Celebrating Senior Women

In the 1980’s and 1990’s, I loved shopping at Marilyn’s Fashion-a-tions. As I admired up-to-date fashions, Marilyn would appear, wearing her million-dollar smile. How about this little number? she would say, showing me an outfit I would never have chosen for myself. Then, while I was in the dressing room, Marilyn would come to the curtained door and say, Try this belt, it’s the newest thing … or, This dress looks like you! When I wore Marilyn’s fashion-a-tions to work, the compliments flooded in! I still wear some of the treasures I found on those shopping sprees. After 43 years, Marilyn and her daughter, Cheryl, closed up shop—a relaxing change for Marilyn, but such a loss for Auburn! Mother and daughter are still into fashion, though, writing and narrating commentary for fashion shows all over our area; and, as you can see, they still have their million-dollar smiles! 

“Save room for dessert!” When Sherrie Erickson walked into our potluck with her pie carrier, we knew we were in for something special, so I grabbed her. “Can I share your recipe on Bright Ideas?” She smiled kindly, knowing I’m a roving blogger. Here’s how she does it: Make a Crisco piecrust from scratch–a storebought pie crust will do. While the crust cools, mix 4 oz of cream cheese, some lemon juice, some Kool Whip, and some vanilla yogurt together and spread it on the base. Set aside. Using 2 lbs of beautiful strawberries, cut some into small pieces, smash a few more, and heat slowly with 3 tbs cornstarch until it’s thick and a real pretty color. Sugar to taste. Pour on top of the cream cheese mixture and chill. Top off with the rest of the strawberries, cut up big. That’s honestly all there is to it! Bright Ideas readers–if you make Sherries’ Strawberry Pie, email me to let us know how it turns out. I’ll pass it on. 

This morning, sitting at my computer, it occurred to me that maybe my readers would be surprised to learn just how my heart pounds on Monday morning as I prepare to send out Bright Ideas. I’m no computer geek! I think. What if I press the wrong key and don’t know how to fix it? You see, I am basically a “fearful” person: afraid of big dogs, driving at night, hurting someone’s feelings, falling (now that I’m 81) talking too much, not being loved—the list goes on and on. Still, I’ve learned through the years I’m capable of facing down fear and winning. I’ve learned mistakes are keys to fulfilling my dreams. I’ve learned to see my strengths and give myself credit. I’ve learned to stand tall through rejection and abandonment. In other words, I’ve learned to Be afraid and do it anyway! This is not just my story … this is our story—the story of every senior woman I know. I’m talking about YOU!  I’m so proud of us!   

“A fiduciary is a licensed professional who manages personal finances, trust assets, day-to-day financial, legal, or medical needs, and/or settles estate distribution and debts—all when a client is, for some reason, unable to take care of these things themselves.” How long have you been a fiduciary, Joanne? I discovered this niche, my ideal job, 34 years ago.” It’s your “ideal” job? Absolutely. I respect people who want to be responsible by making sure all the loose ends of their lives are tied up when the time comes. I’m compatible with them, because I want to be that kind of responsible person, myself.” She pauses a moment, thinking. “Besides that, I’m honored by the trust placed in me. I take pride in being trustworthy.” Thank you for explaining your job, Joanne. I can see that, while being a fiduciary is done with pen and paper, it also requires a lot of heart. “I like doing a job that takes heart,” she says. “I wouldn’t want a job that AI could do!” 

Spending my retirement years in a senior mobile home  suits me just fine. My mobile sets on its own small lot, giving me plenty of privacy. True, I don’t own the land beneath my home, but the amount of my annual property tax is a delight; and my small flower garden gives me ample space to express my outdoor creativity. The real joy of this lifestyle, though, are the friends down the street and around each corner. Our senior mobile home park is truly a community of peers, cheerfully sharing this unique stage of life. Karen Wells is one of us. As we walk past #215, we look forward to the day her peonies, (a sentimental favorite of her grandmother,) burst forth, announcing the coming of spring. One day recently, when Marcia Nelson and I arrived at Karen’s home, the peonies were there, in all their glory. I hope you can see in these photos how spectacular they are. Like the welcoming smiles of treasured friends, they take our breath away! 

