About Getting Older

Today is my birthday. The cat's incessant meowing got me up early. I found a dozen or more cheerful greetings on Facebook, and I read two articles I had set aside.

"5 great things about getting older" (June 2011 Real Simple, 71). Experts ranging from ages 55 to 89 share their findings.

1. You'll be happier.
"...research has shown that as we age we become more emotionally stable and content." The big life questions have already been dealt with, so you can relax.

2. Wise decisions will come more easily.
"Scientists used to think that we lose a significant number of our brain cells as we age, but more sophisticated scans have debunked that theory." And "older brains can swiftly make the right calls." The good news is that "we hit our cognitive peak between the ages of 40-68." The bad news is I only have one peak-year left!

3. The fashion police will be off your back.
You no longer need to wear high heels! "...one of the greatest contributors to longevity is moving--fast on flat feet."
But, do I really want to live that long? Maybe I'll go back to wearing heels, especially considering my shrinking status.

4. You'll know who you are.
Betty Reid Soskin, 89, full-time park ranger says, "Before I was 75, I was tentative about many things. But now I know my own voice, and most important, I have the confidence to use it. Today I'm blogging and giving speeches and participating in all sorts of activities that, honestly, I would have been incapable of in my 60's."
Hey, longevity may not be so bad, there's a lot more to come!

5. You'll have time on your hands.
"If you've been driving yourself for years--working, raising a family, or both..." (yes, both!) "...it's an adjustment..."
True, however, I find myself more focused and driven now to do the things I have put off for so long. And as the previous expert says, "A sense of urgency comes with aging."

"Aging" written by a local professor, Bill Ringenberg, from his book Letters to Young Scholars, a few quotes:

"The senior period is a time for self-development as much and in some ways more than the earlier periods. Perhaps physical decline is designed to spur deepened spiritual and psychological growth at the end of life. Ideally, age should produce wisdom, increased poise, humble self-confidence, a more realistic self appraisal, and a reduced level of anxiety."

Recognizing that the aging process is different for everyone, there are principles that characterize the most all-around-fruitful experiences, says Dr. Ringenberg.

1. Accept the inevitable but retain control over the controllable.
2. Use the increased discretionary time to meditate deeply on the meaning of life and death. More important than what one does in the senior years is what one is becoming.
3. Change the mental focus away from work to leisure. Away from getting to giving, and away from controlling to counseling...Indeed the development of interpersonal relationships with people of all types is one of the most essential activities for seniors.

# 3 resonates with me on several levels.
--Recently I allowed myself a leisure-type additional activity--an oil painting class. I say it is only for the duration of this birthday month, but we'll see what happens.
--One focus of my retirement years is to get rid of stuff! I so do NOT want to leave the mess to my children to sort through.
--Another aspect I very much want to cultivate at this time is cheerful, generous giving. A need came to my attention in the last couple weeks from a friend in Uruguay, and I can't think of a better way to spend birthday monies. These are excerpts from his letter, my translation:

Uruguay is not a poor country, but rather a rich nation with poverty of spirit...


I have recently taken on a new challenge to meet urgent needs of people, not necessarily their material needs, but to enrich their souls and for their eternal future. Thanks to the Rotary Club...I managed to have them give me a space in their building for computer classes for senior citizens who not only want to use this means of communication, but also need to be with others, to get out of their lethargy, their routine. As one of them said to me recently, "As soon as the sun rises I am waiting for it to set so I can go back to bed."
I believe it is our obligation to attend to all that is at hand, and this has come to me not because I was looking for it, but because God Himself placed it before me.
 I have only the meeting place in the building, four old computers with a memory of 384 kb, when the minimum ought to be 1M; some chairs that are somewhat unsafe for the elderly; no heater; not even a corner to make coffee or tea and serve cookies.
I am doing this because God has asked me to and because I want to, and if I want to and God wants it, then nothing can stop us. But truthfully we need gas, internet, other computers, some chairs, a rug, and even money for transportation to the place.
Every Wednesday, probably Fridays, and most likely we will add days as there is great need of affection, love, comfort, peace, and all that the Lord can give and will give. To reach them through information services is only the first step to a dialogue about their needs. Already in two classes, one person opened her heart and shared her desperation.

