Gero-Punk Public Service Announcement

ImageHave you missed me? Well, I’ve missed you.

You have not heard much from me lately. A lot has been happening, all of it significant or challenging in some way (for example, my daughter Isobel graduated from high school last week). In fact, so much stuff has been happening that I have at least enough material for 7 1/2 gero-punk essays. But for now, what I have to say is this:

It’s time for another gero-punk public service announcement!

We’ve had a bunch of new folks join the Gero-Punk Project in the past couple of weeks. Hello to those of you residing in Columbia, Germany, and Turkey, as well as various North American environs.

Thank you for your interest in the Gero-Punk Project!

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Perhaps you need to know a bit more about what’s what before you’ll feel willing to venture further.  That’s understandable.

The Gero-Punk Project provides a venue for telling and sharing stories about our travels through the life-course. Together we create a space for trying out alternative ways of experiencing and writing about time/space/place, about age and aging, and about the complexities of being human beings, aware of the passage of time. We take seriously the idea that we are time-travelers: a particular age, all ages, and no age at all. We give  voice to our flummoxing, fascinating, mundane and profound, odd and perhaps transgressive thoughts, feelings, and experiences related to this grand and strange adventure of being and becoming human in and through and outside of time. We legitimize confusion, uncertainty, and vulnerability, states of no-sense. As well, we harness our inner authority, our sovereignty, our growing expertise about our own inside experiences and our curiosity about the inside experiences of others.

We ask questions such as:

Where does age reside?

What does it feel like to be the embodied creatures we are right now in this present moment? (And what might it feel like to be a differently embodied creature?)

What assumptions are we holding about what a particular age should be like, or look like, and where did these assumptions come from? (And are we served well by these assumptions or do we want to blow them up and create something new?)

How might our confusions, mishaps and missteps as we muddle through this life be sources of learning and wisdom, for ourselves and, by sharing them, for others?

(And for those of us who are formally engaged in the work of gerontology) We ask to what extent do we see our aging experiences reflected in the official Gerontological theory and research? And to what extent are our aging experiences and our capacities to support others with their aging experiences informed by Gerontological theory and research? What are the connections and disconnections? What is missing and what might we add? What new questions might we ask?

As well, we ask: What capacities for self-care and intentional aging do we want to develop so that we can live vibrant and purposeful lives, no matter what challenges we might face as we continue our travels through the life-course? (See a recent gero-punk essay from Erica Wells that testifies to the importance of self-care.)

Also this: What are the ways in which we might be of service to others, to the larger community, and to the world that allow us to enact our deepest longings and commitments,  help us grow in all directions as human beings as we continue to ripen?

And perhaps most important of all, we ask: If we had play-dates with our 8 year old selves, what would we do? If we invited our future older selves over for a glass of wine, what would we talk about?

This is by no means an exhaustive list. But it is a good start.

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What’s going on for you right now? What’s on your mind? What questions have you been asking lately? Any questions to add to the list?

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Gero-Punk Tribute: Carl’s Legacy

 Sydney Melnick's profile photo

 By guest Gero-Punk

Sydney Melnick

Here goes my first attempt at blogging:

I’m Sydney, a student at Marylhurst University very close to graduating. Finally feeling like I’m just about there has elicited some reflection on what I’m doing with my life. I was recently asked in a class as a discussion question what the point of life is. While I’d been asked this many times in various contexts, I’ve always dismissed it as such an unanswerable question that it was actually comical. 

Then I figured it out for me. It registered. It’s all about what you leave behind. Of course my answer could change. I’m not going to pretend that I have any more experience with aging than I do, but I’ve got a good 26-year start. And I’ve recently had an experience with legacy that’s worth sharing.

I play pool. Lots of pool. I mean I go to the pool hall at 7am. Then sometimes I go back to the pool hall later in the afternoon. The game grew on me. I took serious interest around the time I was 19 years old, when I decided to purchase my own cue. I was intrigued by the strategy, focus and technique required. Most importantly I felt relief from the constant buzzing in my head about school, work, family, deadlines and more.

In the beginning it was strictly about making personal progress as a pool player. I hadn’t experienced the community…yet. Then one summer on a whim I moved to Austin, Texas. I’m a member of a support group and I wanted to attend a meeting. I brought my cue into the meeting, worried it would get stolen from the parking lot. Unless they play pool, most people don’t recognize a cue case. However, someone from the meeting noticed and after chatting for a while he invited me to be on his team. A couple of weeks later I really started to feel a part of the team, a part of a community and even more rooted in Austin itself.

Although I’ve returned to Portland, I’ve kept up on my game. After playing on a couple teams here I’ve settled into a small straight pool league, about 25-30 people. Straight pool is not as well known as most other games. In other words I play with people I endearingly call the “pool nerds.” After being in such a small league for an extended amount of time I started to really know everyone. It should be noted that I am by far the worst player in the league but I’ve also been playing for fewer decades than a lot of my teammates.

