Average Age - 80
Recently, I was invited to Gisborne to talk to a group of seniors - average age, they said, 80.
It’s funny what goes through your mind as you picture that. Somehow, when we look at “old people”, we assume they’ve been old all their lives. We wonder what we might have in common. We forget they’ve been us, we just haven’t been them yet.
I got over myself. For one, I’m a fan of positive ageing (I’m having a crack at it) plus I firmly believe that all of us are, on the inside, about 18-years-old. None of us feels terribly different from the girl with the dreams and the sparkle and ambition. Except our knees hurt and we can’t stay up past nine.
So I said yes to this talk, and I am endlessly glad I did. It was a hoot, and l’ve made a bunch of new friends – I genuinely got weepy when I said goodbye that Friday afternoon.
My minder from the committee, Miriam – who immediately impressed as sporty and told me a hilarious story about a kite day she’d once helped organise - picked me up from the airport on Thursday and delivered me to my very excellent motel, then took me to dinner with the organising committee – all of them over 80, they told me exuberantly - at a very excellent restaurant.
There was a moment when Nona appeared confused about the menu – small and large sharing plates – and I thought, Here we go, best we get some help from the young waitstaff, but then suddenly the whole thing fell into place for Nona and she ordered a perfectly balanced selection for the table and it was done.
There was wine, and stories about nursing (Nona) and local art (Jean) and sport (Miriam) and beaming smiles from Noel who just looked chuffed to be surrounded by all these beautiful and charming women.
We talked about Springbok tour protests - Nona had been on standby at Gisborne hospital in case of protest injuries and I had coincidentally been a protester there, though uninjured. I’m glad of that but regret missing the opportunity to meet Nona years earlier.
There was talk of recent protests, too – they’d rallied against the dumping of pay equity claims last year. Each of them kept hinting at the other’s remarkable feats – careers and community activism – but seemed to downplay their own.
At my talk the next day – in the foyer of the splendid War Memorial Theatre – I felt like I was chatting to old friends. I was the light entertainment after safety presentations – online banking scams, fire and emergency, Hato Hone St John and the Sunshine Bus service (originally set up 42 years ago it turns out by my new friend Miriam) which takes seniors to and from hospital visits for free, or to shops and cafes for a small fee.
There was a delicious lunch produced by the Country Women’s Institute and, over fluffy sandwiches and homemade biscuits, I became firm friends with Barbara who writes letters to the editor and gifted me a brilliant idea for a fresh feminist campaign.
Later, I found surnames for the committee and googled them. Nurse (now a hospital volunteer) Nona Aston was also Gisborne’s Deputy Mayor and Miriam Swarbrick (née Read) a famous athlete - both have multiple honours. Jean Johnston is a researcher, author and printmaker who, amongst other things, puts together exhibitions, one of which was titled “Ambitious Gisborne Women” and their impact on Tairāwhiti over a century ago.
Someone needs to do an updated exhibition about these women.