If you’ve read my blog in the past few weeks, you know that one of my cousins passed away recently, and we attended the funeral. He was 73 years old. While 73 might have sounded old and far away when I was 25 years old, it now makes me squeamish and causes me to have an urge to look over my shoulder to see if the Grim Reaper is lurking.
For the most part, up until now, we have attended the funerals of our aunts and uncles. We are butting up against time, however, and this death will be followed by others of my generation in the years ahead. Gulp. It makes me want to eat my spinach and cut out my high cholesterol treats. Of course, I don’t want to do anything too rash.
One of the cousins who attended the funeral is somewhere in the neighborhood of 92 years old. I didn’t ask her age because I was brought up to be polite. I am fairly certain, however, that had I disregarded my mother’s good teaching and asked that daunting question, she would proudly have responded truthfully. While she is now our eldest cousin, she outthinks most of us handily. She is a proud (and vocal) conservative who writes a regular column in her little town’s newspaper. Woe betide anyone who disagrees with her point of view. She doesn’t mind if you’re a Democrat. She will just try to set you straight (and probably pray for you in church the next Sunday)……
Bill’s family tends to live very long lives. His mother was three months shy of 100 when she passed away a few years ago. His father suffered from that awful Alzheimer’s disease, but even so, he lived to be 84 or 85 years old.
My family, on the other hand, tends to die much earlier than that. According to one of my cousins, it depends on whether you take after Grandmother Micek or Grandfather Micek. Apparently the Grandfather Micek side is the winning side. The list of ailments we enjoy is quite lengthy: circulation problems, cancer, heart issues, stomach ailments (given my stomach problems — yikes to that one!).
I have decided I want to be my 92ish-year-old cousin when I grow up. She must favor the Grandfather Micek side, and I’m cheering for that team. Mostly, I want to be as tuned in to what’s happening in the world if and when I become a nonagenarian. It will take some work, because I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I know far less about what’s happening in our world than my nonagenarian cousin. I don’t beat myself up too much, because I’ll bet even she can’t tell me the name of the president’s press secretary.
The Silver Sneakers Newsletter that I regularly receive often gives me ways in which I can exercise my brain. After this recent time spent with my cousins, I am taking their suggestions very seriously. With near desperation, I started this puzzle day before yesterday…..
I have dusted off the Sudoku app on my iPad and plan on defaulting to that game as opposed to Solitaire (a game that requires little use of my brain because I cheat and look at the answers). Silver Sneakers even made suggestions on anaerobic exercises that strengthen your brain as well as your muscles. There’s a lot of complicated hopping that you have to remember. I’ll give it a try, though, if you’ll recall a recent blog post, I have trouble remembering my grandkids’ names.
While it is unlikely that I will live to be 100 like Bill’s mother, whatever years God gives me, I want to at least be able to remember my name. As for the other ailments, is it a problem that I experienced an esophageal spasm even as I wrote this blog post?
Then it was back in the car where we drove seven-and-a-half hours back to Denver so that we could arrive in time for Megan’s memorial gathering. Later that evening, we enjoyed the concert…..
…..and some drinks at a very hip and urban restaurant…..
And for the record, Bec and I did the zipline. Thank the good Lord there are no photos. As for Bill, who seems unaware that he has Parkinson’s disease, he kept up with the kids on all the activities without breaking a single bone.
We waited impatiently to learn which track our train would be on, and when the info popped up on the sign we, like everyone else, made a dash for the gate, with Carter in the lead. Five of us dragging suitcases and other bags were quite a spectacle, I imagine. When we got to the gate, an Amtrak employee noticed me and said: “Senior citizens have early boarding. All of you, come this way.” Sometimes it pays to be old. We enjoyed our train ride immensely, and the kids were very excited when we could see the NYC skyline. Before long we were in the Big Apple.
And from there it was a short walk down to Battery Park, where we could see the Statue of Liberty. We decided that, while we would love to visit the Statue and Ellis Island, that was for another trip. Mackenzie and Carter were satisfied to see The Lady from a distance.
We enjoyed seeing the flashy neon signs, but 30 minutes was all we needed. It had been another active, successful day. My phone app said 7 miles and 19! flights of stairs.
Mackenzie and Carter weren’t so sure about it, but after only a few minutes they got why it was so special. It’s only a mile, and the walk seemed easy to all of us, even though the walkway was crowded. The bridge itself is beautiful, of course, and so is the view of the skyline across the bridge. Before we knew it, we were on the other side, with lots of day left. Carter was hoping for an authentic New York slice, and that seemed like a good idea for our lunch. Google research pointed us to Scarro’s, so off we went. The subway dropped us off on the edge of Chinatown and we wound our way through the streets to find lunch. Scarro’s was everything it promised. We all loved our pizza in this tiny shop tucked in between Chinatown and Little Italy. And since we were so close to Little Italy, it seemed a no-brainer to walk there for what ended up being the best gelato ever. And, to my surprise, we were only an 8-minute walk from our apartment!…..
On our last evening we had dinner in the neighborhood, at Katz Deli, a New York institution. Speaking for myself, it’s the best pastrami I’ve ever tasted, and Josey particularly enjoyed her potato latkes and matzo ball soup. Good pick! After dinner Josey and Erik set off to find a bar listed as one of the top 25 in the country, and Mackenzie, Carter and I went to eat what Food and Wine magazine called the best cupcakes in the world.
I never actually lived in Washington, D.C., but I lived in a Virginia suburb for more than twenty-five years. And, as often as I could, especially in the summer, I would make my way into the city. I enjoyed the theaters, the museums, the Mall and monuments, and the neighborhoods. For some reason, I gravitated to the Dupont Circle area. So, for my trip this year I decided that instead of renting a room in a hotel, I would try out the concept of a VRBO in that neighborhood.
I had a few things I wanted to do while I was in the city, but I didn’t really have a schedule. So, the first morning I wandered around the area, identifying a near-by Safeway, a great little coffee shop, and several promising restaurants. I also verified that it was an easy walk to the Dupont Circle Metro Station. Yes, this is what I had wanted…to have the feel of being a resident, if only for a few days.
On my morning walk, I’d noticed a sign advertising an exhibition on “The Queens of Egypt” at the National Geographic Museum, so I spent several hours there another day. It was fantastic! There’s so much to choose from in this city of museums and historical sites.
And what tied it all together was my pleasure in staying on a quiet street, where I watched people going to and from work, walking their dogs, or carrying bags of groceries from the Safeway down the block. For just a few days I could start my day like a local, in a coffee shop observing neighbors sharing their news and opinions. One night I walked a mile to what is known as the U Street Corridor and had a chili dog at the famous Ben’s Chili Bowl. And, when I wanted, I did as city people do and rode the subway to pretty much anywhere in the city.
Kaiya asked me the other day why my kitchen clock ticked. I explained that it had a minute hand, which I used for cooking and baking purposes. That’s often what makes a clock tick. When my mother would proclaim the summer half over, I began to hear that imaginary clock tick, like life had a minute hand.
…..and having a Fat Boy ice cream sandwich for breakfast…..
I explained to her that while I might not say the correct name right away, I always get there in the end. It’s not that I don’t know their names. In fact, I remember the name of each of my grandkids, plus I know their birthdays by heart. And hers is coming up, so she’d better mind her Ps and Qs.
A bit after I received this photo, I asked how business was going. What do you think? was Maggie’s reply…..
But, desperate times call for desperate measures. So Lilly called her brother Austin for marketing help…..
I haven’t heard the final sales count, but those kids make me smile.
Nana's Whimsies 