THANKFUL FRIDAY

Michael and I are watching Shrinking on Apple TV and in this season, one of the characters and his husband are trying to adopt a baby. They finally have an interview with a young pregnant woman who is trying to decide between these two and another couple as potential parents for the baby. He chooses to have the meeting at his best friend’s house with other people present, people he trusts for parenting advice. The others get called out to deal with minor emergencies for their own children and the interview ends up just being with the three of them. At one point, this character explains to the young woman why he chose this place for their meeting. He said he wanted her to see the amazing support system he has in his life and that he recognizes the importance of having a village. It takes a village to raise a good human.

In the last few weeks, there have been a few postings on Facebook from old Collinsville friends announcing the passing of a loved one. Two of those passings were women that were part of the tribe that shaped and raised me, Mrs Ryal and Mrs Burton. While I haven’t stayed in contact, hearing the news of these passings struck a jarring chord because they were part of my village. I cannot deny that my scientific curiosities were encouraged and fostered by Mrs. Ryal; nor can I deny the lessons of kindness and comfort from Mrs. Burton. I am thankful for the parts they played in my life and my heart goes out to their families as they navigate through their grief.

But I am also reminded of the power of a tribe. This is why I am so willing to give out my phone number to my friends’ (often now grown) children. I had a really good tribe of women when I was young and it is only fair that I keep this tradition going. More than this, I recognize that I have built a community of friends that continue to support me. I have surrounded myself with a tribe of my own where we are supportive of each other in ways that go beyond words and moves into action. Without realizing it, Mrs Ryal and Mrs Burton taught me how to be a member of a tribe and the importance of building a tribe. Some may say that this is only something that can happen in small towns, but that is simple not true. I live in a metro area and the lessons of kindness, acceptance and comfort that I was taught by my tribe in my youth is what has made it so easy for me to build my own tribe.

Any where.

Today I honor the tribe of women from my past that provided me with skills for building the tribe of my present.

WHEN I'M SIXTY FOUR

I’m still working on rewriting that Life List. An idea will hit me and I will furiously write it down. Then the list will sit for weeks, sort of forgotten, mostly ignored. Recently, I have been thinking how that Life List should be more of a Retirement List. Though, I expect I will be much older than sixty four when retirement happens. Last week, I was talking to one of the ladies in histology and she told me that she was retiring in January and moving to Florida. I wouldn’t dare guess about her age, but she said that she had been in research science for more than thirty five years now and it was time. She still seems youngish to me and this made me realize that I too might still be youngish when I finally retire. I mean, Sir Paul McCartney is seventy eight years old and he just released a new album. During a Pandemic! Michael read me a post from someone he knows on Facebook. This person was wishing their sister a happy fortieth and something about her life was now half over. I said “How are you living your life that you’re only going to live to eighty?!?!” Micheal’s response was “You expect to live longer than that?!?”

Well…yeah…I do expect to live longer than that. That is why I need a game plan.

I have some ideas. The early years of retirement involve an RV that will also accommodate storage for our scooters. By then, Michael will have dumped his giant scooter in favor of a more reasonably sized Vespa. Both of our Vespas will fit nicely in the toy hauler Class C Motorhome that I have already picked out for us. We’re going to travel the country and one way of funding our adventures will be our December job as Mr and Mrs. Santa Claus. We will supplement the rest of our income with Michael teaching some online math classes and me teaching some RV park yoga classes. On nice days, we will explore what ever town or area we are in on our scooters. Rainy days will be spent relaxing at the campground. I will be warm during the winter months and a comfortable temperature in the summer months. During the Fall months, we will be in whatever part of the country that has the most spectacular Fall leaves. Probably Vermont.

Eventually though, the RV lifestyle is going to be unpractical and our bodies will need something more stable. I have a plan for this. Okay, so you know those road side motels that are made up of small tiny cottages? Like the kind you see on Route 66 or something? I’m going to buy one of those, preferably one in a temperate climate area and close enough to a hospital. One cottage will be reserved for a licensed geriatric nurse. The other cottages are up for grabs and will be our personal living spaces. The main office area will be converted into a communal living room with a giant kitchen. We will have an on duty chef, but with also the option of cooking our meals or potluck meals. There will be a pool and pickle ball court because I hear that pickle ball is all the rage with the geriatrics. There will be activities and volunteer opportunities and maybe a community vegetable garden. We’ll form our own Rock-n-Roll choir like the one featured on CBS Sunday Morning. I’m basically just creating my own retirement village. My very own version of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Except I hope to fill my village up with my friends.

It will be great.