THE CONDOMINIUM

There is a digger pine down by the lake
It leans, the branches sag, its trunk is two feet thick
The tree is old, it has a tired stance –
Yet in the upper limbs the place is jumping
Blue herons, egrets and some cormorants
Have made the pine their home –
Despite its insubstantial look.
We call this tree the condominium.

The herons and the egrets when they come
Must circle, sometimes several times
Before they make their landing on the fragile
Twigs of branches. They clap their wings
To gain precarious balance and
To let the other tenants know they’re home.
Sometimes they misgauge their space.
Great cries erupt when this occurs.
The branches shake as these long legged birds
Assert their ownership
Of each exclusive limb.

We worry when rain heavy storms with screaming winds
Descend upon the neighborhood -
The lake becomes a tiny sea with waves.
At times it overflows its banks.

We think the digger pine just isn’t safe,
Its branches loaded with the nests of birds.
We wonder – is its lean a little more acute?
Has seepage undermined the roots?
Should not the birds find better, stronger trees
In which to raise their young?
Or will their instincts tell them
When the tree begins to
Tip too much
And fall uprooted.

BLOOD AND DONUTS

Yesterday was my day to donate to the Blood Source. http://www.bloodsource.org/ This might be considered a generous act, and perhaps it is, but I have to admit to ulterior motives!

First, when you are my age, there isn’t much of you that people want any more – I’m too old to be even tested for bone marrow, my eyes are dim, my donatable organs have been pretty much used, although I proudly carry my donor card. The blood bank loves my blood – and they love my platelets even more. They call me up when its time for me to donate, they thank me profusely even before I have made the appointment.

Yesterday, as I walked in to be interviewed, I was handed a certificate for a “pint for a pint” of Baskin Robbins ice cream. (http://www.baskinrobbins.com/) I now have almost enough to have my own ice cream social. All I need are the strawberries, bananas, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, pineapple, nuts and cherries. I have a stunning variety of tee shirts from the blood bank! Then, since I am a platelet donor, I get weighed. That is, perhaps, for me, the hardest part of donating platelets. They never weighed me when I gave whole blood. They took my word for my weight, which remained unchanged year after year, despite all visible evidence to the contrary. So I take off my shoes, glasses, watch, etc. and close my eyes while they do this.

Giving platelets takes longer, from one to two hours depending on how many they are taking. They settled me in and gave me a choice of movies – a huge choice of movies. Yesterday they were doing one unit of platelets and one of packed red blood cells, so I didn’t think 67 minutes was time enough for a movie. Retired people are particularly valuable platelet donors – because we have the time. With platelets we can give more often. There it is – another senior advantage. It is not every day I get the chance to lie back and read a good book for 67 minutes.

Blood bank people are amazing. The phlebotomists (great word!) have never missed with me. The 67 minutes pass quickly.

Then comes the really good part – the donuts. Only when I give blood can I justify eating a wonderful, sinful, donut! As I sit savoring each bite, I pick up a heart shaped sticker that says “Be nice to me today, I gave blood”. I attach it to my forehead for the ride home.

I have now given 79 units of blood. (You get extra credit – two for one – for donating platelets or packed red cells.)(Women are no longer allowed to give plasma at our blood bank). One more pint of blood and I will have given ten gallons – and will be eligible for the Blood Source’s annual dinner. Fred has offered to take me out to dinner for no blood, and I must say I’ve taken him up on that lots of times – but this dinner will be special. I will wear a blood source tee shirt!

THE EARLY BIRD AND ALL THAT FOOLISHNESS

A typical garden on our walk

Every morning, as part of my senior fitness program, I get up at six in order to walk at seven with my friend and neighbor, Rosemary. Although we are both retired, we walk early to beat the heat. Before I leave the house I turn on the whole house fan, and by the time I get home an hour later, it is time to close up the house and turn off the fan, as the temperature outside is already rising to a less than comfortable level.

Rosemary is walking as part of her training for a pilgrimage across Spain. I am walking to stave off old age. This week Rosemary is off learning Spanish. I am forced to exert enormous amounts of self discipline, and walk on my own. So far, two days out of two, I have done that.

Later in the day, when I treat myself to something delicious and sinful, I justify my excesses by the fact that I have walked. When my children succumb to the temptation to raise their parents, I can tell them that I have walked. We’re proud of you, they say.

We pass some spectacular yards and gardens on our walk. I am impressed by the creativity and talent of my neighbors. My plants struggle to survive. If there were a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Plants, I think my plants would turn me in.

Inspired by my neighbors, Fred and I bought some plants in pots. We think our soil is unhealthy,

home to lots of moles and gophers and other root eating creatures. Pots supply the instant gratification we crave – none of this waiting for seeds to germinate. We have lined our walk with gopher-proof wine barrels and deer resistant flowering plants in pots.

Our friendly gophers

Each day we are barked at or sniffed by dogs, glared at by families of wild turkeys, honked at by families of geese. We watch some neighbors retrieve their morning papers, and others leave for work. We gloat a bit that we don’t have to do that any more, although both of us secretly miss the work we did. As we discuss our plans for the day, we marvel at how very full our days are, and wonder how we ever had time for work in the first place.

Soon Rosemary will be walking with her backpack. Not me. I shall admire her stamina in much the same way as I admire my neighbors’ gardens.

