Fitting In: Too Many, Too Few

    Fitting in--where? with who (or is it whom)?

   Saturday, we took the light rail to downtown Denver to check out Taste to Colorado.  The festival originated in it's current form in 1985.  We remember attending at some point before 2009 when we moved out of our house and began traveling all year.  

    This visit, we realized we didn't fit in with the crowd that attends such festivals.  We have lived too many years and we have too few (read 0) tattoos.  In other words, almost everyone was under the age of 40 and most had numerous tattoos.  A far cry from the people we see regularly in Arizona in our 55+ resort, or in most RV parks around the country.  Our generation is obviously out of step with modern culture.

    The festival features both music and food.

There were numerous food trucks. This is called The Party Truck.  I don't think they served food but each compartment offers a TV screen and different music.

Many of the restaurants offered outdoor seating.

This water park offered fun for children.

Some of the entertainment went beyond music.

 

We saw murals on buildings.

The Daniels and Fisher building is 325 feet high and when it was built in 1910, it was the tallest building between the Mississippi River and California.  John's senior class sneak included visiting the tower and going to the top.  My class didn't have a senior sneak.  That would have been tough to arrange--there were 308 of us in the class.  John's class had 54 students.

    We didn't take any photos of the tattoo-covered young women and men.  That would have been rude.  But trust me, there were lots of them.

    Waiting for the light rail to return to our apartment.

    Our return trip on the light rail took us by the buildings that once housed Gates Rubber Company.  My dad spent most of his working life there as a cost accountant.  The company offered summer jobs to the children of employees--a form of financial or scholarship assistance.  I worked there two summers.  I rode to work with my dad and he always included me in the morning coffee gathering in the cafeteria before work began.

    Downtown Denver includes several cow sculptures.  I get cows in Colorado--a major cattle ranching economy.  

As we travel around the country, we see many different conversions of Airstream trailers.  This one was one of the food service vehicles at the festival.  Our Airstream is still for travel.  Some day, perhaps someone else will convert it for some other use.

  We did enjoy our walk up and down 16th Street.  And we split a sandwich from the Corner Bakery.  This is the cool tile floor in the bakery.

Are we only as old as we think we are?

I started blogging in 2006.  We had been RVing for 16 years and I decided to keep our family informed about where we were and what we were doing through a blog.  I was 63 years old.  But age is just a number isn't it?  Aren't we only as old as week feel we are?

Today we are 77, nearly 78 years old.  So, how old to I feel I am?  Every bit of those 77 years!  

About 19 years ago, I suffered a torn meniscus and it hurt, at times pretty bad.  After a period of time, I went to the urgent care nearby and had an Xray.  They sent me to a surgeon.  Until the surgery was scheduled, I wrapped the knee and went about my normal everyday life--as best I could.  That surgery made a real difference.

Eventually, that meniscus surgery no longer took care of the problem.  My knee began to bother me, almost every time I stepped on that foot.  Long story short, in mid-November I had a total knee replacement of my right knee. 

Let me tell you, those years have made a difference.  The surgery has healed well.  I am recovering very well.  But, at 77 healing and total recovery takes time--more than I would like.  Every time we walk, I feel it in my right knee. It hurts.  And the long we walk, the more it hurts.  

I haven't recovered like I did nearly 20 years ago.  I wonder why?  Is it my age, do you think?  I know I do.   It took my 77+ years to get to this point.  And every bone, joint and muscle in my body is also 77 years old.  They are at times as slow acting and as slow recovering as I am.

Age is more than how I feel.  Age is an actual, verifiable fact.  Live with it.

What Happens Here

We are spending two weeks at Cherry Creek State Park in Aurora. Since young people are back in school and the summer vacation season is over, what goes on here during the week? We feel very comfortable because most of the campers are around our age and most of them are in fairly large RVs. Only on weekends do we see many small travel trailers, tents and pop-up campers.

This morning I walked down to the swim beach on the 880 acre reservoir that provides water to the city of Denver and for agriculture. I saw a large flock of sea gulls. Don't they know oceans are hundreds of miles away? (Click on the photo to enlarge and see the birds.)



There were 2 old men (about my age) with metal detectors, looking for treasure on the beach and in the shallow water.





