Growing into our gifts

It’s true. I am that strange fellow who rants, raves, and writes stories about the many ways my October and November friends are growing and changing, continuing to “become,” even at their advanced age.

The fact is, at 60, 70, or even 80, we are always in the process of becoming someone different than we were yesterday. That’s a given. The more important question is this---is the person I am becoming a reasonable approximation of the person I was meant to be? Even in October and November, with all their attendant excuses for settling on something less, am I on track to be the best 'me' I can be, for my family, and my world?

I must admit, I find some of my own answers to that question hard to accept. After all, there are so many ways for us to 'become,' and so many habits and lifestyles that trap us in our old ways, making it hard to change. I was reminded of that a couple days ago when I read the following post.

It is from Brene Brown, Ph.D. (www.brenebrown.com), an author and research professor at the University of Houston. Though she and many in her audience are probably dealing with the July-August time of life, her emphasis on “growing into our gifts” strikes me as another way to frame the notion of 'becoming.' And certainly her closing remark ---”it’s time to show up and be seen” applies just as much to we October and November folks as it does to those August kids.

Here is what she has to say.

I think midlife is when the universe gently places her hand upon your shoulders, pulls you close, and whispers in your ear:

“I’m not screwing around. It’s time. All of this pretending and performing - these coping mechanisms that you’ve developed to protect yourself from feeling inadequate and getting hurt - has to go.

“Your armor is preventing you from growing into your gifts. I understand that you needed these protections when you were small. I understand that you believed your armor could help you secure all of the things you needed to feel worthy of love and belonging, but you’re still searching and you’re more lost than ever.

“Time is growing short. There are unexplored adventures ahead of you. You can’t live the rest of your life worried about what other people think. You were born worthy of love and belonging. Courage and daring are coursing through you. You were made to live and love with your whole heart. It’s time to show up and be seen.”

I can hear your October questions--- “How can I be ‘courageous and daring’ at my age? I am too set in my ways, too limited in what I can do---besides, I’m tired.”

Granted, our October becoming will probably not require a strong back and ripped abs. (A good thing too, since most days it is my back that is ‘ripped.’) But there are so many other ways to exploit our possibilities---to move beyond what we’ve been told we can do at our age and try, and in an age-appropriate way, keep ‘growing our gifts.’ 

We have learned so much along the way, more than we normally give ourselves credit for. And we are still on a ‘becoming’ path, whether we admit it or not. It is a matter of finding what works for us. This very afternoon I will be visiting with an October friend, helping him turn the novel he has always wanted to publish into a Print-on-Demand paperback. Even in retirement he is continuing to grow his gifts.

Finally, if Ms Brown’s insights resonate with you, I hope you will share this post and her website info with your July & August friends, including your own children. Help them understand why it is so important to continue down the path of Becoming.

Is This Our October Future?

As you might expect, over the years I’ve had a few folks take exception with my depiction of our 60s and 70s as “only” October. So far no one has argued for “September,” but quite a few of you have suggested a later month. 

Truth to tell, there are days when “November” better describes my mood and physical capabilities. Heck, I’ve probably dipped a toe in “December” a time or two. That’s why a few months ago I stepped forward to add “and November too” to the blog’s title.

But of course my use of “October” was never meant to be simply about age. When I use that label I am thinking of October as a state of mind. More to the point, like the October on a calendar, our October Years (and November too) are a time of harvest---a time to gather the fruits of all the seeds we’ve sown in the course of a lifetime and the things we’ve learned along the way. I happen to believe that even at our later years there are ways we can put that experience to good use.

I will admit that one of the risks I face in telling the October stories I tell is the temptation to dwell on the maudlin---stressing the negatives and hardships of late life. Of course, by this stage of the game we’ve all had our share of bumpy roads and unexpected detours. And there will be more of those. If we’ve been paying attention at all we should expect that. 

But this morning I am prompted to move beyond our individual circumstances and address something I find even more upsetting---something for which my personal life journey and the life views I have accumulated  have not adequately prepared me to deal with.

If you are my age, infirmity and distress are sure to have been part of your personal experience. I can accept that. Yet scarcely a day goes by when this November mind of mine does not struggle to make sense of a more sinister reality---the cultural infirmity and divisive distress that plague our society. 

