Who am I vs. how do I look?

I have reached the stage in life where I am almost obsessed with figuring out exactly who I am, leaving the “how do I look” to those at least 60 years my junior.

Yes, that’s right. At 20 years of age, I was haunted with how I looked to other people. Coming from a family of very beautiful looking women who had done absolutely nothing to develop anything else than the maximum when it came to their looks, I would look in the mirror, sigh, and realize that I was destined to be an ugly duckling, so what else could I concentrate on? And since the men in my family were much smarter, wittier, and infinitely more charming than I – with what did this leave me?

I decided I was going to be the best mother I could be and do everything completely differently from my mother with one exception. I happened to have liked the emphasis she placed on manners, especially when I would gaze at and observe the lack of such with many of my peers, all of whom came from very good families that apparently did not rate common courtesy high on the list for their offspring. In fact, it was so ingrained in us that as late as today my younger sister goes into orbit if she doesn’t receive a snail-mail thank-you note within the permissible (by my mother) time from receiving the gift to thanking in writing for it (10 days was permissible, 7 days was better, and within 3-4 days was best of all). And claiming one was too busy and had already thanked the person verbally at a party were nothing more than feeble excuses to get out of what MUST be done if one was, indeed “well brought up”. I sometimes wonder what my mother would think of the way I casually now respond by e-mail to a gift-she is probably rolling her eyes wondering what has happened to the simple elegance of Manners as she understood them. Sorry, Mum - It’s true that I did teach all three of my children how to write thank-you notes, and when to write them, but I did feel that if you had already thanked someone verbally at the time of receiving the gift, this was sufficient, especially if the “thank you SO MUCH!” was truly warm and sincere.

So having lost out in the “looks” department, as well as in the “intelligence and wit” competition, I just concentrated on what most appealed to me – the love I felt for my children and my wanting to be with them, guide them, comfort, hug, and listen to them, and that this would be enough for me – as well as working for them in an effort to provide them with the necessities of life, as well as some extras which might make some wishes come true. This all kept me occupied for years – in fact, I am still functioning in that mode – I don’t believe it ever ends regardless of how old or wealthy your children become when grown. For me, my children are the main reason I love my life, and in fact, the reason for my existence as they are my only hope for partial immortality.

Approaching 80 years of age, my new obsession is to really find out who I am. Oh, I know, we are all asking ourselves this question throughout our lives, but I have to tell you that if you make it to 80, it becomes increasingly intense. After all, everything else has fallen apart and especially whatever looks you had, so why not concentrate on what is really lasting about yourself, and in fact try to improve on it. I have heard such sad stories of truly beautiful looking people who become recluses in their old age because they are so busy lamenting the loss of what they’ve been most admired for. Marlene Dietrich spent the last 20 years of her life holed up in a Paris apartment hardly ever venturing out to see the light of day much less smell the roses, she was so obsessed with her loss of looks. She no longer had the legs she had been famous for, or the throaty singing voice, and the face was long gone – what to do! She might have handled it differently as has Jeanne Moreau, the French actress who upon getting old decided to concentrate on her smile which came from within, and because of this appeared more beautiful than ever because she was thoroughly alive, out everywhere, involved in all kinds of things concerning other people – in other words she didn’t go into hiding and mourning over something none of us can prevent. Smile, laugh, interact, and mean it – and the world will be at your feet. Mope around and you’ll do this alone with perhaps a few hangers-on who pity and try to comfort you as much as they can. What a waste of one’s final years or days!!!!

When I wake up each morning these days, my first thought after thanking God for allowing me to wake up, and free of pain at that, is to ask myself what of importance I am going to find to make this day memorable, and the next and the next. Generally the things I think about have nothing to do with making a big splash anywhere or even being noticed by others at all. Rather I am thinking of what I am going to do to make me notice myself and nod my head in approval with some kind of silent commendation to myself such as “way to go, Audrey!”. It may be something minute that no one notices, but it generally involves some kind of interaction between myself and someone having a tough time over something because my instinct is to try and help that person.

You see, I have received so much help in the past, mostly by one man, a doctor with whom I became best friends, that I feel this is a way of repaying him just a little for what he gave to me – freely and apparently without regret. It was a gift so tremendous that I can never ever repay him for it – except just a little by doing what I can to lend an ear, or shoulder, to someone in need. This has now become who I am. More than going to church, knowing the scriptures backward and forward (I don’t), or a number of other things I see other people do which simply do not define me to myself or to my God. .

Again, my mother used to wistfully say when she was in her 70s that a person became invisible at that age, and then she would sigh because she understood there was something very big that had been missing in her life, but she simply could not put it into words, it was too painful. Nevertheless, she knew it was there and I believe she knew what it was. I never want to be in such a position because I believe it would make me quite distraught, and as a matter of fact, my mother often was, though she put it down to a variety of reasons which had little to do with the real cause. I believe it made it easier for her to live with herself, another something we all have to do in the end. We come into this world alone – we exit the same way except for many of us, we really don’t. Because unlike the newborn infant, when we exit, if we have paid attention to the signs along the way, we exit with God by our side understanding that this is also to whom and what we return. Can there be any more comforting thought and feeling than this? Nothing to my knowledge.

God was with me when I came into the world, only I didn’t know it, and God will hopefully be with me when I exit. The difference? I will know it, and it will bring me great peace and joy.

Love, Audrey