Every now and then you read something or someone says something that resonates deeply with you. This happened to me a couple of years ago when I was talking to a close friend about the pros and cons (mostly cons) of having grown children & subsequently grandchildren who live out of town. She brought up the situation of a woman she knew who struggled to keep up a close relationship with her children even though they lived in the Chicago area. Her friend was so desirous of seeing her children and grandchildren that she would change her plans at the last minute if one of them called with an invitation. Even if she didn’t feel well, she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be with them. She “chased her children” as my friend so eloquently put it.
This comment really impacted me and I knew immediately why. My four children all live substantial distances from Chicago (none are in Illinois). One of my daughters is married to an Australian and lives near Sydney, Australia. To add to the mix, she is presently the only one of my children who has provided a grandchild and has another baby due.
I can hear it now-you are thinking “Wow, you sure have a nice place to visit.” Yep, it’s true. I can pay $1500 and sit on a plane for 18 hours in order to visit my daughter and her family. Of course, first I have to clear it at work and since I only get 2 weeks of vacation per year (and can’t carry any days over) it makes it kind of difficult to arrange.
The last I heard, unless you are a card-carrying terrorist, Australia is actually open for anyone to visit. You too can pay the fare and sit those interminable hours on the plane. Once you’re there you’ll do a hell of a lot more site seeing than I do. So, the “You sure have a nice place to visit” comment doesn’t really make a lot of sense.
My other children live in New York (not so bad, only one hour away), Denver and Flagstaff. More nice places to visit, I suppose. And I do - visit that is. The problem is that there is always a sense of urgency since the time together is limited, it’s expensive (you should see my credit cards), and for someone who works full time, it’s not very practical. Yes, there’s email, phoning and webcam as well and I’m grateful for all these developments. But nothing beats a true, in-person get together. Just try hugging your phone the next time your kids call and you’ll see what I mean.
As for my kids, I probably don’t have to tell you. Their lives are full with work, friends,”significant others”, gym time, texting time (major, in the case of my New York daughter), etc. At their stage of life, spending time with Mom is not as important to them as it is to Mom. I get it; I was the same way at their ages, but we Baby Boomers are still tied to the philosophy that we should cherish our parents and care for them, even if it does interfere with our lives. Don’t get me wrong; I’m thrilled that all four of my children are independent, healthy adults. I want them to have lives of their own; I just want to have some small share in their lives whenever possible.
I can see you all shaking your heads. It’s true – even those of you who are lucky enough to have your children and grandchildren in the Chicago area or nearby are subject to many of the same frustrations. Your kids work, have friends, travel, entertain, and have fully developed lives that make it difficult to find time for Mom (and Dad, if he’s around). Most of my friends complain that they don’t see their children often enough, and that situation is not their choice. They cherish each invitation and clear the decks when one arises. I also have friends who only hear from their kids when they need a baby sitter or financial help. Not good – I wouldn’t like that. But we love them, so we take the bitter with the sweet.
As for me and my family, of course, we work it out and since planes can fly in any direction, they do their part to visit me as well. When they come to Chicago my time with them is meted out to me in hour-long segments (just like if they lived here). There’s their Dad to consider (we’re divorced), friends from high school & possibly college, etc. They check their watches and cell phones frequently. If I want to spend real quality time with my kids, well, the mountain has to go to Mohammed.
This all being said, you can find me about four times a year at O’Hare. I’m not taking a site seeing vacation, or a beach vacation, or a business trip. I’m one of the middle aged women standing in line at the security counter on my way to New York, Colorado, Arizona or Australia (fill in your own destination) to spend some time with those people who mean so much to me.
