Author: Meg Noble Peterson Page 1 of 31

I know. I’m the one who promised not to talk about OLD AGE anymore. And, suddenly, I am swamped with tantalizing emails describing new and environmentally-sound ways to dispose of my corpse that will use up most of the money I have allotted for my children’s future if I choose to take advantage of them. I am simultaneously fascinated and turned off, but the exigencies of the past year (my post-pneumonia era) have definitely had an effect on my psyche, adding a bit of morbidness to my sense of humor as I scramble to come to terms with unexpected life changes. One night I tossed and turned and woke up cursing my elaborate imagination that had me shaking in my bed with a combination of crippling neurological diseases, nursing numerous cancers that I rationalized were sent to teach me courage and fortitude, and a deep voice announcing with authority that I would never travel to Asia, again, even if I were given a free upgrade. This was surely the curse of old age, and I needed to deal with it once and for all. I threw hot water on my face and ran to my computer. Be done with this once and for all, I shivered. This is not the way I choose to go. Below is what spilled out as I searched for an answer to my woes.

I found my answer and wrote it down and now, as I take my daily walk through the heavenly landscape of the Langley Woodmen Cemetery, I revel in the beauty of trees and flowers, and open my heart and soul to whatever the future has in store.

                                          STILL GROWING OLD

Growing old is so much fun, my heart is overflowing!
Add problems with the eyes, and soon, you don’t know where you’re going….
The hearing aids were simple, but the mac-degeneration
Assures you that from now on in you’ll fight for liberation.

Glasses that were never needed now adorn my shelves;
For reading, intermediate, and distance…tell the elves
To stand alert and help this lady, sad and broken-hearted,
And give her hope it won’t get worse, but stop where it has started!

You take a tiny pill at dawn, which empties out the water
And keeps the lungs resilient, so you walk and never falter,
Except you soon are running to placate a nervous bladder
That if you don’t attend, will make your life unkempt and sadder.

But wait, let’s not forget the heart, so central to our health;
It pumps along, forestalling many dangers by its stealth,
Still…our present-day en-viron-ment is often far too much—
Its smoke, its toxins, fats—if we don’t heed it, it will crush

The strongest, so don‘t wait too long, acknowledge danger signs
That do affect our heart and, thus, longevity defines,
Until we step up to the plate and institute some change
Our noble heart cannot, alone, a longer life arrange.

It now is 10 AM, the time I settle down to work;
I know, why not give up, are you an optimistic jerk?
You bet I am, or death by dig-ni-ty would have my ear,
For I would live my life wrapped up in worry, doubt, and fear.

So let’s just see what fun diseases, maladies, adventures
The powers that be can send me, only, please, dear Lord, not dentures!
My mind is open, try your new experiments and pills
Can they upstage the days of yore, its mystery and its thrills?

I try to look at what’s around the corner with a smile,
‘though no more treks, I still know nature’s beauty can beguile;
And just for fun let’s find an oddball, quirky kind of hobby
With humorous results like standing naked in the lobby.

As long as brain is paired with an astute imagination,
You know that life is good, the train has yet to leave the station;
So bless your friends and loved ones as you face each coming day,
And when, at last, that train departs, you’ll know it’s AOK.

I just received an email that brightened my life, and I want to share it with you in the hope that it will brighten yours too! It surprised and delighted me with its enormous font (which does not translate to a blog), filling the page with observations triggered by my announcement of being diagnosed with macular degeneration–a major shock as you can imagine. Barry’s humor shone through and was just what the doctor ordered! Enjoy!

Hi, Meg

The irony is blinding but I have to ask: Are you going to be able to read what I write here on the subject of your eyesight? Do you have a text to speech function on your computer? I’m sure you could get something, I’m thinking you would probably choose a warm, deep male British type voice. Or would you prefer French? Regardless, it’s a challenge for so many aspects of one’s life not to be able to see. And while there may be some tools that can assist those with impared vision, not being able to see is the ultimate in the world of in-accessibilities.

