"We Are the General Girls"

Regina General Hospital and Nurses Residence

Each year we gather, still standing although our Nurses Residence and Hospital are gone with the tick of the clock. Vanished into a parking lot. Our numbers have gotten smaller with the passing of time but we are still laugh, visit, reminisce, and sing. Family stories have become histories. What once was career, advanced education and travel, is now full of grandchildren and great grandchildren, nephews and nieces ~ ~ and travel. At the end of our gathering each year we sing our school song: “We Are the General Girls!” some voices not quite as strong, but all still full of the joy and hard work of our nursing years.

“Our fingerprints don’t fade from the lives we touch.”

~ Judy Blume, author

Things I Did Understand

Things I did understand ~

questions unanswered 

asking why of no use because 

the answer was ‘because’ 

But when those ideas floated away 

I understood crayons, 

cartoon shapes to colour, 

dresses to cut out with the little tabs

Then I could

design ball gowns

for paper dolls

colour inside the lines

just right for this little girl 

bright crayons within my reach

What I understood was that 

I didn’t need to know any more 

than what the next picture needed, 

which doll I should cut out.

But I filled expectations, 

like setting the table for a meal, 

practicing piano or 

getting cleaned up for church, 

going to school. 

I did understand that I was ‘growing up’ 

but didn’t know that meant 

more than how tall I was.

Today in retirement I am still ‘growing up.’

“If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.”

~ Tom Stoppard

(English dramatist)

Out on a Limb

Out on a limb 

I swing and sway 

whether wind is

north or south, 

east or west.

I learn to balance, 

or just hang on 

with faith that 

my strength will 

keep me safe.

When retirement comes, 

and wild winds change, 

I’m given a choice ~

to stay out on the limb,

or choose another tree.

“A human being is a deciding being.”

~ Viktor E. Frankl, M.D.

(1905 - 1997)

Tracks of My Life

Gracing the memory tracks of life, 

   the many phases of growing up 

     to these retirement years. 

There was a time 

when my adult mind stood before

   this child, 

     this adolescent, 

       this young adult 

In stern admonition said

 ‘You should have known better!’ 

to stay safe in the slippery ways of life

      mentally

        emotionally

          physically

when, with each phase,

I had only taken sips of knowledge

until I knew that I was grown 

 capable of more

  curious to learn more 

    eager to fill my cup to the brim.

Gracing the memory tracks of my life 

  with humility and understanding 

     these stages of my life have been set free.

“Grace is a power that comes in and 

transforms a moment into something better.”

~ Caroline Myss, 

(Genre: Health, Mind, & Body)

Suspended

Nestling into the corner of the sofa 

just vacated by my kitty,

I have a good book to read, 

my big warm socks on my icy feet

and a fleece blanket to get cosy under. 

Time has hung suspended, 

and I still don’t know how 

to manage life in retirement ~ 

I’m willing to keep practicing 

~ until I get it right. 

“Retirement, a time to enjoy all the things 

you never had time to do when you worked.”

