I’m going to get a manicure today. I wonder if I’ll tear it to shreds trying to open something when I get home. Maybe it will be something as simple as a tear-back can of soup. I can never do it in one fell swoop. I always have to find something to pry up the round thing on top and then pull as hard as I can, and maybe get it open enough that the soup will fall out.
Losing your keys is always frustrating: it’s worse for an older person. It’s another humiliation, another chink in the carefully constructed armor of creating a life where you try to put everything in the same place when you come home, write post-it notes all over the house and choose easy-to-recall passwords only to be told you have to change them - add a capital or a number or some other memory-confounding combination.
I saw a play last weekend called Assisted Living. It got me to thinking. We spend so much on the so-called quality of life - or dying - for sick, older people. Be it live-in help, assisted living, supported living, nursing homes, hospice, whatever, it’s all there, and it costs plenty, no matter who’s paying.
Hang on kids, because the metaphors, similes, half-quotes and cries of desperation are going to fly. I am in an extended state of anxiety, and it's all because of Steve Jobs, who shall henceforth be referred to as Stevistopheles.
Not only am I growing old, but my name is being phased out. I wonder if other people whose names also begin with O followed by an apostrophe, as in O'Grady, are having my experience with their surnames.
Early this summer, I said goodbye to my beloved 1999 Olds Intrigue, dark green, beige leather interior. It even had Cadillac padding in the front seat — one of my bargaining chips when I bought it at the late Foley-Rice dealership.
Ilene Beckerman's book Love, Loss and What I Wore — now a play by Nora and Delia Ephron — was first published in 1995. I gave it to several of my friends as gifts. It's a playful, poignant book about important events in women's lives, happy or sad, and how we can picture what we were wearing at the time. I invite you to share your memorable outings and outfits.