Peg Schulte, the author of Peg-o-Legs Ramblings, describes herself as “an insurance agent, married, and mother of 2 college students who engages “in the struggles of daily life in a small town in Illinois” and who writes about “daily life from the Everywoman perspective.” I would describe her slightly differently: Peg is a woman who writes things that I wish I had. Damn her.
*****
A horror movie I saw as a teenager left a vivid impression on me. The premise was that the doorway to hell was an actual door in what looked like an apartment building. The only thing that stood between the world and all the demons of hell was a single, ancient man sitting guard in a folding chair in the hallway outside the door. The young heroine of the movie had done something terribly wrong, like taking someone’s life, and she was offered a way to atone and save her soul: she had to take the Guardian’s place. She said yes and as soon as she sat in the chair, she turned into a decrepit, grizzled, crone.
Welcome to old age.
At 53, I’m still relatively young by today’s standards. If statistics are to be believed, I may have 30 more years of life left. Yet the last 30 years disappeared in a blink of an eye and time seems to be gathering speed as I get older.
This was brought home vividly to me this past Christmas.
My husband, our kids and I went to spend the holiday with my parents. They’ve had an escalating series of health challenges lately, and my Dad ended up spending the week in the hospital. When I tiptoed into his room I found him sleeping. It felt like I had stumbled into a time machine.
I flashed backwards more than 30 years. The man in the bed then was my grandpa. He was at the end of his long battle with the illness that would shortly take his life. He lay there open-mouthed, breathing labored, obviously very sick. Flash forward again. My Dad looked uncannily, frighteningly like his own Dad.
“No!” I wanted to shout. When did my Dad become this old man? My big, strong Daddy who could chase away mosquitoes and monsters, could unravel any math problem, could navigate by the stars? Where did all those years go?
I’m happy to say Dad is back home now. He and my Mom are both recovering and getting stronger every day. I guess the good Lord isn’t ready for them yet.
I’ve often thought about that movie of my youth as a metaphor for life. The doorway in my musings doesn’t lead to hell, however; it leads to death. The oldest generation is who is sitting in that chair. They are the barriers keeping death away.
My Dad and my Mom, my aunts and uncles are at the tail end of what many consider to be the Greatest of generations. Many have already passed away. When that generation is gone it will be time for the next to take their turn in the chair. And that, my friends, is you and I.
All too soon it will be our turn to sit in that folding chair and guard the door to keep death away from our children and our grandchildren.
We’ll do it. We’ll rise to the challenge and we’ll do it because we have to, because that is the natural and right order of things.
But while the circle of life thing is beautiful and makes a really catchy song, I’ve got to say the whole business has me a little freaked out.
The Sandwich Lady
January 21, 2013
Haunting post and beautifully written. Thank you.
A friend of mine, who is about 60, has said that she sometimes is startled when she looks in the mirror. “Mom…when did you get here?,” she asks.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Thank you. My Grandma used to say “I look in the mirror and wonder, how did I get in this old woman’s body?” Now I know what she means.
k8edid
January 21, 2013
Peg, this is lovely. I have already lived longer than my mother did. I live in an area populated (especially this time of year) with older folks. They amaze me, as I see my parents and grandparents in them…and frighten me a little as I see myself there soon, as well…
Nicely done.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
I know it’s not very noble to say “Hey, I’m not supposed to be the old one, THEY are!”, but for me, at least, it’s true. Thanks Katy.
Tori Nelson
January 21, 2013
Excellent post, Peg. I’m in that sheltered stage of life where I haven’t had to deal with loss so much. It is the promise that I will have to someday that freaks me out.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
I do think that loss is somewhat easier when you get older, but I cannot envision having the same calm acceptance of death that the elderly seem to have.
Hippie Cahier
January 21, 2013
I’m more than a little freaked out by the circle of life thing these days, too. Hakuna matata, my friend.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Ha ha! Commencing with eating grubs and worms.
lbwoodgate
January 21, 2013
A good read on this topic is Daniel Klein’s, “Travels with Epicurus: A Journey to a Greek Island in Search of a Fulfilled Life”
In his seventies “Klein returned to the Greek village and philosophers he has visited for decades to discover authentic ways of aging. In his funny and wry account, … he concludes that old age is a privilege to be savored, rather than a disease to be cured or a condition to be denied.”