There is a program on our local NPR station (WNYC if you would like to look it up) called The Pulse. Today the topic was the connection between dermatology and psychology. The program offered up several stories of people who are, by nature, caught up with their appearance and how others perceive them and how so many have severe mental health issues as a result of extreme skin conditions such as eczema. Well, I am fortunate not to have had much to complain about regarding my skin. However, I think that right after navel lint, degrading eyesight is the first real sign of aging that most people encounter. It came as a shock to me at the age of 40 to find that I suddenly could not read the fine print on the directions for installing a battery in some miniaturized electronic device. Not only could I not read the 4 point type, I got dizzy and had to lie down on the floor. Yes, that was mostly for dramatic effect but not entirely. I really thought that I might have suffered some kind of brain trauma. When I saw the optometrist and described the episode, the woman merely nodded and proceeded with the eye exam as if the only question really was, how much did I want to spend on frames for the glasses. Glasses? For me? The optometrist failed to realize that what I needed, in that moment, was not a fitting but a therapist. Someone to say something like, “Yes, it looks like you have a mild case of presbyopia but you are in remarkable good health for someone your age and it’s a marvel you haven’t had to see an optometrist before now!” Optionally, I should have then been allowed 30 minutes to talk about how it had all happened and what life was like for me back in my younger years when my sight was a medical marvel. But no. There is no preparation. There is no consoling. There is just the choice of prescription or readers and a clear warning that this is just the beginning and that you will be making regular visits to an eye doctor for the rest of your life.

Believe me, Meg, I totally get what you are going through. And it seems that this has come at a most inopportune moment in your life. Just when you could give up so many other things (house cleaning, weeding, pickleball, etc.) and retire to your comfy chair for a good read or your desk for some neglected correspondence, your hall pass is denied and you must rely on your other four senses for purpose and diversion.

Hey, by the way, have your other senses become much more attuned? Do you hear colors? Can you smell the weather? Or is that all nonsense? Yeah, I’m thinking there are few substitutes for good eyesight. But every day brings promise of technological work arounds. I suggest that if those don’t come quickly enough for you or you just want to show some moxie and an f.u. to your aging challenges, you buy yourself a dartboard. And put it where you can do the most damage.

I love you, Meg!
Barry

Barry has been a dear friend of the family since he was in middle school with my children. He and his wife, Ruth, a talented violinist, live in New York City opposite BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music), a perfect location for a musician and a dramatist. Barry is the Managing Director of the New York City Children’s Theater, and has a wit, par excellence.

It was a glorious holiday season this year, my first on Whidbey Island in quite some time. This is about my special tree, because that’s what it was!

Daughters Martha and Cary found three “volunteer” trees that were growing right at the edge of the parking lot, and would get much too big. We selected 2 fir and 1 cedar and bunched them together in one pot to make a fun assemblage of conifers.

These are the thoughts that came to me as I contemplated the aging tree, several weeks into the New Year.

My slowly-leaning Christmas tree is telling me a story
About the way our life plays out, its sadness and its glory;
The mys-ter-ies unfolding every moment of the day,
If only we’d embrace them, vow to put our fears at bay.

Just like my special tree I am a creature of the realm
Whose fir and cedar branches stand for action at the helm;
The action lasts for years until its strength begins to wane
And suddenly the branches sag and life becomes a bane.

I watch the branches leaning ever lower in the morning;
This is my lesson, stay awake, and heed this simple warning:
The time has come to say goodbye to tired and useless ways,
Embrace a new beginning, let the light fill up your days.

Accept what you can do, and what you can’t will fade away,
Take optimism from the shelf, put new ideas in play.
Perhaps you’ll never climb another Himalayan peak,
But look around in gratitude, your world is wide, unique.

Stay tuned for pictures and tales of this memorable family gathering.

This is a quote I love from William Carlos Williams’s poem “The Botticellian Trees.”

And here is another quote I love written by my Tibetan friend, Shawo Choeten, after reading my memoir about traveling solo around the world.

“I hope all is well and your soul is swimming in an ocean of happiness.”

Seldom has anyone pinpointed so well the purpose of my travels, or the joy that still swims in my heart and soul as a result of these experiences. These words kept my spirits up last winter when unexpected illness came to my door, and they speak to me of new possibilities entering when old patterns have to be changed.