Rosemary, next week

Deer

Three doe are standing in our yard

They’ve eaten up the roses – that was last spring

One is just now stretching up To eat some privet leaves.

She balances for just a bit on her hind legs,

To reach the berries well above her head.

Another licks and grooms the smaller doe

Perhaps her daughter – spotted fawn of just a year ago.

She licks her face, cleans out her ears -

Suddenly she turns,

Ears shaped like stalks extend

And point at me.

I think the deer hear sounds we’ve never heard -

Miles away or just beneath the ground -

I wonder what our yard sounds like to them.

The doe who ate the leaves is tired now,

She folds herself down upon the grass.

Head high, ears up, she chews and sniffs

and turns her head and sniffs again

Discerning odors I have never smelt

Do deer dislike aromas we abhor?

Do they judge the world they see and hear and smell

As good or bad - or only, is it safe?

I watch the mother deer lift up her right rear leg

And scratch her chin.

The mourful cries of coyotes pierce the night -

I saw one once, walking down our road

At dusk,

He turned and looked at me with yellow eyes.

I wished him well.

Mountain lions, too, live not too far from us

Sleek, gold majestic creatures, like the deer, astute

In all their senses, searching prey to keep their

Cubs alive.

Sometimes our deer are gone a day or two

Sometimes a week – I watch for them -

And when the deer return, I thank my God

For keeping them unharmed for one more day.

And then I wonder what kind of God it is

That fills the world with predators and prey?

Weighty Thoughts by Kay

Have you ever wondered what would happen
If our domestic cats
Had opposing thumbs?
If they could open up the doors
Of cupboards and refrigerators?
If they could help themselves
To tuna fish?

And dogs - I watched my neighbors riding bikes
With their dog, Jake, panting, right behind
I read his thoughts (I do that well, you know)
“These folks of mine they just don’t understand.
All week long they’re lazy, sit around, won’t play,
And then on Saturday they say ‘Let’s exercise!'
But do they walk or run so’s I can match their pace?
Oh, no, they ride their bikes, start off down hill
Expecting me to run along behind, and never think
That I’m a dog that needs to stretch
Before I sprint!”

GHOSTS

The telephone no longer rings

A quick call from Audrey, wondering

If I'd like to go with her to Nordstrums

To return a blouse

Or need a ride to book club -

Maybe this time we won't get lost.

She didn't like the book.

I don't have breakfast with Elaine

At seven in the smoking part of Denny's

Before we go to work.

(No one smokes at Denny's any more).

The King Size Kents Elaine once smoked

Destroyed her.

I see my mother in my children's kids

As they devour the latest paper back,

Or lose themselves in the delight of wondering

What an ant is thinking -

Seeing living things not quite the way

That other people do.

I don't call Mother when I'm stuck

On Sunday's crossword puzzle.

I don't write my father every Saturday

(and try to catch the mail before it comes)

I don't tell him about the kids and grandkids -

How his namesake Guy's decided that he's Buddhist

And Steffi's playing saxophone in band,

About when I'll be flying east to visit.

The last time I saw Leonard

(You know, the one who came into my office

And told me jokes he thought my father'd like)

He asked if I could sit and talk with him

Just for a moment, he had things to say -

I couldn't, though, I had someplace to go -

He died just two days after that.

Wii Fit for Seniors

First of all – let me clarify. At 73 I’m really not a senior, I’m in the second half of middle age.

Now that that’s clear, here I am, hurtling down a ski jump at 50 mph, knees bent, – I reach the lip of the jump and I’m off, leaning forward, skis together, perfect form, and wow – I made 270 feet. The best part of that is I don’t have to climb the steps to the top of the lift to jump again.

Fred and I gave each other a Wii console, including the Wii Fit for our 50th anniversary. Like many people my age my great fear is falling. A sprain, tear or break could lead to a pretty radical change in life style, and I don’t want that to happen to me.

So, with the Wii Fit, I stand on the balance board and do a series of exercises that not only improve my balance (believe it or not I can stand on one leg now!) but I can do yoga, aerobics and strength exercises in my living room. Each day as I get on I am measured, and my balance is evaluated. I am given a “Wii Fit” age, and a few times I’ve even been in my 20’s. I have a choice of personal trainers who give me encouragement. “Well done” they say, or “It looks like you’ve had trouble with that one. Keep trying.”

The animated trainers are depressingly agile, but I mind it less than I think I would with real people at a gym. In my living room, I’m not competing with slender young women in the early part of middle age.

I love the balance exercises, the salaam skiing and ski jumping. I’ve done pretty well with the snow board, too. I am terrible at the hula hoop, but I am full of admiration for my granddaughter, Elizabeth, who at 7 is a real pro. Ten year old Nate is best at the push up/plank exercises. In fact, it is Nate’s record that I try to beat ski jumping. That isn’t likely to happen any time soon. The boxing coach is downright insulting, but I don’t box much in real life anyway.

The Wii Fit was released in May of 2008, and is already the fifth best selling game of all time according to the Wikipedia. Maybe that’s because it’s fun and probably good for you whatever age you are. Combining the regimens of the Wii Fit with my daily walks around the neighborhood, will keep me, I hope, in the latter half of middle age for a long time.

I understand that there is a Wii Fit Plus coming out. I’m happy with what I have, but it’s nice to know that if I tire of it there will be more. I wonder if the Wii Fit Plus will have an upper middle aged slightly overweight personal trainer?