Mar 4·edited Mar 4Liked by Sari Botton, Julie Metz
Thanks, Julie, for a great essay. One week ago just at this time Monday morning, I put a thermometer in my father's mouth and got a reading of 99.5. I was glad because all weekend I thought he was declining for good, as he is 97. Then I gave him the Covid test, and he tested positive. After a virtual appointment with urgent care -- I sat him in front of my computer -- he went to bed. That evening he fell over his walker (he tends to grab it by one handle first) and kept calling me and my brother, but we could not hear him on the other side of a big house, so he crawled and going to check on him, my brother found him on the floor. Together we could not lift him, so I called 911 and the paramedics came. He was disoriented and had 101 fever but eventually was up and walking with his walker because he didn't want to go the hospital. I slept (mostly not slept) on the floor of his room the next three nights and kept feeding him Tylenol. (He would not take the prescribed Paxlovid, saying the side effects would make him worse than he fell -- um, felt.) Upshot: he had a very mild case and has been symptom-free and tested negative yesterday. Meanwhile, my brother, only 69, has been much sicker with Covid. I have mild cold symptoms but so far have tested negative.
I don't think there's a longevity gene, but my father's father and sister lived to 90, and he had lots of uncles and aunts on both sides of his family who lived to 96 or 98 or in the case of his Uncle Joe, lived to 104 and was amazing until just before he died. (On my mother's side, two of her aunts -- one of them, a Metz by marriage -- lived to 97 and 98.)
(Right now I can hear my father in his walker walking past my room to the garage so he can see if the New York Times and Arizona Republic have been delivered. Soon he will be raging against Donald Trump.)
Julie, I'm glad your father and stepmother are the way they are. Good luck to you and to all of us Metz fans.
Julie, ahhhh...the walking poles. All we need to do is make them decorative/chic and suddenly, they will be trendy and "on point." ha/ha I had a 19-year-old tell me my outfit (I'm 62) was "on point." She looked pleased, so I knew that was a compliment. Funny, I just pulled a few things from my closet I had forgotten about for some time. "Yes" to changing/evolving and living!
As Bette Davis (possibly) said "old age is not for sissies”. She only lived to 81, but she defied convention and continued acting as she aged, which at the time was remarkable.
Mar 4·edited Mar 4Liked by Sari Botton, Julie Metz
This reminded me of a similar circumstance I found myself in trying to be "cool girl" at 40 years old. A man I was dating was a surfer and wanted to climb down a steep cliff to the beach below. I agreed, since I was so trying to impress him. We sat on the sand after he quit surfing and talked until it was almost dark. Suddenly, we realized that to get back up the cliff wasn't going to be as easy as climbing down...we couldn't see! We made it, but I knew deep inside that this was a dangerous stunt and we could've lost our lives. Your father and step-mother sound amazing. Walking poles...I had to laugh. I became very "off kilter" after brain surgery and refused to use a cane...walking sticks made me look like I was serious about my exercise. LOL
Thank you, Julie for this lovely essay. I shared it on my Facebook page. My friends will appreciate reading it. But did I miss it: how old are you now? I am 85 and encourage folks my age to reveal the numbers. I believe it's one way to eliminate the stigma. If you feel otherwise, I still thank you for this essay. Best, Elaine Soloway
My mother lived to just a few months shy of 100... the stubborn gene, I love that! I'm encouraged that I might possess her longevity. We'll see. But that I inherited her stubborn nature, I'm pretty sure of that, ha! Cheers! 💚
Beautiful essay. I wonder about the longevity gene. We’ve had centenarians on both sides; is it a good thing? My main question is: How long can I keep writing? We shall see. At seventy I’m still lifting weights and have two books coming out this year. Life is good. I’ll check out your books, and please consider a guest blog for www.stellafosse.com for your publicity campaign on your next book.
My mother lived to 102 and my dad 95. He was willing to die but she fought it tooth, nail and nail polish. She was Super Bea , her make-up and dressing up gave her supernatural strength. She burst from the bathroom like superman from a phone booth. I think that was the end of her daily fun. My friends and I do not long for 102 years. It's a long ass time, but now that she's dead I say relish your days with him as when he's gone it's tougher than you can imagine now.
Ahh, the longevity gene - one of those pieces of life’s puzzle that either fits or doesn’t. We’ll find out soon enough. I am 72 - Summers in the north east find me still dancing with the aid of BT headphones and music from the cloud. I’ve always danced only now I do it in my garage after putting my mower away. I came of age in the BEST era for R&B / rock and roll and I can only hope my voice and legs retain the same lasting power to move and groove. Thank you Julie Metz for this homage to women too stubborn to settle for the rocking chair on life’s front porch watching this world pass them by.
