My choice for a pleasant place to age is based on the many trips I had with my family and then my husband Brad to the Washington coast.
By five, I was begging to celebrate my birthday by “going to Aberdeen”—a shock to my parents that I was willing to trade gifts for that, especially since my October birthday was during the rainy, rather than sunny, time of the year. (PS—They did end up giving me gifts, but fewer of them.)
My family stayed at Rod’s, on the coast, where we dug clams for Mom’s great chowder and searched diligently for the lovely green glass floats that washed up, especially during that time of year. I loved the wild autumn storms we sometimes had on those trips, and, at about seven, I was the one who noticed a truly huge float that my father ran to rescue.
But I was really taken with the little town full of colorful attractive older looking homes as we passed through, Aberdeen, and the relaxed feel of the seaside—lots of elderly sailors smoking pipes, whittling, or just daydreaming on benches.
I made remarks as a youngster, and later to my husband that “I could live here,” pointing to one house after another. It turns out that I was right. Though we now live up the hill with a wooded back lot, and a large home, it is truly 1927 enchanting.
From the past: I still cherish and display the glimmering abalone shell given to me by an ancient-appearing sailor when I was five. He simply extended it to me as I walked by. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
This is not my Abalone shell since I couldn’t take as good a photo as this one, which looks exactly like mine.
Also gracing my home, the two pictures of conch shells on a beach painted by my mother for her Aberdeen-loving daughter and framed with driftwood by my father. I have several glass floats but not the huge one I spied in the tide.
I do still have the expectant surge of pleasure when we’re driving back from a trip away from Aberdeen. More than ever, I feel the placid ambiance, the delight of more contact with nature—deer; raccoons; chipmunks; birds of all kinds—owls, woodpeckers, doves, hawks, eagles, and jays; butterflies and bumble bees; rhododendrons and hyacinths; lovely native flowers, berries, and ferns; impressively tall cottonwoods, spruce and alders as well as long-ago planted apple and plum trees, perfuming and adorning the view from our deck and north-facing windows.
Being charmed by nature has happened to me in other homes and trip locations, but for sheer magic, nothing beats the redwoods in California along the way during our honeymoon and then 25 years later to re-celebrate that cherished time. The following poem was written for a redwood, but these words have lately come to mind when I’m looking up in awe at our gigantic cottonwood…taking strength and endurance from its years of survival.
SPIRITUAL SURVIVAL
A redwood spoke to me through my hand:
Strength is only surviving the conditions that come
and not surviving them.
You are the sum of all that you have survived
and not survived too.
Ariele M. Huff is a Washington-loving word weaver whose poem “Spiritual Survival” is an excerpt from her book The Perks of Aging: Blessings, Silver Linings, & Convenient Half-Truths. To read more, visit https://www.amazon.com/dp/1535373113.
SHARING STORIES is a weekly column for and about the 50 plus crowd living in the Puget Sound region. Send your stories and photos to ariele@comcast.net. Tell local or personal stories; discuss concerns around aging and other issues; share solutions, good luck, and reasons to celebrate; poems are fine too. Pieces may be edited or excerpted. We reserve the right to select among pieces. Photos are always a plus and a one-sentence bio is requested (where you live, maybe age or career, retired status, etc.). SHARING STORIES is featured on http://www.northwestprimetime.com, the website for Northwest Prime Time, a monthly publication for baby boomers, seniors, retirees, and those contemplating retirement. For more information, call 206-824-8600 or visit http://www.northwestprimetime.com. To find other SHARING STORIES articles on this website type “sharing stories” in the search function above.
