I Know it’s Easter, but . . .
This week has been anything but Holy. Please don’t think I am being sacrilegious. I love Easter. It holds many, very special memories for me, but I haven’t been able to focus on Easter this year at all.
ASA Conference
The first part of the week, I was in San Francisco taking part in the 70th Annual American Society on Aging (ASA) conference. I am 70 years old. Since we had so much in common and it was being held in my back yard, I volunteered to be part of the host committee. This meant attending several meetings online and committing to welcoming folks on the first day of the conference.
While I was assured that there really wasn’t all that much I would need to do, I felt committed to showing up. In my past working life, I had helped in putting on similar conferences, and knew the amount of behind-the-scenes work that needs to be done in order for all the parts to come together. I was anticipating tapping into that energy and really rev-ing up for the 70th year.
Location, Location, Location
The conference was held smack dab in the middle of the Tenderloin. For those of you who know San Francisco, this is the part of the City that locals all avoid. For those of you who don’t know San Francisco, this is the part of the City that is incessantly shown by the media as being Ground Zero for homelessness, drug dealing, folks passed out on the sidewalk, empty store fronts and the hopelessness that comes along with years of grinding poverty, substance dependence, and struggle.
I mention this because it is one of the themes of this week – the gaps between what I am experiencing and what is going on in the world. Here we were gathering, amidst some of the rawest evidence that our society is unable to care for outcasts, many of whom were older men and women. Within the confines of a lovely hotel, surrounded by glitz and good food, addressing policy and sharing research, we were celebrating 70 years as an organization dedicated to aging. Outside, however, the evidence that we haven’t made much progress could not be ignored.
How Does It Feel to Be 70?
The conference was a HUGE success. ASA is run by highly energetic, competent younger people. My skill set was not needed. I did absolutely nothing to ensure the outcome.
The need I fulfilled however, was to have an older person to trot out and say, “Welcome to San Francisco!” I did my part, but left feeling like a valued antique, not an actual contributor to the event. I am not complaining here (well, maybe a little bit). I am, most certainly, being forced to reckon with what is seemingly inevitable in our society. Growing older means negotiating different ways to contribute and be useful.
Changing of the Guard
I am so familiar with how vital it is to hand off the reins of power and authority and step aside to let the next generation take its rightful place. But oh, how I hate to give up my spot! For me, it is about appreciation and recognition. This may be my own neurotic need. For many years I was the one putting things together. I was the one in charge. In exchange for my efforts, I would receive appreciation (and criticism, too).
I can recall in my younger days just how out of touch the older folks were, and how important it was that I be allowed to move things forward. My humility now is fulsome. I offer my apologies to those who went before me. I am so grateful for their patience and generosity, and can only hope to be able to measure up to their standards.
Solo-Agers Face a Different Challenge
The dominant storyline in this country is that the nuclear family perpetuates itself. Thus, the parent becomes the grandparent, and the grandchild becomes the focus of efforts to preserve and care for one another. Grandparents automatically have a role to fulfill in providing childcare, financial support, and handing down traditions and values.
This made me reflect on the gap between aging folks who have children and those of us who do not. For many solo-agers who chose not to have children, the gaps in the social network widen with age. The issue of “Who will care for me?”, which is challenging to begin with, becomes even more so, when the expected generational worker (child, grandchild, etc.) isn’t in the picture.
And Now for A Word from the Weather Gods
And let’s talk about the weather this past week, shall we? I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago. Easter was always a bit of weather-tease. Some years brought tulips and buds on trees, and temperatures warm enough so that I could wear my new Easter dress and patent-leather shoes without anything more than a light coat or sweater. Other years, well, it was snow, sleet, and those yucky ice-crusted snow banks that, in beginning to melt, revealed soot and grime and brown, desiccated foliage.
This year, my corner of Paradise has seen thunder storms, rainbows, roller-coaster temperatures, and what is now being called “atmospheric rivers”. Friends on the East coast are digging out from under feet (yes, feet) of snow in March. What gives?
Looking for Balance in Chaotic Times
We are living in spasmodic times; brief, irregular bursts of terror interspersed with ads for new drugs that will cure all kinds of diseases. Predictions of comeuppance torn away by back door trial techniques acquired only after years of courtroom experience. Promises of change coming from men in positions of power they have held for decades who have little or no incentive to change.
The chasm between what once was predictable and only occasionally upset by an exception, has become daily exceptionalism only occasionally interspersed with soothing regularity. Examples are too easy to find: a stock market that continues to rise while almost every single friend of mine (myself included) feels the pinch of rising prices and the tension that this may not last.
That Doesn’t Make Sense!
Insurance companies pulling out of California because they won’t make enough money because homes WILL burn down and earthquakes WILL happen, and people who have been paying premiums for decades WILL expect to have their losses covered. A bitcoin trader being sent to prison for 25 years, not for trading air, but for not being sorry he ripped people off. Presidential candidates that, for very different reasons, should not be running. Being shamed for saying such a thing!
On the Other Hand
The counterpoint to all of this is, well, Spring! Cherry blossoms in Washington DC are lasting longer than usual this year. A tree I planted 15 years ago in memory of my husband is bursting with blossoms. Birds are singing up a storm. The vineyards are teasing all with a promise of a good harvest.
Wishing You a Happy Easter
This year is one where the intersectionality of religious celebrations is all falling within a week or two of the Vernal equinox. There is Easter, there was Purim and Holi. Ramadan is in full swing and Eid is not far away. Then there is the secular celebration of chocolate, Peeps, and dyed eggs along with ham, lamb, or other roast beasts and the gathering of family.
Whatever you celebrate, please know that I wish you happiness in this special time of year, the joy of celebrating with those you love, and always my gratitude for your taking the time to read my words.