Cover Story

Letters from the editors

By None

ROCKFORD WOMAN

Aug 22, 2008 @ 03:20 PM

I’ve always had “the cool parents.”

No, they didn’t throw keggers for my friends in high school, but they were young: in their 30s. 

Eek. If I were my mom, I would have a teenager with a driver’s permit instead of a first-grader right now.

What’s harder to swallow? Someday, my mom and dad will be “old people.”

Now, they are 55 and still young. They work. They’re in good health. This has been great, especially for my daughters. Grandma Carol and Grandpa “Easy” have such a strong bond with them — and at least fake the energy to keep up.

I know this won’t last forever, and our family dynamic will change. I’ve gotten a glimpse of what can happen ever since my grandma passed away two years ago.

Tackling the topic of elder care in this issue has prompted me to start talking to my parents about their hopes and dreams for the future.

In the meantime: Will my mom stop paying the dinner tab? Will my dad stop fixing stuff? I doubt it. They’ll be themselves for as long as they can.

— Jennie Pollock

Looking back at my childhood, I can count three times my mom spanked me. Each time, it involved me breaking a rule that existed for my own safety. It was never more than one swift swat, and it scared me more than hurt me.

As I got older, my mom looked out for me in different ways. There was a standing offer for a ride home if I or my friends had too much to drink. I actually called her once, and she picked me up.

When she was widowed at age 38, she didn’t have to figure out how to be self-reliant. She was already there. It never occurred to me that she would ever need help.

But now, as my mom approaches her mid-60s, I find myself looking out for her. I had to tell her after her hip replacement that she wasn’t “allowed” to clean the gutters herself anymore. We talk about finances. She asks me health questions.

My husband and I spoke one night about our changing roles, now that we’re grown-up children. He said something that’s stuck with me: “We need to show our parents the same love and patience they showed us when we were children.” It was a wonderful reminder that during life’s uncertainties, all you need is to let your heart be your guide.

— Shelley Hendricks

My son is older than I was when he was born. I am older now than my mother was when her first grandson was born. How can that be, since I am, of course, the same age as I was then?

The brain’s age-tracking machinery stops working at 25-ish, which accounts for why 60-year-old women dress like twentysomethings (oh, dear, check wardrobe). It accounts for aging boomer men who think they can slide into home plate. Our parents are perpetually 45-ish, so when they don’t hear so well, can’t walk as fast and far, maybe even decide not to drive at night, it’s confusing. A lot.

My parents live back East, so we share our lives in phone calls, photos, e-mails and a family Web site. Since the voice ages gracefully, my mom and dad sound no different today than they did 40 years ago when I went away to college. These days, though, when we walk side-by-side, they’re walking a lot slower and if I’m not careful, I’m a block ahead without thinking.

Until just a handful of years ago, it was my grandmother, my mother and me. I was the “baby,” and there were two strong women buffering me from what was out there. Then my mother became the buffer, the family matriarch. Someday, that will be me. How can that be? I am just 25….

— Linda Grist Cunningham