Aging

Someone stole my skin.

When I look down at my hands I do not recognize them. Where is that lovely skin I used to have? When did my hands get to look so very old? When did they become so wrinkled?

In my mind's eye my hands look youthful...as if no time had passed. In fact, even in reality I might see some wrinkles, but nothing like the ones that showed up in this photo on the day of my daughter's wedding.

Aging--it creeps up so stealth like--part by part--the body changes, actually morphs into a different looking person.

Honestly, the first time I knew that my body was aging was during a trip to the eye doctor when I was in my late thirties. Believing myself to be very young I was shocked when the doctor told me that "after all, you are almost forty." His declaration came after my near vision test was completed. I needed glasses, not only for my near-sightedness, but for reading as well. I remember the moment, and some little part of me said, "this must be the beginning of the end."

Since that time, I have had so many medical conditions hit me that I finally know for a fact that my body is aging--and aging quickly. (Look for upcoming stories on the details of some of these medical misadventures that have resulted in a myriad of body parts--all of which are aging--absolutely disintegrate before my eyes.)

For now just realize that if you are younger than 61, you are on the continuum which will bring you some day to my current age, or God willing, even older. Once you arrive, you will look out of the same eyes that you have always looked out of, and you will have to admit that although you don't see things any differently, your body does indeed look different than it used to. The mirror is always your reality check.

Do we ever see ourselves as old as our actual age? My eighty-six year old mother has told me for years that no matter what your age, you never stop thinking of yourself as the person you have always been...in spite of what the mirror may tell you. I have reached an age where I totally understand what she has often described to me.

I know I am getting older when I look at my friends. They are all aging gracefully, but nonetheless, I notice wrinkles and a bit of drooping and sagging here and there. I am reminded that they are beginning to look a bit older.... ....but on the other hand they are still the same people I met in my youth and nothing except the outside shell has changed.

It is true, my skin has failed me. But the truth of who I am is just as glorious as ever.

Motherhood

Thirty-three years ago today, love filled my heart like nothing I ever could have imagined--my first child was born.

Having yearned for a child for years, enduring infertility along the way, I thought this day would never come. In fact Mr. Jorie and I had started the process of adopting a little girl in my classroom, since the natural way of getting pregnant had not seemed to work.

Eventually however, having prayers answered, baby showers attended, having read every book on pregnancy, childbirth, and bringing up baby completed, I was ready for the "fairy tale" life of motherhood to begin. I was pregnant.

Labor and delivery went fine, and there in my arms was a precious, healthy baby boy.

On the third day we took him home from the hospital and then we just set him down in his crib, in his fancy newly decorated nursery, and looked and looked at our child. Other than gazing at him, we were complete novices in spite of the information I had read.

Soon the child began to cry. The first inkling of the real world had begun! His needs had to be met. As the days continued we managed to learn the art of childcare. Of course changing diapers and clothing, and nursing an infant actually were not too difficult.

That is until the time that many nights of little sleep for the new mommy created stress. I learned that baby's needs came first and my needs only were met once his were--and sometimes not met at all.

Prior to my baby entering the world, I had this fantastic idea that once I had a child, having yearned and struggled for him to be here, every thing in life would be absolutely lovely. I really believed that.

I would try to tell myself that, getting up several times a night and nursing the child in the special rocking chair my father-in-law had given us, was pure joy.

Having him wake up twenty minutes after nursing and then starting the process all over again throughout the night, and then night after night, sleep deprivation for me began.

In that state I reached the point where I had to acknowledge that being awakened several times a night was not joyful. In fact, I dare say that some resentment set in.

I couldn't believe how I was feeling.

My child was five months old when I finally came to terms with my role as a mother. In a moment of crystal clear thinking (I can remember it until this day) I accepted that motherhood was mostly about putting the needs of my child over my own.

Yes, it seemed so simple once I made the realization. I had given up my autonomy once I had given birth. I learned that three more times as each child added to the family needed me in ways that only I could fulfill.

It was actually liberating however, to accept that childrearing was no fairy tale, and realizing that a much bigger and better association with my children was far superior to my own wants and needs.

