Meet Ed

I never planned to feature a man.

Then I met Ed. Hours after we went our separate ways, I realized this total stranger had left such an imprint on my life, I had to share his story.

I work at a home furnishings store and last week, Ed and his wife Sue came in to buy a throw. Sue moved extremely slow as if she just got out of surgery and every step was pure agony. Ed patiently trailed behind as I guided Sue to the display tables. He stood nearby while she deliberated which color was best and whether she should even buy it.

"How long have you two been married?" I asked attempting to fill the time.

Sue smiled, but didn't answer. Instead, she looked at Ed.

"Fifty nine years," he said.

"Wow, what's your secret?"

I noticed Sue's vibrant blue eyes and silver white bob. Just a hint of mascara coated her lashes and she wore a soft pink lipstick. She had a chunky Grandma-type figure (short with rounded edges) and wore a white sweater set with tan high waisted pants and spotless white leather sneakers.

Again, Sue smiled at Ed, a lean silver haired Grandpa-type in a collared shirt, khakis and a navy canvas zip-up jacket. He looked down, smiled, then turned toward me as if I asked directions and he was trying to figure out the most direct route.

"A lot of hard work and a lot of prayin'," He said, adding, "Sue's had health issues."

Together, they ran down her ailments. Around 20 years ago, Sue slipped on black ice, fell down a flight of stairs and laid outside with a crushed ankle and her leg broke in four places.

"My hair nearly froze off," she said.

A few years later, Sue had a brain tumor and then surgery to remove it, followed by a heart attack and  surgery for a pacemaker. Most recently, she had a stroke that left her paralyzed on one side.

"That's been the hardest," Sue said slowly, explaining how she's had to learn everything all over again.

I looked over at Ed who was watching his wife. His kind eyes told what he never said, how he's learned to accept the changes, her limitations and find joy in the added responsibilities.

I'm a sucker for a good love story, but in an attempt to not lose control, I quickly changed the subject.

"How was your Thanksgiving?"

"Great," Sue said.

"We had 18 people over," Ed added.

"Who cooked?" I blurted out before out before I could can catch myself. "I mean, did everyone bring something?"

Sue just smiled and looked at Ed.

"I did the cooking," Ed said. "I learned how in the army."

Ed made chicken, stuffing, potatoes, macaroni and cheese, broccoli, sweet potatoes, turnip greens and at least five other dishes, along with a coconut cake.

"The only thing I can't make is biscuits. The dough sticks to my fingers," he said, mimicking how he wipes the dough off.

Hours later, I recognized the gift Ed left behind.

He reminded me if you're married or committed to someone, the secret to aging gracefully together is three-fold. Savor the good. Accept the "whoa-I-never-thought-I'd-be-doing-this" parts. And third, find joy in the every day things, the simple little stitches that bind your souls.

Meet Laura

Laura, center, with her children (L to R) Ted, Will, Seth and Betsy

     Laura looks healthier than most people her age, yet she lives with a chronic illness that requires her to visit the local hospital once a month for the rest of her life. If she didn't, she would die. 

     You would never know it looking at Laura or even spending time with her because Laura chooses to not let her illness define her. Along the way, she's also learned to trust pain and not be afraid of it. 

     In August 2006, Will, one of Laura’s four children, was home from college and noticed her feet were swollen. Laura, an active Realtor, professional school fundraiser, and wife of a minister, stopped long enough to check her blood pressure. The reading was normal.

     At 49-years old, Laura didn’t think much about it. For years, she’d taught swim lessons and coached teams. She was an avid walker and took yoga and weight classes. She knew little aches and pains, even swelling, sometimes come with daily exercise. Laura also knew she was more tired than usual, but she attributed it to having two children still at home and in high school. Betsy, her only daughter, was in her senior year.

     However, two weeks later when her symptoms didn’t go away, she consulted a doctor. Both her white and red blood counts were dangerously low. Her red count should fall between 39 and 45.

