Today, for some reason I just want to talk to Pamela Thelwell. Pam was an interesting woman, but she was more intense than I. She wanted every one to be perfect just like her. If some one did some thing for her or she appreciated some thing, she felt it deserved a note of thanks. A handwritten note of thanks just like people use to do when I was a youngster. People now longer do these things.
She wanted friends to be to her what she was to them. I don't know what that meant because she was always complaining about some one or some thing. In a way Pam was sort of funny because she was some what paranoid. It seemed as though folks were out to get her. As a matter of fact, the last conversation we had she was really angry at every one where ever she had worked in the last few years. Now her legs were hurting her so bad that she was angry because no one came to help her. I told Pam that she should call and ask for help because no on knows what is going on in her life. She got huffy which is her nature and said the every one should call her. Mind you, Pam's telephone was a miserable sort of phone. If it took messages you never knew it, or if she bothered to even listen to them or if the phone worked properly which it didn't most of time. On the otherhand, it was hard to know her schedule; for some reason she thought every one just knew.
Pam got to the point where she was wearing large blotches of rouge on her cheeks sort of like Betty Boop. Sure I was worried about Pam, but she could change a subject and brush you off so fast that oftentimes you just didn't get the to "I am worried about you Pam." When I got the news that Pam was killed while crossing the street, I could only remember our last conversation....which was a call for help rather then her usual diatribes about the people we know, and I mistook for her usual paranoia.
Pam was a really nice lady and a lot of fun in her own way, but too intense for me. I am intense enough even though my cardio doctor calls it a funny sense of calm that I exude.
I don't know what I want to say to Pam, but I wish her well wherever she is: and I hope she is with her beloved husband who died in an unexpected car accident when she and her boys were very young. She loved that man so much and talked about him so much that I had to remember at times that he was dead, and has been for more than forty years. I can only imagine that they are together and having a grand time picking up where they left off many years ago. I envision only love and laughter and peaceful moments drinking wine from beatiful glasses with her beloved husband who is still very young.
I have no regrets for many of my friends are making their transitions long before their time in my mind, but God needs them more than we. And so, I end this prayer for my dear beautiful intense friend with her loud resounding laughter and vibrant energy force "Bon Voyage Dear Pam"
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Ramble...Insight
Growing, growing constantly growing.
I have been searching for a companion on the online dating sites. I have spent a lot of money, done a lot of profiles, and have even been a couple of dates; however, I have been thorougly disappointed with many of the responses and encounters.
It seems that men in their 60s and 70s still think like many men in their early 20s or 40s... they think like "Fantasy Island." Or, perhaps I have a misconstrued idea of what dating is suppose to be for folks in their 60s and 70s.
For one, I never thought I would grow up to find myself "in search" of a companion in my 60s. I spent so much of my time in my 50s and early 60s preparing for my retirement--I wanted independence in my old age. I worked long hours and dated or socialized very little because of time constraints. For some reason or other, I just thought that every one would wait for me. But, it didn't happen.
Although there seems to be a large supply of men on some of the services; on the other hand, there seems to be none. Whenever a young man in his late 40s or early 50s would try to "woo" me, I would put up my shield because I don't want to work with any one to build a life. I have already done my do or paid my dues. I don't want to work to build a business or a home or even to raise some one else's small children or to put any more children through college or to put up with the "rebel without a cause" teenagers or even help pay for hidden child support. What happened while I was out preparing for retirement? The world changed so much I can hardly identify with it....did some one move the planet, and I missed the space ship?
One day as I was walking to the drug store which is across the street from my condo, an elderly gentleman, dressed in one of those old plaid polyester Leisure suits of the 60s or 70s, was anxiously walking up and down the sidewalk mumbling some thing to himself. He asked me about the address. I told him; he was standing in the right place. He said that he was to meet a young lady there, but she was late. He commenced to tell me that he was 90 yo, was a retired lawyer who had completed all 12 classes to attain his law degree--no timeline. Puzzled, I asked, "all you had to take was 12 classes?" He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "yes." Then, he said "well I guess she isn't coming I guess I had better leave." He pulled out a set of car keys, and I asked him. "Are you driving?" He said, "sure, the cars, nowadays, drive themselves." He got into a small blue car and as he left the parking lot, he made his wheels squeal as he rounded the corner. I was left in shock. Here a 90 yo man was waiting for his date who evidently stood him up, or he or she had the wrong address or corner to meet on. It was hard for me at that time to reconcile the fact that this man was dating in his 90s. BTW he did say she was "a kid" in her 50s.
