey after losing a loved one, what often turns up is guilt. Sure, you recall the beautiful memories of which there are legion, but small guilts somehow creep in. You begin to question privately those little things that you did or said and they were not nice or they might have seemed harmful.  What did I not do? What could I have done? Why did I? Why didn't I? and so on. While we are aware that what we really did, is simply to live from day to day with all the natural I-am-going-to-live-forever actions that we all have, those niggling doubts creep in. It is human nature to want to improve everything and make life perfect. There is no perfect life. That feature of our natural being can be helpful or harmful, therefore, we have to harness it. After a death,there is no way to discuss things with the person who is gone. It's a one-sided conversation. But if that person were around, they would likely tell you that it was no big deal and to just forget it and get on with the life you are so lucky to have. Time gives one perspective the longer it goes on. Perspective can be a positive thing. Like the old perspective pictures in Art Class, the road, the telephone poles and all, end up far away on the horizon and finally disappear into a dot. That dot is a period that denotes "the end". It's not that you will forget the person that once was in your life, it's that now is now, having had the benefit of knowing the individual who was so dear. Nothing that you did during the course of that time with that person, was wrong or should cause guilt. Guilt is owned by the person who carries it. Grief can become positive and turn into only memories of the good times if you let it. What you think you did to cause guilt, died with the life that is gone. Only you keep those negatives alive. When you are ready to do it, you can imagine that you have dropped the guilt and have traveled onward a long way. Now, looking back, all there is, is  that tiny dot on the horizon. It's a very small dot. You are free now, and can move forward with all of your good memories.

Sound Reasoning

In a wood frame condo building there is one major situation that  doesn't usually occur in concrete structures. Noise. In the days of carpeting laid everywhere in units, noise disturbance was little to complain about. Any group living facility deals with noise of some sort. Party noise, after hours noise and outside noise among others, can be dealt with in forming bylaw rules. These days in wood-framed buildings, the hard floor fashion creates a whole new problem. Where I live in a five story complex, noise was early on, one of the most talked-about matters. The phrase "like a herd of elephants" was rather commonly heard, however, softly. To the credit of the fine folk I live with here, the noise factor is very much alleviated when those downstairs work with their neighbors upstairs to eliminate most of the sounds of footsteps. Woofers and tweeters on stereo systems are another thing but that, too, can be negotiated between neighbors. In most cases, the common-sense rule is: if you can hear it, it's too loud. But footsteps being what they are, make for quite another situation. One of my neighbors solved it by putting a new pair of slippers outside the upper resident's door with a note inviting a meeting of the two over tea to discuss solutions. The situation was fixed peaceably. Most people living over others have the courtesy to use soft heeled shoes or slippers as a considerate gesture. Going barefoot does not work. Barefoot heels have a tendency to act as "thumpers" with every step. Besides, those using bare feet, are not doing their heels justice either. No one wants a plantar fascia to deal with on walking hard surfaces barefoot.  The one matter that must be faced, is that those living in community buildings, own their living space whether they rent it or not. It's their living space and they must have the freedom to enjoy it. But there is also cooperation necessary in community living places such as apartment condominiums. When you are in a multi-resident wood-frame structure, there is little entire privacy. It's best to think about that before moving into one. The people who find group living most difficult, often are those who owned their own homes originally. All noises were ones they made under their own roof. In a building like the one I am in, I know when my upper neighbor rises and goes to work or bed or out on the deck. I know their bathroom habits in the fan and flush systems, their cooking times due to the stove fans. I know many of their goings in and out from the door closing sounds. They are not loud people; they are simply living their natural lives and I appreciate their kind consideration in that they, evidently, use soft shoes because I really cannot hear the thoughtful folk walking about. I do not hear their music or the barking of their dog or loud voices. I am one of the lucky condo dwellers.

Age Of Reason

The other day, someone asked me what my goals were and I surprised myself in saying that I had none. Nope, no goals. When you get to the Age Of Reason you have achieved most, or all, of the goals within your reach and are at the doorstep of saying good-bye to the gift of the life you have had. Don't get me wrong. It doesn't mean anything morbid. It is a simple fact of life, that aging into what is termed "a gift a day"space, is truth. You have had a good marriage, family, friends, career to its end and visited much of the world. You have had a very pleasant and rewarding life and therefore, goal-making is no longer necessary. Of course, you still want to make a Grand Slam at the Bridge Club and read your two hundred books of note and keep reasonably healthy, but the rest, well, who really cares? It would be easy to give up, don the flowery dress, saggy stockings and clumpy shoes, let your hair go gray and sit-nap all day long until it's over, but it doesn't work that way. While you don't have goals per se, you can begin to see life and feel and how precious it was and is. You can take the time to watch birds without all the fancy gear hanging on your shoulders, enjoy the garden someone else weeds and spend as much time as you wish doing what you wish. There's no need to plan trips to a sunny places, endure horrendous airports,  board cruise ships to eat yourself silly or hit, kick or toss a ball for hours on end or sit and watch someone else do it. You can stare at the sky, a tree, the sea, a creek or a bee for as long as you wish, and in that endeavor, learn what life is and what it was all about. Some people meditate by contorting  themselves into human pretzels, making odd groaning sounds and call it peaceful, but I know that staring into space without the hassle and expense of Lulu L or pounding the pavement sweating your knees off is not getting you anywhere any faster.  At last there is time to be sensible and let your body guide you for a change. There is no harm in resting after your decades. Other people can look at you askance, and assess your state of wrinkling or fat or creeping gait, while you just let it all slide by and smile into your day. You've done your work and now it's time to enjoy each breath and taste and smell and touch and sound. None of the goals the rest of the world is stressing out about: money, status, fashion, all the rest, matter a whiff. You are heading in the same direction, to the same Great Equalizer, every other human being on earth will end up as, no matter the color, the faith, the wealth, the position, so why worry? Enjoy every day large or small without complaint. It's all you really have, and all that matters.