aging well – Roadkill Crossing

It’s Applesauce Season

My wife poured more cooked apples into the strainer. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

As summer ends every year, it’s applesauce season at our house.

My energetic and talented wife orders the apples from a local orchard weeks in advance. She anxiously awaits the phone call advising that they are ready.

When that call comes, the well-organized plan unfolds to perfection as it has for years. A bushel of Ginger Gold apples is retrieved, and the former kindergarten teacher gets to work.

Everything is ready for the applesauce assault. For one warm morning near summer’s end, our galley kitchen resembles an assembly line.

Of course, I’m a partner in the endeavor, but Neva is in charge. She checks the apples’ ripeness once she returns home, and usually within a day or two, they are ready to be worked up.

The sliced Ginger Golds. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

The entire process is an extravaganza. The plastic containers are washed and ready to accept their sweet-tart contents. The mixing bowls stand clean and shiny, ready to share in their next-to-last role in the annual making of the tangy applesauce.

First, though, the apples are washed, sliced, and placed in bowls until they are mounded high. Kettles sit on stovetop burners, their contents steaming away at a low boil.

The apple slices are added in and cooked until their flesh is soft but not mushy. That’s where I enter the picture.

The apples are transferred to a smaller container and carefully carried to the screened-in back porch. Because we start the process early in the morning, the porch is cooler than it is later in the day. Plus, cranking steaming hot cooked apples can be a messy project, especially with a male septuagenarian as the manual laborer.

Cooking the apples. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

The hand-cranked Victorio strainer is already affixed to the old painted drop-leaf table. The peeler’s top container is filled with the cooked apple slices, and I crank away. It’s important to turn the crank at just the right speed to avoid any splatter or mishap.

The apples are pushed into an opening at the top of the cylinder where blades separate the skin from the apple’s flesh as the handle is cranked. The skins follow a conical tunnel into another bowl while the finally cut apple flesh slides and oozes through a sieve into a different container.

That’s the good stuff, the critical ingredient to make applesauce. Once the container is full, the contents are emptied into one of the larger bowls, and granulated sugar is sprinkled in to cut the tartness.

An old-fashioned wooden spoon stirs the sugar into the applesauce, and occasional taste tests ensure it’s just right. The entire process is repeated until the last slice of apple disappears.

The end of the line. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Including the preparation and cleanup, the entire production takes up most of the morning. But it’s oh so worth it.

The quarts and pints hold a sweet-tart treat that, if rationed diligently, will last through the winter. Applesauce complements any meal.

When the grandkids ask for more, Nana knows all the sweaty effort was worth it.

Helping Others, Even on Her Birthday

The quilt we gave our grandson for his high school graduation. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Today is my wife’s birthday. How is she celebrating? By doing what she does every day: helping others.

Whether it’s her birthday or not, she spends the better part of nearly every Tuesday volunteering at a local thrift store. She runs the cash register, sorts clothing and knick-knacks, and answers customers’ queries about the store, the city, and the Shenandoah Valley, where we live.

As we both approach 80, we strive to be proactive with our bodies, minds, and spirits. Assisting others helps us in all three areas. At the store, Neva engages with new folks, which she greatly enjoys. For the local elementary school, she helps pack nonperishable food for families in need.

She uses her skills to make comforters for people she will never meet. A church organization sends them around the world to those who have little to nothing.

Neva also demonstrates her altruistic talents for the family. Last night, she delivered a quilt that she had pieced and had quilted for our grandson’s high school graduation. She helped him pick the fabric and arrange the pattern. Neva even stitched in music notes on the quilt’s backside for our musically talented grandson.

After that presentation, we sat around a campfire with our daughter’s family covered in quilts and blankets for no other reason than to enjoy one another’s company on an unusually chilly evening. Mere presence is another gift of giving.

Neva connects with a friend who has several children. With the ding of a text, Neva can be off providing rides from school to doctor’s offices and back. Now and then, she prepares a meal for them. Neva seems to run on opportunity, and when opportunity beckons, she responds more often than not.

Neva sends birthday, get-well, sympathy cards, and ‘thinking of you’ notes to those who need to be remembered. She often receives a return note or text of appreciation.

Yesterday, our freezer gave out. We hustled the thawing food over to our neighbor across the street, who graciously allowed us to temporarily store it in her freezer until our new one arrives.

In recognition of Neva’s birthday, that same neighbor brought a salad basket for Neva. She had picked the lettuce from her garden and included all the fixings for a delicious salad.

Neva’s salad birthday gift.

So, tonight, she and I will quietly celebrate her birthday with that salad and a few other food items that were too thawed to refreeze. It will be a satisfying end to another day of opportunities to serve.

No doubt, Neva is a trooper. She is determined not to let age deter her from doing what needs to be done to improve the lives of others, even on her birthday.

Now I Understand Why Seniors Guard Their Daily Schedules so Closely

Day hiking the Appalachian Trail in Shenandoah National Park. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

I always needed a clarification. I was the marketing coordinator for a continuous care facility 10 miles from home.

Part of my responsibilities included writing a quarterly newsletter that featured people from every aspect of the campus. I interviewed residents in the nursing home, assisted living, independent living, and even employees.

Most residents welcomed me into their living space, gladly answered my questions, and allowed me to photograph them, often with a piece of quilting or carving they had done. It was the reaction of other residents that threw me off. Some declined when I asked them to be interviewed for the newsletter, while others said they were too busy.

I thought to myself, “They’re in a retirement community. How can they be too busy to be interviewed for half an hour?” So, I asked them for an alternative date. Again, they would offer an excuse that I couldn’t come that day because they had a doctor’s appointment, a friend was coming for a visit, a hair appointment, or some other reason at a specific time.

I stayed persistent and said I could come well before or after their appointment. Most declined, saying to pick another day that suited them. It usually was a day they didn’t have anything planned.

Sunrise at the Ohio retirement community where I worked. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

That should have been my first hint. Still, I didn’t quite understand why they couldn’t see me in the morning when they had a late afternoon appointment.

I do now. I held that position 20 years ago. At 76, I am the age of some of the folks I interviewed. I find myself repeating their behavior.

My wife and I retired, but not to a retirement community. We live in a ranch home on a third of an acre. We downsized considerably when moving from our long-time Ohio home to Virginia’s lovely Shenandoah Valley to be close to three of our four grandchildren.

I’m done for the day if I mow the yard, which usually takes about an hour and a half, including trimming. Out of sheer fatigue, I readily turn down opportunities to fill in the rest of the day. The only exception is if one of the grandkids has a concert or baseball or volleyball game.

After an exerting project, I am more than content to sit on my lounge chair on our screened-in back porch and read or relax. Even though I exercise regularly, I need to recharge the next day.

I am even careful about scheduling anything other than a doctor’s appointment on a single day. I have to drive across town to get to the medical office. I always wonder what traffic will be like. Our small city hosts two thriving universities, several non-profits, and many businesses and residences, including many townhouses and condos serving as college student housing. Plus, I have to cross an interstate highway that runs right through the middle of the city, with vehicles entering and exiting. As much as I like to drive, it can be stressful.

So, I confess that I didn’t fully realize the effects of aging. In my 50s, I was still raring to go. In 2024, not so much. I still walk, hike, and do photography, and I am an active bird watcher. Those I can combine in one outing. But not if I have another kind of commitment that day. I spread out the activities in which I partake.

So, to all those former residents in the retirement community, I apologize for shaking my head at your excuses. I now guard my daily schedules like you did all those years ago. Thanks for the life lesson, even though I learned it too late.