     “Mine was 26. You start losing brain cells at around 22 because you don’t have any oxygen. You can go into cardiac arrest,” she explained.

     Her white count should fall between 5,000 and 8,000. “Mine was 2,000,” she added.

     The next day, Laura and her husband drove to a specialist. On the way, Laura started to have a heart attack. Her heart was pumping too fast. They made it to the hospital where she was admitted for testing and days of poking and prodding.

Laura with Kenny, her husband of 29 years. "Getting sick was the best thing for our marriage," Laura said. "Kenny was just a rock star - all the shots, all the things he did - twice we took a break for a week from all the doctor visits and treatments. One week, he took me to a movie every day. He kept our head on for us. He kept things stable and calm."

     Two weeks later without a diagnosis, she was sent home. Kenny learned how to to give her shots every day. Nothing made her better. She felt like she had the worse case of mono. Everything ached. Just walking the 20 feet from the house to the car zapped her energy.

     Over the next eight months while doctors tried to diagnose her symptoms, Laura was admitted into the hospital 14 times, endured 14 blood transfusions (one every three weeks) four bone marrow aspirations (“craaaazy” painful, she said), received three rounds of chemo, participated in numerous experimental treatments, and had her spleen removed.

     Not surprisingly if you know Laura, she was never alone. Besides Kenny and the children, throughout the journey, she’d wake up and find hospital staff – doctors, nurses, and technicians – praying beside her bed.

     In the end, Laura discovered not only had she been exposed to tuberculosis while living overseas but worse, she was born with a compromised immune system.

     “I don’t have two components in my immune system,” she said.

     If left untreated, Laura could have died. Now once a month, she gets up early and drives herself to the hospital. For 10 hours straight, she sits quietly in a chair surrounded by other patients, some, just days from death, while an IV drips her missing blood products into her vein. Then she drives herself home and spends the next 12 hours sick to her stomach.

     This procedure has become part of Laura’s life but it doesn’t define her. She trusts God’s plan although she continues to challenge her body.

     Nearly two years ago, after getting her doctor’s approval, Laura and I trained for our first half marathon together. Each week, we’d text each other to confirm our walking times before meeting. One day, she didn’t respond. 

     “Where were you yesterday?” I asked as we race walked our 8-mile course along the river and through old town, past mothers pushing babies in carriages and elderly couples strolling in silence holding hands.

     “Oh sorry, it was my hospital day,” Laura said.

Meet Safka

I heard Safka before I saw her on the side of Buchanan Street, one of Glasgow's charming pedestrian thoroughfares. It was a typical miserably cold November day, the kind that makes both locals and tourists walk quicker and talk less, anything to stay warm and dry.

Standing in the rain, Safka, a plump elderly woman with a babushka tied under her rolled chin, played her accordion to the moving audience peering out from under their hoods and umbrellas.  Her gloved thick fingers sailed over the keyboard as she pumped the bellows and swayed to her music. Safka didn't skip a beat as she thanked the occasional passersby who dropped tokens in her bag.

And she also didn't move under the nearby building's overhang.

I left to eat lunch. An hour later, Safka was still standing there in the same spot, playing the same song. I dropped a few coins in her bag and asked some questions. Safka is 77 years old, Romanian and beyond that, couldn't or wouldn't speak English.

Then she smiled and thanked me as if I was a close friend who came to watch her perform. I thought, I should be thanking her for playing, albeit the same tune, like the sun was shining on Buchanan.

Meet Valerie

Sometimes people come into your life in the most bizarre places, and you don't realize they'll leave such a lasting impression until after you part ways.

A few weeks ago, I was flying home from New York and had to change planes in Charlotte.  On my way to my next gate, I dashed into the ladies' room for a quick pit stop in Terminal C. It was early - maybe 7:30 a.m. - and I'd been up for hours. That's when I heard Valerie.




