Once again, my mum Francine has slapped me sideways with her lessons in how to stay vital at 93.
In the spirit of brevity, I’ll bundle them up into two.
How To Stay Vital at 93
Lesson # 1 – Remain Social
Recently Mum has been finding life in her apartment building to be rather difficult.
“So many new people have moved in. They keep to themselves and obviously don’t understand the importance of community.”
Mum is huge on community. She believes it gives a building its “soul.” As a result, she chats with everyone she encounters. At the front door, in the elevator, along the hallways, down in the parking garage … And as an added bonus, she delights in introducing them to me. Every. Single. Time. (I do apologize to those of you who’ve been treated to the inevitable “Have you met my daughter Kelly?” 47 times before … )
Anywho, apparently the newbies haven’t been as receptive to her greetings. So, she decided to do something about it.
She chose a date, recruited the support of the landlord and a few of her fellow tenants and organized a potluck supper.
This sign, deemed rather dull by my creative mother, was drawn up by the manager and posted in the two elevators.
You know how I always refer to myself as a quirk magnet? Well, dear Mum is the queen of the quirks. Have a gander at the cake she ordered.
I apologize for the funny overhead shot. I took it quickly. Summoned back by my daughter (who was recruited for name tag distribution) to “come back and look at the wording, you won’t believe it, Mom” I shot downstairs to the Party Room just for a quick minute before heading out to a play nearby.
Yes. Somehow Mum’s requested “Fontainebleau Frolics” was interpreted as “Fountaineblead Frolics.” Just TypiKel.
So, how did the evening unfold? As with all potlucks, some folks came empty-handed and others contributed even though they couldn’t stay. Here’s a soupcon of the contributions.
And the participants? 40 out of a potential 100 turned up. All ages. From nine to 97. My daughter, whose “greetings table” was situated near the elevator, was privy to everyone’s conversation as they arrived. She noted that the majority of the “oh, I’m not planning on staying long,” hunkered down for a full two hours.
The leftover two-thirds of the cake was dispatched with a gal who was going to share it with her church. Five days later. We all hope it wasn’t too stale …
And Francine? She’s revitalized.
“Once again, the building has soul.”
Lesson #2 – Always Have A Bolt-Hole. Or At Least The Desire For One
Eager to spend more time with her newly returned home from college granddaughter, Mum invited us to a picnic lunch down at the beach a few days later.
The old gal was in fine fettle. After we finished our lunch, she insisted on treating us to a hot drink at the local sailing club. I assumed we’d drive there.
“Nonsense. I need the exercise.”
The view from our seats was stellar.
Once ensconced with a cup of tea, Mum shared a recent conversation she’d had with a complete stranger.
After happening upon an attractive sounding property for sale on the island where my sister has a summer home, she’d called the number listed in the ad.
A few minutes of pleasantries and Mum got down to business.
“I am feeling the need for a bolt-hole, you see.”
Dead silence from the woman on the other end.
“Sorry. A what?”
“A bolt-hole. It’s British. It means a safe place where someone can retreat and hide. My father was an engineer, we moved every three years; I went to nine different schools. Every three years, I still feel like moving. Even now that I’m 93. I quite like where I’m living (even though I’m high up and have a wonderful view, humans weren’t meant to live stacked above each other) but I would like somewhere to escape every now and then. Would this make a good bolt-hole?”
Turned out the woman was doing a friend a favour and never actually been there.
No matter. My mum has made another friend. They’re getting together for coffee.
Enough about Mum’s advice on how to stay vital at 93. I’m curious about you. Have you a spunky nonagenarian in your life? Have you a bolt-hole? Better yet, were you like me and completely unfamiliar with the term bolt-hole? If you’d care to share, I’d love to hear.
Need a little more Francine in your life? Check out my post about how she overcomes frustrations and another about the secret we no longer keep from her.
33 Responses
I was a virgin to “bolt-hole” until your post. Staying vital is very important no matter the age…I love everything about your post…go Mum! Also the cake writing…you’re so correct, just typikel…hysterical.
I’m a bolt-hole virgin, too! (ooh that sounds a little risque…) Up until a few years ago, when my brother and sister acquired their own cabins, that is. Honestly, she never used that word until then. And between you and me, Beemie? I had to look up the spelling of the word. When she pronounces it, it sounds like “boat-hole.”
Oh, a bolt hole! Your mum is a wonder. How many lives has she enriched I wonder? How many smiles delivered? What an inspiration! (And another smile delivered. Thank you.)
I know, right, Jen? She is a wonder. My daughter and I are sitting here chatting about the fact that even though she’s in constant pain (her shoulders – bone on bone) she never complains. And her diaries. Man alive, she was a busy one in her 50’s and 60’s. I’m pouring through them now and it’s exhausting reading about her day. Worked full on in the shop, then came home and either drove out to their small farm located an hour away to water the plants or she popped over to visit the other grandchildren. On and on and on.
Your mother is quite a treasure. I did know about bolt-holes, but probably because I’m such an avid mystery and spy story fan and such things come in handy when you’re on the lam. I, of course, am now entertaining the idea that I, too, must have one. And I believe I shall call it Fountaineblead. Once I’ve set it up, I’ll send the coordinates to your mum and she can be in charge of the get-to-know-me party.
Oh you made me laugh out loud. Truly. Your bolt-hole Fountaineblead sounds magical. I shall alert Francine to stand on guard for further instructions.
That pot luck looks like it was fun. Good on Francine and the Fountainebleaders!
Looks like you went for a walk by the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club? I used to live at 7th and Alma you know. Jericho Beach was my walking park. I still know a fine gentleman in his 80s that lives on 3rd Ave right by that beach. Perhaps I sense a set-up in John and Francine’s future?!
