"Reinventing Yourself in Your Retirement Years"
My blog, "Reinventing Yourself in Your Retirement Years" is at: LeeGaleGruen.wordpress.com. My blog's goal is to help retirees, those soon to retire, baby boomers, and seniors find joy, excitement, and purpose in their lives after they retire whether from a job, profession, parenting, etc. That starts with finding a passion as a motivation to get out of bed, get dressed, get out of the house, and embrace life. My blog posts are reprinted here without the accompanying "Photos," "News," and "Chitchat" included in the original blog. Click on the "Follow" button at the above link to be notified of new blog posts.
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Please forward my blog in its entirety to anyone who might be interested and post it on your Facebook, Twitter and other social media. To reprint any material, contact me for permission at: [email protected].
The Controversy of Abortion (11-25-24)
Being pregnant and birthing a child is a beautiful experience; I’ve done so twice. My children are precious to me. After five years of putting ourselves through college and establishing stable jobs and a home setting, my husband and I decided we were ready to welcome and provide for an expanded family.
Not long ago, someone emailed me a series of articles by conservative scholars about abortion. One opening paragraph talked about the guilt a woman would feel after an abortion. I didn’t even have to read them to the end to know that my own personal view would be the opposite. I try not to use this forum for extremely controversial matters. However, in this case, I felt that I should weigh in. Feel free to disagree with me–I still respect you, and I hope you still respect me. This was my response to the aforementioned email:
Well, I read the headlines and teasers. They’re all aimed at anti-abortion stances. I don’t even need to read the articles through to know that they will contain some intellectual treatise by their lofty writers culminating in ‘abortion is wrong–don’t have one.'”
My feelings about it: It’s how you present the unborn zygote. If you choose to insist that it is a human being and teach that to your children, of course they will feel guilty about having an abortion. If you teach them that said few cells only have some rudimentary human qualities and do not constitute a child until much later in the pregnancy, then the teenage girl, the rape/incest victim, the young professional with her dreams yet to be fulfilled, the impoverished mother with too many mouths to feed already, etc. whose lives will be excessively stressed or even destroyed by bearing an unwanted child will not feel guilty about terminating her pregnancy. It’s all in how you package the message.
I would never want to be forced to remain pregnant if my timetable were not right for me to have a child, and that time is one only I have the right decide. I would not hesitate to encourage my immature, teenage granddaughters to get an abortion if they became pregnant. Having a child at their ages would ruin their futures and their lives in general.
We are a world bursting at the seams with approximately eight billion humans and counting. We can’t even take care of those. There are factions not only against abortion but also against birth control. Aren’t birth control and abortion better options than letting thousands perish through poverty, wars, climate change, and on and on?
Must we forever stick our heads in the sand rather than face reality by allowing some (mostly old men) to implement actions that control women’s bodies? I suspect it is a power position for them and has long since left the realm of morality.
Any pregnant person who chooses to have an abortion, regardless of her reasons, should be supported and not castigated or made to feel guilty. Any pregnant person who chooses not to have an abortion, regardless of her reasons, should also be supported and respected.
Abortion is not murder! Abortion is a woman’s choice to live her life as she sees fit. Just as people should not make decisions about men having vasectomies, so should they not make decisions about women having abortions.
Beating Yourself Up (11-11-24)
Are you the simultaneous perpetrator and victim of beating yourself up? I know I certainly am. When I act and subsequently deem that act to have be wrong, I can really get down on myself. I ruminate, fixate, contemplate, and all the other “ates” you can think of. I spend hours running it over and over in my head. Getting upset with yourself can spoil your whole day.
There are people who get so angry with themselves that they become depressed and non-functional. Their self-hatred becomes the center of their universe. It renders them impotent in any future endeavors and ends up to be a self-defeating cycle. This, of course, can lead to serious mental health issues. Their trajectory probably started with something like:
“I didn’t pass the test, so I’m a failure.”
“I didn’t get the job, so I’m a loser.”
“I didn’t get invited to the (fill in the blank), so I’m a nobody.”
So many of us hold ourselves to far higher standards then we do of others. We can be understanding, sympathetic, and empathetic when someone else flubs things. However, with ourselves, not so much. Why is that? Why do we demand such self-perfection and have so little tolerance when we are imperfect–human?
Like so many traits about us, of course, it most likely harks back to childhood. Were our parents high achievers and demanded the same from us? Did our teachers push for it? Did we get more accolades, rewards, or goodies when we won the competition? Where we encouraged to seek a gold star on our homework…two gold stars, 10 Gold stars, yada, yada, yada? Were we disparaged when we didn’t meet someone else’s expectations?
Those coveted, paper gold stars that our teacher glued onto our tests seem silly now. However, their meaning has stayed with us, and we have carried its essence into adulthood, namely: success at any cost is the only thing that matters.
Is it possible to break the hold of gold stars and cut ourselves some slack? I’m not advocating doing less than your best. After all, what kind of a society would we have if everyone were slackers? However, maybe we can accept that we too are imperfect and make mistakes from time to time. Maybe we can stop beating ourselves up so severely when we err. Do we get to be forgiven like everyone else?
I Can't Hear You (10-29-24)
Many people find their hearing ability decreasing as they age. Others have had hearing challenges since childhood or developed them along the way from other causes such as repetitive exposure to loud noise, injury, and the like.
When the volume is louder–whether it be human speech, environmental sounds, or artificial sounds–it is easier to understand if your hearing is not too sharp. Conversely, when the volume is lower, it can pose a problem for the aforementioned population. If you are among that group, what can you do?
You might position yourself nearer to the source of the sound such as sitting close to the speaker in a room or not too far from the stage in a theater or auditorium. If the sound is artificially generated through an audio device, you can increase the volume to your comfort level. If that disturbs others in a group situation, you might consider wearing ear buds or headphones. If you are seriously hearing impaired, it might be time to investigate the use of hearing aids.
Sometimes, no matter what you do, you might find yourself in a situation where you can’t hear the content. I was cast in a play a few years ago. The actors were all rehearsing on the stage, and the director sat in the seating section so he could take in the sound and action like an audience member would. When he wanted to correct our performance, he would say, “Okay, stop,” and he’d speak to us. The problem was that the director himself had a very low voice, and I was having trouble hearing him. I missed much of his direction and was at a disadvantage by not getting his input.
When I could, I positioned myself closer to him so that I could hear, but that wasn’t possible every time. I eventually said to him, “Would you mind walking closer to us when you speak as it is hard to hear you?“ “Oh, I’ll just raise my voice“ was his response. Indeed, he did increase his volume for the next few sentences. But, he soon defaulted back to his normal, soft speaking voice. This happened on a few other occasions throughout the rehearsals until I just gave up and didn’t say anything further about it.
The sense of hearing is very important to humans and other animals. Second only to vision, sound helps orient us in space–helps us to understand what is happening so we can act accordingly. Without it, we are handicapped, and the quality of our life suffers.
Do your best to receive as much usable information as possible through your ears. Don’t expect others to change their style. We must be the ones to change ourselves to make sounds work for us.
Obstacle Course (10-14-24)
A beautiful mallard was alone in a creek as I strolled over a short bridge which spanned it. He (and it was a he as evidenced by his magnificent coloring–shame about nature’s discrimination against the female of so many species, color-wise at least) was gently floating with the current.
Every so often, the whole bucolic scene was interrupted by a sandbar. Mr. Mallard simply waddled across that tiny spit of land interrupting his tranquil sail and resumed paddling where the stream picked up on the other side. He didn’t stop to think about it. It was done smoothly without missing a beat as part of a continuous journey.
Can we be like a mallard? When we are peacefully swimming along with life and come upon an obstacle, can we simply waddle over it and resume where we left off? As most of us know, that’s harder than it sounds.
We humans store long-term memory which affects our present–our being in the now. It doesn’t matter that such experiences survive only in our minds and no longer exist. We revisit them repeatedly, often accompanied by much anxiety about the matter. If we are so bothered, why do we drag those thoughts along through the stream as we paddle and haul them up over barriers and down the back end before resuming our excursion?
We have euphemistically named our mental burdens “baggage,” because they weigh us down as we try to move forward. We might as well pack up our ruminations and carry them with us in a backpack, always attached, growing heavier through the years, and easily accessible to thwart us whenever we try to progress.
Have you ever thought about leaving that carryall behind in your waddling stage and jumping back into the stream with a lightened load? That’s right, just let that weighty rucksack slip off of your shoulders, to be abandoned on the sandbar. That would be a mental housecleaning exercise worthy of your time and energy. Then, like Mr. M., you can paddle on down your own personal stream with a bit less angst replaced by a bit more joy.
Styles of Dying (9-30-24)
On their way out of life, people behave in a variety of ways. Yes, I’m talking about styles of dying. Some become cranky, selfish, and impatient. They expect all around them to fulfill their every wish.
This approach puts tremendous stress on their loved ones such as children, spouse, siblings, etc. The soon-to-be deceased expects to be catered to constantly, having no thought of the needs and responsibilities of those significant others.
Conversely, there are those who have a dying style just the opposite. They grin and bear it, never complain, and try very hard not to burden those closest to them as they make their way to their final days. Of course, there are numerous styles in between.
I’ve known folks at both extremes. The constant complainers made me weary. I felt anxious when I was planning to call or visit them. Doing so became a chore no matter how close they were to me. The never-complainers were much easier to be with and seemed the preferred choice. However, they robbed me of sharing the sadness, fear, and anxiety we both felt when we contemplated their death. Maybe somewhere in between the extremes would work best for everyone involved.
What style are you going to adopt when it’s your time? The hold-it-all-in approach may cheat you and your friends and family members of a final opportunity for bonding. Conversely, even though you may be in great discomfort, distress, or pain, you can still make a choice as to whether or not you are going to dump it on others. Constant complaining and being demanding does not change your journey. It simply makes everyone around you miserable and maybe secretly wishing you’d pick up the pace.
I recently read an article about a study which found that thinking and caring about others rather than just focusing on yourself makes you happier and more content. So, for the stoics, give others the gift of saying goodbye to you. Conversely, even if it’s only for a selfish reason, stop being a constant pain in the ass if only because it’s to your benefit. Another bonus is that those close to you will remember you fondly rather than negatively after you are gone.
Dealing with a Narcissist (9-15-24)
Narcissism (it’s-all-about-me) is a behavior found in some people. The narcissist will seek out interactions or relationships where they can ply their magnetic personality traits. Narcissus was a Greek mythological character of great beauty who, after seeing his own reflection in a pool of water, fell in love with himself.
It’s hard to feel much self-worth when with a narcissist. All attention must be paid to him/her. They are a bottomless pit–never satisfied. If their friends or significant others shine in some way, they see it as stealing their own limelight, and they will use subtle tactics to divert the attention back to themselves. Should the other person try to hold their ground, an argument might ensue. After all, now the unspoken rules of engagement are being changed, and you are threatening their well-honed method of dealing with their own insecurity. Said narcissist doesn’t like that; it’s not what he/she signed up for.
Do you have a relationship with a narcissist? Does it make you feel like the life is being sucked out of you? Do you not get your share of the attention pie? Are you sick of it, yet?
There are a variety of methods you can use if you find yourself at the losing end of such an interaction. As with other types of dissatisfying or harmful relationships I’ve written about in this blog over the years, many of the techniques for dealing a narcissist are similar: You can refuse to engage. You can confront and insist on your turn. You can exit the staging area. You can end the relationship. As may seem obvious, these methods fall on a scale of less to more drastic. With each, there may be consequences to you, too, so weigh your actions carefully.
You might hone your approach in advance. Maybe journaling about it and writing a list of possible responses will help you grab and use one when needed.
Living with a narcissist or even just being in their company for a while can be draining. There’s an old joke attributed to the movie “Beaches” that pretty well unpacks it: During a conversation, a narcissist finally yields the discussion to someone else with the line: “But enough about me, let’s talk about you…. what do you think of me?”
Don’t expect the narcissist to change. Such behavior is too embedded into their personality. You must pry your own self out of that unbalanced situation. Use the aforementioned techniques and/or develop some of your own.
Sink or Swim (9-2-24)
There are certain personality types who want to control those in their sphere. It seems to feed something in their nature that relishes being on top of the heap in the great power trip competition. How they got that way is a matter of conjecture.
Were they under the thumb of someone similar as they were growing up and being shaped into their adulthood form, and they are just imitating their mentor? Are they sociopaths who were “born that way”? Whatever the reason, if you are the victim of such a person, you know that they will use any means possible to control you. It might be someone in your life like a boss, a teacher, or significant others including spouses, parents, children, siblings, etc. So, if you’re unhappy with the situation, how do you escape?
It’s pretty hard if you are dependent on them in some significant way such as financially or emotionally. If they are the power person in your life and control such strings, they can pull them whenever they are displeased with your behavior. Examples include an employer who subtly or not so subtly threatens to fire you and take away your livelihood; a spouse who vows to cut off your relationship with your children if you try to leave him/her; a parent who swears they are going to cut you out of their will; and on and on.
So, how do you save yourself from drowning in the cesspool your life has become? First, you must assess how badly you despise your situation. If you have decided you want out no matter what the cost, you must aim toward that goal; you must craft a plan of action and set about to carry it out.
In some cases, this may take years to accomplish. Nevertheless, if you keep working toward your endgame, you will chip away to an eventual outcome that is acceptable. Examples might be: if you are married and dependent on your spouse for financial support, you will have to develop your own source of income. This may mean pursuing more education so you can find a good paying job. If you risk being cut out of your parents’ will, you might have to change your mindset to accept living a life without the largesse you thought would be coming.
It all depends on how important escaping the crushing subjugation is to you versus what you may have to sacrifice to ameliorate it. Here’s a mantra I’ve offered in a previous blog to help you on your way if you choose to proceed: Never need or want anything he/she has the power to give or withhold. Good luck!
