I just finished reading an article in AARP Magazine written by Bob Brody, an essayist and author. The article, entitled Relearning the Fine Art of Doing Nothing, reminded me that a walk around the park isn’t a race, nor should it be. Since my Bob (Robert Vander Meer) passed away May 30, 2024, I seem to be trying to outdistance my grief. Busy, busy, busy!
Brody’s article has me rethinking that approach. Maybe it’s okay to enjoy the good times as they come and not worry about whether I’m doing enough to stay engaged with life. I’m 80. Just how much engagement do I need? Well, enough to avoid isolation, but not so much I feel unduly pressured.
A good friend (also a widow), and I have agreed to start walking around a local park now that the days are getting longer, and the weather is improving. We’re building stamina for a trip we plan to take this summer that will require some degree of strenuous walking. I’m using the aid of a rollator (four-wheeled rolling walker for those of you who aren’t there yet), my friend under her own steam. After reading Brody’s article it occurred to me that with the help of the rollator, I can step right out, sometimes leaving my friend a few steps behind. Why? Because I’ve always believed that when you were headed out the door, there must be some place you had to be. For me, getting there (wherever there was) on or ahead of schedule has always been paramount.
After reading Brody’s article, I thought back to a time when just being a kid was the only thing I had to do, running wild through trees and brush, finding a hidden waterfall and underground tunnels, going places that would have given my mother a heart attack, had she known. Oh, my! Did we have fun and not a care in the world.
So, maybe, instead of racing around the park, I’ll slow down so my friend and I may talk to the dog walkers and tourists along the way, or maybe just admire the beauty all around, and the gorgeous buildings that make our town unique. And simply be.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel lighter in my heart because in this town where we lived many happy years together, I’ll feel the joy once more of being alive – as my Bob would say – in this great big, beautiful world. *Il dolce far niente, my friends.
*The sweetness of doing nothing.
It’s happening in Europe, Australia and Canada. Can it happen here? The idea is that if you have a 
d a year. I’m not kidding, I did. Most of last year I said I was 72. A couple of weeks ago, Bob corrected me (isn’t that what husbands are for?). This is the second time I’ve done this. When I turned 57, I said I was 58, so right up until my 58th birthday, at which point I found out I’d been 57 working toward 58, I was older and younger at the same time. Anyway, the point is in two days I will be 72. I’ve left 71 in the dust, but that’s okay because I never knew I was 71. Now that I’m going to be 72 I’m okay with it, after all I’ve been living with it for a year already.
The lilies were a wonderful surprise, but the biggest surprise was the three – yes THREE – birthday cards that accompanied the plants. I can’t begin to explain those cards except that every one of them contained an inside joke. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt!
Sharon Vander Meer 