I Made It

The Girls are Ready to Party
in Costumes from Aunt Betsy

To quote Casablanca, I am shocked, shocked...I am 70 years old today. How did this happen? I know it’s trite, and every person before me, if they are lucky enough to live to 70, says exactly the same thing. Still, it is flabbergasting.

I am also grateful and amazed. I know I have good genes and a great environment. I work to take care of myself. Most of all, I’ve been lucky.

I haven't had the courage to read my mother's diaries because I don't know if I have the strength to know what she wrote when I was born, and my twin brother died. (At first I wrote, "my twin brother didn't live.") It wasn't a subject we ever talked about, so maybe it never happened. Maybe he didn't even exist, yet my birth certificate says he did.

Mom With Baby Shower Gifts  

Did my mother know she was carrying twins? Were they so enraptured with one baby (me) that the lost of an unexpected second one (him) just was a vague idea to be dismissed and forgotten?

To complicate matters, boys carry on family names. Until he died, my mother's father bemoaned his lack of a son to keep the family name alive. Now her only son didn't survive to bear his father's name. I never felt my father, an only child, cared that he was the last of his lineage, but it was a point of stress for my mother. Perhaps my father was less interested, because his father had changed his last name (Why he did is another mystery not talked about. We were already in America, so it wasn't a reaching-the-new-country renaming. Some intra-family feud?), so there are only eight of us in the family with it: grandpa and grandma, my dad and mother, my step-mother, my two sisters, and me.

I considered all this when I divorced. Married in 1969, of course I dropped my middle name and stuck on my husband's last name. Just a little too early and conservative to either keep my own name or have ours hyphenated, the latter becoming a royal pain for women at the beginning of the computer era when no one knew how to enter hyphenated names. After 14 years of being Mrs. S, but no longer married to Mr. S, I had to decide what my name would be. Should I return to my childhood name?

Pamela Jean Coe
December 20, 1955

But I wasn't that girl any more. Take a last name from one of my grandfathers and keep that lineage alive? But what about my grandmothers' last names? Do men always get to have the last word?

Another thought would be to make up a name like Judy Chicago and my friend Elaine Elle, who each decided on a last name she wanted for herself. I was enamored of this concept but not creative enough to choose one for myself. I ended up being Ms S, because my young daughter was Miss S. Who would think that, when she married, she would take her husband's name? She did, both times, and I am now the only S in my family. I've kept family names alive by using last names for my sons' first and middle names. I wonder what my mother would think.

A Sour Jdid at Rick’s Cafe
in Casablanca

In any case, I am lucky, lucky. We went out to eat at a local restaurant, and I proposed a toast to me. I know there aren't seventy more years, but as Grant said, "Here's looking at you, kid.

Maine Trip

Zimmerman House, Manchester, New Hampshire  

I am noticing a big tension between wanting to see and wanting to sit. My sisters and I are spending five days in coastal Maine, up and out every morning to walk in the woods and see what birds we can find. The first day, since we flew into Manchester, NH, we toured the Zimmerman House, a perfectly preserved Frank Lloyd Wright-designed home that reinforced my preference of light over dark interiors. Obviously, Mr. Wright and the Zimmermans did not share that preference. Cherokee red counter tops and concrete floors with cypress walls and ceiling absorbed the light from the overhead lamps and south facing windows. A cool retreat in the summer. I can't imagine how dreary it would be in midwinter. From there, we drove to Harrison, Maine and saw our maternal grandparents’ home and graves, sadly, fairly rundown, before reaching our hotel in Freeport.

Betsy, Peg and Me with Lenny, the Chocolate Moose  

Sweetser's 207-year-old Apple Stand  

 In three days, we walked at four state parks and four Audubon centers*. The temperatures were mid-60's and the parking lots were empty. Unfortunately most of the birds had migrated south with the tourists, but the walks were still lovely. I really enjoyed seeing the sights, watching for wildlife, and eating lobster at least once a day. However, I needed a break to just sit. Without that,  I loose crispness in my memory, and the several days jumble all together.

