Figuring out Our Purpose in Life

Recently I was googling the phrase ‘wise words about life’ looking for a topic to write about that didn’t involve telling tales about my fellow residents here at the continuum care complex. I’ve never been a gossip in my off-line life and I’m not sure I like this new me that has emerged since moving here. I could tell myself I’m just doing my weak imitation of John Steinbeck or Mark Twain or other writers who are known for drawing memorable characters with their words. The difference is---aside from their superior talent---that I’m not just passing through this place. If someone should find my descriptions of them they could get their feelings hurt and I could get ostracized out of the cool kid’s club, so to speak. 

I thought I’d hit on a topic I could get into when I found the following quote supposedly said by Mark Twain: “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” Since it’s long been my worry that I’d die without figuring out why I was born or what I’ve contributed to the advancement of civilized society that quote spoke to me. But it only took one more google search to find out the phrase wasn’t Twain’s at all. It’s what a website called The Center for Mark Twain Studies calls an Apocryphal Twain quote. I guess there are a lot of them. If you want to know if Twain said this or that, just ask at this website and they’ll do a forensic search and figure it out. In this case, the phrase, “The two most important days in your life...” was first mis-attributed in 2011 when a stand-up comedian and radio personality, Steve Harvey, sent it out in a tweet.

Apparently a lot life coaches and people in cottage industries who make those cute little signs, memes, coffee cups, refrigerator magnets, and message pillows and other for-profit enterprises love to slap Twain quotes on their goods and they do so without first making sure they are attributing them to the right author. The Center for Mark Twain Studies says as a general rule: “If the aphorism in question indicates a sentimental, nostalgic, or otherwise optimistic attitude towards humanity, it probably didn’t come from Twain. As Louis Budd put is, Twain indulged a ‘lifelong suspicion that the mass of mankind is venal, doltish, feckless, and tyrannical, that the damn fools make up a majority anywhere.'”

So I found the meme with the mis-attributed quote on it first---and trust me they are all over the internet---and I got excited about using it for the kind of theme post I occasionally wrote back in my caregiver days that I called (tongue-in-cheek) my Sunday Sermon Series. But the internet being what the internet is I just had to cross-check the source of the quote which blew the topic off my writing table. Boo-hoo! Or did it? No matter who said that about the two most important days of our lives the message is still just as valid. Is it not? I had that revelation while watching a montage of Olympic athletics at the winter games. At some point in their early lives they must have had that Ah, Ha Moment that I’ve never experienced in my almost eighty years---that moment that told them, “This is my passion and gift to the world.” (I’ll bet I just broke The Word Olympic record for using nine ‘thats’ in this short paragraph. Using too many of that word has always been a writing tic I can’t seem to break. If I wasn’t in a lazy mood I’d go back and edit a few of them out.)

What does it feel like to have that Ah, Ha Moment? And maybe my search for the answer is why I’ve always loved movies and books about sports figures at the same time, hating to watch or follow sports. That dichotomy never made sense to me. What comes first? Being good at something and then dedicating your life to it or dedicating your life to something and then becoming good at it? In some cases like Tiger Woods, for example, parents push and bully a kid at a very early age in a direction they may or may not have gone if the choice had been entirely their own. 

When my dad was under Hospice care in the last seven months of his life I read every Tiger Woods article and book I could get my hands on to my dad. That was before his fall from grace and my dad was so proud of that guy for essentially being the Jackie Robinson of the golf world. Since my dad passed I kept on reading books by and about Tiger. While fame gave him a place in sports history it also robbed him on the other end of the human existence. From all indications he’s finally made peace with himself and is living his best life and it all gets down to the second half of Twain’s mis-quote of knowing why we’re all here. The important take-away in Tiger's story? We have to find that purpose on our own, no matter how much we’ve been pushed or pulled in one direction or another we have to know the goals we set are our own. And once we know that, we'll find our purpose whether we ultimately make it to the top of the mountain or we just enjoy the journey through the foothills of life. ©

Lunch with Auntie Mame

 

I’ve written before about a woman who usually wears velvet pantsuits who lives here at the continuum care complex and who I’ve dubbed Auntie Mame because she’s loud, funny, out-going and friendly. But the thing I find especially fun about her is that she’s got this running joke going about how she wants to start a Scandals & Gossip Newspaper here on campus and shove them under our doors at night. Little does she (or anyone else know) that I write a version of that scandals and gossip rag and I shove it out into cyberspace.