There I was relieving my bladder, minding my own business in my own little stall when I first heard her singing. I listened while I washed my hands and walked out. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but at first, I found her singing annoying. Then a funny thing happened on my way to my next gate: Valerie's little "diddy" got stuck in my brain. A week went by and it was still there. Another week - still there. Finally, it hit me.

Valerie has taken a menial, rather depressing job and made it enjoyable. I know nothing about her - how old she is, how long she's been wiping down toilet seats and sink counters, picking up women's trash and going home each day smelling like a public bathroom. None of that matters.

Valerie reminded me to find the joy and humor in life. Next time I fly through Charlotte, I'll be sure to thank her.

Meet Dottie

Last May, at around 5:30 a.m. one morning, 87-year old Dottie woke up when she heard someone in her house.

"Mom? It's me," her daughter said after letting herself in with a spare key. "You need to get your checkbook. Take your valuables and your dog and and drive up to the clubhouse."

Like hundreds Middle Tennesseans, within hours, this independent widow lost practically everything when five-feet of water eventually flooded the main level of her home in a storm that killed 32 people state-wide and caused over 17,000 people to request assistance from the Federal Emergency Management Agency.  


With the help of her daughter and son-in-law, Dottie eventually waded through knee-deep water to safety, while her furniture and collectibles she acquired with her late husband of almost 50 years were destroyed, racks of clothing ruined and photographs of family and friends damaged. Even her car was totaled. 

After the water dissipated, everything was covered with a thin layer of dirt.

The weight of the wet clothes caused the entire clothes rack to pull out of the wall.

Wet clothes were separated into piles after the storm. 

Everything was removed to the studs and dried out before her home could be rebuilt.

"Life is what you make it. We're going to survive this,"

she said. Dottie, as well as her daughter and son-in-law who live nearby (and also lost most of their belongings), didn't have flood insurance. After the storm, Dottie's other daughter (who lives out of state) called and said, "'Don't worry about what you lost.' Over the last couple months, she scoured estate sales and consignment shops, even through me a 'flood shower.'

"I could not believe all the nice things that could happen because of one bad thing. I lost treasures, but I gained so much more."

I first heard about Dottie from a friend who said, "She's one of the most positive people I've ever met." After our first meeting in the temporary home she has been sharing with her daughter and son-in-law - a generous gift from some friends - I had to agree. Dottie is charming, humble, and her enthusiasm for life, infectious. She deals with life's challenges head-on. 

Around five years ago, she sold the Midwest home she built and shared with her late husband. She left her lifelong friends, her volunteer work and bought a smaller attached home near her daughter and son-in-law. 

"The winters were getting to me. My grandchildren and great grandchildren were here. I realized that the longer I waited (to downsize) the more of a burden I'd become. I've always been an independent woman. I never wanted to be beholding to anyone," she said, then added, "But, if my two daughters hadn't helped though, I would have brought two times the stuff."

She admits moving wasn't easy, but Dottie joined the local YMCA's senior program to make new friends and signed up for day trips to learn the area. After reading about FLIP (Friends Learning in Pairs), an intergenerational tutoring program that provides one-on-one sessions with elementary age public school children, she applied to become a trained volunteer.  The program looks for volunteers with a high level of enthusiasm and commitment.  

"I try and not let down times get me down,"

she said during my second visit as her not-so-petite, well-fed dog and constant companion nuzzled against her. I thought she was referring to the flood, but I soon realized that attitude applies to everything in her life. Two years ago, during her regular breast exam, the doctor discovered a tumor which required Dottie have a lumpectomy and go through radiation. 

"It wasn't that bad," she said. "I met people much worse than me. The hospital was great and the people were very friendly."

A few weeks ago, I visited Dottie again, this time at a rehabilitation hospital shortly after she had hip surgery. This was her second hip surgery and years earlier, she'd gone through knee replacement. When I asked her how the recovery was going, she said,

"Not bad. This time I knew what to expect. - 
I'll be fine."

