The View from Almost 50, Farewell Duck L'Orange

I'm getting old.

Not ancient. Not feeble. Not "Just set me up in a rocking chair and rub my bunions, please Dearie" old. Just older than I was when I was 30.

Older as in "Wow, I don't bounce back like I used to" older. Older as in "Hip hop?! You call that music? Now, Ella. Billie. That was music. You young people of today have no idea what music is" older. Older as in "Why on earth do I have TWO punch bowl sets?!" older.

The answer to that last question is that I've lived long enough to have friends and family even older than me who are now downsizing and, bless their hearts, they still think I'm young enough to make use of the things they've barely used themselves. Things like punch bowls, warming trays and 40 cup coffee makers.

And that's not counting the inherited stuff I now have squirreled around my home.

Then there is the stuff that wasn't quite inherited but needs to find a home anyway, like the rest of Dad's estate and Michael's things. There has been a lot of dismantling going on around me for a few years now and this past year even moreso. It's daunting, to see how much sheer material volume even one closet can hold, much less a room, a house, a garage...

And each piece needs to be weighed...for sentimental value, functional value, resale value, donation value...every single screwdriver, spoon, and bag full of "twist ties", along with that collection of unmarked spare keys. Every pair of tweezers, tea cup and scrap of paper with cryptic scribbled notes in handwriting you know you won't be seeing any more of, not to mention the entire contents of the infamous "junk drawer".

It can be overwhelming physically, mentally and emotionally.

Despite being immersed in the process of dismantling multiple estates simultaneously I have had my wrestling points when it comes to my own "stuff". Like many people, I come from a long line of "this will come in handy when..." folk. When my Mom sent the list this week of kitchenware items she is clearing out as she prepares to move later this summer, I had a flash of "that would be perfect for when I host those big holiday parties" thoughts run through my head. I'll admit I was tempted by the warming tray (which was filled with Swedish Meatballs in my mind's eye, though I've never made a single one in my life and doubt I ever will).

And then there are the Julia Child cookbooks. The big clay roaster.

I put in my dibs like the rest of my siblings and then I remembered: I don't have a big family and the family I do have isn't really all that close. My siblings have all gravitated toward their in-laws so we don't have a hub on "our side". I don't have kids so I won't have grandkids. I have a husband and a dog.

As for Julia Child, I've barely made a dent in my own cookbooks. I don't really need her to sit on my shelf and mock me no matter how much I secretly wanted to learn how to make a perfect Duck L'Orange.

At this point in my limited life I'm letting some dreams go.

If I have the time to learn French cooking I think I'd rather be spending that time with my husband on our bikes. I can't do both.

Of course, that's not entirely true. Some people rule nations. Some raise 19 kids and counting. With a little dedication, discipline and time management, I could surely learn to cook a duck properly and bike to the river and back.

The thing is, I don't want to. And THAT realization is awesome. With age, I believe, is coming sanity. Besides, have you ever seen what roasting a duck does to the inside of an oven? Who needs it? (My God, I think I'm becoming my Grandmother!)

I remember what it was like when I was in my 30's and wanted to sample every last drop of life. I squeezed every bit I could out of every minute of the day and had goals set for the next 20 years. I was never bored for a minute and was voracious in my attempt to learn and master everything I had an interest in. I loved life!

I was also miserable. I never felt like I was doing enough. I was an ever expanding one-woman Universe and still felt like I was letting too much of life slip by unsampled. Too many things I tried were left unmastered and I always felt like I was failing as a result.

And then I was forced to slow waaaay down as I watched some people I adored come to the end of their lives and I had to wipe 95% of what I was carrying off my plate in order to do that well. It was worth every waylaid plan, particularly as I assumed I would pick back up with "my own life" later. 

I had underestimated how much of a process there remains for the living to go through when a life ends.

In addition to the emotional process of dealing with the losses, when those lives ended and all their stuff was left behind I got to sit with it all. Every saved date book (I met Michael on 10/11/1990 in case you were wondering), every cup full of pens and pencils, every rake and garden hoe, every set of towels, each computer back up disc and sheet of Sierra Club return address labels. I saw what was used and what was saved. What dreams never reached their fruition. What was well-used and what was saved for...a later that never came, a party that was never thrown, a repair that was never needed, a garden bed that was never laid, and the kids that turned out to not really want some of those things after all...

It changed the way I felt about my own home. About time vs. money. Stuff vs. people. The way I am actually living today vs. how I envision it might be someday. (Swedish meatballs?Really?!)

