The Old Ladies of Christmas

I'm feeling a little old in the bones because it is FREEZING outside. The other day one of my students asked me, "Mrs. M, do you EVER wear any makeup?" I guess I'm looking a little tired at school and my efforts at makeup application are going unnoticed. My hair is looking very pearly white lately, too. When I take pictures of myself I like to look real close and notice the spotty age spot/freckle-y skin and the crow's feet. It's a tiny bit thrilling in a weird sort of way. Well, all this to say that today I am thinking of some old ladies that dance around in my memories. Especially the old ladies in my Christmas memories. First, some of the old lady gifts I gave to my grandmothers . . . soap. Yes, I know. Brilliantly creative and thoughtful. My sister and I thought the soaps we selected were glorious. Why did Grandma keep them in her dresser and not in the bathroom? We asked. "Oh, I'm saving them, " was Grandma's response. "For WHAT?" was my insensitive reply.

We thought "chopper hoppers" were VERY cute and clever and I'm not sure why my mom didn't discourage us from buying these for my grandpa AND my grandma. How many "chopper hoppers" does one need?

A vivid Christmas memory of old ladies (which I say with utmost reverence because I am more of an old lady now than a young lady) is my Camp Fire Girl Christmas caroling ventures. We wore red felt hats (not cute and only borderline elfish) and we visited two or three nursing homes so we could sing to the shut ins. The nursing homes did not smell lovely and I was astounded by the HUGE cans of Campbell's soup in the kitchen. As we sang (I'm pretty sure I didn't know enough words to Christmas carols then) I looked around at their faces and felt sad. One woman I remember most was as thin as a skeleton and had the saddest face of all. I thought about her for years after that. I just couldn't get her out of my mind. Obviously, I am STILL thinking about her.

Now, I do not think of my mother as an old lady. She is so frisky and alive (she's almost 80) and she is so adorable and bouncy. When she was my age, I think she moved around more than I do. I guess I absolutely love the idea of getting older. I know that being a fairy grandmother suits me beautifully and I love the people who are my age and gravitate toward them. I've noticed that women my age or older smile at me like they know me. I like to think it's because women get smarter as they get older and they value friendship and they realize it is fun to connect with "girls" your age. To be honest, sometimes I feel completely invisible to younger people (not to my students because they have to pay attention to me and not to our kids because they really like me) and I guess it's my ego that bristles at their lack of attention. I hope I'm moving past this. I'd rather revel in growing older. Back to Christmas . . . Elizabeth (John the Baptist's mom) was VERY old, "Even your relative Elizabeth has also conceived a son in her old age; and she who was called barren is now in her sixth month. For nothing will be impossible with God." (Luke 1:36-37) How amazing is THAT?

So, here's a nice old lady saying, "Merry Christmas, my friends!" It's time to put on my warm pajamas, brush my teeth and put in my retainer and my night guard instead of placing my choppers in the hopper, and snuggle up close to the old man and dream of sugar plums.