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
I want to have that attitude. That sounds very interesting – thanks for the suggestion, I’ll be sure to check it out.
Snoring Dog Studio
January 21, 2013
Yes, the whole business does freak one out. Having lost my father just a few weeks ago, thoughts of my own mortality, and my mother’s and siblings, flood my brain. But I discovered this much — death is an amazing and wondrous and beautiful thing. It brings out strength you didn’t know you had. It makes you appreciate what you have and every moment you’re here on earth. It allows you to celebrate and honor another’s life. Though the pain of losing my dad is still with me, I feel a little less frightened about leaving this earth.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
I’m so very sorry for your loss, Jean. What a wonderful gift to bring away from this painful experience.
Snoring Dog Studio
January 21, 2013
Thank you, peg!
She's a Maineiac
January 21, 2013
Jean, I couldn’t agree more with your words. Thinking of you and your family.
Snoring Dog Studio
January 21, 2013
Thank you, sweet Darla!
Elyse
January 23, 2013
My heart is with you too, Jean.
Snoring Dog Studio
January 24, 2013
Thank you, Elyse.
cindyricksgers
January 21, 2013
This is thoughtful and timely, to many of us who are taking that seat. My sisters and I look at each other in wonder. “We were the flower children! When did we become the older generation??”
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Reminds me of a line from the movie “Parenthood”. When the mom found out her teenage daughter was pregnant she said “I can’t be a grandmother..I’m too young. I was at Woodstock, for God’s sake!”
roughwighting
January 21, 2013
And the best thing about this VERY good post is that we’re all talking, here, about the cirlce of life and about death, a subject our culture too often sweeps under the rug, as if we’re all immortal, or as if death and dying are ugly subjects. I’m checking out the link to Daniel Klein’s article, mentioned in the earlier comment. Thank you for an excellent post!
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Thank YOU. I have to remind myself sometimes, there ain’t nobody who’s getting out of this alive. It’s a great equalizer, isn’t it?
roughwighting
January 21, 2013
Exactly! And if we think of this more, we enjoy each moment more, don’t you think?
Lorna's Voice
January 21, 2013
The reality of this “circle of life” does creep up on us and takes us by surprise. My mom will turn 80 this year. She is quite healthy, but how in heaven’s name did that happen when I’m still just a Spring Chicken? I’m 55 but the fact that I avoid mirrors helps keep the illusion alive… 😉
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Jeez, Lorna, you have an awfully young mom. Mine keeps saying “how did I get such old children when I’M still so young?”
Lorna's Voice
January 21, 2013
And if you saw her in action, you’d never guess she was going to be 80. My next book is dedicated to her.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
That must be where you get the great genes from, Miss Rock A Bikini At WHAT Age????
Lorna's Voice
January 23, 2013
55, thank you very much! 🙂
renée a. schuls-jacobson
January 21, 2013
Hi Pego:
I don’t mind getting older.
But.
I don’t like the wrinkles that are starting to appear. Or the fact that strange hairs are starting appear in less than desirable locations. Or the fact that my boobies are starting to droop. I always that was just in cartoons.
xoRASJ
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Ain’t THAT the truth. I hate the ravages of time, and have (not seriously) considered the surgical option, but who wants to walk around looking like Mickey Rourke in drag?
1pointperspective
January 21, 2013
Peg, this is great. By the way, your humor shines through no matter what you write.
I really get your analogy, and it seems typical of life that it’s a stinking folding chair and not a recliner with magic fingers. This aint no Norman Rockwell painting, it’s the real deal. I hope I remember my seat cushion when I get there – it won’t be long now.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Aw, thanks. But I think you’ve got a couple of good years left in you, Grandpa. I can tell by how the top of your head shines with good health in your avatar.
1pointperspective
January 21, 2013
(Old photo – but thanks)
She's a Maineiac
January 21, 2013
Peg, this was one of those posts that was written straight from your soul.
I know this sounds trite, but we don’t really learn how to live until we face death. Such a simple lesson but one of the most challenging to accept. My gram lived to 100, she outlived two husbands, a brother, most of her family. All of her friends had passed years before. But she was a rock–always seemed calm, content. She told me she was never afraid of death. She had a strong faith and just knew in her bones she would be with her loved ones again.
