Reviews and recommendations are unbiased and products are independently selected. Postmedia may earn an affiliate commission from purchases made through links on this page.
Dear Ma,
It has been two years since I last wrote to you, so I thought I would pick up the pen (or rather, sit down at the computer) to tell you about the happenings around here. First, the big event of the past year, the celebration of my 95th birthday. You, too, arrived at this milestone (though sadly you did not make it to 96). Remember the birthday lunch we had for you at that nice restaurant?
My 95th birthday lunch took place at the Monkland Tennis Club where I am now an honorary member. It was a lovely occasion with relatives Bill, Cynthia and Margaret, and some friends attending. Some people were missing — those no longer with us and others living too far away, like my relatives in Hungary.
The lunch was beautifully presented, the menu and wines excellent, though the birthday cake was missing as Zoli the patisserie had moved his business to the West Island. I received flowers, gifts, cards and phone calls, and was grateful for all the attention I received.
But with the good comes the sad, the loss of two of my neighbours here in the building in the past year. We lost Marcel, a local boy and my next-door neighbour who used to complain that I had the TV on too loud, and Ivan, a fellow countryman with whom I had nice conversations in Hungarian. I will miss both of them.
As I write this, it is once again winter in Montreal. The snow is falling silently, presenting a nice picture. I miss my snowball-throwing companion — you.
The name of the game is change, and there are changes here on the political scene. My generation remembers two Trudeau eras — that of father Pierre and the one of son Justin (you remember the former), and I feel nostalgic about Justin leaving his post and wish him well.
There were more changes among friends, some of them changing their address, moving into senior residences. I am very fortunate to be still “aging in place” living in the same apartment that you knew. True, it requires organization and I am grateful for all the help I get to be able to remain at home.
Though most people are again running around, my outings have been mostly health-related and I am well looked after by all the professionals. Still, there are problems with eyesight, hearing, walking. I have even devised my new slogan, which goes: “I can’t hear well, I can’t see well, I can’t walk well, but I CAN TALK WELL.” How do you like it, Ma?
As for travel, I still have my car, now a mature 18 years old but I think its days are numbered. Concerning out-of-town trips, my travelling these days consists of turning the pages of the lovely Senior Discovery Tours brochure. I have been fortunate to do a lot of travelling and have souvenirs — and my memories — to remind me of the places I visited.
Yes, Ma, and I am still writing my column. It will be five years in March — just before COVID-19 — that an editor started the “Life in the …” Senior Living series and asked me to participate by writing Life in the 90s, as I had turned 90 the year before. It has been a lot of fun thinking up topics and I hope to keep at it as long as I can. Wish me good luck, Ma.
All in all, despite some problems, I try to make the most of each day. I remember the words of the great Hungarian poet, Endre Ady. Here they are, in my translation: “Whoever is alive, should be glad. For life comes to everyone as an exceptional, sacred joy.”
I remain, as always, your loving daughter
Alice
P.S. More good news, the birth of new family member Liam Richardson which makes him the youngest and me the oldest in the family.