The perspective of a 90 year old woman

Well, we have had a whole lotta nothin’ happening with the Great Water Leak of 2015 here at Woodhaven. We are waiting for a complicated estimate to be submitted to our insurance company. After another week or two of back and forth for approval, then...maybe then...we can try to squeeze onto the schedules of about seven different contractors. In the meantime, we are mostly enjoying the cool breeze from the underside of our house. Whoo hoo exposed crawl space!

Thankfully, we have had a few fun distractions from the billowing plastic sheeting decorating our living room and bathroom. One involved an airplane and literally getting away from all the reminders of a house disrupted. Ahhhh!

A couple of weeks ago, my grandma turned 90 years old. She is the last grandparent either Rob or I have left to impart wisdom and share stories. And given her spunk, there’s a chance she will outlive us all. She doesn’t look or act 90 years old. See? Even the interwebs agree.

Grandma and I are huge fans of this app.  Rob, not so much.

There was a big shindig thrown in Grandma’s honor, hence the airplane. There were at least 100 people there; I knew maybe 10 of them. Grandma has lived a long, well-connected, busy life. You see, she is a real estate agent. Yes, is not was. At her party she announced she had just renewed her real estate license for another four years. Business cards were available on the back table. Did I mention spunk?

Many of the people fêting Grandma were people she knew through her work life. Mortgage brokers, insurance people, other agents, electricians, plumbers, renters. It was quite a networking opportunity for a newbie agent in town. Wisely, I don’t think any of those were invited.

As people shared memories and told stories, I got to learn about a grandma I didn’t know. I mean, I certainly thought I knew Working Grandma quite well. In fact, this photo from a decade or so ago pretty much sums up my childhood memories of her:

I based the age of the photo on the phone.
Note that she now has an iPhone and an iPad.

When we would visit, Grandma’s office phone in the den would ring pretty constantly. Her car’s trunk (a Pontiac – never anything but a Pontiac) always had “For Sale” signs in it. My first home manicures were done using emery boards advertising her agency. Overheard conversations often involved carpet and paint and troublesome tenants. So I knew the long hours and Open House weekends and heavy sighs of escrows going sideways. But what I didn’t know was the manner in which Working Grandma actually worked.

Over and over, party attendees remarked how honest Grandma is. How you can always trust her word, how she will always give things to you straight, how punches are never pulled. Integrity, hard-working, dependable. Such kind words! And such a gift to hear them at a time when I could go over to her afterwards and hug her and tell her how proud I am to be her granddaughter. Sadly, such public appreciation is often left until it is too late to be fully appreciated by all involved.

The day after the party, I had a wonderful few hours to take advantage of Grandma’s 90 years of wisdom. A real estate agent is responsible for many things that are out of their control. I would last about a week. Grandma has lasted more than 60 years. I asked her how she has managed the stress in such a chaotic profession.

“I don’t drink.”

Naturally she was joking, so I laughed quite loudly. But she wasn’t joking.

“I drink when I am happy, but it is a dangerous path if you drink when something goes wrong. I have seen it happen too many times.”

Huh. Very wise words. Words that really don’t impact how I live my life, but wise nonetheless.

Grandma then went on to explain that she is often known to go see movies in the middle of the day, just to get away from people and the phone to regroup. She also takes walks.

These seemed like such simple ideas. I was honestly hoping for something more meaty, more inspired. Something new I could use to lighten up my Type A Personality world. But I already am very well-versed in introversion, and I am pretty dedicated to my daily walks. Bummer! I wanted a pearl, a nugget, some new technique to latch onto for the next 40+ years.

Veering off, Grandma then told stories of when she and Grandpa and my young dad militarily lived in Turkey in the early 1950s. And when they visited Jerusalem just a few years after Israel became an independent nation. And stories of being rushed around and running for fear of being Americans stranded in places Americans weren’t particularly welcomed.

At the end of that last story, Grandma noted, “You know, after you have been pushed around by men carrying big guns, a bad escrow really isn’t anything to get excited about.”

And there it was, the nugget: Perspective.

It is so easy (for me) to get all wrapped up in details and imperfection and some innate and hugely annoying drive to make things just so. I don’t know where I get it. (Hi, Dad!)

While Grandma is expert at it (I have watched in amazement for years), I kinda suck at just shrugging my shoulders. I mean, I am a lot better at it than I used to be say, 7 or 8 years ago, but I still have a hard time just letting things be.

I try to have faith, and I try to trust that things will work out and I will be able to handle (with help) any calamities that might come my way. But I can still get worked up. And that’s not a terrifically fun or healthy way to approach the world.

So, by the wisdom of Grandma, what I need is perspective. I need to learn to step back from all the details and realize how inconsequential many of them actually are. I am blessed that I really don’t have many Really Scary Sucky Moments in my life to use as benchmarks. I have a couple, though, and that should be enough.

And so, in the grand scheme of my life and moments, the Great Water Leak of 2015 really isn’t anything to get excited about.

Thank you, Grandma!