~ Catherine Pulsifer, author

Again

Again

“I’m too old to start again.” Standing at the mirror, a full length one at that, Adele agreed with her reflection.“So, we won’t. We’ll start something much bigger. Just you and I.” Adele Marie Wilmington had been a successful business woman. Retirement came to her with a surprise. She, and her staff, thought she would be carried out the door before she would accept retirement. The clothing design company had been her baby. From her mother’s kitchen table designing ball gowns for paper dolls to school fashion shows and on to a Master’s Degree in Fashion Design, she never stopped looking at clothes and fabrics. Often quoted with her directive to staff: “You can’t have one without the other. Fabric makes the garment and the garment makes the fabric.” There was one day when she knew she was done with the whole business. She had a special love for natural fabrics: real cotton, real wool, real silk. Business models had made it necessary that she bowed to the synthetic world of fabric. So much so that even business felt false and synthetic. When she heard herself being called a legend, and ‘the grand dame of fashion’, at first she was proud but slowly she heard it in a different light. For some she’d been put on a pedestal, for others……well, she saw the smirks, overheard one or two snide comments about ‘too old’. Most of her contemporaries had either retired to Florida or some island in the Caribbean. Unfortunately she’d had to attend too many funerals. The C.E.O.’s she dealt with were young enough to be her children and even one her granddaughter. The day she retired, she came out of her office above the cutting room floor and called for silence. A very large room, it took the supervisors time to rush around and have all scissors and measuring tapes put down. The models, in various states of undress or draped in Adele’s cherished fabrics, impatiently did as they were told. She spoke into a microphone “I have an announcement to make, but first I want to thank everyone for your hard work. I know some of you have been here since I began this company. Your leadership bringing everyone else on board has been invaluable. For everyone else who has joined us, you have made this company what it has become. My dream.” A catch in her throat, she hesitated, dabbed her eyes with her ever present delicate cotton handkerchief. Continuing she said “Today, I am retiring effective 5pm. I will no longer be in the office but will work from home until I decide who should take over from me. My secretary, Annie Fitzgerald, will be in charge along with the floor supervisors.” A gasp rose from the floor in unison. Then the murmurs about who and what and why today began. Adele clapped her hands. “Everyone, please, return to your work. My office door will be open for anyone that has questions or concerns.” Her secretary had been informed that morning of an ‘announcement’ and had a light lunch and coffee ready for her employer. Adele’s office, at the level of a second floor suite, had a small balcony where she retired to after the tension of her bold action. There, looking out over a city park, she breathed deeply of the air that felt fresher, even with any traffic fumes. Her shoulders felt lighter. She hugged herself, preventing herself from cheering to the people below, like Scrooge on Christmas morning.

Now here she was at home, her shocking white hair pulled back in her signature bun, wearing a long, flowing white silk caftan, gold slippers showing her pedicured toes. “What big thing are we going to do?” She and her reflection laughed out loud. “We’re going shopping for crayons and paper dolls. If I have to go to Toronto, Vancouver, Paris or New York City to find just the right ones, that’s what we’ll do. I have to find myself all over again because none of us are ever too old for that.”

“It’s never too late to go out and get that feeling back.”

~ Loretta Switt

Chapter Two, Episode 136 - A World Outside - Situationally Theirs

A World Outside  

Martha and James Digby had discussed retirement in the past. It wasn’t until Martha took charge and asked Miss Emelina about reducing her hours that James started think of it seriously. Neither of them felt like they were too old to keep on working. Neither of them had taken much time for themselves. They had not seen a world outside the Estate other than trips up Island or the one time they went to visit James’ brother Thom on the mainland. It was that trip that had Martha thinking of more than the idyllic setting they shared. As young people, the pair started working together at the same time. For Martha it was most of her life, James had lived on the Estate all of his life. Of course there was a brief sojourn in University as a young man. It was so long ago that it barely counted as anything but a memory. They had always had a comfortable life, but as she grew older, Martha became restless. She never wanted to be far from her daughter and her grandchildren but something niggled at her. She would find herself staring out the big living room window at the lane that led from their cottage. Always knowing where it led, to another road and into the city, along the ocean and away. Putting down her dust cloth, she went to the garage and picked up her gardening tools. Outside she started weeding and planting along the sides of the little lane extending from their driveway. She was careful not to disturb the crocus’ blooming in the grasses and beneath wild brush. To start with, that seemed enough. As long as her eyes watched her hands dig and plant and pat the soil around the low growing ground cover, she felt at peace. Straightening her stiff joints, she stood to scatter wild flower seed in the shallow ditches.

