I celebrated my 88th birthday recently. Funny, inside I don’t feel a day over 18, but I soon realize that is not so when I try to put on my socks or dig something out of the back of the refrigerator. I’m afraid I don’t gracefully accept the limitations that go along with the blessings of still being around to enjoy this world and this life. I’ve learned a lot during those years.
The School of Hard Knocks teaches by letting us learn from our mistakes. Once we get our fingers burned, we should know better than to repeat the performance — but I seem to be a slow learner. I tend to give people or situations a second chance. After all, people aren’t all alike, and maybe I’m merely a victim of coincidence or just plain stubborn. However, I am now ready to list a few maxims that have been proven by time.
I’ve learned the bitter lesson that people don’t always keep promises. My parents were meticulous about promises — definitely ones made to children. I grew up with the firm belief that I could count on a promise — especially from a grown-up. I later learned that probably 83% of people who make a promise immediately begin planning how they can get out of it before the due date.
This applies to anything from returning a borrowed item to sticking to a diet. Makes it dangerous to count on things like financial or moral support and fidelity.
Then there’s the lesson of “three’s a crowd.” A friend invites you to lunch, then mentions that a childhood friend, a sister, or a college roommate will be joining you.
“You’ll love her,” the friend insists, “she’s great fun. I haven’t seen her for years.” Here is where the sirens should start to wail and you should suddenly remember an appointment you can’t break Better to go to the dentist than be trapped with two chattering old buddies reminiscing. One can study the menu, examine the restaurant decor, or eavesdrop on the next table for only so long.
Avoid the celebratory party where an appreciative audience is required to relive the glory of some accomplishment.
Unless the celebrant is very dear to your heart — and unless you have not the tiniest stain of jealousy — you should send a bottle of champagne and regrets.
The hero of the moment will be unbelievably modest or unbearably smug and you will quickly become bored by the only topic of conversation. Spending two or three hours in unlimited gushing is exhausting.
Beware of the casual invitation, everything from “drop in any time” to “if you ever get to this part of the country, be sure to look us up.” More times than not, your host or hostess will be on the way out the door for a wedding rehearsal or in bed with the flu when you “drop-in.”
The former classmate or shirt-tail relation who insisted on being “looked up” will be, at the moment of your unexpected arrival, hosting a meeting of the garden club, volunteering at school in twenty minutes, or visiting an ailing aunt.
Don’t even consider the suggestion to “stay with us a few days during your vacation.” You will most likely be bedded down on an air mattress in the rec room, trodden by kids and dogs, fed carry-out pizza or charred hamburgers on the patio, and entertained with endless games of Monopoly or home videos of last year’s vacation. It will rain the whole time — count on it.
Expect about 50% replies to any RSVP you request. Providing stamped, addressed envelopes helps — but not much.
To be safe, you simply have to be prepared for everybody you invite to show up. Have contingency plans for any outdoor event you plan — from a family picnic to a garden wedding. This is especially true if you live in Iowa. Don’t believe everything you see in the movies.
Remember that estimates are only estimates — and they are always lower than the final bill.
And, finally — and most importantly — never assume that, just because something turned out okay the first time, doing it the same way will always ensure success. Every day holds adventures and surprises and the only sure thing is that there’s no such thing as a sure thing.
A former volunteer and substitute teacher in the Solon schools, Milli is an artist and poet who lives near Morse where she also creates unique greeting cards and handmade books.