“There is nothing permanent except change.” — Heraclitus
“The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.” —Alan Watts
As a person of a certain age — my favorite euphemism for old —change is an undeniable truth of life. As I write, it’s the eve of autumn, the changing of the seasons, and the day before a memorial service for a coworker, confidant, and friend. Things Change has also been the theme of this year, and the title of my 17th annual journal, which begin in September. It’s also the final chapter of my life — no longer a dress rehearsal — yet an opportunity “To change the things I can” and leave a legacy behind, the measure of my life.
Yesterday, Today, & Tomorrow
For those new to Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!, I’m a baby boomer, born in 1950, and a child of the 60s. I’m the eldest of six children from a blue-collar, working-class family from the Midwest. I dropped out of the university, not once, but twice, and received my education in the streets as a social activist and a hippie. I married my first love, Frank, and came out as a lesbian during the feminist consciousness-raising 70s. We separated and divorced. Gratefully, we remain in each other’s lives as chosen family. After a lesbian adolescence spent drinking and dancing in gay bars, I got sober, and have been in recovery for 39 years.
My work life, when young, was a series of jobs requiring physical labor. Later, my skills as a communicator and relationship manger led me to work in printing sales and as a print buyer, educational and retail publishing account manager, public relations project manager, and business development manager. I didn’t plan well financially for my future, so I continue to work half-time. However, it’s the work of my heart as an LGBTQ+ AODA Advocate for the OutReach LGBTQ+ Community Center in Madison, Wisconsin. Grateful.
As a reminiscence writer, essayist, and family historian, I write about my life, relationships, health, comment on culture and politics, and chronicle the changes I’ve navigated during my journey of 74 years. I am now the family elder, both on my patriarchal and matriarchal branches. With that, I feel some responsibility to capture the stories of our heritage, the generations that preceded us, and redefine my role with those I love.
The Lenzke Sibs (circa 1980, est.) Bottom right Kelly, moving up and left, Linda, Roz, Cindy, Tami, and Rick, center.
As I review my yesterdays and status today, I ask myself, “What’s ahead?”
Relationships
It’s been a few days since I wrote last. In the interim I attended the celebration of life of my coworker and friend, Kristi. I read a tribute to her, and hugged and grieved with all the people whose lives she touched: family, friends, coworkers, members of her church, community cohorts, and neighbors. We sometimes forget how intimately our lives intersect with a community.
I’m at that age when reading obituaries and attending memorial services are a common occurrence, rather than a rare event. In December, we said goodbye to our 93-year-old father. The past 18 months, I let go of two friends who died unexpectedly, plus the husband of a friend in recovery, a decades-long friend whose health had been deteriorating, a lover and friend from my young adulthood, and the son of a close friend. This does not include all the artists (writers, filmmakers, actors, musicians, painters, etc.) many of them my contemporaries, who contributed to the culture in which I grew up, plus celebrities, politicians, and the list goes on.
Dad’s UW Badger Red Casket shining in the sunlight
I’ve lived alone the past, almost 17, years. There was time I couldn’t tolerate or thrive without living with someone. When I was alone, I’d isolate, and default to the unhealthy, harming behaviors and substances I used to cope. Gratefully, recovery, therapy, and writing provided the tools I needed to address the trauma and stigma of my youth, and become comfortable in my own skin. Self-forgiveness, acceptance, and gratitude, plus the love and support of friends and peers, transformed my life.
Yes, things change. In the past, I sometimes I also isolated in my romantic relationships, often neglecting the friendships that were important to me. What I learned from that experience — to thrive — I needed to maintain emotional intimacy, and nurture a larger sphere of relationships. I was required to invest time, continuity, and commitment to a partner, plus friends, family, recovery peers, coworkers, and the larger community. One change, I’ve accepted as I’ve aged, is I need to ask for help, and yes, it takes a village!
These past years — I’ve created a chosen family — friends and former partners — to add to my bio family. During the pandemic, I identified friends who shared the same values and behaviors to remain healthy. They became my Pod Squad. Peers in recovery, help keep me accountable as I continue to remain sober and work on unhealthy and harming behaviors. As a person of a certain age, colleagues at my workplace, help me adapt to and evolve with the changes in language, identities, culture, and politics. Progress not perfection. Grateful.
