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Why do we have to label everyone? Why are certain personality traits considered nobler than others, even when on the surface they appear to be neutral statements of fact, like having light or dark eyes, hair or skin? I felt a pang of sympathy for the author of this article:

https://www.cbc.ca/parents/learning/view/dear-everyone-please-stop-calling-my-kid-shy

Shyness in kids, or adults for that matter, is often innate. It may also be cultivated or reinforced by well-meaning parents, teachers and others who give them advice or instructions like "Don't talk to strangers," "It's not polite to make personal remarks" or "If you can't say anything nice about someone, don't say anything at all." Then there's the fear of negative repercussions if they dare to contradict or disobey someone in authority, or who is perceived to be in authority. But is shyness, in and of itself, necessarily something that must be conquered or overcome?

We also love to rush to judgement of others. And sometimes of ourselves too, in the form of guilt and regret. Here's another example, again coming from a parent:

https://www.cbc.ca/parents/learning/view/expectation-vs-reality

"Aspy" types are somehow considered cool these days. And if they get called out for floundering in social situations or failing to read certain social cues, they go on about how it's fine for the rest of us "neurotypicals" who, they believe, come by their social savvy through some sort of gene or instinct. Well, I'm here to say that everyone needs to learn stuff in life - and it's not limited to academic subjects either!

I can't help but feel that it would be a nicer, kinder and more comfortable world if we could all just be ourselves. And if we didn't constantly get on our high moral horses about others who do just that. Perhaps I'm showing my age here. Some say we tend to get more compassionate as we age. Personally I do feel freer to be my authentic self now that I'm out of the employment rat-race. And I don't care as much about what people think of me.

Maybe it's all a matter of changing the story as we experience it. I'll leave you today with this article on aging and narrative identity:

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/how-aging-shapes-narrative-identity?utm_source=pocket-newtab

Tomorrow is back to school for most of the students in the area. There's also the beginning of a nip in the air, particularly in the evenings as the autumn equinox draws near. But fall is also my favourite season, for a number of reasons. I've always looked on it as a time of new beginnings.

For me, it marks the beginning of my life as a senior citizen, qualifying for free transit on Wednesdays and Sundays, monthly OAS and CPP payments, reduced admission fees for museums, art galleries and tickets to certain events. I'm a great believer in aging in place, remaining at home and relatively independent for as long as possible - though I'm certainly not averse to hiring certain support services to perform task I'd rather not have to bother with, like snow clearing and lawn-mowing!

Gerontologists offer plenty of advice on healthy aging, but they all seem to mention two things: being physically active and being socially active. Oddly enough, mental and intellectual stimulation seems to get shorter shrift, with the possible exceptions of learning a new language or musical instrument.

Some people manage to accomplish the physical and social components in one fell swoop - they join a fitness club or take fitness classes and work out as a group. But that's not really my thing. I do get out for a walk almost every day, whether to the park, the grocery store, the bus stop or in inclement weather just around the corner to check for mail. I also try to do a short yoga routine most days. But the idea of group exercising is really not very appealing, even though the Arthritis Society woman (whom I sometimes speak with at my rheumatologist's office) thinks it would be a good idea. I think the last time I was involved with anything like that was Lamaze classes in the early 1980s!

What about social activities? I'm certainly not a life-of-the-party type, although I do enjoy outings with friends or visiting with our kids and grandkids. As far as more structured activities go, there are my weekly Toastmasters meetings (usually followed by a series of little errands I do on my own) and my memberships in Quarter Century Club, the Retired Members Club of my union, CARP, Ex Libris, Federal Retirees, etc. - which come to think of it is quite an extensive list - but I only participate in their activities if I want to or if my schedule permits, and many of them are only annual or semiannual anyway. I also sometimes enrol in Carleton's Learning in Retirement courses or one-time lectures, and there are several coming up that look tempting.

So I guess you could say I choose social activities according to my own interests and preferences. I've never seen the point of socializing for its own sake. I'm also not very good at or not very interested in casual acquaintanceships or striking up conversations with strangers the way some people are. I really need and value my alone-time and if I don't get enough of it, I want to scream "I can't hear myself think!!!" The way I sort out a thorny problem is to really sit by myself and focus.

It's almost an article of faith that the safest neighbourhoods are the ones where you know your neighbours. But while I'm not averse to exchanging the occasional friendly word or helping out if someone is in a bind, I'm just not up to the physical, mental or emotional effort I would need to expend to maintain regular ongoing ties with other people living in the neighbourhood, people with whom I may have little in common other than geographical proximity.

And of course there are all those basic personal maintenance activities that seem to take over more and more of your life as you move up the age-ladder. I'm overdue for blood tests and should be scheduling a mammogram, and then there's that eye appointment at the Riverside coming up in October... but well, it beats the alternative!

It's interesting how the texture of time changes as you get older. I tend to remember the 1970s, the 60s - even the last couple of years of the 1950s - in minute detail. As for the 80s and 90s... well, I know they were the years of nesting and child raising and career-building, so I know at least the KIND of activities I was involved in. The years since the turn of the century and the millennium? They've passed by in a blur. I'm startled when I read about something that happened in 1994 and realize that's twenty years ago. For example, I recently reread Gloria Steinem's essay "Doing Sixty" and realized that this year, she's doing eighty!

Of course, a young child's horizons tend to be quite limited, so reflecting on the most distant past I can remember is a bit like looking through a magnifying glass. I see a more limited AREA, but the grain and the details are writ large. And it's not just the sense of sight that's involved, but the senses of sound, taste, smell and touch (which according to today's Quirks and Quarks is probably several senses in itself) - in short, the TEXTURE of life.

I've no idea how much time is left to me - I don't really WANT to know. But as I've no particular reason to think the end is nigh, I'm optimistic that there should be two or three decades to go, hopefully with quality along with the quantity!