An Age for Celebration written by my daughter at age 17 Brighton Gardens was a beautiful peach building with an enormous green landscape centered in one of the wealthiest communities of Southern California. The retirement home not only attended to Senior Citizens but to High School teens that sought volunteer hours. It wasn’t long before I joined in and added “Bingo Caller” to my resume. B32 I would call out dully, just to hear quiet murmurs and shuffles of old and discolored bingo chips. I would hear snickers from the Queen Bees, talking about how naïve Olga was to put mustard on her sandwich. Didn’t she know how bad mustard was for her cholesterol? Not only was gossiping a commonality, but complaining was quite routine as well. It was always too hot or too cold, there was just no winning with them.
First, there was Doris who’d sit at the living room’s plastic fluorescent couch everyday at the very same time. If someone had “her chair” occupied, there would be a beheading. Then there was Richard, the bachelor, who strolled around in his walker nodding to the attractive women who still had a head full of hair and a mouth full of teeth, dentures that is. Howard played checkers every Wednesday, and every Wednesday he’d forget he was to play checkers. Then there was Mae. She was the most vibrant, hilarious, and childish out of all of them. Oh, she was also the oldest, 103. I never heard a complete sentence from her without a pun to it or a chuckle that anyone who knew her could identify. It was loud and obnoxious, as was she. While I would watch the majority of the inhabitants sitting lifelessly and waiting to die, I would turn and see Mae swinging on by, cackling with her groupies. Her smile could light up any dark alley way, any night in absence of a full moon, any person in need of a bit of happiness. Here I was subjected to all these elderly people who were bitter and angry at life, and there she was making a joke about it. Along with what I used to call a burden, volunteering bestowed insight, appreciation, and clarity upon me, the clouds had finally made room for the sun. Despite the age, a certain maturity is never met and a certain immaturity is never left.
While I used to drag my feet to make it inside Brighton Gardens, I was now walking, fast that is, to get there. I’d stumble through the door first thing after school in search for Mae. I didn’t want to turn out like the rest of them, holding grudges, spewing anger, detaining regrets. I didn’t want to drag my feet anymore, anywhere. For the last 17 years I had been rushing my life; now I wanted to pull the reigns tight. I didn’t want to get old and sit in a chair and stare at the wall! I wanted to go play on the swings, scrape my knees, and get into childish trouble. I was young, I was healthy, and I hadn’t been satisfied with my being. I had been too preoccupied with the latest Hollywood trends and the gorgeous boys with the baby blues, that I hadn’t even appreciated my existence, my youth. I had always been worried about something, but I didn’t want to be worried anymore, I wanted to be Mae.
That was my turning point in life. My perspective and my attitude, changed. I discovered a difference in me, a positive one. I had a bounce to my step and an optimistic touch in my soul. I had never been so passionate about being who I was! I let go of my regrets, forgave the guilty, and just smiled. I had been at Brighton Gardens for seven months, and every hour I spent there was a blessing, for it opened my eyes to more than anyone could ever imagine. I walked in one day, with that little bounce, and searched for Mae’s presence. She wasn’t at bingo, she wasn’t in the living room or the dining hall, Mae was no where. As I learned, she passed away the night before. The receptionist told me stories about how she had difficulty breathing. While she was being reeled out with an oxygen mask attached to her face, she was laughing and hitting on the firemen, calling them “Cuties” and “Sugar Muffins.” I was told she proclaimed that if it was her time to go, at least she was going out with a set of good looking men. I will never mourn her death, but celebrate her life, as I now do with my own. Thank you, Mae!
When my kids started attending school I began to pay more attention to the way people act and interact, I guess I was reliving my childhood through my children's eyes, while using the wisdom of my years.
I used to volunteer endless hours at their school and after school activities, and noticed how other parents did it. After all children don’t come with instructions and I certainly didn’t know if I was doing it right or wrong. I wanted to be a “perfect” mom, and not do what my parents did, “the best they knew how”. I decided to set my standards high and wanted to learn as much as I could in order to make as few mistakes as possible.
Some of the mothers were right there with me, every day, as volunteers in the classroom and field trips, as well as the multitude of after school activities. There were so many to chose from that I'd go crazy trying to decide which one was best for my kids, so many classes that no matter how many hours they could add to the day there were never enough to do it all, learn it all and be it all, but there we were, trying hard and doing our best.
There were the working mothers and the playing mothers. Those that would meet for coffee at Starbucks and a game of tennis, shopping, a day at the spa, a few trips around the world, some craft making class and wine tasting on Friday night, while the kids stayed with the nannies; or those who couldn’t afford to give their time to the kids because they needed her salary to buy books and shoes. Some I interacted with for years and some I never even met.
Then all of a sudden my kids grew up, and the friendship we had developed over the years started to blossom, but I realized I had put my life on hold this whole time, and although I loved what I did, I needed to find out who I was now.
I knew then I needed to go back to my own childhood and try to remember some of the things I had experienced or maybe even those I left unfinished. I have 'some' very vivid memories of my childhood, but I could hardly remember most of my formative years, I had moved away in my early 20s, so I decided to go in search of my past and started with my long lost family and childhood friends.
I spent many hours doing this, but I had the internet, and never doubted something good would come of this new 'Science Fiction World.' I started by placing a call into my highschool and asked for the principal at the time, to see if he had any information, and found out curiously enough that he was one of my old classmates cousin, so he got me her e-mail address and she gave me someone else's, and in a fairly short period of time, 4 or 5 months, which is nothing compared to the 35 yrs. I had not been in contact with most of them; I had collected about 80+ e-mail addresses. Then I looked for a venue where we could all meet again one more time and catch up with our lives.
I did remember that we were never really a close generation, nor a large one, unlike my kids who just graduated from a generation of almost 1,000, we must have been about 90 give or take. But I did know one thing, that no matter how close we all were, we did have wonderful experiences together for many years, and at one point in our lives, in some of the most impacting formative years, we were spending a big portion of our days witnessing and being a part of each others lives.
And just like the mothers from my kids’ school, there were those who wanted to get involved in making this happen, some that had major careers and trips and busy lives, some who lived very far away, those with not much interest in delving into their past, and some who had challenges and just couldn’t participate.
5 years ago I stood in front of about 70 of my childhood friends. They could have brought Ricky Martin to that party and we would have still continued to talk to each other for hours without paying attention to our surroundings. We had history together and we all seemed anxious to share on the history of the lives we had lived for the past 35 yrs.
We are a very special generation, a lot of stories have come out of our lives, some challenging, some successful, some failures, and we’ve even experienced the loss of a few of our dear friends.
Not long ago I stood again in front of many of them, we put our arms around each other just like we did when we were kids and we will continue to do each time we see each other, with the appreciation of a friendship that lasts a lifetime. A special part of our history. Only this time I know who I am…