 
Dr. Ringenberg's article admits, mostly for our country, that in spite of uncertain current economic realities, "the status of the senior population is better economically than it is socially and psychologically," the author offers ways to increase the quality of life for the aging.

1. Work intentionally to develop a general milieu which increasingly respects and appreciates seniors. Condescension toward and contempt for the old is a major problem in western culture.
2. Develop systems that naturally incorporate the skills of seniors with societal needs.
3. Organize educational systems that provide continued physical and mental stimulation.

I especially appreciate #1. I will start by posting the most recent photo of myself, unflattering though it may be.
In a society where youth is idolized, maybe it is time to say "Old is beautiful!"

Flashback Friday: High School Graduation

Once again Mocha With Linda has outdone herself thinking up prompts to jog our memories and bring out all kinds of interesting things from those days long forgotten. Here is prompt # 10. After reading my responses, go to her blog and be entertained by the other anecdotes from bygone days.

Tell about your senior year in high school. Were there any special traditions such as getting a senior ring? Were there lots of activities and parties as you neared graduation? Were you in any extra-curricular activities that had traditional "rites of passage" or "passing the baton" too the next class? Were awards given out - either serious or fun? Did you send out graduation announcements? Did your school have a Baccalaureate Service in addition to the graduation ceremony? If you attended church, did your church recognize/honor Seniors in any way? Did you keep your tassel - did you hang it from the mirror of your car or do something else special with it? What sorts of things did you get for graduation gifts? Was it a tradition to display the gifts in your home?

 And once again, my answers are different from everyone else's, like as far removed Argentina is from the USA.

This is my senior class photo, the only one, no individual pictures nor fancy artistic poses and all sizes of prints to hand out or hang on the wall. Can you find me?

No need to tell you we wore uniforms. They were every mother's nightmare--pleated, white, starched, ironed, buttoned-in-the-back and tied at the waist guardapolvos (=to protect from dust).
You might wonder why there were only two boys in my class. It was a Normal school, i.e.to train elementary teachers. The boy/girl ratio is probably not very different here in El Ed programs.
One more note of interest. There were three sections of 5th year and each group stayed together all the time in the same classroom, no moving around. The teachers came to us.
I look at the faces, some names have faded from my memory. I wonder where some of them are and what they are doing??? No high school reunions for me.

Here is the only photo of the simple graduation ceremony from the Escuela Normal Mixta de Quilmes Almirante Guillermo Brown, November of 1963. I pinned a flower on my father's lapel and he pinned our class emblem on my uniform. That is all I recall, folks. There were no diplomas, tassels, awards, open-houses, church recognition, gifts, cards, parties. At least, that I can remember.

Now I'm going to go link up and see if anyone can top that odd tale!

The Day I Was Born

-->

May 18, 1944

The day I was born the world was at war yet love was in the air. Bing Crosby’s “I Love You” at the top of the music charts. And so it has been throughout my life, no matter where or what, I have felt loved.

I was born at 6:45 on a Thursday evening in Warsaw, Indiana, in The McDonald Hospital owned by Dr. J. R. Baum. The total cost for delivery and five day stay was $57.50.

Grandma Hirschy wrote in her diary on May 19^th: “…got a telegram from Sam this morning stating Rita Dorene arrived last night, 7 lbs.” Grandma then traveled from Pennsylvania a few days later to help when Mother got out of the hospital. An entry in her five-year diary records, “Sam carried Kathryn out to the car and into their new home. I held the baby.” Was that so he wouldn’t have to hold me, perhaps? Mother claims now that Dad was afraid of holding the baby.

