This is not the first time that Dorothy has been my role model. Over the many years I've known her, she's modeled how to be a citizen of the world and a fierce advocate for the underprivileged; she has demonstrated the power of a matriarch in strengthening and re-tying the inevitable loose ends of an extended family. This week she added to my hero's checklist proof that there can be immeasurable grace in the very act of aging. Dorothy is ninety-four with the great gift of good health and undiminished mental capacity. I do not discredit her lucky genes but I can marvel, nonetheless, at the way in which she puts them to good use, even and especially now.
We spent five days together, Dorothy, me and our mutual good friend Susan at a cabin that Dorothy, her husband and children built decades ago in the heart of Minnesota's lake country. Much of our time together she spent in quiet contemplation of her past, her present and her future. Surrounded by the physical evidence of past good times, she told family stories - building the fireplace, buying the shovel, walking the path, swimming to the sand bar. She recounted the adventures of a lifetime of service - joining the Peace Corps, tutoring incarcerated women, Asian refugees and juvenile boys, always taking in and feeding stray adults and children, anyone in need. She schemed about how to better help the people in her own facility who need encouragement and companionship and, as always, about how to enrich the life of the family that she so loves. No complaints about her aches and pains, but wonder at the physical manifestations of aging, quiet musings on the time she has left, and preparations for the inevitable. "This was good for me," she said on the drive home. "It gave me the time and space to make some important decisions."
It was good for me, too. Dorothy gave me back, if only for a few days, the mothering I did not even know I missed. Comfort without judgment. She listened to my grappling with the self doubt and fear that accompany the early stages of aging - the chronicling of a body's diminished capacity, the setting of priorities for art and love and giving back, the inevitable power shifts of families growing up and out. Not that I was whining. Much. Dorothy asked questions and gave me space to think things out and put a marker on the map of where I want to be. I am grateful for her wisdom and her friendship. I admire her spirit, curiosity, open mindedness and commitment. She has reminded me that this is an exciting time of life; she has encouraged me to embrace the dizzying, disorienting freedom that has suddenly materialized in my life like a sandstorm in the wind. Freedom to do good well. If I have the great fortune to have half of Dorothy's wisdom, health and smarts, this may turn out to be the most rewarding chapter of a busy lifetime - when I come more firmly and confidently into my own personhood even as my outward horizons inevitably shrink.
Years ago, Dorothy and I threw a joint party for our birthdays to celebrate our friendship and raise money for a new homeless shelter for families that, together, we had a small part in getting started. She was turning eighty and I was rounding the corner to fifty. I look forward to celebrating 100/70 in a few more years with my dear friend. I wonder where we'll be.