She’s been pet sitting at her son’s house and hasn’t been on campus for almost a month so when she showed up at lunch recently I knew I’d be sitting in the cafe` longer than usual. This particular day she was on a role giving beauty tips for how to put on eyeliner and how to lose magnetic eyelashes. She also said she doesn’t make plans for anything past six months because---well, because she’s 86. That’s when I found out that I’m one of the youngest people in our merry band of misfits. Everyone around the table was over the 80 mile marker and I’m just barely under it. 

Things I did not know before Lunch: That elderly women can sit around talking about how and where to get the best eyebrow tattoos and microblading in town. I don’t really want them but I was surprised that at least four women here have them. I’d be afraid that I’d get a color or shape that I didn’t like or that a tattoo artist would give me what she or he thinks is stylish and not what I’d necessarily think is the cat’s mew. How many times have we explained how we wanted our hair cut only to walk out of a salon with a head of hair that looking entirely different? Tattoos and microbladng are permanent including the infections you can get from all those little cuts that are made with microblading. Look at me, using a word I didn’t even knew existed until our lunch conversation which, by the way, came with a lot of laughter. 

The oldest lady at the table has been dubbed The Queen Bee by others but not by me. Named so because she is often be found sitting in a large wing-backed chair in front of the fireplace holding court. She has tattooed eyebrows and is going in to get them done again because, she says, they've faded over the years. Eyebrow pencil and eyebrow paint are the only cosmetic additions to my face that I won't leave my apartment without. Even though I hate having one brown eyebrow and one gray one I wouldn’t in a hundred years get them tattooed to match. Tried getting them dyed to match once but the technician got dye in my eye and I thought I’d die. Never again.

At that lunch we covered hair dying and magnetic eye lashes and we learned how to make little dots along your eye lid when applying eyeliner. If I ever used eyeliner in the past it was for about a minute and a half. I could never get that stuff on back when I had a steady hand and now with wrinkles around my eyes I can only imagine how I’d look if I tried it now. No wonder some of these women get up at six o`clock if they feel compelled to do a full face of make up before leaving their apartments. I could sure used some foundation to cover up all the blemishes I’ve picked up since masks have come into required fashion. I have worse skin now than I did when I was a teen with a face full of acne. I had even planned to start wearing some make up after I got my cataracts removed when I thought I’ve be able to trust the colors I’m seeing. But so far I haven’t bothered. I have mastered putting earrings on, though. Wearing studs every day has improved my finger dexterity. I still pull the stoppers on the sinks before I mess with my earrings though, so they don’t accidentally end up down the drain.

I might not have a face full of make up that looks like I’m airbrushed to perfection like a few ladies here but I found out I have one thing others admire. I have thick, naturally wavy hair that still needs thinning when I get it cut and it requires nothing more than a wash job twice a week. I guess paying $57 plus aincludin tip to get it cut every four weeks is worth it. Several of the ladies here use the onsite hairdresser who comes to your apartment. She does a fabulous job but I’m not ready for that yet. The first time I have to pee at the salon where I go might make me reconsider that choice though. They have a toilet that I swear was made for midgets. I don’t think I could get back up if I ever sat on it. I took one look at it and made a beeline home instead. Getting old comes with all kinds of perils like that and few pluses unless you count three hour lunches that are often better than going to a comedy club.

Well, I’ve got to go get cleaned up for lunch. Today is fire drill day and if I have to put up with listening to them testing those bells all over the campus I might was well be where I can watch the firemen and women walking back and forth through the lobby. It’s the only time when I’m glad I don’t have a dog anymore. Robbie’s mom takes him on long walks when they test or she drops him off at the groomers when we know a drill is on the schedule. ©

Hissy-Fits Do Work and the Power of Leg Warmers

After the third canceled appointment by the flooring company who needed to clean up a bunch of construction glue in my apartment, I decided I needed to take a page out of my neighbor’s book and have a hissy-fit at the main office. Only instead of me going to the CEO’s office and doing it in person I sent an email because, let’s face it, I write better than I talk on my feet. It said: “I'm getting impatient about getting my floor issue resolved. I was promised back when I made my final payment in September than the construction gunk would be off before I moved in October 5th. (It goes from one wall to another and wouldn't come off with Brad's power cleaner. It was better but still a mess.) I'd like to start inviting some friends over but the minute I do is when the floor company will want to me dissemble my living area so they can do whatever needs to be done….” and so on. I didn’t say that I knew from the maintenance man that the floor company got pulled off from looking at my floor and coming up with a plan because the CEO prioritized getting new flooring down in a couple of empty condos over my floor clean up project.