Mast Landing Sanctuary, Freeport, Maine

But when we have a limited amount of time, we tend to pack so much into our days. The day after my sister was married in New Zealand, my girlfriend, son, and I took what we named the Bus Trip From Hell to see the north island. Driven by a young manic, our tour was a series of get off the bus, rush through an area, get back on the bus, and repeat. Just about the time I’d start looking around, the driver would insist time was up, and we had to move on. An exhausting day.

Cape Reinga, North Island, New Zealand in 2008  

However, we got to see the huge kauri trees, 40 Mile Beach, and the very top of the north island, where the Pacific Ocean and the Tasmanian Sea meet. Without the crazy pressure to go, go, go,  I would never have seen that beautiful line where the two different colored waters press against each other.

Audubon Marsh, Scarborough, Maine  

How do I balance wanting to see it all and wanting to think about what I’ve seen and its meaning for me? Perhaps renting a place for a few weeks or months would be an option. With a deck or porch with a view and comfortable chairs. We could use it as a base of operations, with day or longer trips radiating out. The downside would be finding furnished places that rent by the month rather than the day or week. Plus we would still need a permanent location so that would be mean double housing expenses, which full-time campers avoid. However, the thought of continually finding campsites seems overwhelming. Maybe once I got into the habit, it would get easier.

* State Parks:

• Wolfe's Neck Woods and the Center/Campground next door
• Mackworth Island
• Two Lights
• Ferry Beach

Audubon Centers;

• Mast Landing Sanctuary
• Gisland Farm
• Marsh in Scarsborough
• East Road Marsh

Meditation

I was quite pleased with myself for having focused my mind on just my breathing for two breaths at mindful meditation practice this morning, which meant I immediately lost focus and wandered off into thinking how I would compose this post. I've not meditated since my fall. Too painful to sit up straight even with pillows. I solved that today by slumping. No more excuses to skip meditating.

Small Croc at Fob Beach 

My sisters left early today after spending the weekend here. We had such fun going to the beach which was absolutely clear of Sargasso seaweed. I could not believe it. When I had gone before, the sand was covered with it, and the water was filled with it. It was yucky to walk in and creepy to swim in. I mostly passed. (In late June, a small crocodile enjoyed blending in with it and wasn't visible unless it came ashore. American crocs aren't aggressive, but no one seemed to want to swim with it.)
Now the beach could not be better. We floated and floated at what we call the fob beach (one has to have a fob from the community center to open the gates.) Another day we drove down to the state park and walked in the water against the current. I guess Hurricane Dorian blew away the sargassum as it went up the Atlantic. I plan to go to the beach as much as possible before more floats back in.

Having all three of us together meant we could go through the four boxes of family photos and mementos I brought to the apartment. I have to admire our mother' and grandmothers' commitment to making scrapbooks. However, do we want them? We decided that Mother's diaries would be kept. We wept a little and reminisced about old family friends while going through all the sympathy cards and notes from flowers we got when she died, then recycled the lot. I still have a big box of photo albums and scrapbooks to look at, but now I know what my sisters want and what I can toss.




One find was a scrapbook and keepsakes from the Coe (paternal grandparents) and Spaulding (maternal grandparents) memberships in the Tin Can Tourists, a group of campers that began coming to Florida each winter in the 1920's. I think Grandpa Coe built their trailer, although my sisters aren't sure. The Spauldings had a tent then later bought a trailer. The TCT would make arrangements with different cities for the group to spend the winter in a local park, although they were not universally welcomed since TCT members tended to be frugal (cheap) and not spend much money in the communities.

Betsy searched the Web and found the TCT has been revived with all the hipsters' interest in vintage trailers. The president responded to her inquiry immediately. They would love to have our memorabilia and would pay postage to have it shipped. By the time I was back from my orthopedist appointment Monday morning, the scrapbooks, et al, were on their way. At first I was a little sad I hadn't had a chance to look at them more (like I didn't do for the 40 years it all sat in my garage), but that thought passed quickly and was replaced by the relief that it was gone.

