My parents are old; my father is 86, my mother is 82. Like many men and women in their 80s, their health is failing to varying degrees. But, they still have each other, and we would most definitely sign up for a lifespan that stretches into the 80s. A few weeks ago, we had a small gathering to celebrate their 59th wedding anniversary. A pretty good run, if you ask me. My mother often tells me, in person and over the phone, in her Italian accent: “Peter, you know. Your father and me, we getting old.” To which I always reply: “Ma. There’s no ‘getting’ anymore. You have arrived at your destination. You ARE old!” We get a laugh out of that. But it’s true. There is no denying it is true.
My mother has macular degeneration. She is losing her
vision, a lot more rapidly than we would all like. Her kitchen is no longer as
active as it once was. Perils lie at every corner. When you cannot see well,
you cannot cook well. Combine this with the fact that she had a major fall a
few years ago that has greatly limited her mobility, and the days of the
vintage homemade pizza are numbered. Perhaps, sadly, they are over for good.
When I traveled down there to northern New Jersey last week for a quick visit and
to help with transportation to doctor appointments, she announced that there
was Ellio’s Pizza in the freezer, if I wanted it for lunch. She was apologetic.
No homemade pizza. She urged me to have the Ellio’s. It was lunchtime. I had
some Ellio’s Pizza. Did I like it, she wanted to know? Sure, Ma, it was great.
Good, good, as long as you like it, as long as you are full, she said. Of
course it’s not as good and not as satisfying as the homemade pizza; I wasn’t
going to say that, and make her feel any worse. But for now, frozen pizza in
their house is just as good, as long as they are around for a while longer to
share it with us.
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