THE MARVELOUS LIFE OF JO ANNE TROXEL

Do you know a senior who should be featured in a future edition of Prime? Email your suggestions to Hannah Stiff at hstiff@dailychronicle.com. A note from the editor

The marvelous life of Jo Anne Troxel ................................................2

Old Guy Noises .........................................................................................4

Yoga for Healthy Aging .........................................................................5

That Gadget on my Wrist ......................................................................6

Favorite Houseplants ..........................................................................7

Look for Changes in Retirement Plans ..............................................8

Senior Citizen Center Calendars .........................................................9

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THE MARVELOUS LIFE OF JO ANNE TROXEL A HOMETOWN STORY WITH A COMMUNIST BACKGROUND By Hannah Stiff

Pluck a day, any day, from the calendar, and Jo Anne Salisbury Troxel is having a marvelous time. On a recent winter morning, Troxel has a friend stop by her Bozeman home to talk about the book she’s just written, Waiting for the Revolution: A Montana Memoir.

The book chronicles the lives of Troxel’s parents, and a little-knownpiece of Montana history, in which Montanans experienced their own rise and fall of communism. This specific bit of history unfolds in the remote Eastern Montana town of Plentywood in the 1920s and 30s, when Troxel’s father, the town’s communist sheriff, and her idealist mother, navigate a tumultuous affair and hard scrabble existence. The book weaves family history, politics, love and loss together in an enrapturing tale.

“It’s a little piece of history we don’t know much about,” Troxel says. For those interested in Troxel’s latest work, she will be reading it at the Country Bookshelf on Febru

ary 12. Troxel also pens poems. As the 86-year-old longtime Bozeman resident says, she is, “in the writing phase” of her life. The phase includes frequent detours, to include friends stopping by for a visit (and to reminisce about a birthday party with far too much undrunk good champagne), other friends and new acquaintances stopping by to look at Troxel’s impressive art collection (“Being a docent in your own house can be exhausting,” she says), and yet more friends stopping by to talk about the state of the world.

In an earlier stage of life, her 20s, Troxel was bartending in the railroad town of Townsend to save money to pay for her college degree when she unexpectedly started her own love story.

“The railroad crew came in that summer and women bartenders were wanted because it meant less fights,” Troxel says. “And then I met this man, Vern Troxel, who had a sawmill there. He was a reader, he liked ballet, and poetry. He defied everything you think a logger is.”

The two fell in love, married in 1960, and moved to Bozeman. Vern sold his share of the sawmill and Troxel quickly enrolled at Montana State College to finish her English degree. Upon graduation, Troxel was offered a job teaching in White Sulphur Springs. After a few years in the tiny town, the couple found a way back to Bozeman and rented the basement of the historic Lamme Street home Troxel owns today.

It was in Bozeman, that second time around, that the next major phase of Troxel’s life unfolded. She was hired at Bozeman High School to teach English.

“I was really, really lucky to get hired here,” Troxel says. “They had so many applications for every job here. There were other places you could easily get a job, but in Bozeman in was harder; it’s a skiing town.”

A few years into her teaching career, Troxel gave birth to her daughter, Allison. When Allison was a baby, Troxel was working her way through a master’s degree at Montana State University. After she earned her master’s, Troxel returned to Bozeman High to instill a love of reading and help her students improve their writing skills. “I can say sitting here today, the kids were great,” Troxel says. “They liked it best when I read aloud to them. I might read to them for only five minutes each class. Then we’d discuss it. In the years since I was a teacher, I’ve had students come up to me and reference the stories I read.”

Watching her students grow from timid to trusting writers thrilled Troxel.

“What writers they could be with practice, when they kept at it,” Troxel says. “I just think writing and literature are the best for human experience. What else humanizes us like writing and reading?”

Troxel said she didn’t realize it at the time, but she was considered the hardest English teacher in the school. Even still, her classes grew each year. And each year, she continued to love her work. She realized, at age 57, it was time for a new chapter.

“I had to take some of my own advice,” she explains. “Have an adventure in your life. Don’t settle for the safe, the safe can be a real sinkhole for you. So, I retired.”