So, hand me my boarding pass and don't bother me. I’m chasing my children.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Finding the Box
My ex-husband went through a cleansing process at the time of our divorce. Even though he initiated the divorce and insisted on going through with it in the face of my tearful pleas, he must have felt some degree of conflict. I don’t know if he felt badly about the end of our 25 year marriage for what it meant to him or if he merely felt badly about the devastating effect it had on me. At any rate, someone must have told him that the best way to put your past behind you is to put it in a box and put the box away. I can only guess this since this is what I was told by a well meaning counselor when I stumbled into her office begging for help. I was unable to do this successfully. The closest I got was to eventually wake up in the morning and not have the end of my marriage be the first thing that popped into my mind. For me, this was progress!
It’s been fifteen years since my divorce and not a day goes by that I don’t think about my marriage in some capacity. I have moved along in my life (“Get over it” said all my friends, especially those who have never been divorced) and I have in many ways. But I never put my marriage into a box and put the box away. My ex-husband and I met when we were still teenagers and had 4 children during our 25 year span as husband and wife. There were things that were not so good but there were certainly many things that were very good. Those memories are worth preserving. I will never banish those years to a place where I cannot peruse them. Yes, sometimes it makes me feel sad, but it’s still worth thinking about the time in my life when my children were young and so was I.
I guess my ex found that box where you put the things you don’t want to remember. He’s remarried (he did that immediately) and has totally reestablished a new life with his second wife. As for me, well for him I don’t exist. He doesn’t have a single picture of me (I’ve been told this by many people) and the few times we have spoken since our divorce he affects a sunny, overly friendly tone that is reserved for old friends one hasn’t seen for a while. I almost expect him to say “My dear, we must do lunch!” at some point.
Perhaps he’s better off having found that box, but that’s not my style. No matter where my life has gone since my divorce and no matter where it goes from this point onward, for me there will never be a box large enough to hold those 25 years.
It’s been fifteen years since my divorce and not a day goes by that I don’t think about my marriage in some capacity. I have moved along in my life (“Get over it” said all my friends, especially those who have never been divorced) and I have in many ways. But I never put my marriage into a box and put the box away. My ex-husband and I met when we were still teenagers and had 4 children during our 25 year span as husband and wife. There were things that were not so good but there were certainly many things that were very good. Those memories are worth preserving. I will never banish those years to a place where I cannot peruse them. Yes, sometimes it makes me feel sad, but it’s still worth thinking about the time in my life when my children were young and so was I.
I guess my ex found that box where you put the things you don’t want to remember. He’s remarried (he did that immediately) and has totally reestablished a new life with his second wife. As for me, well for him I don’t exist. He doesn’t have a single picture of me (I’ve been told this by many people) and the few times we have spoken since our divorce he affects a sunny, overly friendly tone that is reserved for old friends one hasn’t seen for a while. I almost expect him to say “My dear, we must do lunch!” at some point.
Perhaps he’s better off having found that box, but that’s not my style. No matter where my life has gone since my divorce and no matter where it goes from this point onward, for me there will never be a box large enough to hold those 25 years.
Pardon My Age
It’s happening – it is inescapable – I’m aging!
Well, what did I expect? For many years I felt invulnerable to the effects of aging. I still looked good in my 40s; in fact I actually looked better than I did in my 20s and 30s when my extreme thinness detracted from my appearance. I know, I know – you can never be too thin or too rich. I still subscribe to the rich part, but I was living proof that being too thin is actually not attractive. I figure my best years appearance-wise were my 40s and even my early 50s. I had finally gained enough weight to look non-skeletal. My face was still unwrinkled and attractive. “This is pretty great”, I thought. “For some odd reason, I’m not aging”.
My children were young – I was still part of the “young parents” world, or at least I thought I was. I still had kids in school, albeit college. When I went shopping or to a restaurant or theater, there were a substantial number of people around who were older than me. “I’m still part of the mainstream” I told myself. “I’m not really old.”
