CHASING DOWN THE MUSE

Age is a terrible thief. Just when you’re getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops your back. — from “Water for Elephants” by Sara Gruen

As I ready to make another trip to the desert to visit my mother — this time to celebrate her 91st birthday — I remember these somewhat tongue-in-cheek lines and others from the wonderful book by Ms. Gruen. This young woman really seems to nail aging on the head in her main character, Jacob. In fact, on my last visit to my mother’s just two weeks ago “Water for Elephants” provided us with many delightful candid moments.

As usually is the case when I visit, my sister and I were asked to join my mother and four of her friends for dinner in the dining hall of the senior center where they live. Mary, Barbara, Naomi, and Elizabeth are a lively group and I always enjoy their company, but this night was really special.

We had finished eating. Usually this is when the ladies complain a bit about the meal or the service and begin to drift away to favorite TV programs or other pursuits, but Elizabeth mentioned a book she was seeking for her book club and that started us off. I mentioned how much I was enjoying reading “Water for Elephants” and questions were raised, as most of them had heard of it.

When I paraphrased the following quote things really took off. Looking in the mirror, Jacob says he finds “an Appalachian apple doll, withered and spotty, with dewlaps and bags and long floppy ears…. Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes, I can’t find myself anymore. When did I stop being me?”

I don’t know what I expected, but certainly not the camaraderie and ease of self-mockery this quote engendered. Stories were flying, along with the energetic laughter that was aroused. It seemed each of us had some similar experience of mirrors to share. We laughed and laughed, even the most vain of us at ease with telling these stories on ourselves. We were just women enjoying each other.

After more than two hours around the dinner table with these friends of my mother — all at least 20 years my senior — I was refreshed by their interest and excitement, by their adventurousness, joie de vivre, and pure zest for life. There was a candor expressed that more than echoed that of the character Jacob from Ms. Gruen’s novel. They shamed me by their very vitality. I look forward to more time with them and others like them. Sure, they have their little idiosyncrasies, but don’t we all?

Old age and death are synonymous to many and are met with a program of avoidance. My past times with these women and others, my reading, and even my own life experience have taught me that old age has its own richness of being. Rather than being a linear thing, life is a circle of wholeness, a cycle with death as only one part. The women of my acquaintance are not afraid of death, but of ill health and frailty and nothing happening in their lives.

As our population moves more and more toward a large group of centenarians, we will become used to looking at our elders in new ways. Even though our elders may not fully understand the technological advances (and many of them do at least utilize them eagerly), their perspective on the world has merit. We can benefit greatly from association with our elders. We cannot just put the elderly away some place where nothing happens to them anymore. Most of them still want to be a vital part of life. They want something to happen to them. As Jacob says in the novel, “I’m not ready to be old yet.”

Tuesday will be my mother’s birthday. I look forward to helping make something special and memorable happen for her on that day. Surprise, perhaps. What shall it be? Maybe the gift of “Water for Elephants,” which, of course, I recommend to all of my readers. It is pure delight. Definitely, I look forward once again to time spent with this wonderful group of women.

Cherril Doty is an artist, writer, and creative coach aging and exploring the many mysteries of life in the moment. She can be reached by e-mail at cherril@cherildoty.com or by phone at (949) 251-3883.