And I spotted a cormorant and an egret fishing in the shallow water. (Maybe you can see the egret if you click to enlarge the photo.)



Isn't it wonderful to enjoy places like this when the weather is sunny and warm and the park isn't very busy. Oh, the blessings of being retired and RVing!

Who Is That Old Woman?

Who is that old woman? She looks an awful lot like my mother. Yikes! I’m looking in the mirror and she is me. How did I get this old? For years, I’ve seen my mother when I looked in the mirror. In fact, since grade school, people have recognized my mother because I looked so much like her. But I didn’t see it until I was in my 40s or 50s.

Later this week, it’s my time to turn 70. John reached that milestone in February. Years ago, I saw a reference to women with crepe paper necks. I really know what that means today. It isn’t just my neck. It is my arms and my thighs. But probably the worst part is that I am shrinking. No, not losing weight. I am getting shorter. Apparently, our spines compress and we get shorter as we age. That means, I can weigh the same but be fatter around my middle. Yuk!

Some birthdays are more remarkable or significant than others. At 16, I got my driver’s license. At 21, I could legally drink. I’d rather be 40 than pregnant, I said (and meant it). Fifty—half a century—was significant. When I turned 60, we went on a hot air balloon ride. I had been over weight and out of shape for years. But for the previous 9 months I had been working out on weights and losing weight. I felt capable of getting in that balloon basket—and out. And the rather hard landing confirmed the idea I needed to be somewhat fit to do it.

In the past 10 years, I have become more fit than ever in my life. For over 5 years, I ran 3 miles a day—something I had sworn I would never do. And I loved it. But my aging body had different ideas.

At this age, I feel like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz. Somebody oil me! When I wake up, it is hard to get moving. It is really funny to watch me try to get down to the ground after I’ve been on my feet for some time. My joints do well when I keep moving, but if I keep them in one position for very long, they would rather no change position. “A body at rest, stays at rest; a body in motion, stays in motion,” so they say. However, I can no longer run with my arthritic knees—at least if I want to walk comfortably the rest of the day.

In addition to arthritis, I have been fighting high blood pressure for the last 13 or 14 years. I find I don’t have the energy I used to have. I used to work 8 hours, commute for a total of 60 to 90 minutes a day and spend the evening teaching a class at church or cleaning house or working on the computer till 10 at night. Can’t do that now.

All of this is the negative side and negative feelings. But all is not doom and gloom. I am grateful almost every day for what I can still do. This week we went on a 5- to 6-mile hike at 9,600 feet elevation. I look around at others in my age group and many won’t walk a block, much less 5 miles.

I am blessed with a husband I love and who is my best friend. We never run out of things to talk about. We have a great lifestyle, traveling the country in our RV. There are lots of places to go and things to see. I look forward to the future—it just isn’t as long a future as I used to plan for.

Life is good, even at the age of 70. What do you suppose I will be doing when I turn 80?

What a Hike!

Wednesday, we hiked to Fremont Saddle in the Superstition Mountains. Although it isn't a really long hike--a little over 2 miles one way--it is by far the most difficult hike we have been on this year. The trail is steep and very rocky. My hips and thigh muscles are still unhappy this evening. But we are so glad we went. This is the third time we have hiked this trail. Last year, we didn't because of my knee issues. This year it was on our bucket list of things we wanted to do while here. And we did it! In fact, we both felt it was easier than we had remembered.

The scenery is so interesting. There are lots of volcanic rock outcroppings.



This yucca isn't unusual, but it is interesting.



There were lots of wildflowers on the hillsides.





The trail was busy. This is Spring break, so we saw families with children and grandchildren, as well as college students. This gives a whole new outlook on taking your dog for a walk.



You may not be able to make it out in this photo, but there are rocks in the holes in the prickly pear pads. Did they get there naturally, or by human intervention?



So, why did we put our 70-year-old bodies through this test? It was to get this great view of Weaver's Needle. And it was worth it.

More Desert and Sunshine

Thursday, we took another hike in the desert. This time is was the Pass Mountain Trail at Usery Mountain Park. The desert there is incredibly green and lush.



There was bright green lichen on the rocks.