The less I have, the lighter I feel. Occasionally I think of something I vaguely wish I had not gotten rid of, like the little wooden desk that I used to display books on. Mostly I remember that I really don't miss it. I have more than I need. This weekend was wonderful.

Plus, Peg has six more boxes of family photos in the eaves of her barn. Perhaps I should offer to come up so we could do the same triage on them. I will meditate on that.

Shorn

Finally, after 16 weeks between haircuts rather than my usual 6 weeks, I have had my locks sheared off. Blame the time frame on my broken pelvis since I was overdue for a haircut when I took that fall. I've waited so long because sitting in a salon chair did not appeal to my sore butt.

My hair grows fast. This time one of my sons asked if I were growing it out. As if. I wore my hair long for years and years, but when my older daughter was getting married, I had it all cut off, voting with scissors not to look like an aging hippie in her wedding photos. What a good decision. No more hair in my eyes; no more waiting for it to dry; no more fighting the cat for ponytail holders (and one wonders why they like to play with them).

I pay more for a haircut here on Key B ($45 +tip) than I did in Fort Lauderdale ($17 total), but it's a fancier process. The results are about the same, longish pixie cut, but Alex's effort is more intense. He cuts off bits with the razor, measures each side against the other, cuts some more, measures some more, repeat, repeat, repeat. When I think he is done, he gets out scissors and snips here and there. A little more with the razor, more snips, measuring, different scissors and more snips, more measuring. Eventually he deems it done. I have to say, a great hair cut.

When he used a hairdryer to blow off all the little snips and razored bits, some got in my nose and reminded me of when I made a cape and muff from my Grandmother Spaulding's vintage mink stole, which was refashioned from a full length coat originally belonging, I think, to a great aunt. This was my first time working with fur, and I cut away with my scissors, not thinking that I would be cutting the hair at the same time as I cut the skins. I was sitting where a fan blew on me, so tiny bits of mink fur swirled around, and, as I breathed in, a lot went up my nose. I quickly figured out to cut the skin from the back with a sharp knife and eventually sneezed out all those tiny bits of hair.

Me in the Original Coat in Front of Our Trailer  

The cape and muff were Christmas presents for my older daughter the year she was reading the Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingles Wilder. My daughter was enchanted by the cape and muff worn by one of the characters. Even though we lived in South Florida, my daughter and her girlfriends loved dressing up as pioneers wearing mink. After being worn by other children and friends, the mink cape and muff are now in Okinawa, waiting for our granddaughter to be old enough to enjoy them. I have some pieces left from the stole, and someday I may use them in another project. The pelts are in good shape even though they must be 70 years old. I hope I can say that about myself in a few weeks.

Understanding Medicare

The project of the month is understanding Medicare, Medi-gap, and Medicare Advantage. When I told Grant he would be helping me, he grumbled he'd rather keep working and not retire. Which is a possibility. Just in case, I made an appointment with SHINE, a program that gives free, unbiased health insurance information to seniors. Kathy, our representative, knew everything we need to start the process. As I understand it, first decision is whether to use Medicare, which is accepted nation-wide but we would pay for, or to use Medicare Advantage, which has no cost but uses a county-wide network of doctors. In either case, we need to decide which specific plan. Some have higher co-pays and deductibles but more choices of doctors or benefits. Others are cheaper but more restricted.

Best of all, Kathy had URLs of websites where we can enter our specific information and find out which insurance is best for us. That means Mr. Computer will have a part in the process. Easy for him to type in all his drugs's name to ascertain which Medicare Part D would be the cheapest for his list. Better him than me. Since I take no drugs regularly, I just need the cheapest Part D available.

Grocery Store Ready For Game  

Feeling satisfied with having made this much progress, I decided to take the rest of this week off and travel with my sister to Orlando. Not to Mickey Mouse Land, but to see my son and daughter-in-law on the east side of town, then over to my daughter and granddaughter's house.

Originally Grant and I had planned to attend the University of Miami v University of Florida football game at the stadium in Orlando on Saturday night. I decided I just couldn't do all the walking that would involve, so I sold our tickets, netting $205 over cost. Nice.