I spent the weekend in St. Petersburg, FL, where my husband competed in the “Hurricane Man,” a 2.4 mile swim competition in the Gulf of Mexico. They really need to rename it “Hurricane Man and Woman.”

Myrna (left) and Sharon, swimming "sisters"

FOFs Sharon Steinmann and Myrna Haag, both from the St. Pete area, finished the race neck-and-neck in a spectacular 57 minutes. Debbie Kelsey, from Bethesda, MD, finished in one hour, 19 minutes.

Sharon will be 52 tomorrow and Myrna is 51. Sharon, a clothing designer who works with fabrics from Bali,  has been swimming since she was 9. She swam with the University of Florida Gators and this is the sixth time she’s competed in “Hurricane Man.” Her husband of four years, Kurt, told me: “You’d have to be under 30 to beat these girls.”

Myrna is a lifestyle fitness coach who has spent 21 years working with women in homeless shelters to get them in shape, emotionally and physically.  She also became a nationally ranked triathlete in her late forties. This was Myrna’s first “Hurricane Man” race. “Sharon talked me into it,” she said.

Myrna was so passionate to pass on the knowledge she’s gathered over decades about balanced eating, she has self-published a book call “Never Diet Again.” It is a fascinating examination of how carbs, proteins and fats interact with each other in our body. Once we understand the way it all works, we can choose the best combos of foods to eat.

“I see all this obesity and it makes me sad,” Myrna said. “You can’t rewire your brain until your body is on board.”

This was Debbie’s third “Hurricane Man” race.  She is 61 and teaches at a Montessori school.

These FOF women are inspirations.  David didn’t do so badly, either. He finished in one hour, 16 minutes. Not as good as the Myrna or Sharon, but he’s 65–and a man.

I wonder if my grandmothers were ever introspective, especially about aging. Neither Rose nor Fanny seemed to have a desire to analyze much of anything, certainly not herself.

Grandma Fanny spent her life cooking, cleaning and preparing scrumptious and insanely unhealthy meals. She had a lousy marriage, a single daughter who had few friends and lived with her, one severely depressed son and another (my dad) who wasn’t a bundle of happiness, either. Despite these unfortunate circumstances, Fanny always seemed content with her life. She didn’t stop cooking until the day she entered a nursing home with Alzheimer’s at 84. As long as everyone was well fed, she was happy. Maybe that’s what kept her sane.

Grandma Rosie called me every Saturday night to see if I had a "date" (this photo isn't really Rosie, though)

Grandma Rosie was Fanny’s polar opposite. Cooking wasn’t her strong suit, but she was a pro at socializing, working hard, and minding everyone else’s business. Rose would call me on Saturday nights to see if I had a date when I was in my mid-teens. She’d schlep me all over Hartford, CT., to meet her friends, cousins, sisters-in-law and cousins when I’d visit her. She played Gin Rummy like a card shark, bought and returned clothes with zeal and tried to motivate my grandfather to be more driven. She owned a candy store, worked behind a bakery counter and strived her whole life. She didn’t stop moving and looking beautiful, even when she had a stroke and was in a wheelchair. She died at 95. If she had wisdom to share about the sum total of her life, you wouldn’t know it.

Happy Mother’s Day, Grandmas Rose and Fanny.  I wish you were here today so I could ask you each a million questions. I know how much you loved me. I loved you, too.  You are both in my blood and I’m proud of it.

Your FOF Granddaughter, Geri

All You Need Is Love

I heard someone on NPR (National Public Radio) say: “Life’s project is finding, getting and giving love.” Isn’t that the truth? What do we have if we don’t have people we love…who love us back?

A Cool Cool Couple

Patricia Murray Wood, 90, married Edward Noonan Ney, 85, last week in Palm Beach. FOF Patricia is fascinating for more than the the fact she married at 90. Patricia’s paternal grandfather was an inventor and electrical engineer who worked with Thomas Edison. Her family also helped make Southampton, NY, a summer resort (a pretty fancy one, at that) and her first husband was Sidney Wood, a tennis champion

The marriage announcement said she will take her husband’s name. So interesting.

Wake-Up Call

One of the fashion magazines is now including fashion tips for women in their 70s in a monthly feature. Hmm. Do you suppose the editors have been following  FOF and realized fab women exist OF?

You Can Say That Again

An FOF in her 80s told the owner of San Francisco, a Manhattan apparel shop: “I’m dressing younger every year.” She didn’t mean she’s wearing skirts 10 inches above her knees or jeans that expose her navel. She meant she’s hip to the same looks that her daughters are wearing. Bravo!

Living Down an Image: Following is one of the lines from “Love, Loss and What I Wore”, a play by Nora and Delia Ephron: “You know a woman has really given up when she buys Eileen Fisher clothing.” I guess the Ephrons weren’t aware that Eileen now fancies herself a designer for  hip, young things.

Yeardley Love

Sharon Donnelly’s daughter, Yeardley, was a senior at the University of Virginia, one of the finest schools in the country. She was beautiful, had a marvelous reputation and was a member of the lacrosse team.

Now Sharon’s daughter is dead, killed by a player on the UVA men’s lacrosse team. The two had been in a relationship and broken up. Instead of going to Virginia for Yeardley’s graduation, Sharon is in Virginia to talk to investigators and the police.

It hurts my heart when I try to grasp the hell she is living. Just the thought of losing a child is frightening; actually losing one is  incomprehensible.

Sharon’s life is “over.” Her daughter’s life is over. And the young man’s life is over, whether or not he goes to jail. No matter how much we try to continue “living” after such a tragedy, our life has been altered forever.

We want to protect our children, even when they become adults. We worry when they fly, when they’re not feeling well, when we haven’t heard from them for a while. We know we’re being nonsensical.

If their lives were snuffed out–by anyone– how could we ever make sense of it?