Negative Traits (8-18-24)
Everyone has some off-putting habits. They may giggle inappropriately, snort from time to time, grimace strangely, scratch frequently, shake their leg when sitting, and on and on. But, what about weightier traits such as irritability, intolerance, racism, and the like? What do we do if someone we know, and especially someone close to us, has such characteristics? How do we continue to associate with them if said features go against our own grain?
One way is to try to understand their motivation. Perhaps they are emulating an influential person in their life: parent, teacher, mentor, etc. Maybe he/she has been the victim of those actions from others. It’s strange and seems counterintuitive, but when someone experiences negative behavior directed toward them, they might go on to adopt it, too. An example is the child who is the victim of parental abuse, physical and/or psychological, and grows up to abuse their own children. Remember that old trope about the man who kicks his wife who kicks their child who kicks the dog? Hmmm, I wonder who the dog kicks–the mailman? Then, I guess, the mailman goes home and kicks his wife who kicks their child who…
I have some friends with attributes I don’t care for. However, if I rejected everyone in that category, I’d have no friends at all. We have to assess whether the good traits outweigh the bad, and just how bad are the bad.
If the behavior is something that the person can’t control such as facial tics, you’ll just have to change yourself and accept it rather than being irked each time. If it’s something they can control such as frequent testiness, you might say something like: “Oh, I see you’re in one of your moods again. I’ll just call you another time when you’re feeling more upbeat.” Such a statement conveys your acknowledgment of their current sullen temperament and your own position about being subjected to it yet again. Of course, this approach can be extrapolated to anyone’s undesirable acts that come your way. If the doer fails to alter such comportment in the future, then you have a decision to make about whether to continue the relationship.
Our own not-so-wonderful peculiarities pose another consideration. Yes, we must admit that we have them, too. We may call others quirky, but they might think that description applies to us.
Are there those in your life who love and accept you anyway, regardless of your unattractive side? Can we all be that big? Yes, I think we can with a little effort.
Complainers Vs. Stiff-Upper-Lippers (8-4-24)
The aging process causes the body to deteriorate. As we get older, we all experience it. Sometimes, it can be gradual and other times sudden. However it happens to you, there is no escaping it.
We all find ourselves with conditions or illnesses, some more debilitating than others. The question remains, how are we going to handle these changes while trying to lead a satisfying life.
Our choices fall on a continuum. At one end, we have the complainers and whiners, and at the other end are the stiff-upper-lippers. Of course, there are countless styles in between. Each offers its advantages and disadvantages. The complainers and whiners get to dump their feelings onto others, achieving a certain cleansed feeling. However, the flipside is that such behavior eventually alienates most folks who then start drifting away. The stiff-upper-lippers never get a chance to vent their pain and sorrow, yet they are able to maintain their pride and are respected for their fortitude by most they encounter.
The idea of, “Keep a stiff upper lip” dates back to ancient Greece, but it has been honed by the British in modern times. It refers to a person who does not show their feelings when upset. My own style tends towards stiff-upper-lippedness. That seems to work best for me. However, not everyone agrees.
I recently had an experience where I posted on a social media group dealing with a particular medical condition I’ve developed. I suggested that folks ought not to complain so much about their health and instead change their attitude and try to find other interests. Well, that didn’t sit at all well with one member. She posted a scathing response which included inviting me to stop participating in that group, although she was not the website administrator. Nope, I wasn’t going to rob her of her whining rights.
Okay, my outlook is not everyone’s cup of tea (another wink at the British), but it is my philosophy of how to live a fulfilling life. After all, that’s what most of us are striving for, isn’t it?
What I’m advocating here is: do not define your life by your illness. Try to find activities or better yet a passion that will give your life meaning. Even with your medical challenges, there are still many positive experiences to be had. Don’t die before you actually die!
Launch Yourself (7-7-24)
We all have different needs. We tend to choose our friends based on how they might satisfy those requirements. It’s nearly impossible to find just one person to fit that role. So, we pick different friends who each satisfy one/some of our needs.
If you have a dearth in some area, you may look to fill it from another who has traits that you are lacking. For example: you might be attracted to an extrovert to contrast with your introverted personality. Or, you might find a calm type which fits well with your own hyper nature.
Conversely, you may seek out others with similarities to you. Maybe you pick someone who likes the same type of movies or theatrical performances as you do. Another may enjoy going on hikes or participating in sporting events that you relish. A third may be a good listener and available when you need to talk something out.
We all select our friends and even our significant others based on internal, subconscious criteria that is meaningful to us. Conversely, we are chosen by them for the same reason. Usually, folks don't analyze why they gravitate to a particular person. It's mostly done on the basis of gut reaction; you just feel it.
Think about your close friends and what needs they satisfy for you. Are they still doing it, or have your friendships just become a habit. There is nothing wrong with most habits–harmful, addictive behaviors aside–but many times they lead to our own stagnation. As we all know, habits are difficult to break. They are a known quantity and provide a level of comfort, but the downside is that they have a penchant for preventing us from developing.
Don't make your time on earth a life-by-habit. Keep your old friends and routines, but find room to explore fresh ones. Seek out new people; cultivate different pastimes; explore untried activities.
If time constraints are an issue, you may have to modify or even cut back on the old to make way for the new. Try to sprinkle a dash of each in your recipe for a fulfilling life. A combination of the comfortable and the uncharted are what bring stability and richness to our journey. Keep your feet on the ground, but take off in a rocket to outer space from time to time. If Captain Kirk can do it, so can you.
A Timely Retort (6-23-24)
Have you ever gotten into an unexpected confrontation with a stranger? I'm sure it’s happened to all of us. In human society with so many of us in such close proximity, we can’t help bumping up against each other. From time to time, that congested interaction creates irritation and misunderstandings. Verbal barbs or even physical jabs might be exchanged.
Recently, I was standing in a long line at a supermarket checkout stand. Finally, it was my turn. As the cashier was ringing up my order, I saw that she had made a significant error to my detriment (hint: avocados were involved). I asked for clarification which required summoning her manager. Needless to say, other people in line were becoming testy.
As the manager was correcting the error, I was asking questions so I could understand it all. The man just behind me--a big, burly baritone--decided to join in with his opinion on the whole matter, branding me as the bad guy for making his wait longer. That only added to my nervousness, hobbling my attempt to figure out the confusing bill.
I invited the interloper to go to a different cashier if he weren’t happy. Well, that set him off. After a few back-and-forths, he capped it off with, "You have the manners of a 10-year-old child!" Years ago in such a situation, I would have meekly withdrawn, beating myself up later with, "I should have said." However, this time, I managed to keep my wits about me, calmly turned to him, and replied, "That’s funny, I was just thinking that you have the manners of a five-year-old child." My antagonist beat a hasty retreat to another cashier, muttering under his breath while shooting eye daggers at me.
Well, of course, I was high for the rest of the day and into the next on that little victory. I had managed to hold my own and do so in a timely manner, even under the pressure of impatient people staring at our drama and probably blaming me for making them late to their next engagement. I did, however, spy a few tiny smiles and stares of admiration in my direction.
It’s not easy to stand up for yourself and handle a difficult situation at the same time. However, it is so gratifying to do so. I have reached a point in my life where I no longer care to be intimidated by others, especially those who are physically bigger and have a stronger voice than I have. No, the one who yells loudest does not get to be the winner by default.
Coping with Cell Phone Addicts (6-9-24)
My last blog dealt with people who are too often obsessed with what is coming next rather than dealing with what is happening at the moment. That includes frequently checking their cell phones. A reader suggested I opine on the subject–from the point of view of the “others”–regarding the situation where one party in a group spends significant time interacting with their cell phone rather than engaging with those others. How does it feel? What can one do about it?
Unfortunately, I don’t hold out much hope for any possible solutions. When somebody frequently takes to their cell phone even while they are in the company of other people, I would call the former a cell phone addict. Your first clue that you are dealing with such a person is that their cell phone is always present.
One of the worst offenders I have encountered was when I got together in a restaurant with someone I had never met before. The first thing he did was take out his cell phone and lay it on the table next to his plate. When I gently objected, he refused to remedy the situation, and the c/p remained there the whole time. Of course, he answered it when it rang and gave the caller the attention I thought should have been paid to me.
As with any addiction, it’s hard to break, even when the perpetrator desires to do so. When such an endeavor is contemplated only at the behest of another, the addict is even less inclined to put forth the effort needed to kick the habit. Therefore, I can only offer a few coping mechanisms that you “others” can try:
I’ve attempted all of my aforementioned suggestions and have usually been unsuccessful when dealing cell phone addicts. I’ve had to accept the fact that I simply can’t compete with the fascination of their cell phone. So, you might want to try the method I have found most satisfactory in preserving my self-esteem. I have stopped getting together with cell phone addicts, even close friends. It works for me. Maybe it will work for you.
What's Coming Next? (5-27-24)
Have you ever known someone who is always talking about what’s coming next instead of what’s occurring at that moment? You often catch them looking away rather than engaging in the current business. Maybe you, yourself, are like that.
Such a person simply can’t enjoy the present when their mind is focused exclusively on the future, near and far. What’s coming the next hour, next day, next week, next month, next…
You can always tell the afflicted ones. Their attention is frequently wandering. They are all too quick to grab that cell phone to deal with something else. They may consult their watch a bit too often. Whatever is coming up on their dance card seems so much more compelling than what’s taking place now.
Of course, when that next event arrives, they don’t allow themselves to experience it in full. No, they are too focused on what’s coming next. Hence, the next never arrives, and they never fully enjoy anything.
Are you content with such behavior? Do you wish you could give up that constant need to live in the future? Do you have any idea why you or someone you know behaves that way?
I suspect it’s a matter of control. The future is unknown, often scary, and can bring unpleasant and even frightening happenings. If one can control the future as much as possible, maybe those negative outcomes can be avoided or at least minimized. That certainly sounds like a good approach. The problem occurs when such action is carried to the extreme so as to cut off full participation in current experiences.
The next question becomes how to curtail such behavior. If you’re a mature adult, it won’t be easy. You’ve probably been coping with life in that way for decades now. Giving up such a mechanism will require a major change of your personality. Even with professional help, it can only be accomplished if you want it very much. Then, you will you be motivated enough to stop yourself when you fall back into your old habits, accept that it is a one-step forward/one-step back process, and keep at it until you slowly start seeing results.
Good luck on your progress!
Standing Out vs. Blending In (5-9-24)
Are you a standing out or a blending in kind of gal/guy? These two types of personalities are found near opposite ends of a continuum, and all people fit in somewhere along that line. The extremes are akin to extrovert versus introvert, but not quite to the extent that those labels bring to mind.
A standing out person might be more chatty, exuberant, flashy, etc. A blending in person might be more introspective, subtle, reserved, and the like. One is not better than the other, necessarily. They both have their pros and cons.
Personality types are evident in very young children. It seems to be something that one is born with. Then, a little environmental influence along the maturation process is added to the basic recipe, and the whole mixture molds that human to establish his/her personality. That is what usually determines where you fall on the personality scale when you finally reach adulthood.
A standing out kind of person might attract more attention to themselves, but that attention could be either positive or negative. A blending in type of person might harbor envy of the standing-outers who usually get the lion’s share of attention. Of course, standing-outers might be jealous of the blending-iners who may not get the blame as often.
Standing out can be exhausting while blending in might seem to be less taxing and energy draining. However, blending-iners might suffer more internal turmoil from the lack of recognition they think they deserve.
You probably can’t change your innate personality, but you may be able to modify it if you’re willing to put in the effort required to do so. The trick to contentment, however, is to accept your own personality type and make peace with it.
Regardless, of which personality you tend to favor, there are careers, activities, companions, and rewards available to suit your type. Seek them out and take advantage of them at your own comfort level. Trial and error will help you find your particular niche.
I Can Give You Five Minutes (4-29-24)
I used to have a casual friend who I usually encountered in a group situation. Occasionally, we spoke on the phone, most often to discuss an upcoming get-together of our mutual friends. I remember when I would call her, she was often “so busy.” Her frequent reply to my opening “Hi, how are you?” was, “Oh, hi. I can give you five minutes.”
How benevolent of her to grant me five minutes of her valuable time. However, what I got out of her generosity was that I no longer cared to call her. She was condescending, and obviously, I was rarely high enough on her list of priorities to warrant more than five minutes allotted to me.
I had a different friend who is, also, now a former friend. She started associating with another crowd, and I hadn’t talked to her for a while. One day, I was thinking about her, so I called her just to chat. After my opening “Hi, how are you?” her response after the obligatory “fine” was, “What did you call about?” What I called about was not a specific matter but just for some connection. She made me feel foolish with her confrontational question, as though it were a business matter and how she could be most efficient in hurrying it along. I think you can pretty much guess our future relationship. Neither of us called the other again.
I’m not interested in friends like that. Let the first aforementioned person give her valuable five minutes to someone else. Let the second not have my friendship. I, on the other hand, will spend my time and energy with those who appreciate me and vice versa.
Do you have such a situation in your life; maybe the same words are not used, but it’s the same idea? You know that guy/gal who always leaves you feeling a little wonky after finishing your contact with them? Something is not quite right, but you can’t figure out what it is. If so, spend a little time analyzing why that person is so off-putting. If, on the other hand, you are the off-putter, be aware of why your friends keep melting away.
There’s no need for anyone to continue batting their head against the proverbial wall. Simply walk away from involvement with people who make you feel unworthy. I know that’s not always easy. It might be someone close such as a family member or one who is part of a larger group of friends. Nevertheless, there’s no need for you to feel demeaned each time you have an interaction with them. Find others who make you feel good about yourself and are able and willing to give you more than just five minutes.
