We Miss YOU Already... Um... Let Me Explain, She Just Moved Away!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:      We Miss YOU Already...  

                   Um...  Let me Explain, She Just Moved Away!

An aircraft arrived, one of its passengers returning home from Israel.  We weren't aware of it, of course, or its impact upon our lives, not until Fred arrived at our door to suggest we wait a bit, wait for his good friend.  "She'll be here very soon.  She'll stay at the Astor until her furniture and piano arrive, a baby grand piano."   

"Wait?" SweetHeart and I asked, sort of in unison.  We were poised to rent our upper flat to an interested couple eager to submit payment and then schedule a move.  

"Hmmm..." SweetHeart mused, an index finger pressed along her jaw line.  "A baby grand piano!  She'll probably live here for a very long time!  That's a good thing."  She remained our very best tenant, becoming a best friend in the process, for 23 years.  We've long referred to her, to Joan, as "The One Above."  That piano gave us sweet music for many of those years as it sang, its black and white notes and chords penetrating through hardwood floor boards and a high ceiling.      

"She'll be the best tenant you could ever have," Fred stated with emphasis, quite insistently, his hand and arm gestures a convincing argument.   "I guess we'll wait," I said in reply, or maybe SweetHeart did.  "I mean, all the way from Israel to rent OUR upstairs flat."  That last remark was definitely hers.    

"She used to live on this street, north of here.  She loves the neighborhood.  You won't regret it for a moment...  best tenant you'll ever have," Fred repeated with even greater emphasis, his warm smile a reassuring promise, a kind of excursus or a codicil to his testament.  

The herald, Fred, arrived at our door in April of 2000.  The "best tenant," Joan, took up residence in June of the same year, or perhaps it was earlier in the year, April or May.  I can't find a record to verify the exact time.  Not terribly vital to this narrative, I suppose.

Don't know if it's a kind of phenomenon, as perhaps not all landlords / landladies and their tenants become friends.   So often, we're told by others, those relationships become more adversarial rather than warm and fuzzy and friendly, with cultural and social interaction mixed into the recipe.   But, after all, 23 years with the "best tenant..."  As landlords, we've been exceptionally fortunate.  

She became our surrogate "Auntie," sharing our cell phone provider, for example.  For 23 years, we've backed her car into her side of the garage.  Joan was never very good at backing.  Didn't matter.  I casually mentioned to her family, a son and two daughters, other relatives and friends, "I've driven Joan's cars for 23 years, but only backwards."  She's had three different automobiles over the years, the first was blue, one green, the current motor, a compact, is silver-grey.

Of course, there were a few challenges in our relationship.  Joan was, still is, an ardent devotee of The New York Times.  For quite a long period of time, the paper arrived sometime between 5:00 and 6:00AM.  It arrived with a resounding thud against the wall of our porch, as if hurled by a beefy shot-putter with great muscular arms.  The wall was just outside our bedroom, the noise of its arrival nearly catapulting us out of our warm bed. We spoke to Joan.  She spoke to the delivery people.  In a couple of years' worth of newspaper arrival explosions we forgot all about it.  (Or was it three years?  I probably exaggerate a bit!)

Joan has been, in the main, a quiet and considerate tenant, neighbor and great friend.  Except when she dances.  Or is it clogging?  Old houses tend to magnify sound, from floors through ceiling to the ears of downstairs denizens.   Things that fall or drop have contributed, over time, to certain evidence that Joan is in residence.  

Only once was there a sort of atomic blast, when a huge mirror dislodged itself from the single nail that held it in place.  We had trouble identifying the source, wondering if an aircraft had crashed into the neighbor's attic.  Glass and debris covered the floor of Joan's bedroom.  She was traveling to visit her daughter in Minnesota.  SweetHeart and I helped clean up the shattered glass and other resultantly exploded material, books and artifacts!  The mirror has not been replaced.

SweetHeart has helped Joan over the years with eyedrops, television issues, cell phone and land-line-phone matters, physical challenges.  I've carried up her groceries and other supplies over the years -- all of the above simply labors of love!  Keeps one in shape, of course, so not a complaint, you understand.  Repairs, too, of course...  plunging and plumbing, paint, knobs that come loose, carrying up, supplying and moving of chairs, leaking downspouts, outdoor umbrellas, luggage, spring and winter window manipulations...  But all of that goes with property-owning territory.  Mustn't grumble...  Exercise is beneficial...     