Having closed the chapter on the fairy tale myth, I grew in so many ways as my little guy had patiently waited for the "real" mommy to get her act together.

Thirty-three years is a long time to be a mom. I have truly loved the job in spite of the hard times and because of the marvelous good times, and all the "every days" in between where life really happens.

Yes, I became a mom on this date many years ago.

Yes, I long ago learned that my children were everything to me.

Yes, now that they are adults, I am so happy to see them succeed in the real world because I willingly gave them my all.

Wisdom

With age comes wisdom.

I have hope that I will one day see the Great Pyramids of Geiza, visit the Eiffel Tower and live to see my great grandchildren. I have hope that my new garden perennials will come up each and every year. I have hope for many things--things that I can envision may very well come true....

....but I know for certain that I will never:



Dust my furniture every week.

Floss my teeth each day.

Clean my refrigerator on any regular basis.

Be satisfied with the shape of my body.

Exercise regularly.

Apply makeup daily.



Not too long ago, I came to the conclusion that some things will never change for me. I suppose that once I reached a certain age, wisdom came softly into my heart.

Reality spoke loudly then that I will never do some things. Things I had always thought would be attainable, are not ever going to happen.

Now don't let me hear you say that I could change any of the above, because time tells me that I will not. And that I believe is acceptance in a nutshell.

Feelings of guilt or regrets can just fly away leaving only acceptance in their wake.

With wisdom comes acceptance.

With acceptance comes contentment.

With contentment comes happiness.

It is so good to let go.....

Books

Becky Thatcher lost in a cave, Huckleberry Finn at his own funeral, Beth, Meg, Amy, and Jo singing at the piano. Lewis and Clark standing at the Oregon coast--all pictures in my minds eye. I love to read!

That's me at age three looking at a storybook, and Elli looking at her books at age four. Perhaps my book is about Raggedy Ann. Maybe it is Goodnight Moon, Pat the Bunny or The Little Engine that Could. In fact those are all books that Elli likes too, and books that children will love for years to come.

To be able to take oneself anywhere simply by opening the pages of a book is a gift indeed.

I found my very first reading book today tucked away in a closet. It is pictured above. Upon opening it, I remember writing and coloring in that book as I learned the first steps to reading. As I look back now I can picture where my desk was in my first grade classroom. As the year went on I can also remember learning rhyming words--"look," now change the l to b, "book," now change the b to c, "cook,"--well you get the idea. I still can recall how magical words seemed.

Throughout my childhood I consumed my books, reading them over and over. A book of Grim's fairy tales was reread many times, each time filling my mind with adventure, mystery, victory, magic, and fascinating people and places.

"Little Women" truly captured my thoughts, and I knew each of the sisters by heart. I even named my first daughter Amy.

I read classics including "Black Beauty," "Tom Sawyer," "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea," "Treasure Island," and "The Swiss Family Robinson." I loved the Bobbsey Twins adventures as well as the Trixie Beldon mystery series.

When I say that I "loved" books, I mean I really loved them! Even as a child I appreciated how a book could spark the imagination and take me on a trip as the real world disappeared.

A trip to the library in Fremont, Nebraska, the town where I spent my childhood, remains a vivid memory even now. I remember feeling excited as I climbed the stairs, and once inside, I turned to the right and felt at home exploring the shelves of the children's department. Upon leaving, my imagination was peaked as I walked home thinking of the books I had chosen.

Of course in school I also read a lot and truly enjoyed most of the books that were selected by teachers for me to read. "1984," "Brave New World," and "Animal Farm," required me to think outside of the box and open my mid-western mind to new and interesting theories.

Once I graduated from college I began teaching first grade. One of my favorite parts of the day was storytime when all of "my" children would gather around and actually sit still and give me their complete (well almost) attention as the stories would capture our minds. Of course the true joy of teaching such young children was teaching them to read, knowing that a good foundation in my class would impact their love of reading and their ability to succeed forever.

