A few weeks ago I learned that my lung cancer had crept into my bones and is likely to take my life within six months. That’s the bad news.
Tag: fixmer
Good news for families
At my age, it is not too surprising to have a bad health day that keeps me home. But when it happens on Sunday and I must miss Mass, I find myself asking, “Why, God? Why today? Don’t you want me to go to Mass?”
God subtly gets his point across
Throughout my life I have many times been reminded of Sister Gregory, my favorite teacher’s comment that God has a sense of humor.
Grand Mom is still ‘plugging away’
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Editor’s note: We are pleased to welcome back our popular “Grand Mom” columnist, Audrey Mettel Fixmer. We published her last column in November of 2012. This week she explains some of the challenges she has faced in the past 14 months. We hope that Audrey will continue to share her wisdom with us as often as possible. God bless you, Audrey!
Our wonderful editor, Mary Uhler, phoned me a couple of weeks ago to tell me that so many of my faithful readers inquired about me that she felt obliged to offer an excuse for my absence.
Learning to cook with ‘appeal’
My late husband taught me two important lessons about cooking.
When I confessed to him a few weeks before our wedding that I knew nothing about cooking (zilch!), he advised me in his typical philosophical manner, “There are two ways to look upon the challenge of cooking: one as an art, which requires creative talent, and the other as a science, which requires a cookbook. Get a cookbook.”
Catholic education provided for generations
“Don’t you want to be a teacher?” asked my friend Joan just weeks before we were to graduate from Madonna High School in Aurora, Ill.
This was the all-girls’ class of 1945, where we were taught by Franciscans Sisters. We had both been accepted by St. Ben’s in Minnesota, where we would be taught by Benedictines.
I was confused. “What do you mean, a teacher? I don’t want to be a nun, you know.”
Grand Mom shares her ‘happy ending tips’
Are you checking out the obituaries every day like Mark Twain did to see if you are on the list?
Or do you just average the ages to hopefully find some of the deceased are older than you? Either way, it’s a sure sign that you’re aware that you aren’t getting any younger. You are nearing the finish line. Ouch!
‘Vision’ becomes better with age
One of the benefits of aging is that our vision improves so much.
What? You say you have more trouble reading the fine print on prescription bottles? And you need stronger light bulbs and magnifying glasses?
Oh, sure, but that’s not the kind of vision I’m thinking about. I’m thinking of hindsight. You know, they always say that hindsight is 20-20.
So here’s what’s so great about it. We have perspective now. We can look back at the things that drove us crazy with worry, like a messy house when guests arrived. But now we know that it was never the picture-perfect house that mattered, but the warmth of our hospitality.
Funerals: Not a time for remorse but celebration
When I was a kid back in the 30s and 40s, Grandma often came for a visit, always dressed in black, and usually it was a funeral that brought her to town.
I thought that was so weird. Did she enjoy funerals? Was that the only thing on her social calendar?
Well, guess what? I’ve arrived at that age when I open the paper first to the obituary page. First I check out to see if there’s someone I know. Then, I average the ages to see how I’m doing.
On a good day I’m younger than any of them. On a bad day I’m older. Too often, it seems, I find a friend has passed and I feel a stab of pain for the spouse and I want to express my sympathy and attend the funeral.
Final salvation at last
When I recently attended the funeral of my dear friend Betty, it occurred to me that funerals are really good for us seniors. They remind us of our own mortality, of course.
Exercising isn’t just for the ‘young’ anymore
“If I knew then what I know now” is a common opener for us senior citizens.
It is especially appropriate for things involving health care . . . the benefits of regular exercise, for example.
Granted, our Mamas got lots of exercise hanging out laundry, the Papas didn’t have power lawn mowers, and the kids didn’t get rides to school. Everybody walked everywhere.
Playtex or Jack LaLanne?
I just wish I had heard about exercise during my childbearing years in the late 40s and early 50s.
I expected to get back into shape by pulling on a Playtex rubber girdle. (Oh, the memory of sweating through that one!)