I do have sad news to relate about the death of a close friend and colleague many of you may have known from my days as Executive Director of MEH (Music Education for the Handicapped). Alf Gabrielsson, a professor of music psychology at Upssala University in Sweden, a member of our Board of Directors, and an outstanding presenter at several of our symposia, died of pneumonia on May 24th. He was a bright light wherever he went, a caring teacher of all ages, and a magnificent musician who could wow you with jazz on the piano or Bach on the organ. His books and his research into the effect of music on the human psyche and behavior were ground-breaking and their influence will remain immeasurable. Alf was also very interested in not only life in his community, but politics and opinion throughout the world as it affected our lives and the environment. You will not be forgotten, Alf.

The past three months of Whidbey Island sun and cool breezes have buoyed me up, and the summer peaked with new optimism for our country’s future. I start with a sample of our colorful plants and flowers that add zest to the endless year-round blanket of green that is surrounded by tall Douglas fir, hemlock, and cedar. We have dozens of succulents, orchids, fuchsias, and exotic plants nurtured by son, Tom, who I call the “plant whisperer,” as well as a plethora of blossoming trees gracing our walkways and forests. I am thoroughly enjoying the present and am deeply thankful. I particularly love the fortitude of the long-stemmed amaryllis.

One of my favorite activities is a daily walk through the beautifully landscaped Langley Woodmen Cemetery, conveniently located right across from Upper Langley, where I live. Halfway through my walk, I enjoy a sit on the bench built for the husband of a dear friend of mine. See if you can find me in the daisies, before I start pushing them up!

Daisies

The 4th of July was a hoot and unlike any other I’ve experienced on the island.

All over Cascade Avenue were onlookers spellbound by the continuous display of drones instead of the usual fireworks. Stories were told in sequence, flower and Orcas flew through the sky, and bright-colored flags rippled in the wind. See the YouTube videos I made of them HERE and HERE.

A walk on the Langley Beach

Tom has converted my sunporch into an extra bedroom, so we’ve been able to welcome several family members for short visits, and, at the same time, help them escape the broiling sun of the city. Martha was the first to grace the sunporch.

Grandson Thomas Bixler also visited. He lives in Austin, Texas, and was really glad to get away from the heat, and be in the forest.

Ebey’s Landing

The Shakespeare Festival was in full swing. Here we are during intermission at King Lear, not exactly my idea of a happy story, but a very satisfying performance.

In between all the visits, we enjoyed Deception Pass, helping Cary in the garden, and a beer at Double Bluff Brewery where… heads up… I’ll be celebrating my 97th birthday next June!

Robert, my youngest, turned 65, much to his surprise, in September. I was surprised, too. Give me a break, Father Time. I can absorb just so much aging in one calendar year. I was still getting used to Cary having turned 72 in July!

Then, we welcomed Martha back and were totally surprised when she arrived with her son Adam, who took a break to visit me just before launching a new enterprise in New Jersey. How about that for fun?

I’m back to my Nepali sticks

Ebey’s Landing fogged in. Disappointing!

Cary cuddling an enormous zucchini

A lot has been going on in the field of affordable housing. People are stepping up to the plate to help solve a very serious problem here on the island.

We know it’s pervasive throughout the rest of the country, but, like all problems, it works best if you start at home. When it comes to solving problems and making progress, Cary is the best example I know of citizen awareness and subsequent action. She’s done it with the environment, the cemetery, the food bank garden, the school farms, and many other projects since she moved to Whidbey. Check out this latest and one of the greatest!

It’s called Whidbey Home-Raising, and the website is HERE.

They started with the foundation dig out in September, and are now working on the framing.

I apologize for the length of this blog, but you didn’t expect me to sit in the house during the summer and write when the sun was shining and the woods were beckoning…did  you? Ha ha. Remember, we island folk have to soak up our good weather when we get it. Fall is fast approaching and the winter winds are just around the corner knocking at our door. So bundle up, don’t mess with those Halloween witches, and have a spectacular Thanksgiving. And don’t forget to vote!