Joy of all joys--having my first child--engaged me in reading on a new level. I was a stay-at-home mom and had all day to spend with my son, and almost every waking moment was spent "enriching" my little boy. I taught him about books. Prior to his first birthday he and I had two special books that we read over and over. They were hard board books meant just for little hands; as shapes and colors and counting filled the pages. By the age of four he could read books such as: "Are you my Mother." He read with inflection and without hesitation.

Is it any wonder that he grew to be a bright child, succeeding in school, and going into a profession that was saturated with reading and writing-journalism.

I enjoyed reading storybooks to all of the children in my life. My three little girls, as the came along (and now my granddaughter,) as well as all of the children in my daycare over the years loved listening to stories. They enjoyed the special time of being together, being calm, quiet, and attentive as their imaginations flourished.

Unfortunately in our electronic society today I fear that children are not being taught to love books. There are so many diversions. Bright and noisy toys that need batteries to work; electronic games; exciting, over-stimulating t.v. programs and movies; and parents who have too little time for reading to a child due to their busy schedules--reduce the time a child's imagination can grow and a love of reading be formed.

I do not care for many of the children's books of today as there must be a gimmick in the book to grab the child's attention. There are so many books that talk and sing. There are books with flaps that lift and other things for the child to do. There are even books that read themselves for you.

It seems to me that looking at, and eventually reading a book to a child is a thing of the past.

If you want to interest a young child in a book, read "Make Way for Ducklings" and the child learns of a real place in Boston and a great story about the duck family. Gorgeous illustrations open the child's mind to art, as well as to the joy of reading.

Well now, I can see that it is time to relax a bit about the future generation. If it takes a book that sings and dances and spins around to help a child love reading--well--I guess then that that is a good thing.

Now that I have a lot of time to read, I truly enjoy getting lost in a book. Currently I am reading a memoir, "The Invisible Wall" by Harry Bernstein, a 96 year old first time author. The book describes his childhood in England. He lived on a poor street where folks on one side were Jewish and on the other side Christian. He has since written a sequel. Harry has inspired me both by his writing and by his ambition so late in life. The other book that is on my coffee table at the moment is called "Escape." It is a true story written by Carolyn Jessop. She describes her escape from living in a polygamist cult.

I have a shelf full of books just waiting for me to open their first page and get caught up in the adventure that lies between the covers.

I attend a neighborhood book club and delight in hearing about all the books my friends have read. Each report makes me want to read another story and another.

I love the feel of books. I love the smell of books--walking into a Barnes and Noble gives me a high.

A special thank you goes out to Sally, Dick, and Jane for being my first best friends. Their antics with their friends and their pets, Spot and Puff, make me smile even now. They opened in me a love of reading that has lasted a lifetime.

See Dick and Jane.

Oh, Dick, see Spot run.

Run Spot, run.

Look, Jane.

See Sally run.

See Linda read books.

Linda is happy.

Dreams

"I have a dream!"

Celebrating Dr. King's birthday has never been a high priority for me. However, this year as I analyze things, I have finally figured out that his dream is important not only to all in the black community, but indeed to all Americans everywhere...myself included.

I was in grade school when he delivered his "I have a dream speech" and in college when he was assasinated. I remember feeling very sad at his death, grieving with his wife and children as the funeral events were presented on my television, but unlike the youth of today who dive right into politics, I had little response to Dr. King's vision after a short passage of time.


Perhaps this year the "race issue" has become more real to me....perhaps....because...as of tomorrow I will have a new biracial president and in April I will have a new biracial grandson. Now that makes an impact on my life like nothing has before, in regard to this subject.


Remembering in 1991 our visit to the birth home of Dr. King, and the memorial where he is buried, I must say that I was deeply moved as I usually am when visiting historical places. My children and I posed in front of the house as Mr. Jorie took our picture. At least I was wise enough to have my children see and feel, with some intensity, that this little neighborhood in Atlanta was worth remembering.


So I was moved by Dr. King, first at the time of his assasination, secondly on our trip to Atlanta, and now, in light of my recognition of Barack and Grnadchild#2, I will always be changed, broadened, wiser and even more intelligent than before.