But something happened once I entered my 60s. My children are all well into adulthood now and yes, I’m a Grandparent. I love being a Grandmother and only wish my Grandchild & future Grandchildren could live closer to me. That’s not the problem. I have gone from being the “right weight” to being overweight. I’m not thrilled about that. I’ve done the Jenny Craig routine, lost and gained back again. My once youthful, attractive face is becoming quite wrinkled around the eyes. My lids droop now – no sense putting on any eye makeup anymore. I used to rely on that to enhance my appearance. I’m developing jowls and it’s possible that in a few more years I’m going to be a dead ringer for a Bassett Hound. My hands have age spot, lots of age spots. I never thought I’d get those. I have neither the courage nor the money to have plastic surgery, and really, what’s the use when you have to turn around in 5 years and have it again. I’ve seen the women who have had Botox injections. With their tight faces and elongated eyes many of them look like my cat Murphy.
So, I don’t look so hot anymore. But, over and above that, now when I’m in a restaurant, at a movie or at a store, I am more often than not the oldest person within my field of vision. I know those older people are out there, but they must be hiding. I’m older than my boss at work, older than my physician, for crying out loud, I’m older than the President! I’m actually excited when I see someone older than I am, even if they’re using a walker or a wheelchair.
Of course, nothing can compare with the horror of a visit to the neighborhood health club. At the gym I am one of the oldest, if not the oldest person around. The sight of all those half naked, taut bodies flaying around with their IPod and Blue Tooth is enough to make me want to install a private gym in my home. It doesn’t bother me on a practical level – I realize that aging is a consequence of living. I think about all the years I enjoyed on Planet Earth before these post Vietnam War children were even born. And yes; these young people are growing older too. My 40 year old son is not as boyish as he used to be and his dark hair is turning grey. It’s just the shock of realizing that I am well on my way to becoming, well, elderly. My proud, rebellious generation has entered its 60s and I, for one, am not totally ready to deal with that on an emotional level.
That being said, I have reached a decision. Since continued aging is a given (unless, of course, the alternative occurs), I will seek solace in the few places I can still feel young – Senior Citizen Homes, adult communities and cafes at local book shops. It’s not as crazy as it sounds. Where else can I still feel desirable and youthful? Just last week I was at a local coffee shop and an older gentleman (in his mid to late 70s) was eyeing me with admiration! If you want to look thin, hang around with overweight people. If you want to feel young, hang around with those more elderly than you (if you can find any). I’ll continue this later; it’s time for me to put on my Rockports and hit the social hot spot at the local Barnes & Noble!
Well, what did I expect? For many years I felt invulnerable to the effects of aging. I still looked good in my 40s; in fact I actually looked better than I did in my 20s and 30s when my extreme thinness detracted from my appearance. I know, I know – you can never be too thin or too rich. I still subscribe to the rich part, but I was living proof that being too thin is actually not attractive. I figure my best years appearance-wise were my 40s and even my early 50s. I had finally gained enough weight to look non-skeletal. My face was still unwrinkled and attractive. “This is pretty great”, I thought. “For some odd reason, I’m not aging”.
My children were young – I was still part of the “young parents” world, or at least I thought I was. I still had kids in school, albeit college. When I went shopping or to a restaurant or theater, there were a substantial number of people around who were older than me. “I’m still part of the mainstream” I told myself. “I’m not really old.”
But something happened once I entered my 60s. My children are all well into adulthood now and yes, I’m a Grandparent. I love being a Grandmother and only wish my Grandchild & future Grandchildren could live closer to me. That’s not the problem. I have gone from being the “right weight” to being overweight. I’m not thrilled about that. I’ve done the Jenny Craig routine, lost and gained back again. My once youthful, attractive face is becoming quite wrinkled around the eyes. My lids droop now – no sense putting on any eye makeup anymore. I used to rely on that to enhance my appearance. I’m developing jowls and it’s possible that in a few more years I’m going to be a dead ringer for a Bassett Hound. My hands have age spot, lots of age spots. I never thought I’d get those. I have neither the courage nor the money to have plastic surgery, and really, what’s the use when you have to turn around in 5 years and have it again. I’ve seen the women who have had Botox injections. With their tight faces and elongated eyes many of them look like my cat Murphy.