Health
First, I’m grateful, that hopefully, I’ve inherited the longevity of the generations that preceded me. Though I’ve also inherited the genes and genetic predispositions from both parents, I hope I live as long as my father, and some of my mother’s family members who lived beyond the life expectancy of their generation. On the other hand, the health issues I manage, including a rare condition, are the result of my parent’s union, and full disclosure, my own lifestyle choices.
As a child and young adult, I was physically active, though I did struggle with my relationship with food and weight. The first 15 years of my working life, beginning at 16, not including five years of babysitting, I had jobs that were physical. I walked, rode my bike, and took public transportation, until I was 27 and purchased my first car. The combination of increased and accessible mobility and what would become decades of desk jobs, my life became more sedentary. Add to it again, my unhealthy, emotional, and compulsive overeating and propensity to retire to the couch at the end of the day, my weight increased and fitness decreased.
Add my genetic predisposition to alcoholism and my own choices, by my mid 30’s, my weight, smoking, sedentary lifestyle, and alcohol consumption took its toll on both my body and wellbeing. Gratefully, at the age of 35, I stopped drinking, and began a lifelong program of recovery, which included outpatient treatment, aftercare groups, therapy, and decades of 12-Step and Harm Reduction meetings. A year after getting sober, I quit smoking, and for years, including today, I continue to struggle with managing my weight and exercise.
Mom cross-stitched this Serenity Prayer when she went into recovery. It was displayed at her visitation, and after Dad died, per their wishes, I inherited it.
For the past 48 years, yes, you read that correctly, I see the dentist four times a year for preventive and emergency dental work for periodontal disease caused by an unfortunate inheritance of large teeth from one parent, a small jaw from the other, and bacteria that take advantage. I still have most of my teeth, plus one implant, though I can’t afford any more. When I look at the cost of dental work, even with insurance, it helps explain why I can’t afford vacations and travel. I’m grateful though, without the dental care I’ve received, my general health would be worse.
For over two decades I’ve been treated for Type II Diabetes, high blood pressure, and cholesterol. For the past decade for osteoarthritis. Though managing my health issues sometimes feels like a ‘whack-a-mole’ game, I’m grateful that I’m still ambulatory and my emotional and spiritual health is strong. At the age of 74, I’m still working half-time, socially active, and creative.
In the past 15 years, surgical interventions were required, beginning with carpal tunnel release surgery for both hands and cataract surgeries. In December 2022, a left hip replacement, and spring of 2023, an accidental fall caused a fractured humerus. For the past over two years, I’ve had countless physical therapy appointments. What I learned from those experiences is that I needed to ask for and accept help. Yes, “It takes a village!”
I’m glad I have Medicare, and by continuing to work half-time, I can afford a supplemental health insurance plan. I pay a high premium, though most of the out-of-pocket costs are covered, and I never hesitate and ask myself if I can afford to see a doctor, unlike many people, young and old.
Mounjaro GLP-1 Injection
The past few months, more change. After my yearly visit with my primary doctor, we discussed the impact of Type II Diabetes and weight on my overall heath. I was a candidate for the new GLP-1 medications to reduce my A1C, and take weight off my joints. I have bone-on-bone osteoarthritis in both shoulders, and osteoarthritis in my right hip, not yet a candidate for replacement, and both knees. Yikes!
This summer I had my hearing tested, it had been five years, when it was determined I had minimal hearing loss, primarily in the treble range. I now have moderate hearing loss and a candidate for hearing aids. In the past two weeks, I began taking my Mounjaro GLP-1 medication and test driving my OTC inner-ear-canal hearing aids. Adjustments to the latter still need to be made. Oh, My!
I’m grateful that I’m ambulatory, and for the most part, able to do the activities that give me pleasure and enhance my quality of life. I consider my body like a used car that I love — requiring more maintenance to keep running as I add mileage!
Home
The most recent change for my bio family and I was saying goodbye to our childhood home after our father’s death. Our parents purchased the house in 1955 and our 93-year-old father remained there, living independently with help from his children. After his death, the home in which we all grew up, made memories together, celebrated birthdays and holidays, anniversaries, marriages, births of the next generations, grieved the deaths of loved ones, and the list goes on, was sold.
