The Gang's All Here

 Whoop de doo, the gang's all here! We all have to be part of "the gang" to get along socially, but wait. To be completely "the gang" isn't ideal. There is always a tiny part of us that remains secretively, just us, and no one else. It's not a bad part, it's a very good part. Why? It's the part that keeps us who we are while at the same time, measures out what it takes to be so, and how much of our true selves, we are willing to give,  to "the gang". It's a place in us that we share only with those we trust completely : our best friends, perhaps a parent or a mate.  It is what we own about who we are, and we are proud of it and nuture it and try always, to make it better and better. One of the down sides of elders having to go to a home, is preserving that element in ourselves. We don't want to lose it, but we would like to share it with some others.  Aging can make our circle of "gang" shrink as friends and relatives and mates, leave our lives. Sometimes, we are left with ourselves only, and it isn't easy to make another "gang" to be part of. Smiles with, and nice questions of, others that we, ourselves, would like to hear, help. Having opportunities to find a new "gang" is the key. That's when we choose activities, even if they aren't our favorite things to do  to help us find some new companions. That sounds easy, but if you aren't mobile having a vehicle or if you live alone, it's a challenge. Most condos are places where you can join a group that is within the walls of the place: book clubs, game groups, exercising, regular coffee breaks or happy hours. If your place of residence doesn't have such groups, you can always start one.  Hopefully, the activities offered are not the kindergarten kinds of Arts and Crafts that adults of any age would abhor. Please no cut and paste or dab! We elders are not brainless, nor are we children. If you are in such a group and it needs to change, speak out and hope to make positive suggestions. You have rights. Go find your gang or make one, and be happy. 

In The Mood

 Those of us who live on/in the mood lane, are singles. We have the luxury of doing pretty much, exactly as we wish to. I prefer to say "as we like" but I try to write correctly most of the time. I do, however, love living "as I like". No one guilts me into having to eat meals at certain times. I am not a slave to the clock. Any more. Most of us, in my world are single women and they want to stay that way. They' ve left the family wife/life behind them and now they are moving into a lifestyle that is of their own making. Some ladies are still joined to their children which is fine. My younger genetic people,  are on their own and into their own work and times and that is dandy with me. I don't expect them to be around all the time, unless we jointly arrange it. I have a life, too! I live in the mood: meaning that in my food, my condo, my clothing, my social life, I do according to how I feel about each. One day I have a yearning for salad, the next day, soup or stew or steak or stir fry. Times, I like to wear white or brown or pink. It all depends on my frame of mind. I go out or don't go out. My way, my business. Lately, I arise at eight, but in the summer when the mornings are light, I might be up at six or earlier. Again, according to my own personal clock. If at night, I wake up wanting a drink of water, I might stay up and read until three AM and then go to bed again. It's a life free of tick tock. The real tick tock, not the how many likes can I achieve with very little, that the other one begs. I email, not text. I have a land line which sends others into gales of laughter or spiteful eyeballs. Do I care? No. I don't eat until I am hungry which is great for losing unwanted weight because our bodies know what to do and sometimes our minds get it wrong. One meal a day seems to suffice. Single men widowed usually try to find a woman to marry. Why? I'll let you ponder on that one. Single women don't want to marry. The answer to the previous query. It is just after noon and I have idulged and enjoyed making banana pecan pan cakes with butter, no syrup. Ah, my dear lost loved ones, wish you were here, but for now, I love it on this side. 

That Noise Issue

 One of our biggest complaints in human society, is noise. Natural noise, no matter how loud, we can tolerate. Human noise is another matter. Noise can be traffic, industrial, human feet, voices, certain kinds of music and others, but it is an important feature of our environment. Noise can be good or bad depending on its purpose, its qualities, and our tolerance levels. Noise can be too loud, too high, too low, too much, too little, too prevalent, or at the wrong time. Music can be all of relaxing, recreational, irritating and lovely. Our ears, a very sensitive part of our very existence, while unique, can absorb only certain volumes or pitches or ... the list goes on. If you live on a busy street, traffic could annoy or, if as my friend who lives in the city in a condo beside a popular recreational area knows, can be insufferable. We all have our level of tolerance specific to our own ears. I don't favour the too loud boom of bass speakers, thumping footsteps on my ceiling, screeches of  machinery, back-up signals in construction, a baby constantly crying. What are yours? Each person has a tolerance level. For example, if you live in a condo, apparently footfalls are the worst problem now that carpets are out. It seems no matter how often people are asked politely to wear appropriate foot gear to eliminate the situation, there are those who just won't stop. For some reason, if they don't have the problem, they don't understand it. Traffic noise is a bother for some. Before they buy a home, they need to test traffic levels. When  on a plane, there is a child whose ears are in pain due to pressure, cries endlessly, it can be very distressing. In a small boat, engine noise is destructive. Noise can be a real and present  issue that requires cooperation in finding a way to mediate it. Mr. Leafblower, for example, annoys all of us but he has  ear muffs so not to lose his hearing. We don't. We must do something about offensive noise, with understanding but also with the responsibility of protecting our freedom from too much of it. Noise is real. Noise matters, and for our ears' sake, noise demands the cooperation of those can make it reduce to better levels, or to stop it altogether. 