And adventure she did! Troxel traveled the world, falling in love with plays and art galleries in London, croissants in France, underground cities in Cappadocia, handcrafts and colors in Morocco, cuisine in southeast Asia, and at home in Montana, camping trips.

It’s her mind that does most of the traveling and adventuring now. Between penning books, lively conversations with friends, political activism, book club attendance, and engagement with local nonprofits, Troxel has no shortage of both fun and adventure. “I probably need a few more dull moments,” she says with a laugh.

With a newly launched book, a full social calendar, and more thoughts that need to find a blank page, Troxel may have to wait awhile to find those dull moments.

OLD GUY NOISES By Jim Drummond

My retired fr iends tell me that old guys need to pay special attention to their health and repor t any changes. At the old guy water hole, I mentioned to the g roup that I had developed a strange r umbling noise in one ear. T he noise is similar to a tr uck eng ine r unning in the distance. T hey all gave me a sympathetic smile. One of the g roup members said I probably just have tinnitus, some kind of inner ear malady that develops with age. Another commented that tinnitus is annoying but not serious to overall health. Somebody else said to consider myself for tunate because hearing is usually the second old guy thing that deter iorates, not the first.

Most of our old guy group acknowledged that they each have a bit of tinnitus. One said his sounds like the buzzing of a florescent light. Another commented that his tinnitus is much like a telephone ringing. A third old guy says that his tinnitus often sounds like a cat fight. We agreed that it is sad to retire then have our ears replicate the normal workplace noises that we left behind.

Then there are the noises that younger people make when interacting with old guys. When I go to a store and use a debit card reader, I usually put the card in early, or fail to take it out when prompted, or don’t press “OK” fast enough. A young clerk usually makes a sighing noise, something like “Ooohhhyeah,” with the “Yeah” falling off in tone. Shortly after the card reader takes the payment the young clerk says, “Have a good one.” I assume that is an alternative expression of, “Thank you for your business.” If I respond, “No problem,” or “No worries,” I get eye contact from the young clerk. Realistically, most old guys who are happy just to wake up each morning shouldn’t be saying “No worries.”

It is also clear that store clerks address old guys differently than young guys. Young female clerks in convenience stores often address me as “hun”, “honey”, “sweetie”, or “dear”. One day at the conve

nience store the young woman said, “Good morning, sweetie.”

So I responded, “Hello, honey.” She made that sighing noise, “Ooohhhyeah,” and rolled her eyes.

I surmise that old guys aren’t supposed to act that familiar with young women at the convenience store. Another noise that old guys often hear is a panicked sounding whooping noise, similar to “Aaeeyyyyy!!” Any newly retired guy, who is also

married, finds that more time is spent with a spouse. Often that time is spent driving somewhere simply because more time is available to drive somewhere. The spouse expects to go along for the ride, especially if the end point has food or drink.

With increased driving time, the spouse has more opportunity to provide driving advice along the way. The advice isn’t necessarily correct or timely. Recently we were driving down a busy street and encountered construction barricades. My spouse offered the advice, “Just go left.” I, of course, assumed she meant go around the left side of the barricade. “Aaeeyyyy,” she shouted.

I stomped on the brakes and said, “You said to go left.”

She vaguely pointed to a distant road on the left and said, “I meant that left.”

Then she changed the subject. A short while later we drove up a different street and again, “Aaeeyyyy.” I slammed on the brakes. “What,” I shouted as I looked for a cat in the road or a child chasing a soccer ball between parked cars. “The truck a block ahead almost hit that other car,” she responded while squinting distantly up the street. “Ah, good thing I was able to stomp the brakes and avoid a near collision,” I responded.

That said, it is probably a good thing for an old guy to have some additional support while driving. A few old fellows at the water hole rely on a GPS, but frankly, a GPS can’t enunciate “Aeeeyyy” to provide an appropriate sense of urgency to follow navigational instructions.

“Aeeyyy,”and “Ooohhhyeah,” and an ear-tone of engines rumbling or cats fighting are just some of the new noises that old guys experience, and a few more pebbles in the shoe of life’s aging process.

Jim Drummond is a new contributor to the Prime section. Look for more of his witty repartee in upcoming editions of Prime.