Angles (4-14-24)
Everyone has an angle. No, I’m not talking about the 90 degree type or its gradients. I mean an angle in the sense of one’s agenda. It is a selfish manipulation of a situation in order to maximize it for one’s own benefit. That is not a good thing or a bad thing. It is simply human nature–or actually animal nature. We must behave that way in order to insure our own survival.
However, some people carry it to an extreme. They go far beyond mere survival. Their “angle” is to drive as much of the communal resources toward themselves as they can, often to the detriment of the other members. That’s when an angle begins swinging from neutral toward the far end of the pendulum’s arc.
We see that a lot these days. For example, there is way too much wealth concentrated in the hands of way too few. That leaves way too many without the ability to satisfy even their basic needs.
Some will say that those unfortunate folks were simply not smart enough, not sharp enough, not swift enough, not lucky enough, not resourceful enough, not…not…not. That may be so, but are those reasons to justify why smarties, sharpies, swifties, et al should have far more than they will ever be able to use in their lifetime or their children’s lifetimes or their grandchildren’s lifetimes or…or…or? Even with spending it as fast as they can on lavish goods and projects such as vanity rocket ships, they still can’t seem to get rid of their money. The structure of their businesses and investments along with the laws and politics that accompany them add more wealth to fill any gap in their financial portfolios that their expenditures create.
These are questions that our society has grappled with historically and is currently grappling with. How long do we let this situation continue? Is it until we are not only witnessing homeless encampments on the side of our local roads, but when we are actually stepping around the impoverished as we walk down the sidewalks that abut those roads or honk impatiently at them as we are trying to pull our cars out of the driveway. How long do we wait?
Hiding in Plain Sight (4-1-24)
We are all hiding some parts of ourselves from the light of day. They are those parts we don’t want to reveal to others lest they disapprove, judge, and deem us unworthy or undesirable. Yes, everyone has those hidden aspects no matter how attractive, rich, personable, or privileged they might be.
We have learned along the way what is socially acceptable and what is not. We skillfully hide our not-so-attractive parts with a magician’s sleight-of-hand. We keep talking constantly so as to deflect our audience from potentially discovering our flaws. We toss out glib remarks to detour others from learning our secrets. We withhold personal details to keep them from gaining an upper hand.
The downside is that our hypervigilance becomes exhausting and a time suck. Juggling balls is no fun. When do we get to “let our hair down” and be our authentic self?
For some, the answer is never. However, for many others as they age, they begin to realize that these great secrets they’ve spent so much time and energy hiding are not the big deals that they always thought they were. The reality is that most people are spending their attention and efforts on their own issues to care much about yours.
What I’m suggesting is to stop hiding your imperfections. I know it’s a scary thought and a complete about face from your decades old modus operandi. But, think of the upside. Your life may become so much less stressful–worrisome. (I’ve written on this topic before. Read my blog of 6-26-18: “The Big Reveal” and my blog of 4-29-19: "Hiding.")
You don’t have to unmask everything at once. Try it in baby steps. Expose just one or a few of your vulnerabilities, and see how that goes. Then, assess the outcome. Have you become the pariah of your community or did people really not care? If you survived that first attempt, try another one. You may not need to let it all hang out, but at least start taking off some of your makeup and showing others what you really look like underneath. All you have to gain is a greater comfort level in your life.
Passing Through (3-18-24)
We are all travelers just passing through. We rail, stomp our feet, and carry on about this and that. It all seems so urgent--so important. But, one day, we will be replaced by younger railers, stompers, and carriers. They will behave like us, just with different faces.
So, what’s it all about, Alfie? Is it worth the anger, vitriol, stress, and everything else that we subject ourselves and others to? All the huffies that we drag from one decade to the next seem like a giant burden, and often the reason is minimal or forgotten completely.
As a teenager, obnoxious as most in that category, I used to argue with my father to spend more money. He was a tightwad in my mind. Truth be told, he was very frugal with his money, having lived through the depression of the 1930s and been subjected to its deprivations.
“You can’t take it with you,” I’d remind him over and over.
“Then, I’m not going,” he’d answer each time.
He may have plagarized that funny quip, but it didn’t matter. That call and response game became our private joke. We got to the point where we’d shout out his predictable reply in unison, cracking up and bonding. Nevertheless, there was a point to our back-and-forth.
What happened as my father aged is that he did loosen up. He began to realize that his life was finite, and that he wanted to find more joy in the years he had left. Although he never became extravagant in the money spending department, he wasn’t as rigid as in his earlier years.
Those in younger generations to whom I am close: children, grandchildren, etc. have similar conversations with and about me. The subject might not concern money, but it deals with matters that are generational disconnects.
The reality is that you may think you own real estate, automobiles, jewelry, and the like. Nope, you are simply temporary custodians. You are just travelers, passing through.
Travel lightly. Remember to be kind to those who come after you so they will have loving, caring conversations about you when your journey here is complete.
What's in a Name/Word? (3-4-24)
What’s in a name? pondered the Bard. Well, a lot it turns out. Names (or words) are just utterances–sounds made by air in our lungs forced out through our vocal cords which then vibrate to create them. However, we imbue names/words with great power or the lack thereof, depending on collective agreement. Some words we label “dirty.” Others are lofty, special, common, funny, and on and on. Why?
It’s because we humans have designated certain sounds or combinations of sounds to conjure up brain images of what we encounter in life. It’s our way of coping with our world. It orders it and makes it communicable between one another. That seems benign enough. However, the problem lies when such sounds are twisted, misinterpreted, and abused.
One example that jabs at me is the word: elderly. It seems to be used these days in a pejorative manner. It indicates that one is less than–is failing simply because of advanced age. There is a lot of brouhaha now about that around our 2024 potential candidates for U.S. President.
I don’t see myself in that elderly cast. I feel creative and full of zest for life. I participate in many activities, both physical and mental, ranging from attendance at a philosophy discussion group to hula dancing. True, there are some things I can’t do anymore that were a cinch when I was younger. Does that mean that I am no longer valid–that I should be put out to pasture? I don’t think so, and I refuse to accept that.
It’s odd that the term elderly evokes such a visual. The noun from which that adverb hails is “elder.” It has an opposite connotation. I have previously used the term elder in my writing in a complimentary way.
An elder is a person who, although in advanced years, is wise, knowledgeable, respected, and revered. Why does the addition of two little letters turn it on its head? I choose to toss them away and use the noun version to describe myself. You can, too.
With the snip of a pair of invisible scissors, you can go from elderly to elder. All it takes is a decision, a bit of will, and a little imagination mixed together in a powerful brew that will ward off the dreaded “ly.”
What Defines You? (2-19-24)
As an elderly woman, my mother let her illnesses define her. She was either going to the doctor, taking her medications, or complaining about how she felt. That was pretty much all she talked about. She would get mad if we, her husband and two daughters, tried to change the subject. We attempted to be understanding, but we were unsuccessful, and our interactions only made us share her depression.
I saw the same thing happen with a good friend. We had known each other for over twenty-five years. During most of our friendship, she was vivacious, fun, and truly a person who grabbed life. As she aged, she developed some serious health issues. Slowly, they begin to take over the fun part of her. The year before she died, she was depressed, angry, and joyless. I tried to be supportive, but it became a real downer being around her. I grew to dread our phone calls and visits.
My father spent the last two years of his life bedridden in a nursing home hooked up to a feeding tube. He, on the other hand, was upbeat and never complained. He greeted me with a big smile whenever I came to see him. We often played cards, and we also took “walks” which consisted of me pushing him around the block in his wheelchair as we chatted.
I had another friend who got cancer. She underwent serious treatments including a bone marrow transplant. She never spoke about her illness. She tried to stay involved in the activities of her family members and friends. If she felt in need of some rest, she’d just go quietly into another room and lie down for a while. She, a few other friends, and I went on a skiing vacation four months before she died.
Recently, I have developed some respiratory health issues. Fortunately, they are not very serious or life-threatening. Nevertheless, they have required a change in lifestyle. My diet is restricted, and I need to take medications, both orally and via inhaler. Yes, they cramp my style. Yes, they are a time suck. No, I don’t want to define my life by them.
I do not want to give up the activities I love. I am devising ways to modify my behavior. I refuse to turn into my mother or my first aforementioned friend. There are too many wonderful things to live for, and I plan to continue doing so with as much exuberance as I can muster. My father and my second above friend are my role models. They are whom I plan to emulate.
As we age, we can’t avoid illnesses. What we do have control over is how we choose to live with them.
...Coming from You! (2-5-24)
Some months ago, I attended a community theater performance featuring a small cast. One of the performers was an acquaintance. After the play was over, the actors came out to mingle with the audience members. I approached my acquaintance and told him he had done a good job. His response:
“Oh, Lee Gale, thank you so much. That means a lot to me coming from you.”
Wow, “…coming from you”! I was taken aback. I didn’t know he thought so highly of my acting abilities. It made me feel warm and kind of special. I also admired him for his willingness to compliment another. That’s not easy for many folks to do; they see it as diminishing themselves.
Recently, I was talking to a friend about the experience.
"Oh, yes, that’s the new thing to say.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that you’re starting to hear that phrase a lot lately.”
Well, I had never heard it before. The whole sweet compliment instantly soured for me. I originally had thought his statement was showing admiration for my work as an actress. What had made me feel respected and validated, now made me feel foolish when viewed through this new lens.
I was full of mind questions: Was the aforementioned acquaintance just using the newest, trendy platitude to throw me some crumbs? Was it actually a subtle snub? Was he laughing behind my back at my naiveté? Did it give him some sort of perverse satisfaction? Was it his “gotcha” of the day? Was I stupid not to have seen through it and to have just accepted it on its face?
I’ll never know if the speaker meant his statement to me sincerely or just as a throw away. What I do know is that I’m sick of the slick, verbal interchange so many humans engage in. It’s old, tiring, and too often in poor taste.
Be honest in your praise of others. Be genuine and stop playing snarky word games; that’s kid’s stuff. Engaging in subtle put-downs is off-putting, and it’s actually the practitioner who ends up in the worst light, not his/her victim.
Outrageous Laughter (1-22-24)
Last month, I took a wonderful car trip with my son. We traveled the northern coast of California in all its fury. It was great just to hang out together and share the experience.
In one small town, we stopped at a Dollar Store. The only thing I found was a $1.25 pair of fleece gloves. (Why the Dollar Store charges $1.25 for an item is a matter for another blog entirely.)
We proceeded to the automated cashier. My son took the gloves out of the shopping cart and scanned them. Nothing happened, so he scanned them a second time. Suddenly, the machine came to life, and the bill was for two pairs of gloves per the double scan. He tried to cancel the transaction but to no avail.
A store clerk appeared out of nowhere, punched in a code, the machine chortled a few times, and we were back to the new purchase screen. My son scanned the gloves, navigated his way to the checkout screen, and the machine informed us that the total purchase with tax would be $1.36.
I put my credit card in the appropriate slot and was ordered by the screen to wait for processing. We waited and waited and waited and waited. The aforementioned clerk happened to be walking by, and we hailed him over for the second time. Again, he typed in some special numbers, and we were thrust back to page one. Once more my son scanned the gloves. Again he made his way to the payment page for the $1.36 transaction.
I offered my credit card, but my son said, “No, we don’t want to play that game again. I’ll just pay cash. That’ll be faster.” He inserted a dollar into the appropriate place and then dropped a quarter into the change slot. The machine wouldn’t accept the quarter and kept spitting it into the little container below each time it was fed the coin anew.
For the third time, we hailed our clerk. Magic numbers flew, the dollar was returned (not the quarter) and we were back to page one again whereupon the clerk left.
My son repeated the requested steps and reached the payment page. However, fearful of angering the machine God yet another time, we hailed the clerk since we now revered him as a person with supernatural powers.
The clerk loaded in the bill and coins and completed the transaction. The whole thing, a $1.36 sale, was so ludicrous that I began to laugh. My laughter grew from a deep well within, and I couldn’t stop it. It was infectious, and my son caught it. We were completely out of control, cracking up together in sheer exuberance. Even when we calmed ourselves, a glance by one to the other reignited the whole exercise.
Laughing with someone else can be bonding and healing. Remember to laugh long and loud with those in your life, even if bystanders look askance and judge your behavior as outrageous.
Stop Means Stop (1-8-24)
Stop means stop even if that exact phrasing isn’t used. The current seriousness of that command has been the subject of recent court cases involving unwanted sexual encounters. However, there are many other scenarios where we might want someone to stop their behavior toward us.
The offensive act could be physical, verbal, or involve body language or facial expressions. It can pertain to your property, decision making, finances, or any other interference into your personal business by another.
We can choose a variety of methods to convey that we want someone’s specific action to cease. We might hold our palms out in a defensive way, or we might verbalize some sort of displeasure such as “No,” “I don’t think so,” or “That’s not comfortable for me” to name a few.
If your “no” is subtle or open to interpretation, the offender may misunderstand it, deliberately or not. In that case, his/her irritating behavior will continue until it accomplishes its purpose. The take-away is that you must be crystal clear in your “stop” words or actions. You may have to repeat them several times. You may have to raise your voice. You may finally have to pose a response such as “What part of no (or stop) don’t you understand?” It’s snarky and overused, but it will get the point across.
If you are the culprit, cut it out when someone signals their dislike of your conduct toward them. Unless you have no sensitivity at all, you most likely understood the message, and if you continue your unwanted actions, you have made a conscious decision to do so. Even if you feel that your agenda is more important than your victim’s, it’s their choice how to go about their own life. To ignore that to your own ends is just plain self-serving and mean. People don’t like it when you disrespect them. How do you feel when it happens to you?
Many ignore others rights and just barrel through. However, we all have the prerogative of not being the recipient of objectionable behavior. It’s up to each individual to set their boundaries and prohibit others from crossing them. Such a course is uncomfortable for many to do. Nevertheless, you must toughen up and learn to stand your ground. It’s the only way of controlling your own life rather than allowing others to do so. By acquiescing, you have made a decision to permit the intruder to interfere in your decisions. There’s nothing wrong with that as long as it’s something you want. However, if you don’t, it will upset you, nag at you, and puncture your self-esteem.
