You and I Are Too Old to Bitch About the Weather

Too Old for This Sh*t: How to Take Your Life From an Ageist Society

Photo by Jody Confer on Unsplash

The side benefits of having the sh*t kicked out of us in winter

A long plume of breath stretched out in front of me as I sat up from the couch. It was hours before my first conference call of the day. I wake up around 3:30-4 am daily, like it or not.

Like it or not. You learn to deal with what’s dealt you.

“Damn. That’s chilly.” I took my heated gloves off to feel my face.

“Damn. That’s an icicle. I’m paying how much for this?”

This, in this case, is an ocean-side condo in Newport, Oregon. Yesterday was the third full day of no power after a nasty ice storm had chased me down the coast from Depoe Bay. This is my birthday week.

At Depoe, I had watched the incoming King Tides get lashed by sideways sleet. The waves weren’t terribly impressive but the temperature sure was.

The high surf was a greasy grey-green, heaving like a nest of mating sea dragons.

I high-tailed it back. By 3 pm the main line for power from just south of this condo north to Lincoln Beach was down. The road to the main line was closed by the Department of Transportation due to downed trees and other dangers. Even the linemen couldn’t reach it.

The condo units slowly, steadily began to cool.

While this isn’t one of my typical adventures where I’m in a blizzard or tenting in the heavy rain somewhere large toothy things lurk in the night, it’s still travel.

And because it’s travel, and it’s winter, and I’m on the coast, and we are now dealing with a changing climate, it can still turn into an adventure. This did.

You and I are WAY Too Old to be defeated by the weather, since we have already weathered so many years.

However, we do need to be prepared. I was, kind of sort of. But nowhere near enough.

I had brought candles, matches and supplies, including battery-operated Seirus gloves and Lenz socks just in case. This WAS a just-in-case, if the Public Utility Department couldn’t get that line back up.

That was two days ago.

Like lots of women, I have Reynaud’s Syndrome. If the temps go below sixty and I don’t have seriously good gloves, I can lose my fingers, or worse, my hands. Same thing with toes and feet. It’s a thing, and it’s unforgiving.

However, those battery-operated socks and gloves also run out of juice, like my computer and my cell phone.

That morning, the condo’s temperature was about thirty degrees.

Inside.

Dressed like a snowbound Michelin Man I wobbled into the kitchen, trailing frost.

I had slept on the couch in every single pair of pants, every shirt, and every coat I had brought. Lumpy, but warm. Not what I’d planned for my birthday week on the coast. I knew it would be cold but I hadn’t planned for it to be that cold inside the condo, without any way to heat the place.

Worse, because the road out of here is steep and was covered with ice, I wasn’t going anywhere until things warmed a bit. I couldn’t drive back home to Eugene because the highways were blocked with downed trees. The hill to my house, which is really steep, was limed with three inches of solid ice.

Better settle in, and hope for the best.

Here’s what we were dealing with. More people out of power than any other state. Good to be famous for something, right?

As a matter of automatic habit, I opened the fridge door.

I got hit with a nice blast of warm air. So of course, I removed the milk and cream and yogurt onto the counter to get nice and cold. If not freeze outright.

You will appreciate the irony.

I was tempted to climb into the fridge to warm up myself but remembered at the last moment that they are devilishly hard to get out of once you shut the door.

Remember, it’s 4 am. How compos mentis are YOU at 4 am?

I had just enough cell juice to take care of my calls, then walked - skated-out to the car to charge my phone. I didn’t need to put anything else on, I was already wearing multiple down coats and every piece of clothing I had brought.

The door was frozen shut. The handle was just as cold as the bathroom doorknob inside.

Day before yesterday, power had been restored to Newport and all the homes and businesses half a mile south of me. From the Walmart north to Lincoln City, we were still sucking icicles. So I found an open cafe south of here, settled in to recharge all my gear (two phones, a Fire tablet, my computer, my car battery -just kidding-my buzzer, KIDDING).

Okay, for all you women out there. You can be stranded, you can be cold, you can be stuck under the damned blankets. Your phone can be dead, your computer kaput, but your BUZZER is busted?????

What on earth is a girl to DO?

Okay, well, if you charge it at the local breakfast cafe you’re likely to have no trouble starting lively conversations. Just saying.

But I digress.

