When I'm an Old Woman. . .

Last week I helped with a funeral dinner and all the ladies there wore red hats and flamboyant purple dresses. One of the other helpers was puzzled by the purpose of the group. The Red Hat Society is a social group and it was inspired by a poem that was a favorite of my sister. I love this poem. I was written by Jenny Joseph.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

I'm haunted by this poem occasionally because the years are just rushing by. Another autumn will soon pass without my going to the high country to see the aspens. Another year without learning to fly fish. Another year without learning to waltz. And what about my good intentions to get back to Hoxie from time to time just to visit? Without feeling I should be promoting a book. 

I do a pretty good job with family events, but I neglect doing things just for fun. 

Writing is a demanding occupation. Sometimes I'm really daunted by the demands of marketing. I will always love to write, but the industry has changed so much over the years. When I first started my agent didn't want me "schlepping around." Going to events, giving talks, etc. Now it's expected by one's publisher. If an author is shy and hates appearing in public, social media is a terrific alternative. 

Last week I started sorting old files and I amazed at the time I spent answering letters. It reminded me that every job has it's demands. I have been very very fortunate. In fact, looking back I wouldn't change much.

 But the red hats and purple dresses keep slipping away. 

Maybe the Bronte sisters toiling away in a little garret had it better.