Take charge of your own decision making. As a last resort, you just might have to leave the staging area.
Being pregnant and birthing a child is a beautiful experience; I’ve done so twice. My children are precious to me. After five years of putting ourselves through college and establishing stable jobs and a home setting, my husband and I decided we were ready to welcome and provide for an expanded family.
Not long ago, someone emailed me a series of articles by conservative scholars about abortion. One opening paragraph talked about the guilt a woman would feel after an abortion. I didn’t even have to read them to the end to know that my own personal view would be the opposite. I try not to use this forum for extremely controversial matters. However, in this case, I felt that I should weigh in. Feel free to disagree with me–I still respect you, and I hope you still respect me. This was my response to the aforementioned email:
Well, I read the headlines and teasers. They’re all aimed at anti-abortion stances. I don’t even need to read the articles through to know that they will contain some intellectual treatise by their lofty writers culminating in ‘abortion is wrong–don’t have one.'”
My feelings about it: It’s how you present the unborn zygote. If you choose to insist that it is a human being and teach that to your children, of course they will feel guilty about having an abortion. If you teach them that said few cells only have some rudimentary human qualities and do not constitute a child until much later in the pregnancy, then the teenage girl, the rape/incest victim, the young professional with her dreams yet to be fulfilled, the impoverished mother with too many mouths to feed already, etc. whose lives will be excessively stressed or even destroyed by bearing an unwanted child will not feel guilty about terminating her pregnancy. It’s all in how you package the message.
I would never want to be forced to remain pregnant if my timetable were not right for me to have a child, and that time is one only I have the right decide. I would not hesitate to encourage my immature, teenage granddaughters to get an abortion if they became pregnant. Having a child at their ages would ruin their futures and their lives in general.
We are a world bursting at the seams with approximately eight billion humans and counting. We can’t even take care of those. There are factions not only against abortion but also against birth control. Aren’t birth control and abortion better options than letting thousands perish through poverty, wars, climate change, and on and on?
Must we forever stick our heads in the sand rather than face reality by allowing some (mostly old men) to implement actions that control women’s bodies? I suspect it is a power position for them and has long since left the realm of morality.
Any pregnant person who chooses to have an abortion, regardless of her reasons, should be supported and not castigated or made to feel guilty. Any pregnant person who chooses not to have an abortion, regardless of her reasons, should also be supported and respected.
Abortion is not murder! Abortion is a woman’s choice to live her life as she sees fit. Just as people should not make decisions about men having vasectomies, so should they not make decisions about women having abortions.
Beating Yourself Up (11-11-24)
Are you the simultaneous perpetrator and victim of beating yourself up? I know I certainly am. When I act and subsequently deem that act to have be wrong, I can really get down on myself. I ruminate, fixate, contemplate, and all the other “ates” you can think of. I spend hours running it over and over in my head. Getting upset with yourself can spoil your whole day.
There are people who get so angry with themselves that they become depressed and non-functional. Their self-hatred becomes the center of their universe. It renders them impotent in any future endeavors and ends up to be a self-defeating cycle. This, of course, can lead to serious mental health issues. Their trajectory probably started with something like:
“I didn’t pass the test, so I’m a failure.”
“I didn’t get the job, so I’m a loser.”
“I didn’t get invited to the (fill in the blank), so I’m a nobody.”
So many of us hold ourselves to far higher standards then we do of others. We can be understanding, sympathetic, and empathetic when someone else flubs things. However, with ourselves, not so much. Why is that? Why do we demand such self-perfection and have so little tolerance when we are imperfect–human?
Like so many traits about us, of course, it most likely harks back to childhood. Were our parents high achievers and demanded the same from us? Did our teachers push for it? Did we get more accolades, rewards, or goodies when we won the competition? Where we encouraged to seek a gold star on our homework…two gold stars, 10 Gold stars, yada, yada, yada? Were we disparaged when we didn’t meet someone else’s expectations?
Those coveted, paper gold stars that our teacher glued onto our tests seem silly now. However, their meaning has stayed with us, and we have carried its essence into adulthood, namely: success at any cost is the only thing that matters.
Is it possible to break the hold of gold stars and cut ourselves some slack? I’m not advocating doing less than your best. After all, what kind of a society would we have if everyone were slackers? However, maybe we can accept that we too are imperfect and make mistakes from time to time. Maybe we can stop beating ourselves up so severely when we err. Do we get to be forgiven like everyone else?
I Can't Hear You (10-29-24)
Many people find their hearing ability decreasing as they age. Others have had hearing challenges since childhood or developed them along the way from other causes such as repetitive exposure to loud noise, injury, and the like.
When the volume is louder–whether it be human speech, environmental sounds, or artificial sounds–it is easier to understand if your hearing is not too sharp. Conversely, when the volume is lower, it can pose a problem for the aforementioned population. If you are among that group, what can you do?
You might position yourself nearer to the source of the sound such as sitting close to the speaker in a room or not too far from the stage in a theater or auditorium. If the sound is artificially generated through an audio device, you can increase the volume to your comfort level. If that disturbs others in a group situation, you might consider wearing ear buds or headphones. If you are seriously hearing impaired, it might be time to investigate the use of hearing aids.
Sometimes, no matter what you do, you might find yourself in a situation where you can’t hear the content. I was cast in a play a few years ago. The actors were all rehearsing on the stage, and the director sat in the seating section so he could take in the sound and action like an audience member would. When he wanted to correct our performance, he would say, “Okay, stop,” and he’d speak to us. The problem was that the director himself had a very low voice, and I was having trouble hearing him. I missed much of his direction and was at a disadvantage by not getting his input.
When I could, I positioned myself closer to him so that I could hear, but that wasn’t possible every time. I eventually said to him, “Would you mind walking closer to us when you speak as it is hard to hear you?“ “Oh, I’ll just raise my voice“ was his response. Indeed, he did increase his volume for the next few sentences. But, he soon defaulted back to his normal, soft speaking voice. This happened on a few other occasions throughout the rehearsals until I just gave up and didn’t say anything further about it.
The sense of hearing is very important to humans and other animals. Second only to vision, sound helps orient us in space–helps us to understand what is happening so we can act accordingly. Without it, we are handicapped, and the quality of our life suffers.
Do your best to receive as much usable information as possible through your ears. Don’t expect others to change their style. We must be the ones to change ourselves to make sounds work for us.
Obstacle Course (10-14-24)
A beautiful mallard was alone in a creek as I strolled over a short bridge which spanned it. He (and it was a he as evidenced by his magnificent coloring–shame about nature’s discrimination against the female of so many species, color-wise at least) was gently floating with the current.
Every so often, the whole bucolic scene was interrupted by a sandbar. Mr. Mallard simply waddled across that tiny spit of land interrupting his tranquil sail and resumed paddling where the stream picked up on the other side. He didn’t stop to think about it. It was done smoothly without missing a beat as part of a continuous journey.
Can we be like a mallard? When we are peacefully swimming along with life and come upon an obstacle, can we simply waddle over it and resume where we left off? As most of us know, that’s harder than it sounds.
We humans store long-term memory which affects our present–our being in the now. It doesn’t matter that such experiences survive only in our minds and no longer exist. We revisit them repeatedly, often accompanied by much anxiety about the matter. If we are so bothered, why do we drag those thoughts along through the stream as we paddle and haul them up over barriers and down the back end before resuming our excursion?
We have euphemistically named our mental burdens “baggage,” because they weigh us down as we try to move forward. We might as well pack up our ruminations and carry them with us in a backpack, always attached, growing heavier through the years, and easily accessible to thwart us whenever we try to progress.
Have you ever thought about leaving that carryall behind in your waddling stage and jumping back into the stream with a lightened load? That’s right, just let that weighty rucksack slip off of your shoulders, to be abandoned on the sandbar. That would be a mental housecleaning exercise worthy of your time and energy. Then, like Mr. M., you can paddle on down your own personal stream with a bit less angst replaced by a bit more joy.
Styles of Dying (9-30-24)
On their way out of life, people behave in a variety of ways. Yes, I’m talking about styles of dying. Some become cranky, selfish, and impatient. They expect all around them to fulfill their every wish.
This approach puts tremendous stress on their loved ones such as children, spouse, siblings, etc. The soon-to-be deceased expects to be catered to constantly, having no thought of the needs and responsibilities of those significant others.
Conversely, there are those who have a dying style just the opposite. They grin and bear it, never complain, and try very hard not to burden those closest to them as they make their way to their final days. Of course, there are numerous styles in between.
I’ve known folks at both extremes. The constant complainers made me weary. I felt anxious when I was planning to call or visit them. Doing so became a chore no matter how close they were to me. The never-complainers were much easier to be with and seemed the preferred choice. However, they robbed me of sharing the sadness, fear, and anxiety we both felt when we contemplated their death. Maybe somewhere in between the extremes would work best for everyone involved.
What style are you going to adopt when it’s your time? The hold-it-all-in approach may cheat you and your friends and family members of a final opportunity for bonding. Conversely, even though you may be in great discomfort, distress, or pain, you can still make a choice as to whether or not you are going to dump it on others. Constant complaining and being demanding does not change your journey. It simply makes everyone around you miserable and maybe secretly wishing you’d pick up the pace.
I recently read an article about a study which found that thinking and caring about others rather than just focusing on yourself makes you happier and more content. So, for the stoics, give others the gift of saying goodbye to you. Conversely, even if it’s only for a selfish reason, stop being a constant pain in the ass if only because it’s to your benefit. Another bonus is that those close to you will remember you fondly rather than negatively after you are gone.
Dealing with a Narcissist (9-15-24)
Narcissism (it’s-all-about-me) is a behavior found in some people. The narcissist will seek out interactions or relationships where they can ply their magnetic personality traits. Narcissus was a Greek mythological character of great beauty who, after seeing his own reflection in a pool of water, fell in love with himself.
It’s hard to feel much self-worth when with a narcissist. All attention must be paid to him/her. They are a bottomless pit–never satisfied. If their friends or significant others shine in some way, they see it as stealing their own limelight, and they will use subtle tactics to divert the attention back to themselves. Should the other person try to hold their ground, an argument might ensue. After all, now the unspoken rules of engagement are being changed, and you are threatening their well-honed method of dealing with their own insecurity. Said narcissist doesn’t like that; it’s not what he/she signed up for.
Do you have a relationship with a narcissist? Does it make you feel like the life is being sucked out of you? Do you not get your share of the attention pie? Are you sick of it, yet?
There are a variety of methods you can use if you find yourself at the losing end of such an interaction. As with other types of dissatisfying or harmful relationships I’ve written about in this blog over the years, many of the techniques for dealing a narcissist are similar: You can refuse to engage. You can confront and insist on your turn. You can exit the staging area. You can end the relationship. As may seem obvious, these methods fall on a scale of less to more drastic. With each, there may be consequences to you, too, so weigh your actions carefully.
You might hone your approach in advance. Maybe journaling about it and writing a list of possible responses will help you grab and use one when needed.
Living with a narcissist or even just being in their company for a while can be draining. There’s an old joke attributed to the movie “Beaches” that pretty well unpacks it: During a conversation, a narcissist finally yields the discussion to someone else with the line: “But enough about me, let’s talk about you…. what do you think of me?”
Don’t expect the narcissist to change. Such behavior is too embedded into their personality. You must pry your own self out of that unbalanced situation. Use the aforementioned techniques and/or develop some of your own.
Sink or Swim (9-2-24)
There are certain personality types who want to control those in their sphere. It seems to feed something in their nature that relishes being on top of the heap in the great power trip competition. How they got that way is a matter of conjecture.
Were they under the thumb of someone similar as they were growing up and being shaped into their adulthood form, and they are just imitating their mentor? Are they sociopaths who were “born that way”? Whatever the reason, if you are the victim of such a person, you know that they will use any means possible to control you. It might be someone in your life like a boss, a teacher, or significant others including spouses, parents, children, siblings, etc. So, if you’re unhappy with the situation, how do you escape?
It’s pretty hard if you are dependent on them in some significant way such as financially or emotionally. If they are the power person in your life and control such strings, they can pull them whenever they are displeased with your behavior. Examples include an employer who subtly or not so subtly threatens to fire you and take away your livelihood; a spouse who vows to cut off your relationship with your children if you try to leave him/her; a parent who swears they are going to cut you out of their will; and on and on.
So, how do you save yourself from drowning in the cesspool your life has become? First, you must assess how badly you despise your situation. If you have decided you want out no matter what the cost, you must aim toward that goal; you must craft a plan of action and set about to carry it out.
In some cases, this may take years to accomplish. Nevertheless, if you keep working toward your endgame, you will chip away to an eventual outcome that is acceptable. Examples might be: if you are married and dependent on your spouse for financial support, you will have to develop your own source of income. This may mean pursuing more education so you can find a good paying job. If you risk being cut out of your parents’ will, you might have to change your mindset to accept living a life without the largesse you thought would be coming.
It all depends on how important escaping the crushing subjugation is to you versus what you may have to sacrifice to ameliorate it. Here’s a mantra I’ve offered in a previous blog to help you on your way if you choose to proceed: Never need or want anything he/she has the power to give or withhold. Good luck!
Negative Traits (8-18-24)
Everyone has some off-putting habits. They may giggle inappropriately, snort from time to time, grimace strangely, scratch frequently, shake their leg when sitting, and on and on. But, what about weightier traits such as irritability, intolerance, racism, and the like? What do we do if someone we know, and especially someone close to us, has such characteristics? How do we continue to associate with them if said features go against our own grain?