This is exactly what keeps me going. It helps me view death as what it truly is–a transformation, not the end at all. I wish death wasn’t such a taboo subject. It’s the one thing that binds us all together.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
So well put, Darla. I think life would be a pretty scary process if one did NOT believe in an afterlife, but I have to admire those who truly seize the day.
Vanessa-Jane Chapman
January 21, 2013
January always feels like such a melancholy month, and is perfect for this kind of reflective thinking.
It’s scary, but what would the alternative be? If we lived forever then there would be no room for new life. It’s the deterioration on the way to death that I think we’re mostly scared of.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Exactly. That’s it exactly. It’s not death that I fear so much as all the losses we have to bear along the way; loss of those we love, loss of our own abilities and maybe our minds.
WenDStarr
January 21, 2013
It’s like you stole these thougts from my head while I slept. I kind of feel like I just left a support group for freaked out 53 year olds. You’re wonderful, thanks.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
“Hello, my name is WenD, and I’m a freaked out 53-year-old.”
“Hi, WenD!”
philosophermouseofthehedge
January 21, 2013
A universal post that will make everyone pause a minute ( Not much grater praise than to say a bit of writing makes people think)
I was the youngest of all the cousins and only knew one grandmother ( who was a bundle of energy and humor). My dad’s family generally lives to or older than 100 – that generation struggled so much, and has such calm and practical views of life.
Our lives are so much more stressful – with so many modern demands. I will be interesting to see how the end of life is faced.
Like you, seeing dad in that bed was a shock. There’s life’ reality
So you just travel on, breathing in all you can – you never know when that door will open – (and wow, what a scary movie even after all these years!)
Great post- thanks for inviting Peg to visit
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
100! What a legacy. You better take good care of that body – looks like you’re have it around for a good, long time.
philosophermouseofthehedge
January 21, 2013
Despite their hardships, I have a feeling this generation won’t fare so well – but who knows. Gotta get out there and climb mountains while you can!
(Oh, hope the praise was “greater” than grating! LOL)
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
I’ll take “grater” praise over having my writing shredded any old day.
spilledinkguy
January 21, 2013
Darn it, Peg…
you’ve got me thinking, now! And I was doing such a good job of… you know… not.
Brilliantly done, Peg… no surprise there, though.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Thanks SIG. Seems to be something about January that brings with it thoughts of death. Or is it just me?
bigsheepcommunications
January 21, 2013
Thanks a lot, Peg. Now I’m afraid to sit down. Dammit.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Not every hallway, Lisa. If you see the Grim Reaper peaking around a doorway, however, do not sit in the chair. Repeat…DO NOT SIT IN THE CHAIR!
Betty Londergan
January 21, 2013
Amen to that, Peg! I lost my mom at age 33 (before my crone-hood) and my dad ten years ago, at age 49…. so I guess that I’ve been the guardian at the door for more time than I’d like to remember, but your words still ring true. (And it’s not that scary once you get used to the fact that, god willing, you’re the next to go.) So happy to read you under Renee’s big roof!!
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Oh wow, to lose both parents so young – I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been immeasurably blessed to have both of mine well into their 80s and I truly do appreciate that gift.
notquiteold
January 21, 2013
I see it when I am shopping, and I round a corner and there’s an unexpected mirror. I wonder for a second who that old lady is… but I always admire her great taste in apparel.
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
Ha ha! And her wit and humor, and drawing skills, and…
Tar-Buns
January 21, 2013
Nicely done, Pegomysister! Talk about time flying faster every month! I’m seeing lines forming on my face and neck and … not liking it much. Think I need a brow lift – I look angry when I’m not since they’re sagging a bit. Sigh…
Nice of you to share your insights with Boomerlane’s family. So much talent!
pegoleg
January 21, 2013
LET”S SEE about getting a TWO FOR ONE deal om that< hmmm, tAR?
Go Jules Go
January 22, 2013
I’m so glad your parents are doing better, Peg! The ‘natural order of things’ feels anything but sometimes, doesn’t it?
And might I add – you and Renee are quite a dynamic duo!
pegoleg
January 22, 2013
Renee is a force to be reckoned with. 😉
The Itty Bitty Boomer
January 22, 2013
Peg, so glad Boomer Lane shared your completely relatable post! Having kissed both my parents goodbye for the last time in my 50’s (they were both in their 80’s), I especially related to your passage about your daddy – as I was totally “daddy’s girl” to the day he died. And mom, after his passing, strangely enough, blossomed in so many ways (though they had 50 years of a grand, active life together), accepted her “independence” so gracefully and with her usual spunk, until she was diagnosed with cancer in 2006 and secumbed 2 months later.