Later in a letter addressed to my grandfather--“My dear companion,” Grandma wrote, “Kathryn got up to eat dinner with us in the kitchen this noon but got feeling fainty so Sam carried her back to bed and she ate there…”

I would never have known about Mother’s initial frailty had not Grandmother Hirschy kept such good records, and had these letters and diaries not been carefully archived by thoughtful family members. I remember Mother’s later pregnancies when she was strong and healthy and worked very hard almost till the last minute. To this day she never admits to a moment of weakness.

Grandpa Hirschy wrote in the family letter, carbon-copied and mailed to the six children scattered abroad, “Mother got home from Huntington a week ago today. She says the baby is a Hoyt, she has dark hair and is a very intelligent child, already understands when you talk to her. Hoyt and Hirschy must make a wonderful combination!!!!!”  (Yes, there were that many exclamation marks.) This quote makes me smile every time I read it and also makes me feel welcomed into a very loving family.

I am so grateful for another ‘birth’ in 1944. Scientists at Harvard University with some funding from IBM constructed the first automatic, general-purpose computer. The advances in technology make this task of writing my stories a thousand times easier than the labor-intensive communication my grandparents maintained with their children overseas. What a work of love that was!

Though my entry into the world was a happy one, there was great turmoil at the time; the world was in the throes of a terrible war. The now famous young diarist, Anne Frank, and her family were discovered while in hiding and died along with millions of Jews in Nazi concentration camps.

My own uncle, Mother’s younger brother Phil, was wounded in the war in Europe and went missing in action for weeks. Those were terrifying times. There was a shortage of manpower; women went to work and Rosie the Riveter, the ubiquitous poster woman of the day, transformed the image of femininity forever. Major annual events were canceled. The Indianapolis 500 was not held that year nor the U.S. Open Golf Tournament.

Those were very busy times for Dad and Mother. They were both studying in Grace Seminary at the time of my arrival. Dad, very tan from working on the railroad, was also pastoring a small church in Huntington, Indiana. Mother had a part time cleaning job. For most people, life moved on even while World War II was wrapping up. For me life was just beginning.

First photo:
Rita Dorene, 4 weeks old

Flashback Fridays: Funeral Memories

Prompt # 7 from Mocha With Linda:

How old were you (approximately) when you attended your first funeral? Did your parents shield you from death and grief or was it viewed as a natural part of life? Did you experience any significant loss(es) in your growing up years? What were your early impressions of death and dying? And while I do not intend this in any irreverent way, are there any amusing memories associated with a death or funeral? If you have kids, how have you handled this subject with them? Feel free to share as vulnerably or as shallowly as you want!

 I have no recollection of  funerals during my childhood. So I consulted my brother who has a very good memory. He mentioned three deaths that left an impression on him, but none involved our participation in any way.

When my maternal grandfather died we were ending our five-year term in Argentina. In those days international travel was not as common an occurrence as it is today, so Mother did not even consider possible to attend his funeral. Grandma Hirschy passed some 21 years later. I was married and had three children. Almost all of her offspring were present. The family by then numbered 100. That was my first funeral experience, a memorable event.

The one death that stands out in my childhood memories was that of Eva Perón. I had attended public school where large portraits of the dictator and his wife were everywhere and homage was regularly enforced. When Evita died we were out of the country, on our return voyage after a one-year furlough in the US.
I recently came across a letter where Mother describes the experience I remember most.

July 31st, 1952

"We anchored in the Río de la Plata about 7 a.m. and were unable to get a dock until about 3 p.m. Because of the mourning for the first lady ships evidently had lined up in the channel waiting to unload etc. For 3 or 4 days no one had worked at the docks so you can imagine what kind of a mess it is down there with baggage everywhere. Just before we got off the boat we had to stand still for 15 min. doing homage to the deceased. Like some man behind us said, you can make us shut up, but can't make us do homage to her."

Her popularity and fame were unequaled among first ladies and her mausoleum in La Recoleta is probably the most visited tomb in South America.

