If I didn't already believe that dogs have an understanding of the human mind that goes far beyond what many people give them credit for, my visit on the Sunday morning after I arrived in Maine to the place where my son's girlfriend Shelby works would have certainly cemented that truth to me. The bitter cold temperatures coupled with the 16 inches of snow that had fallen the day before dictated that we find indoor activities to occupy our day, so we loaded Max and Ollie into the car and went to visit the folks Shelby cares for in the dementia unit at the nursing home. It also happened to be Valentine's Day, so we made a quick stop by the local grocery store for Shelby to run in and purchase a couple of trays of cupcakes as a surprise for her residents. It only took walking in the door with Brad, Shelby and the hounds for me to realize that I was in for a special treat that morning ... a treat that had absolutely nothing at all to do with the cupcakes Shelby carried in her arms.
We were quickly greeted by one of Shelby's co-workers who literally almost swooned when she saw my little Oliver all decked out in his Christmas sweater and red service dog vest. Ollie's tail wagged with bionic speed as he struggled in my arms to get to the nice lady's face as she made kissing sounds to him and squealed, "I LOVE wiener dogs!!!" and then proceeded to tell me about her friends and family members who are fellow doxie lovers. That's something I've noticed when I'm out and about with Ollie, you know ... there are tons of people who simply adore wiener dogs, and a by-product of that adoration seems quite often to be the need to tell me about every wiener dog they've ever known. Weird, but true. It's probably just because Ollie is without question the most adorable wiener dog ever, but still ... it's weird how many people just go head-over-heels crazy when they meet him. But alas, once again I digress ... back to our adventure with the people we actually went to visit.
To say that the eyes of the residents danced with delight upon seeing Max the big chocolate Labrador and Ollie the little wiener would be perhaps the biggest understatement of all time. As Shelby busied herself with passing out the cupcakes, Brad and I made our way from table to table with the dogs as one resident after another reached out their hands to pet our two tail-wagging, kiss-bestowing hounds. My eyes filled with tears more than once as I watched my son interact with the residents, his voice gentle and kind as he patiently answered the same questions over and over again. I saw the smile in his eyes at the reactions of the residents each time he crossed the room to let them pet Max ... it was a new joy to those sweet folks each time because they didn't remember meeting Brad and Max only minutes before. I've always known my Brad has a compassionate and giving heart, but seeing him engaging with the elderly folks in the room that day caused me to recognize and appreciate that special tenderness that resides within the soul of my middle child in a whole new way. I'm not sure how long we stayed at the nursing home on that cold Sunday morning a week or so ago, but I know that the love I witnessed will be with me forever.
Maybe it's because my recent birthday nudged me over the line into the "over 55" age group, but I'm suddenly more and more cognizant of how much our society values the skills and abilities of youth and, by the same token, how much it devalues the wisdom and experience of age. From appearance to athleticism to technological savvy to basic intelligence, society unashamedly promotes the message of "younger is better." The problem with that mentality is that unless someone kicks the bucket at an early age, everyone eventually grows old ... and I'm willing to bet that those who are currently in the "younger is better" phase of their lives won't be at all happy to find themselves on the other side of the coin one day. There are definitely good things about getting older ... you get discounts at restaurants and at movie theaters ... and there are great things about getting older ... grandchildren and wearing whatever the hell you want to wear when you go to Walmart and it being okay because everyone thinks you're a crazy old person. But seriously ... growing old surely is not for sissies, my friends ... it surely, surely is not.
Yesterday I was in a meeting at work when I looked around the room and realized that I was the only person there over the age of 40; in fact, there were only a couple of folks in the meeting who are over 30. And to make matters even worse, probably 80 percent of the people who were in the room are younger than my youngest child. I quickly went from believing my wisdom and life knowledge could be of benefit to the group to believing I had nothing of importance or meaning to offer the young folks sitting around the table with me. I quickly went from feeling like a hip, cool, gray-haired gal ... really cool spiky gray hair, I might add ... whose ideas, enthusiasm and love for the company could inspire and encourage the younger folks to pondering the very real possibility that they consider me to be archaic and are wishing I would just hurry up and retire already. I quickly went from feeling way too young to be old to feeling far too old to be young.
The truth is that I've been contemplating writing this post for a while now ... a post about how often older people are considered to be less worthy than the young in so many areas of life. Perhaps the most telling words in the previous paragraph are these ... "I quickly went" ... in my own mind, without any coercion, I quickly began to question my worth and doubt my abilities. No one shoved me down that path ... I quickly went there all on my own. The truth is that there probably are some young folks who do think I'm just an old fuddy-duddy and that I should get the heck out of their way, and there are some who really do value my opinions and actually enjoy spending time with me. The truth is that there are times when I'm the one who needs to be encouraged and inspired, and there are times when the young folks need me to cheer them on. The truth is that I'm not even half as cool or as wise as I want to believe I am, but I'm still not ready to give up on believing I am. There's another truth, too, though ... and it's a big one, at least for me it is anyway. The truth is that I want with everything in me to not only hope that I'm making a difference in the lives of at least a few of the young folks who are coming behind me, but to actually do it.