One way is to try to understand their motivation. Perhaps they are emulating an influential person in their life: parent, teacher, mentor, etc. Maybe he/she has been the victim of those actions from others. It’s strange and seems counterintuitive, but when someone experiences negative behavior directed toward them, they might go on to adopt it, too. An example is the child who is the victim of parental abuse, physical and/or psychological, and grows up to abuse their own children. Remember that old trope about the man who kicks his wife who kicks their child who kicks the dog? Hmmm, I wonder who the dog kicks–the mailman? Then, I guess, the mailman goes home and kicks his wife who kicks their child who…
I have some friends with attributes I don’t care for. However, if I rejected everyone in that category, I’d have no friends at all. We have to assess whether the good traits outweigh the bad, and just how bad are the bad.
If the behavior is something that the person can’t control such as facial tics, you’ll just have to change yourself and accept it rather than being irked each time. If it’s something they can control such as frequent testiness, you might say something like: “Oh, I see you’re in one of your moods again. I’ll just call you another time when you’re feeling more upbeat.” Such a statement conveys your acknowledgment of their current sullen temperament and your own position about being subjected to it yet again. Of course, this approach can be extrapolated to anyone’s undesirable acts that come your way. If the doer fails to alter such comportment in the future, then you have a decision to make about whether to continue the relationship.
Our own not-so-wonderful peculiarities pose another consideration. Yes, we must admit that we have them, too. We may call others quirky, but they might think that description applies to us.
Are there those in your life who love and accept you anyway, regardless of your unattractive side? Can we all be that big? Yes, I think we can with a little effort.
Complainers Vs. Stiff-Upper-Lippers (8-4-24)
The aging process causes the body to deteriorate. As we get older, we all experience it. Sometimes, it can be gradual and other times sudden. However it happens to you, there is no escaping it.
We all find ourselves with conditions or illnesses, some more debilitating than others. The question remains, how are we going to handle these changes while trying to lead a satisfying life.
Our choices fall on a continuum. At one end, we have the complainers and whiners, and at the other end are the stiff-upper-lippers. Of course, there are countless styles in between. Each offers its advantages and disadvantages. The complainers and whiners get to dump their feelings onto others, achieving a certain cleansed feeling. However, the flipside is that such behavior eventually alienates most folks who then start drifting away. The stiff-upper-lippers never get a chance to vent their pain and sorrow, yet they are able to maintain their pride and are respected for their fortitude by most they encounter.
The idea of, “Keep a stiff upper lip” dates back to ancient Greece, but it has been honed by the British in modern times. It refers to a person who does not show their feelings when upset. My own style tends towards stiff-upper-lippedness. That seems to work best for me. However, not everyone agrees.
I recently had an experience where I posted on a social media group dealing with a particular medical condition I’ve developed. I suggested that folks ought not to complain so much about their health and instead change their attitude and try to find other interests. Well, that didn’t sit at all well with one member. She posted a scathing response which included inviting me to stop participating in that group, although she was not the website administrator. Nope, I wasn’t going to rob her of her whining rights.
Okay, my outlook is not everyone’s cup of tea (another wink at the British), but it is my philosophy of how to live a fulfilling life. After all, that’s what most of us are striving for, isn’t it?
What I’m advocating here is: do not define your life by your illness. Try to find activities or better yet a passion that will give your life meaning. Even with your medical challenges, there are still many positive experiences to be had. Don’t die before you actually die!
Launch Yourself (7-7-24)
We all have different needs. We tend to choose our friends based on how they might satisfy those requirements. It’s nearly impossible to find just one person to fit that role. So, we pick different friends who each satisfy one/some of our needs.
If you have a dearth in some area, you may look to fill it from another who has traits that you are lacking. For example: you might be attracted to an extrovert to contrast with your introverted personality. Or, you might find a calm type which fits well with your own hyper nature.
Conversely, you may seek out others with similarities to you. Maybe you pick someone who likes the same type of movies or theatrical performances as you do. Another may enjoy going on hikes or participating in sporting events that you relish. A third may be a good listener and available when you need to talk something out.
We all select our friends and even our significant others based on internal, subconscious criteria that is meaningful to us. Conversely, we are chosen by them for the same reason. Usually, folks don't analyze why they gravitate to a particular person. It's mostly done on the basis of gut reaction; you just feel it.
Think about your close friends and what needs they satisfy for you. Are they still doing it, or have your friendships just become a habit. There is nothing wrong with most habits–harmful, addictive behaviors aside–but many times they lead to our own stagnation. As we all know, habits are difficult to break. They are a known quantity and provide a level of comfort, but the downside is that they have a penchant for preventing us from developing.
Don't make your time on earth a life-by-habit. Keep your old friends and routines, but find room to explore fresh ones. Seek out new people; cultivate different pastimes; explore untried activities.
If time constraints are an issue, you may have to modify or even cut back on the old to make way for the new. Try to sprinkle a dash of each in your recipe for a fulfilling life. A combination of the comfortable and the uncharted are what bring stability and richness to our journey. Keep your feet on the ground, but take off in a rocket to outer space from time to time. If Captain Kirk can do it, so can you.
A Timely Retort (6-23-24)
Have you ever gotten into an unexpected confrontation with a stranger? I'm sure it’s happened to all of us. In human society with so many of us in such close proximity, we can’t help bumping up against each other. From time to time, that congested interaction creates irritation and misunderstandings. Verbal barbs or even physical jabs might be exchanged.
Recently, I was standing in a long line at a supermarket checkout stand. Finally, it was my turn. As the cashier was ringing up my order, I saw that she had made a significant error to my detriment (hint: avocados were involved). I asked for clarification which required summoning her manager. Needless to say, other people in line were becoming testy.
As the manager was correcting the error, I was asking questions so I could understand it all. The man just behind me--a big, burly baritone--decided to join in with his opinion on the whole matter, branding me as the bad guy for making his wait longer. That only added to my nervousness, hobbling my attempt to figure out the confusing bill.
I invited the interloper to go to a different cashier if he weren’t happy. Well, that set him off. After a few back-and-forths, he capped it off with, "You have the manners of a 10-year-old child!" Years ago in such a situation, I would have meekly withdrawn, beating myself up later with, "I should have said." However, this time, I managed to keep my wits about me, calmly turned to him, and replied, "That’s funny, I was just thinking that you have the manners of a five-year-old child." My antagonist beat a hasty retreat to another cashier, muttering under his breath while shooting eye daggers at me.
Well, of course, I was high for the rest of the day and into the next on that little victory. I had managed to hold my own and do so in a timely manner, even under the pressure of impatient people staring at our drama and probably blaming me for making them late to their next engagement. I did, however, spy a few tiny smiles and stares of admiration in my direction.
It’s not easy to stand up for yourself and handle a difficult situation at the same time. However, it is so gratifying to do so. I have reached a point in my life where I no longer care to be intimidated by others, especially those who are physically bigger and have a stronger voice than I have. No, the one who yells loudest does not get to be the winner by default.
Coping with Cell Phone Addicts (6-9-24)
My last blog dealt with people who are too often obsessed with what is coming next rather than dealing with what is happening at the moment. That includes frequently checking their cell phones. A reader suggested I opine on the subject–from the point of view of the “others”–regarding the situation where one party in a group spends significant time interacting with their cell phone rather than engaging with those others. How does it feel? What can one do about it?
Unfortunately, I don’t hold out much hope for any possible solutions. When somebody frequently takes to their cell phone even while they are in the company of other people, I would call the former a cell phone addict. Your first clue that you are dealing with such a person is that their cell phone is always present.
One of the worst offenders I have encountered was when I got together in a restaurant with someone I had never met before. The first thing he did was take out his cell phone and lay it on the table next to his plate. When I gently objected, he refused to remedy the situation, and the c/p remained there the whole time. Of course, he answered it when it rang and gave the caller the attention I thought should have been paid to me.
As with any addiction, it’s hard to break, even when the perpetrator desires to do so. When such an endeavor is contemplated only at the behest of another, the addict is even less inclined to put forth the effort needed to kick the habit. Therefore, I can only offer a few coping mechanisms that you “others” can try:
- You might relate that you’ve been looking forward to getting together with them, and you find it hurtful and offensive when they answer a phone call or make one they deem more important.
- You can try to strike an agreement up front to tell each other if either is expecting an urgent call from a medical practitioner, a sickly relative, or the like and agree not to take or make other calls.
- You might try to arrange in advance to both turn off your cell phones for the time you will be together.
- When their cell phone use becomes too upsetting, you can execute a hasty get-away with a statement like: “Goodbye, gotta go now. I’ll leave you to your cell phone.”
I’ve attempted all of my aforementioned suggestions and have usually been unsuccessful when dealing cell phone addicts. I’ve had to accept the fact that I simply can’t compete with the fascination of their cell phone. So, you might want to try the method I have found most satisfactory in preserving my self-esteem. I have stopped getting together with cell phone addicts, even close friends. It works for me. Maybe it will work for you.
What's Coming Next? (5-27-24)
Have you ever known someone who is always talking about what’s coming next instead of what’s occurring at that moment? You often catch them looking away rather than engaging in the current business. Maybe you, yourself, are like that.
Such a person simply can’t enjoy the present when their mind is focused exclusively on the future, near and far. What’s coming the next hour, next day, next week, next month, next…
You can always tell the afflicted ones. Their attention is frequently wandering. They are all too quick to grab that cell phone to deal with something else. They may consult their watch a bit too often. Whatever is coming up on their dance card seems so much more compelling than what’s taking place now.
Of course, when that next event arrives, they don’t allow themselves to experience it in full. No, they are too focused on what’s coming next. Hence, the next never arrives, and they never fully enjoy anything.
Are you content with such behavior? Do you wish you could give up that constant need to live in the future? Do you have any idea why you or someone you know behaves that way?
I suspect it’s a matter of control. The future is unknown, often scary, and can bring unpleasant and even frightening happenings. If one can control the future as much as possible, maybe those negative outcomes can be avoided or at least minimized. That certainly sounds like a good approach. The problem occurs when such action is carried to the extreme so as to cut off full participation in current experiences.
The next question becomes how to curtail such behavior. If you’re a mature adult, it won’t be easy. You’ve probably been coping with life in that way for decades now. Giving up such a mechanism will require a major change of your personality. Even with professional help, it can only be accomplished if you want it very much. Then, you will you be motivated enough to stop yourself when you fall back into your old habits, accept that it is a one-step forward/one-step back process, and keep at it until you slowly start seeing results.
Good luck on your progress!
Standing Out vs. Blending In (5-9-24)
Are you a standing out or a blending in kind of gal/guy? These two types of personalities are found near opposite ends of a continuum, and all people fit in somewhere along that line. The extremes are akin to extrovert versus introvert, but not quite to the extent that those labels bring to mind.
A standing out person might be more chatty, exuberant, flashy, etc. A blending in person might be more introspective, subtle, reserved, and the like. One is not better than the other, necessarily. They both have their pros and cons.
Personality types are evident in very young children. It seems to be something that one is born with. Then, a little environmental influence along the maturation process is added to the basic recipe, and the whole mixture molds that human to establish his/her personality. That is what usually determines where you fall on the personality scale when you finally reach adulthood.
A standing out kind of person might attract more attention to themselves, but that attention could be either positive or negative. A blending in type of person might harbor envy of the standing-outers who usually get the lion’s share of attention. Of course, standing-outers might be jealous of the blending-iners who may not get the blame as often.
Standing out can be exhausting while blending in might seem to be less taxing and energy draining. However, blending-iners might suffer more internal turmoil from the lack of recognition they think they deserve.
You probably can’t change your innate personality, but you may be able to modify it if you’re willing to put in the effort required to do so. The trick to contentment, however, is to accept your own personality type and make peace with it.
Regardless, of which personality you tend to favor, there are careers, activities, companions, and rewards available to suit your type. Seek them out and take advantage of them at your own comfort level. Trial and error will help you find your particular niche.
I Can Give You Five Minutes (4-29-24)
I used to have a casual friend who I usually encountered in a group situation. Occasionally, we spoke on the phone, most often to discuss an upcoming get-together of our mutual friends. I remember when I would call her, she was often “so busy.” Her frequent reply to my opening “Hi, how are you?” was, “Oh, hi. I can give you five minutes.”
How benevolent of her to grant me five minutes of her valuable time. However, what I got out of her generosity was that I no longer cared to call her. She was condescending, and obviously, I was rarely high enough on her list of priorities to warrant more than five minutes allotted to me.
I had a different friend who is, also, now a former friend. She started associating with another crowd, and I hadn’t talked to her for a while. One day, I was thinking about her, so I called her just to chat. After my opening “Hi, how are you?” her response after the obligatory “fine” was, “What did you call about?” What I called about was not a specific matter but just for some connection. She made me feel foolish with her confrontational question, as though it were a business matter and how she could be most efficient in hurrying it along. I think you can pretty much guess our future relationship. Neither of us called the other again.
I’m not interested in friends like that. Let the first aforementioned person give her valuable five minutes to someone else. Let the second not have my friendship. I, on the other hand, will spend my time and energy with those who appreciate me and vice versa.
Do you have such a situation in your life; maybe the same words are not used, but it’s the same idea? You know that guy/gal who always leaves you feeling a little wonky after finishing your contact with them? Something is not quite right, but you can’t figure out what it is. If so, spend a little time analyzing why that person is so off-putting. If, on the other hand, you are the off-putter, be aware of why your friends keep melting away.
There’s no need for anyone to continue batting their head against the proverbial wall. Simply walk away from involvement with people who make you feel unworthy. I know that’s not always easy. It might be someone close such as a family member or one who is part of a larger group of friends. Nevertheless, there’s no need for you to feel demeaned each time you have an interaction with them. Find others who make you feel good about yourself and are able and willing to give you more than just five minutes.