 

-->

Flashback Friday: Piano Lessons

Prompt # 6 from Mocha with Linda:

If you have a child in your life, your calendar for April and May is probably quickly filling up with end-of-year activities - performances, recitals, etc. Did you take lessons as a child? Piano or another instrument? Gymnastics or dance? Other types of lessons? Were they weekly? How much were you required to practice between lessons? Did you participate in recitals? If so, do any of them stand out in your memory? Did they foster a love or a hate for that activity? Did you want to take lessons in a certain thing that you never got to? And if you have kids now, how did your experiences with taking lessons like these impact the activities you had/have them do?

Yes, I took piano lessons as a child and teenager. The profesora lived around the corner and her name was Sra. Amelia (?) Villani de Jones. (Now I'm curious about the Jones surname in Argentina, and I wonder if she is still alive???)
I think my lessons were an hour a week. I never felt that I practiced enough (the perfectionist in me). However, recently reading some family letters from my grandparents archives, I came across a mention in my parents letter to them to the effect that I was quite faithful! In any case, I passed all ten annual exams and I believe ended up with the title of "Profesora de piano".
We did not have recitals as we know them here, but these exams were daunting events. We prepared and memorized several pieces for months. In December, after school was out, on our assigned day we went to the conservatory, el Conservatorio Santa Cecilia, in downtown Buenos Aires and when our turn came entered alone into the great room and played for the judges or examiners.
It was our BIG day. We dressed up and traveled by train and bus to the capital, so nervous and excited.
I still have one of the dresses my mother made me for the occasion.
I did enjoy playing the piano and still do. I eventually helped out by playing music for the church services, though not on the piano. The Templo, as we called our church building, had a harmonium, a fold up pump organ. I even played for a wedding once on that little armonio.
My dad and brothers played a variety of brass instruments.

I found only one photo where I am playing the piano at home for the family in our house on Chiclana in Don Bosco, a suburb of Buenos Aires.

A challenge for those who read my SIL's blog Just a Southern Girl:
Which one of my brothers is her hubby?

Flashback Friday: Birthdays

Linda has challenged us again this week with another interesting topic.
Check out her answers and those of all who link up. And, of course, por supuesto, you must read mine, and comment too, por favor, pretty please!

What were birthdays like when you were growing up? Were they a big deal or understated? Did you have parties? Get to choose what or where the family ate for dinner? Are there any particular birthday traditions that you remember? Is there any birthday that stands out (good OR bad!), either due to the events surrounding it or due to the particular present(s) you received?

 My initial response was that birthdays, when my brothers and I were growing up in Argentina, were understated compared to nowadays. I don't remember having a party every year, though we always got a birthday cake. Can't remember having a choice of meal either, but that could have something to do with my poor memory. Old photos help to fill in those gaps.

(Dad's own handwriting. He made the doll buggy.)

Two birthday celebrations stand out, however, one in the US during our first furlough, and another in Argentina just before our second home leave. I recently wrote about the latter for my writing course, so I will simply copy it at the end. Oh, and if you would care to critique my writing, I would be very grateful.

About the first one. It was my 8th birthday and as a family we were due to visit one of the supporting churches in Canton, Ohio. I remember a table laden with gifts and much food, of course. It made a huge impression on me because I had never seen such a celebration. I have no recollection of any of the gifts, though, only the enormity of the event!

-->

Thirteenth Birthday Party—May, 1957

“Why don’t you go put on your new clothes?” Mother said.

“What for?”  I thought, but I dutifully went upstairs to my room and got out the pleated skirt and matching sweater set.

We had made several trips to Quilmes, by bus or train; walked the length of the long shopping district; searched in numerous fabric shops for my whimsical color choice--pink and gray.

Mother would not give up until she had found the perfect plaid combination. How I loved that wool skirt, it was light and soft and the colors pleased me. I wore it for years, carefully applying imperceptible patches where it had become threadbare.

But why now, nothing special going on, why should I wear my best clothes?

