The single funniest professional play I’ve ever seen is SPAMALOT, the Monte Python spoof of—just about everything! Gays, straights, women, men, chivalry, politics, ethnicity–you name it, SPAM has fun with it.
The opening scene takes place in medieval England (mistaken by the chorus as “Finland”) during the Bubonic Plague. “Dead wagons” roam the streets picking up bodies, but a few “bodies” proclaim “Not dead yet!” They soon are, of course, thanks to a whack on the head by the “picker-uppers.” I’ve been thinking of that play lately as I’ve embarked on a new phase of life: “Woman of Age.” A lot of it. Age, I mean.
We all go through several shock periods in our lives, don’t we?
For me, the first started with a radio announcement: “Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt this program to inform you the Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor.” War! I’d seen the pictures in LIFE magazine; I’d heard the talk. I was scared.
The second hit me two seconds before I started down the aisle to marry Wayne. I was no longer a little girl! I was going to face all kinds of adult things! I wasn’t ready! And then I took the first step down the aisle and into the marriage I’ve never once regretted, even in the not-so-good times.
Other shocks followed: deaths, parenthood, economic downs-then ups, fascinating travels, family joys—and then the really bad one. Wayne died.
Seven years ago I had to start over. Wayne and I had an unspoken division of duties. He was responsible for all things financial. I had the last word on matters of home life. All of a sudden I was responsible for all of it. I reeled, close to breakdown. But my children were totally supportive while I got back on my mental feet, for which I can never thank them enough. Little by little, I discovered I was “Not dead yet!” I still had a life to lead, just a different one. I could laugh, be interested in something besides my miseries and find some pleasure with family and friends.
This spring I sold my beloved Neponset home and rented an apartment in a community for the “older, but not dead yet!” folks. And I like it, the apartment, the staff, the homey atmosphere, the other NDYs. As a former novelist, I see “stories” all around me.
I understand that as long as I live I will face shock periods; they’re a natural part of life. I may collapse again; I may sulk in a corner as I find more things I can’t control. But all situations change. What seems unbearable now can be preparation for the greatest adventure of all—the step into the next life. So I may be brave.
I’m writing this to remind the I-don’t-buy-green-bananas types that “Hey! We’re not dead yet!” There are plenty of things we can still do to lighten someone’s life—a box of cookies, a pat on the back, a genuine compliment, a smile, a giggle over something silly, compassion for the rough spot they’re going through, a listening ear —we’ve been there. And WE ARE NOT DEAD YET!
Have a good summer, keep the faith and—hang on!
Your friend,
Carol