Tami and my last visit home.
I’ve written a lot about home and what it means, the many moves I’ve made over the course of my life. The biggest move, was when I moved from my hometown of Racine, Wisconsin with my husband Frank at the age of 74. I knew I would thrive in Madison, after I attended a summer journalism workshop at the University of Wisconsin in 1967 at the age of 17. It was an exciting time and the city called me. I knew I would return one day and make it my chosen home. I’ve lived here 50 years.
Excerpts from an essay from my blog about moving, Within These Walls: Moving Stories:
“I was a bit of a vagabond however, before and after my arrival here in 1974. I’ve moved and established homes countless times for a number of reasons. I never owned a house, never fully put down roots. I always thought — or at least hoped — that each move would be my last, yet over the years I learned that things change as I do. And, with change comes this, “The first step in getting somewhere is to decide that you’re not going to stay where you are.”’
Another excerpt where I muse about the reasons people move:
“Sometimes we move for a job, or a relationship ends or begins, we move for economic reasons, to save money, or metaphorically move up in the world. We move to go back to school, or because we purchase or sell a home. We move to escape a dangerous or hostile situation, relationship, or neighborhood. We move because we’ve accepted a new job or lost one. We move because we’re evicted. We move because our family is growing, or someone dies, or children leave home and strike out on their own. We move because we can’t take care of ourselves anymore.”
To read more about my various moves including the reasons for the move, see the story below in the Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh, My! On the Move Again! which features my lifetime move-a-logue.
My next move — hopefully my last move — is currently manifesting in the dreaming stage. I’m having conversations with loved ones on how to live cooperatively and share common space, yet maintain our own individual dwelling. I want a smaller, manageable footprint, a tiny home, or accessory dwelling unit, in a more rural environment in nature, where I can age-in-place. I envision myself having my morning Cup-a-Joe on my deck, while listening to the sounds of birds, the wind rustling leaves, and the sun rising from the horizon. Grateful.
From my Tiny Home dream book.
“In life, a person will come and go from many homes. We may leave a house, a town, a room, but that does not mean those places leave us.” — Arik Berk
Work
Like the many moves and homes in my life, my work career has been similar in how my work life evolved. I dropped out of the university, not once, but twice. Though I was smart, academically-tracked, I lacked self-discipline and study skills. It was 1968 when I first attended the University of Wisconsin, at my hometown campus in Racine. It was an exciting time and I was distracted by the social activism of the late 60’s, the antiwar movement, civil rights, and alternate lifestyle as a hippie. I also met and fell in love with my first love, Frank, who would later become my husband.
As I shared in the introduction of this essay:
“My work life, when young, was a series of jobs requiring physical labor. Later, my skills as a communicator and relationship manger led me to work in printing sales and as a print buyer, educational and retail publishing account manager, public relations project manager, and business development manager. I didn’t plan well financially for my future, so I continue to work half-time. However, it’s the work of my heart as an LGBTQ+ AODA Advocate for the OutReach LGBTQ+ Community Center in Madison, Wisconsin.”
In January, I turn 75, yet I hope to work a couple more years as I prepare for the next chapter of my life, creating and settling into a new home, and finally, fully retiring from a ‘work life’ and transitioning to a ‘creative and contemplative life.’
Culture & Technology
Things change is an understatement of the almost seven decades of change I’ve experienced. As a person of a certain age, I often fear not keeping up to the changes and slip behind the times. This quote from Ray Bradbury sums it up for me, “Life was much easier when apple and blackberry were just fruits.”
I must acknowledge all the new technology tools are both timesavers and time-suckers. An excerpt from my essay, My Love/Hate Relationship with Technology (link to the full story below in Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!):
“My earliest memories featured the technology of the mid-1950’s. While the first home I remember was a rental, and the iceman still delivered ice for the icebox, my parents were early adopters of their first television in 1955, a small black and white screen in a wooden cabinet with a fabric-covered speaker. I’d sit watching my favorite shows, Roy Rogers, The Lone Ranger, Cisco Kid, Sky King, and soon Garfield Goose, Kukla Fran & Ollie, The Howdy Doody Show, Captain Kangaroo, Ding Dong School, and Romper Room. Literally, you get the picture and it explains a lot on how I became the person I am today.”