What I perceive as the chaotic unraveling of our national persona has me wondering if things have always been this way. Having been lulled by decades of relatively-civilized peace, are we simply experiencing a regression to the human norm? Or has there been a fundamental change in the path of social evolution? Is there a new “human norm” being created?

How else would you interpret the headlines that assault our sensibilities daily? On the local level it feels like every morning’s newspaper and every evening’s newscast provides new evidence of predators and perverts, addicts and con-men, not to mention politicians gone amuck. At times it seems we have become accepting of an unprecedented scale of violence and mayhem. 

Have we grown so numb that we look right past the all-too- obvious warning signs---middle-school girls being bullied to death---wide-eyed young men unleashing their lethal revenge in our high schools---an ever-increasing number of us, young and old, dependent on mind-altering pharmaceuticals? There are times when it seems that our beloved nation is drowning in a tsunami of insanity.

And while our towns and neighborhoods struggle to stay afloat, our national political dysfunction continues to stir the flames of discord. Finger pointing and blame have displaced bipartisan problem solving. 

In a world of spiteful politics and crushing, always mounting debt, most of which will never be repaid, the great majority of us are being hung out to dry. Meanwhile the Wall Street and Washington vultures slowly circle, fighting to get their piece of the pie before it vanishes into the economic quicksand. The supposedly “drained swamps” still hide menacing creatures, and smell as bad as always.

Surely I am not the only one who wonders what has happened to the world we knew. It becomes harder and harder to recognize the country where I grew up and perhaps thought I understood. Small wonder the October characters I write about are apt to stumble as they try to make sense of it.

My question is simple enough. Has it always been like this? I’ll bet every one of us grew up hearing our parents and grand-parents grumbling about “the younger generation,” and how things were not this bad in “the good old days.” As I recall those same old sayings included hints of ancient cultures where age was equated with wisdom. Truth to tell, I’m getting old, but the wisdom and understanding I had hoped to gain seem to have eluded me.

So, are today’s headlines just more of the same? Did the world of our childhood and adolescence always include the troubles we read about now and watch on the tube? And if it did, is it the scale and frequency of those problems that has changed---or is our increased awareness simply a matter of more thorough reporting, better police work, and cameras on every street corner? 

Whether or not our generation is dealing with something new and different, I have no doubt that for many of us, this crazy new world impacts our ability to “thrive in our 60s and 70s.” If so, I’d say that makes it an October issue.

I would appreciate your help here, your input. If you wish, I hope you'll pass this on to your October  and November friends. (The email link below is easy to use.) As always I'd be interested in hearing your input via “Reply.” (below) 

With that, I will try to calm down a bit in time for the next post.

Some long-time readers may have noticed that once again I have edited an earlier post (6/27/14) to fit what seems to me a new and different world---one that I am struggling to make sense of. Will this rant of mine change the course of our descent? Not likely. Still, someone needs to speak up about these October concerns.

A return to yesteryear

2017 -- a new year, and the end of another family-centered holiday season. As always it was a time of Christmas cards and Christmas letters---reading about friends and family we may not hear from for another year

If that sounds superficial and synthetic, I would argue that it is not. There is no rule that says we have to see people every week or every month before we welcome news about the life they are living, and relive the memories we have created together. 

This year my personal memory bank was stirred up more than usual by a string of year-end updates from old (I use the term kindly) high-school classmates, who added their voices to the world of cyber communications. As you would expect 61 years after-the-fact, every one of them, like me, is dealing with their own personal form of November Years reality, and thankful for November understanding and support.

Another thing that struck me was the many age-appropriate ways my one-time classmates have found to make their late-life satisfying, even rewarding. As one who writes about those times, I know that it takes a certain resourcefulness to pull that off. Though there is certainly no ‘one-size-fits-all” way to do it, that elusive ‘right answer,’ the one that works for each of us, is well worth seeking.

Perhaps like me, you sometimes find that satisfaction by revisiting the past. I’ll bet we weren’t the only ones who spent a few holiday hours thumbing through photo albums, trying to convince the grandkids that our long ago ‘dorky’ good times were actually fun. Do you know a better way to brighten a day?

Of course, you can take that ‘remembering’ theme a bit further. A case in point---the new story Roma and I recently finished, which is actually a prequel to A Year to Remember. We call this one An Oregon Outback Odyssey and we are actively seeking feedback about how it reads. You can check it and the others out on our Amazon page.

