You're Older Than You've Ever Been
And now you're even older....And now you're older still
In February of 2020, I purchased tickets to go see one of my favorite bands, They Might Be Giants, in concert at The Fox Theater in Oakland, California. The show was scheduled for October 9, later that year. A long, long eight months away.
I probably don’t need to explain the obvious and tell you that this show did not happen. When the U.S. shut down in mid-March, it didn’t take long for all live concerts to be postponed or cancelled. At the time, it seemed reasonable to believe that by October, eight long-long-long months after the quarantine, clubs and concert halls would be open again. Sadly, this would not be the case and in fact, the pandemic only worsened, with the availability of vaccines thought to be many months if not years away.
In late September 2020, I received an email from Ticketmaster announcing that the TMBG show would be postponed to 6/5/21. Surely by then things would return to normal, right? Wrong. The concert was once again postponed, this time to 4/30/22.
I bet you’re chomping at the bit to ask me questions about that April, 2022 show. Like, did they play “Birdhouse In Your Soul” from their amazing third album, Flood? What about “I Palindrome I”?
I wish I had answers for you. Unfortunately, a little thing called Omicron and its highly transmissible variants had put the kibosh on that date too. But the show was postponed, not cancelled, with a new and improved date of 4/16/2023. Yes, fourteen days shy of a year later.
That’s 3 years and 2 months from the time I originally bought the tickets to their show. Sure, I’ll have aged from my early 50s to my late 50s in the interim and I’ll likely need new custom earplugs by then, BUT IT’LL BE WORTH IT!!! Absence making the heart grow fonder and all that.
If I hadn’t already seen TMBG perform half a dozen times already, I might be taking this much harder. After all — the two Johns (Flansburgh and Linnell) didn’t cancel the tour. Unlike so many bands and artists, TMBG clearly was determined to find a way to keep the ball rolling. Surely, surely, (stop calling me Shirley) nothing would get in the way of this April 2023 show, right?
I’m not going to minimize Mr. Flansburgh’s pain and long road to recovery, and I’m not usually one to believe in curses or bad mojo, but it’s kind of hard not to feel that some benevolent force is trying to keep me from seeing They Might Be Giants again.
Damnit, I told myself I wasn’t going to make this about me. This is not about me. Nope, not about me. I mean, I can’t complain about my own aging when John would have been in his 50s at the time of the original show date and now he’s probably gonna be in his mid 60s when it finally happens!
So I’ll focus instead on sending loving-kindness and healing vibes to John, who clearly, desperately wants to play live music again. I mean, some people heal super quick and are back on tour after a major injury in no time. I don’t see why this can’t be the case for a 62 year old rock star carrying a few extra pounds. And with the communal energy of a dedicated, world-wide TMBG fanbase, I just know John will be gracing the Fox Theater in Oakland in no time.
Last week, when I awoke with the TMBG song “Older” stuck in my head, I figured it was my dark (and darkly humorous) subconscious responding to the previous 10 days spent at my aunt’s assisted living facility in Southern California.
I’ve been my aunt Arlene’s main caretaker, durable power of attorney and advocate for the past 3 years. She’d been living alone in a mobile home park in Calabasas for more than 20 years, and although fiercely independent her whole life, was exhibiting increasing signs of dementia and of not taking her diabetes medications properly. In the summer of 2020, she’d been rushed to the hospital with her blood sugars in the 300s and a urinary tract infection. The doctor said that she could no longer live alone and so I hired a live-in caregiver. This was all in the height of COVID so moving her to a facility was not an option. Also, Arlene was not open to having the assisted living discussion.
Speed ahead to March of 2021. Eva, my aunt’s saintly caregiver, has been living at my aunt’s home for six months. But Arlene was at her wits end.
“I’m ready for assisted living now,” she said to me over the phone. “It’s either that or slit my wrists.”
“Let’s try assisted living first,” I said.
On June 1, 2021, I moved my aunt into Hillcrest, where she’d have a spacious single room with a balcony, a kitchenette and a view of the Santa Monica mountains.
I was worried my aunt would not do well in a communal atmosphere, as she’d always been, if not anti-social, fairly intolerant of the majority of humans. But from day one at Hillcrest, Arlene fit right in. She attended chair yoga classes, went to Friday Shabbat services, and soon developed several solid friendships.
