“Don’t get old.” I hear that. A lot. I sing at an assortment of retirement homes, assisted living dormitories, skilled nursing-almost-hospitals. A few of the residents tug at my sleeves and repeat these very words. More than you would think.
My own mother says it too. When she remembers. For the last few years she has been “87 years old.” Well that’s her story and she sticking to it. Here is a woman whose gray hair leaks around the sides of her teased-up auburn wig. She looks like a pixie-yoda and prefers conversations about sex. She insists she has no wrinkles and that mirrors lie. When I tell her she is actually 90 years old, shock registers on her face and she changes the subject.
The morning of my mother’s actual 90th birthday I make a special trip to the neighborhood party store and pick out a couple birthday balloons. One says Happy 90th on multi-colored Mylar. An hour later the balloons and I float into the local Japanese restaurant for this rare lunchtime outing. My mother’s caregiver and our friend make it a foursome in the cozy booth. Knotted tightly to a blue foil weight, the festive balloons drift to the ceiling. A beacon of longevity for all fellow sushi lovers to see.
We are in a family-run establishment that values its elder customers so I know they will be patient and kind to my sometimes irrational and bellicose mother. Actually just being there together is somewhat of a miracle in itself. Now that mom and I are talking. Again. We’ve been on the relationship ropes long before my training bra days. With two extra people at the table the conversation zigzags benignly from one light topic to another and this helps diffuse any potential for high dramatics.
Old age amplifies my mother’s “idiosyncrasies.” For example, she covets other people’s stuff. She has been known to “pilfer” things and hide them away. Maybe she thinks she is retrieving what is legitimately hers. Over the last few months our caregiver has gotten wise to my mother’s ways.
A cornucopia of sumptuous goodies sit on the table–roasted scallops, tempura, sushi and sashimi, little dabs of green salad-ity stuff. My mother digs in with joyful glee until the only two pieces of shrimp tempura are left. I know my mother. She is saving the best for last.
I get distracted for just a moment and when I look back at my mom’s plate, the shrimp are gone. “Wow she ate them fast,” I tell myself. That has to be the reason those two long blobs of fried flour and crustacean are no longer in sight.
That’s when the caregiver reaches over and pulls up my mother’s sleeve. We see a 90-year-old arm, two shrimp tempura and a set of chopsticks. Maybe mom missed her calling as a magician. I didn’t see her do it. The caregiver laughs because this form of larceny is old news now. My mother laughs too. Busted again.
Just then the lovely waitress brings a bowl of green tea ice creme with a birthday candle. Mom blows it out and we sing “Happy Birthday.” Others in the restaurant turn around to watch. There might as well be a spotlight on that damned balloon. 90 years…
That’s 90 years of pushing and shoving, palming things that don’t belong to her. 90 years of trying to love and of desperately wanting to be loved in return, but almost bereft of the capacity to do either.
Now that she is losing her memory, I am the only one left who is the “holder” of all the stuff that has gone down over the decades. It’s a tightrope I walk, wavering between compassion and a whole lot of pissed off. But I am confident of this: My mother is doing the best she can. She’s always done the best she could do. For better. For worse.
And somehow she has lived 90 years, whether my mother likes it or not. Is it the daily prunes? And olive oil? The blood vendettas? The marathon sessions with Oprah and Dr. Oz? Her wicked sense of humor? Who knows…
Happy Birthday Mom! I love you.
Cali
Cali, I enjoyed your comments about your mom. So much of life is really all about attitude. My wife’s aunt who lives in St. Cloud MN is 94 and just a couple of years ago sold her house and moved to an assisted living facility but she needs very little assistance. She went to the doctor recently and the doctor asked her if he could call her ride. She explained to him that she drove her car to the office and would drive home. She picks up her friends and they go out for dinner in the evening and she takes them home afterwards. All of these 75 year old men are constantly “hitting” on her not realizing she is 20 years older. A lot can be gleaned from her personna. She says that she has always had music in the house and several times a day “dances” around the house when the right music motivates her. Two years ago , our son was married in Minneapolis and his reception went froim 4 to about 10 in the evening. She danced almost every dance that evening, no exagerration. She is blessed with good health but has had several serious problems recently and her whole attitude is something to admire. She bounces back quickly. Again, her attitude is responcible. I think your activities, social life and attitude seems much like “Wally” as her nick name has always been, rather than Walberga, which is enough to depress anyone- how could her mother have done that! We sure learn a lot if we grow older. I have 12 years to get to 90 but I am quite sure I will see beyond that, and I think you will too.
Cali
Cali, I enjoyed your comments about your mom. So much of life is really all about attitude. My wife’s aunt who lives in St. Cloud MN is 94 and just a couple of years ago sold her house and moved to an assisted living facility but she needs very little assistance. She went to the doctor recently and the doctor asked her if he could call her ride. She explained to him that she drove her car to the office and would drive home. She picks up her friends and they go out for dinner in the evening and she takes them home afterwards. All of these 75 year old men are constantly “hitting” on her not realizing she is 20 years older. A lot can be gleaned from her personna. She says that she has always had nmusic in the house and several times a day “dances” around the house when the right music motivates her. Two years ago , our son was married in Minneapolis and his reception went froim 4 to about 10 in the evening. She danced almost every dance that evening, no exagerration. She is blessed with good health but has had several serious problems recently and her whole attitude is something to admire. She bounces back quickly. Again, her attitude is responcible. I think your activities, social life and attitude seems much like “Wally” as her nick name has always been, rather than Walberga, which is enough to depress anyone- how could her mother have done that! We sure learn a lot if we grow older. I have 12 years to get to 90 but I am quite sure I will see beyond that, and I think you will too. (Baritone Uke) , Frank
Cali
Thank you so very much for sending me your wonderful blog about your mom
turning 90. It was so well written, engaging, and resounding with universal truths that many aging children have experienced—especially the disappearing foods and other things that usually drop innocently into slightly open purses just in case another Great Depression should come along requiring reserves of food stuffs and other useful things. Chop sticks, you know could be used as weapons in case we fell under enemy attack, back scratchers as well, and a useful tool to point to children they feel have not treated mothers with all due respect :-)!
You cannot imagine the number of sugar packets I discovered cleaning out my mom’s apartment. My mom wore a wig, too! I thought it was silly and hot to wear on a summer day, but no she would not leave the apt. w/o one of her wigs. It was that generation’s way, I guess. Just like girdles, garter belts and hose! Ugh!
Anyway, it was just a wonderful missive. N.F.
anita jaskol
Dear Cali – It is evident that you clearly embody the best of your mom and sooooo much more. anita jaskol
Cali
Thank You Anita! We’re all just doing the best we can…
Paul Cole
You really care
Paul Cole
Wonderful story,you must be a very caring person,thank you for sharing!!
E Samiljan
Cali
As an old, frustrated writer, I appreciate and am jealous of your choice of words and phrases. This sensitive subject could have become another bitter recollection. You handled it with grace, style and an intimate story that is revealing.
Nicely done!
Ed Samiljan