An overview of An Oregon Outback Odyssey, you ask? You tell me, does this sound like a history worth revisiting?

                THEY WERE A TEAM - A MAN AND HIS HORSE

You remember those famous pairs---the ones from our childhood---Roy and Trigger, Gene and Champion, the Lone Ranger and Silver. It was a time when every kid wanted to be a cowboy. Yet, how many of us made that dream come true?

Well, we did. We bought a ranch, some cows, and that all important horse. And though they never made it to the silver screen, Gil and Star might have become a team worthy of  the Outback---if only Gil had learned to enjoy his time in the saddle.

More to the point, could the great Oregon Outback have made room for a wannabe cowboy who hoped to raise hogs?We started out with Priscilla Goodbody, then moved on to the only gay boy-pig in the whole darn county?

However, since I am not writing this post from Poison Creek Ranch, you can probably guess that particular detour did not pan out. Yet, when all is said and done, and I look back at how the last 61 years have treated me, I must conclude that I have been one of the lucky ones. I have a wife and family I scarcely deserve, equally-ancient former classmates to visit with, and the time and freedom to tell the stories I want to tell, the way I want to tell them. Come to think of it, I believe I have hit the jackpot. I hope you have been just as lucky.

Is this who you were intended to be?

Months ago I told myself there would come a time when I would run out of things to say about October. What happens then?

Now, having reached that moment, I know exactly what happens then. When I have nothing more to say, it's time to stop talking. But before I do that there are a handful of entries from a couple years back that I want to post again for readers who were not on board then. Then, having restated those October observations, I can ride off into the November sunset. What follows is the first of those “one more time” posts.

                                                        ~~~

The last day or two I have been processing a recent post about “thriving” in our October Years. In my own mental shorthand I define thriving as “coming closer to being the person I was meant to be.” That in turn leads to questions like---Am I thriving? Should I expect to thrive? Does it even matter one way or the other? I’ll admit, there are times when I’m inclined to forget all that and settle for being the person I am. But those nagging questions won’t go away.

Of course, thriving is a very personal thing. My thriving won’t look like your thriving. If you’re already an October thriver, chances are you’ve found the proper balance in your life. You can look ahead, while remembering the past. You can accept the person you have become, but hope to be more.

Yet from time to time I see, and perhaps you do too, October friends who seem not to be thriving. Perhaps they have been beaten down, or given up. Still, we must realize that such judgments are fraught with danger. Who has the right to judge? Who can say that his or her sort of thriving is the most acceptable kind? Thriving, and the change that often comes with it, are very individual matters. Your change need not look like my change.

I’ve mentioned “change” before on these pages. It seems to me an important part of October life---it’s still allowed at our age, you know. Take a moment to consider life  as an unending chain of choices and adaptations---in other words---change. Though we shouldn’t judge what change is appropriate for someone else, I am confident that adapting to life’s changing circumstances is an important part of thriving at any age. To use our October status as an excuse to stop “becoming,” is to sell ourselves short. It is a sad thing to see, or tell a story about---the person who believes it is too late to become something more---that change is not worth the effort at this late date?

One way to integrate change into late-life experience is in the context of a life lived on purpose. Do the concepts of “purpose” or “intention” resonate with you? Have you ever wondered if you have become the person you were meant to be? As you may have guessed by now, I’m a Wayne Dyer sort of guy. In Dr. Dyer’s life-view there are no accidents---things happen for a reason. To resist the changes implied by life’s “non-accidents” is akin to resisting our destiny.

As a storyteller I am constantly creating change in the lives of the characters I imagine into being. In a hopefully entertaining way I lead them from one place, with its particular circumstances and outlook, to another, hopefully more desirable, place. More than once I have used the notion of life’s “intention” to link someone’s beginnings (think childhood) to a much later October event. In the same way that it happens to each of us, I ask my characters to follow the continuous, perhaps twisted chain of change and adaptation to where it leads them.

Take for instance Jack Benz in Becoming. For fifty years, half a century, he has nurtured his improbable dream of knowing Her. During their high-school days at Tanner Southside High she had been Cindy Welton---social diva, miles out of his league. Later she became Cynthia Larson---socialite wife, living life in the fast lane. Until, that is, a devastating stroke changed her into someone her husband could no longer love. From the beginning the odds had been stacked against Jack---yet he had been willing to stay the course.

