Mary Melfi - In the Backyard: Relearning the Art of Aging, Dying and Making Love

In the Backyard

Relearning the Art of Aging,
Dying and Making Love

A Memoir

MIROLAND IMPRINT 13

Guernica Editions Inc. acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. The Ontario Arts Council is an agency of the Government of Ontario. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada.

In the Backyard

Relearning the Art of Aging,
Dying and Making Love

A Memoir

MARY MELFI

MIROLAND (GUERNICA)

TORONTO BUFFALO LANCASTER (U.K.)

2018

Copyright 2018, Mary Melfi and Guernica Editions Inc.

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise stored in aretrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher is aninfringement of the copyright law.

Connie McParland, series editor

Michael Mirolla, editor

Errol F. Richardson, cover and interior book design

Rafael Chimicatti, typesetting

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First edition.

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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2017964714

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Melfi, Mary, 1951-, author

In the backyard : relearning the art of aging, dying and making love : a memoir / Mary Melfi. -- First edition.

(MiroLand imprint ; 13)

Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-1-77183-236-6 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-77183-237-3 (EPUB).-

ISBN 978-1-77183-238-0 (Kindle)

1. Melfi, Mary, 1951-. 2. Authors, Canadian (English)--20th century--Biography. 3. Aging. 4. Death. 5. Love. 6. Autobiographies. I. Title. II. Series: MiroLand imprint ; 13

High Summer

WHAT IS THE ANSWER?

Year One

M irrors, like monsters, come in all shapes and sizes. They sneak up on you when you least expect it and take a big bite out of your life. Monsters hide in the dark. No such luck with mirrors. You cant avoid the damn things. Nor can you avoid getting old.

Time to slay the dragon, I tell myself. Im old enough. Fight back. Better to be predator than prey.

Growing old should come as no surprise; I have been at it for years. I should be able to turn to the mirror and greet my reflection as I would a sister. She and I go back a long way, and yet each time the two of us meet, I am taken by surprise. She is old and I am young!

Supposedly you are as young as you feel. Your body is like a pair of pants with an elastic waistbandself-adjusting. So, the older you get, the more comfortable you should feel inside your skin. To my mind thats stretching the truth.

Gaining weight, losing momentum, making New Years Resolutions in the middle of the year, wondering who I might have been had Lady Luck favoured me and dutifully pouting, sinning, forgiving, making do, baking, returning phone calls, embracing my dear old husband and adult children, looking in on the marvellous baby blue sky and savouring a second cup of coffee in the backyard, are all part and parcel of my daily life now. Having no nine-to-five job to rush to, I can retire to the den and watch TV or daydream. Ive done it allonce, twice, a hundred times. And yet I cant believe I am turning the big 50. Remembering the look on my aunts face as she lay dying, I wonder how I can possibly court joy, chase after Isdom (I dont dare call it Wisdom) and expect to succeed?

The problem is, and get this straight, I liked being young, I tell my husband, a licensed therapist. I liked my slim figure and golden brown hair. Back then I was optimistic and sure of myself. Grey hair, wrinkles, and self-doubtstheyre all part of an elaborate hoax to cover up who I am. Really am!

The important thing, he says, is to be able to joke about your age. If you can do that, count yourself lucky. Knowing how to tell a joke is more valuable than knowing how to add and subtract. (Much good math skills do when you are down in the dumps.) Jokes, tall tales, embellished truths and little white lies (I love your tie!) go a long way in making life, and more importantly, dying bearable.

Dont tell me Ill get used to getting old, because I wont. Dont tell me to look for the silver lining, because I have looked and have not found it. I have put on rose-coloured glasses and the world did not change colour. From grey to grey. Little white lies boost morale, inspire good feelings, but lets call a spade a spade. Aging is as unnatural as turning the other cheek when you are singled out and made fun of.

No one expects you to like getting old. If getting old were no big deal, if the thought of dying were as appealing as drinking a cool glass of lemonade on a hot day, if mortality were a joke, would life be worth living? Make a list of things you want to do before you kick the bucket and then do them. Stay in the moment. How many clichs do you need before you get it? You got one life to live, enjoy it.

If only I could do as suggested if only I could live it up. If only I could sing in the rain. If only I could forget my problems. If only aging would come as second nature, I mightjust mightbe happy. I want direction. I want to take a course, How to Age Gracefully, 101, pass it with flying colours and be done with it. On to the next challenge! Unfortunately, you cant teach an old dog new tricks.

My husband does not agree. Picking up his wood recorder, he insists that aging is like learning to play a musical instrument. You have to learn how to do it so that it becomes second nature. All you will get from a violin or piano is noise if you dont practice.

If I want to age well (I sure do!), I should do the required exercises. I should, I suppose, turn to the mirror as would a musician turn to Mozart and Bach. (Whats there not to love?) Unfortunately, I cant do it. All the mirrors I come across either snarl or bite.

G etting old is easy, staying young is hard workits a full-time occupation. I should quit while Im ahead, or risk being told: Youre fired. No one can turn back the clock.