Ambling along through this late stage of my life, I have become aware that my steps are slow, but for the most part it does not matter since no one is waiting for me so I can take the time I need to cover the ground that I do and stop and smell the flowers or take pictures and make notes of things I would like to write about. Thinking about being older and slower and still wishing to participate in activities and still clinging to my little job, electronically filing, reminds me of when I was in my early twenties, working as a research clerk for the now world famous, Cleveland Clinic Foundation, where the charming and very elderly Albert, worked faithfully in the company postal system. I remember admiring his artistic old world script, certainly lost to contemporary generations which are working hard to eliminate the process of longhand altogether. There was always a twinkle in Albert’s eyes and a few kind words as he went about his work.
In high school I had an interest in calligraphy and earned an honorable mention at the then fairly new May Show for a piece done in Italian Upright. My sister is still actively studying calligraphy and has done some lovely work, including last year’s Christmas card on which she lettered some lines from an old hymn.
The teacher of the water exercise class I am in at Estabrook Recreation Center is 84 years old and he pointed out to me that I am not keeping up with him. I did not notice that anyone was.