“Our phone had a rotary dial and probably weighed at least 5 pounds or more, and we were a ‘party-line’ household, sharing phone service with neighbors. The first car my parent’s owned was a cream and bronze two-tone, four-door, 1956 Chevy Bel-Air. I wish I possessed that car today, not only for its classic 1950’s styling, but for the simplicity of its operation.”
Probably the biggest changes for someone who entered college in 1968, were, unlike today, we didn’t have personal computers or cell phones, the internet, or Google, instead we had typewriters, and card catalogues, rotary phones in our homes, and pay phones when away from home.
“I still consider myself a late adopter of technology and sometimes I take baby steps to incorporate a new tool in my life. I created a Twitter account that I don’t use, I’ve not used Instagram, What’s Up, Snap Chat, Tik Tok, dating and hookup apps (you can stop laughing now), and the list goes on.”
I’ve been playing ‘catch up’ ever since. I’m grateful, for the most part, that I’ve been able to ‘keep up’ with help. Most recently, with the assistance of my nephew Quinn, who is on the verge of graduating with a degree in computer science, in August, he helped me purchase new technology tools to replace those that aged out. They ranged from 8-16-years old including a TV, cell phone, printer, and laptop.
Quinn setup everything for me over the course of a day and a half. I was impressed by his seamless mastery of technology, while I couldn’t remember passwords and accounts fast enough, so he could complete his steps. He was patient with me responding, “No worries!” I remembered how I babysat him 22-years-earlier, and now he was essentially babysitting me. When I mentioned it, with grace and wisdom, he replied, “Linda, it’s just the cycle of life!”
Somedays, I wonder if I need a new operating system, a brain reboot, and memory upgrade. A common sign of aging for me is the time that it takes to recall names, movie, and book titles, and the list goes on. My primary care doctor reassures me it’s not the first sign of dementia, simply aging.
Culture too has triggered tremendous changes and evolution, from how we communicate, consume content, conduct transactions, work in-person and/or remotely, and many more. Though change was sometimes slow — and we often take two steps forward and one step back — the rights of BIPOC and marginalized communities, women, and an individual’s gender identity, how we treat mental illness and recovery from substances, alcohol, and harming behaviors, plus the ways we protect young people and women, have for the most part, become less stigmatizing and shaming.
A note for younger generations: Please be patient. I have a lot of catching up to do, adapting, continued education, an inventory of my values, confront my internalized racism, and be conscious of my language, respecting the identity of others. I will do my best. Please consider the differences caused by generational change, whether in our homes, relationships, work, and culture and be accepting and tolerant, and I will do my best to be patient with you too.
Having said that, our current political environment, the regressive and oppressive climate of the culture wars, is a crisis of critical proportion. Those with privilege, money, and power, based on race, gender, or religious beliefs are resisting change and desperately holding onto power. We are in this together and as a democracy and a community, we need to look out for each other rather ‘othering’ based on age, identity, race, economic status, or religious beliefs.
As a person of a certain age, I ask, “Who knows what tomorrow may bring?” We can only be certain that things change!
Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!
Relationships
Health
The Skinny on Medicalized Obesity
It Takes a Village: Lessons Learned
Letter to Loved Ones (Just in Case)
Home
Home: Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow
Work
Dispatch from the Hideout: Social Distancing
Culture & Technology
Linda, this was like reading a long letter from a faraway good friend who’s writing in the era of postal mail. Delightful! I share your desire for a life in community with a little privacy for all. I fantasize about buying a defunct north woods supper club-motel for adaptive reuse. Want in on the dream? 😉
Sarah, as always, thank you for your kind words. I hope it didn’t sound like an extended run-on Annual Holiday Letter. As I wrote it, I felt like I was at a branching point (yes, I was paying attention in class!), and I wanted to document my status and the changes, both behind and ahead of me. Thank you for the invitation to fantasize about a north woods cooperative living community. I’m dreaming about something closer to home, so I can still access all I love about Madison, and remain close to my bio and chosen family, friends, and community cohorts.