One day, when James was away in Hartley meeting with his personal accountant, Martha had taken her beautification project a little farther down the lane. Finished the section she had been working on, she had taken off her flowered garden gloves and set them with her tools. Rather than picking them up to return to their quaint cottage, she just started to walk down the lane and down the road. No plan in mind, she just wanted to walk. Stopping to pull a weed or to watch a robin pulling a worm from the soft shoulder, she loved the feeling of the lowering sun, the wind ruffling her hair.  She hummed a long forgotten childhood tune. Martha, a pragmatic woman, was not prone to wandering on her own. Even as a child, she had wanted nothing more than her family around her. Growing up the oldest of three children with two brothers, she had become a second mother to them. Her own mother worked hard. A single mother, she organized her home, entrusting Martha to keep order when she was at one of her two, sometimes three, jobs. Her mother had no pay benefits or the reliability of one steady job. Martha had vowed to make her life different. “Hmmm…..is that why I’ve never thought of traveling? Because I’m too safe here?” She turned, surprised she had walked so far from the cottage, her gardening tools a mere speck at the side of the lane. The wind had picked up, blowing her hair in complete disarray. Clouds were rolling in from the ocean, muddying what had been a clear, warm day. Pulling her sweater close, she started back. In the distance the sound of a car caught her ear. “Oh, my! I hope whoever that is doesn’t think I’m some vagrant wanting a lift!” Stepping off the road, she realized it was their car. Relieved she stood on tiptoe and waved.

James had seen someone on the road, but couldn’t make out who it was or if he knew the person. There was seldom anyone on this road to the cottage. He slowed for a moment. As he approached he realized it was his wife! “What on earth is she doing out here?’ Picking up speed, he saw her wave. “I should just drive on by as if I hadn’t seen her. I think I will.” Eyes straight ahead, he kept right on driving, but shortly pulled to the side of the road. James was not prone to levity. Control was part of him after his years of butler-ing. Breathing heavily, Martha opened the passenger door and climbed in, setting her gardening things on the floor. “James Digby! Why didn’t you stop? I know you saw me.” Martha was very glad to see her husband. The clouds were threatening a downpour and she didn’t even have an umbrella. A twinkle in his eye, he said. “ I thought you were some vagrant out wandering.” Martha frowned and grinned. “You did not. You knew perfectly well it was me!” 

~~~~~

Martha had left a chicken stew simmering in the crockpot. While she was washing up, James made dumplings and set the table. While they waited for the dumplings to cook, they shared a pot of tea and began telling each other about their day. Their curiosities and hopes for their ‘golden years’. Still hesitant to really see themselves in retirement, they reminisced about ideas almost forgotten. Rain had been short lived. Hand in hand, they took a quiet walk in the cool, humid evening air.

~~~~~

“….everything has a past. Everything - a person, an object, a word, everything. If you don’t know the past, you can’t understand 

the present and plan properly for the future.”

~ Chaim Potok, Davita’s Harp

Chapter 2, Episode 135 - Never Too Old - Situationally Theirs

Never Too Old

“Martha, do you remember Malcolm from years ago?” Digby was about to go into his office. He and Martha had come in to work and had just had their morning coffee with Elizabeth. “No, should I?” She was getting organized for a meeting she had scheduled with Emelina. Nervous and a bit distracted about the upcoming meeting, she couldn’t really recall anyone by that name. “Malcolm? I’m not even sure I know anyone by that name.” 

“Oh well, we were much busier then so you may not have met him. We called on him to deliver goods to us, or if we needed large packages delivered elsewhere.” Martha was too quiet. Looking at his wife, he recognized a troubled look on her face. Concerned he stopped and asked “What is it, Martha? You look troubled. Just now, with Elizabeth you seemed fine.” Martha smoothed her face and was about to say that everything really was fine, but everything was about to come tumbling down. She was sure of it. “James, you and I have talked about retiring. I’ve finally decided to do something about it. I’m sorry I haven’t talked with you about my decisions before now.” James sat back down. “Well, I’m here now. Let’s talk about this decision you’ve made. Will it affect me?”