I even toyed with the idea that I needed to save my parents' things for my nieces and nephews before it dawned on me that they have parents who can do that for them. My nieces and nephews will have enough to do going through MY stuff when I go. And after dealing with my Dad's house, I'm already in the process of trying to make dismantling my own estate easier for them, labelling things, getting rid of excess, organizing boxes. I'm just being realistic, I won't have more energy to do this when I'm 75, even if I do have the health.

So I wrote back to my Mom and took back my "dibs". She has lovely things, and it was a generous offer but the TRUTH is I want for nothing. I don't want a single thing. Never once have I gone to make breakfast and found myself saying, "If only I had a large cast iron frying pan right now."

"Not even the cookbooks? You still want Julia Child, don't you?"

"No, Ma, not even the cookbooks."

Anyone out there want a punch bowl?

Comments

[Peter]

Nice piece, and I concur entirely about the "stuff." But, hey... what's wrong with Swedish Meatballs?!

[Laura]

Oh, don't get me wrong, I love a good Swedish Meatball but if I haven't made one in nearly 50 years and they never cross my mind unless someone says "Ikea" or "Nick Hjalmarsson is cooking at Meijer's again" I'm probably not going to get around to it. It was funny that my mental image of warming tray was linked to Swedish Meatballs like suddenly this is part of my master plan. Very 50's hostess of me, don't you think?
Did I mention I also have a fondue pot?

[Peter]

Oh, I thought maybe Scott objected because they weren't Norwegian meatballs.

Fondue pot! Very cool... for 1972.

[Laura]

Oh, he's a half-breed (Mom is a Swede). It's the Finlanders that can't be trusted.

Hey 1972 was an awesome year for me. Mom hadn't taken to the Greg Brady look for me.

[Neoangel02]

Well, maybe it's because I'm almost 30... or maybe it's that my mom's almost your age, anyway, this REALLY made me think a lot of things. I guess I'll have to wait and discover things on my own. Meanwhile I'm still trying to sample as many things as I can. Guess that's the way I am. Orange juice flavored kisses L

[Laura]

I'm still getting used to hearing some of my friends tell me that their mothers are almost as old as me. When you don't have kids you don't have those benchmarks of aging that parents do. I haven't seem my kid graduate from kindergarten, let alone college. I keep forgetting that I am old enough to be...let me just say it...Patrick Sharp's mother.

So, now that I have recovered (and forgiven you my dear Neoangel)...

What is funny is that the trade for me has been quality over quantity and realizing that I can't have both. I think for a long time I thought I could but it just isn't possible as one person. So while I've tapered back a lot in the breadth of my life, the depth is beautiful and much easier for me to enjoy.
I've seen some of the best concerts in the coolest venues here in the last couple years, and have eaten some meals that have made me swoon. I've seen the most gorgeous views on my beach walks and have the coolest little beach glass collection started. I still get a thrill when I see the first wood duck return to the marsh. I don't have anywhere near the money I did when I was in my 30's so I don't go out as much but when I do it's wonderful. I appreciate the experiences I have, choose them carefully and am increasingly selective about how I spend my time.
I'm less social than I used to be but when you look at the relationships I have and have had, like Michael, I mean, how many drops of perfume do you need? Sometimes just one is enough.
So it's beautiful but I do think it is a kind of appreciation that comes with age. That sounds so cliche, but I don't think it would have been possible for me to appreciate things the way I do now when I had money and energy to burn. I've learned the value of both in a way I just didn't seem able to before.
I don't think "youth is wasted on the young". I don't envy younger people for what they have that I don't any more. I just think it's all beautiful. I'm enjoying every season. The key is to be aware of when your seasons have changed I think. I'm not in the Spring of my life anymore, or coming on to summer like you. I'm more early autumn. Just a few seeds for the future starting to ripen and hit the ground, maybe. Just a couple, I don't want to make it sound like I'm older than I am, either, but this hair is getting awfully grey.
Point to all of this is that it's good. It's good to be aware of when it's time to shift modes and to embrace it.
So you, dear boy, play and dance with your life like crazy! And keep the kisses coming for this old gal. Orange coffee kisses coming right back to you from damp, gloomy, chilly Chicago...

[Jacqui]

perfect ..... i raise you your two punch bowls with my two fondue sets! i'm also loving this slowing down and savouring every mouthful time. Cheers to Autumn. " depth rather than breadth " mmm .... you put it all so well and make me think about things from different perspectives ... thank you! big hugs and lots of love on your journey xxxx