Meet The Arch Mother & The Brick

When I first started thinking about the connection between raising mindful children and the work I do with aging adults, I did what I normally do, I called my mother.

My mother is a lot of things, a wife, a retired politician, a fundraiser, a church goer, a true community organizer (but she'd hate that term). But a woman who minces words, she is most definitely, not.  A priest and friend of the family once coined the name The Arch Mother, and it's stuck.

My parents have been married for nearly 58 years.  They have one of those rare golden marriages built on shared responsibility, true love, hard work and a healthy sense of humor.  They rarely fight, they love being together and they love to have fun. My husband and I have worked hard to model our own relationship after theirs - give us another 46 years and we'll see how we hold up.

When I called, at first we were talking about my dad (The Brick) who is still playing tennis a few days a week, will golf until his cart can't get through the snow, sits on a few boards, and still seems to find time for an endless amount of projects around the house.

For as loud and engaging as my mother can be, my father is an endless peacemaker.  My mother is the great love of his life and everything else is just gravy. The long running family joke is when my mother dreams up a new project, party or adventure, someone yells "You're a brick!" to my dad. It never gets old.

He is having some trouble with one of his eyes and that's made my parents have to reconsider their driving situations. He's not been told to stay off the roads yet, but anytime you worry about your vision you have to ask yourself some questions.

So I mentioned to my mom that I'd like her to write with me about this experience of having to face life changes that aren't so delightful. At which point she said maybe in a few years, but right now she wasn't interested and didn't have time. Then she went on to talk about her experience with entertaining now, how health problems and retirement have seemed to change and limit so many of their friends. 

"I just want to say 'No one cares about your pacemaker!'"

followed only a few minutes later by:

"I just wish everyone would stop acting so old!"

I repeated these words to her and said - don't you think you have a unique perspective to offer about how to age gracefully? She relented (for now).

Her continual anthem to all of her kids is to keep making younger and new friends because eventually everyone gets old - some people seemingly faster than others. Not everyone has aged as well as my parents and there is often a frustration in my mother's voice when she comes back from a party and all anyone wants to talk about is their health and who's dead.

Well, one thing is for sure, my mom is not dead.  She's feisty and energetic. She's not interested in talking about the end of life while she's in the thick of living it. She says that the secret is wanting to have fun, be open to new things, new people. There is a little bit of the army general in her (sometimes more than a bit) - her life screams "Advance! Advance! Advance!

I admire this, this willfulness, if you will, to be positive, to be respectful of our her abilities. And yet she is pragmatic and not naive. She knows the reality of their situation - but there is no need to dwell when there is so much more life to be living.

And, yes, there is, so much more life to be living.