What is it like to be old — really old? Oldness is something I am experiencing first hand, for the first time. It was my thought, when I started this blog, that I might give others some insight into old age. I even hoped that some old folks would enjoy reading about (even communicating with) others in the same boat. A little musing, a little reality, a little humor, perhaps some helpful hints on how to get by — from me and from others. Unfortunately I have tried to tap into a demographic that isn’t there. People my age don’t spend much time on computers. Others my age don’t even know I’m here.

However, I do have children, and it is my hope that someday they may want to know what mom (grandma, greatgrandma) thought about in her later years, before she checked out.

What does 88 feels like?  Let’s say first of all that, having had vertigo for the entire month of  January, I am still grateful every morning,  when I sit on the edge of my bed, that the world is not rotating.  (Of course it is, but not so I notice it.)   And I’m grateful (usually) for having had a pain-free night.  My back does ache during the day, the aftermath of a T8 fracture and a congenital T9-10 fusion, but fortunately lying down makes the pain subside.    Then there are the legs — they just don’t want to go anymore.  I’m told I have one speed – slow.    And I’d never pass the driving test of walking a straight line.

Mentally, I’m still able to blog but notice that I have trouble with sequences.   Even if I can figure out how to do something, by trial and error, I then can’t remember how I did it.   Playing a game with my greatgranddaughter, Selva, in which each person adds a word to make a sentence,  other people can remember  what word each person added, but I only know the last two or three.    And, of course, like everyone else, I’ll walk into a room and not know why I went there.   But I think I do it more often than most people.

I have never been good at remembering faces and have gotten progressively worse. I’ll know the face but the name totally escapes me. I’m no better at dates. I can tell you the year I was born, the year I was married, the year my husband left me, and 9/11/2001. Don’t expect me to know 2001 part next year.   Even as a youngster I thought it was nice to know about the things that happened way back when, but it seemed to me the precise date was irrelevant unless I planned to appear on Jeopardy.

When I read some of the blogposts I wrote two or three years ago, I don’t remember ever having known some of that stuff. There’s nothing like having a blog to bring home the fact that much of what we know today and read today will have vanished into some mysterious cerebral realm in a year or two. Is it there somewhere, somehow retrievable, or is it deleted and the recycle bin emptied?  I tell myself that for eighty years I have been doing things and learning things and forgetting all about them.  So it’s really nothing new.   But I do think I have perhaps stepped up the pace a bit!

Not many people are terribly interested in knowing the inner thoughts of an 88 year-old lady but I put them out there anyway hoping perhaps someday my children and their offspring may want to know me better and somewhat understand some of the traits they have inherited. Some of them lean to the left and are anything but practicing Catholics.  I, on the other hand, was born Catholic and have never found anything that made more sense to me. I regret that my loved ones seem to think Catholicism archaic and dumb and are proud to have moved on to more modern and reasonable positions.

All the above will help to explain why I, over and over, write posts saying, “See, all these highly respected and educated people are Christian. See, this intelligent person became, of all things, Catholic! How do you explain the shroud of Turin, the miracles at Fatima, the caterpillar-to-butterfly thing, the world and life itself? I had hoped for some on-line dialogues taking to me task for my old-fashioned beliefs and putting me straight.

Well, if there are any octogenarians out there delighting in my posts, I don’t know about it. On-line dialogues seeking to right my wrongness haven’t happened. And I am 88 and getting tired. This does not mean I will stop blogging. It does mean I will probably slow down (it is like work, you know) and not post just for the sake of posting (some bloggers do, and I don’t understand that), but when I really feel moved to put something out there for whomever stops by. And my progeny. I really love you guys. Keep on thinking and seeking, and above all, love each other and love TRUTH.

Oldsters, I sure would like to hear from you if you’re out there!

Progeny, I welcome disagreement — and love an honest exchange of sincerely held opinions.


Lawrence Beamon doesn’t sing the words that made me think of this song, but enjoy him anyway.

Ah gits weary, and sick o’ trying
Ah’m tired o’ livin’ and skeered o’ dyin’
But ol’ man river, he just keeps rollin’ along.


Traffic cop: Do you know you were speeding?

She: Yes, but I had to get there before I forgot where I was going!



“If you can?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for him who believes.”

Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” — Mark 9:24