Then the doorbell rang and my friends began to arrive.

“¡Feliz cumpleaños!” they said.

Mother knew how much I had missed my friends from elementary school years.

They had all started back to school in March, each following a different track.

Delia had decided to go the secretarial route and was attending Escuela Comercial.

Others preparing for university chose the Escuela Nacional. And I did not need to make up my mind yet because in a couple months we would be returning to the US for a year in time for fall classes in America.

Mother was getting out the food she had prepared. I could smell the bologna salad sandwiches. My friends loved these. She also knew how to make homemade marshmallows because they were not available in Argentina. And my favorite birthday cake--the Never Fail Chocolate Cake with Seven Minute White Icing.

We played games, but mostly talked. I wanted to hear about their secondary school experience so far. All these schools were in Quilmes, the city twenty minutes away. They traveled by public transport. Some had morning sessions, others afternoon, and there was a night school option. Thus the same school building could accommodate three different programs with totally separate administration and teachers. Obviously the structures were simpler and the systems less complex than in the US. I was soon to find that out for myself. This was also like a going away party. A year is a long time to be away from close friends. Already I missed them and knew I would never catch up with them in school.

But for now, this was such a thoughtful surprise my Mother had prepared. We did not usually have birthday parties with our friends. Though the details have faded, Mother’s loving efforts to make that day special remain a sweet memory.

Memoiring Miscellany

 

I.  One of my 'memoiring' searches led me to this old photo. So very many life stories could be told these many years later.

The setting: the sierras of Córdoba where we went once a year for church camp, a beautiful area that evokes fond memories.

The people:

• The two kneeling in front are no longer with us. The first taken in a tragic accident that left my friend to raise her four adolescents alone. The second, my best friend's brother, a seminary teacher. His death was not as sudden, even so, unexpectedly premature. His widow is wheelchair bound and has a non-verbal down syndrome daughter still at home.
• My three younger brothers are clustered on the right, all middle aged now (depends on your definition, I guess, but they are not in the senior citizen category yet), and all have a heart for missions--the taller one is a pastor who also served as a missionary in Argentina; the next one is serving there now; and the youngest is an elder of a Spanish speaking church.
• Next to them is my former boyfriend who will figure prominently in one of the chapters of my current writing project, My Argentina: Life and Struggles of a TCK (or something like that). As I was researching background information about JR's Basque immigrant ancestry, I learned so many interesteing facts.
• Argentina has welcomed the greatest number of Basque immigrants, so the connection between the two countries is very strong.
• They  are a very strong (stubborn?) people who have survived for centuries as a unique group
• Their language, euskera, has no known ties to any other.
• Distinguishing physical characteristics are: prominent chin and nose; big ears; and RH negative blood group. A common way to refer to non-Basques is "short ears".
• The tallest young man in the photo teaches and trains pastors and evangelists in several countries: Peru, Chile, Argentina.
• Some of the other names elude me. But one of the girls I must call this week, good reminder of a neglected opportunity.

II.  Materials have been coming in from different sources on both sides of my family.
An aunt on my father's  side started scanning old photographs. This one of Dad's four oldest siblings is a treasured bit of history.

  

All overcame adversity and lived full lives. The oldest was one of the founders and presidents of Grace Seminary. His head always did have a tilt. I wonder why? Maybe I will find out.

Another aunt on Mother's side, spent countless hours going through Grandma Hirschy's diaries and letters highlighting anything to do with our family. I especially enjoyed the following entries:

Gradma traveled to Huntington, IN to help out when Mother got out of the hospital after I was born. In her diary she recorded, "Sam carried Kathryn out to the car and into their new home. I held the baby."

Next day, "Baby is fine. She is a darling with black hair. Kathryn tried to eat dinner at table almost fainted, but ate supper with no problem."

It is hard to imagine Mother in such a weakened state. We know her as the strong one. How the roles have reversed. If she could, she'd be the one carrying Daddy now.