Out with the old? Not just yet, friends ... not just yet.
We were quickly greeted by one of Shelby's co-workers who literally almost swooned when she saw my little Oliver all decked out in his Christmas sweater and red service dog vest. Ollie's tail wagged with bionic speed as he struggled in my arms to get to the nice lady's face as she made kissing sounds to him and squealed, "I LOVE wiener dogs!!!" and then proceeded to tell me about her friends and family members who are fellow doxie lovers. That's something I've noticed when I'm out and about with Ollie, you know ... there are tons of people who simply adore wiener dogs, and a by-product of that adoration seems quite often to be the need to tell me about every wiener dog they've ever known. Weird, but true. It's probably just because Ollie is without question the most adorable wiener dog ever, but still ... it's weird how many people just go head-over-heels crazy when they meet him. But alas, once again I digress ... back to our adventure with the people we actually went to visit.
To say that the eyes of the residents danced with delight upon seeing Max the big chocolate Labrador and Ollie the little wiener would be perhaps the biggest understatement of all time. As Shelby busied herself with passing out the cupcakes, Brad and I made our way from table to table with the dogs as one resident after another reached out their hands to pet our two tail-wagging, kiss-bestowing hounds. My eyes filled with tears more than once as I watched my son interact with the residents, his voice gentle and kind as he patiently answered the same questions over and over again. I saw the smile in his eyes at the reactions of the residents each time he crossed the room to let them pet Max ... it was a new joy to those sweet folks each time because they didn't remember meeting Brad and Max only minutes before. I've always known my Brad has a compassionate and giving heart, but seeing him engaging with the elderly folks in the room that day caused me to recognize and appreciate that special tenderness that resides within the soul of my middle child in a whole new way. I'm not sure how long we stayed at the nursing home on that cold Sunday morning a week or so ago, but I know that the love I witnessed will be with me forever.
Maybe it's because my recent birthday nudged me over the line into the "over 55" age group, but I'm suddenly more and more cognizant of how much our society values the skills and abilities of youth and, by the same token, how much it devalues the wisdom and experience of age. From appearance to athleticism to technological savvy to basic intelligence, society unashamedly promotes the message of "younger is better." The problem with that mentality is that unless someone kicks the bucket at an early age, everyone eventually grows old ... and I'm willing to bet that those who are currently in the "younger is better" phase of their lives won't be at all happy to find themselves on the other side of the coin one day. There are definitely good things about getting older ... you get discounts at restaurants and at movie theaters ... and there are great things about getting older ... grandchildren and wearing whatever the hell you want to wear when you go to Walmart and it being okay because everyone thinks you're a crazy old person. But seriously ... growing old surely is not for sissies, my friends ... it surely, surely is not.
Yesterday I was in a meeting at work when I looked around the room and realized that I was the only person there over the age of 40; in fact, there were only a couple of folks in the meeting who are over 30. And to make matters even worse, probably 80 percent of the people who were in the room are younger than my youngest child. I quickly went from believing my wisdom and life knowledge could be of benefit to the group to believing I had nothing of importance or meaning to offer the young folks sitting around the table with me. I quickly went from feeling like a hip, cool, gray-haired gal ... really cool spiky gray hair, I might add ... whose ideas, enthusiasm and love for the company could inspire and encourage the younger folks to pondering the very real possibility that they consider me to be archaic and are wishing I would just hurry up and retire already. I quickly went from feeling way too young to be old to feeling far too old to be young.
The truth is that I've been contemplating writing this post for a while now ... a post about how often older people are considered to be less worthy than the young in so many areas of life. Perhaps the most telling words in the previous paragraph are these ... "I quickly went" ... in my own mind, without any coercion, I quickly began to question my worth and doubt my abilities. No one shoved me down that path ... I quickly went there all on my own. The truth is that there probably are some young folks who do think I'm just an old fuddy-duddy and that I should get the heck out of their way, and there are some who really do value my opinions and actually enjoy spending time with me. The truth is that there are times when I'm the one who needs to be encouraged and inspired, and there are times when the young folks need me to cheer them on. The truth is that I'm not even half as cool or as wise as I want to believe I am, but I'm still not ready to give up on believing I am. There's another truth, too, though ... and it's a big one, at least for me it is anyway. The truth is that I want with everything in me to not only hope that I'm making a difference in the lives of at least a few of the young folks who are coming behind me, but to actually do it.
Out with the old? Not just yet, friends ... not just yet.
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