There in the front seat of his car Jack thought he had lost contact with Cynthia, until she looked up, ready with a new question. “Do you really believe that? What you said at lunch.”

“What did I say?”

“Last night, at the motel, you said that when something is meant to be it will happen if we give it a chance. Then today, at lunch, you told me that everything is working out just right---like it was supposed to.” She turned back to him. “Is that what you think? That you and I being here  right now was meant to be?”

“Meant to be?” Jack blinked at the sound of her words. For a instant it felt as though she had traced his own questions back to their source. He could not remember exactly where he first read about it---the idea that there might be an “intention” behind what he had always assumed to be the random unfolding of his life.

It was a notion that had captured his imagination. When viewed from that perspective, perhaps his years of unremarkable plodding had actually served a purpose. There might have been a reason for the way his life had played out. If nothing else, it would help explain the unlikely fact that Cynthia Larson, the late-life incarnation of school-girl Cindy Welton, was seated comfortably beside him, seeking his interpretation of their unexpected, perhaps life changing connection.

“I’ve read stuff like that---how everything happens for a reason.” He rolled his eyes, offering a hint of doubt for her benefit.

“According to that way of thinking there’s a purpose for everything that happens to us. It’s not just accidental. It means that every person who shows up in our life is there for a reason. We may not know what it is, but it’s important---otherwise they wouldn’t be there. It also means there can be reasons that we don’t necessarily understand, for things like your stroke and divorce. It might even explain why I’ve been such a pest lately.

“Just think about it.” Shifting in his seat to face her he hurried on, caught up in his not-so-conventional logic. “That day in the sixth grade, when we held hands and didn’t want anyone to see us. I’m not sure you even remember that. But I sure do. Anyway, I’d like to think that happened for a reason. Because, without those few minutes together, more than fifty years ago, we probably wouldn’t be sitting here today, talking about getting old together.”

For a few seconds the sight of the bridge in the distance seemed to capture Cynthia’s attention. When she looked back at him her crooked, but comfortable grin had returned. Was it the soundness of his argument  that had won her attention, she wondered, or the growing hope that he was right? “And you think all that happened because we held hands?” she asked softly. “It’s enough to make you think, isn’t it?”

“I’ve asked myself over and over,” Jack continued. “If being with you could be just a coincidence. There must have been a million different ways to get from where each of us was that day in the sixth grade to where we are now. It seems to me that you took the high road---living the good life with Eric, while I bounced along on the low road---working at my state job and drinking beer with Carl.” 

He had her hand again, squeezing to make his point. “Our paths were so different, but even with all the twists and turns, your way and my way both led to this exact time and place. 

“That sounds like what Carl calls ‘becoming.’ He says that everyone, even at our age, is in the process of changing, becoming someone new. That change may be something good. It may be something bad. But no one can stay the same. For you and me it feels like our ‘becoming’ has brought us right here. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t feel like an accident to me.”

Jack leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. Cynthia was not prepared to settle for that. Seconds later he pushed himself back into his seat, rebuckled his seat belt, and paused to wrap his mind around the improbable truth of it. After years of idle daydreams, Cindy Welton was sitting there beside him, looking forward to his company. True, she was no longer the youthful school girl who had first caught his eye. Like him, she had changed. Yet even after her stroke, with her crooked little smile and halting, jagged words, she had never been more appealing. Indeed, he was unwilling to accept those changes as accidental.

“I think we’d better be going.” He gently elbowed her good left arm. “I believe I’m beginning to feel a little under the weather. In fact, I think I’ll probably be needing a nurse.”

You can tell that I’m selling change---becoming something more---what I call thriving. You may not agree, but I am willing to believe that more than a little October change happens because a small voice is telling us we should keep striving and thriving, becoming closer to being the person we were meant to be.

A closer look at thriving

Here we are, deep in October, looking November right in the eye. Thanksgiving is on the horizon, and my eightieth birthday not far behind. For reasons I won’t bore you with, it feels like an appropriate time to revisit my own personal October and November, and my sometimes stumbling attempts to thrive in late life. After all, if I presume to help others make the most of their time, it seems like I should be willing to account for my own efforts. Beside, this is a Writer’s Blog, and I am a self-proclaimed writer. With that dubious excuse, I believe I will step up and have my say?