They both taught me much about accepting death with grace when the time comes, and also thoroughly taught me not to accept “sitting in that chair” waiting, but rather to come off this roller coaster of life whooping and hollaring with joy for doing everything possible till the last minute!
namaste …. itty bitty.
pegoleg
January 22, 2013
What a wonderful image (and attitude) – “come off this roller coaster of life whooping and hollaring with joy for doing everything possible till the last minute!” THAT is a profound lesson to take away – thank you.
Al
January 22, 2013
Hi Peg. My parents died 46 years apart. My dad when I was 19 and my mom when I was 65. An amazing thing about that is that I never truly grieved for my dad until my mom died. I was too busy living my life. I guess my point is, it’s the reality of age that commands us to contemplate, and therefore, anguish over ours and our loved ones mortality. I bid you welcome to the club. We’re a pretty fortunate group, all things considered.
pegoleg
January 23, 2013
I can’t imagine losing a parent that young – it must have left quite an impression on you.
When people complain about getting old I always say, “it sure beats the alternative.” Now all I have to do is convince myself of that.
pattisj
January 22, 2013
I’ve felt like a decrepit, grizzled crone after sitting on some of those chairs…
Good post, Peg. After losing both parents, one’s own mortality enters the picture rather abruptly.
pegoleg
January 23, 2013
Oh, my poor sciatica!
My brother-in-law has lost his parents and all of his aunts and uncles. He said it’s unnerving to now be the oldest generation without a “buffer”.
Elyse
January 23, 2013
You really nailed this one, Peg.
Me, I’m not at all afraid of death. I will be with folks that have gone before me. But the dying part scares the shit out of me.
pegoleg
January 23, 2013
Me too. More specifically, the getting really, REALLY old part, and then dying.
Elyse
January 23, 2013
Yeah. Or just being really really old before I am really really old. Yuck.
lauriemirkinLaurie Mirkin
January 23, 2013
This part of our lives is tricky. I’m 62 and there’s no one left in my mother’s family except her, and she is 90 and has a mind as sound as a 30 year old. Now, at 62, some of my friends are leaving, one by one, and going to wherever you actually go when you pass. I was touched by the vision of your Dad in the hospital bed, and I’m happy for you that you still have him. My Dad went into the the hospital and never came out. My mother, sister and I sat around the bed during his last 24 hours and until he took his last breath. So painfully surreal; I wanted to shake him and say, “come back, wake up, I’m not ready to say goodbye yet!” But such is life. Enjoy your folks like each day is their last, and thank you for a moving blog.
pegoleg
January 24, 2013
“painfully surreal” – that is so true. Talked to my parents last night and mom said they went out to lunch and had to call 911 to come to the restaurant – my Dad turned so ashen and slumped in his chair she thought he was dead. By the time the ambulance arrived he was OK and they just went home. I have a feeling it’s just a matter of time, and not a long time. I’m having a really hard time with that.
Thank you for your kind and thoughtful comment.
Val
January 24, 2013
I’m a little under a decade older than you, Peg, and am pension age. Both my parents are gone and I have days when I feel that I’m on the way out too – then other days when I say to myself, ‘nonsense!’. I could follow my dad’s line and live to a very ripe old age indeed or go the other way. But my sense of being the next came after my dad’s death and that’s quite some time ago too.
That said, I’ve never had much of a grasp of age or time… when I was a child, I felt really old, then at some stage I started feeling younger. It’s a curious thing, age. Particularly when we lose our loved ones.
pegoleg
January 30, 2013
“my sense of being the next came after my dad’s death” seems to be a very common reaction, Val. That and the thought that whatever age our parents’ die is fated to be our own expiration date.
susielindau
January 30, 2013
I will freak out right along with you since I turn 55 in April! Holy smokes! Literally. That will be a lot of freakin candles….
pegoleg
January 30, 2013
Holy smokes is right – how did we get so old?? And how the heck do you look so young? Did you actually crack open that door in the hallway and make a deal with the devil?
susielindau
January 30, 2013
Hahahaha! I mean… Muahahaha! No it’s all smoke and mirrors, caulk and plaster…..