Well, it’s finally come to pass – the youngest granddaughter is now driving. We knew the day would come, used to joke about it when she was a little child just learning how to ride a two-wheeler. Now she’s driving my car.

I think it’s pretty darn brave of me to sit in the passenger seat giving full control of not only my new car but my very life and well, hers too, as we s-l-o-w-l-y drive up and down the country roads of the Tri-Town area.

Her biggest fear is not causing bodily harm to us but, instead, damaging the car and creating a financial burden. I really couldn’t care less about the car exchanging my well-placed anxiety on the human factor. But that may be the difference between our chronological ages. Being older, I worry about life; she, being younger, believes life is endless. Deep sigh.

Anyway, she is driving and I am the passenger.

You notice different things from the passenger’s seat – like how close the trees are along curvy roads in Rochester or the deep gullies gouged out by decades of stormwater runoff. I can’t stop my vivid imagination from wondering how horrible it would be if a second from now the tire on my side got sucked into the breach. It doesn’t happen. I murmur, “Hey, you are doing really well.” She responds, “I know.”

The shingled and clapboard homes, the elongated pastures, the occasional flower stands and, yes, the thick trees sweep past our field of vision as we cruise along at 35 miles per hour. It becomes restful until a driver comes up behind us seeming to want to push our car along faster while up ahead is a bicyclist who can’t imagine the level of danger he is in.

Nothing happens. I say, “Don’t worry about that car. Just watch out for the guy on the bike.” She responds, “I know.”

Soon enough, the driver that was in a hurry turns off and is no longer threatening to drive right over us, and the bicyclist is still pedaling merrily along. A memory floats in to fill the ambient silence.

When this young woman was a baby and I was babysitting while her parents labored away, in order to get her to take a nap, I’d often put her in the car and drive her around.

Up and down Interstate 195 from the Mattapoisett to the Marion exit and back again, I’d gently maneuver the mini-van as I intermittently peeked in the rearview mirror for that moment when her little head would at last tilt to the side and she, in blissful baby-sleep, would finally nap.

I’d return home with my sleeping sweetheart, drive into our back lot, park the van under a shady tree and turn off the engine. For the next hour or so, I could read my book while she napped, or more often than not, I’d nap too.

During these occasions if my husband was home, he’d stealthily creep up to the driver’s door and whisper through the half-opened window, “Do you need anything?” No, I didn’t need a thing. As a grandparent, you know the importance of relishing the moment, the sheer unadulterated joy of watching a sleeping child. It only lasts forever in one’s mind.

Pulling out of my reverie, I realize she’s driving 40 miles per hour in a posted 40 mile per hour zone. I say, “Better to go a bit slower on this curvy road.” She responds, “I know,” and slows the car down to 35.

I want to tell her so many things. I want to impart all I’ve learned these six plus decades, all the wins and losses, how to process some of life’s misfortunes, how to build on one’s successes, how to drive this car expertly. I settle on the driving lesson.

Probably one of the most difficult aspects of being a parent or grandparent is knowing and accepting that we can’t deliver our children into adulthood without bumps and bruises. A very smart older woman once told me when I was still a young, thoroughly inexperienced mother that to protect one’s child from life’s blows was tantamount to being a bad parent. Simply put, they wouldn’t build the emotional muscles needed to bear up under the weight of all that was to come. I responded, “I know.”

Like the seventeen year old driving the car, I didn’t know then, but I sure know now.

Maybe one day she’ll reflect on the hours we drove around as she built up her driving skills and understand what I really wanted to say but didn’t, “The driving lessons are never really over.” Perhaps she’ll think, “I know – now.”

By Marilou Newell

Dog poop. It’s become an issue in Mattapoisett and now one young man, as part of a deal he made with the Mattapoisett selectmen to allow him to hold a dog walkathon as part of his Eagle Scout project, is going to try to do something about it.

Freemin Bauer, 16, of Mattapoisett, is a dog lover. He’s also a Boy Scout in Mattapoisett Troop #53 working towards completing his Eagle Scout Service Project. For his project, he wanted to find a way to benefit the dogs of his community but, now, his work will benefit the animals, their people, and the community at large.

“At first, I wanted to make a dog park for my Eagle Scout project, but we couldn’t find room,” said Bauer. “But then I started thinking, why don’t we do a dog walk?”