Angles (4-14-24)
Everyone has an angle. No, I’m not talking about the 90 degree type or its gradients. I mean an angle in the sense of one’s agenda. It is a selfish manipulation of a situation in order to maximize it for one’s own benefit. That is not a good thing or a bad thing. It is simply human nature–or actually animal nature. We must behave that way in order to insure our own survival.
However, some people carry it to an extreme. They go far beyond mere survival. Their “angle” is to drive as much of the communal resources toward themselves as they can, often to the detriment of the other members. That’s when an angle begins swinging from neutral toward the far end of the pendulum’s arc.
We see that a lot these days. For example, there is way too much wealth concentrated in the hands of way too few. That leaves way too many without the ability to satisfy even their basic needs.
Some will say that those unfortunate folks were simply not smart enough, not sharp enough, not swift enough, not lucky enough, not resourceful enough, not…not…not. That may be so, but are those reasons to justify why smarties, sharpies, swifties, et al should have far more than they will ever be able to use in their lifetime or their children’s lifetimes or their grandchildren’s lifetimes or…or…or? Even with spending it as fast as they can on lavish goods and projects such as vanity rocket ships, they still can’t seem to get rid of their money. The structure of their businesses and investments along with the laws and politics that accompany them add more wealth to fill any gap in their financial portfolios that their expenditures create.
These are questions that our society has grappled with historically and is currently grappling with. How long do we let this situation continue? Is it until we are not only witnessing homeless encampments on the side of our local roads, but when we are actually stepping around the impoverished as we walk down the sidewalks that abut those roads or honk impatiently at them as we are trying to pull our cars out of the driveway. How long do we wait?
Hiding in Plain Sight (4-1-24)
We are all hiding some parts of ourselves from the light of day. They are those parts we don’t want to reveal to others lest they disapprove, judge, and deem us unworthy or undesirable. Yes, everyone has those hidden aspects no matter how attractive, rich, personable, or privileged they might be.
We have learned along the way what is socially acceptable and what is not. We skillfully hide our not-so-attractive parts with a magician’s sleight-of-hand. We keep talking constantly so as to deflect our audience from potentially discovering our flaws. We toss out glib remarks to detour others from learning our secrets. We withhold personal details to keep them from gaining an upper hand.
The downside is that our hypervigilance becomes exhausting and a time suck. Juggling balls is no fun. When do we get to “let our hair down” and be our authentic self?
For some, the answer is never. However, for many others as they age, they begin to realize that these great secrets they’ve spent so much time and energy hiding are not the big deals that they always thought they were. The reality is that most people are spending their attention and efforts on their own issues to care much about yours.
What I’m suggesting is to stop hiding your imperfections. I know it’s a scary thought and a complete about face from your decades old modus operandi. But, think of the upside. Your life may become so much less stressful–worrisome. (I’ve written on this topic before. Read my blog of 6-26-18: “The Big Reveal” and my blog of 4-29-19: "Hiding.")
You don’t have to unmask everything at once. Try it in baby steps. Expose just one or a few of your vulnerabilities, and see how that goes. Then, assess the outcome. Have you become the pariah of your community or did people really not care? If you survived that first attempt, try another one. You may not need to let it all hang out, but at least start taking off some of your makeup and showing others what you really look like underneath. All you have to gain is a greater comfort level in your life.
Passing Through (3-18-24)
We are all travelers just passing through. We rail, stomp our feet, and carry on about this and that. It all seems so urgent--so important. But, one day, we will be replaced by younger railers, stompers, and carriers. They will behave like us, just with different faces.
So, what’s it all about, Alfie? Is it worth the anger, vitriol, stress, and everything else that we subject ourselves and others to? All the huffies that we drag from one decade to the next seem like a giant burden, and often the reason is minimal or forgotten completely.
As a teenager, obnoxious as most in that category, I used to argue with my father to spend more money. He was a tightwad in my mind. Truth be told, he was very frugal with his money, having lived through the depression of the 1930s and been subjected to its deprivations.
“You can’t take it with you,” I’d remind him over and over.
“Then, I’m not going,” he’d answer each time.
He may have plagarized that funny quip, but it didn’t matter. That call and response game became our private joke. We got to the point where we’d shout out his predictable reply in unison, cracking up and bonding. Nevertheless, there was a point to our back-and-forth.
What happened as my father aged is that he did loosen up. He began to realize that his life was finite, and that he wanted to find more joy in the years he had left. Although he never became extravagant in the money spending department, he wasn’t as rigid as in his earlier years.
Those in younger generations to whom I am close: children, grandchildren, etc. have similar conversations with and about me. The subject might not concern money, but it deals with matters that are generational disconnects.
The reality is that you may think you own real estate, automobiles, jewelry, and the like. Nope, you are simply temporary custodians. You are just travelers, passing through.
Travel lightly. Remember to be kind to those who come after you so they will have loving, caring conversations about you when your journey here is complete.
What's in a Name/Word? (3-4-24)
What’s in a name? pondered the Bard. Well, a lot it turns out. Names (or words) are just utterances–sounds made by air in our lungs forced out through our vocal cords which then vibrate to create them. However, we imbue names/words with great power or the lack thereof, depending on collective agreement. Some words we label “dirty.” Others are lofty, special, common, funny, and on and on. Why?
It’s because we humans have designated certain sounds or combinations of sounds to conjure up brain images of what we encounter in life. It’s our way of coping with our world. It orders it and makes it communicable between one another. That seems benign enough. However, the problem lies when such sounds are twisted, misinterpreted, and abused.
One example that jabs at me is the word: elderly. It seems to be used these days in a pejorative manner. It indicates that one is less than–is failing simply because of advanced age. There is a lot of brouhaha now about that around our 2024 potential candidates for U.S. President.
I don’t see myself in that elderly cast. I feel creative and full of zest for life. I participate in many activities, both physical and mental, ranging from attendance at a philosophy discussion group to hula dancing. True, there are some things I can’t do anymore that were a cinch when I was younger. Does that mean that I am no longer valid–that I should be put out to pasture? I don’t think so, and I refuse to accept that.
It’s odd that the term elderly evokes such a visual. The noun from which that adverb hails is “elder.” It has an opposite connotation. I have previously used the term elder in my writing in a complimentary way.
An elder is a person who, although in advanced years, is wise, knowledgeable, respected, and revered. Why does the addition of two little letters turn it on its head? I choose to toss them away and use the noun version to describe myself. You can, too.
With the snip of a pair of invisible scissors, you can go from elderly to elder. All it takes is a decision, a bit of will, and a little imagination mixed together in a powerful brew that will ward off the dreaded “ly.”
What Defines You? (2-19-24)
As an elderly woman, my mother let her illnesses define her. She was either going to the doctor, taking her medications, or complaining about how she felt. That was pretty much all she talked about. She would get mad if we, her husband and two daughters, tried to change the subject. We attempted to be understanding, but we were unsuccessful, and our interactions only made us share her depression.
I saw the same thing happen with a good friend. We had known each other for over twenty-five years. During most of our friendship, she was vivacious, fun, and truly a person who grabbed life. As she aged, she developed some serious health issues. Slowly, they begin to take over the fun part of her. The year before she died, she was depressed, angry, and joyless. I tried to be supportive, but it became a real downer being around her. I grew to dread our phone calls and visits.
My father spent the last two years of his life bedridden in a nursing home hooked up to a feeding tube. He, on the other hand, was upbeat and never complained. He greeted me with a big smile whenever I came to see him. We often played cards, and we also took “walks” which consisted of me pushing him around the block in his wheelchair as we chatted.
I had another friend who got cancer. She underwent serious treatments including a bone marrow transplant. She never spoke about her illness. She tried to stay involved in the activities of her family members and friends. If she felt in need of some rest, she’d just go quietly into another room and lie down for a while. She, a few other friends, and I went on a skiing vacation four months before she died.
Recently, I have developed some respiratory health issues. Fortunately, they are not very serious or life-threatening. Nevertheless, they have required a change in lifestyle. My diet is restricted, and I need to take medications, both orally and via inhaler. Yes, they cramp my style. Yes, they are a time suck. No, I don’t want to define my life by them.
I do not want to give up the activities I love. I am devising ways to modify my behavior. I refuse to turn into my mother or my first aforementioned friend. There are too many wonderful things to live for, and I plan to continue doing so with as much exuberance as I can muster. My father and my second above friend are my role models. They are whom I plan to emulate.
As we age, we can’t avoid illnesses. What we do have control over is how we choose to live with them.
...Coming from You! (2-5-24)
Some months ago, I attended a community theater performance featuring a small cast. One of the performers was an acquaintance. After the play was over, the actors came out to mingle with the audience members. I approached my acquaintance and told him he had done a good job. His response:
“Oh, Lee Gale, thank you so much. That means a lot to me coming from you.”
Wow, “…coming from you”! I was taken aback. I didn’t know he thought so highly of my acting abilities. It made me feel warm and kind of special. I also admired him for his willingness to compliment another. That’s not easy for many folks to do; they see it as diminishing themselves.
Recently, I was talking to a friend about the experience.
"Oh, yes, that’s the new thing to say.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that you’re starting to hear that phrase a lot lately.”
Well, I had never heard it before. The whole sweet compliment instantly soured for me. I originally had thought his statement was showing admiration for my work as an actress. What had made me feel respected and validated, now made me feel foolish when viewed through this new lens.
I was full of mind questions: Was the aforementioned acquaintance just using the newest, trendy platitude to throw me some crumbs? Was it actually a subtle snub? Was he laughing behind my back at my naiveté? Did it give him some sort of perverse satisfaction? Was it his “gotcha” of the day? Was I stupid not to have seen through it and to have just accepted it on its face?
I’ll never know if the speaker meant his statement to me sincerely or just as a throw away. What I do know is that I’m sick of the slick, verbal interchange so many humans engage in. It’s old, tiring, and too often in poor taste.
Be honest in your praise of others. Be genuine and stop playing snarky word games; that’s kid’s stuff. Engaging in subtle put-downs is off-putting, and it’s actually the practitioner who ends up in the worst light, not his/her victim.
Outrageous Laughter (1-22-24)
Last month, I took a wonderful car trip with my son. We traveled the northern coast of California in all its fury. It was great just to hang out together and share the experience.
In one small town, we stopped at a Dollar Store. The only thing I found was a $1.25 pair of fleece gloves. (Why the Dollar Store charges $1.25 for an item is a matter for another blog entirely.)
We proceeded to the automated cashier. My son took the gloves out of the shopping cart and scanned them. Nothing happened, so he scanned them a second time. Suddenly, the machine came to life, and the bill was for two pairs of gloves per the double scan. He tried to cancel the transaction but to no avail.
A store clerk appeared out of nowhere, punched in a code, the machine chortled a few times, and we were back to the new purchase screen. My son scanned the gloves, navigated his way to the checkout screen, and the machine informed us that the total purchase with tax would be $1.36.
I put my credit card in the appropriate slot and was ordered by the screen to wait for processing. We waited and waited and waited and waited. The aforementioned clerk happened to be walking by, and we hailed him over for the second time. Again, he typed in some special numbers, and we were thrust back to page one. Once more my son scanned the gloves. Again he made his way to the payment page for the $1.36 transaction.
I offered my credit card, but my son said, “No, we don’t want to play that game again. I’ll just pay cash. That’ll be faster.” He inserted a dollar into the appropriate place and then dropped a quarter into the change slot. The machine wouldn’t accept the quarter and kept spitting it into the little container below each time it was fed the coin anew.
For the third time, we hailed our clerk. Magic numbers flew, the dollar was returned (not the quarter) and we were back to page one again whereupon the clerk left.
My son repeated the requested steps and reached the payment page. However, fearful of angering the machine God yet another time, we hailed the clerk since we now revered him as a person with supernatural powers.
The clerk loaded in the bill and coins and completed the transaction. The whole thing, a $1.36 sale, was so ludicrous that I began to laugh. My laughter grew from a deep well within, and I couldn’t stop it. It was infectious, and my son caught it. We were completely out of control, cracking up together in sheer exuberance. Even when we calmed ourselves, a glance by one to the other reignited the whole exercise.
Laughing with someone else can be bonding and healing. Remember to laugh long and loud with those in your life, even if bystanders look askance and judge your behavior as outrageous.
Stop Means Stop (1-8-24)
Stop means stop even if that exact phrasing isn’t used. The current seriousness of that command has been the subject of recent court cases involving unwanted sexual encounters. However, there are many other scenarios where we might want someone to stop their behavior toward us.
The offensive act could be physical, verbal, or involve body language or facial expressions. It can pertain to your property, decision making, finances, or any other interference into your personal business by another.
We can choose a variety of methods to convey that we want someone’s specific action to cease. We might hold our palms out in a defensive way, or we might verbalize some sort of displeasure such as “No,” “I don’t think so,” or “That’s not comfortable for me” to name a few.
If your “no” is subtle or open to interpretation, the offender may misunderstand it, deliberately or not. In that case, his/her irritating behavior will continue until it accomplishes its purpose. The take-away is that you must be crystal clear in your “stop” words or actions. You may have to repeat them several times. You may have to raise your voice. You may finally have to pose a response such as “What part of no (or stop) don’t you understand?” It’s snarky and overused, but it will get the point across.
If you are the culprit, cut it out when someone signals their dislike of your conduct toward them. Unless you have no sensitivity at all, you most likely understood the message, and if you continue your unwanted actions, you have made a conscious decision to do so. Even if you feel that your agenda is more important than your victim’s, it’s their choice how to go about their own life. To ignore that to your own ends is just plain self-serving and mean. People don’t like it when you disrespect them. How do you feel when it happens to you?
Many ignore others rights and just barrel through. However, we all have the prerogative of not being the recipient of objectionable behavior. It’s up to each individual to set their boundaries and prohibit others from crossing them. Such a course is uncomfortable for many to do. Nevertheless, you must toughen up and learn to stand your ground. It’s the only way of controlling your own life rather than allowing others to do so. By acquiescing, you have made a decision to permit the intruder to interfere in your decisions. There’s nothing wrong with that as long as it’s something you want. However, if you don’t, it will upset you, nag at you, and puncture your self-esteem.