Let me begin with a question. What were you doing in May, 2005? It was only eleven-plus years ago. You can’t have forgotten so soon. So try again. Is there anything about that time that stands out in your memory? There certainly is for me. 

Like some of you I had already dabbled a bit at story telling by then. In fact there were two book-length manuscripts buried somewhere in a back closet, waiting to see the light of day. That is where things stood on that May day, way back in 2005. After seven year of retirement the golden promise of that time was beginning to tarnish, and the urge to write again was bubbling to the surface. It was then, with absolutely no pre-planning of any sort, that I began to sense the sort of story I would be telling.

I have noted before in these pages how my 50th high school reunion, just a month away at the time, served as the launching pad for the Harris brothers’ Second Chances story, and set me on an unexpected journey that would eventually have me addressing a wide range of late-life, October Years topics.

Without realizing where my renewed enthusiasm was leading me, the Harris brothers had laid the foundation for what would become the Tanner Chronicles---a series (ten so far, with eleven on its way.) of October and November appropriate relational stories, each of them dealing with late-life issues, and set in a place I call Tanner, which happens to look a lot like my hometown. A visit to this Amazon Author’s Page provides a quick overview of where this retirement project of mine has taken me. To further elaborate, what follows are thumbnail capsules of each Tanner Chronicles story.

Second Chances -- The Harris brothers are nearing 70, widowed and lonely. It is their 50th high school reunion that stirs long-forgotten feelings, and exposes unexpected possibilities for one more chance.

Long Way Home    -- The Harris’ determined pursuit continues, with even more drama, wins and losses, while seeking their elusive Second Chance.

Becoming    -- Carl and Jack are in their mid-sixties. It may look like they are treading water, yet each of them nurses late-life dreams, intent on proving Carl's stubborn belief that we never stop "becoming," even in October.

Going Poor -- Lane’s ultimate destination is there for the world to see. He is Going Poor. Actually, he is already there. Now he must decide if  he is willing to pay the price for something better?

Going Home -- Going home may trigger warm memories. For Tom Fedder the thought of it produces only dread, and unpleasant recollections of a past he would rather forget---at least  until he senses those unexpected feelings for her, the ones he was sure he had put aside years before. 

Best Friends and Promises -- Aaron learns that best friends are more important than he expected. His wife has been carried away by dementia, and his lifelong friend in is the ICU. Will his new lady friend’s comforting presence make things better or worse?

Breathing Underwater -- Facing an unexpected ‘underwater’ future, Jim and Anita must downsize. Given their nearly opposite ways of dealing with that depressing situation the ensuing drama is probably predictable, and certainly more complicated than they had imagined.

Family Matters -- They had waited anxiously for the arrival of their “golden years.” But now Dan and Nell cannot agree on a retirement agenda. They are miles apart when their daughter arrives just in time to hear them debating about ‘home’---what it means and where it is.

October Bold -- They are such an unlikely pair. Their circumstances could not be more different. To make matters worse, their natural timidity constrains their wanting. Something new is required---perhaps something as unlikely as October Bold.

Conversations With Sarah -- For decades Hank has relied on Sarah’s common sense counsel. Suddenly he is alone, fighting off the 'wily widows' and facing relational challenges he had never imagined. When he needs his Sarah the most she is gone, or is she?

October Years -- A compilation of more than fifty of these October Years blog posts

Sadly, though the Amazon catalog lists dozens of categories in its “fiction” offerings, “Senior relational fiction” is not one of them. (Disclaimer--when writing about 70 year olds I prefer “relational” to “romance.” That must be a guy thing.) So if hulky, bare-chested Alpha males are your thing, you won’t find them in the stories listed above. On the other hand if late-life reality---complete with Beta males who would like to feel that way again, but know their limits---appeals to you I invite you to check out one these Tanner Chronicles stories.

And that, my friend, is an abbreviated look at how I have attempted to thrive in late-life. Hopefully you have created your own form of October Years coping. To be sure, thriving is a very personal thing. If something works for you, there is no need for a second opinion. 

Remember, you’ve read about an eighty year-old guy who gets his kicks writing about lonely seniors who want something more from life. If he can look the world in the eye and say that’s his thing, you can do the same with whatever you’ve decided to pursue.

