My second wind
January 7, 2006 | 12:00am
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Five explosions over the past four years made a wreck of my life. They did away with everything I had, turned my world upside down, demolished everything that was standing, turned life for me into a desert – arid, dry, a place where nothing was happening, a place where even I had turned into stone. I became a big heavy rock tied around my children’s necks but they saved me. I am profoundly grateful to them.
After my stroke, I stared blankly into space for a whole year. Oh, I could talk if you spoke to me, but left alone I preferred to stare into space. I could do that well . . . and I could knit. I knitted one sweater after another, moving up to more complicated styles, finally knitting a sweater with beads. Then my barren landscape began to stir, very slightly. My dear friend Emily Abrera asked me to teach at McCann-Erickson again. I had begun a writing class for them two days after my stroke and could not proceed with it. "Now you can," she said convincingly and I did with much hesitation and even more trepidation,
First I taught again, then I wrote again. Then I launched my private classes again. Soon the little whiff of air that stirred the sand in my miserable desert began to rise into a breeze. What began so softly slowly gathered strength. Now, finally, here I am strong and blustery in my Second Wind. I am strong again, able again, I will go forth again and raise a little bit of . . . heaven? But I am also 61 and that to young people is old, old, so very old.
I look in the mirror and see my somewhat fallen, somewhat lined, but still good face. It doesn’t look 61, I am told, a compliment I accept skeptically. See, to me, my face is not important anymore but it’s the first thing you see and when you read my column you want to feel you are talking to me. So you must have a face to latch on to. So here is my un-retouched face. My body is . . . my dress size has swung from 8 to 16 though it has stayed longest at 10. When I stopped smoking I put on 30 pounds. Now they are all gone. Back to size 10, my body is lopsided and crooked but you won’t see that. Only I see that. It is the scar of my stroke. I have become very comfortable with it. I don’t look bad at 61.
Second Wind is written to share with you my experience of discovering and recovering myself. Some jerk (just joking) read my last column and sent me his comment: Why not Second Time Around? Isn’t that more romantic, more mysterious? Second Wind is for athletes, for boxers who have been knocked down, for horses that have run themselves out. Well, I am a boxer who has been knocked down, a horse who has run herself out. Now that I’m on my Second Wind I will reinvent myself and rise again, surprise again. You can stick Second Time Around to a dirty old wall. It isn’t my second time anyway. This business of breaking up into millions of pieces and then needing milk, eggs and butter to turn myself into a delicious cookie is not new to me. It has happened before. What’s new is this time I have had a stroke, which I survived, and now I have my Second Wind: a new life full of silent strength and vigor. My old self died with my stroke. I must discover who I am again.
The first thing I know is I am just two years older than a Baby Boomer. Baby Boomers are people born between 1946 and 1964, according to Matt Lauer of the Today show. They have fantastic health. Some of them make terrific dancers from ballet to ballroom. Many of them practice yoga. They are turning 60 in 2006 and come face to face with retirement but they don’t feel old. They are the biggest segment of the American population and, I believe, also of ours.
There have been tremendous advances in health care, including alternative medicine. Fifty-eight percent of American Baby Boomers will live up to 85 and 25 percent will live to see 90. They no longer want to be called retirees. Some authorities suggest calling theirs The Age of Mastery. People in their 60s know how to do everything. Many of them do retire, meaning saying goodbye to their careers, resting, then mounting a totally new second career. I now will try to find a second career, one that I can do, through which I can teach and pass what I spent the first 30 years of my life learning. Not advertising anymore. My next career will be something totally different. I still don’t know what it will be but the search is on.
People in their 60s today have a sense of their own possibilities. We need to harness that strength and to focus it through the creation of second careers. We need to look at ourselves and identify our strengths and our preferences. I would still like to write and to teach writing. It is the beginning of the year. I will begin Joy of Writing on January 14. Just e-mail or call me to enroll. I am configuring another class – Joy of Discovery for my graduates who want it. Call me so we can schedule you. I would like to teach every afternoon or evening but never in the morning. I enjoy having mornings for myself now.
To all who are reading this, please be informed that here is a person with experience in almost everything, who has recovered from a stroke and who finally has the strength and the power to go forth. I address the medical community. Do you want to have discussions with me about the possibility of packaging knitting classes, writing classes for people recovering from strokes? Just call me. I recovered wonderfully through knitting. Do not underestimate that. It could become part of your therapy. Corporations, do you need marketing advice? Writing? What about management? Creativity? Would you consider me as a consultant? I am open to proposals, open to consultancy. Maybe you can make me break how I feel about treasuring the mornings for myself. Help me spread the power of the Baby Boomer generation I want to cling to. Help me rebuild my life, help me make my desert bloom again.
