“Are you OK?”

“Huh?”

“I mean you’re not quite here.”

“Oh, sorry. I think I’m just stunned.”

This was the conversation my wife and I had during a late breakfast yesterday. Lately, we have a quiet little life. I write; she does genealogy research. We stay in our respective offices, meet for meals and after-dinner TV. We alternate being seeing-eye-humans for our blind, diabetic, thirteen-year-old, black Labrador Retriever, Pip.

Pip duty precludes travel together. In June, Billie flew to Pittsburgh for a family gathering. In July I drove 250 miles to Lexington for a 90th birthday party for my 89-year old sister’s partner. Lynne and Bud aren’t married, but have been “living-in-sin” for ten years, so I guess he’s my “common-law-brother-in-law.” Anyway, he’s a pretty great guy, so I wanted to be there for this nine decade celebration. I thought about, but didn’t buy him, the tee shirt pictured above.

Then I drove home, and then back again to Lexington for a “celebration of life,” a memorial service, for my brother-in-law Ian, who died at 88, this spring. My kids and their families flew and drove in for this event, and the ten of us stayed in a rented midcentury modern house.

On the way home, I stopped to visit my almost 89 year-old mentor, George, who is recovering from several bouts of pneumonia, while being cared for by his partner, a PhD and climate science author, who is doubling as a home health aide. George and I reminisced about old times. I told him how much he guided my career, and that I look forward to his 90^th birthday.

At the same time, my son, his wife, and two boys, ages 2 and 6, drove from Lexington to New Jersey for a week. He lives in Seattle and they all just left for Scotland for two weeks combining pleasure travel and some business for Christina.

These were eventful gatherings. I met my great, great nephew for the first time. His father made my day by asking me to sign his copy of my book.  I discussed the evolution of the Lexington High School buildings with LHS graduates in classes of 1953, 1965, 1977, 1980, and 1981. We all lamented the decline in ratings from 3^rd  to 7^th best schools in the state. The world is truly going to the dogs.

Later, I was repeatedly shocked with static electricity over 1000 fiberglass slide rides by a boy in synthetic material pants, to peals of laughter each time, until his hair, my hair, and the hair of his grandmother stood out from our heads. I played dress up with plastic crowns and rainbow wigs, pounded on drums, raced slinkies, and played cigar box guitars with the amps turned so loud that adults couldn’t talk to each other.  I also taught this delinquent how to fill up and blow water from a pool noodle, surprising Mom and Dad with a burst of water at inopportune moments.

“You’ve gone from caring for an eighty-something-year-old dog to immersing yourself in the concerns of 90-year-olds and played like you were 6 for three weeks, and now you’re back to ancient dog care. No wonder you’re stunned.”

“I guess”

“Why don’t you write about this experience?”

So what did I learn from three weeks of family gatherings?

• Food excess is a family tradition – Five of us bought food for various events. Each of us bought two to three times what we needed to buy. It’s a good thing we’re OK with leftovers.
• Retirement, writing, house-bound dog care, my quiet life has fed my introversion – I might need more practice conversing with people rather than inside my head, and more planned recovery time in the interim.
• Blowing out birthday candles is magic – even when the fire code requires 1 candle = 10 years
• People will only say three things about you in a eulogy – My brother-in-law was “Athletic, Intellectual, and Adventurous.” I’m not sure how I’d like to be remembered, but I would like to have more adventures.
• Long distance driving after 70 and early toilet training are similar – Limit fluid intake and never pass up the opportunity to go potty.
• Evidently 90 and 6 are closer than I thought – Both my grandson and a member of the high school class of 1953 corrected me on their age: “I’m 6 and ½.” “I’m 90 and ½.”
• Getting to 90 requires perseverance – aging is a privilege denied to many, and you don’t have a say in the genes you’re dealt, but don’t take too many body loans in your 50s and 60s that you can’t pay back in your 80s, and Do the PT! Physical therapy exercises don’t work unless you do them.
• Dressing up like a king – doesn’t mean everyone has to listen to you: “Witches only listen to those who say please and thank you.” Such king play can end without a meltdown if you have an “un-coronation,” where you chant as you place each piece of kingly regalia back into the bag, and “hand power back to the people.”
• Grampa-hood requires marathon-like training – Lots of bending, lifting, crawling, are not prepared for by sitting in front of a computer all the time. Also, if I ever thought I didn’t need these hearing aids to focus on what high pitched voices are saying, I was proved wrong.
• Gracious aging is about attitude – Or in the words of my common-law-brother-in-law, Bud, “Thank you all for coming. Party as long as you like, but it’s time now for the Old Man to retire to my chair with the sports section, and maybe have a nap. See you all back here in ten years.”