stories:1

She's been holding her own all her life. Left home young, never married, never had kids. When she says she's alone in this world she's not kidding. For the past several years her social security check has gotten her by, in a senior-rent-controlled-apartment -- but minimally so. Precariously so. She's getting tired of living on tea and rice. Of keeping the heat turned so uncomfortably low all winter. Of accepting -- sometimes -- the painfully well-intentioned kindnesses of friends or neighbors. Of the mind-numbing hours it takes to cross town or do errands on the bus. Of the loneliness seeping back in, ever since they closed the senior center for lack of funding. She tells me, "Lately, I find it much easier to get through the month if I don't go anywhere, or do anything." She's incredibly lucky to be well, mobile, active: not in need of health care, since that would be out of the question. She's good at living lightly. She spends much time meditating. She cares for her plants. Her housekeeping is immaculate. She writes or makes art, when she can gather enough found materials for it. She checks out books from the library, and is always engrossed in an autobiography, a spiritual seeker's account, a poetry collection. She's one of the most articulate conversationalists I know. Her striking, edgy sentences come out near-perfect, ready-for-print. I harbor a deep secret desire to write a novel based on her life. She's lived freely, adventurously, dangerously, generously. And now she's one more superfluity in a society that has no need of its elders, no use for its storytellers, and little compassion to share with those who didn't play their lifetime roles as consumers, or find a partner to play the role for them. Arriving at retirement age without IRA's, investments, or equities. In a job market that surely wouldn't give her a second thought, should she apply for the most menial work. Materially speaking, she's stuck. Her road stories alone would be worth their weight in gold, did we live in a world that knew how to weigh such things. Instead she's expected to live completely on a monthly sum that would only cover the entertainment budget for a lot of USAmericans. She wants to invite friends for dinner, or go out and join the human race once in a while, but she can't afford it. She describes for me in relishing detail the recipes taped to her refrigerator which she would prepare for her guests, could she only afford to buy the ingredients. She's fed up with the stress of stretching it all so thin -- money, energy, Life -- to the point that she's thinking of giving up her apartment and 'going nomadic'. Testing the street's mercy or the highway's charity sounds a likelier bet than counting on any grace from a society accustomed to forgetting the humanity of its members who can't pay the fees for membership...