I am still puzzled about what this dating idea is suppose to be because when my 24 yo grandson tells me how I am to conduct myself on a date it is not what I invision a mature woman like myself who is use to the old traditional dating styles of the 50s and 60s is suppose to conduct herself. I, too, think that a mature gentleman would expect a women of my culture and ilk to conduct herself in like manner and decorum. I just don't know what to do. So, I will simply stay the way I am because if I am to have a meaningful and fulfilling companion in my latter years it will happen or not. I am not going to perplex over it. Just very concerned about the "so called" rules for dating in ones 60s and 70s. Is there a book yet? Or, is it my turn to write one? Just a thought.
I have been searching for a companion on the online dating sites. I have spent a lot of money, done a lot of profiles, and have even been a couple of dates; however, I have been thorougly disappointed with many of the responses and encounters.
It seems that men in their 60s and 70s still think like many men in their early 20s or 40s... they think like "Fantasy Island." Or, perhaps I have a misconstrued idea of what dating is suppose to be for folks in their 60s and 70s.
For one, I never thought I would grow up to find myself "in search" of a companion in my 60s. I spent so much of my time in my 50s and early 60s preparing for my retirement--I wanted independence in my old age. I worked long hours and dated or socialized very little because of time constraints. For some reason or other, I just thought that every one would wait for me. But, it didn't happen.
Although there seems to be a large supply of men on some of the services; on the other hand, there seems to be none. Whenever a young man in his late 40s or early 50s would try to "woo" me, I would put up my shield because I don't want to work with any one to build a life. I have already done my do or paid my dues. I don't want to work to build a business or a home or even to raise some one else's small children or to put any more children through college or to put up with the "rebel without a cause" teenagers or even help pay for hidden child support. What happened while I was out preparing for retirement? The world changed so much I can hardly identify with it....did some one move the planet, and I missed the space ship?
One day as I was walking to the drug store which is across the street from my condo, an elderly gentleman, dressed in one of those old plaid polyester Leisure suits of the 60s or 70s, was anxiously walking up and down the sidewalk mumbling some thing to himself. He asked me about the address. I told him; he was standing in the right place. He said that he was to meet a young lady there, but she was late. He commenced to tell me that he was 90 yo, was a retired lawyer who had completed all 12 classes to attain his law degree--no timeline. Puzzled, I asked, "all you had to take was 12 classes?" He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "yes." Then, he said "well I guess she isn't coming I guess I had better leave." He pulled out a set of car keys, and I asked him. "Are you driving?" He said, "sure, the cars, nowadays, drive themselves." He got into a small blue car and as he left the parking lot, he made his wheels squeal as he rounded the corner. I was left in shock. Here a 90 yo man was waiting for his date who evidently stood him up, or he or she had the wrong address or corner to meet on. It was hard for me at that time to reconcile the fact that this man was dating in his 90s. BTW he did say she was "a kid" in her 50s.
I am still puzzled about what this dating idea is suppose to be because when my 24 yo grandson tells me how I am to conduct myself on a date it is not what I invision a mature woman like myself who is use to the old traditional dating styles of the 50s and 60s is suppose to conduct herself. I, too, think that a mature gentleman would expect a women of my culture and ilk to conduct herself in like manner and decorum. I just don't know what to do. So, I will simply stay the way I am because if I am to have a meaningful and fulfilling companion in my latter years it will happen or not. I am not going to perplex over it. Just very concerned about the "so called" rules for dating in ones 60s and 70s. Is there a book yet? Or, is it my turn to write one? Just a thought.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Ramble...On and on
It has been a really crazy summer for me. Now as we approach the "Dog's Days" of summer, I always feel as though this is the last of summer for within a few weeks it will be time for school to start again, and I would be back in the classroom.