At 90 years of age, soon to be 91, Joan is moving into an apartment that does not require her to climb stairs, something she's done with grace and, recently, somewhat decreasing ease.  Her new place has an elevator and gorgeous views of Lake Michigan, watercraft and surrounding structures, grassland, the traffic that crawls or speeds along Lincoln

Memorial Drive.  The "crawlers" are cruisers looking for fun and places to park.  The "speeders" are eager to get home or to the tavern, a restaurant or shops, using the Drive as a kind of unintended expressway, unless, at times, when sirens and their official user-occupants intervene. 

We'll miss her terribly, that is, the proximity of her, of Joan, the ease with which we can see her and follow her activities, her travels, her wonderful poetry.  She has published volumes attesting to her poetic talents.  Joan is a rabid reader.  Her books, a mountain of them, will leave with her, or find homes with other avid readers.  Joan is very generous, kind and thoughtful, and funny, too.  She has a terrific sense of humor!  

Happily, she's not moving far.  We'll visit; we'll see her whenever we can, whenever she feels up to hosting her former lower-flat neighbors and friends.  We'll make plans to collect her for a trip to one of our favorite coffee houses, or for a spot of breakfast or lunch.  Errands perhaps, possibly a visit to our local bookseller.  Joan never forgets our birthdays and wedding anniversaries, gifts and treats of breakfast or lunch always part of the celebrations.   

We've grown to love Joan.  To be accurate, or to be honest, we grew to love her almost from the start of what "initial-ists" termed "Y2K."  It only took us a day, maybe two at the most.  She's easy to love, attested to by her many friends, her family, her grandchildren and great grandchildren, her poetry and Shakespeare groups, neighbors and so many others.  Stay well, Joan.  Settle in.  Enjoy your new digs.  We'll see you again in a couple of days!    

Humbly Submitted 12-08-2022...  Joel K.  

   

  

  

 

 

"The Nomination is the Award!..." (subtitle) The Curse of Ageism, and What Geezers Face when Discarded, Ignored and Diminished by Society!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:          "The Nomination is the Award!..." 

                       (subtitle) 

                       The Curse of Ageism, and What Geezers Face

                       when Discarded, Ignored and Diminished by Society!

Can't readily recall where I originally heard the expression, the one used as the main title of this posting.  It seems apt, however, for those who did not have the great honor of rising, somewhat stunned, walking up to the awards presentation stage to be handed the top prize...    but who, nonetheless, were so honored by their peers, one of a just a chosen few...  not blessed with ultimate victory, perhaps, but at least...   nominated, even though steeped in GeezerHood, considered to be out of date, obsolete!

The new book that I was privileged to write and have published is entitled, Making a U-Turn in the Gig Economy.  SweetHeart helped a great deal by contributing excellent topic ideas and editing skill.  Our wonderful granddaughter, Lucy, created all but one of the gorgeous, cartoon-like illustrations.  Younger granddaughter, PhiPhi, drew one picture, and that, too, is featured toward the end of the book's content.

It's somewhat like a serendipitous find while walking in the park, for example, when a large denomination note of currency suddenly and completely unexpectedly appears at your feet.  You stop and pick it up, discovering that it's real.  You stuff it in your pocket, and there it seems to grow, even glow, as if emanating stars and sparkles and bright colors, and you begin to levitate, in a way; you lose yourself in pleasing thoughts of using that find to perfect advantage....

But I digress a bit.  I seem to do that frequently...  The Book...   When SweetHeart and I

discovered a large crack in our "Nest Egg," we knew we had to find new means of generating income.  At a certain advanced age, one finds oneself, sadly, a victim of Ageism and irrelevance.  It matters little how brilliantly you may have performed in your professional life, how many awards and accolades you received along the way.

When we reach a certain age, we become mere labels...   "Seniors," "Elderly," past our prime.  The perception among the young -- to those of us no longer in the bloom of youth -- is like a scar or a poison pen letter or a false accusation or a striped prison tunic with a large number sewn onto its chest position...  A stigma, like a contagious disease, like a toxin.

In spite of brilliant Curricula Vitae (CVs), endless job searches, want ads, internet career sites and too much more, all pursued exhaustedly, we, the "Geezer Set," are rejected, abandoned, ignored and forgotten, like so much detritus cast onto curb sides and rubbish heaps...    So what then? 

