This post was started almost three weeks ago:

My husband is having a procedure at Johns Hopkins Hospital today. The operation was scheduled for 7:30AM so we were told to be at the hospital by 5: 30. Since we live in Virginia we decided to travel to Baltimore the day before and stay at the motel on the hospital campus. A positive was that when we checked in we asked for the hospital patient rate and that reduced our bill by 65 dollars. 

We arrived at the hospital at the specified time.  As my husband Jerry said, we were in time to hurry up and wait. And wait we did till finally he was called back for the preop procedures. After an hour I was allowed to join him. We had been assured by the surgeon that the anaesthesia would be similar  to the amount given for a colonoscopy. When the anaesthetist arrived she told us it would be a general anaesthesia. I was taken aback . Anesthesia in an “older “ person can be the most dangerous part. And now I sit and wait.

I sent out a group text to the family when Jerry went into surgery. The loving replies are very comforting. Waiting is hard. It seemed like about 24 hours before the surgeon came out to talk  pronouncing the operation a success. But probably only three and then another hour and a half before I could join Jerry in the recovery room. I cried when I first saw him – actually he looked good – they were tears of relief. 

The surgeon wanted Jerry to spend the night in the hospital. And said  I could stay with him. Since there were no rooms available on the Urology unit we were moved to the Marburgh pavillion where patients who want an upscale hospital experience can pay extra for gourmet meals and fresh flowers in their rather spacious and well appointed rooms and a chair which converts to a comfortable twin bed where I could spend the night. The staff was extremely pleasant but what we wanted was competence and knowledge of Jerry’s post op requirements. It was fun to be on the upscale floor- particularly since we didn’t request it , we would not have to pay the additional cost –  but I was still concerned that perhaps the staff would not be as knowledgeable about Jerry’s particular issues as they would be on the Urology floor. 

The post op first night was a bit ragged. The promise of early discharge the next day was something to look forward to. But that did not happen. Johns Hopkins is a massive hospital complex: the upscale wing was at the farther end of the of the hospital from the Urology floor. Any questions or issues concerned with Jerry’s discharge had to be approved by the nurse practitioner  who was located on the urology floor. The procedures involved in discharge seemed very cumbersome to us – we couldn’t help but think that if we had been on the urology floor things would have gone more smoothly. It was about six o’clock before we finally were discharged into Baltimore rush hour traffic.

 Driving in traffic does not bother me but ever since my cataract surgery I am not comfortable in dusk or night driving. The clock was ticking to get back to our home in Northern Virginia. I wondered if it had been a smart move to turn down the driving offers of our children but since we had been told of a mythical early discharge that didn’t seem necessary. Two of our five children and their families live fairly close by to our home.  However, this is a very busy time for families with the start of school and other end of summer activities. So, as long as we can handle the twists and turns of life, this is what we want to do! 

The rush hour was typical rush hour but fortunately no serious tie ups so we got home in good time. And thankfully recovery has gone smoothly!!! Trips to the hospital can get more frequent as one gets older – fortunately this one has a happy ending.

Our son just had his 53d birthday which we celebrated with going to a Washington Nationals  baseball game. Twelve of us went to honor Jim and in spite of the fact that we seem to be a bad luck charm for the Nats – in their four game series with the Kansas City Royals they won three and lost one – the game we went to –  but it was a lot of fun. 

However talk about sensory overload. Our family  occupied parts of two rows – one right behind the other. Immediately in front was a TV screen hanging down above us – same thing to the left and right. The loudspeakers and the music were at the highest setting. There was the constant hawking of food. There was the “ presidential race “ which takes place in the fourth inning. Admittedly I am not the baseball fan now that I was as a child and young teen – I was a Brooklyn Dodgers fanatic back then – but now the game is for me a fun family outing and a plus is the yummy hotdogs.

With all the surrounding noise and hyperactivity I could not help but reflect on how major league games have changed. My first game was when I was in fourth grade. It was a reward for a good report card. My mother took my brothers and me – my father was at work – none of us had ever been to a major league game. This was an afternoon game.  I so clearly remember my first view of the playing field. We were walking through the stadium at Ebbets Field trying to find our seats. I felt a bit like I was in a baseball wonderland with the vibrant colors of the uniforms, the green of the grass, the air of excitement. 

It was a game between the Dodgers and the St Louis Cardinals. The Dodgers were my most favorite team but the Cardinals came in second in my list of favorites. We had a small black and white TV – and whenever the Dodgers were playing I was glued to the TV set.