In the family letter the following week, Grandpa wrote: "Mother got home from Huntington a week ago today. She says the baby is a Hoyt, she has dark hair and is a very intelligent child, already understands when you talk to her. Hoyt and Hirschy must be a wonderful combination!!!!!"

So there you have it--the H-H heritage! ;)

Just imagine the fun I am having perusing the 200 pp my aunt chose and archival-librarian cousin copied!

Memory Monday, Or Better, Memoir Monday

Thought I'd share the main points I am learning from the online course and the questions I must answer in my writing assignment this week.

Why do I feel drawn or compelled to write family stories?

So, if this material is significant in some way, to whom? Family and friends, or a broader audience?

What type of memoir: personal, family or family history narrative?

• Personal Memoir, not the same as autobiography
• autobiography: the story of your entire life
• personal memoir: specific incident, series of episodes or time period in your life
• Family Memoir: stories and facts about family members and/or ancestors.
   To be written in first person, like the personal memoir, includes my personal insights and stories, feelings and perspectives gained after MUCH research.
• Family History Narrative: impersonal nonfiction account about several generations narrated in the third person much as an objective reporter.

Other considerations: scope, theme, plot, structure.

So, I settled on the family memoir beginning with our grandparents, weaving the stories in a parallel to convergent sequence, using an altered chronological structure within each section. The theme or purpose--to highlight the threads or strands of grace God brings together to make the tapestry that is a family.

My assignment this week: 500 word narrative answering all of the above.

Two quotes I liked:

"The stories you tell about the past shape your future." --Eric Ransdell

Deuteronomy 4:9  “Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live! And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.”

Does any of this make sense?

Memory Monday: The Potter's Story

As I was wondering what memory I could write about, Mike asked me to rewrite or edit what he'd written for his Etsy store profile. Then, it occurred to me that some of you might be interested in the story behind the pottery. So here is my revision. This is what you will later find on klaytivity.com (If you English experts see any other edits, feel free to comment.)

"Born in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, I grew up and attended school in Milwaukee and high school in Racine. After a year of working in electronics, I attended John Brown University with a major in Electrical Engineering. But two years later, I went on a "short term" missions trip to Europe and ended up staying there eleven years. In Europe, I met Rita, who grew up in Argentina. After we were married, we lived and worked in Germany and Austria. Later, with our three children, we joined the crew of the ship Doulos, yet another arm of Operation Mobilization, the mission I had joined out of college. My work there again was in electronics, computers and sound systems.

After returning to the US in 1983, I worked part time and eventually full time at Taylor University, doing repair work and maintaining the phone system. In 1986, I went to work for Ontario Systems where I remained twenty three years, until April of 2009. 

I have always tended toward design and engineering but never toward art, so I thought. A few months before retirement I started dabbling in clay and was soon hooked. Since then my interest has expanded into several areas.

After throwing about twenty earthenware pots, I had the bright idea of single firing, and thought I could do that cheaply in a sawdust kiln. In the process, I lost about half of my work.  Thinking I had simply fired too fast, I slowed down the burn the second time, and again lost all but four of some twenty pots. 

Until then I had learned everything I knew about clay through reading and watching YouTube.  After these two disasters I consulted an art teacher at the local university.  He informed me that I needed to bisque fire first. bisque--I had heard that word before but somehow missed the meaning.

Within a short time, I had acquired an electric kiln that my niece had in storage.  The first bisque firing was completely successful, as was the sawdust firing that followed!  I have since built a Raku kiln and used it for both American Raku and horsehair, with good results.  The small wood kiln I built with free brick like the sawdust kiln, has not been used yet, still waiting for warmer weather.

Our house has a two story solarium and I have been able to convert the lower level into a pottery studio, small but adequate, with a beautiful view.  Last fall I was able to show my work at the ArtsWalk in Muncie, IN, and I hope to expand in that area.

I love the versatility of clay and the seemingly infinite possibilities for creative work.  Whoever would have thought that an engineer would enjoy pottery?"