We swallow our pride, accept reality and the "career paths" available to us.  In our case, food delivery driving, using our own vehicle on our own schedule.  No base salary, no insurance, no promise of an IRA or a pension or a so-called "golden parachute." 

But then...   like a kind of curative drug, a precious discovery, the great and glorious career has its joyful moments, a kind of re-awakening, and thus we decide to write a book, chronicling our experiences and adventures, the fun and the funny, the enriching and educative moments, the voyage into uncharted seas.  We begin collecting tales, writing down the memories, the rewards and the pains, after five or six years of picking up and delivering food to those who harvest their sustenance from smart phones and the "Applications" loaded into their complex circuitry.  We have something to say, something rare, something relevant and important!

The results, both unexpected and gratifying, can make the joys and the miseries seem almost worthwhile, worth the time and the travel, the mileage, the aging, unbent limbs locked into position in what seems a perpetual motion contrivance, and the costs of fuel and the setbacks and the wasted time and motion that so often come with the territory. 

Again, the unexpected!  We're invited to conduct a class via a university's continuing education program for older adults.  We've been invited to discuss the book before a large and erudite group, a book club, one populated by intelligent and well-read members.  Both events would center on our book, and the gig economy generally.  The former may be cancelled due to low registrations, but it's the nomination that counts, that lingers in memory like a sunlit day at the beach with crusty bread, ripe fruit, cool drinks and sugary treats.  

But then my thoughts return to the potential audience, and whether anyone who lives in

well-to-do neighborhoods has ever had an occasion to be mired of necessity in the gig economy.  There are exceptions, of course.  And, it's summer...  People tend to remove themselves from tedium, travel on holidays to pleasant, sunny and summery environs, and try to recall what it was like to be young and carefree.   Many are buoyed by strong spirits and mugs of cold beer, but like the holiday itself, a kind of phantom, ephemeral, gone like the fading of a dream.

But inside our heads, in our minds' eyes and memory, the things that cannot be removed or erased (save the devastation of dementia, of course), we can savor.   What used to be or perhaps what might have been, and we can lose ourselves in the joy of knowing we were awarded the nomination.  And we'll always have those triumphs, successes, our trophies and our victories.  Those thoughts, those ideas, are locked inside our psychic vaults forever...  or until we're dead!   

(Special Note:    Making a U-Turn in the Gig Economy is available through Amazon.com, as a Kindle, a Hard Cover version and as a Paperback.  One can also purchase the book at a somewhat modest cost directly from the author...   joelkrio@gmail.com...   Thank You!)

[ 2.  The perpetrator dedicates this posting to SweetHeart for her precious and indispensable partnership, support, superb ideas, her editing skills.  In addition, we dedicate this writing to Lucy, without whose gorgeous illustrations, the book would not be the literary and aesthetic jewel that it is!  Readers are welcome to judge for themselves, of course!  "Jewel" may be considered by some to be somewhat hyperbolic!  (But probably not!) ]    

  

          

    

Great Adventures in Literature -- Writing, Publishing and Promoting a Book!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:        What an Adventure!  Writing, Publishing...  
                                A Long, Rutted Road, an Exciting Journey into Literature!

I believe it began in 2008...  or thereabouts!  (When does Geezerhood actually begin?  Does *AAARPFGP make the rule, set the standard?)  In any case, I was certainly in the grasp when it began. The process of writing a book-length work of non-fiction has been and continues to be a great adventure, a humbling and, at times, arduous task.  Maybe even a kind of love affair, or perhaps merely an obsession! 
  
The photo at left is a kind
of professorial pose struck
by an author who is also
the Perpetrator of this Blog!

My wife, Sweetheart, and I, together with my wonderful and generous sister, Karen -- she who took the lead role, and who sadly died just this past year -- accepted the duty of providing hospice care for my aging father -- he who was suffering from two forms of cancer, and rampant dementia, a condition that heightens the challenge considerably.  As with other caregiving activities before and after my father's, it was extraordinary, intimate and a bit daunting as well.

Somehow, I knew I had to write about the experience.  My father's hospice period lasted a remarkable 19 months, so lengthy a time we had to have him re-certified for hospice care not once but twice!  It often seemed he simply refused to exit!  Cancer of the liver finally claimed his life in February of 1996 (twenty years ago this month!).  We had other challenges to face -- additional caregiving, my own personal demons and the necessity to earn a living intervened -- until finally I was able to begin the writing process, whenever time and discipline allowed.  

