Do you know how difficult it is to schedule a luncheon get-together for four ladies who are retired?
Harder than you might think.
There are four women (me being one of them) who worked together at Eastern Washington University some years back. We all became friends. I do see some of them individually, but all four of us tried to meet for lunch twice a year. That rarely worked out, so we aimed for once yearly. Then COVID happened, and it's been hit or miss since then.
And even when the gods of nature, pandemic and what-have-you aren't conspiring against us, it's hard to pull this off. I'm the organizer of these now-rare lunches, so I know whereof I speak.
We range in age from just barely 70 to our upper 80s ... and we are busy women. Retired, yes. Tired, often. Incapacitated, sometimes. But still upright and moving, thank you, and hard to corral at one time and place.
Not grannies in rockers, which is an outdated stereotype anyhow, though I do enjoy my recliner. Not a one of us is passively waiting for the clock to run out. We read books and newspapers; have, listen to and willingly share opinions; and are active in the world to some degree or other - even though we sometimes limp as we engage.
I was determined that we could pull off a lunch foursome before the snow falls, so I started my wrangler activities some weeks ago, when it was still summer on the calendar. I offered up some dates over a 10-day period of time, noting which ones worked for me and asking which ones might work for them.
There was one day that was good for two of us, so-so but doable for another, and OK for the fourth person (but she'd have to leave early). Not satisfactory.
So I tried another 10-day grouping. Nothing. And then another. Eventually, success. If the gods remain kindly disposed towards us, we will be having lunch together in mid-October. We picked a nice upscale place to go because, frankly, it was a big deal getting this thing on the calendar. And because, at our ages, who knows what might change in our lives suddenly.
Yes, there are doctors' appointments to work around. Two of us also have regular physical therapy sessions on our calendars. One of us has an ailing husband and doesn't like to leave him alone for long. One of us has mobility issues. Another travels a lot and is often out of town.
Our children are long-since grown, and there are grandchildren and great-grandchildren afoot to occupy the attention of some of us - one of whom actually has great-great grandchildren. I'm quite impressed at that.
Aside from family and doctor stuff, we are all still active in some way in our communities - from serving on boards of nonprofits to putting out a newsletter in her retirement community, participating in political action activities to transporting donated books or hosting book club meetings. Or, smaller scale, making sure the neighbor's garbage is put out and their driveway cleared of snow. One of us actually writes a column for The Spokesman-Review.
Some of these are variations on or expansions of things we did when we were younger. They do take up more of our time to complete these days and certainly more of our energy. As one friend said, "Honestly, I don't know how I had time to work."
It's a nice place to be, frankly, all things considered. I recently learned of another friend of long-standing who died unexpectedly. Healthy and active one day, gone the next.
The concept of putting things off until tomorrow just isn't realistic anymore. Or, as my full-of-quaint-expressions late father-in-law used to say, "Well, dear, you can't do it any younger."
So if you see four ladies of advanced glamor out lunching on Oct. 16, perhaps laughing with a great bit of gusto, full of opinions enthusiastically being shared and clearly enjoying themselves way too much - that's probably Jane, Isabelle, Liz and me. Living as large as we can, unashamedly, while we can.