This month we celebrated the hundredth birthday of the inimitable Betty White, just days after her passing. Betty’s glee about her coming centennial was captured in a photo of her aiming a fire extinguisher at a hundred flaming candles on a teetering cake. It’s poignant that she was not here for the day itself. I’m grateful to the folks who started the Betty White Challenge, asking us to make a small donation to a local animal shelter in her memory. If, like me, you’re a Betty White fan, what a great way to commemorate a woman who did so much for animals, and who gave humans so much joy for so many years.
Betty White played with the social expectations for older women. She celebrated passion with a twinkle in her eye. “You’ve done so much in Hollywood,” one interviewer remarked to a white-haired Betty. “What haven’t you done that you wanted to do?”
“Robert Redford,” she said.
Now that is a vivid crone.
I loved her dimples and her mischief. Betty reminded me of my mother, who also passed away just before a milestone birthday, her 95th, on Thanksgiving 2020. To the end of her life, Mom never failed to notice an attractive man. She once recited a limerick so obscene that I’ll not trouble you with it here (send me an email if you really want to know).
Betty White made a difference in many people’s lives and in the lives of the many animals she assisted through her philanthropy. She loved life to the end. Until she left us, I did not quite realize what a role model she is for those of us pursuing a meaningful third act as it says in the hashtag, #belikebetty. But as we near the second anniversary of pandemic lockdown, it is tough to be as upbeat as Betty White. Sometimes I channel my inner Bea Arthur instead—she who as Maude once said to her television husband, “That's a lovely speech, Walter. Remind me when we have time to record it on tape so I can accidentally erase it.” Caustic and outspoken, Bea’s characters would have had some choice words about the pandemic.
I don’t know about you, but these days I’m burned out on weighing the risks and benefits of every step outside the house. The pandemic presents differently these days, apparently more contagious and less lethal. This month six people in my family have COVID, despite their precautions—even though everyone old enough to be eligible is vaccinated. Some of these beloved family members are repeat customers. This time around, none of them has been seriously ill. How to make choices given this changing reality? I’m just winging it and doing my share of complaining. How about you?
Amidst it all, I continue to be thankful for writing, that great source of bliss without risk. Along with my friend, the psychologist and artist Steeviejane Parks, I’m writing a workbook for women near the end of their careers, to help create a badass retirement. The yet-to-be-named workbook will be fun, transformative, and regenerative, with vivid illustrations and lots to think about. The book is modeled on Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey (except it will be the Heroine’s Journey). Stay tuned for more about that project.
And this Spring I’ll revise the script version of my novel Brilliant Charming Bastard to re-submit to The Writers’ Lab, a script development retreat sponsored by Meryl Streep and Oprah.
Then on to edit the draft sequel to the Bastard novel (another solarpunk creation, The Palace of Wisdom).
I call these goals, not resolutions, because I’m notoriously bad at New Years’ Resolutions. One year I resolved to drink more wine (on the theory that it would help me calm down). How easy was that? But even then, I didn’t follow through. So instead of resolutions, I’ll carve out a few guiding principles.
First, I want to build more connections with crones out there doing amazing things—especially women writing vivid work in their fifties, sixties and beyond. If that’s you, I want to hear from you, read your work, and celebrate you.
Second, I want to read more work by diverse authors: older women of color, older women with disabilities, older women who are LGBTQ+. Many writers face and write about lives that include challenges beyond the intersection of sexism and ageism. There is much to learn from these authors, and I’ll seek them out.
Third, I want to refocus on supporting older women who are becoming writers. Crones have much wisdom to share, many stories to tell. This past year I’ve concentrated on my own writing and promotion, which is great fun. But building a creative elder community requires bringing in apprentice crones too.
Fourth (or maybe it should have been first), I want to focus on gratitude. This pandemic is not an easy time for gratitude, and that makes it even more important. I am grateful for my beautiful family, my children and grandchildren. I am grateful for my wonderful partner who takes my scribblings and turns them into something worth sharing (and is so modest about it, I’ll have to convince him to leave this sentence in). [Edit: almost intact :-)]
I’m grateful for you reading this, and the entire burgeoning community of renegade older women. I am thankful for the wonderful reader reviews of my novel, Brilliant Charming Bastard. As a total nerd, I got a special kick out of the last two sentences of this one: “I enjoyed the innovative ideas that were presented even though they would be unlikely to work. If they worked, they wouldn’t have been given away for free in a novel.” So funny. But sometimes good ideas do come along for free; science fiction author Arthur C. Clark floated the idea of a satellite in geosynchronous orbit in Wireless World in 1945. Who knows? A person could do a lot worse than to be remembered as doing for biotech what Clarke did for satellites!
I’m wishing for all of us that 2022 will bring some resolution to the pandemic limbo in which we find ourselves. I wish for you an inspired creative year, when you take advantage of indoor days to write your stories, whether real, imagined, or hybrid. Let’s keep in touch, let’s build our connections, let’s live each day from the brim to the dregs.
Sending you every blessing for 2022.
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