As I stood in Grant Park on election night 08, I felt that I was indeed part of a history-making event unlike anything I had previously experienced. I, along with thousands--even Oprah--looked and listened and above all HOPED that indeed we were sharing the vision Dr. King had inspired in us and that Barack Obama was fulfilling.

Don't get me wrong....for me this is not only about race...for I have learned when I touch my Nigerian son-in-law's hand that his skin feels just like mine...but the events I have seen in my lifetime will forever change the course of history. Now people of all races will have better opportunities because the walls that held us back are now opened as Obama takes office. It is now more likely that a woman or a Hispanic or anyone at all will have more chances of rising to their potential than they would have at any other point of history.

I am glad that Dr. King had his dream, but more importantly, that he shared it with the world. When I hold my grandson for the first time I have no doubt that his baby skin and baby hair will be absolutely beautiful, and even more importantly, he will have a skys-the-limit future in front of him.

Thanks Martin...I'm glad to have finally met you.

Peachy

There is a Mr. Jorie.

He is always "Just Peachy"--what a way to live a life--that glass always, always half full like he sees it.

People know and love him. People in the local Kroger, clerks and shoppers alike, know Mr. Jorie because he is who he is. His brand of sunshine is good medicine for everyone who crosses his path.

If something not so good happens in the little or big travails of life, he can always see something that will be positive in the situation.

Yes, sometimes I say, "enough of this sunshine is enough." After all, he married someone who is a realist and believes that life shows us both happy and sad, good and bad, hot and cold--oh, you know how the list goes on.

Sometimes his glass is half full and mine is half empty. Oh my goodness, I believe then, that no matter what, together we must be a whole.

And so we journey on in life together.

Together our glass then is always full to overflowing...and who has received the overflowing fountain of our goodness and positive thinking but our four children (described below), and my Elli girl and the new baby boy soon to meet his family, and their families and so it goes--the flowing that is--from generation to generation.

Yes, there is a Mr. Jorie....in all of our lives

Children

The world belongs to my children.

My son is currently a journalist working in the middle east. My daughter-in-law is Hungarian. They were married in Budapest. They have lived in and traveled to many different countries, and thus take our family vicariously around the world with them.

My oldest daughter is Elli's mom. She teaches special needs children. Having spent four years teaching school on a Naval base in Japan, she has had the opportunity to live, work and travel abroad. Now she lives almost next door and we enjoy it that way.

My second daughter recently married a Nigerian man who has lived in London. They are awaiting the birth of their firstborn and studying for the ministry. They currently live just two hours away, however that may change as they plan to follow God's leading and be open to where He will take them in the future.

My youngest daughter, yet a teenager, is attending college and working on enhancing her photographic skills. She recently completed an internship at Disney World in Florida where she met and made friends with people from many different places. She is preparing for her next step in life wherever and whatever that may be.

I am pleased to say that the world is a smaller place than it was when I was growing up, and my children have taken every opportunity to explore it. They have been blessed in so many ways.

Baby years
Toddler years
School years

Teenage years

College years

While I was watching and guiding and loving, my children grew up to be amazing adults. The guidance and travels and experiences we gave them throughout childhood has allowed them to be who they want to be and go where they want to go.

...as I reflect, I realize that my life was so intertwined in their lives, that I nearly lost myself for many years. Now that they are not always under my watchful eye, I turn to God to keep them safe, to keep them strong and to guide their ways...wherever in this world they go.

...while I look to find myself again...

Snow

Here I sit watching another day ebb away. A day white with snow--fluffy snow that flies away as Elli smiles walking up the driveway from the school bus. It is bitter cold as she carries her hat in her hand and Grandma (that's me) quickly covers her soft hair.

I try to remember what life was like when I was four years old with soft silken hair. Fifty-seven years prevent me from having very many memories of my life then. I knew that I was living in a loving family. I had a big brother and a little brother--and a Mom and a Dad.

I knew I was loved and I knew I was safe. What more could I wish for my precious girl?

For Elli and Grandma this day has made new memories...soft and white and silken...and filled with love.