[2022-06-28] Purple with a red hat
A friend recently posted on Facebook, on the eve of turning 50, Jenny Joseph's poem "Warning":
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
It made me wonder what wild and wise things I will do (and have begun to do) as I get older. So I tweaked the first part of Jenny Joseph's poem to reflect my tendencies and added a new part.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple yoga pants and comfortable shoes
With a red hat baseball cap which doesn't may not go, and doesn't may not suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy fancy food and summer gloves frequent haircuts.
And satin sandals warm hats, and say we've no money for butter cable TV.
I shall sit down on the pavement in a comfy chair when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops Costco and press alarm bells compliment strangers
And run my stick along the public railings call out to people in their yards as I pass
And make up for the sobriety people-pleasing of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain when I want and stay home when I don't
And pick stop to admire flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit say what I think.
When I receive an invitation, I will ask myself "Do I want to do this?" and act accordingly.
I will abandon FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and increasingly opt for HIMB (Home In My Bed).
I will expand my to-don't list as I stop doing things that bring me little pleasure.
When I am out, I will talk to strangers and offer advice to young people.
I will go to dinner parties, and play games, such as euchre and crokinole.
I will say hello to acquaintances when I run into them and reach out to friends who pop into my mind.
What I learn, I will teach.
I will seek comfort in my surroundings, my activities and my relationships.
I will be grateful for every day that is gifted to me, and appreciate all the people who are in my life.
It's amusing to think about things we'll do differently as we grow older and, perhaps, bolder—the things we'll let go of, the principles we'll stand on, the conventions we'll drop. Unlike Jenny, I won't drink more alcohol or pick flowers from other people's gardens or go out in my slippers in the rain. That's not my style. Instead, I will be considerate and complimentary and loving, but only to those who deserve it.
At 55 (soon to be 56), with two cancers behind me, and retirement stretching before me, it's time I started practising to be the kindly and slightly plucky old lady I aspire to be. May I be so lucky as to get there. And if I do, perhaps I will wear purple with a red hat.