When we finally found the section where our seats were I will never forget my awe as we walked down  the steps to our seats – it was all so unbelievably colorful — so much better than the scene portrayed by the black and white display on our small TV screen. And the pitchers mound was truly a mound –  I couldn’t get over that. Though the game got called after the 5th inning for rain I was disappointed but it was still okay. Not too many children get to see their heroes in person. 

All these memories came bounding back at our most recent  baseball outing. I could not help but reflect on the simplicity of my first game – there was no need for the hanging TV’s ( of course they didn’t exist back then) or the other gimmicks that seem to be needed today to make the games more interesting. Is there a life lesson here  – why do we insist on embellishing events or happenings that standing on their own offer a special meaning that with the embellishments gets lost in the weeds!

As one of our sons said when looking at the group picture from our annual beach week “ Where did all the little kids go?”. As the proud mother /grandmother I can say they are grown into some pretty awesome people.

Having a problem with water in my ear and not finding my bathing cap to be effective ear protection this is the first year I didn’t do more with the water than just stand at its edge or just gaze at its raw beauty. We were treated almost daily to a dolphin display getting a partial glimpse of their bodies as they displayed their awesome water skills. And then one day in a truly magical moment a dolphin  flung itself totally and briefly out of the water. It was a God feeling moment . Can’t get enough of them!!!

Beach Week is our family tradition that just evolved with no thought of making it happen. . Both my husband and I love the ocean and even as young parents with a growing family – five children born in six years – and money tight – we always made time for the beach. 

Certain routines have become institutions  for beach week. Individual families bring their own breakfast and lunch foods but we all gather together for dinner. Each family unit takes a turn fixing dinner for all – it can be a bit hectic when you are charged with providing dinner for 29 – 32 folks but it is only one night and then how relaxing when your turn is done. 

The grandchildren range in age from 12 to 26 , 10 girls and 9 boys. We are blessed with two special needs grandchildren, both teenage boys, one turned 15 in June – he has Down Syndrome –  and the other with autism will be 16 in September. Both boys have a special communion with the ocean water – it is hard to get them out of it at days end. We have learned so much from these boys about what really counts in life. Sure at times it can be hard on their parents but there are also some very joyful times, and some ordinary times which is actually the story of all parenting. And I may be full of grandmotherly bias but the siblings and the cousins of these boys are extraordinarily kind and caring. 

 We usually rent four places to stay, and the families divide up. As the grandkids get older we do not expect them to make it each year but we are touched at the lengths they go to be part of this family tradition. This year one grandchild  came from Serbia – two from California, one from Ohio , the rest from mid Atlantic states. 

In addition to time in the ocean, there is biking , beach walking , soccer, bocce ball,  and crossword puzzle solving. For the cousins and siblings who haven’t seen one another in many months there is also lots of catching up.  When the tide is coming in there are sand walls to be built: a project that various ages participate in with varying degrees of enthusiasm. And every year we take a group picture. There is always a bit of a sigh of relief when that is successfully accomplished – sometimes a” fussy” grandmother is hard to please – she wants the “perfect” picture. 

Also we have political discussions. In a family of our size one might expect quite a bit of variation in political beliefs. But, that is not the case. Our beliefs are very similar. Some of the children and grandchildren  are quite active politically. The only politically touchy time is with those who feel that discussing the present occupant of the White House puts a negative cast on our special time together – we try and honor those feelings. 

One night is what we call family talent night and those who want to participate are warmly encouraged. This year it was on Thursday night , the next to last night of our beach week. The grandson who came in from Ohio brought his keyboard with him and shared with us music he wrote. It was amazing. There was singing and  guitar playing. My husband enjoys singing. One of his best activities is singing with the children and granddchildren. This talent night ended with a precious granddaughter leading us in “Down to the river to pray” . Since most all knew the words it was awesome. I cried. It was such a fitting ending to the evening.

Who knows how long this family tradition will continue? This is the first year I found myself asking myself this question – as so many of our friends have fallen prey to bad health and are not in the position to take on the loving task of organizing something like a beach week. It all goes back to enjoying  each day – embracing its joys and challenges – not focusing too much on the what ifs of life

In 1984 my mother came for a visit and never left – her health declined suddenly and then chronically. She stayed with us for the next 10 months until she died. She was 82 – my age as I write this piece.

My husband and I are currently “snowbirds” in Florida; each year we rent a condo on the beach. In our condo this year, a wall of mirrors reaching from ceiling to floor extends all the way from the dining room into the living room. This was the decorating style of 30 years ago and it is easy to understand why it faded from popularity – I am constantly confronted with my physical self: a posture that needs correcting, or a pound that I may have gained. 