Unfortunately, due to her dementia, she is unable to utilize the free shuttle to doctor appointments as she can no longer navigate her way around buildings. So I drive down from the Bay Area a few times a year to take her to various doctor visits. Which is what I was doing ten days ago, taking her to the dentist to get her dentures repaired, to the nephrologist to discuss her high kidney levels, and to get her second vaccine booster. Everything went smoothly. Too smoothly. One hour before heading back to Oakland, I received a call from Hillcrest. Arlene had been on a group walk and fell and hurt her knee. Could I come take her to the emergency room?
After ten hours at the Kaiser emergency it was determined nothing was broken; she’d just badly bruised her knee. But my aunt could not put weight on her right leg and so had to be transported in a wheelchair. And Hillcrest is an ambulatory assisted living facility. They don’t offer the kind of assistance Arlene needs. So I essentially became my aunt’s roommate/caregiver. Helping her to the dining room for meals, getting her to the bathroom, changing her clothes, you name it.
It was stressful and exhausting, but the amazing thing about my aunt is that for the most part she goes with the flow. We’d hang out in the gardens in the backyard of the facility along with several of the other residents. Instead of my usual 15-30 minute interactions with the seniors on prior visits, this time I was hanging out with them for several hours a day. I got to know Lorraine, a New York Jew in her late 80s (I think) who told great stories about her 35 year old husband who was going to come take her away to live in Hawaii; the next minute extolling that women are clearly the stronger sex because the men always die first. That of the 120 residents, the reason 90 are women is because they outlive the men. Her best friend, Mary, who is never not by Lorraine’s side (“We’re the Bobsie Twins!” Lorriane cried out to me with pride), never corrects Lorraine’s shifting stories. Then there is Shirley and Len, another Hillcrest couple (though my aunt claims that they’re not sleeping together—I don’t ask how she knows this). Len always wears a blue Los Angeles Dodgers baseball cap pulled down to the top of his bifocal glasses. When he sits, he slumps, his big belly propelled forward Buddha-like. It always looks like he is sleeping, but if someone makes a comment about him, he’ll usually grumble something with an Archie Bunker-like exasperation and sarcasm. Shirley is from England and is the most world-travelled of the bunch. And she can be found pruning the rose bushes despite the gardening staff wishing she wouldn’t.
For the five days I spent in the garden at Hillcrest, talking with the residents whose average age I was told is 91, not once did anyone bring up the topic of getting older or of aging. At least not in a negative way. (The above video is about the only aging talk I can recall.) Though we did discuss eye-sight, and I remarked at how impressive it was that very few of the residents wore glasses. “It’s cause we don’t spend our time staring into those tiny devices,” Shirley opined. I had to agree with her. It took some effort to not pull my iPhone out every few minutes to check email or texts.
After a couple days at Hillcrest, I began to feel less like a visitor or a caregiver and more like a resident. I looked forward to the afternoon chats with my new lady pals. No one was in a hurry. I seemed to be the only one who noticed that conversations might repeat themselves. Or maybe they were aware but just didn’t give a shit.
At dinner the third night, Betty, one of the ladies at the table, had “happy birthday” balloons tied to her chair. “I’m 92!” she announced proudly when one of the other folks asked. Everyone had a full glass of red wine and we cheered and sang Happy Birthday. “Last year, when I turned 100,” Lina, a petite Romanian woman seated next to me announced, “I drank an entire bottle of wine.” I think she probably came close to repeating the achievement that night.
After a couple days, my aunt was able to put some weight on her right leg and I worked with her to begin using her walker again. That was my goal before heading home: making sure my aunt could at least partially get around with her walker.
The management agreed to include additional care for Arlene for the following two weeks, with added night time checks and assistance to and from the bathroom and dining room. I cross my fingers and knock on wood several times a day that she doesn’t fall again. That she doesn’t injure herself far worse than a bone bruise.
I know how happy my aunt is at Hillcrest. She tells me all the time. At the most recent Shabbat service, the topic of discussion was gratitude. People went around the room telling one or two things they were grateful for. When my aunt spoke, she said she was grateful for getting to live at Hillcrest and for all the new friends she has made.
After an enormously challenging week, and really, an enormously challenging last three years, hearing her say these words, seeing my aunt so genuinely happy, makes all the nights sleeping in a recliner, all the hours spent scheduling doctor appointments with Kaiser, feel completely worth it.
I hope your aunt feels better!! ive never heard this older song before, it's great