Two days later the maintenance man tracked me down while I was making loom hats with the charity crafters and the floor company wanted to come in two hours to clean it. “No way can I be ready in two hours!” I said. “I have to unload a book case, my painting supply chest and my media cabinet full of photograph albums, then move everything out of the living room and roll the area rug back.” “I could help you,” he replied. “I’d rather pack that stuff up myself,” I answered. He flashed me a wide smile and said, “I told them that’s what you’d say. How about tomorrow?” “That works for me.” So I held my breath while he went back to the CEO’s office to firm up that appointment, hoping it wouldn’t get put off again. It didn’t.

The flooring company sent out a giant, line backer type black guy with rag, a pot scrubber and a gallon of stuff that smelled like oranges. And he got down on his hands and knees and cleaned from wall to wall, the entire 15" x 20" living room. The glue came up but the cleaner left a residue. Then the guy gave me his personal cell number and said if the maintenance people here couldn’t come mop it the next day that he’d come back on his own time and do it for me so I didn’t have to have my apartment torn apart over the weekend. But I lucked out and the “Environmental Specialist” aka house cleaner guy came within an hour of me dumping my problem on the concierge's desk. The fast service probably had everything to do with my floor getting prioritized after my modified hissy-fit. Mr. Eye Candy Cleaner, by the way, says he likes working here because “I feel the love. I’ve never had that at a job before.” Nothing keeps a bunch of old ladies happy better than guy who wears tight shirts over a well toned body. Just sayin' but I'm glad I didn't say that to him, oh my! At least the filter in my brain is still working.

While all this was going on, I got a call from The Cheerleader who was sitting across the table from me while we were making loom hats for charity. She’s been asked to quarantine for five days, even thought she tested negative. She’d been exposed briefly to someone who has a full blown case of covid-19. Both of us wore our masks while we were making hats and we'd both been fully vaccinated and had our booster shots but this new variation is so contagious! I guess if the CDC thought the people The Cheerleader sat with the next day were in any danger they would have called me directly...still might if she develops symptoms. She just wanted me to know what was going on because rumors fly and she feels, and I agree, that it shouldn’t be a secret who gets quarantined and why.

New topic: It’s 15 degrees here in Michigan right now and I’m freezing my tush off. Actually, that’s not true. My butt rarely gets cold but my fingers, legs, toes, ears and face sure do. I wear silk long underwear and fingerless gloves in the house. I also wear leg warmers 24/7 and I have a habit of not remembering to take them off when I hop in the shower. Removing soaking wet leg warmers is not easy and it’s a good thing I have four pair because those suckers take a long time to dry. 

I thought when I moved to this place I wouldn’t struggle to stay warm in the winters like I did in my old house with all the windows. Sandwiched in between to two other apartments I thought there’d be no heat loss here but I didn’t count on this place having the heat registers at ceiling height. Didn’t science established centuries ago that heat rises? Who decided in a cold climate like Michigan that it was a good idea to put the heat sources up high? Bean counters, that’s who! If I was smart I’d keep one of those hats made for charity and wear it in the house, too, but a google search on how much body heat I’d save if I did that debunked what our mothers told us growing up. We don’t lose half our body heat through our heads. 

We must forgive our moms for spreading that falsehood, though, because they got it from an old Army field manual. I can, however, testify in a court if necessary that wearing leg warmers to bed is far superior to wearing socks. Socks tend to come off during the night or start pinching my toes or twist around enough that they wake me up. The short, 8” style leg warmers don’t. (The longer ones I wear if I'm going to be outside.) The only negative is you’d have to take a time machine back to the ‘80s to buy the shorties. Flashdance, Foot Loose and Jane Fonda had most of us all wearing leg warmers back then. Now, only the cool kids do and old ladies who never stopped wearing them. ©