
Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream. —Khalil Gibran
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Many things about old age are not pleasant, I tell my young friend. Shall I count the ways?
Please don’t!
Okay. What if I recount one of the many PLEASANT things about old age.
MANY?!
Good point. What if I recount one of the FEW pleasant things about old age?
Make it quick. I don’t have all day and for sure you don’t!
Ha ha.
Go ahead. Tell me one pleasant thing about old age.
Strollin’ down memory lane with old friends.
When you’re young, your memory lane is a cul de sac. When you’re old, it’s a long and winding road, over hill and dale, through forests and swamps, sunshine and rain. It rolls past lovers and friends, places and things, all changed, but none forgotten.
Must be sad to go back to what was but no longer is.
It is. But it’s a sweet sadness. And it’s a lot less sad with friends along.
I suppose what you alone can’t remember completely a companion might round out?
Exactly! Memories are like jigsaw puzzles. We each hold certain pieces of the memory. So when we manage to complete the picture, we toast ourselves.
Victory!
What happens if someone loses all their pieces?
That’s devastating.
I went to see a dear friend recently. Many times over the past 25 years, he and I strolled down memory lane, stopping to reminisce over one thing after another, piecing memories together. This time was different.
How?
He wasn’t there. Alzheimer’s had claimed him. We talked. But I was a complete stranger to him. His body was there, but he wasn’t.
Wait! Are you saying the body can outlast the person?
Something like that. In my life, I’ve had many friends. Some are dead and some are living and some now linger in a land beyond knowing.
Do you think your friend is happy?
I like to think so. I like to think he reclines in a boat on a river with tangerine trees and marmalade skies, with cellophane flowers of yellow and green towering over his head, where rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies and everyone smiles as he drifts past the flowers that grow so incredibly high.
How cool is that?! Your friend merrily trippin’ down memory lane with kaleidoscope eyes.
I don’t know whether he is or not. I just hope that he’s happy and never feels alone.




Those with Alzheimer’s might forget us, but we must remember them. Being with them, as you are with your friend, is a vital link to true humanity and compassion. Being grateful for them and expressing it, is love in action. By your presence, the message you send is important—namely, even though I cannot cure, I care.
So another week begins. I for one have too much time on my hands. Too much alone time. Don’t get me wrong. I like alone time, but punctuated with friends, going places and doing things together. Yes. I can do all those things myself, but I’m still alone. Sharing is the big part for me. “Remember when?” “Wasn’t that a grand time?” However, I don’t want constant togetherness. That can become a weight all its own. At the same time, I get tired of just the three of us: Me, Myself, and I. Everyone seems so busy anymore. Spinning in little circles, preoccupied with themselves. Perhaps it’s just the times we live in? The important thing to remember is reaching out, trying to make connections. One day someone will reach back, and as John Prine once commented, “Just waiting for someone to say, hello in there. Hello.”
Hello, Stephen, I too am comfortable and easily fill alone time, but research shows we introverts do stay healtheir with social interaction, so I find some ways each week to participate in positive interactions. Hope you can too.
I do like the peace of aloneness. Quiet. Then I have the Church Ladies as we call ourselves and the owner of the pup who comes to play with our crazed mutt. They do not let me get too comfortable in my solitude requiring time, energy, participation.
Mom left us 6 years ago on June 15 deep in dementia. Luckily, most of her care was at home surrounded by family and music. Forget the TV. She couldn’t have cared less. But music was the connector. She couldn’t talk but she could direct and appreciate the music be it Puccini, Chuck Mangione or Earth Wind and Fire. She was content. One point to our young friends – ask the questions now. Later may be too late and those gaps in the puzzle may never be filled.
Such sweetness in your words… in my experience, the same person with Alzheimer’s or another dementia can be blissfully enjoying the moment – especially out of doors. Yet other moments lost in a memory that feels so real – yet no longer exists. They say drumming can be soothing…& certainly not correcting or arguing is a salve.
I only know that kindness & love are the marmalade…& growing old has its perks & many pleasures – when in the company of good souls, & music – sweet music!!
Thank you Randy!
Like every stage of life, old age has it’s challenges and it’s blessings. I love being unhurried with time to enjoy everything. I love letting my spirit free to express what life has taught me.
Sorry this is so long, but check it out…
Drumming improves dementia by stimulating the brain, reducing stress, and providing a powerful avenue for non-verbal communication. Because rhythmic response is deeply preserved in the brain, it allows individuals to engage, socialize, and experience a sense of joy even when verbal and executive skills have deteriorated.
The ways drumming benefits those with cognitive impairment break down into key cognitive, physical, and emotional areas:
🧠 Cognitive Benefits
🎶 Emotional & Social Benefits
🏃 Physical Benefits
“…the girl with colitis goes by…”