Thoughts on aging...

"So glad you got to see Annie," was what my Argentine friend Teeny (nickname for Christina) wrote in an email from Buenos Aires this week. Meeting Teeny after 54 years is one of those threads of my childhood that I never imagined I'd be connecting many years later. As fate would have it, I met Teeny, (now a mother of four grown children and grandmother of 10) living three blocks from where I was renting an apartment last month in Recoleta in Buenos Aires. It seemed that we were neighbors again although not across the street as we had been when we were little girls, exactly the same age, growing up on Calle Balcarce in suburban Acassuso. There were more coincidences to come. Her favorite and only living Aunt Anne, lives an hour from me in Hanover, New Hampshire. Not to mention Teeny's first cousin, Archer Mayor, is a Vermonter and happens to be a popular mystery writer of at least 21 published books.

Listening to Teeny talk about her family, the good and very tragic things that have transpired over 50 years, she said, "Annie was the mother I should have had." I was curious to meet Aunt Anne, who is her mother Erica's younger sister. I called her last week when I was home in Vermont and we set a date for a visit last Thursday.

Anne Mayor is a 90 year-old widow who looks ten years younger. She lives at Kendal, a life care retirement community in Hanover, N.H. where she moved with her husband when he retired many years ago. She speaks in a strong low, gutteral voice. "Hola, bienvenida," she greeted me in perfect Spanish, as she was born and grew up in Argentina. She married Mr. Mayor, an American businessman and widower with four young children, in 1947 and became an American. She told me when her husband worked for Boeing they lived in a big house in the center of Paris for ten years where she raised four step children and had a son and daughter of her own. She sounds like an Argentine when she speaks in Spanish but also an American when she switches to English. If I didn't know her background story I might even take her for a New Englander. Her clear blue eyes (no eye glasses) peer at you intently and her demeanor is not typical of an old lady. Neither frail or sweet are adjectives I could use to describe her. Strong, worldly, and keenly intelligent are better descriptors.

We sat in the living room of her spacious apartment, with windows overlooking the bare spring New Hampshire landscape, surrounded by floor to ceiling shelves full of books including all her son's novels. On the wall behind the sofa were portraits, silhouettes, and art by family members. Her apartment is neat and orderly and she exudes a presence that is in control of everything around her. Nothing is out of place and her well coordinated, comfortable slacks and sweater attest to the fact that neatness is important in her life. I couldn't help but conclude that she probably knows where everything is in her apartment.

The truth is I found her somewhat intimidating as I prattled on about my relationship to her niece, Teeny and my delight in finding her again after many years. She listened politely and filled in some gaps about the family. But speaking of Teeny she smiled with a warmth I hadn't seen before and told me "Teeny is like one of my kids!" As I talked about my own family, and briefly about my well-travelled life nothing I said surprised her in the least. Everywhere I mentioned that I had lived or traveled to, she had been or knew about.

I had brought some family photos that Teeny had given me last week of her large "brood" of children and grandchildren. She peered with interest at them and when I asked if she knew who all Teeny's 10 grandchildren are who live in Buenos Aires she did not hesitate to reply, "Of course, I do". I had expected her to say she hadn't been back to Argentina for 10 years but in fact, she told me she was back for a visit two years ago and goes frequently to visit old friends. Then she took me into the kitchen to show me and name the people in the photos on her refrigerator door. I couldn't help but notice how the photos were arranged in neat rows unlike most refrigerator "bulletin boards" where people tend to put up things willy nilly. She named all her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren without hesitation or thought.

As I drove home to Vermont after our visit, I was composing an email in my head to Teeny as if my mission was accomplished. I also found myself looking for the likenesses of the Teeny I knew as a child and saw recently, with this very imposing aunt of hers. There are similarities particularly in their strong personalities and the large families they both raised. I think of women like Teeny and Ann Mayor as true matriarchal figures. Yet I missed Teeny's genuine warm demeanor.

Perhaps if I visit Teeny's aunt again I will be more relaxed and less overwhelmed. To me she personifies the well known saying , "you are only as old as you allow yourself to be. As I age, I notice how others are doing it before me. In this continuing quest of growing old gracefully, I will remember Teeny's, Aunt Anne.