Martha didn’t know what to say, how to say it. “It probably will, but not in a bad way. At least I hope not………..I have an appointment with Miss Emelina in an hour. I’m going to ask if I can have my hours reduced. There is so little to do here anymore and I can come in whenever she needs me. I really want to get to making our cottage more of a home for us rather than just a place to eat and sleep. I want to garden and take care of our little yard so it doesn’t get all raggedy like it did last year. And there's a quilting group I'd like to join ~ something I haven't done for years.” James sat back in his chair, surprised she’d never mentioned it before. Their hours were very flexible and they could come and go as they pleased. “Why are you nervous about it? Miss Emelina has not insisted that we be here at certain times, just as long as we take care of our duties.” Martha sighed and patted James’ hand. “That’s what bothers me. Our duties. I don’t know about yours, but I have so few duties anymore. I just come in to chat with Elizabeth. At least that’s what it feels like. I'd like to come in twice a week on certain days, and come in if there’s something special that Miss Emelina wants organized. But even then I could probably do it on the days I do work.”

Elizabeth, Cook to most people outside of the Estate, returned to the table drying her hands on her apron. “I know what you’re talking about, Martha. That old fridge and stove have never been more clean since we got back from pandemic lockdown. The Pantry is half empty, but I keep it spotless as well. Some days I cook just to have something to do. Once we’re getting things from the garden, it keeps me busier. Samuel’s taking more of the produce to the Food Bank than in the past when I was feeding more people.”

Martha sat up straight. “That’s who Malcolm is! He helped Samuel every year taking food to the Food Bank or what ever else he needed. Am I right, James?” He was nodding. “Yes indeed, Martha. He was sometimes out here helping to pick apples as well. He’d take the seconds to the Food Bank along with the other produce.”

Conversation turned to this Malcolm. “Yes, I remember him too, James. He delivered the very chairs we’re sitting on. If we needed anything, that’s who we called. The pandemic put us out of touch with so many folks.” Elizabeth was glad the conversation had turned away from retirement. Even if she had done more cleaning than in the past, she had a wonderful kitchen to cook in. That had been one of her childhood dreams. When she saw her mother fighting with her old stove and always needing the refrigerator fixed, she just wanted a good kitchen. “James, what brought up Malcolm? Did we ever know his last name?”

James was glad that Martha had relaxed, hoping that her request to their employer would be received favourably. “Well, he called me the other day. Wants me to mentor his nephew about my job. I told him that we didn’t do much out here any more, but he was quite insistent. So I agreed, one day a week, to let his nephew  - I believe his name is Phillip - come out here and I would teach him what I could. As far as his last name, I don’t recall it but I’m sure if I look up an old invoice I’ll have it. Phillip is coming tomorrow at 9. Elizabeth you’ll be here if I’m late? We’ll probably have coffee, or tea if that’s what he prefers, and then I’ll give him a tour of the place. If he wants to know about butler-ing we’ll start there.”

“Oh, good. Someone to cook for besides just the three of us and anyone else on the Estate. I’ll start getting your lunches ready today and make scones in the morning. I get here at 7 so, will have time and they’ll be fresh and warm for you.” The atmosphere in the kitchen went up a few notches with the excitement of having a new face coming among them. 

“Well, ladies, time for me to get to the office and Miss Emelina should be here anytime now for your appointment.” James got up from the table, leaned on the back of his chair and said. “If this young man really wants to work out here, I may just see about having my hours cut back too.”

~~~~~

Later that evening at their cottage, James and Martha Digby, started sketching their plans for travel and for creating a home together they had never had. They had worked many years together, been married for two years and now wanted more. Martha’s meeting with Emelina had gone well. She’d now be working only Tuesdays and Fridays, coming in if she was needed. James would be mentoring his friend’s nephew with hopes that it would help them develop their new life. 

“You are never too old to set a new goal or dream a new dream.”

~ C.S. Lewis

Tag Along Balance

When a career of caring ends

its door left cracked open so

all the little ways and means

of doing things can tag along 

until balance begins anew

veering away from boredom

avoiding potholes on new paths

breathing deep of freer air

leaning into a new pillowed life

and never forgetting to care.

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

~ L. Frank Baum

There Are No Steps

There are no steps 

that a child won’t try to climb

Climbing far into retirement, the steps

seem to get higher and scarier

I’m not talking about stair steps!

It's the steps to keep me growing

that whisper to my heart

‘don’t bother trying’

But! There are no steps……

I’ll just be carefuller!

“The job of feets is walking, but their hobby is dancing.”

~ Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words