Bauer said he went to the selectmen and they approved his request to hold a dog walkathon, but there was a bit of a catch. The selectmen asked Bauer to work in a little ‘scoop your dog’s poop’ awareness. Bauer, of course, agreed.

He was at Harbor Days passing out “Do You Scoop the Poop” pamphlets encouraging responsible pet owners to scoop it, while recruiting participants for his Dog-Gone Walkathon on August 27.

“It’s a rain or shine event, and it’s twenty dollars to enter the walkathon,” said Bauer. There is a two-dog maximum per human walker, and the group will start the walkathon at 8:00 am on Saturday, August 27, by the tennis courts on Hammond Street.

The proceeds from the walk will benefit the most important part of Bauer’s project: repairs to the Fairhaven Animal Shelter.

“We’re going to be painting the floors and walls and inside the kennels,” said Bauer. He will also do some work outside the shelter, digging up the stone groundcover and replacing it with new stone.

Tee shirts will also be available at the walkathon. They’re antique orange, said Bauer, with a paw print on the front chest and on the back, “I’m a Mattapoisett Dog Walker.”

“I do like dogs,” said Bauer. “I’ve had dogs my whole life.” He will be walking his pug, Ziljian, during the walkathon.

If you don’t have a dog or a dog you can borrow, said Bauer, you can walk anyway! After all, it’s for a doggone good cause!

For more information about the Dog-Gone Walkathon on August 27, you can email Freemin Bauer at Bauer841@verizon.net.

By Jean Perry

On August 1, Marion’s Council on Aging staff, along with members of the Friends of the Marion COA and other senior community members, gathered to celebrate the first anniversary of the senior drop-in center at the Marion Music Hall and the lady who made it all happen.

The brainchild of a woman who has dedicated her life to improving the lives of others, Joanne Mahoney sought and found a way to provide Marion’s aging population with a “center,” a location where they could gather together to participate in a variety of activities.

Without a brick and mortar structure to call its own, the Marion COA, unlike its neighbors, wasn’t able to provide social or enrichment activities – activities that Mahoney believes are critical to senior citizens. After casting about trying to find a location, she approached the town about using the Music Hall. In her imagination, it was the right size with the right accessibility to allow programs for seniors to take place.

A year later, her vision was crystal clear. “I had two objectives,” Mahoney said. “The first one was to raise awareness that we needed a senior center, and the second was a get a place where people could come together,” she said. The Music Hall is open to seniors on Mondays and Wednesdays with such programs as chair yoga, blood pressure clinics, a social hour, buffet luncheons and lectures.

“We are seeing about 50 people throughout those days,” said Mahoney. Mahoney’s personality, training, and her long career as a psychologist added to her first person understanding of the needs of the aging. “Loss is the word that comes to mind,” she shared, “…you lose your husband, your kids move on, your job is gone, friends die, you deal with lots of loss…”

To combat the depression associated with loss, Mahoney believes you have to keep pushing forward, “The trick is to stay involved.” But without a place to go to, where others might be available for friendship or just to share a cup of coffee, Marion’s seniors were adrift.

Jean Wickenden Lake, lifelong Marion resident said, “Being able to come here is very exciting. I get a few hours away from home, hear great lectures, see friends, I’m very pleased.”

Priscilla Ditchfield, board member of the Friends of the Marion COA said, “In the beginning Joanne did everything, arranged everything, got the speakers.” Now with the assistance of the Marion COA staff, all the programs are running smoothly and growing.

Marion’s new COA Director Heather Sylvia added to the conversation saying, “The main focus for me is to get our own center. We share this building and that’s great, but as programs continue to expand, we’ll outgrow the Music Hall.” She said that another new program that will be taking place in the antique building is the Memory Café.

“It will be a nonjudgmental program. People who are still high functioning but dealing with dementia can come here,” Sylvia said. She continued, “Caregivers can get a break as well as resource materials to help them and their loved one. There’ll be games, speakers, outings, and education.” She said that people dealing with cognitive issues find some programs too overwhelming, so the need was there for a something geared towards this specific group of senior citizens.

After presenting Mahoney with a huge bouquet of flowers and a rousing round of applause in appreciation of all she had done for the seniors in the community, everyone tucked into a delicious buffet luncheon followed by a live musical performance.

For more information on Marion Council on Aging programs, visit www.marionma.gov or call 508-748-3570.

By Marilou Newell