My Aunt

I spent seven hours with my older friend Barbara today. This included lunch at the Paradise. We discussed all manner of things from fashion to religion. Barbara is 80 years old and I enjoy her company immensely.

I think this is because I used to visit my Great Aunt Olive when she was in her 80's and I in my teens and we'd talk for hours. She was always interested in fashion. She taught me to knit, the same way I taught my neices to knit. She had a shoe box full of rings and was always working on some kind of hand work.

She had beautiful old bone china and a special dish for every dish. A fish dish for fish and a fruit dish for fruit. I loved her house which was an old Pasadena craftsman style bungalow. She loved to talk about all the politics of our family and the old scandals. She was interested in my boyfriends. And my hair styles.

I knew then that being 80 wasn't old; it was interesting. My Aunt had interesting friend that were older than she was. And she took me to visit them in her classic 57 Chevy, blue and white, that she had bought when it was new and just took really really good care of and of course still drove. She had a lead foot too.

One of her old friends, Mary Waumsetta, had a house full of old dolls. Cabinets of tiny dolls and tables of huge standing dolls all with huge glass eyes and real hair. We had high tea there with her children who were in their 70's and seemed somehow older than she did.

So I love my friend Barbara. She's not the same as my Aunt. She goes to lunch in her nightgown and her house is a trailer. But she loves beautiful things especially rings which we have in common. And we talked for several hours about our friend who is trying to gain custody of her grandchild and what we could do to help. Being 80 is being real. It's not some senior waste land. Growing old is not for the weak.