Raise your hand if you listened to Jean Shepherd, all night radio raconteur in NYC in the 1950a in NYC, who eventually collected his ramblings in a book quoted in the title. He polluted my otherwise obedient mind as a child. I found him on my radio dial, listened into the night, and traveled outside the confines of who I was being shaped to be. My mother would have said he ruined my life (among other choices).
I mention this to simply credit the title of this post, which is about “trust” and “cash” as we grow older. And older.
Who will take care of us, if we can’t do it ourselves?
That’s one of many swords of Damocles hanging over the heads of anyone who thinks about outgrowing their independence.
I don’t have children, one of the traditional bulwarks against infirmity. Instead, I’ve woven myself into a beloved community. In a way, this is my church and the life here is my congregation. Whether others see me this way or not, to me the entire world is relational, and my belonging here (the big here and the island where I live) is my solace and inspiration. Oxygen and Sunlight are my green pastures.
I cultivate friends of all ages because I seek wholeness and exposure to as many viewpoints as I can. Some youngers have taken to calling me Auntie V.
Will “the community” be enough like a traditional church where they care for their elderly? My mind wobbles on this. What if everyone I know dies or moves away. What if I fall out of friendship with those who promise to help - that happens as you well know. What if I am no longer fun to be around as some people are in cognitive decline, and become an ever greater burden?
I need to calm this catastrophizing mind.
The homegrown care capacity here is strong. There are networks devoted to those who choose to age in place. It’s not the same has having expensive long term care insurance or deep pockets, but it’s relational and I invest in this system through my own helping others. Also, I hope tthe death with dignity movement grows, and I can, with great courage, choose to go. Even without that as a legal option, there other ways.
The there’s the Buddhist understanding of impermanence.
Through this blog I am thinning out my ego’s attachments to who I was, my fears about what will come, and discovering a joy in presence, humility and allowing life to lead me. I remind myself that somehow life has risen to meet my step again and again. I remind myself that I have endured great challenges and dark nights and am more skilled at getting through them. I remind myself of the wisdom of uncertainty, given how little we control in life. And I breath easy.
One life among billions
I also remind myself that I am just a thread in the web of life, I am just a human in a sliver of time, and that billions and billions have died before me - and so my end, however it happens, is very natural and just, whether I think so or not. If it is a relational world, I will have a relational death, and that might not mean others coming to my aid. This is quite a spiritual practice, but worth it.
Now for the “all others pay cash” part.
I have more than enough, stored in my home which I could sell - or share with others who might help me out. I could stop buying clothes and shoes and never go naked. I’ve enjoyed packaged food, but can do without easily. I could live on the potatoes, kale, chard and even tomatoes and squash that have naturalized in my garden. Nah, not really, but I can trust my community to adapt, because I’ve watched us do it. My lifelong frugality has served me very well.
Trust. Trust. Trust.
I think that is the key. Choosing trust is not something in the future. Choosing trust is how I live, if I pay attention to my breath and the fact that somehow, through it all, I have arrived a week away from my 79th birthday, relatively intact with great gratitude for every scrap of my life.
We need to talk
A final word. Every one of us needs to think and talk about this. Needs to lower the fear and increase the ease. We need to talk with those who might end up caring for us. We need to talk about that in groups.
I’m eager to hear how you are looking at this, and what your assurances are.
Soon I will do a test run of a weekly zoom conversation and reflection hour, with prompts of the either poems or questions. I’ve always wanted to be a minister in the church of community. If not now, when?
Many similar thoughts going through my mind at times as well. Though I don't have the community you have, and so wish I did. If I hadn't left Maine, on the NH border, a few years ago (where I grew up), or if I had stayed in Vermont rather than moving to Maine in the late 1990s (but my sister needed me, my father had to move to a nursing home), I would have had community in either of those two places. Here it's my sons and their families and that's it. And, unlike some of my friends in Vermont, my kids have not put in veggie gardens (well, one did but it got away from them and they gave up), and the idea of me being "dependent" on them doesn't sit well with me. Being in community with friends feels better. I could move back to Vermont or to Maine and the community would be there. My friends are still there, and we keep in touch, and I still have 2 grandsons in Vermont.
Still, it's interesting to me, as I get older and the situation in the world is more and more tenuous, my anxiety over it is way less than it was, say 10 years ago. Even looking at the aftermath of a possibly disastrous election this fall . . . I'm thinking . . . whatever happens is obviously what is needed for things to shift and turn around. I'm holding out for the energy and power of Love (Raging Love as well), no matter how dark it looks. And when I do fall into that black pit, as I do sometimes, as I expect we all do sometimes, I come out quicker than when I was younger. I realize now, this moment, this breath is where it's at. If "all is well" in this moment, then . . . all is well. And if it's not, then we will face it and make whatever choices we need to. Being in community, like yours, offers comfort and a sense of stability. As you said, Trust is the operative word in all of this. And Trust the Love.
I think you are asking the right questions.