Bolt-hole: nope. And, being the mother of a 12yo boy, I feared the worse of course. Thanks for the education!
Yes! You are spot on. We went for tea at the Jericho sailing club which is right next to RVYC. The view from the deck is amazing. We were so lucky to get a table as it’s always crowded. I know exactly where you used to live, Katy. I used to run by there all the time. My girlfriend actually met her husband to be when we got her MG stuck on the slippery snowy Alma hill (heading up to 16th). His name is John. He’s not in his 80’s though …. Ooh, I know Mom would love to chat with your John. She’d find his youthfulness refreshing.
What an amazing woman your Mom is, Kelly. I know I could learn something from her.
Thanks. The best part, Corinne? She truly doesn’t think she’s anything special.
Do you ever get tired of hearing that your mom is amazing?
Sometimes. Nah, just kidding. I do need to hear it every once in awhile, or I find myself taking her for granted.
Oh Kelly, your Mum is one in a million. I love her zest for life and the way you write about her makes everyone want to be around her ! So glad that her pot luck was a success.
I simply have to tell you what she said after she read the post. Happily her computer is back up and running and she can read them. Anywho, she reads it and then phones me and says “I should like to meet that Frankie.” So funny. Apparently, she doesn’t see herself as I see her …
Well, I had never heard of such, but I sure do like it. And, if I make it to 93, I would want your Mom’s spirit for community because I’m big on community at 63. :0)) Love hearing about your precious Mom.
Thanks, Lea, so very much. That’s wonderful that you’re big on community at 63. It’s so important, isn’t it? She’s up visiting my brother this week and when she gets back I’ll pass on your kind words to her. She’ll be tickled pink.
Those retire-in-place communities have huge advantages for people, most especially the social aspects. I see it with my grandparents, who are in their 90s and still live at home. Besides a once-a-week grocery trip and my grandma’s mah jongg group, they don’t see many people. “All our friends have died” is a good excuse, but they are young at heart too. I love how your mom has so much advice to give. She’s still making friends and teaching us how to live!
Mom is still living on her own as well, Naomi. She moved into a retire-in-place community when my dad was ill. Ok for then, but when he passed on she moved into her own suite in a regular apartment building. She’s prepared to moved back when she has to, but for now she’s doing ok on her own. Lovely that your grandparents are still able to live at home. Hard when all the friends are no longer living though. That’s very tough.
Hi Kelly, I know exactly what you’re dealing with. The other night mom came into our bedroom to ask me what the address was. I asked her she was on the phone with and she wouldn’t answer me. She gave me the mom look. I told her the address and then I asked again and I got the wait a minute sign. She turns and walks out of the room and I hear her telling whoever our ages! I followed her into the kitchen and again she ignored me. So, I got my mom look and said, “you have two minutes to hand me that phone.” She huffed her breath and said, “my daughter wants to talk to you.” and just walked away. I picked up the phone and it was a man who said he was from the Nielson survey co or something. I just told him not to call back not that he’d need to he knew everything about us except our blood types. She was just chatting away with him. I could have throttled her and I know it’s only going to get worse with the move!
Oh, Rena, how very hard. Thank goodness, she toddled in to ask you the address. Man alive, he would have known everything about you and the entire family history, if not. I’m sorry to admit it, but you got me grinning here. We really can’t prepare for all situations, can we? My dad, before he got ill, answered the phone one time and thought it was me. He launched into the entire “tidy bowl” commercial script. Poor person on the other end was trying to interrupt and he kept going on and on about “a 1000 flushes, etc.” Couldn’t believe it wasn’t me so she eventually hung up on him.
Off to your site to check out when you’re moving.
I want to be Francine when I grow up!!! And I also need a bolt hole pronto. There are a lot of Massholes around here but not bolt holes!!! Love all your Francine stories!
Thanks, Sis. I’ll tell Mum. She’s shot off to my brother’s home up the coast for a couple of days. I just know she’ll come back even more insistent on acquiring a bolt-hole of her very own…
Nope! I’ve never heard the term “bolt-hole” either. I guess my trailer is my ‘bolt-hole’, it is the one constant in my every changing life. You know, your mum is exactly right! Life is about community and ‘putting it out there’. I too ‘talk to strangers’ and have since I was very young…much to my mom’s dismay…LOL! My daughter-in-law once described me as “vivacious”! I looked that up in the dictionary……”attractively lively and animated”…..I’ll take that and I’ll bet your mum would too! Give here a squeeze for me and tell her I said hello!
Mum’s up the coast, staying with my brother and his family at the moment. However, I’m seeing her tomorrow and will pass on your kind words, Debbie. I’m grinning here over the “vivacious” comment. That’s a great word. I believe you’re right in that your bolt-hole is your trailer. Off to catch up on your doings. Hope the repair has held!
What an interesting way to turn things around in her building. She had such a great turn out also. Good for her for “being the change she wanted to see in the world.” Love your stories as always, Kelly!
Thank you for reading, Elda. Mum is really ever so much happier when she reaches out and connects.
Your mom is very wise! I’ve never heard of a bolt-hole, but it definitely makes sense. What a joy your mom must be to have in your life :)!
She truly is quite something, Lana. My nephew came for dinner last night and we were in stitches telling “Francine” stories. I’m so glad that all of her grandchildren have been able to share many experiences with her as well.
I’ve never heard the term bolt-hole. Sounds like it should be in Urban Dictionary. 🙂
Goodness Kelly, your Mum is one in a million. I cherish her vitality and the way you expound on her makes everybody need to associate with her !
Thank you so much! Thanks also for popping in and leaving such a lovely comment. Mum will be tickled pink.
Mom is always mom!
Very true.