This is my first summer of retirement, and I thought it would be filled with grandchildren. They called it "Camp Granny." It started as soon as school was out in June, and I was to transport them home by train in August just before school. However, when my son showed up with the girls (6 and 8 yo), the plan was for him to clean and repair my windows as well as some other chores on my "Honey Do" list. For the entire of June, I had a great time cooking fun receipes and "oatmeal"--an all time favorite, and taking the girls on long walks to Greynolds Park, and thrifting at thrift stores, and they really enjoyed church. During one of my workouts, I sprained my shoulder again, so I began to slow down from the pain. I suggested to my son that he take the girls home because I didn't think I would be able to properly care for them. He said he was waiting for me to make the suggestion.
Before they left, I had started to develop a slight cough; then, it turned into a really nasty cough; then, before I knew it, I was really sick. I didn't call the doctor, but my children from Lakeland, FL, Houston, TX and Pittsburgh, PA called me almost every day to check on me. They bugged me to go to the doctor, but I kept assuring them that I was OK. I just had a bad cold.
One night I ventured out to get Alka Seltzer and a large bottle of Vitamin C so that I could medicate myself. Needless to say, whenever I took the concotion, I felt so much better. I slept for about two weeks; then. I would walk to Publix's for more food or tea or whatever I needed. I waited until dark so that I didn't have the objection of the sun to contend with, but the cool evenings and breeze from the ocean, which is three miles away, was so delicious. As I began to feel better, I began to venture out a little more and contact friends who thought I was away on a vacation. For three weeks, I laid alone in my home sick. If I were working my work friends would have been to the house called a million times and bugged me to go to the doctor, but since I am no longer showing up every day, there is no one to notice my absences...spooky thought. So, when does one know to call 911 or it is time to secure medical attention when one is rattling around in ones own head? I have started to develop another support system to help me through these "under the weather" times.
During my imposed recluse or incluse, I started to watch movies on Netflix from my computer. I thought nothing of watching up to 3 or 4 movies a day. It has become an addiction because my day plan is to simply look at my Queue and "pick a movie"....you know like "pick a color" at the manicurist. By now, I have watched hundreds of movies.
My next dilemma is how to get out of the house. My friends have been inviting me to lunch and shopping trips, and the pastor has invited me to movie night at her house, but as soon as I get back to my cave I am mentally stuck there. I even went on Craigslist and found a gentleman who wants a companion to simply ride to Boston with him. He planned to be gone for 10 days in August. We talked for a hot minute; then, I decided that I didn't want to ride in a car for a couple of days to see museums and other attractions. I know it would have been fun, and I would have benefitted from the stimulation. However, I would have rathered taken a plane rented a car and enjoyed the Boston. I no longer care for long road trips. When I first retired, I would drive for four hours to take the grands out to lunch once a month, but it got old really fast. My grandson misses me, so I have to schedule a date in August before school starts again just to keep the peace and let every one know that I am OK.
I pulled out my Richard Simmon's "Sweatin to the Oldies" DVDs and I have started to dance with them. I cleaned off my Pilates machine so that I can stretch, and I put the Rebounder up so that I can bounce on it when I pass it. I got some really nice vitamins, and I have started to gain my strength back. I am still eating TV dinners because I don't have an inclination to cook a meal for myself. I just make sure I pile on stir fryed veggies to round out my meal. I just can't wait until I get passionate about something again. My bud's keep telling me I will find my niche. I sure hope it isn't watching so many movies and working out alone because I sure love it.
Mostly, I appreciated the fact that I could rest and really convalesce without worry about my work or commitments. As I heal, my muscle pain and shoulder has begun to feel better as well. Right now, I am really singing the praises of rest and good food and good books and well a few good movies.
An aside, as I proof my journal entry, I almost forgot that my heart is still a little heavy because my cousin (53) was shot in the chest and killed. No one wanted to tell his mother, so when my cousin's sister told her mother. She simply thanked them. After my aunt visited with the family without much consequence, she said she was tired, so she went to her bed to rest. It seems, when her great granddaughter went to check on her and she found her dead. She simply went to sleep. So, in July we had to bury a mother and son a couple of days a part. Needless to say, my heart is so heavy, for I have lost a cousin and an aunt the only solace is that they have gone home, and that they will save a place for us. We always say "I'll see you when you come home."
