Fresh and wholesome

   Judy was facing three-quarters away and leaning into the boxed mushrooms and the bags of greens, so I hesitated to say hello. What if she turned to face me as a total stranger? What then? But Kroger has white lights in its produce department and, whoever the woman was, they were icing the halo of her hair. I thought, "Live a little," and I called out what I hoped really was her name.

   She was exactly who I'd thought, and she remembered me, too, because she'd been a group mentor for the Artist Inc. program I was lucky enough to attend in 2014 — and unlucky enough to be attending in the early weeks after my mother collapsed. Mom appeared to be dying — she was dying, every day. And I was soldiering courageously on.

   We chatted during Artist Inc., but I wasn't in her small group, and the lighting in the building where we met wasn't of the caliber that sells produce. I'd never seen her eyes in good light before. Imagine the Arkansas River after a week of heavy rain. She calls them "brown," but to this potter, they are Salt Celadon Liner in its river-water mood.

   I was enjoying the novelty of looking right into those eyes when she mentioned these blog posts and Facebook and touched my sleeve. She said the words, "My mother ..." and I stiffened all over — but without registering that I had.
   Then came unexpected syntax. I forget the word-for-word, but she wanted to tell me about the difficulties of having a mother who is 91, independent and well — an eccentric person, but not demented.
   Feeling my neck and shoulders suddenly relax, I realized how I'd tensed myself, bracing.

   Almost never do I hear talk about healthy old people any more. Most all the time, when someone touches me on the arm and starts into "My mom" or "My dad," what follows is so heartfelt that I want to console them, to share their pain. Because this is not a joyous situation, having the demented parents. These good caregivers deserve to be comforted; and, yes, there probably is a lot of comfort to be had from being part of a group with a common problem.

  But I wanted to hug Judy to thank her for not being just like me. It was such a relief to be reminded that old people also can be healthy.

   Statistically, most old people are not demented. According to a 2015 report by the Alzheimer's Association, (see https://www.alz.org/facts/downloads/facts_figures_2015.pdf) one-third of Americans older than 85 have Alzheimer's disease.
   That means two-thirds DON'T.
 
   Most old people do not have dementia.

   Also, besides hugging her, I should apologize to her for not hearing the story she wanted to share about the problems of caring about an elder who is still independent. My self-awareness of relief got in the way of being able to listen to what, for me, seemed a novel concern but what in reality is more like what's reality for most people.