BLURB
Like other seniors, I worry about overstaying my welcome. But we are blessed. Our culture honors people of age
I arrived here on a Sunday and traffic was light, even at the airport. We had blue skies with patchy clouds, much like I loved seeing in Hawaii. Ah, but my Hawaii is fairer by far.
I remember the taste of Hawaii air on my first visit there. Delicious. Salty sea breeze mixed with the sweet aroma of pineapple and the scent of suntan lotion.
Did you know that back in the day, visitors to the islands were welcomed with a plumeria lei, chilled pineapple juice in a Dixie cup and the sound of a slack key guitar playing real Hawaiian music? Not anymore.
But for 17 years, every time I landed in Honolulu I told myself, “Lucky you live in Hawaii.” But that was a lifetime ago. Let’s turn the page.
Like sardines
On the plane I was squeezed between two big guys. They were both nice, and we laughed every time we took turns using the armrest. When the attendant came to toss mini-pretzels our way and asked about drinks, the one to my left started to bring out the tray that was under his arm and jammed against my ribs.
What a chore! If I were younger I would have thought he was getting fresh. Talk about a tight squeeze! There ought to be a law.
Listen up, Delta! Fares are not cheap, even in coach. To pack people like sardines stinks! It was difficult to breathe. Everyone was coughing or sneezing. I imagined swarms of germs in attack mode around me. Stressful!
The only plus: the flight was smooth.
Also, there was a little girl behind us. Her voice was all I could hear above the drone of the engines. For the entire 90-minute flight she was the source of nonstop questions and observations. She knew a triangle from an octagon, oval from round, nimbus from cumulus.
My “close” friends and I were taking bets that she was with her grandparents. If it had been a mom or dad, the child would have been told to be quiet and take a nap.
When the captain announced we were landing she was upset. “Oh no! So soon! I was just starting to know my clouds!” She came by to say hello on her way out. Yes, she was with her grandparents, and when I asked them how old she was, she answered: ” I am all of 4.” Going on 24, perhaps?
It was typical Florida at the baggage area. The suitcases took a little while before appearing on the carousel and people were getting antsy. It had been a full flight.
One very irritated senior lady with coiffed and teased blue hair and wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and massive costume jewelry was thumping the floor with her cane as she brusquely ordered the airport people to hurry.
This, they say, is the usual attitude of the elderly “transplants” who, not quite by choice, have been moved (probably by their children) from big East Coast cities to a high-end suburb in sunny and balmy Florida. They are very impatient and a tad rude.
Hugs and kisses
Outside the terminal my daughter was parked at the curb. Hugs and kisses. There is no better feeling in the world. She was alone. Her husband was home mowing the lawn while my two granddaughters did schoolwork. The eldest is 17, a high-school senior. The “not-so-little-anymore” 14-year-old is a freshman.
Another grand welcome waited for me at home. When did these girls get so tall and beautiful?
I watched my daughter get dinner ready. She wears colorful surgical gloves when she handles raw ingredients. On the menu was freshly caught red snapper grilled in butter and a huge salad. She should be on the Food Channel.
My first lunch out was at 2 Chefs’ Souperie, a must-do whenever I’m in town. Their soups are to die for. On our way home we drove by beautiful high-rise retirement homes. Clients pay close to $10,000 a month to live there, and there is a waiting list. I remembered the lady with the blue hair.
My heart aches just thinking how sad it must be to be “put out to pasture,” so to speak. I am sure many would love to live the lifestyle of the rich and famous, in a posh five-star condo on impeccably manicured golf property with a swanky clubhouse, and a cleaning lady who comes in every week.
This is where they spend their last years, far from the busyness of the big city, in a peaceful enclave away from the bustle of traffic, where they can pose no threat of interrupting the agenda of their career-obsessed children or having to deal with noisy grandchildren or an intrusive family.
Forgive me, but I don’t think I would be happy there. I sincerely doubt that the perks could make up for feeling alone and lonely. Hang the multi-star rating!
Of course, like other seniors, I worry about overstaying my welcome, of becoming burdensome and senile, of saying too much, doing too little. But we are blessed. Our culture honors people of age. Thank you God.
This is my prayer: Lord, plant me close to the ones I love. Let me stand beside them but not in their way. Only keep me close enough to see that their paths are clear and their steps are firm. Comfort me with their love. Surround me with their dreams. And may the joy of their days fill my own with gratitude and peace. Amen.