Too Much Of

 No one can have too much of. Everyone is a collector whether they think it or not. One of my grandaughters collected tiny stuffed animals. They  filled her bed but she knew each one and spoke to them and loved them. I often wonder, now that she is grown, what happened to all of her little pets. She has living ones today. Another person I know, collected tiny jugs. One of her walls was lined with them. She could name all the countries in which she and her husband bought them. Another friend had 100 shoe boxes with photos of what was inside. Many men collect tools or cars or ball caps or when boys, military toys. Barbie made collections fun for some children. I am a collector, too. I have all the English royalty mugs from Victoria  to  Charles III and tiny spoons of world travels, but most of all, I love clothing. I have been called a "clothes horse". My fifty cashmere sweaters of all colours, are babied like Midas's gold. Clothes Horses are looked down upon by collectors, and yet there are few women I have ever heard of, who don't hog closet space with their  garment fetishes. Why? Okay, I give mine away bit by bit with the rule of "if you add one, you must subtract one". Someone called me a "fashionista" which was entirely incorrect. Those persons who come in every gender, are special folk who care about labels. I don't. I like fit, especially quality of fabric and make. That's my rule. I'm not interested in impressing anyone and I seldom go out.  I dress by mood. I  go to my tiny dressing room with the bench and the full length mirror, and look  at rows to decide what fits the day. It's fun and a bit of a hobby. I also collect recipes. I can read recipe books that are now passe, with the same reader delight as with my fave writer Sue Grafton. I can almost taste what I read that goes into baking, cooking, frying and barbecuing. Now, I am hungry. Off, in my off-white cashmere, to the kitchen.

Don't Gen Me

 Okay, I'm ninety. My brain plays Bridge online and if the cards are right, my partner and I win at this Almost Chess game. I shop for groceries for my "scratch" cooking, I do my own finances, I sold my car but have a license in case I need it, I have no health problems, I avoid pain pills even though the body I ride around in has natural pain. I move about just like anyone else does: hear the news and see the show. I love my past, present and my future. I live in THIS generation that considers itself a letter of the alphabet rather than what is  accomplised daily. I live today and I am part of today and all that is happening on earth today.  I, and all of us, belong to Gen Now. When I hear pod casts that separate people into generations by age, it annoys me. It appears in this false gen theory that whomever is an age IS and the rest, WERE. Not true. We all contribute to now, not then. Let's look at this fact. In my time on the planet, I was  always the "now" gen. It had nothing to do with a time period divided by human age, into an era where it took credit when only a few greatly contributed to the arts and sciences, and it still doesn't. We are all part of this, or the Now Gen by means that are not direct but by paying our taxes, listening and participating in every day life. We are part of it all Now because we are not of the past, we are of the present, and every single day, we are the Now Gen. As someone of my years, my widom of actually having lived during certain periods that were miraculous or horrific, made me a part of them. I felt them, I gave to them in my small way and you yours as you do also now by simply being here. And now. Time belongs to no one, certainly not to the old or to the young. Time moves as the world turns and it can't be stopped and sliced up in any way that seems more important than another because no one knows what time will bring in the next second. I shudder when I see and hear words spoken that frame me as being aged in a negative way: useless and past, rather than thanking me for over those years, time, paying my taxes that supported what is was happening in that "now".  I think "does the world not know, I am here, I am human, I matter even though I am very old".   "Does the world yruly believe because I move slowly, am grey, have skin lines and need to rest, that I am not part of this vital world just as every single human being that breathes today is, the now?" I am this generation until the moment I die. I am what all the world's humanity or gen is: the Now Gen.