Pat Taub
My elegant 82 year old widowed neighbor speaks longingly of the years she lived in Italy during the time her husband was a Renaissance Arts scholar. Her three children learned to speak Italian and developed a passion for foreign travel. Another friend, who recently turned 80, frequently reminisces about her younger head-turning beautiful self—she’s still beautiful, by the way. Then there’s the 68 year-old acquaintance who feels as if her life has little purpose since she retired.
I get it. I too can be guilty of romancing the past.
Why can’t we, as older women, recognize our tendency to dwell on (and often inflate) the lives of our younger selves?
My own memory trail lights up as I recall the year my ex-husband and I lived in London, overlooking our tensions as I float in and out of nostalgia recalling the Sundays I took my young sons to Kensington Gardens. I screen out the fact that my ex was absent from these reveries since he was traveling through Europe, presumably doing research, but in reality trying to recapture his carefree single days. Similarly, I look back wistfully at the gourmet dinner parties we held for close couple friends, languishing over our witty conversations, choosing to ignore that my ex’s drinking was out of control and that he frequently embarrassed me.
Beatrice Wood, ceramic artist, whose most productive work was from 80 until her death at 105. (Jill Stattler)
Why do older women get mired in the past instead of planning a future that holds new positive memories? Fundamentally I think it’s because we buy into the cultural message that older women are used up; they had their day in the sun.
We often behave like we’re expected to sit around and wait for the Grim Reaper. We have to stop thinking like this. We have to release the power the culture has on us.
We have to stop romancing the past to the determent of finding new meaning in the days that lie ahead.
Yayoi Kusama, 83 year old Japanese artist who works in polka dots (The Guardian)
We have to claim our fabulous older selves, honoring our accomplishments and dare to dream of new adventures.
Granted, we may have to modify our dreams. We may be too old to tackle Mt. Washington or kayak in rough waters, or even have big bucks for travel, but we can find creative avenues for bold living on a smaller scale. To celebrate her 73rd birthday a friend bought a bicycle. It’s given her a new lease on life. Another woman in her 70’s uses her retirement savings to take one foreign trip a year. So far she’s been to Turkey and on a safari. Another friend, who always longed to be a Sunday painter, is doing just that, packing up her new watercolors and easel and trekking to scenic spots to paint.
Relishing the present moment. (Miyoko Ihara)
For me, there’s been some trial and error in exploring new paths in my old age. Two summers ago I took a playwriting course, where I was old enough to be everyone’s mother. It was fun, but I’m no Lillian Hellman. For now I’ll stick to prose writing, but I’m open to dusting off my acting credentials when the opportunity strikes.