Thanks, Julie, for a great essay. One week ago just at this time Monday morning, I put a thermometer in my father's mouth and got a reading of 99.5. I was glad because all weekend I thought he was declining for good, as he is 97. Then I gave him the Covid test, and he tested positive. After a virtual appointment with urgent care -- I sat him in front of my computer -- he went to bed. That evening he fell over his walker (he tends to grab it by one handle first) and kept calling me and my brother, but we could not hear him on the other side of a big house, so he crawled and going to check on him, my brother found him on the floor. Together we could not lift him, so I called 911 and the paramedics came. He was disoriented and had 101 fever but eventually was up and walking with his walker because he didn't want to go the hospital. I slept (mostly not slept) on the floor of his room the next three nights and kept feeding him Tylenol. (He would not take the prescribed Paxlovid, saying the side effects would make him worse than he fell -- um, felt.) Upshot: he had a very mild case and has been symptom-free and tested negative yesterday. Meanwhile, my brother, only 69, has been much sicker with Covid. I have mild cold symptoms but so far have tested negative.
I don't think there's a longevity gene, but my father's father and sister lived to 90, and he had lots of uncles and aunts on both sides of his family who lived to 96 or 98 or in the case of his Uncle Joe, lived to 104 and was amazing until just before he died. (On my mother's side, two of her aunts -- one of them, a Metz by marriage -- lived to 97 and 98.)
(Right now I can hear my father in his walker walking past my room to the garage so he can see if the New York Times and Arizona Republic have been delivered. Soon he will be raging against Donald Trump.)
Julie, I'm glad your father and stepmother are the way they are. Good luck to you and to all of us Metz fans.
Julie, ahhhh...the walking poles. All we need to do is make them decorative/chic and suddenly, they will be trendy and "on point." ha/ha I had a 19-year-old tell me my outfit (I'm 62) was "on point." She looked pleased, so I knew that was a compliment. Funny, I just pulled a few things from my closet I had forgotten about for some time. "Yes" to changing/evolving and living!
As Bette Davis (possibly) said "old age is not for sissies”. She only lived to 81, but she defied convention and continued acting as she aged, which at the time was remarkable.
What a beautiful essay! Putting Julie Metz’s books on my TBR list!
This reminded me of a similar circumstance I found myself in trying to be "cool girl" at 40 years old. A man I was dating was a surfer and wanted to climb down a steep cliff to the beach below. I agreed, since I was so trying to impress him. We sat on the sand after he quit surfing and talked until it was almost dark. Suddenly, we realized that to get back up the cliff wasn't going to be as easy as climbing down...we couldn't see! We made it, but I knew deep inside that this was a dangerous stunt and we could've lost our lives. Your father and step-mother sound amazing. Walking poles...I had to laugh. I became very "off kilter" after brain surgery and refused to use a cane...walking sticks made me look like I was serious about my exercise. LOL
Thank you, Julie for this lovely essay. I shared it on my Facebook page. My friends will appreciate reading it. But did I miss it: how old are you now? I am 85 and encourage folks my age to reveal the numbers. I believe it's one way to eliminate the stigma. If you feel otherwise, I still thank you for this essay. Best, Elaine Soloway
My mother lived to just a few months shy of 100... the stubborn gene, I love that! I'm encouraged that I might possess her longevity. We'll see. But that I inherited her stubborn nature, I'm pretty sure of that, ha! Cheers! 💚
Beautiful essay. I wonder about the longevity gene. We’ve had centenarians on both sides; is it a good thing? My main question is: How long can I keep writing? We shall see. At seventy I’m still lifting weights and have two books coming out this year. Life is good. I’ll check out your books, and please consider a guest blog for www.stellafosse.com for your publicity campaign on your next book.
My mother lived to 102 and my dad 95. He was willing to die but she fought it tooth, nail and nail polish. She was Super Bea , her make-up and dressing up gave her supernatural strength. She burst from the bathroom like superman from a phone booth. I think that was the end of her daily fun. My friends and I do not long for 102 years. It's a long ass time, but now that she's dead I say relish your days with him as when he's gone it's tougher than you can imagine now.
I’m 85 and hope I have that gene as well.
Ahh, the longevity gene - one of those pieces of life’s puzzle that either fits or doesn’t. We’ll find out soon enough. I am 72 - Summers in the north east find me still dancing with the aid of BT headphones and music from the cloud. I’ve always danced only now I do it in my garage after putting my mower away. I came of age in the BEST era for R&B / rock and roll and I can only hope my voice and legs retain the same lasting power to move and groove. Thank you Julie Metz for this homage to women too stubborn to settle for the rocking chair on life’s front porch watching this world pass them by.
Lovely.
Julie - I have the exact same story of climbing down and later up a cliffside in Newport, Rhode Island. I had the bloody leg and the terror, too!
Always enjoy reading your books and essays! Thank you!
Beautiful! What a wonderful picture of your dad and V. Thank you, Juli, and Sari for this vibrant, hopeful essay!
Wonderful essay. I swear by trekking poles, but I don’t need them right now to head over to your Substack and subscribe. Thanks for writing!