This is my first summer of retirement, and I thought it would be filled with grandchildren. They called it "Camp Granny." It started as soon as school was out in June, and I was to transport them home by train in August just before school. However, when my son showed up with the girls (6 and 8 yo), the plan was for him to clean and repair my windows as well as some other chores on my "Honey Do" list. For the entire of June, I had a great time cooking fun receipes and "oatmeal"--an all time favorite, and taking the girls on long walks to Greynolds Park, and thrifting at thrift stores, and they really enjoyed church. During one of my workouts, I sprained my shoulder again, so I began to slow down from the pain. I suggested to my son that he take the girls home because I didn't think I would be able to properly care for them. He said he was waiting for me to make the suggestion.
Before they left, I had started to develop a slight cough; then, it turned into a really nasty cough; then, before I knew it, I was really sick. I didn't call the doctor, but my children from Lakeland, FL, Houston, TX and Pittsburgh, PA called me almost every day to check on me. They bugged me to go to the doctor, but I kept assuring them that I was OK. I just had a bad cold.
One night I ventured out to get Alka Seltzer and a large bottle of Vitamin C so that I could medicate myself. Needless to say, whenever I took the concotion, I felt so much better. I slept for about two weeks; then. I would walk to Publix's for more food or tea or whatever I needed. I waited until dark so that I didn't have the objection of the sun to contend with, but the cool evenings and breeze from the ocean, which is three miles away, was so delicious. As I began to feel better, I began to venture out a little more and contact friends who thought I was away on a vacation. For three weeks, I laid alone in my home sick. If I were working my work friends would have been to the house called a million times and bugged me to go to the doctor, but since I am no longer showing up every day, there is no one to notice my absences...spooky thought. So, when does one know to call 911 or it is time to secure medical attention when one is rattling around in ones own head? I have started to develop another support system to help me through these "under the weather" times.
During my imposed recluse or incluse, I started to watch movies on Netflix from my computer. I thought nothing of watching up to 3 or 4 movies a day. It has become an addiction because my day plan is to simply look at my Queue and "pick a movie"....you know like "pick a color" at the manicurist. By now, I have watched hundreds of movies.
My next dilemma is how to get out of the house. My friends have been inviting me to lunch and shopping trips, and the pastor has invited me to movie night at her house, but as soon as I get back to my cave I am mentally stuck there. I even went on Craigslist and found a gentleman who wants a companion to simply ride to Boston with him. He planned to be gone for 10 days in August. We talked for a hot minute; then, I decided that I didn't want to ride in a car for a couple of days to see museums and other attractions. I know it would have been fun, and I would have benefitted from the stimulation. However, I would have rathered taken a plane rented a car and enjoyed the Boston. I no longer care for long road trips. When I first retired, I would drive for four hours to take the grands out to lunch once a month, but it got old really fast. My grandson misses me, so I have to schedule a date in August before school starts again just to keep the peace and let every one know that I am OK.
I pulled out my Richard Simmon's "Sweatin to the Oldies" DVDs and I have started to dance with them. I cleaned off my Pilates machine so that I can stretch, and I put the Rebounder up so that I can bounce on it when I pass it. I got some really nice vitamins, and I have started to gain my strength back. I am still eating TV dinners because I don't have an inclination to cook a meal for myself. I just make sure I pile on stir fryed veggies to round out my meal. I just can't wait until I get passionate about something again. My bud's keep telling me I will find my niche. I sure hope it isn't watching so many movies and working out alone because I sure love it.
Mostly, I appreciated the fact that I could rest and really convalesce without worry about my work or commitments. As I heal, my muscle pain and shoulder has begun to feel better as well. Right now, I am really singing the praises of rest and good food and good books and well a few good movies.
An aside, as I proof my journal entry, I almost forgot that my heart is still a little heavy because my cousin (53) was shot in the chest and killed. No one wanted to tell his mother, so when my cousin's sister told her mother. She simply thanked them. After my aunt visited with the family without much consequence, she said she was tired, so she went to her bed to rest. It seems, when her great granddaughter went to check on her and she found her dead. She simply went to sleep. So, in July we had to bury a mother and son a couple of days a part. Needless to say, my heart is so heavy, for I have lost a cousin and an aunt the only solace is that they have gone home, and that they will save a place for us. We always say "I'll see you when you come home."
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