Besides destroying me in pool, these guys take care of me. Last session, they anonymously donated $20 towards my dues. They make sure I’ve eaten and am sufficiently caffeinated. They give me rides when I am running late. I’m not even kidding when I say that this one guy gave me a spare jacket when it started raining. They’re just about literally giving me the shirt off their backs.

Recently we lost a member of the league and we are all deeply saddened.

A few weeks ago my pool cue was stolen. I was careless and forgot to lock it in the cue locker like I usually do. I even had a dream that night that I had forgotten to lock up my cue and by the time I went back to the pool hall it was gone. It was a financial loss (pool cues are expensive) but, more importantly, I was surprisingly emotionally attached to it. My cue had been with me through a lot.

About a week and a half later the head of the league emailed me asking if I was going to be at the pool hall that morning. I was not but I told him I would most likely be there the next day, but early, probably leaving by ten at the latest. I inquired about why he was asking but he didn’t respond. The next day he showed up at 9:30 a.m. carrying an unfamiliar case. It was revealed that he had bought our former member’s cue (the one who had recently died) to give to me. Then it was revealed that someone else had offered to split the cost with him. Then it was revealed that someone else had too, and then finally the whole league decided to pitch in to give it to me.

Every time I tell this story I almost cry. I’ve also been warning all my opponents that my cue has 40+ years of good karma in it handed down to me so they better watch out.

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 I am a soon-to-be graduate of Marylhurst University with a major in Psychology and a minor in Music. I’ve completed a certificate in Professional Music at Portland Community College. Currently I am an assistant teacher for Vermont Hills Family Life Center, as well as preparing for a position as an intern in a day treatment center for elementary school aged kids at Lifeworks Northwest. I’m from Portland, Oregon and currently live there.

 

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Earlier today, before I headed into my afternoon of teaching, I heard that one of my favorite writers, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, had died at the age of 87. I immediately texted my dear friend and colleague Erica Wells to let her know, as Garcia Marquez is not only one of her favorite writers, too,  but also plays a central role in her Master’s thesis on old age in literature.  I invited Erica to write a gero-punk tribute to Garcia Marquez by way of reflecting upon the wonderful and fresh scholarly inquiry she conducted over a decade ago. For me, Erica’s thesis is an important moment in my own journey across the life course because at the time I was not only her thesis advisor, but soon-to-be close friend and comrade.  — jenny

In Memory:  Gabriel Garcia Marquez (1927-April 17, 2014)

by guest Gero-Punk

Erica Wells

erica 2

Memories have a life of their own, don’t they? Some disappear into our mind’s deep sea, never to surface again, while others remain on the surface, sparkling in the sunshine, clear as the day they were formed. That is how I recall coming across the work of Gabriel Garcia Marquez: a glittering moment in the midst of my foggy, struggling-to-stay-afloat graduate school days.

I was doing research for what was to become my thesis (Old Age in Literature: The Limits and Liberties of Aging) and looking for material that would help me combine my passion for reading with a way to talk about what was quickly becoming an obsession, namely, the question of how we can understand aging or old age when we have no first hand experience of it. We attach so many pre-conceptions, fears and problems to aging, yet our view of it is always from afar. We can’t know it until we live it ourselves. My intention was to demonstrate that one of ways we can understand aging was through novels. Literature and stories are how we know about all kinds of things that we are unlikely or unable to experience (historical events, life in different culture, a forbidden love affair, a murder mystery), so why not use novels to learn about later life? The problem, of course, was finding the right stories.

Here’s where the glitter comes in: a search engine entry in the winter of 2002. The following is taken directly from my printout, (result 49 of 68), so the words in bold and italic must have been my search terms:

Title: Literature and medicine: Garcia Marquez ‘Love in the Time of Cholera.’

Subject(s): LOVE in the Time of Cholera (Book); GARCIA Marquez, Gabriel; BOOKS

Source: Lancet, 10/18/87, Vol. 350 Issue 9085, p1169, 4p, 1bw

Author(s): Jones, Anne Hudson

Abstract: Considers how Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ ‘Love in the Time of Cholera,’ could be most important for young people to read. The book being the best ever written about aging; The theme of the book; The novel exploring aging as a time of discovery. INSETS: The indecency of old age; Old age illuminated by love.

Can you feel my heart racing? Could the language here be any more relevant to my inquiry? Wait, it gets better. Here’s the first line of Jones’ article: “Arguably the greatest novel ever written about ageing, Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ Love in the Time of Cholera may be a challenging text for those who need to read it most: the young, the would-be rational, and the impatient.” Granted, her intended audience was medical students and health-care professionals, but believe me, I knew she was speaking to me. More important, I knew I had to get started with this book immediately.

