Back on the Bench in Old Peopleville

Jean returned to her favorite lakeside bench this week, armed with a notebook, a healing foot, and good intentions. Along the way she found swans, a suspiciously friendly chipmunk, proof that autumn has arrived, and another reminder that organizing people is far more complicated than stacking Mahjong tiles. What began as a search for inspiration turned into a meditation on recovery, community, and the surprising amount of material available for yet another episode from Old Peopleville…. AI

It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood, to steal a line from the theme song written by Fred Rogers for his TV show, which needs no introduction among my demographic of readers. The sun was shining. The temperature was in the high 60s, and the distant landscape was filled with soft corals, bright reds, oranges, and lemon yellow, dotted here and there with the dark greens of conifers.

I was sitting down by our lake, watching a single swan on the still surface as it dined on weeds pulled from the bottom of the shallow water along the shore. I don't know where the six other swans were that made up the bevy the last time I sat on the same bench. That was back in the first week of September when I started going to the Wound Center and was told to cut back on my walking because of the open wounds at the base of my toes.

This past Tuesday I got some good news on that front. They scheduled me for two weeks out, instead of one, and said they think my toe woes will be healed by then. They also gave me the green light to start walking again, which was helping with my stalled mission to lose weight. I hope I can get a few weeks of outdoor walking in before the temperatures dip. I'm always cold, even in the summer, but fellow residents who walk the halls here in our Independent Living facility say I can rack up 7,000 steps if I include the underground parking level. As boring as that sounds, I'll be doing it.

As I sat by the lake writing in my notebook, I heard a rustling in the dried leaves at my feet. When I looked down, a chipmunk had one paw on my shoe and was looking right at me.

We both froze.

The spell was broken when I said, "Hi, Chippy," a nickname my mom used for these little guys who came to her ground feeder. My voice had the chipmunk hightailing it to the nearby cattails. I was glad he ran that way instead of up my leg, which at first I thought he was poised to do... or maybe he could smell the therapeutic honey on the wound dressing on my toes and was about to chew his way through my shoe. My second thought was that someone else must sit on that bench and feed those little guys. Why else would he get so close?

What was I writing when the chippy interrupted me?

I was looking for inspiration for this blog post, but all I could come up with was how busy my week had been, a sharp contrast to the tranquil view in front of me. One reason it was a busy week is that the facility threw a huge and lavish party for us to celebrate its fifth anniversary. The bar was open and free, and a lot of residents took full advantage of that. Not me. Nor did I indulge in the large chocolate bars made in the shape of letters that spelled out the name of the place. And I'm proud to say I didn't even look at the desserts. I stuck to the veggie station, the cheese station, and the kebabs.

The usual suspects got up and made speeches that had them choking back tears. All of them mentioned what a lovely family we've created here. We also had a Frank Sinatra impersonator for entertainment. It was fun watching everyone in their fancy clothes. A few people got a little tipsy and sang along with Fake Frank.

But the main thing that kept me busy this week was the Mahjong Mixer I've been planning for next week between our campus and our sister campus across town. We've got twenty-three players signed up, five of them from the Newbie class I've been teaching for the past month and a half.

This will be our third joint Mahjong event, and it was my brainchild from the very beginning. But this is the first year I've allowed others to help. I would have preferred to do it alone again, but I'm not going to live forever, and the best chance of having the event continue after I'm gone is not being the only one who knows what to do and when to do it. So I formed a committee of four, outlined the tasks that needed doing, and let them take their pick.

I could have done everything easier and faster by myself than by holding meetings and checking back to track progress. For example, one woman who was tasked with buying part of the prizes bought items and then changed her mind several times. She'd ask my opinion about what she'd purchased and I'd try to be positive, saying, "If you like it, so will others." But one prize was a potted plant that might be awkward if the winner has to take it home on the campus bus. I didn't tell her that. Another prize was a tea towel, which I dearly hope doesn't end up going to one of the guys.

The last time I took this walk down by the lake it was very much still summer. In addition to the color in the distant landscape, now the walnuts have fallen from the trees, as have the pine cones, The cattails have busted out their brown cases and are balls of fluff and squirrels were busy burying their winter dinners. The Canada geese are gone off the lake and walking trail. I missed seeing their swaddling butts in front of me as they try to get out of my way. It always makes me feel like I am herding stock. "Git along, little dogies! Whoopie Ti Yi Yo." Can you tell I grew up watching Spaghetti westerns?

And sadly all the stone carins I built on a large boulder were gone. Here I thought I was one of several people who maintained them after the wind, the pull of gravity, or little boys knocked them over. I built two more and am anxious to see whether anyone adds to them before the next time I walk what I call the lake route.

At the end of my walk, I sat on the bench by the water long enough with my notebook that the whole swan family of seven appeared from who knows where they were hiding which was my clue to get back to my apartment while I could still read my own handwriting to feed this blog post to my computer. 

Come back next Wednesday for another fill-in-the-blank episode from Old Peopleville. ©