Keep Your Self-Esteem on the Down Side of the Hill
"You're sticking pins in my doll." So said Maurice, the retired astronaut in one episode of "Northern Exposure." He was alluding to the Voodoo practice of sticking pins in a miniature effigy of a person you wish harm.
Maurice, on the program, had undergone several events that made him realize how old he was. When he had received as many reminders as he could tolerate, about his advancing years, Maurice told a caller what he thought of the situation.
We older folks don't need help to know which side of the hill we are on. When our minds says to jump out of bed in the morning, but our bodies do well to drag out with a few groans, we wonder how all the miles on the odometer can make so much difference. When we bend over to tie our shoes and find that our arms are six inches too short to reach our feet, we begin to suspect we are no longer spring chickens.
Then there's the time we finally reach our feet with enough light and leverage to cut our toenails--and cut a couple so short we have to walk with a cane for several days. We may as well grin and bear it, because it's probably the best it's ever going to be.
As memory nudges, there are the gravy stains on ties or blouses. We don't notice the little spots when we dress, but I guess the soil grows when we get in public. We can either bear the humiliation in silence or say, "That looks like roast beef gravy. Must be from last Sunday when cousin Elmer shook his fork at me"--or, "That looks like spaghetti sauce from last Saturday when Susie got me tickled."
It doesn't take some smart-mouth grandchild asking, "Grandpa, were you ever in an Indian raid?' to make us realize that years are stacking up like green garbage bags in the city dump. We got that idea when we went shopping, tried on dresses before a full length mirror and discovered we had developed two waist lines, either of which was eight or ten inches bigger than the one we remembered--or the Indian fighter, grandpa, can on longer see the toes of his shoes and has to make up his mind whether his belt feels better below or above the paunch. If it feels better below, he may have to determine the question of security.
The fact of our many years strikes home when we find that there's no longer a school house for a reunion, besides, we'd have a larger attendance if we held it in the local cemetery rather than in the park.
It isn't that I resent getting older, when I consider the alternative, it's just that I can't remember if I told you that funny story yesterday--or was it this morning, or was it my sister I told? Whichever, please, just grin and bear it. Chances are, I will begin to tell stories over as often as Ray and some of his buddies down at morning coffee. Seems Lem Brock, Fancher Archer, Bill Nix, Ralph Starling and a few others, are polite enough to continue to laugh at each others memories, no matter how often they hear the tales. We need an agreement with the whole world to be that kind.
Sometimes it seems that the world is determined to dip out of our buckets. You know, it's like you carry your self-esteem around in a bucket. You meet someone who says, "My, you look tired this morning--or is that just your Monday face?" And you immediately notice how tired you are. You see, some people try to fill their own buckets by dipping out of someone else's. That just won't work. You can add to the contents of your own bucket by saying kind things to others--and sometimes catching the overflow, but you can't fill your own, lift your own self-esteem, by dipping from someone else's.
After a number of eye-opening events, Maurice dived into a pool at the bottom of a waterfall, in Alaska, to convince himself that he wasn't on a rapid landslide. He exalted in being alive after the plunge. I tried diving from a low diving board last summer. It really didn't do much for my self-esteem, considering the splash, but then I didn't drown either. I am thankful for good health and a little taste for adventure.
Speaking for all of us older generation, "Please don't stick pins in our dolls." On my part, I'm too busy using my doll for a pin cushion myself. With pin in hand, I may rise to the attack, and I've had enough years of experience to know where it really hurts--and I carry a big dipper.