Take charge of your own decision making. As a last resort, you just might have to leave the staging area.
Remembering Those Who Are Gone (12-23-23)
Shared meals are uplifting and bonding for humans. They offer more than just food for the stomach; they also provide nourishment for the soul.
As a child, my extended family had large, multi-generational gatherings, especially around special events or holidays. I played with my cousins before we all sat down to a wonderful lunch or dinner. Those happenings were full of warmth and joy. We children felt cared for, safe, and loved.
Today, so many of the attendees at those special occasions are no longer alive. What I once took for granted–I thought it would always be so–is just a memory now. Parents, aunts and uncles, and some cousins live on only in my thoughts, photographs, and discussions with those still here.
How did that happen? Why wasn’t I paying closer attention? Why didn’t I learn more from the last generation when I had the chance? Maybe some of that time fooling around with my cousins could have been devoted to picking the brains of my elders. Today, there are so many unanswered questions I have about my family history. Those who once could have explained them are no longer available to do so.
My son is now very interested in learning about his ancestors. He questions me, and we look at family pictures and memorabilia together. I do my best, but often I don’t have a response to many of his inquiries. I am fortunate to have a personal autobiography written by my mother. She worked on it diligently when she was in her final years and gave it to my sister and me just months before she died. My son has devoured it. I have made copies for cousins who love to read about their own parents in my mother’s account.
My memoir about attending a senior acting class and performing onstage with my father when he was 85 and I was 60 was originally started just for my family. When it was completed, I chose to publish it for public consumption under the title: Adventures with Dad: A Father and Daughter’s Journey Through a Senior Acting Class. My son cherishes that book, too. He was so excited when I was composing it, that he wrote the foreword.
I am now a member of the oldest living generation in my family. My children are grown and have children of their own–my grandchildren. The young ones soon run off to play when I try to discuss their great-grandparents and all the rest whom they hardly knew or didn’t know at all. It’s more interesting to amuse themselves with the newest toy or pet than to hear about a bunch of deceased relatives.
“Children will be children,” as the saying goes. They don’t realize that things end. But, one day they may wonder about their family history. So, leave the information for them however you can. You might write a memoir or autobiography just for the family or pay a professional ghostwriter to do it for you. Maybe someone can interview you while recording it on an electronic device as one cousin did with my great uncle. Although he had resided in the United States for decades, he started his recollection from when he was a child living in a village in Russia. Now, how incredible is that!
Find some way to save the story of your family for future generations. Without a doubt, they will come seeking it once they tire of their toys and pets.
Braids, Inkwells, and Romance--Oh, My! (12-9-23)
Today’s blog is my take on a subject suggested by one of my readers: braids and inkwells.
How do we connect with others, especially potential intimate partners? When we are attracted to somebody, how do we let them know?
There is the old cliché of the boy sitting behind the girl in elementary school and dipping the ends of her braids into the inkwell on his desk. Yes, that’s how a young male might have shown his affection for a young female a century ago. At least it’s a step-up from caveman days of yore where whacking your potential main squeeze over the head with a club was supposedly the preferred method.
Inkwells were common place in the early 1900s but fell out of favor by the 1940s. Vessels to hold liquid ink for writing, they were originally used with dip pens to coat the tip with the ink. In the early 19th century, dip pens had replaced quill or reed pens, but they in turn were replaced by fountain pens in the late 19th century. Here’s a quick primer on how a fountain pen functions: the writing tip called the nib is dipped into an inkwell or ink bottle. Then, a small lever on the pen’s side is pulled out on one end to force the other end to push against an internal reservoir. As the lever is slowly released, the reservoir sucks up the ink which is then guided onto paper by the nib in the act of writing.
As a young girl, I had two braids which trailed down my back. I remember sitting in class at a desk with a hole in it for an inkwell. However, by that time, liquid ink was no longer used in schools. Nevertheless, the old desks still had plenty of service left in them, so they remained.
The messy fountain pen became redundant by the 1950s with the switch to the ballpoint pen, a writing instrument that uses gravity to enable ink from a cartridge to flow onto a ball bearing on the pen’s tip. Today, we have almost given up the ballpoint pen, too. Writing nowadays seems to be an irritant and time suck when we can just type on a computer or its ilk–or better yet, dictate our words and watch them automatically transcribed onto a screen. Then, just push a button to instantly send your missive to another–so much faster, cleaner, and cheaper than writing it with a leak-prone implement, placing it into an envelope, licking it shut, applying a stamp, and depositing it into a mailbox with a several-day delay until arriving at the location of the intended recipient.
But, I digress–back to gaining the notice of a potential love interest. As we mature, our methods become more subtle than braid dipping. Nevertheless, they have the same underlying motive: How do I get your attention? How do I convey that I’m interested in you as a potential mate? How do I make you like me? These considerations continue up into seniorhood.
It’s intimidating to expose your feelings because possible rejection is always lurking. However, if we sublimate those emotions and never reveal them to our intended target, we are destined to remain alone. The lesson here is that, like most things in life which might yield a high reward, you must take a chance. You may not succeed, but at least you tried. In that case, simply move on to the next pair of braids when you stumble upon an inkwell.
What's in a Name? (11-27-23)
I have an unusual first name: Lee Gale. On my birth certificate, it is officially my first and middle name. My father thought it up inspired by similar names of deceased relatives, but my mother never liked the name: Lee. So, for the first year of my life, they just called me “the baby.” They finally realized that wasn’t going to cut it as I aged, so they settled on Lee Gale.
Upon meeting me for the first time, a rare few will ask if I use Lee or Lee Gale. After being told the latter is my preference, they just segue right into it without a problem. Today, I’m addressing the other group: those with a problem.
Many want to call me just Lee, or just Gale. To them, I usually offer a hint: Think of the word “legal,” and then stretch it out a bit. Sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t. I’m sure most of you with a “different” name can relate.
Since my name can also be interpreted as a man’s name, I have had strange experiences down through the years. When I stayed at a fancy hotel decades ago, my female companion found a rose on her pillow that night. Mine had a piece of chocolate which I found out later was for male guests. Another strange one from long ago: I showed up for a medical exam required by a sporting event I had enrolled in. I was shown to a cubicle in a row of many, and a curtain was drawn across the front. Shortly, I heard someone calling my name from a distance. The doctor was looking for me on the male’s side. In high school, I was assigned a few times to boys’ gym classes—hmmm, maybe not so bad. And, of course, the way U.S. mail is addressed to me is a whole other story.
The correct spelling of my name is also a hang-up for many. Sometimes it ends up: Legale, or Leegale without a space between the two words. I, also, am often identified as: Lee Gail or Lee Gayle. I recently had an example of the latter. After I was cast in a play, I entered my name on a list of the actors. Within a short time, a pesky “Y” had entered the second word of my first name on another list and then on subsequent missives. Whoever had transposed it from the original had just put their own spin on it. What’s the matter, don’t they think I know how to spell my own name?
Why am I making such a big deal about this? A name is something very personal. It’s a significant part of our identity. When it is mistreated with improper pronunciation or spelling, it is insulting and diminishing. The name botcher just can’t take the time to get it right. In so many of my cases, the wrong spelling was reproduced elsewhere and then many more elsewheres. Undoing that mess is like trying to fix a credit card theft.
I have learned that if I don’t correct such errors immediately, they grow and spread like a cancer. In the case of an acting role, such things as newspaper notices, flyers, playbills, etc. may all end up with the incorrect spelling. Then, if someone wants to find me in order to interview me or offer me other roles, it makes it more difficult for them.
Today, we are all moving so fast that we can’t even spend a moment to get someone’s name right. Maybe it’s not considered important, but it is actually a matter of respect to do so. When you mangle someone’s name, they don’t forget it. If some people find it an irritant to master my name, I just tell them, “You can blame my parents.” My position: if you can learn Beyoncé, you can learn Lee Gale. At least mine doesn’t have an accent mark!
Perpetual Pollyannas (11-13-23)
What does it mean when someone is called a Pollyanna? The term comes from a children’s book written over a century ago about an orphan girl who maintains an exuberant and favorable attitude throughout the adversity she encounters. I frequently write in this forum encouraging readers to be positive and upbeat. However, that, like everything else, can be carried to an extreme.
Have you ever encountered a Perpetual Pollyanna, or maybe you are one yourself? Such a characterization might be given to those who always present themselves to the world as having a charmed life. Nothing bad ever happens to them. Whenever they are asked, “How are you?” the answer is always, “I’m fine.” The practitioner of the Perpetual Pollyanna performance goes to great lengths to prevent anyone from seeing behind his/her façade, always showing up dressed in a grin like a painted clown.
No, no, no–mustn’t ever air the dirty laundry. Although this seems like a good trait, it becomes annoying when their life is always put forth as ultimate perfection, and your own has its unavoidable highs and lows.
What about the Perpetual Pollyannas themselves? Why do they behave that way? Do they think we really buy it? After all, the law of averages says that some misfortune must touch everyone. I will venture a guess. Perhaps a dose of insecurity is the driving force. The PPs might be afraid to reveal vulnerability as they fear it will be seen as a sign of weakness. Their lives are a constant competition, and they strive to be the winner, even to their own detriment. Behind their happy face may lie a river of sadness. Nevertheless, they deny themselves the healing power of sharing their pain and allowing others to comfort them.
I remember when I was a teenager, I had a schoolmate who was definitely a PP. She was very nice, pleasant, and cheerful at all times. The entire student body was shocked when she committed suicide. None of us saw it coming. Of course, no one tried to help her as nobody realized she had any problems. This syndrome is seen in some divorces where the two parties were always described as “the perfect couple.” Friends and family members can’t believe it when the split comes.
Constant complainers become tiresome, and folks start to avoid them. However, on the opposite end of the spectrum, Perpetual Pollyannas also become tiresome, and folks start to avoid them, too. Try to position yourself towards the middle of those extremes. You don’t need to wear your proverbial heart on your sleeve, but conversely, it’s not necessary to suppress every negative thing that creeps into your life. It’s unhealthy and can be harmful to you.
Running (10-30-23)
Are you a runner? I am, and it controls my life. I’m not talking about legs as part of the equation. I’m referring to running to and fro–ya know, rushing from one event to another. Every day in my calendar book is crammed full.
My own personal to and fro (aka: Type A personality) lifestyle is my default position. If I don’t step back periodically and stop myself, I am on high speed all the time. Oh, gee, I have an extra five minutes. What should I plug in here? It is a constant challenge for me to control my T & F affliction.
Many of my friends have a similar condition. Everyone is always “so busy, so busy.” No one seems to attend fully to what they’re doing at the moment, because their head is also focused on what they’re going to be doing next, with nary a space for a breath between engagements.
Why do we T & F types behave like we do? I have pondered this question frequently in my attempts to slow down; take a breather; be in the now. The best explanation I have come up with, at least for myself, is that it is a method of avoiding looking at the painful aspects of my life. We all have some of those, and everyone deals with them differently. For T & F’ers, that is their go-to method. When you overschedule and fill every waking moment, there is no time to deal with those things that cause you emotional pain. Yes, T & F‘ing is none other than a drug of choice, which just happens to be legal and socially acceptable.
Many alcoholics and drug abusers are simply self-medicating away their emotional pain. Isn’t that what T & F’ers are doing? I honed this method so long ago that it has become an ingrained habit that I’m scarcely aware of, because society never calls me out on it. That’s right! No one challenges such behavior; no one ever paints it as negative; there are no 12 step programs for it; and it is actually encouraged as few realize the downside.
For me, that liability consists of being worn out by early evening, feeling overwhelmed with my often out-of-control schedule, and never really having to deal with my hurtful emotions. If you are a T & F’er and wish to get a handle on it, here are a series of steps I’ve crafted that you can borrow:
1. Admit that you have T & F syndrome.
2. Assess whether it is taking a negative toll on your life.
3. Decide if you want to change it.
4. Make a realistic, personalized plan of action on how many activities are reasonable in a given time period: an hour, day,
week… Remember to include at-home activities such as cooking, house cleaning, or telephone chatter, as these do not
allow for mental and emotional rest time.
5. Reschedule your planned activities with the goal of allowing yourself more downtime each day.
6. Don’t cheat by multi-tasking.
7. Prioritize, and if you take on a new activity, then give up a current one. There is just so much time in the day, and you
can’t do it all.
8. Forgive yourself if you “fall off the wagon.” Each day is a clean slate, so simply start over again tomorrow.
Remember, T & F syndrome is addictive behavior. Overcoming it will take time and effort. Your progress will most likely be the proverbial two steps forward and one step back. Be patient with yourself.
On Being Publicly Shamed (10-15-23)
Have you ever been the receiver of a public shaming – that is with lots of onlookers around? I remember such behavior by some teachers toward the children in school when I was young. Unfortunately, it still exists in the grown-up world.
I was in a large class not too long ago, and a particular act I had done was singled out quite vocally by one person as an example of unacceptable conduct. Of course, all action stopped, and everyone present turned to look at me, the culprit, or at least it seemed that way in my mind. I felt humiliated and began stuttering and stammering, trying to explain my behavior, which was actually quite benign. My attempt to defend myself was quickly shut down with the reminder that we had to move on. As you can guess, I spent the rest of the time before the break upset and fuming, unable to pay attention to the classroom instruction being offered. So, what do you do in a case like that?
I had a few options. I could confront my harasser, insult him as he had insulted me, and permanently burn bridges. However, what would that yield me? We both were attending a class we enjoyed, and I would continue to encounter him week after week as we perpetuated a cold war and went out of our way to ignore each other. My new adversary might even badmouth me to others, only making the situation worse. Or, as the matter was relatively minor and probably now forgotten by most, I could simply let it go. But, what would that do for me? Since, in my opinion, I had been wrongly accused and subsequently convicted in everyone’s mind as my input was not part of the mix, I would spend the next few days beating myself up for not speaking out.