If you would care to share your ‘thriving’ story I urge you to leave a Comment below. Beyond that, if you know someone whose fictional tastes might include the Tanner Chronicles I hope you will pass this post along to them.

See you next time.

My kind of club

    Can you believe it? Turns out I am a charter member of an organization I didn't even know existed. To be sure, the Dull Man's Club (Born to be mild) is my kind of club---no dues, no meetings, and very few rules.
    As one of our members explains, "Time is what keeps everything from happening at once." And if there is one thing we Dullers are good at, it is taking our time.
    If you are one of those "on the go" sort, who doesn't have time to take your time, I urge you to slow down long enough to check out this delightful Dull Man's Club link. You won't be sorry. And if you know someone who might be an unsuspecting candidate for membership I hope you will "Share" this with them.
    Now, I must remember to tell the wife that "dull is good." Near as I can tell she thinks I'm just dull. Maybe she needs more time.



.
    

A break in the action

I suppose it says something about my own priorities at this stage of life. The wife is talking about a family gathering when I turn eighty in a couple months. I’d like that. It’s always a good time when we get the whole clan together.

But in the meantime I am quite enjoying the luxury of a very personal ‘good time’---that space in the flow of my days when the latest story is ready to send off for a draft copy---the one we will edit and mark up, making it ready for what I am willing to call complete.

With that first draft behind me I can take time to look at the blank page that awaits. It is a liberating place to be. A story-in-progress is bound to limit our creative options. Whatever we add to the mix must mesh with what has come before. But the blank page in front of me now, a new story waiting to be told, offers the best sort of freedom. It can lead anywhere I choose to take it. That latitude is so comforting that I am sometimes reluctant to send it away by beginning a new piece.

Yet, truth be told, I have at least a general idea where the next tale will take me. The route it takes to get there remains to be seen. But however it plays out, you can be sure it will be about life choices, the kind we can still make in our personal October and November. In one way or another it will reflect the ideas I addressed in this previous blog post. I happen to believe it was true then---and is true today.

                ~~~

Hey, we’re October people, aren’t we? We know from experience how complicated life can be. Even the most mundane existence is an constant stream of highs and lows. The exact mix of ingredients is a very individual thing, but from the beginning the life we live is an ever-changing blend of choices made (or not made) and actions taken (or not taken). 

As a storyteller I do my best to describe and illustrate the chain of actions and interactions, thoughts and choices that make up my story. My goal is simple enough. I want the reader to care about what happens to the characters I have set in motion. Yet in the telling I have the luxury of focusing on particular elements of the story---truths or opinions I consider worth exploring in depth. That makes each of those books a very personal expression.

We know how hard our October years can be. Chances are November will bring additional trials. Each of my Tanner Chronicles stories deals with some form of that unsettling reality. In the course of eleven books I have touched on a wide array of October challenges. Yet in every case my emphasis is not the dark side of late-life, but instead the affirming role that relationships play in helping us deal with those hard times.

I have made the point before. What I call “relational” stories are something very different than the “romance” novels you see on the supermarket shelves. Like you, I know a thing or two about romance. I’ve been there---and I’m glad for that. It was a special time of life, when hormones and inclination combined to make youthful romance perfectly appropriate.

But that was April. This is October, or perhaps November. A different sort of relationship is just as appropriate. For the last fifteen years Roma and I have visited our congregation’s shut-ins on a regular basis. We have called on dozens of special friends who were facing late-life alone. For some of them that was by choice---and the choice was certainly theirs to make. For others it just turned out that way. In either case there was no denying the sense that something important was missing.

Which brings me to a particular October truth I have explored more than once. If growing old can be a trial, then growing old together must be the most blessed of age-appropriate blessings. Facing October and beyond in the company of a caring and supportive life partner is the best way I know to deal with those intimidating circumstances. Of course, in the process each of them will struggle from time to time. That is an October given. But they will be struggling together.

There are a million ways to tell a story that emphasizes the virtue of “struggling together.” Allow me to offer one of my own---from Long Way Home.

Elly Warren is a year removed from a life-changing relational disaster. She has experienced the pain of great loss up close and personal---leaving her determined to never let it happen again. Keeping the possibility of a new relationship at arms length has become a way of life. But now her best friend, Claudia Harris, is on the phone, asking her to consider that choice in a different light.