So, I don’t look so hot anymore. But, over and above that, now when I’m in a restaurant, at a movie or at a store, I am more often than not the oldest person within my field of vision. I know those older people are out there, but they must be hiding. I’m older than my boss at work, older than my physician, for crying out loud, I’m older than the President! I’m actually excited when I see someone older than I am, even if they’re using a walker or a wheelchair.
Of course, nothing can compare with the horror of a visit to the neighborhood health club. At the gym I am one of the oldest, if not the oldest person around. The sight of all those half naked, taut bodies flaying around with their IPod and Blue Tooth is enough to make me want to install a private gym in my home. It doesn’t bother me on a practical level – I realize that aging is a consequence of living. I think about all the years I enjoyed on Planet Earth before these post Vietnam War children were even born. And yes; these young people are growing older too. My 40 year old son is not as boyish as he used to be and his dark hair is turning grey. It’s just the shock of realizing that I am well on my way to becoming, well, elderly. My proud, rebellious generation has entered its 60s and I, for one, am not totally ready to deal with that on an emotional level.
That being said, I have reached a decision. Since continued aging is a given (unless, of course, the alternative occurs), I will seek solace in the few places I can still feel young – Senior Citizen Homes, adult communities and cafes at local book shops. It’s not as crazy as it sounds. Where else can I still feel desirable and youthful? Just last week I was at a local coffee shop and an older gentleman (in his mid to late 70s) was eyeing me with admiration! If you want to look thin, hang around with overweight people. If you want to feel young, hang around with those more elderly than you (if you can find any). I’ll continue this later; it’s time for me to put on my Rockports and hit the social hot spot at the local Barnes & Noble!
Yes Virginia, there is a...Job!
I don’t want to be one of those people who complains all the time but never acknowledges it when good things happen. I have been very remiss in reporting an unbelievable turn of events. I was unhappy with the job I took after losing my long-term position at a residential home builder that went out of business. I stuck with this new job for 5 months and it became apparent that it was not a good match for me. My boss was as unhappy with me as I was with the job. Of course, no one wants to be looking for work during such a disastrous economic crisis. However, eventually I had no choice but to apply for a new position at a different company. I was not looking forward to the process, as I had just gone through it less than a year ago.
STOP THE PRESSES – WE’VE GOT A WINNER HERE!
After only 1 week I received a call from an educational company and went in for an interview. I got the job within the same week! Things like that don’t happen at a time like this and certainly they don’t happen to me. The last time I looked for a job it took 7 months and I know several people who have been looking for over a year. The Employment God smiled down on me and I am happily situated at a job I really enjoy. It’s not as close to home as I’d like it to be, but there was a move in my future anyway. All I have to do now is to wait till the housing market improves. Hmmm. That should be around 2012 or so.
The commute aside, I am very grateful to have found this great job. You can catch me jammed up on Rt. 53 every morning and evening Monday through Friday or creeping down Palatine Road when 53 has sent me into fits of impatience. I’ll be smiling through my grit teeth.
STOP THE PRESSES – WE’VE GOT A WINNER HERE!
After only 1 week I received a call from an educational company and went in for an interview. I got the job within the same week! Things like that don’t happen at a time like this and certainly they don’t happen to me. The last time I looked for a job it took 7 months and I know several people who have been looking for over a year. The Employment God smiled down on me and I am happily situated at a job I really enjoy. It’s not as close to home as I’d like it to be, but there was a move in my future anyway. All I have to do now is to wait till the housing market improves. Hmmm. That should be around 2012 or so.
The commute aside, I am very grateful to have found this great job. You can catch me jammed up on Rt. 53 every morning and evening Monday through Friday or creeping down Palatine Road when 53 has sent me into fits of impatience. I’ll be smiling through my grit teeth.
