As The Years Go BY

For many years I have belonged to a book reviewers’ group that meets at 1 p.m. on the third Wednesday of the month to socialize over dessert and then hear a review of a book by one of our members. There was a time when we shared lunch, but we have decided that just dessert is much easier.

Today was my turn to host our gathering. I got everything ready, then decided I had barely enough time to walk for a hour before my guests arrived. I got home about 12:30, in plenty of time to start the coffee and serve up the dessert—or so I thought.

On my kitchen table I found a note saying: “I got no answer so walked in, called and searched the place, saw that everything was ready, and wondered what was up. Then I left.”

Uh oh, I thought. I tried without success to call the writer of the note, and decided to just hope for the best. Just after 1 p.m., the note writer showed up. “Sorry. I got the time mixed up and came an hour early.”

A few minutes later, the phone rang. It was the day’s presenter. “Have you changed your house somehow?” she said. She’d been up and down the street but had been unable to spot it so had gone home. “Could have sworn it was white stucco, but I see that it is red brick,” she said when she arrived close to 1:30.

“Did you have a phone in the car with you?” I asked.
“Yes. But it was dead.”

Everyone appeared to enjoy dessert and the book discussion of How to Eat Well and When was a hit. I set a timer because someone had a time restriction. “28 seconds to go,” I announced. And then we talked some more.

We planned a place to have our February gathering and chose someone to review a book. 

As my friends made their way out the door, I caught one who had left her coat behind. Another left her cell phone on the coffee table.  “If my behind weren’t so big, I’d forget it as well,” she commented, (actually using a three-letter word for the body part in question).

As I began clean-up, the only “left-behind” I found was a mechanical pencil. I put it in my pencil pot. I doubt if the owner will miss it.

Did I mention how many laughs we had or how much we appreciate each other as the years pile up and we get goofier and goofier as time passes? 

Submitted by Libby James

By: Bonnie Shetler

Still WiseCracking: Happy Jack, Happy Me

What a pleasant surprise, yesterday we were cross-country skiing in beautiful snow at Happy Jack (near Laramie WY) with our granddaughter.  We had not been there for a long time and the snow was perfect.  The hills are gently rolling and with moderate temperatures, it was ideal.  If you go, (Exit 323, off I -80, go N 1 mile on Happy Jack Rd) it is often very windy when you park. BUT when you are on the trail amidst the trees, it is calm.  If you have snowshoes, they have specific trails for you.   It was euphoric, feeling grateful for a beautiful day.  Time outdoors is so restorative.  And oh, there was a little stiffness today.  A good trade-off.

By: Meliss Anderson

Ups and Downs

Sunny morning here. Horrible weather in other areas. People I know in cold, no electricity. My house is toasty. I am relatively healthy, yet others are dealing with surgery and cancer.  Remembering to keep the balance of hope and positive emotions while I enjoy the sun. 🌞🌞

By: Kirsten Hartman

Bucket List

Do you have a "bucket list"?  Why?
To me that implies that your daily life is not satisfying and you yearn for things you want to do before you no longer can.
There is a Zen story which rings true for me.  Some young Buddhist monks approached their master
as he was tending his garden.they asked, "Master, if you knew the hour of your death was near, what
would you want to do?"  He smiled and replied, "I am doing it."
So I think that by the time we are considered elderly we should have figured out what brings us joy and contentment. No matter what that is, like the Zen master,  we should be doing it. Check things off
if you do have a list but mostly just aim for making every day full of the things that bring you joy! By: Sue Kerchenfaut

Tote Bags

Tote BagsI guess tote bags have replaced coffee mugs as everyone’s favorite give-away. I have a tote from the LWV, The New Yorker, my church, a local bookstore, a local liquor store, the local FM radio station, three grocery stores (in addition to having a reusable bag for each), the Sanctuary movement, decorative totes, homemade ones from friends, even one for beer growlers! So many totes, so little filling. Dealing with papers and filing has always been a nightmare for me, and too much organization is never a good thing. Whenever I file documents away for “safe keeping,” I do such a good job that even I can’t find them again. Piles work better for me. Could totes be just hidden piles? Would it work, categorizing the bags to hold my various notes and materials? I see myself sorting through bags to find what I’m looking for, assuming I stuck things in the right bag . . .  are you getting the picture?Anyone need a tote?

submitted by Jane Everham

By: Bonnie Shetler

Chronologically Gifted

I found this in the process of cleaning out some files. Since the author is a 17^th century anonymous nun, I figured she wouldn’t mind if I shared it.

Libby James

                                    Prayer for the Chronologically Gifted

Lord, you know better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Relieve me from craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it at all, but you know that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details, give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for enough grace to enjoy the tales of others’ pain, but help me to endure them with patience. I dare not ask for an improved memory that seems to clash with the memories of others.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint. Some of them are so hard to live with but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people, and give me, Lord, the grace to tell them so.

By: Libby James

A while back one of my Stove Prairie neighbors, geezer Wes Rutt, hopped on his motorcycle with his intrepid wife Nicki seated behind and a camera  attached to his helmet. They rode the loop from Laporte, up Rist Canyon, down Stove Prairie Rd to Masonville, and back up along Horsetooth Reservoir to Bellvue. The resulting video includes a running commentary on the history of the area. Fun and fascinating to watch.

Part one (of three) of the history of Wes'  motorcycle adventures has been posted on the PAFC Graceful Aging series.

By: Bonnie Shetler