I had never read Garcia Marquez before and I was completely unprepared for the emotion and intensity that was about to be unleashed through his writing. Vivid detail, lengthy descriptions of flawed, passionate characters and mysterious, foreign places from another era, an epic love story, a sharp political and social commentary, quite a bit about medicine and yes, cholera, along with indeed some of the most poignant, powerful and lasting images of aging and old age I’d ever come across, and have yet to find again.

Would you mind reading a bit from my thesis now, to peek at how this extraordinary novel fit in to my understanding of aging and old age in 2003? I had spent a year with this book, and 4 others, attempting to find meaning in a life experience far from own reality, having just given birth to my first child at the age of 32. But here’s how it was for me then:

“This novel is the most unique and far-reaching in its depictions of old age, which range from a man who commits suicide to avoid growing old, to a man who refuses to let old age ruin his chance at rekindling the passionate love he first discovered in his twenties. Love in the Time of Cholera takes a dramatic and powerful look at the human life course and examines old age from a variety of angles. Because this novel takes place over the course of fifty-plus years, in reading it we are reminded that our later years are indeed a continuous part of our life experience, even if our physical selves have changed dramatically. As we grow old, we carry with us the history that makes us individuals. Our experiences, memories, fears and dreams combine to create our identity, which keeps the self intact even when the body does not cooperate. The power of the mind to maintain identity and therefore the self is one of the main themes of this story, and the characters embody this notion as they prepare for, enact or avoid their old age. Each character has their own way of coping to accommodate the changes aging brings to their lives, providing a realistic and honest portrayal of later life. Stereotypes are not relevant here, instead we are introduced to human beings who illustrate the amazingly full range of emotions one can only experience over a lifetime…The beauty of this novel is its ability to portray old age in all its forms, and still leave the reader hopeful for the possibilities of later life…If old age does not overwhelm us with its grim potentialities, we can open ourselves up to new possibilities. Instead of giving up, we can become truer versions of ourselves when we allow old age to be something more than an itemization of bodily changes and personal losses. Old age is challenging, but with effort and strength, it is our last opportunity to challenge the boundaries of personal pre-conceptions and social conventions.”

Writing this essay, re-reading my thesis and re-visiting the well-worn and often-flagged pages of the first copy of ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’ I purchased, (I had to buy a second copy so I could read without referencing my notes), I am reminded of how exciting it can be to come across something for the first time. Discovery and recognition are the scholar’s rewards in the process of inquiry. My students can relate to the tedious nature of research and the thrill of finding just the right source to satisfy our curiosity, all the while knowing it’s a temporary fix, for we will certainly come up with more questions. We are always pursuing knowledge, understanding and the answers to our burning questions about what it means to be human. For a long time, Garcia Marquez settled those questions for me, in surprising and eloquent ways. Perhaps it is time to re-read this treasured text again, with the perspective of my 43-year-old self to bring to the experience.

It wouldn’t be right to end this essay in my own words, so I will leave you with one of my favorite passages from the book (and there are many):

Speaking of Dr. Juvenal Urbino, one of the novel’s main characters, on his way back home to South America after finishing his medical studies in Paris at the age of 28, Marquez writes (translated from Spanish by Edith Grossman),

“In Paris, strolling arm in arm with a casual sweetheart through a late autumn, it seemed impossible to imagine a purer happiness than those golden afternoons, with the woody odor of chestnuts on the braziers, the languid accordions, the insatiable lovers kissing on the open terraces, and still he had told himself with his hand on his heart that he was not prepared to exchange all that for a single instant of his Caribbean in April. He was still too young to know that the heart’s memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past. But when he stood at the railing of the ship and saw the white promontory of the colonial district again, the motionless buzzards on the roofs, the washing of the poor hung out to dry on the balconies, only then did he understand to what extent he had been an easy victim to the charitable deceptions of nostalgia.” (p.105-6)

Garcia Marquez, G. (1988). Love in the time of cholera. New York: Penguin.

Marquez

Erica is a 2003 graduate of the Master of Arts in Interdisciplinary Studies program and member of the adjunct faculty at Marylhurst University. Since 2005, she has taught courses in human science inquiry and gerontology. Her day to day life revolves around orchestrating and facilitating the schedules of two curious and confident grade-schoolers, all while vainly attempting to establish a semblance of order to her surroundings. When the whirlwind of the school-week subsides, you can find her in the kitchen, experimenting with a cocktail shaker and savoring the company of friends and family as everyone toasts to togetherness and the simple pleasure of a good meal.

 

 

 

Posted on by Jenny Sasser, Ph.D. | 4 Comments