              ~~~

“It’s mostly a matter of being lonely,” Elly explained. “Day after day, it’s all the same. There’s nothing to look forward to. I go shopping every couple days. I do lunch at the club with the girls. But it doesn’t help. I honestly don’t know what do. It’s all so complicated.”

Claudia could tell her friend was struggling. Would she be willing to hear another point of view? “You know, I’m not so sure it’s all that complicated,” she suggested as she shifted the phone to her other ear. “In fact, I’m guessing it’s really quite simple.”

“What do you mean?” 

“It seems to me you have a choice to make. That’s what I mean. Just one choice, nothing more. That doesn’t sound so complicated does it?”

Elly was not sure how to respond. “What are you talking about? What choice is that?”

“Do you want to be alone---or not? That’s the question you have to answer---the choice you have to make” Was this going to work, Claudia asked herself. Would Elly even listen? “You’re seventy years old, aren’t you? And what little family you have is in California. Which means you’re basically on your own. Right?”

“I suppose so.”

“I’m sure there are fellows at the club who would be willing to help out. But you won’t let that happen, will you? I know that you think you have all the answers. But what if you’ve been asking the wrong questions?”

“For heaven sakes, Claudia. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about reality---about the real world. Take a moment to imagine yourself ten years from now. Think about what you might be facing if you were eighty and all alone. How do you suppose you’d cope with whatever that future looks like? The thing is, you can decide right now whether you want that to be your future, You can decide if you want to be by yourself or with someone who can be there to help if you need it---someone who makes things better?” 

Claudia’s soft laugh might have sounded out of place, at least until she added, “We don’t like to think about that, do we?”

“You’re right,” Elly replied. Why was her friend going on about things no one wanted to think about---now or later?

“But that brings us right back to the one question you need to answer. Do you want to spend your future, whatever it turns out to be, by yourself or with a partner---someone who can help you---someone you can help?”

“Claudia. Don’t forget I had ‘someone’ before.” Elly countered, falling back on her well-tested defenses. “He turned out to be the problem, not the answer. Why would I want to go there again?”

“You’re getting sidetracked, Elly.” Claudia was pacing now, from one end of the patio to the other. “Just concentrate on that one question. Do you want a future by yourself? Or would you rather share it with someone?”

“But, I told ....”

“Elly. Listen to me.” Claudia’s emphatic interruption startled even herself. “Forget about ‘before.’ That’s ancient history. Just answer that one question---by yourself or with someone?”

“I just can’t believe it’s that simple, just one question.”

“It is simple. I’m not saying it’s easy, because it’s not. But it is simple. Just ask yourself that one question. If you decide you want to go on alone, like you are now,  then there’s no need to worry about anything else. Because you’ve already decided. You’ve answered the question.” 

“It is much safer this way, you know. There’s less chance of getting hurt again.” Elly’s words carried a harsh, remembering edge that lasted until, “The thing is, it’s so lonely. I know there ought to be more.”

“Perhaps that’s your answer then. Maybe you’ve already made that choice.”

“But, how can I know for sure?”

“Elly.” Claudia was past caring if the neighbors heard her. “We’re not talking about a sewing machine or a new car. It doesn’t come with a guarantee. There is no extended warranty. It’s about taking a chance. If that sounds too scary, if it’s not worth the risk, then don’t do it.”

“But I can’t go on like this. It’s too lonely.”

“Then you have to step out and take a chance. You have to trust again, even if ‘trusting’ has hurt you before. You have to try.“

                                             ~~~

There you have it, my friend, another peek into the daunting world of October Bold, an interpretation of what I consider to be a late-life truth. It is about thriving in our 60s and 70s (and beyond), wringing all we can from late-life. It may involve taking a chance now and then, even when it’s scary. It may include trusting, even when you’re not sure you can do that again. And of course, there will be no guarantees---no matter what path we choose. 

In the end “thriving” is a matter of being willing to try. That is true on a relational level---whether you decide your way is to go on alone, or you hope to rely on a new relationship. It’s also true for just about any other October challenge you can think of---like telling stories and writing blogs, or some other late-life project that works for you.

This Amazon Author’s page gives you an idea of where my own October and November have taken me.