We’re All in This Together
Remember your senior year of high school? The prom, the senior banquet, graduation. Remember calling your friends and asking about their dresses? Who they hoped to go with, what to wear to the senior banquet, and then the rented graduation robe and hat that ruined our poufy hair? We shared every moment and activity with our closest friends and anyone who would listen. We were all in it together, the biggest transition of our lives for most of us, leaving home for college, getting that first job, or maybe entering the military. High schools can be cliquey, but they are also times of bonding around a shared experience.
Then there was that 25th reunion, when many of us came together again to share not only our stories about adulthood, but more importantly, our memories of a time when we were all in it together.
The other day a friend, Carla, and I were talking, and of course the conversation devolved to that painful (pun intended) litany about our aging bodies—eye problems that make it unsafe to drive at night, knees, achy shoulders, hand arthritis, heart issues—if you live in a body and are over 80, there’s probably some component that’s either on the fritz or on its way there. Carla mentioned one of her friends who is getting a knee replacement—but the friend didn’t tell anyone. She believes she needs to tough through it, not bother anyone, etc. Carla reminded her—and me—that we’re all in this aging business together. And we are.
I think of my new bridge group. Most of the members have known each other since they taught together at a local elementary school. There’s a kindness and consideration that I love being part of. Two members, sisters, have tremors, and one of them takes a medication that exacerbates the tremor, such that she needs two hands to bring a coffee cup to her lips. When it’s her turn to host, we help serve, clear the table and do whatever we can. One member fell and broke both ankles, so we took the club to her rehab facility and played bridge in a hallway with a pitcher of water, Styrofoam cups for our coffee, and paper plates for treats. Another member needs us to watch carefully so she doesn’t get lost as she plays the cards. We play bridge, no matter what, and some players are quite good. We also have great fun, supporting each other, including me with my creaky knees who needs time to get up from a chair. We’re all in this together.
But it’s more than supporting each other as we age. Being in it together is part of the human condition. I especially see that living in Minneapolis right now. I am honored to be part of a community where we help each other. One woman decided to collect coats because people are usually released from ICE detention with absolutely nothing but the clothes on their backs, and we’ve had a very cold January. So many coats were donated that she had to find other charities that need coats in other areas.
The nearest public transportation to the ICE detention center is a half mile away—a long walk when it’s cold. So volunteers wait to drive released people home, even though sometimes people are released in the middle of the night. At my son’s school, teachers put together a Christmas for a family that was afraid to leave their home for fear of being detained. The city council found a million dollars of funding for people who can’t pay their rent because they haven’t been able to work (many immigrant businesses have had to close, especially on Eat Street where Pretti was shot.).These are only a few of the ways in which people pitch in, because even if we’re US citizens and not in danger, in Minnesota, we’re all in this together.
Last Wednesday, at the University of Minnesota basketball game, two former players were introduced at half time. We all cheered for one man in his late 50’s who looked fit and trim. He then walked under the basket and wheeled out another player in a wheelchair, wearing his letter jacket from years ago. The announcer told us his name and years that he played and then said that he is battling ALS. Immediately balancing popcorn and drinks and ice cream everyone stood, everyone, even the children and band and students and press, and they clapped. The camera flashed to the player in the wheelchair and threw his image on the scoreboard. He was both sobbing and smiling. The clapping grew deafening, and as we clapped, his smile stretched across his face. Blinking back my tears, I realized again, young and old, we’re all in this together—and we mostly know it.
I have to brag that the Gophers, a nobody team with a new coach and only seven players beat Michigan State, ranked #10. As we left the arena, happily hustling to our cars in the cold, picking our way on the icy sidewalks, I tried to pry my hearing aid out of my ear. I have a bad habit of unconsciously fiddling with it and pushing it deeply into my ear. As I grabbed it, I dropped it. Oh no! Hearing aids are not cheap. How would I find it with everyone speeding to their cars around me. I bent to look. Someone said, “Did you lose something?” I replied, “My hearing aid, and they’re not cheap.” The crowd stopped, literally stopped, and everyone started looking. Within minutes a man found it in a nearby snowbank where apparently it had bounced. “Is this it?” he said handing it to me. . . And we all walked on. It wasn’t just Minnesota nice, it was the humanity that we all share.
As I get older and my body shows it, I am often discouraged. I want to hide my infirmities, but this past month, living in Minnesota, I have realized that we’re all in this life together whether it’s aging or something else. I promise myself not to hide, pretend I’m the Karen I was at forty when I’m not. It’s about accepting myself and doing my part to help others, knowing that we’re all in this together.
Heart Picture from Turgay Koca. Others thanks to ChatGPT
Karens' Descant 