last year, it was the beginning of an adjustment period for her that worried all of us. She moved from a large two-story house on top of a hill near Hot Springs to a small townhome about five minutes from my house.
We talked about getting her involved in the senior community in Pearland, which is well-served by the Knapp Senior Center. I know this because I’ve been there with her, not just as her son, but as a qualifying senior citizen myself. We have been to a few of the Wednesday morning bingo games, which are well-attended and only a little cliquey.
But she doesn’t want to go by herself, and I’m not ready yet to hang out with people in their seventies and eighties, so that hasn’t worked out, probably for the best since I don’t want my mother doing a lot of driving any more.
We hoped there would be more engagement with the people in her gated townhouse community, but that has been slow going, and will likely be even slower as the weather gets hotter and her neighbors start staying inside more.
I thought it would be cool if she volunteered to work as a crossing guard for the elementary school near her home, but I am becoming more sensitive to her frailties, and I am not sure she would do well crossing the street thirty or forty times a morning with the boisterous children.
When I have discussed this with her, she has assured me that it was not a problem.
“I’m really not interested in making new friends,” she said. “I have you and your brother and your families and that’s enough for me.”
I kind of understand. New friendships arise organically from shared experiences and events, but when you are 88 and independent, the opportunities to connect with people are rarer and there is less time to invest in developing potential relationships. Better to stick with the known quantities.
And that’s okay with me. My brother and I have tried to be involved in her life: he takes her to church, his wife helps my
mother with her various doctor appointments, my wife and I have her over regularly for dinner, and I look for opportunities to get her out of the house.
About a month ago, I took her out to lunch and then instead of driving her home, I stopped by a music school to see if they had lessons available for her. They could not have been nicer, which eased my mother’s concerns, and we signed up to take a weekly one-hour class together.
It has been great fun. My mother got a new guitar - a scaled-down Taylor acoustic in mahogany - and the teacher has been pleasant and supportive. In turn, my mother has been diligently practicing and is now up to eight open chords, as well as two strumming patterns including the boom-chucka-chucka. I have been improving too, picking up some new techniques and music theory.
After the lesson, we go do something fun. Today, we went to the garden center for flowers for her patio garden, and then got a smoothie.
“I really enjoy our lessons,” she told me today when I dropped her off.
Me too.
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Breakfast today was an English muffin with turkey sausage, and a bowl of cereal. Lunch was a steak sandwich and plantains from yesterday supper.
I worked out at the gym too. Today was hamstrings and chest, which were challenged by schlepping about 200 pounds on a hexagon bar back and forth in a farmers carry, and by hanging by my hands from a pull-up bar.
The latter exercise is notable because it is the ultimate reality check - you begin by thinking this is no big deal, because you are the same monkey boy who swung effortlessly in the playground. But you are not. Instead, you are an old man carrying sandbags on your frame, trying to hang on for dear life with soft hands not accustomed to heavy lifting. No bueno.
After I got home from guitar, I skimmed about three tons of tree pollen from our pool, and then got a call from my trainer.
“You said I’m old school in your blog,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” I said, dreading what was coming next.
“What are you doing now?” he asked. (Another anxiety-provoking question.)
“Sitting,” I said.
“Well, get up and meet me at Berry Miller. We can walk three miles.”
I was too tired to argue with him, so I agreed to go. As two of his daughters worked out on the middle school track, he and I walked three miles while he pushed a carriage with his third daughter. His wife came by after a while with their new dog and joined us on the walk. He really has a lovely family and they are raising their kids right.
After we were done, I limped to the car and drove home. I’ve earned the right to sit on the couch now.
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