When I complimented Kathey on her tidy house and she confessed she never made a bed until she was on her own at age 20, I had to know more!   I grew up in the 40’s and 50’s, she explained. My mother was a housewife and mother, par excellence! She wore a dress and apron every day. She sewed almost all my clothes. The cookie jar was always filled with home-baked cookies. Mom ironed everything and attended a quilting bee each week.    Did she seem happy as a housewife? Mom was usually smiling, but who knows? She might have had her secrets.   Did you always want to be a housewife, like your mom? Oh, no! I admired my aunt who was a secretary and wore high heels. I thought she was so glamourous!    Knowing what we know now, Kathey and I agree—being a “housewife and mother, par excellence” back then was not easy. In fact, if we could go back we would say, Thank you, Mom!  much more often.

“Lisa, you did something many women only dream of: you wrote a memoir. Can you tell us how it’s done?” Step by step, Lisa narrowed it down: First, I decided who I wanted to share my memories with—my ‘audience.’ Then I jogged my memory with a few saved notes, yellow with age. From there, I looked up old friends from way back and we talked about old times. Of course, I researched the history of that era–but AI did not write my book! All along, I called on my persistence. (I wrote and rewrote for three years.) When I started to lose confidence, I forged ahead. Finally, friends read my draft and gave me feedback. True … I’ve studied the art of writing for years; but don’t worry, there are many ways you, too, can learn the craft.   So, come on! Use Lisa’s list and get started telling your story. For inspiration, read her memoir—as lovely as the picture on the cover (which she painted herself, while on the adventure she depicts in her book.) The Rain in Spain is available on Amazon.

To me, ‘astrology’ was my daily horoscope; but when I heard Claudia Beckwith say she once taught an astrology class, I became curious. What, exactly, is astrology?  I asked her.  “It’s an ancient belief system describing an individual’s personality and predicting that person’s future, based on the position of the planets at the moment of birth. Is it a religion?  “Oh, no! Astrology is considered paganism by religions; but the Vatican has a huge section on it, so, who knows?” Does it tell the future like Taro cards?  “ No. Astrology uses mathematics and charts to determine what the planets are saying.” Hmm. One more question: Do you believe in astrology? She paused. Then with a sly smile: “To me, astrology is a mystery—and I appreciate the mysteries of life. If everything is written in the stars, I can go with the flow instead of getting into a tizzy when things go wrong … and I like imagining what tomorrow might bring.” Interesting! I’ll bet Claudia could write super horoscopes!  

When Barbara Jean (“B.J.”) Wong and Colleen Lewis visited my home to tell me about learning and performing hula, I didn’t expect them to arrive looking so pretty—with flowers in their hair and handmade Hawaiian gifts for me. I was even more delighted when I saw the musical instruments they brought, some of which are handmade by the hula haumana (students of hula): a large double gourd (ipu heke,) split bamboo called pu’ ili, and feather gourds called uli uli.     “Hula students gather at the halau (hula school) to dance,” Colleen explained. “When the ipu heke (double gourd) sounds, the kumu hula (teacher) calls out, “Makaukau?” (“Are you ready?”) The students answer, “Ae!” (“Yes!”) and dancing begins.      “We met at hula in 2011, B.J. said. “Now, here we are, 15 years later, still friends and still in love with hula.” Then, to the recorded sound of drums, B.J. called out, “Makaukau?”  “Ai!” answered Colleen, and they began to hula, right in the middle of my dining room! 

Each holiday season, Mary Diefendorf wakes up thinking: What dessert can I surprise Margo’s group with this holiday? (“Margo’s group” is a collection of single, senior women who meet each week in a potluck gabfest.) This Easter season at Margo’s gathering, I quickly snapped pictures of Mary and her Easter dessert-art before they could be gobbled up: cookies with grass-like coconut icing, adorned with tiny sugar bunnies and valentine hearts. “Have you always been a dessert-artist?” I asked. It all started when I was little,” she said, with that faraway, “remembering” expression so familiar to women at our age. I spent a lot of time alone, in my sandbox, making mudpies and wishing I had playmates to serve them to. I sampled one of her cookies. Yum! As always, Mary’s dessert-art was creative, thoughtful, sweet—and made with love for us, the grateful playmates Mary wished for in her sandbox.