The result:   And Good Night to All the Beautiful Young Women:  A Tale of "Episodic Dementia" -- The Parent Becomes the Child...  It's not a bad book, my dears, or so I've been told!  In fact -- false modesty aside -- we're reliably told it's quite good!  And funny too, owing in large measure to my father's comedic personality!   

Since its publication, Sweetheart and I have engaged in what our literary advisors urged, 

encouraged and term, "shameless self-promotion."  I / we have used facebook, word of mouth, Email, press releases, a television appearance on WTMJ-TV's The Morning Blend, an "Author Event" (presentation of the "backstory," chapter descriptions, a reading, Q&A session and book signing!), consignment sales and other methods and media.  It has truly been a grand adventure...    so far...

We anticipated some 32 bodies at the "Author Event" held at Boswell Books on Downer Avenue in Milwaukee.  More than 70 actually attended!  We deemed it highly successful and

The anticipated "throng" of 32 or so
eventually turned into more than 70
attendees at the "Author Event"!

gratifying, especially given the time and effort devoted to the entire process of writing, editing, deciding on the publication method and subsequent promotion.  At this juncture, I must pay tribute and extend enormous gratitude to two phenomenal editors, Kurt C. and Sweetheart too, of course, both of whom kept things heading in the right direction!... Wonderful, thoughtful and endlessly bright and patient editors!  Giant thanks to my good friend, Larry L., as well, who has been a source of great inspiration, at times lending his literary brilliance to the project.

I also extend thanks to all of those wonderful people who wrote and posted reviews on Amazon

and Barnes & Noble, the two commercial "bookseller" web sites on which the book is available for purchase.  In particular, I thank Donna P. and Peg R., both of whom offered great support and encouragement and marvelous reviews, not to mention the dual gems of their love and friendship.  The list should also include brother, Kris, as well, for his most welcome support and encouragement.  He is one of my favorite people, favorite brother, too!  And Jaynie, of course.  I thank her most sincerely for her love and constant support.  And, oh yes, my beautiful cousins whose places of residence include nearly every region of the country.  They really are beautiful cousins, smart and talented too!

Finally (in the spirit of the Academy Awards) I wish to thank my publicist, producers, hair stylist, costume designer and everyone in Boise, Idaho.  Oh yeah!  My agent...  I love ya, Baby! 
   
So now what?  We've been talking about "book tours," and agonizing a bit, well, quite a lot to be truthful, over the probable or improbable efficacy of such an undertaking.  We've tentatively targeted Dallas, New Orleans, Los Angeles, New York -- or somewhere on the East Coast -- or possibly Florida, other key markets.  I don't know??!!  Affordability is a major factor... We'll give it more thought, lots more thought!  

And what about foreign markets?  I mean, Chinese people have aging parents, don't they?!...  or are aging parents!  Russians, Europeans, South Americans, Australians??  Or is all of this merely colossal, self-delusional presumption??!!!  But what the hell, one can't be blamed for dreaming, even fantasizing!

Perhaps we need a gimmick!  A pet goat!  A dancing wallaby!  Or a monkey, maybe!  We could all wear little red fez's, or brown felt fedoras like G-men wear.  (My father was a G-man, you know, an FBI guy!)  
"Step right up, people!  Watch the monkey play the bassoon and ride a goat...  and then buy a book..  or two, even!  Mustn't dawdle, only a few copies left...!"  (I'll have to work on my "sidewalk pitch" routine!!)

Another brilliant thought!  Maybe it's the second book that sells the first!  I just gotta keep

working on that mystery novel.  In the meantime, suggestions are most welcome.  Sweetheart

and I will continue to consider ideas, no matter how ridiculous.  (Hey!...  Can writers attract "Angels"? You know, like Bialystock and Bloom?...)  Stay tuned!  This adventure is far from over!! 

* American Association of Almost Retired or Possibly Fired 
   Geezer Persons!  

Humbly Submitted 02-29-16 (Leap Day!) -- Joel K.

[Special Note:  The perpetrator of this blog posting offers special notes of gratitude to several remarkably fine and talented co-conspirators...  maybe collaborators is a better choice of words... whose names are listed in the body of the above writing.  So, for those of you mentioned, you'll simply have to suffer through the entire passage to find your specific note of gratitude.  Thank You, and Good Night to All You Beautiful Young (and Older) Women, and Men!]