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Mary Rose McGill Disappears



Let us age with:

Grace Humor Courage and Confidence


Pass this on to other seasoned women who will enjoy it.

 


“Disappeared!” Marge Aaron said it so loud the sound went straight through the closed door of Alphonso Greatwood’s oversized office.


“Disappeared.” Marge said it more softly this time, looking at her friends who were still standing – with the exception of Alphonso - who was seated on his scooter, the Mean Green Machine.

 

Hadley Joy Morris-Whitfield, Robinson Leary, Marge Aaron, Alphonso Greatwood, Raven Five Horns and Wiley Vondra all stood in a lop-sided circle, staring at each other. Geoffrey, the mastiff, stared with them, sitting at attention, ready to search further for Mary Rose McGill. Mary Rose had disappeared. They had called and searched and called again. Geoffrey had done his best sniffing. Now it looked as if Wiley Vondra was going to cry. In fact, they all looked as if they were going to cry.

 

“A is for ‘Anxiety’,” Hadley observed. They had been going through the number of the letter A’s that applied to Aging.

 

“And Annoying,” Robbie added. “It’s annoying that we can’t reach her or find her.”

 

“Angry,” Marge muttered. “I’m mad that we can’t find her and I’m mad at Mary Rose. What if she’s just gone off somewhere and not let us know, turned off her phone, didn’t care,”

 

“I’m not angry, I’m scared!” Wiley said looking at Raven. “But you’re an Apache. You’re a tracker. Why didn’t you find her?”

 

“She’s not a deer,” Raven said quietly. He looked at his friends. “Wiley and I went to their apartment and searched it. Her purse and coats are there, no note, nothing missing except her phone, which we assume she has with her.” He shrugged. Robbie moved closer to him.

 

Marge pulled her phone out of her pocket. “One more try,” she said, holding the phone close to her mouth. “Call Mary Rose McGill.” The call went immediately to voice mail. “The phone’s been turned off,” she said. Marge looked at the group, her face serious. “We call in the big guns.” She punched in a number and a man answered. “Abner, we need the nose,” Marge said into the phone.

 

They watched as Marge had an anxious conversation with the man on the other end. After about five minutes, she put the phone back in her pocket at looked at everyone in the room. No one had taken their eyes off her. “Special detective friend of mine. Was in the K-9 unit, kept the dog after he retire.” She looked at Geoffrey. “Sorry Geoff, but he’s a professional.” She looked at Wiley. “They’re on their way.”

 

Geoffrey didn’t care.

 

They waited. Every few minutes one of the friends would pull out a phone and call Mary Rose. Every time it went directly to voice mail. Alphonso made coffee. Everyone had a cup. No one took a sip.

 


At last there was a knock on the door. Marge hurried over to open it. A tall man with grey hair, dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, and a heavy jeans jacket strode in. Following him was a huge dog.

 

“For Pete’s sake,” Wiley moaned. “It’s a friggin’ Great Dane!”

 

Geoffrey rose to his feet, slowly but elegantly, and went over to the big dog following her trainer into the room. They touched noses and Geoffrey straightened up, did a somewhat embarrassing doggie grin, and began to drool.

 



“Abner and Dagmar,” Marge said, introducing the duo. Best noses, noses retired that is, in the business.”

 

“Dagmar,” Robbie whispered to Hadley. “Of course. She’s a Dane.”

 

“Where do we start?” Wiley asked.

 

“Your apartment,” Abner replied. “She had to walk out of there.”

 

Just then Wiley’s phone rang. “It’s Mary Rose,” he yelled, and he put the phone on speaker. “Where are you, Mary Rose?” He was trying to remain calm.

 

They listened as a man’s voice said, “It’s not your Mary Rose. We have her and if you want her back, you’ll have to pay. Instructions will follow.” The phone went dead.


“She’s been kidnapped,” Abner said quietly. Marge nodded. 

 



A Note From Joy

I want to be with those women!”

Everything Changes: Everything Ages (Buddhist Wisdom)

It is what it is; it becomes what you make of it.

 

A is for Aging

A Burned-Out Old Broad’s, Perspective on Growing

My father died when he was 63

I was 22

He was ancient

Now my son is 63

He’s just a kid

Awake     Aware      Admit

 

I had a great yard. After 30 years it was just where I wanted it. Thick, green grass, huge shade trees, Hosta beds that had gotten us on garden walks and an Iris bed that our neighbor called, “Your Monet Garden.”

 

Then one day I was mowing the front lawn, took the last sweep across it with my super neat electric mower and thought, “This isn’t fun anymore. This is work.”

 

I went inside. My husband, Marv, was at his desk in our basement office, and I said, “You want to go look at apartments in the Old Market?

 

We did. We rented the house out and lived for two years in the magical, trendy downtown district called the Old Market. We loved it.

 

I became awake, aware and I admitted – I was getting old.

 

Stop fooling around. I was old. I am 85 now and I was 74 then. The timing was right. Marv died three years later and by that time we had sold the house and gone into the beautiful retirement complex, Arboretum Village.

 

I am now among the oldest of the old. The average age of death for a woman is 79. If you are generous and make that 80, that means middle age is 40. My two young girls are old! They are in their 50’s.

 

Sometimes we are Awakened to our Age suddenly – by a broken hip, bad fall, illness, scary diagnosis - the realization that if we get down on the floor we have to have a plan to get up.

 

It is Absolutely all right to be old. It is Awesome, Admirable and Astonishing.

 

We are good at denying it, but when we get there, it’s a proud moment when we Admit it and realize we are on a new Adventure.

 

See all those A’s! And there will be more every couple of weeks. And one good thing – we are the first generation who could laugh at Aging.

 

You know you’re old when 9 o’clock becomes the new midnight.


You know you’re old when you’re slowed down by your doctor instead of the police.


When you’re a man, you know you’re old when the only females who come after you are mosquitos.

 

When you’re a woman, you know you’re old when you realize you are grateful that wrinkles don’t hurt.


Grace, Humor, Courage and Confidence



 

 


 

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