Quick Take
Lookout columnist Claudia Sternbach is starting to venture out in the evenings with her friends. She is discovering that many of her fellow seniors are having quite a good time in Santa Cruz and that quite a few venues are packed and humming with high-spirited folks “who remember when the Beatles first came on the scene.” She still misses her husband, Michael, who died suddenly in February after a two-month battle with cancer. But she is trying to venture out into the world a little and lists a few places she has discovered.
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Some show up for the meatballs. Swedish meatballs with lingonberry sauce on the side. Almond cookies are also popular.
But, the main reason many senior citizens in Shanghai gather in the Ikea cafe is to socialize. The coffee is free, the conversations are lively. Some don’t even bother eating off the Ikea menu and simply bring their own midday meal with them.
When I read about this unexpected meeting spot for seniors in The New York Times, I began to wish we, too, had an Ikea, but I could not decide if it was because I adore Swedish meatballs or appreciate the idea of meeting a few aging single folks who just want to hang out.
As I read further in the article, I learned many of the older men are looking for young women to share their lives as well as their Swedish delicacies.
Why am I not surprised?
In any case, even though I am not – and never can imagine – hungering for any kind of late-life romance, or as it is called by the Ikea folks, “Twilight Love,” it did get me thinking about ways boomers like myself might keep ourselves entertained while enjoying a bit of socializing.
My friend Becky, whose husband Eddy died this past year, likes to spend an early evening out at the El Vaquero Winery tasting room in Corralitos. She has invited me often and finally, a week or so ago, I accepted her kind offer.
There would be music, she told me, and dancing if I felt the urge to kick up my flip-flops. She assured me I would not have to hit the dance floor if I didn’t want.
I didn’t want.
We arrived around 5:30 p.m. on Saturday and the place was jamming already. You need a reservation if you want to snag a table. And while of course there were some in the crowd who could be children or even grandchildren of boomers, the gray-haired abounded. The outdoor dance floor was packed. Tie-dye and Hawaiian shirts were standard attire and I would guess there were quite a few original Deadheads in the crowd.
This was the kind of gathering where one didn’t have to wait to be asked to dance. Feel the music and want to move? Just make a spot in the gyrating crowd and let loose. It was a beautiful thing to see so many oldies boogying like no one’s watching, unbridled joy on their faces.
I stuck to wine and a bit of conversation and headed out and by 7 p.m. I went back home and settled in with a good book and a second glass of wine (don’t judge), but still felt like I had given myself a break in my routine.
Progress?
MORE FROM CLAUDIA STERNBACH
Climbing into bed that night I curled up next to the large pile of pillows on my right and tried to pretend Michael was there while I struggled to melt into sleep. And like every night I thanked Michael for being such a good partner. For managing our finances so that I have a roof over my head and can pay my bills.
I am lucky. I know that often is not the case. Just last week right here in Lookout there was an article about how many seniors here in Santa Cruz County are fearful they might not be able to stay in their homes. I can only imagine adding that level of stress and fear to a broken heart.
The following morning, a warm Sunday, Becky and I ventured out once again. This time to Aptos Center, where my friend Mary Kay Martin, who is about my age, was doing a pop-up concert. She recently returned after spending a year traveling around Europe on her own and doing pop-ups everywhere she went. Now she is celebrating and has “given birth” to her third album, “Lighthouse.”
Becky and I each grabbed a coffee and found a spot in the shade, and as I listened to Mary Kay and surveyed the crowd, I realized once again that Becky and I were in the majority when it came to the age of the devotees. Everyone had a sun hat, and again, lots of wisps of gray and white framing the faces.
And then, just last night my neighbors Larry and Patty called. They also are what we politely call seniors. Did I want to join them for happy hour down at Sevy’s Bar and Kitchen at the Seacliff Inn for drinks and snacks?
Apparently this, too, is a place which is attracting lots of enthusiastic dancing and music and quite a few of the patrons remember when the Beatles first came on the scene. I had to decline, but did ask for a rain check.
This is new to me. For so many years Michael and I made plans together. We made dates to walk on the beach and then go out and listen to music or we’d make a dinner reservation for two and sip cocktails outside while watching the sky turn dark and the stars come out.
If I think about those evenings now I am crushed. An elephant sits on my chest and my oxygen is cut off. I have to push those memories away. I’m grateful I have those date-night evenings, but I can’t think of them just yet. If I dwell on those days, I only feel grief. So I try to block those memories. I try to say yes to new experiences.
And I will continue to explore new opportunities. Libraries, lectures, and so on. I am just beginning this journey.
I am trying. Trying to venture out a bit. Trying to be OK sitting in a crowd watching others enjoy the entertainment in our community.
I think about Michael while watching life swirl around me. I try to imagine what he would say if he were here. What he might say if I walked through my front door and found him standing in the kitchen in his cycling apparel, helmet resting on the kitchen table after a long ride, a gin and tonic in his hand and a grin on his face.
Good job girl. Good job. Oh what I would give.