Aging and the Arctic Blast

by Barbara Anne Radtke

My apartment complex is like a small village.  Taking out the trash, recycling, and picking up packages are communal activities.  The closest trash compactor is a short walk in good weather. The recycling area is a longer walk or ride to the edge of the property.  The package room, where deliveries of online purchases are received, is in the club house. It can sometimes be a place to chat as we pick through packages, sort of like the office water cooler.

Winter can change the quality of this village life.  Yesterday I was navigating my way through an ocean of drenched asphalt dotted with small islands of melting ice and snow. I felt like I was Shackleton on his trans-Antarctic expedition. I suddenly remembered an experience from grade school.  It was a day when our teacher was marching us from the school to the church, which was a few blocks away.  This walk was always an adventure, but on this day it was great fun. The temperature had finally moderated so that the snow and ice piled on the sides of the streets and walks were beginning to melt. As I stepped off the curb to cross the street, my foot slipped. I slid on a snow pile that had been pounded into ice with a thin layer of water on top. It was like a surprise slide.  The kids laughed. I enjoyed it (except for the wet uniform skirt). Not to be bested, a few boys in the class took a tumble, too. It was fourth grade fun. How different it is six or seven decades later, when fear of falling and its consequences make such a landscape a perilous parfait of snow and ice.

This time of life now calls for planning and calculating the potential cost for doing menial chores like taking out the trash. It calls for major deliberation of whether to meet with a friend as planned because the brick walkway of the restaurant, so picturesque in summer, may be difficult to maneuver in winter.  It calls for judgment on whether to cancel the dental appointment because, after I find street parking, I may not find a cleared path over the mound of snow between me and the sidewalk. 

This time of life calls for the cultivation of both old and new virtues. The patience we needed for certain situations when we were kids becomes a new kind of patience with ourselves as we deliberate a situation which we just used to take in stride. We need to cultivate agility. Yes, it is good to work on physical agility, but we also need the mental agility to re-assess a situation and come up with new solutions. We need self-compassion as we test limits but try not to make our world smaller than it needs to be.  Finally, we need the joy of anticipation.  The challenges of this season will come to an end. The heat of summer will present new challenges that remind us that, in life, the questions and the problems keep changing.

Perhaps the arctic blast that dug so deeply south this winter did not touch you. Even so, I expect you encountered other challenges. It would be good to hear from you, dear reader, about what new or old virtues helped you cope.

Response by Kathy Hendricks

My husband’s Aunt Julia lived into her mid-90’s and had the most wonderful outlook on life. She once advised me, “Do what you love; just do it slower.” I thought of this as I read your blog, Barbara. It underscores your point about the cultivation of new and old virtues as we move into the later stages of life. Like you, I measure my pace when heading out in icy weather and sometimes opt to stay indoors rather than risk a fall or sliding into a snowbank. There is a certain humility that accompanies such decisions. We no longer have the dexterity to make a slip on the ice into a game and so the need for some sturdy handrails and perhaps a strong arm to lean on become essential. Knowing what we are no longer fit for becomes essential.

I continue to take Aunt Julia’s advice to heart. Slowing down has re-ignited an embrace of patience and provides a fresh ability to be attentive to the simple delights of each day. This morning I spent time looking out the window at freshly fallen snow and a bright, blue Colorado sky. It brought peace and made for a lovely start to the day.