Creative Aging Essays

Snowshoeing Adventure? by Caren Beeman

Down in our basement we have storage compartments for each member of our family. If you looked in my son Michael’s compartment, you would find climbing gear, camping gear for long backpacking trips, ski equipment and maybe even a plastic kayak which barely fit. My husband’s closet would look similar, except for the kayak. Instead, you’d also find snow shoes and poles. My husband preferred wood kayaks that he made and kept hung up on our garden wall. My daughter had gotten married and emptied her storage unit. So, I converted that unit into a wine cellar. That’s my space.

I also have another storage area by the furnace. In there you will find crutches for when I broke my knee walking the dog, (I tripped) and my walker for when I broke a hip playing golf. You ask, “how does one break a hip playing golf?”

“This Is Me at 68”: Elders Reflect During Crisis by Yes! Magazine

As the world has sheltered in place over the past few months, there are have been so many great essays and articles written about our new reality. Yes! Magazine recently published a wonderful collection of short, insightful and poignant essays written by ten people over 60. Here are some “sneak peaks” of a few of them. I invite you to take a look!

My Life According to Food By Michele Straube

The first few months of retirement gave me time to reflect on what provides meaning in my life, what I really value and want to spend time on.  Then came the month of December, a month filled with three family birthdays in addition to all the usual celebrations.  I realized that food plays a most essential role in how I move through my days.  Yes, I need food to survive.  But food is so much more than physical nourishment for me. 

 

Love for Women Who Are Apples By Leah Forster Gauvin

When I was in high school, I was so slim that the history and government teacher took my best friend aside to ask her two questions: 1. Was I anorexic?; and 2. If not, was my family too impoverished to feed me? (Neither was the issue, I was just thin and a dancer.)

Strands of Loss – Strands of Grief – Strands of Gratitude by Madeleine Sigman-Grant

From the earliest time, I can remember strands of yarn in my hands. Even before I could manipulate a needle, I held my arms out as my mother laced skeins of yarn around them so she could roll the yarn into balls. That motion symbolizes my life – unravel, rewind, create, unravel yet again . . .

Connecting with My Inner Artiste! By Cathleen O’Connor Ph.D.

Summer is approaching, and I am looking forward to that time of year when life seems to naturally slow down and I get to catch up on books I haven’t read, dip my toes in the water and breathe a bit more deeply.