The condo also seems to be a parking lot for unwanted furniture and belongings – eight bar stools crowd around a counter that only has room for three, a variety of eclectic kitchen appliances don’t seem to provide any real purpose, and the closets are stuffed with clothes and fishing equipment.  It was not until November that we knew we could head to Florida in January so by that time the rental pickings were mostly gone.

The intrusive mirrors and objects all serve to remind me of time passing, of aging. The spectacular oceanfront view from the condo balcony feeds this introspective mood. The ocean is calm, wild, overwhelming, nourishing– as have been the seasons of my life.  

My mother was an amazing woman – she and her twin sister attended Fordham Law School in the late 1920’s where she met my father. Mom graduated first in their law school class. My father used to proudly say that though Mom got the class prize for being first academically, but he really got the prize because he won her. 

I do not know what the next weeks, months, or years will bring. My husband and I have taken a pledge that we are not allowed to fall – too many of our friends have seen their lives go into a downward spiral as a result of a fall – not that such a pledge is going to keep us from accidents but it has made us try to be more careful, more vigilant. It is very hard to lose friends, to see people we love decline physically or mentally or both. We lost a dear brother several years ago – that was hard. Not only was he a brother but he was a friend. When I was younger I think I took having friends for granted – not any longer. A friend is a precious gift to be cherished. 

Church going in our area of Florida is popular. In Virginia we are part of a very welcoming, diverse parish called St. John Neumann.  Diversity is very important to us. Toward the end of our snow-birding last year we finally found our Florida spiritual home. At Holy Family Church the 12 o’clock Mass on Sunday has a Mexican children’s choir that we wanted to share with some recent guests but other plans made it more convenient to attend the 5 on Saturday evening. We wanted our guests to have a good church experience but since we had never attended a Saturday service at this church we had our fingers crossed. 

We needn’t have worried. Mass was a celebration for the Philippine members of the congregation. It was in English and in Tagalong.  It was was impossible not to feel the universality of the Church. With all the scandals prevalent in the church today and the feeling of estrangement that can creep in, it was a blessing to feel a sense of belonging even when some of the words being used were not in my native tongue. The bright red blouses and shirts and vests of many of the congregants added to the specialness of the liturgy. 

Many things stand out about Holy Family, perhaps the most important being the welcoming feeling that is pervasive in the smiles  and greetings from staff and the congregation. It is a large church but the different masses that we have attended have all been crowded with a diverse population both in age and ethnicity.

I grew up in an Irish Catholic home where the words and actions of the Church were infallible. Though I do remember my mother was a daily reader of the Bible at a time when lay folks were discouraged from such activity – they were not thought to be educated enough to really grasp biblical meaning – my mother just dismissed this notion. It was not a church teaching that one had to follow – the Bible was just too important to her core beliefs. She was not “showy” in her Bible study but she was not hesitant to defend her daily program if the need arose.

With all the turmoil in the church today I have been doing a lot of thinking about my core beliefs and how I can continue to practice a religion that has been the breeding ground for sexual misconduct. The thought that sustains me is that this is also my church, that the actions of others can not diminish the comfort and joy I feel in participating in the Eucharist. I will not let the behavior of others rob me of my core. 

In a few days we will be returning to our home in Northern Virginia and saying goodbye to our mirrored condo. These almost three months have been a good reflection time for me. This getting older is complicated. It brings with it the responsibility of showing those younger that aging has its blessings! There is still time for new learnings.

For the longest time I have wanted to learn Spanish. I am not very gifted in languages and I gave up on these studies because I was progressing so slowly. I have come to realize that my Spanish pursuits are for my own pleasure – now I am much more patient with myself and I am so pleased when I come across Spanish words or phrases in my reading that I am able to interpret. 
There is a restaurant near our Florida condo that has a dance twice a month where they play Big Band music. The average age on the dance floor is probably mid-seventies. Couples in various stages of physical fitness crowd the dance floor. Several weeks ago the band singer asked us to stand aside and give the floor to a man and his partner while we all sang “Happy Birthday” to the man. He was turning ninety-six. It was so inspiring to see his enjoyment of this special occasion and he was a good dancer. 

Getting older is scary. But within the confines of various health issues it is what we make of it! My faith, my family, my friends, and volunteering for causes I believe in – these have been the foundation for my adult life so far and I pray that I may continue to learn and grow with these as my building blocks. 

And as I look into the cooky mirrors that are part of this rented condo I believe my physical posture has improved a bit in these past three months. And I think the same may be said for my mental outlook toward my 82nd birthday!