Reading the book, At Seventy: a Journal, by May Sarton (NY, W. W. Norton & Co., 1984), put into my mind the notion of mentoring. Although as a young person—the time we imagine we most need mentoring—I got very little of it, I have grown to value this function. My teachers in college were almost all men. As I reach back into that earlier era, I realize there was one female mentor in college: Shirley Kennedy, an anthropologist who’d worked in India. The men were perhaps nervous, fearing their attention might be misconstrued as sexual in nature (in graduate school, I did suffer that kind of ‘mentoring with an agenda’ from one committee member). In any event, there was precious little in the way of useful personal or professional advice directed my way. Later, as a young professional in Hawaii, Goro Uehara served as a genuine mentor. He was a soil scientist, so although full of useful advice, connections, and ideas, his help was remote from my own field. Still I remember his attention and help with gratitude.
Sarton’s book though inspired in me an appreciation for the passive mentoring I receive now—at a time when one imagines one would no longer need it. The truth is, however, that life is a constant process of change, and we need models to guide us throughout our lives. Sarton’s book, her journal, documents the year following her 70th birthday—something that particularly interested me, since that birthday looms for me in less than three years time; and several close friends have just passed that milestone. The book was a delight to read, partly because it takes place nearby, with similar flowers and animals and seasons, providing a convenient conceptual link to my own life at this stage; but also because she shares many of my interests. She delights in much that also delights me: solitude, writing, friendships, reading, gardening, pets, travel, work, love, stimulation (intellectual, aesthetic). Learning of her ways of meshing these multitudinous interests was instructive and encouraging, strengthening my own feeling that one can continue to grow and enjoy life while aging.
I have also benefited from watching my mother age. She has provided an inspiring example that I hope I can follow. Although fairly well crippled by arthritis, she has managed, at nearly 89, to maintain her zest for life. She copes with, and laughs at, adversity. She accepts the deaths of her friends, the loss of her loved ones, with an amazing degree of equanimity. I marvel at this, knowing the important roles these friends and loved ones have played in her life. She remains engaged, and her life continues to be meaningful to her and to the many who love her, as she copes as sensibly as possible with devastating loss.
My cousin, one of those who just turned 70, has also served as a wonderful mentor. Like my mother, her zest for life is undiminished. She teaches me (and others) yoga, periodically tossing in bits of Buddhist philosophy, along with the guidance about specific yoga moves. I have thought long and hard about one of these bits, which I paraphrase here: that we are going to get old, sick, lose everything we care about, and die….and therefore we need to live in and appreciate the moment. Her reminders of this, along with her interest in what she calls ‘mindfulness’, I have found inspiring and helpful in coping with my own losses during these recent years.
And then there is the example of my three pseudo-step-sisters. They are all adults, the daughters of my mother’s long time partner. Together we have coped, sadly, with their father’s mental and physical deterioration. Working with them to address the many challenges that have emerged in his care (which for a couple of years was primarily in my mother’s hands, and until very recently in her home) has been a wonderful confirmation of the human ability to cooperate. All of us have struggled with the loss, the anxiety, the extra work, the unexpected emergencies involved in his transition from home care to a home for Alzheimer’s patients. The level of cooperative teamwork, trying to make the lives of both my mother and their father as good as possible under the circumstances, has been another source of inspiration.
The examples that have struck me are all women. I am reminded that throughout much of my working life, I have been surrounded primarily by men. Men can, of course, mentor women (I’ve learned a great deal, primarily of a professional nature, from my male colleagues). But…I particularly appreciate the guidance and example (a kind of unintended mentoring) I’ve gotten recently from my women friends and relatives—many of whom are struggling as I am with eldercare issues.