Reach Out to an Elder Orphan This Holiday Season

Have you heard the term “elder orphans”? I am one. No husband, no children, no family nearby, living alone. Some elder orphans literally have no family, while others live far away or are estranged. Either way, they’re alone.

We are many. Don’t go feeling sorry for me. I do that well enough on my own. I do have wonderful people back in California and terrific friends right here on the Oregon coast. Not everyone is so lucky.

While the media makes it look like everybody celebrates the holidays with happy families or groups of friends, there are countless people who dread this time of year because they are alone. They may not have any invitations for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner or anyone to invite to their own homes. They may not be able to travel. They may be unwell. And guess what, they might not get any Christmas presents. It’s not a matter of finances; it’s a matter of not having people they can claim as their own.

Being alone is not always horrible. My neighbor said she had a delightful Thanksgiving. She read, puttered in the garden, smoked some pot, and ate a delicious all-natural vegetarian meal. She was content with the company of her cats.

I was supposed to go to California to be with family, but due to some health crises down there, I wound up staying home. When a friend from church issued an invitation for any strays to come to her house, I jumped on it, and we had a good time. Thank you, #Phyllis O’Boyle. As it turned out, three different sets of friends invited me to Thanksgiving dinner, and I already have plans for Christmas. I am grateful. I do not do well alone on the holidays. I start feeling abandoned and spend a lot of time crying.

If I chose to be alone, that would be a different story. One of my favorite Thanksgiving memories is the time I stayed home sick with a cold. I ate burritos and watched movies by myself while my husband and stepson spent the day with the in-laws. It’s a question of attitude. I could see myself as sad and lonely, or I could see myself as free to do whatever I want.

I have talked to a surprising number of people who have no one to be with on the holidays. Some of them are outgoing people I would never expect to be alone. But they are.

We don’t always speak up. It’s as if we’re embarrassed to have ended up without people. As in the game of musical chairs, we wound up without a chair when the music stopped.

When you have a family, you automatically know you’ll be spending the holidays with them if at all possible. It may not be as happy as the TV commercials imply, but you know who will be there. You know who will give you presents and who you will give them to. You know who likes turkey breasts and who likes the rear end. You carry out the same traditions year after year. I treasure the memories of my childhood Christmases, which were always at my parents’ house, with both sets of grandparents attending, along with aunts, uncles and cousins. Most of those people are gone now.

If someone in your life does not seem to have family nearby, ask if they have plans. Maybe bring them an inexpensive gift. Two years in a row, I received gifts from a secret Santa, which I think was the Newport senior center. I was so touched because I had nothing else under my tree. Think about that. If you have people, reach out to those who might not. If you are the one who is alone, start talking to people. Make a plan.

Did you know that 27 percent of American homes are occupied by only one person—and a large percentage of those people are seniors? People assume everyone has someone, and if they don’t, they put the burden on the lonely one to reach out. Don’t do that. You be the one. Say hello. Check on them. Be a friend.

Do you find yourself alone on the holidays? How do you handle it?

Do you know someone who might be alone? How might you help them?

I look forward to your comments.

P.S. If you are alone, consider joining the Elder Orphans group on Facebook. It really helps.

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

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Sometimes You Have to Look Harder for the Joy, But It’s There

“It is December and we must be brave,” poet Natalie Diaz wrote in “Manhattan is a Lenape Word” in her book Postcolonial Love Poem. So, so true. (Lenape is the language of the Delaware Native American tribe)

In Kansas and nearby states, survivors gaze at the rubble where their homes used to be, where their neighbors died in tornadoes that swept through on Friday and wiped out homes, businesses, dreams, and lives. How do you bear such a tragedy? How do you attend so many funerals and not want to die yourself?

I guess you ask the people Out West whose lives were ravaged by wildfires, or the folks in the South clobbered by hurricanes. You keep going the best you can.

A mass shooting happened in Baytown, Texas yesterday. These shootings have become so routine that NPR didn’t even mention it on this morning’s news update, although it was on my Yahoo home page. One dead, 13 wounded at a vigil for a friend who had been killed two weeks earlier.