Brother Can You Spare a Job?
Pardon my age! I am firmly ensconced in middle age now. It's not my fault; it's just a natural evolution of living through the years. I've taken a whole generation with me; I have not aged in a void by myself. I also have not been in a coma - I lived those years. Excuse me for not being young and cute anymore, but I'm still very much myself with a somewhat wrinkly exterior. I'm still energetic (thanks to good health) and I'm also reasonably smart and capable.
This being said let me get to the crux of the matter - I need a job. At an age when some people (although fewer than ever, I believe) are ready to retire, I need to continue working full time. Blame me for poor planning, overspending, whatever, the point is I cannot retire. I'm not old enough for Social Security and who in the heck can live on that without supplemental income? After five years of a wonderful job at a residential home builder I'm back in the job market at a time of almost total economic shutdown. Just my luck - broke, wrinkled and searching for employment during the worst economic recession since the 1930s.
The last time I went through this process I noticed that I was always the oldest person waiting for an interview in the outer office. No problem - maybe they'll be impressed by my resume and sparkling personality. Out comes the HR specialist. She walks toward me and smiles as she says my name. She is literally younger than any of my four children. She is the youngest, cutest person I have laid eyes on since watching the Grammy awards.
After a brief interview where I silently marvel at her shiny hair and bright eyes, the manager I would be reporting to enters the room. It's not good - he's 40 at the most. Wonderful; he's the same age as my son. When did executives get to be so young? Where are the grey haired gentlemen my mother worked for when she was in her 40s, 50s and even 60s? I have sweaters older than this man! He looks over my resume, asks a few questions and then smiles at me and has the HR specialist lead me back to the waiting room to retrieve my coat. I wait a week and hear nothing. I send an email and do not get a reply. I call and leave a message and do not receive a return call. Can it be that he would not feel comfortable working with someone as old as or older than his mother? Well - he could have at least called!
My search continues. I will studiously avoid any new, developing companies (only preschoolers need apply) or any applications that require my GPA. Give me a break! My GPA from college dates back to a time when records were chiseled into stone tablets.
Time to contact AARP for a list of companies that hire the elderly. I'll keep you posted.
This being said let me get to the crux of the matter - I need a job. At an age when some people (although fewer than ever, I believe) are ready to retire, I need to continue working full time. Blame me for poor planning, overspending, whatever, the point is I cannot retire. I'm not old enough for Social Security and who in the heck can live on that without supplemental income? After five years of a wonderful job at a residential home builder I'm back in the job market at a time of almost total economic shutdown. Just my luck - broke, wrinkled and searching for employment during the worst economic recession since the 1930s.
The last time I went through this process I noticed that I was always the oldest person waiting for an interview in the outer office. No problem - maybe they'll be impressed by my resume and sparkling personality. Out comes the HR specialist. She walks toward me and smiles as she says my name. She is literally younger than any of my four children. She is the youngest, cutest person I have laid eyes on since watching the Grammy awards.
After a brief interview where I silently marvel at her shiny hair and bright eyes, the manager I would be reporting to enters the room. It's not good - he's 40 at the most. Wonderful; he's the same age as my son. When did executives get to be so young? Where are the grey haired gentlemen my mother worked for when she was in her 40s, 50s and even 60s? I have sweaters older than this man! He looks over my resume, asks a few questions and then smiles at me and has the HR specialist lead me back to the waiting room to retrieve my coat. I wait a week and hear nothing. I send an email and do not get a reply. I call and leave a message and do not receive a return call. Can it be that he would not feel comfortable working with someone as old as or older than his mother? Well - he could have at least called!
My search continues. I will studiously avoid any new, developing companies (only preschoolers need apply) or any applications that require my GPA. Give me a break! My GPA from college dates back to a time when records were chiseled into stone tablets.
Time to contact AARP for a list of companies that hire the elderly. I'll keep you posted.
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