Dos (As in the number two)

It dawned on me yesterday, that not only am I aging, my language is aging. also. In other words, I am as old as dirt and so is the way I talk.

Take for example, my aforementioned volunteer work. Yesterday, I caught myself telling a couple of teenagers that the museum's main galleries are laid out in a counterclockwise pattern. Well, how stupid of me. Those kids had no idea what the word counterclockwise meant.....let alone clockwise. Kids, these days, are not taught how to tell time, on a clock with a face!! Digital is what they know, and nothing goes "wise" on a digital clock.

I'm also going to stop pointing out the picture of famous Missouri son, Harry Truman, to museum visitors. Most folks, under the age of 70, don't know who he was and why he is famous. And, furthermore, even young Kansans don't know that Eisenhower (another soldier from WWI and II) came from their state.

OMGolly, what about the Roman Numerals that I just wrote. Sure, everyone can tell how the Roman Numerals, one, two and three are written. But, what about beyond that? Can you translate MCMXVII? Actually, I had to think a while, about that one.

There are numerous documents in the museum, that are handwritten. Thank goodness they are usually accompanied by printed translations, because there is a time, in the very near future, that the ability to read cursive will become non-existent. 

Please, don't think that I am against change, in our language. I have difficulty reading "Old English", with all its V's and U's. And, furthermore, I've never even met anyone who can decipher Hieroglyphs?

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Great and All Knowing God: Your world is ever changing. Show us how to adapt. Make us aware that it is not all about us.  Show us how to impart our age-related knowledge without becoming preachy and demanding. Grant us wisdom. 

BTW...if you could read this post...........you are old, too!!!!!

Try It You'll Like It

I've always been a volunteer.  Before I graduated from high school, I volunteered to lead a Girl Scout Troop. Now granted, this was before background checks, but I must have been slightly qualified. After all, I could start a fire, cook a mean campfire stew, use a pocket knife and hike! Oh, and I was a girl!

I've volunteered lots of places. I even worked, for a short time, as a Professional Volunteer Director. Once, I volunteered to pass out flyers, at my polling place. I only did it once, because another volunteer threatened to kill me! Seems like someone had destroyed some of her yard signs. Seriously, I wasn't guilty. It wasn't me. With that experience, I was one and done with politics!

My latest volunteer position is at the nationally recognized Kansas City's World War I Museum and Memorial. I regularly work an afternoon shift, two days a week. By volunteering there, I am able to combine both my love of people and history. Most of the volunteers, at the facility, are either retired teachers or former military. They are a great bunch of folks!

The Great War has always been a part of my life. Two of my great uncles, Walter and Harry, were combat veterans of the war, having served in the trenches, in France. My grandpa, Tom, was drafted, trained, but never made it across the Atlantic. The Wintle Boys were all born and lived in the same small Kansas town. It boggles my mind, thinking of them traveling by train across the county, seeing New York City, and boarding a ship in Hoboken. Then, sailing the Atlantic Ocean. Talk about 1917 Culture Shock!

The WWI Museum has a temporary exhibit, highlighting items that entertained the troops. When I volunteer in that room, I sing WWI era songs, like "Mademoiselle From Armentieres" and "How Ya Gonna Keep 'em Down on the Farm", to the Museum Visitors. When I sing, I think about Harry, Tom and Walter. Homegrown Doughboys serving "Over There".

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All Powerful Lord: We pray to you in the hard times.We are thankful in the good times. But, we should be thinking of You, and talking to You all the time. You have asked us to "Pray without ceasing." Wars are senseless. Grant us Peace.

 

Don't Ask

 I have a scheduled visit my regular doctor next week. I'm calling her doctor, because she has a Medical Degree, framed, hanging on the wall of the examining room. I go to see her, or someone like her, once a year, because I am old and I am on Medicare. I am not expecting her to find anything wrong with me, although I will do the required pre-blood and urine tests, one week before the appointment. Also, because there is a large, neatly lettered sign on the wall that reads "If you have a specific issue to discuss with the doctor, please make another appointment", I won't be discussing any of my ailments.

Any day now, I am expecting to receive the 5 or 6 pages of "fillable on line" pre-apppointment paperwork, from her office. Then, and only then, will I be seen by someone. Last time, I saw the nurse practitioner, instead of the doctor, and other than taking my blood pressure and temperature, neither she nor the doctor touched me.

On those papers, I will be asked to reveal, yet again, many intimate details about my aging life. You see, I have been required to fill out similar forms, every year, for many, many years. And, no, I don't know why they don't keep them on file, for future use! 

One of the questions, I will no doubt be required to answer, will be "What pronouns do you wish us to use?" Really? 

Now, if these professionals actually read the paperwork, that I email back to them, they will know that I am 76 years old, and that I checked female box. Until recently I was married, to a man. I am now a widow. That happens to a lot of women, who live long enough. I have birthed 4 children (whose 13 kids call me GrandMA), and had one miscarriage. I have yearly mammograms (aren't those fun???), bear the scars of 6 or 7 (it was a while ago, so I have forgotten, PTL, the exact number) breast cancer related operations, and I've survived chemo and radiation, for the same issue. Oh, and let's not forget the pelvic exams! And, yes I have had numerous jobs, some of them pretty demeaning, where I have been paid a whole lot less than my male counterparts. 

Actually, I believe that I am going to write down that I prefer Queen, Her Highness, or Madam, as my preferred pronouns. Yes, I know that those are actually nouns, but if the truth be known, I don't think the medical professionals actually know the difference. 

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Dear God. I am not confused. I know WHOSE I am. Remind me what really is important on this journey.

Bigger Than a Breadbox

SPOILER ALERT!!!! This blog is in two semi connected parts.

#1. Last Wednesday, whilst driving through my "hilly" neighborhood, I came to a stop at the bottom of my street. Across the intersection was a box truck, going slowly up the next hill. The back of the truck was open and, oh my, about a half dozen ginormous, wheeled recycling carts were being dumped out, mistakenly, onto the street. Some of the carts kept rolling and eventually made it across the intersection, coming to a stop in front of me. Others just fell over and lay dead on their yellow plastic sides. The driver eventually stopped, got out of the truck and rounded up the escaped carts,

I was highly amused. It was terribly funny.

#2. Saturday evening, I pulled into my driveway and found one of those same, or maybe their cousin cart, in a similar prone position, in front of my garage. I smiled, shut off my car, got out and attempted to right the thing and pull or push it out of my way. I wanted to drive the car into the garage for the night. OMG the thing was huge, heavy, bulky and definitely not rolling anywhere by itself. I managed to get it upright and rolled safely in front of the empty side of my garage. This monstrosity is not going to be a helpful addition to my single-life, weekly trash routine. 

My smile is fading. I am not amused, at all.

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Lord. Life is crazy hard, sometimes. There are days when it is difficult to be positive. A trash bin larger than me, is going to be hard to deal with. I know I will manage it eventually, because You will be with me, no matter what my struggles. But, I'm asking, why is life sometimes harder than it needs to be? Give me strength and grant me the wisdom to make good choices.