COVID is still raging. The omicron variant is said to be more contagious than the previous versions of the virus. In one week, we went from no cases in the U.S. to cases all over the country. Those of us who have had two vaccine shots and a booster still don’t feel safe, and it seems as if this will never end. A friend from my old church died of COVID last week. People are still disputing the need for masks while almost 50,000 new cases have been diagnosed in the U.S. in the last 30 days.

The economy is berserk. Some gas stations in the Bay Area are charging more than $5 a gallon. Prices for food and everything else are up, and yet you can’t get everything you need because the supply chain is broken and businesses can’t find people to fill jobs. There are no new cars in the Honda dealer’s parking lot because they can’t get the computer chips to make the cars. Crazy.

This weekend, high winds and rain hit the Oregon coast. I woke to find my patio table overturned, my garden statues knocked over, and a fallen tree across my fence. There are branches everywhere. My whole yard is so soggy I’m afraid my house is going to sink. But I suffered no real damage. I spent a few hours without Internet or TV, but that’s nothing. I’m back at my desk, writing, sipping English Breakfast Tea, and looking forward to Christmas cards coming in the mail.

I had tea and scones with a new friend last week. The next day, Annie and I had a nice visit with the neighbors, swapping stories by the fireplace. I sang at church on Saturday. My refrigerator is full of good food. I’m healthy. My life is good. We don’t get tornadoes here, but a disaster could change everything in a blink. All we can do is trust in God and each other to carry us when things get too hard.

The holidays can be torture for people who are already suffering from the loss of loved ones, natural and unnatural disasters, or physical or emotional problems. Please consider reaching out to friends who might be having a hard time. Even more than gifts and cards, they could use your company.

I hate that I won’t have any family around me at Christmas. At some point, I will cry hard over that. But then I will move on. There’s always something to look forward to, even if it’s just a turkey sandwich or a TV show or a walk with the dog. Last night while doing the dishes, I turned on some music and started dancing. The dog stared, confused. But if your feet still hold you up, why not dance?

It is December, and we must be brave. The month is only half over. There will be more storms, more tornados. There will be more COVID, more shortages, and more frustrations. But there will also be Christmas and New Year’s and another sunrise every day, each one a little different from the one before, and that first wonderful sip of coffee or tea in the morning. If you look for the joy, you can find it.

Happy holidays, I wish you warm scones, fuzzy slippers, and sloppy dog kisses.

I welcome your comments. Tell us how you’re doing this month.

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The best gifts may not be under the Christmas tree

I was going to write a whiny post about not having any Christmas presents. It would start, “The only gifts for me under my Christmas tree are the ones I bought and wrapped for myself.” I would explain that the main gift-givers in my family have all died, my remaining family lives far away, I have no kids, the younger folks in my family don’t seem moved to send presents to good old Aunt Sue, my friends are all traveling this Christmas, etc. Woe is me. While that’s all true, I have realized I’m an idiot.
I have so much, and I am so blessed. Grief over my late husband is hitting me like a sledgehammer this year, but I’m writing in a house filled with so much great stuff I can’t possibly need anymore. I want it, but I don’t need it. I have numerous musical instruments and piles of sheet music, books, food, clothes, computers, keepsakes, nice furniture, a car, a dog, work I love, enough money, and a healthy body.
It’s time I reached out to help other people instead of whining about myself. Know what I mean?
I was already beginning to see the light when I started reading a new book I downloaded yesterday with the help of a Christmas gift certificate. It’s called Not Fade Away: A Memoir of Senses Lost and Found and was written by Rebecca Alexander with Sasha Alper. Alexander is losing both her sight and her hearing, due to something called Usher’s Syndrome, a rare genetic glitch. She was a teenager when she was told she would eventually be both blind and deaf. It’s a great book, and Alexander doesn’t seem to feel the least bit sorry for herself. Imagine what it would be like not even being able to see the Christmas tree.
Look around. Listen. Thank God if you can see and hear.
Meanwhile, I might not have a lot of presents under the tree but I have presents everywhere else. You, my readers, are one of those gifts. Thank you and Merry Christmas to all.