Dottie's Tips to Age Gracefully

• Put yourself out there. Believe in yourself. Nothing is impossible.
• Stay positive.
• Expose yourself to new things. (Dottie reads the newspaper every morning, watches both the local and national news, watches TV game shows, reads biographies, and loves to go to the movies. Her favorite? Sex and the City. “My daughter said, ‘You sure you want to see it?’ 
• “A friend of mine says, ‘Make sure your brain’s engaged before you open your mouth.’”
• Exercise. Dottie goes three times a week to a special class at the YMCA that exercises every muscle. 

Sonje Mayo

You're never too old to look and feel better

"As we age, we need to eat and exercise wisely," says Sonje Mayo, former professional dancer/choreographer/physical therapist and 65-year old Pilates instructor. 

Sonje's tips for eating and exercising:

1. Get your heartbeat up for 21 minutes max several times each week. Getting on a machine for 45 minutes is pointless. You want minimal wear and tear on your joints. 
2. Your core is everything, not only to protect your back, but to take the weight off your legs as we age. 
3. Martha Graham used to say, "Don't come with a bald face" to class. Hair is very important. If you look good, you feel good.
4. Don't eat HUGE portions. Protein the size of your palm, that's all you need at a serving.
5. Worst food someone can eat is sugar. 
6. Eat the fat, just don't eat this low fat nonsense. If you're going to eat butter or eat cheese, eat the real thing. BUT eat less!
7. Eat fruits and vegetables. Any kind. Whatever's seasonal. 

Sonje's Story

At first, Sonje Mayo's charming South African accent is a tad distracting. The same is true of her physique. At 65-years old, she has some wrinkles, but she moves like a 20-something ballet dancer. No lie. No exaggeration. Honest-to-God truth.

"Hello, my darling. Come in, sit down. Let's get to know each other," she said, during my initial consultation. A friend/yoga instructor suggested I meet her. For nearly a year, my back was causing all sorts of pain. After a series of x-rays, a Cat Scan, several cortisone shots and months of chiropractic adjustments and treatments - all covered by medical insurance - I wasn't any better.

So I scheduled a series of Pilates classes with Sonje Mayo, some private, some "duo" classes using the equipment and a series of group mat classes. It was during my first mat class that I had, let's call it, my "wake-up call."

Lying on my back with my legs at a 45-degree angle, I listened to Sonje count. At any moment, I thought she would complement me on my form. Instead, I glanced down to find her French manicured finger nail pointing an inch above my navel.

"Pull it eein, eein and up!" she cried. "Tuck your ribs, elongate your tail bone. Come on now! I don't want to see any sausage rolls! Pull it eein! Pull it eein and UP!"

In that split second, I realized that behind the proper accent and inside that sculpted body was a perfectionist who expects her clients to stay focused and not just go through the motions. I was there to work hard, get stronger and hopefully eliminate the pain in my back.

Truth be known, Sonje hates slackers. If you're hurt, that's different. If you're lazy, no excuse. And if you whine? Well, take my word, just don't. In hindsight, it's what I should have expected from an acclaimed internationally known choreographer.

Talk about a core workout!
The black platform is attached by springs below the bar that Sonje Mayo's feet are resting on. Using her core strength, she moves the black platform to the left then slides it back carefully so the springs don't slam. 

It's also what I'd expect of a former Alvin Ailey dancer and physical therapist. She's focused on one thing and that's to make her clients' cores stronger and in so doing, protect their backs and knees.

Meet Mildred

Early one sticky morning, while slouched on an old wood bench nursing my coffee, I heard about Mildred. I confess. I eavesdropped at the dog park.

Nearby, her granddaughter Sarah and a handful of locals swatted flies and swapped stories about the heat wave. Casually, as if it was no big deal, Sarah mentioned her 88-year old grandmother Mildred’s air-conditioning went out.

Mildred, Sarah and Sarah's dog, Dali

“She lives alone in the Midwest. Until the repair man comes, she’s been spending time in her basement.”

I couldn't help butting in. "What does she do down there all day?”