Columnist returns from retirement with a vengeance - against relocating
What's on the Agenda?
"Happy New Year," I say, having recovered from the notion that I could ever retire.
It seemed like such a good idea at the time, and I was going to write volumes of words of wisdom to fulfill a promise that I have made to my progeny probably 15 times, as well as read erudite books that I had overlooked and learned to speak Spanish like a native.
In my retirement, I have accomplished none of these audible goals.
What I have done is fall, and fall with a remarkable consistency. It is now at the point where the Swedish Medical Center's ER keeps my file on the receptionist's desk and the needle threaded and on the ready. I take a tumble and speed-dial my ER doctor, and he puts me back together.
This naturally made some people very nervous, including me. So when I was offered an apartment at the Park Shore Retirement Community, maybe I ought to take it, much as I enjoyed my hermitage at the Edgewater Apartments.
However, every time I am without employment, I seem to get involved in moving and all it entails.
Half my possessions are at my daughter's and half are here, and I fear never the twine shall meet. Carefully marked boxes mysteriously lost their table of contents, and I misplaced the list of the boxes we'd made as backup.
When finally I had arrived with my lock, stock and barrels, things were either 4 inches too long or 5 inches too short for the floor plan I had envisioned.
However, I managed to find Christmas decorations, and I feel confident that I'll be organized in time for Easter or at least the Fourth of July or surely by 2006.
I have a feng shui book that tells me just how to do it. Martha Stewart has assured me it's so simple a child should be well organized by age 4.
The cover of every magazine at the checkstands in the market gives me tips on ways to bring order into my life. I read them all, and absolutely nothing changes.
Semi-read books remain piled on tables, papers - all vital to my survival - cover my desk, intermingling with letters that must be answered, bills that must be paid and several pencils, all of which will have disappeared when I need them.
I realize that most of the piles of paper could all but disappear if I'd file them.
But before I do that, I want to tidy up my files, and before I can do that, I should get some new file folders. And I have several chores before I go out.
All the articles I read say it's mind over matter, but it's clear that in my case, matter wins.
Trying to find a note on the desk, I came upon a birth announcement. My first great-grandchild had arrived in Los Angeles in April.
I was thrilled for her mother and father, but I wasn't sure that I was ready to be a great-grandmother. The title made me feel 10 years older than Methuselah.
But when I realized that the baby made my daughter a grandmother, I went into deep shock. Imagine, my baby girl is a grandmother!
I mentioned my new status almost sheepishly to various people, and they looked surprised. I waited for the "Why, you couldn't be a great grandmother."
Instead, I heard, "Your first?"
I don't recall any great-grandmothers in my life or in my friends' lives. We thought grandmothers were unbelievably old then. They were supposed to make cookies and knit.
We were amazed when they liked a song on the Hit Parade or even drove a car.
Grandmothers haven't changed that much; it's just that we've finally found that there's a real human being behind the title, and my daughter is one of them.
But great-grandmothers?
I thought about the great-grandmothers I'd talked to. If they're examples of great-grandmothers in 2005, step aside grandmothers - we're coming through.
Roberta Cole can be reached via e-mail at mptimes@nwlink.com. [[In-content Ad]]