Send comments to lilypad@skyinet.net or text 0917-815-5570.
After my stroke, I stared blankly into space for a whole year. Oh, I could talk if you spoke to me, but left alone I preferred to stare into space. I could do that well . . . and I could knit. I knitted one sweater after another, moving up to more complicated styles, finally knitting a sweater with beads. Then my barren landscape began to stir, very slightly. My dear friend Emily Abrera asked me to teach at McCann-Erickson again. I had begun a writing class for them two days after my stroke and could not proceed with it. "Now you can," she said convincingly and I did with much hesitation and even more trepidation,
First I taught again, then I wrote again. Then I launched my private classes again. Soon the little whiff of air that stirred the sand in my miserable desert began to rise into a breeze. What began so softly slowly gathered strength. Now, finally, here I am strong and blustery in my Second Wind. I am strong again, able again, I will go forth again and raise a little bit of . . . heaven? But I am also 61 and that to young people is old, old, so very old.
I look in the mirror and see my somewhat fallen, somewhat lined, but still good face. It doesn’t look 61, I am told, a compliment I accept skeptically. See, to me, my face is not important anymore but it’s the first thing you see and when you read my column you want to feel you are talking to me. So you must have a face to latch on to. So here is my un-retouched face. My body is . . . my dress size has swung from 8 to 16 though it has stayed longest at 10. When I stopped smoking I put on 30 pounds. Now they are all gone. Back to size 10, my body is lopsided and crooked but you won’t see that. Only I see that. It is the scar of my stroke. I have become very comfortable with it. I don’t look bad at 61.
Second Wind is written to share with you my experience of discovering and recovering myself. Some jerk (just joking) read my last column and sent me his comment: Why not Second Time Around? Isn’t that more romantic, more mysterious? Second Wind is for athletes, for boxers who have been knocked down, for horses that have run themselves out. Well, I am a boxer who has been knocked down, a horse who has run herself out. Now that I’m on my Second Wind I will reinvent myself and rise again, surprise again. You can stick Second Time Around to a dirty old wall. It isn’t my second time anyway. This business of breaking up into millions of pieces and then needing milk, eggs and butter to turn myself into a delicious cookie is not new to me. It has happened before. What’s new is this time I have had a stroke, which I survived, and now I have my Second Wind: a new life full of silent strength and vigor. My old self died with my stroke. I must discover who I am again.
The first thing I know is I am just two years older than a Baby Boomer. Baby Boomers are people born between 1946 and 1964, according to Matt Lauer of the Today show. They have fantastic health. Some of them make terrific dancers from ballet to ballroom. Many of them practice yoga. They are turning 60 in 2006 and come face to face with retirement but they don’t feel old. They are the biggest segment of the American population and, I believe, also of ours.
There have been tremendous advances in health care, including alternative medicine. Fifty-eight percent of American Baby Boomers will live up to 85 and 25 percent will live to see 90. They no longer want to be called retirees. Some authorities suggest calling theirs The Age of Mastery. People in their 60s know how to do everything. Many of them do retire, meaning saying goodbye to their careers, resting, then mounting a totally new second career. I now will try to find a second career, one that I can do, through which I can teach and pass what I spent the first 30 years of my life learning. Not advertising anymore. My next career will be something totally different. I still don’t know what it will be but the search is on.
People in their 60s today have a sense of their own possibilities. We need to harness that strength and to focus it through the creation of second careers. We need to look at ourselves and identify our strengths and our preferences. I would still like to write and to teach writing. It is the beginning of the year. I will begin Joy of Writing on January 14. Just e-mail or call me to enroll. I am configuring another class – Joy of Discovery for my graduates who want it. Call me so we can schedule you. I would like to teach every afternoon or evening but never in the morning. I enjoy having mornings for myself now.
To all who are reading this, please be informed that here is a person with experience in almost everything, who has recovered from a stroke and who finally has the strength and the power to go forth. I address the medical community. Do you want to have discussions with me about the possibility of packaging knitting classes, writing classes for people recovering from strokes? Just call me. I recovered wonderfully through knitting. Do not underestimate that. It could become part of your therapy. Corporations, do you need marketing advice? Writing? What about management? Creativity? Would you consider me as a consultant? I am open to proposals, open to consultancy. Maybe you can make me break how I feel about treasuring the mornings for myself. Help me spread the power of the Baby Boomer generation I want to cling to. Help me rebuild my life, help me make my desert bloom again.
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