By three pm, the transformers up by my part of the Coast had been repaired, assisted by helicopter-dropped linemen. That’s what it takes up here. Part of me loves the epic nature of that.

The other part of me worries for those guys. The comments on the Twitter feed of our local PUD up here were supportive and kind, with people providing encouragement. Not bitching about how much time it was taking.

Gotta love that.

What I don’t love: when I was able to get out and about, seeing the populations of homeless whose tents had been torn down or blown away or flattened by the storm, now sitting in the ice on street corners begging for food, their shivering dogs wrapped in anything available, including cardboard.

We really are a cruel country. But that’s not a problem I can solve alone.

Today is my 71st birthday. We had a day of calm yesterday, the power worked, mostly. I drove up the coast to find out that only stupid people like me were out looking for stores that were open. None were. I did find a restaurant, made friends with Jeff the waiter and got myself invited to go horseback riding in early summer.

Now I ask you: what is it with us that we can’t create warm conversations with anyone, anywhere, which could lead to all kinds of wonderful things in our lives?

A question I can answer, but not here, and not now. But I will note that if we feel frozen out by society, I have to challenge whether or not we are freezing people out with our fear first? I can make friends everywhere and anywhere and so can anyone else. I didn’t say it was easy. It’s a skill like any other. And it sure comes in handy if you and I are in dire need of assistance, such as in an emergency.

You and I are WAY Too Old to Believe we don’t need each other. Let’s build community before we desperately need one.

I learned some hard lessons this week: first, I like to think I’m prepared. After all I’m this big Adventure Athlete, right?

Photo by Tom Dick on Unsplash

Nope. While I had a lot of supplies, my car and my luggage fell well short of what I should absolutely positively have for emergencies in this part of the world. No excuses. My go-bag for an earthquake sits in my garage. Fat lot of good it does me up here.

Second, make friends with the staff. Third, make friends with the staff. Fourth, make friends with the staff. I can repeat myself until I’m blue in the face. My kindness and use of my limited Spanish earned me a few extra favors which got me a working fireplace when the power went out again last night, and two extra flashlights with batteries.

An envelope with a nice tip goes to the office staff when I leave. Do that. Just do it. I’ll be back here again regularly and you want the staff to love seeing you drive up.

You and I are also WAY Too Old to believe we don’t need help. Yeah, we do. Just as much as we need to give help.

We’re also way Too Old to think that asking for help is an imposition.

It’s a gift to allow others to be of service. When we’re all in extremis, and this week many of us were, what a wonderful time to not only offer help when we can, but receive when we need it.

Help, along with humor, is the connective tissue of human community.

In the little cafe where I stayed some five hours and ordered breakfast and lunch from Kim, while I charged all my various necessities I got into lively conversations with people whose hats indicated that our politics didn’t agree.

We all found ways to feel connected rather than conflicted about each other. We laughed, shared essential information, and waved at each other when someone braved the elements again.

If you will forgive the intentional play on words, in an emergency, we can allow our agency to emerge. Indeed, it’s when things go to pot that we realize our potential.

And need I say this, if you are going to take up an entire table for the entire morning through lunch, and this includes Starbucks, PAY THEM FOR THE TIME. That’s a table not earning money for the waitresses. Again, I want Kim the waitress to grin when she sees me coming in for coffee.

Please respect your wait staff and their need to earn a living wage. That way when the weather goes south they won’t be bitching about us.

Photo by Tim Zänkert on Unsplash

This morning, my 71st birthday, I sprang out of bed at 3 am. I was halfway through my first coffee- yes, I have power Yay- before I realized I had misread my watch. No worries. Another moody hour of listening to the lashing rain, celebrating my anniversary in my year, the Chinese year of the Water Dragon.

We Water Dragons are feisty folk. The weather is awful, but I’m going to thrive. When I eventually get home I’m going to create a proper car emergency kit (I have been righteously humbled) and get far more serious about being prepared.

I moved up here for the weather. After fifty years in Colorado, I am hardly going to complain about it. I chose this. I’m going to need community to get through it, and others may well need my help.

So instead of bitching about the weather, let’s commit to pitching in when it hits. We’re all going to need help at one point. Let’s practice that right now, today.

Let’s play.

Photo by Documerica on Unsplash

Thank you for hanging out with me for a few minutes out of a very busy day. I hope you’re safe where you are and above all, surrounded by community that supports you and vice versa. If this article gave you value, please consider

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