. . . and
since Aloysius Alzheimer wasn’t born until 1864, ‘Alzheimer’s’ didn’t exist
either. The old women and men of the tribe were wise. Okay, maybe they didn’t have any teeth or hair left. And
maybe, just like today, those wise people would forget things or lose something
from time to time. But they kept their minds and bodies active, and that could slow down the aging process
considerably. Atrophy can’t happen to tissue that’s in constant use. So, when
the younger members of the tribe came to the old wise woman or man for
advice—‘How do we keep beetles out of the grain?’ ‘What’s the best cure for
heat rash?’—the wise person felt useful.
Recently, I
was part of a community service programme to teach computer skills to seniors.
My students, farmers’ wives, were nearly eighty and had never used a keyboard,
much less a computer. While I did teach them useful skills, they taught me surprising
things as well. Like the basics of milking a cow, herringbone vs. swingover
techniques, and what kind of milk can be used for drinking or must be used for
cheese. They also taught me a few things about cooking (an activity I’ve never enjoyed) by sharing recipes we
found online. They calmly explained things that would normally send me into a
panic attack—separating eggs, making whipped cream, choosing the right
ingredients for Irish Christmas cake. While learning what ‘Ctrl’ and ‘Alt’
meant, they joked about their dentures or how they wouldn’t be caught dead in a
swim suit. Yet, after each computer class, these wise women of the village
hurried off to set dancing or yoga or a céile in the neighbouring county.
Did I
mention—This was a volunteer job, but I got paid in a currency called
‘insight,’ making the whole thing a wonderful experience I won’t forget.
