Growing Old: The cost of staying alive

There's an old saying that notes growing old is not for the weak. That's true. It's also hard on your wallet.

I am in my 6th decade of what a close friend refers to as the journey through life. My wife is not far behind in chronological age, but I will not mention specifics. We are at that point in life where we spend a fair amount of money on prescription medications and other health-related expenses.  

I like to think it wasn't long ago that we spent a good portion of our disposable income on concerts, vacations, trips to the movie theater (no more due to Covid-19), dinners out, and similar expenses. We still do some of those things, but we eye the budget to make certain we have enough on hand to pay for our monthly prescriptions and our medical visits. 

It's more an observation than a complaint. Lori and I are in pretty good health (I'm in good shape for the shape I'm in, my Dad liked to say.). We work full time and have health insurance through our employers. We're better off in that regard than many others. 

I try not to complain about growing old, because so many are denied the opportunity. Two of my siblings passed at young ages, long before the myriad of aches and unexplained pains that come with age set upon them. And I have already said the final goodbye to a few friends from my high school graduation class, individuals I knew when we were young, healthy and carefree.  

Our journey here is strange and mysterious. We experience developments along the way that frequently defy reason and understanding. Body parts that worked well and efficiently one day become dysfunctional the next.

There are medical explanations for it all, of course, but understanding the science behind the decline doesn't always help us make peace with the inevitable. The changes come fast for me these days, and I have made peace with most of them. I think that's important.

It's all part of the process.

--Thank you for reading. Comments and questions are always welcome. Post them here or email them kbotterman@gmail.com.

  

 

September and the rituals of autumn

I am happy to welcome September, the first of the autumnal "ber" months. 

After two months of temperatures in mid-90s or higher in my areab and uncomfortable levels of humidity, we are enjoying cool days and cooler nights, the type that carry a hint of what is to come as we move through autumn. 

Some already have started their autumn rituals. Local coffeehouses offered pumpkin spice lattes in mid-August and I saw Halloween candy displayed at a nearby grocery store nearly a month ago. Theses are the same shopkeepers who display Christmas decorations on October 1.  

All of that is far too early for me. I'm from a time before algorithms and mass merchandising. Sure, we started thinking about Christmas wishes the day the Sears catalog arrived at the house, but we didn't shift to full holiday mode, until Vern Hagenbring decorated the big display window at the front of his store in downtown Arlington Heights.

And we didn't focus on Halloween until Uncle Ernie selected the pumpkins he planned to carve for Jack-o-lanterns, usually around October 20. Carve a pumpkin earlier than that, he'd say, and you'll have a rotten vegetable on your front porch on Halloween. 

Things are more than a little different today. We still have strict adherents who don't speak of fall until September 22, the offficial start, according to the calendar. There are many others who believe autumn begins September 1, and others who think it starts the day temperatures reach a high in the mid-70s. 

Some commentators say it's officially autumn when soccer moms appear in sweaters, down vests and knee-high boots. While that is a reasonable measurement, it overlooks that many moms dress in that manner way too early for the upper midwest, where temperatures might reach the mid-80s in late October. The sweaters go back in the closet when that happens and out come the summer shorts again. 

I view September as a transition month, a segue from summer to autumn, from long days of heat and humidity to shorter days, longer nights, and steadily cooling temperatures. 

September is for me the opportunity to finally say goodbye to August, a month I never cared for at any time during my years. August was physically uncomfortable for me while growing up. I was raised in a time when many homes did not have central air conditioning. Most families either relied on electric fans to move the air around inside their homes, or simply endured the conditions. 

And August also represented the end of summer. No more weekend visits to friends with summer homes on Wisconsin lakes. No more days spent at the public swimming pool, and no more community festivals. (Remember, this was in a time when fests were held only during summer months, mostly because many fathers worked jobs that required Saturday hours.) 

Public school resumed in September, after Labor Day, in those days. I was not a good student academically, but I always tried to put forth a good effort and always enjoyed reading and learning about history. I approached September with a view of it being a fresh opportunity to be a better student. Unfortunately for me, my enthusiasm typically faded by October and was forgotten by November. It was like a curse.

My family followed rituals that followed the calendar. Many families do, so we weren't unusual in the practice, but adhearance to the rituals took root in me. It might be out of habit, but I still follow many of those rituals and practices, some only at certain times of years. And I'm OK with that. 

So I bid farewell to August 2021 (good riddance, you hot, wet SOB), and say "welcome September." Let's hope the month is full of both promise and promises met. 

-- Thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment here, or send an email to kbotterman@gmail.com