Money and Aging

I always loved uniforms: Girl Scouts, football players, nurses - you name it. I was a Girl Scout. I was a Mariner. I graduated to becoming a camp counselor wearing snappy green shorts, a starched white middy blouse and green tie.

When I was 21, I married and moved to Cleveland where I became a proper matron. Proper matrons did volunteer work so I followed in the mold. The Red Cross had neat uniforms, especially the motor corps drivers, so I followed there too. Oh, it was grand! Heavy grey serge suit, epaulets, shiny brass buttons, real style. It was also the start of my realization that America has a caste system.

I'd always known that some people had more money than others, but it had never penetrated my numb mind that this made any difference. Sure, domestic servants only had Thursdays and every other Sunday off, but they enjoyed their work, didn't they? Some of my college classmates lived in co-op dorms. So their families didn't have as much money as mine, but that didn't matter to them, did it? I just breezed along happily blind to race, color, creed and "station." Frankly, I'm grateful for my naievity.

It was driving for the Red Cross that opened my eyes. My orders for the day were to drive some "old folks" from the Golden Age Center to the hospital for shots. For the most part, they needed help into the van. Some were on walkers and canes. Many were overweight and bent. They were not happy people.

It came as a depressing shock when I discovered that they were mostly in their 50s or early 60s! Why, people I knew were in their 70s and 80s and playing golf and tennis! Those Golden Agers really should take care of themselves...get outdoors, get excercise, eat more fruits and vegetables! Slowly, I realized the fact that all those good living habits cost money...lots of money. But what could I do about that, a harrassed housewife trying to keep up with three children, a husband to feed and my golf and tennis? Ah! How callous. Youth!

I began to go downhill physically as soon as my financial situation began to deteriorate. Granted you have to add a recurrence of my old polio (called post-polio syndrome), but as long as I had continued to excercise, eat well and remain "comfortable," I maintained the status quo.

My late husband's alchoholism began to affect our income. For that reason, I became fully involved in my business - working full time plus, and giving up my outside, fun activities. Instead of walking 36 holes, I was sitting at the computer for 36 hours. Instead of strengthening my abs, I was developing carpel tunnel syndrome. Instead of keeping my mind limber with a sociable afternoon of bridge, I was befuddling my mind with schedules, deadlines and spiraling costs. In short, I was slipping, but powerless to stop the slide.

The polio has been progressing of late. After eliminating other causes for my decline (lupus and polymyacitis among them), my doctors recommended a regimen of physical therapy that included swimming. It was great - until the bill came! Simply put, I can't afford it. I do some of the excercises on my own, but I rarely find time for them now. Why? I'm back to work. I work at home, developing an e-Bay business. Until I get a simple product that I can sell, sell and resell, I spend an enormous amount of time researching antiques, coins, art, etc. It's a very satisfying job, but my health is the looser in this race. And nutrition? Have you priced fruits, vegetables, dairy and fish lately?

I bought a bicycle. My now-husband's sons gave him a bicycle. We live on the bike path and our main activity for excercise and fun is to take a picnic lunch down to the waterfront. There we sit in the sun, observing and commenting: "How can they walk with their crotch around their knees?" "She really shouldn't be showing that stomach!" "Now, there's a real dog! Do you think its mother was a golden?" "Why don't they let the kid walk?" I think it's called "catty."

We often wonder what they must be saying about us. "Look at those old fahts! On bikes, they're dangerous!" Once, we were told we looked like bookends...both with white hair and grizzed and tan from spending so many years living on a boat. Which, I might add, is a good way to live cheaply in beautiful surroundings. We were very healthy then, but now we're paying for the sun exposure. Squamous cell carcinoma is rampant and the plastic surgeons are having a field day.

While money can't buy you health, it can sure go a long way in helping you maintain what you have. And mental attitude? Wow! Our hope springs eternal though. We buy lotto tickets (2 each week) and have a blast "spending" our winnings. My husband says that if we win now, we'll only break even. Che sera.