New Year’s morning 2019 I stood at the living room window sipping coffee and taking in winter’s barren landscape when a flash of red in the cherry tree caught my eye. I watched as a robin red breast settled on a limb. Another one flew in, and then another, and then several more until the tree was alive with robins. It took my breath away.
Robins signify beginnings, growth, happiness, and hope, so I took it as a good omen for the start of the year. But new beginnings come out of endings, and growth and happiness come in how one deals with those changes.
The robins hung around the front yard for several months. Watching them play in the trees and feed on the seeds I scattered on the ground brought me much joy and filled me with hope for what could be. It emboldened me to fulfill a long desired wish.
For several years I’d yearned to visit the birthplace of my grandparents, Calabria, Italy. I’d researched the towns they were born in, as well as the rest of the toe of the Italian boot. With a push from my friends Steve who said, “You aren’t getting younger,” and the help of his wife, Bobbie, who tracked reasonable airfares, I made reservations for a special vacation.
Soon after that, my friend, Jamie Bosworth, invited me to do a photo shoot at her studio. Jamie is a talented photographer and I was honored by her offer. We set a date for late February when I had a week off from work. I thought it would be interesting to replicate a photo of myself that was taken by Gene Wright, a photographer in San Francisco when I was twenty-three. It was a fun afternoon as Jamie’s subject, and watching her do what she does best.
When I returned to work I was met by my manager and ushered into the back room where I was terminated from a job I’d held for eleven years. A reason was given, but I believe that at the root of it was ageism. The company may deny it, but I always sensed that to them I had an expiration date, whereas my younger co-workers were encouraged and nurtured to move up to other, better paying positions.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, not only to lose a job, but also to have to look for a new one. And then I received the proofs from Jamie.
What was I thinking? I know I am a mature woman and didn’t expect to see a fresh faced, dreamy eyed girl in her twenties envisioning a utopian world. Nor would I see the glowing thirty something that liberated herself from a difficult marriage, the mother of a young son, free to grow as an independent woman.
In my forties, after a second divorce, and the mother of another young son, I spoke to my friend Trini about concerns I had regarding age. She said, “Oh, Franny, you’re still a girl. A woman blooms, and blooms, and blooms, until she don’t bloom no more.”
And so I re-invented myself, then and every decade after that with the changes life brings: becoming a grandmother and then as an empty nester after my youngest son graduated high school. I heeded what Trini said and bloomed and bloomed.
The new century brought about several changes of location and jobs. Eventually I became a bank teller, spending my days with co-workers who were young enough to be my grandchildren. They were surprised that I knew their music and lingo, and what was happening in pop culture. I was shocked by how little many of them knew of what came before them, whether it was music, culture, or the history of their country and the world. There were some who were aware; with them I enjoyed a bond beyond being co-workers, and still enjoy their friendships.
I felt ageless working with young people. I knew the years were stacking up, but being old was not on my agenda. Yet, the camera does not lie; I didn’t look as ageless as I felt. Perhaps in my heart of hearts I did want to see a more glowing version of myself, but the girl with a faraway look, visualizing what could be: a world at peace, everyone living in harmony with each other and nature was now a woman who looked the camera in the eye; weary, concerned, disappointed.
Some things didn’t change, I hold the same ideals my younger self did, but it seems the world has changed, falling apart environmentally and politically, and now I had to figure out how I fit in the changing employment market. Frustrated, I put aside the job search and took the trip to Calabria.
It was the high point of the year. I saw the birthplaces of my grandparents, absorbed the beauty of the countryside, and the history and culture of that ancient land. I met many wonderful people and ate delicious food. I did everything I wanted to do, yet there was always another path to take, or staircase to climb that I couldn’t quite make.
I’d put off knee replacement surgery for eight years, and realized that to continue to live fully the time had come to do it. In September I had surgery and was incapacitated for ten weeks. While I was recovering, working hard with physical therapists and on my own to become mobile again, I had to swallow my Leo pride and ask for help. I was overwhelmed by the kindness of family, friends and neighbors who cared for me.
Here I am on New Year’s Eve, reflecting on the year that was, and the lessons learned from both the difficult events and the joyful ones; what to let go of and what to embrace. I move on to the New Year accepting that I am an elder of society, knowing that a lifetime of experiences has provided knowledge and a modicum of wisdom to share. As I continue to figure out how to earn a living, I hope it will be in a way that helps this earth we live on and to use my creativity as a writer.
And I’m still blooming!
I look ahead to the New Year and decade prayerful that all people can put aside differences and work together to heal the planet.
May 2020 be filled with love, peace, and joy, and may you fulfill your deepest desires.
The Write Mind of a Lefthander 