Pamela Foster's Blog

Facebook now has a dating site.  And Zuckerman and his minions make it so very easy. A few clicks and autofill had done the rest.

Looking for chatting and friendship.

Let’s see who’s out there in the biosphere.

Well, it turns out there are any number of kind, intelligent men out there who are actually looking for a woman my age. Or, possibly, there are two prisoners with laptops creating profiles by loading random pictures from the internet. Either way, pretty quickly I was chatting aw...

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When this shelter-in-place began, my oldest son volunteered to do my shopping. Id text him a list of what I needed and hed pick it up along with his own groceries, and leave my supplies outside my door. And that worked well for the first week or so. But, recently, news would suggest that people his age, and especially smokers which he is, may be just as vulnerable to this virus as me a healthy sixty-nine year old. So, Ive decided to do my own shopping from now...

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I have not been sleeping well. My bedtime routine is now an hour long relaxation routine. A hot, steamy shower. Lotion. Clean panties and soft t-shirt. Stretch out on the bed and relax into a thirty minute body scan. And, last and as my nightly dessert a chapter in Clarissa Pinkola Estes The Dangerous Old Woman on Audible read by the ultimate grandmother, the author herself.

And still, I wake every hour, heart pounding, a dream slipping below the surface. Last night the dream came close...

A week ago, I felt young. Well, not young exactly. The earth’s curve exposed my last sunset, but it was a good long way off. Today, that approaching sunset is brilliantly lit. A huge red sphere sinking into the sea, my feet already wet and salty at its edge. A week ago, I adhered to the recommendations to shelter in place so as not to endanger our vulnerable population — the old, the infirm, those whose immune systems are compromised.

Today, hunkered down in my one room house with Nickie, my gi...

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A week ago, I felt young. Well, not young exactly. The earths curve exposed my last sunset, but it was a good long way off. Today, that approaching sunset is brilliantly lit. A huge red sphere sinking into the sea, my feet already wet and salty at its edge. A week ago, I adhered to the recommendations to shelter in place so as not to endanger our vulnerable population the old, the infirm, those whose immune systems are compromised.

Today, hunkered down in my one room house with Nickie, my...

[image error]Fifty-four years ago, after a movie at the Eureka Theater, I became, for the first time in my life, somebody’s special someone. Since this was March in the Pacific Northwest, it’s likely we were obscured in thick fog, but in my memory there was a night sky brilliant with stars as we held each other and he asked me to wear his ring. The ring was borrowed and cheap tin, but that was then, and is now, of no importance whatsoever. As a symbol it worked just fine. I don’t remember the movie we...

This week I turned off my cable TV. At $123 a month, it was simply too expensive for me. I purchased a Fire Stick and paid a computer tech to come to my house and set my TV up with Netflix, and Hulu. He told me I also have access to Amazon Prime, so I have that available on my TV, too. Most of you could install this system on your own and skip the hourly fee for the computer tech. At the best of times, my brain is not great with technical tasks. Right now, the installation of a couple of Apps...

My creative spark, long dormant, is reaching toward the light. I am not sick, but rather I offer this to you as a celebration of life, of my life in particular, and in the joy and surprise each day gifts to us.

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Do not seek for me among the dead,

But, rather, among the living.

Do not trace your trembling finger along cold stone

And mourn for my warmth.

Rather,

Look for me where redwoods weave roots and reach into the heavens,

Where homeless curl inside burnt stumps left by long-dead loggers,

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Winter wind shakes the gnarled fingers of barren trees at a gray sky.  In a few months, those same trees will bud and then burst into bloom, send forth new growth. In the depth of personal loss, we are often reminded by those who seek to provide comfort that joy does, in truth, cometh in the morning. Happiness, these good folks tell us, will return just as spring follows winter. But, this comparison, as it pertains to the losses that come with aging, is a false equivalency.

A more apt image...

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I have become weighted down in my chosen role as the victim. Yes, I am in a somewhat difficult position. My husband is three hundred miles south of me slowly dying of a horrid, progressive disease which has messed up his cognition as well as devastated his body. Dementia is not easy. My job search, at 68 and with a quirky back due to childhood scoliosis and full-spinal fusion, has not led to a single offer of employment. Hell, I haven’t even made it to a second interview and there have been...