Welcome to Crone Life, a weekly and sometimes biweekly email newsletter where I write about what I think and how I feel about getting older, which is better than the alternative. For those who haven’t been following along from the beginning, or memorized my circumstances, I was in a car accident at the end of October. I have a broken hand, a broken kneecap, a broken foot, bruised ribs and a totaled car. I’m out of work and on FMLA until the end of the year. There go the holidays.
Ibuprofen sustains me. I can’t use my left hand for much. Walking is limited. My ribs still hurt. It’s fucking cold out. I’m bored. I’ve been working my way through the online syllabus for the music history class I’m auditing. I’m up to Satie and Poulenc now. At this very moment, though, I’m listening to an album of classical piano pieces performed by Antonio Ballista, called “Piano Recital.” Yesterday was Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms. I could probably check out some podcasts and, I don't know, audio books, but I don’t like to just sit around and listen, I always want to multitask. Maybe I could lie in bed, lapse into semi-consciousness, and drowse to something? I have those little earbud things. Maybe a meditation app? I could listen to something and take notes, sometimes that proves inspirational. Or I could just draw. I survived the summer of 2020 by taking a furlough from work and starting grad school, so I've been there, done that.
In the end, I chose season 3 of Slow Horses on AppleTV+ only to discover there’s only 2 episodes available. I feel deprived.
Is this a good time to pursue self-improvement? Sometimes I think the key to aging well is just to change all my bad habits to good. Just make those phone calls I’ve been putting off. Deal with issues as they come up. Be more responsible about money. Just Do Things. Sure.
Year-End Thoughts
It’s December! That time when we quantify everything we did throughout the year. Spotify Wrapped, anyone? As you’ve probably noticed, I’m not that concerned with keeping track of things. I do have an Apple One sub, though, from which I derived the following information
I seem to be using the app as intended. Last night, after a fight with my spouse of 34 years, I lay in bed with my headphones on, listening to the “Blossom” playlist from “Apple Music Chill” and it really was very soothing. Odd how I used to find comfort in choosing specific music to listen to over and over and now I just want an algorithm to surprise me.
Celebrity Death Watch!
It’s also that time of year when a bunch of celebs, or at least famous people, die, and memories work their way up from the depths.
Henry Kissinger – I was on my way home from work in midtown and saw him on East 52nd on the sidewalk in front of the Four Seasons, must have been sometime in the mid-90s, thought “that person looks like a dried-up tree root carved to look like a man” and then realized it was Kissinger.
Shane MacGowan – can’t ever remember what “Fairytale of New York” sounds like or is about, but every time I listen to it I go, oh yeah that one.
Sandra Day O’Connor – when I was a young woman in the 80s I assumed there would be more and more women on the Supreme Court until they were a majority, but then it took 12 more years for Ruth Bader Ginsburg to become the second.
I’m sure more deaths, of both the known and the unknown, have piled up while I was typing this.
Other People’s Newsletters
This morning I read the latest update from Hanif Kureishi. He talks about his fear of leaving the hospital and living at home, where, even though his house is being remodeled so he can live on one floor, it will be difficult. He’ll be away from the doctors and nurses and dependent on around-the-clock carers and his family to look after him. The world outside the rehab center is not designed for the disabled. All reasonable fears. I relate them to my own fears of aging in a society that accommodates the old only grudgingly, unless you’re someone who can afford to have things your way. Eventually we all come to this (if we’re lucky, and not everyone considers it luck).
He ends his post by saying his wife and one of his children don’t want to discuss any of this in public and don’t want to participate in a family radio interview. He notes
[my wife] wonders how candid speech comes so naturally to me. I considered this myself, since sometimes I find it easier to talk on radio, for instance, than I do to a friend. Maybe it is because, in a way, there is no one there; you cannot actually see the audience. My guess is that it is also to do with being a writer, which means that there is a bond of trust between an author and his or her audience: I take it for granted that the reader has a sympathetic ear; that they will receive my words kindly and with interest, just as I might listen to them. So I have come to believe that this is a free and uplifting exchange, rather than a breach of privacy. That is just me.
I’ve had some comments, mostly from people who have known me in real life, who thanked me for being so personal, or say that they almost feel embarrassed reading what I’ve written, and I think, “but these are just My Feelings! Isn't it OK to express how you feel?” I’ve spent a lot of time and effort, over the years, in attempts to make myself emotionally invulnerable and I’m just not into that any more. And so I regard this newsletter of mine as a “free and uplifting exchange, rather than a breach of privacy.” Don’t be embarrassed, because I’m not.
Have things to say? Here’s your opportunity. Please comment! Click the heart so I feel the warmth of our free and uplifting exchange. Don’t fear your feelings.
Your story is so familiar to me. I’ve had a bunch of surgeries over the past 10 years (orthopedic mostly - knee and foot surgeries). I would have to take medical leaves for recovery, and each time I went into it thinking I was going to get So Much Done (house organized, read hundreds of books, etc), then I’d be consumed with regret about how it wasn’t happening. It seems funny to me now. I’m the queen of unrealistic expectations. And I’m doing it again in retirement.
I love your newsletter/substack. I wish you well in your healing journey. Keep writing!