Diary of a Summer Crone

Hello everybody! Welcome to Crone Life, my weekly update on my life as a crone. Especially warm greetings to those who subscribed after I daringly posted a link to this baby in the comments section of Tressie McMillan Cottom’s recent New York Times article “Ladies, We’re Entering Our Crone Era.”

Given the new subscribers, I thought this would be a good moment to share some of my thoughts on cronehood.

My official life as crone began about 9 years ago, more or less, when I entered menopause. It was somewhat anti-climactic–it was the third time in a row I had a 12-month gap between menstrual periods. This time they never came back. Back then, I still cared about having a career, so I enrolled in a master’s program at 60, just in time for the pandemic.

I am proud of myself for getting an advanced degree some 40 years after my BA, and for doing it online during a global pandemic while also working full time. I even maintained an A average! Big pat on the back! But I have become aware that, at almost 66, I probably only have about 4-5 years of full-time work left in me. I need to think beyond that. I was never one of those people who couldn’t wait to retire, but having plenty of free time in which to think my own thoughts seems more and more attractive.

I’ve also given up on trying to look younger, not that I ever tried very hard. I’ve always looked younger than my chronological age1 and I figure the facial wrinkles, spider veins, and gray streaks that have shown up in the past few years are merely age appropriate. Would I like to look younger? Sure. Would I go under the knife for it? No. For one thing, I can’t afford it. For another, that anti-aging stuff you see and hear about is aimed at women 25 years younger than I am. I’m certain none of that red light-retinol stuff is going to make a big difference to present-day me. I still wear SPF though.

Aside from feeling much less career oriented (a big change, actually) I need to focus on my health and vitality. My chronic physical issues feel like they’re closing in on me, exacerbated by several major injuries since 2015, when I broke my ankle. In 2016, I broke both wrists in a fall. More recently, I broke my foot and fractured my kneecap in a 2023 car accident. In 2024 I fell and tore my rotator cuff and broke my upper arm. I had a shoulder replacement six months later. I’m still recovering from that. Plenty more health issues lie ahead, I’m sure, though my mother is 95 and still going. I’m concerned because the Mid-Hudson Valley is something of a healthcare desert, although there are plenty of orthopedists and GI doctors. I need to find more local specialists, because traveling to NYC (or worse, Albany) for visits gets old fast.

Otherwise–I am still me. I don’t feel I’m losing myself yet, but I am keenly aware that I probably only have about 15 “good” years left and I want to make the most of them.

In addition to my mother, my family consists of my husband, my son, a cat, two sisters and their respective spouses, and several nieces. I love and adore them all, but only the cat gets spotlighted here. Her name is Veronica and she is almost three.

Here in this space I do a bit of reviewing (once a month “Content Consumption” posts), a bit of reflecting on aging, a bit of blogging. At times I will compose a take on Our Current Mess. I haven’t done that in a while though. I feel like there’s nothing to say, really, until after the midterms. Yes, it’s all horrid. But let’s see what happens first, before we get our knickers completely twisted. I just finished the second week of a five-week break and I don’t miss working at all. I do feel a bit guilty for not vacation-maxxing as much as I could, but isn’t that always the way.

The World Cup dominated my life this past week,2 though I did have time to read some books and visit my mother at the beginning of the week. She was the same as she has been, very happy to see me but never entirely present in the moment. I e showed her every photo of my visit to Storm King and my cat that I could find on my phone. She was entertained. I drank a mini-Coke and ate some fruit.

England lost to Argentina, the less said about that the better. We didn’t even watch the third-place or final games.3

Probably won’t mention sports again until 2030, when I will be almost 70. I do love soccer/futbol and watch professional games throughout the year, including the Europa League and the Champions League, the Premier League, Bundesliga, La Liga, etc. We watch women’s professional soccer too. I am comfortable in saying that I love soccer and understand the rules, although my grasp of offside is not yet instinctive.

My little family has been watching the World Cup together for 36 years now. It’s our tradition. My husband always freaks out a little bit about England games but that’s a typical national thing. I mean, they’re all crying in the pub at one point or another, forever scarred by never getting that second star on their jerseys. Which may change someday! But not this year.

On Thursday and Friday I went to Manhattan to visit one of my sisters, see some art and eat some food. It was all extremely pleasurable, though overshadowed by the bad air. Masks were required.4 We saw Clinamen at the Park Avenue Armory but not much else. I ate a brief breakfast with my 21 year old niece, whose life is frenetically busy. Youth!

This next week my husband and I are going to spend a few days in the Catskills, where I’ve never been, despite having lived only 90 minutes away for almost 10 years. I want to wade in some waterfalls and hike some easy trails and eat artisanal ice cream. Maybe we’ll visit the World’s Largest Kaleidoscope. I hope not to encounter any bears.

After that, I have two more weeks to cram in anything else I might want to do. Then it’s back to the grind.

She loves this summer weather! Neither the heat dome nor the wildfire smoke fazed her. She likes to spend her nights outside and her days snoozing, while being thoroughly brushed and stroked. She’s a simple creature.