We had lots more sunshine, both from above, as you can see from John's shadow here



and on the Pass Mountain hillsides, which had lots of poppies.





Of course, John had to take a picture of me taking pictures of all those flowers.



It was a great hike, but we were really, really tired by the end. We are delighted that we can, at this age, still complete a 7-mile hike. But we sure don't want to do it very often.

70 Years

A post by John:

Today is my birthday. I am now 70 years old. Carol was born 3 months after I was, so she, too, will celebrate her 70th birthday this year. Birthdays and age have never been a concern to either of us until this year. We have talked about...thought about...discussed, laughed and contemplated this event for several months.

The first time I can remember realizing someone was in their 70s was when I was a child. My grandparents lived next door. Just before my grandfather died, he became very ill and needing almost constant care, he took up brief residence in my parents' bedroom. He was so sick that he was transferred onto an ambulance stretcher, placed in my father’s ambulance, and transported to a Denver hospital where he died. He was in his 70s. I know that because I remember my parents telling me his age; and that made a deep impression on me. I thought when someone reached 70 they were so old that they were near death.

My father owned an ambulance business and before I was a teenager I was accompaning my father on the ambulance as an attendant. We transported many elderly people to the hospital from West’s Nursing Home, which was first located in Palmer Lake and later in Castle Rock, Colorado. Many of those patients were in their 70s. They were physically ill, usually emaciated and disoriented, and they almost always smelled like body waste.

In spite of the negative issues associated with 70-year-olds, I tended to like them personally. My grandmother was kind and a fun person to spent time with, her Swedish friends from Denver were a hoot. I enjoyed talking with those people as well as those folks we transported to the hospital and the old members of our church.

I began assisting my father at funerals before I was even in high school. One of my responsibilities was to greet people as they arrived for a funeral, invited them to sign the guest register, and show them to a seat. Most people who attend funerals are elderly and because we lived in a small community, everyone of those elderly people knew me. To a person they were kind and friendly and they genuinely liked conversing with me.

Old people were a constant and positive part of my life. I was taught to respect older people and I did. Spending time in their presence exposed me to their life stories and experiences. I could easily become fascinated with a humerous or interesting story that related to an old person’s life.

It’s funny that all this exposure from a very early age never led me to consider the fact I’d grow old. I’ve always seen myself as young, strong, and capable. When I reached my 50th birthday I had just started a new chapter in my ministry career by accepting a Rector’s postion in a new congregation. Most members of that church were 20 or more years older than I was and they let me know in no uncertain terms that I was their junior.

Being 50 offered me the opportunity to join AARP. That meant lots of senior discounts. How cool, I got senior discounts and felt like I was in my early 40s!

Carol and I began attending Elder Hostel weekends because we were finally “old enough” to particiate. But when we went to the weekend gathering our fellow attendees were all older and, again, they constantly were bringing up the fact they were surprised we were “old enough” to share that experience with them.

By the time I went into simi-retirement I was a very young 55. I was delighted to be moving into retirement, but I was often embarrased to tell people I was simi-retired. I would hear people say: “Your too young to retire!”

When I reached 60 I retired. Carol and I were physically active. We ran 12 to 15 miles a week and weight trained three days a week. We traveled in a 5th wheel RV extensively and volunteered in State and National Parks performing strenous tasks. When we compared ourselves with our peers we were almost always in better physical condition and willing and able to physically do anything we chose.

In our 69th year, Carol and I drove our RV from Arizona to the southern tip of Texas and spent 3 months volunteering at a U S Fish and Wildlife Refuge. Then we drove 11,000 on a wonderful trip to Canada and Alaska. Not something an elderly person would do, would they. At least if they thought of themselves as elderly. We didn’t so we did.

That trip, however, was physically taxing. Through out those months of travel we kept reflecting and commenting on how we were feeling the effects of the adventure. We came away from the experience saying we would probably never expose ourselves to another trip that demands so much of our attention and time and effort.

For perhaps the first time in our lives we have been aware of the effects of our age. Oh, that doesn't mean we smell bad, and we are not emaciated. But for the first time in our lives we have to admit changes are coming. AND, for the first time in my life...I feel my age...and my age is 70.