It has been a while since I updated this blog – attributable to laziness and procrastination.
The catalyst for starting again was a thought-provoking email I received from my older brother, George, who is 70 years and was recently diagnosed with “vocal nodules” – also called “singer’s nodules” or “screamer’s nodules”. George is not much of a “screamer” and his singing is, for the most part, limited to a bawdy song about Cleopatra. It is more likely the result of excessive talking having taken its toll as he makes presentations to audiences around the world on the subject of multi-cultural mathematics. Apparently the remedy for this particular ailment is to minimize the use of one’s vocal chords which essentially means talking as little as possible.
“Non-speaking bliss” is how George’s daughter, Holly, referred to it. This, in turn, reminded me of my father when he was getting hard of hearing. He was averse to the use of a hearing aid – he claimed that it was because of the background noise from the hearing aid. He also said the continuous use of the hearing aid would necessitate replacing the battery frequently which he deemed an unnecessary expense – echoes of an episode of “Fawlty Towers” with the female guest who would not turn on her hearing aid to conserve the battery! In my father’s case his inability to hear was rather selective and one could not help coming to the conclusion that it suited his purpose to either not hear or claim that he was not able to hear depending on who was talking to him!
But back to George, who in his state of limited verbal communication has been doing a certain amount of reflection on “growing older gracefully”, as he put it. He quoted some thoughts originally attributed to a prayer by a 17th century nun:
* You know better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.
* Release 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 all, but I want at least a few friends at the end.
* Keep my mind from the recital of endless details; give me the wings to get to the point.
* Seal my lips on my aches and pain. As they increase the love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter.
* It is probably too much to ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
* It is too much to ask for improved memory, but I can only hope for a growing humility and less certainty when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
* I do not want to be a saint since some of them are so hard to live with. But a sour old person is worse.
* Give me the ability to see good things in others, in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people. And most important to tell them so.
In my father’s case his inability to hear was rather selective and one could not help coming to the conclusion that it suited his purpose to either not hear or claim that he was not able to hear depending on who was talking to him!
Selective hearing is how it starts and then before you know it, hearing loss at all times and in all situations kicks in, its the price some of us pay for growing “mature”. As far as the guidelines for growing older gracefully goes…everyone of them rings true, even though I’m not quite there as yet…. definitely getting there.