Some years ago, I made a decision that I would no longer allow anyone to mistreat me. I was going to challenge such behavior; I was not going to just let it pass, thereby enabling the perpetrator to score points on my back. So, while I was mentally ruminating and tuned out from the lesson at hand, I crafted a plan of action for the intermission. Then, I carried it out.
First, I walked up to the leader of the class, apologized for my behavior, and explained why I had done it, which had been for medical reasons. Then, I marched across the room where the perpetrator was standing. Very nicely and without malice, I told him that I had felt humiliated following his public pronouncement.
Now it was his turn to stutter and stammer; he probably hadn’t expected a retort. He said he had not meant it to be any big deal; he was just making a general point using me as an example. Nope, I was not having any of that! Regardless of his underlying motivation, I was the one who had been the communal scapegoat. I am not on this earth to be used as a prop in someone else’s drama–at least not without my permission. So, I continued my discussion with him, very calmly and without rancor, but making my point that he had no idea why I had behaved as I did, and it was not his place to be judge and jury. He apologized, and the meeting ended with us still on friendly terms–bet he doesn’t do that again.
When you need to stand up for yourself, try to formulate in advance the steps you will take so as not to act on impulse. Make sure you allow the other person to save face so that you don’t potentially end up the loser in the long run. Finally, don’t pull such public scolding behavior yourself. It is painful to others, nobody likes to be at the receiving end of it, and it will just make you enemies.
Can There Be Life without a Facelift? (10-1-23)
I went to a medical practitioner today whom I hadn’t seen in person since before the pandemic lockdown. During the meeting, I sensed something was wrong, but I couldn’t figure it out.
I became more and more disconcerted as the exam proceeded. It was not anything negative that she said. In fact, I seemed to be in good health. No, it was something strange about her. I kept staring and staring before it hit me. Her face looked visibly younger. There was the too smooth and blemish free skin with nary a wrinkle or under-eye bag in sight.
OMG, she had a facelift! This is a woman in her late 40s or early 50s who is attractive both in looks and manner. Why did she need a facelift? She, as a medical person, should know better; the potential for something to go wrong is always present with such an action. When she told me how good I looked, was she lying? Was she secretly tsk-tsking at my senior face? Was her thought actually: Get thee to a plastic surgeon, ASAP?
What makes an already successful person strive to appear younger in appearance, or “refreshed” as is used euphemistically in the biz, even at the risk of their health? I have often written on this subject in this forum (see links at end of blog). I find it sad that we are all so insecure and buy into the hype that younger is better. That’s pure bullshit! I’m more content and self-confident in my senior years than I’ve ever been. So many–too many–put a surgical fresh coat of paint on their aging bodies and hope no one will notice.
Am I the only one railing against invasive cosmetic surgery? Am I the only one who has read about the potential disasters from such procedures which can yield monster-like faces, distorted body areas, ongoing pain, and even death? Is everyone so gripped by revulsion of their aging self that they are willing to gamble with the disclaimer of, “Oh, it won’t happen to me”? Does their fervent desire to chase an elusive fantasy so outweigh their consideration of who else might be affected by potential negative outcomes such as family and friends if things don’t go according to the promise of the plastic surgeon?
Maybe the answer is that you’re now single for whatever reason and feel that you must appear younger to compete for a new mate. Or, maybe it’s a significant other in your life encouraging you to get that surgery for their own agenda such as wanting to be the envy of others by squiring around a youthful looking partner. I once met someone who had had a facelift because her husband, complete with full-on beer belly, felt it would resurrect his waning libido. Give me a break!!!
I can understand cosmetic surgery for someone grossly disfigured from birth or a serious accident. But, come on–just to appear younger? When you show up sporting a new mask that looks vaguely similar to the former you, we all know what’s going on. It doesn’t hide your insecurity.
People are being killed in this world, folks. If you have so much extra money, give it to a worthy cause, not toward a quick fix to be something you’re not. If you’ve had “work done” in the past, even if it has been peddled to you as a lifestyle and just part of your regular beauty routine, now is the time to stop it in the future.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look nice and be fashionable. However, as you age, you become more frail no matter how hard you try to wish it away. Any type of surgery and its requisite anesthesia pose threats to your well-being and life. Surgery can be life enhancing and lifesaving. As most doctors will attest, however, use it only as a last resort due to its potential risks. So, avoid elective cosmetic surgery lest the life enhancing and lifesaving aspects go astray.
Links to my prior blogs dealing with cosmetic surgery (scrolling down might be needed on some):
3-2-20: “Widgets for Sale,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2020/03/
4-29-19: “Hiding,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2019/04/
5-29-16: “You’re Fine Just the Way You Are,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2016/05/
5-13-16: “Being at the Whim of Marketers,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2016/05/
6-26-15: “Battling the Inevitability of Aging,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2015/06/
4-30-15: “If You Don’t Age Gracefully, Think of the Alternative–Yikes!” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2015/04/
Name That Cargo (9-17-23)
We humans easily become bored. We are always looking for something to entertain us. When I’m sitting at home alone eating dinner, I never just eat. Along with ingesting food, I’m always reading a magazine or book, checking my email, talking on the phone, or studying a script. Of course, when I’m with others, we form a collective entertainment committee. Each shovels down their food when someone else has the floor.
I recently took a road trip to visit family and friends. I had long stretches of driving with flat plains on both sides. Those vast, monochromatic vistas were interrupted only by crops that seemed to go on endlessly before slamming into the mountains surrounding them.
I remember a game my children used to play when they were young and we took road trips. They would spot the cars on the highways we traveled in order to find different states on their license plates. The winner was the one who could find the most states. On my current trip alone, my mind quickly made up a game. It centered around the huge transport trucks accompanying me on my journey. My challenge was to guess the cargo they were carrying.
Some of the trucks had no roofs on their trailers, and the contents were visible, peeking out from the top. I saw one after the other filled with mounds of tomatoes, thousands and thousands of them, rushing to processing plants so that you and I could score a pizza. Another truck was hauling onions, identifiable only as I got very close and could see the small orbs in what had appeared as solid white from afar. My favorite was the one crammed with melons--yum!
Of course, there were lorries with roofs and solid sides. Hmmm, what might they contain? I took clues from the writings and pictures on them to guess at the contents. One from a winery most likely contained grapes. When the outsides themselves offered no hints, I made up scenarios. There are no rules to this game. Only the imagination prevails.
When you find yourself becoming bored, survey your nearby surroundings. Make up your own games: What’s in the truck? How many trees can I count in five minutes? Where is everybody going?
There’s never a reason to be bored. All kinds of interesting things are within your view, your hearing range, and any other sense you use to interact with your environment. Create your own diversion. It’s free and can be a lot of fun.
Covid and Me (9-3-23)
Well, I’d managed to dodge the Covid bullet throughout the 3 1/2 years since the lockdown–until now. Yep, I woke up last week thinking I was just very tired. It never dawned on me that I might have Covid. I tried to shake it off and go about my daily business. However, that weakness settled over me, and all I seemed to crave was jumping into bed and sleeping.
I finally took a Covid test and then took a second one because I didn’t believe the first one. How could I have Covid? I am invulnerable. But there it was, those two little lines staring at me. How, when, and where did I contract this dreaded disease of the decade?
I had returned only a few days earlier from a long road trip. Maybe it was somewhere along the way that I encountered someone or several someone’s breathing in my direction and letting loose a volley of Covid molecules which eventually settled inside of me. Perhaps it occurred after my return home, somewhere in my own ‘hood, where someone did the same. Of course, it’s impossible to know. And even if I were able to figure it out, what difference would it make? Here I am laid low with this inconvenient, albiet temporary–I hope–condition.
All of my plans and regular daily activities have been put on hold. Everything stops when you have Covid. Now, I’m back to the lockdown routine we all became so familiar with a few years ago. I have to isolate at home lest I infect someone else; I have to isolate at home so I can get better; I have to isolate at home…
The difference between now and then are the miracle drugs humanity has discovered. I’ve been vaccinated, boosted, boosted, boosted, and boosted. I recently finished a five-day course of Paxlovid, that wonder medication to help my body fight back. Yes, I am willing to endure its side effects such as an odd taste in my mouth. That is mild compared to the destruction Covid is able to wrought. And, yes, I am back to wearing a mask if I do find myself near another human.
Today’s version is not the Covid of old that we so feared. I’ve never once thought that I would have to be hospitalized, put on a ventilator, and could die. No, the new Covid is more like a mild to moderate case of the flu. Nevertheless, it has clipped my wings. I don’t like it one bit, and I am disheartened when I see that second line show up on my Covid test each day. Yes, it’s taking longer and longer to appear, but there it is, edging in just under the 15 minute time limit–drat.
I’m ready for this to be over! I’m ready to move along with my life. I have places to go, people to see, and things to do. Covid is a roadblock that cramps my style. I feel guilty, complaining when millions have died. Nevertheless, it feels good to rant. I hate it when my lifestyle is interrupted, especially by something as tiny as a virus. Begone, I say! Get the hell away from me, I say! I’m done with you, Covid!
So, take care all. May you have a Covid free rest of your summer. But be prepared, nevertheless, as it could happen to anyone.
Confrontation Vs. Retreat (8-20-23)
When something uncomfortable, distasteful, or intimidating is suddenly thrust in our path, there are two main choices one can make. You can duck your head, retreat, and try to forget it, letting fate be the sole arbitrator of the issue. Or, you can confront the matter which will often cause anxiety and sleepless nights before and after you act. Unless you are in physical danger, the choice that will likely work out best for you is most often the latter. Confrontation or facing the matter full on, shaking though you may be, will let you take charge of your position, feelings, and all the other factors making the issue so unsettling to you, and you won't be left carrying around those self-flagellating, I-should-have-said thoughts.
Traditional Maori warriors of New Zealand would make a face and stick out their tongues in a menacing manner when confronting enemies. They tried to present as fierce and frightening an appearance as possible with the hopes of gaining the upper hand in the conflict.
Win or lose, you will feel gratified that you stood your ground, had your say, and used your voice. You did not shrink away with your proverbial tail between your legs. That feels good!
We all become anxious over the idea of confronting something that another or many others oppose. We're worried about consequences that may harm us. All the "what ifs" kick in:
What if he/she never speaks to me again!
What if I'm fired!
What if I'm ostracized by the group, class, tribe, world...!
Those "what ifs" are powerful and do serve a purpose. They cause us to weigh our actions, which is a good thing. If everyone in the world went off "half-cocked" during every interaction, we would live in continual chaos. However, the "what ifs" have a flip side. They can be crippling, preventing us from a course of conduct which might be healthy or beneficial to our own well-being--physical, mental, and/or emotional.
Consider, and then act with your needs as part of the mix. Retreat if that is the prudent course. But, confront when appropriate, even if it's scary to do so. You will be the winner.
Wrinkles Are Beautiful! (8-2-23)
Who defines what is ugly? Although that adjective can be applied to all walks of life, what about when it is directed toward human beings--specifically seniors?
How did aging and the physical signs of it become defined as unattractive? Why is the appearance of youth considered so much more desirable?
Too many seniors look in the mirror with disgust. They see OMG: wrinkles, flab, age spots, gray hair, and other signs of a normal process. Then, they look away in revulsion. This sickness is an equal opportunity malaise; it affects both sexes as they age. Although women seem to talk and do more about it, men are catching up fast.
How sad for us in that age demographic. Must we go through our "golden years" secretly despising ourselves? Can we choose to alter our point of view? Can we "age gracefully" as we've heard so much about but have no idea how to do?
Yes, of course we can. It is not mandatory or even necessary to buy into the current hype of: younger is better. We can pity the celebrities who appear and reappear looking "refreshed" when we only have to google their names to find out their awful secret: their real age.
We don’t need to chase the snake oil purveyors who promise us youth while charging outrageous amounts to work their sorcery. This may even involve putting our health and even our lives in danger by invasive procedures, all in a futile attempt to pretend we are younger. I've written often on this topic. Whenever I meet a senior who is obsessing about their aging appearance, it motivates me to tackle the matter once again.
Are you really going to spend the rest of your precious years as a recluse because you don't dare show your older face in public? Are you able to discipline your mind to make your own decisions rather than having them made for you by the media and popular culture? Dare you change your outlook to embrace yourself as beautiful, regardless of the stage of life in which you find yourself?
That is my challenge to you. Yes, I challenge you to find happiness and contentment, which starts with accepting and loving yourself exactly as you are without the need for ongoing, external tweaks.
Hula (7-21-23)
How do we know when something will grab us? How do we find that passion we keep searching for? Well, there are many ways to go about it. Today, I’ll discuss one method: pure, dumb luck.
I realized that I was not getting enough exercise, but lying on the floor at home and doing a bunch of leg lifts or sit ups was just too boring. Working out at the gym was a close second. Yes, I went on occasional walks and even hikes, but those were periodic–sandwiched into time between other activities.
An acquaintance mentioned that she belonged to the Hula Club at my retirement community. I’d seen hula performed over the years, and it looked pretty but not something that beckoned to me. I didn’t even know if I could do it because it is danced barefoot, and I have some foot issues.
“Come to the class, and just watch,” she encouraged me.
So, for the sake of pursuing some body toning, I finally squeezed it into my calendar. Nothing prepared me for the hula vortex that grabbed me and sucked me in. I was indeed able to do the slow, controlled, foot movements, and the music was mesmerizing.
I am enjoying the dicipline of learning the routines and moving in cadence with the other dancers. It's kind of like hula drill team. I'm also improving on making my motions smooth versus the choppy I started out with.
Cherry one on the sundae is that my energy level has improved noticeably. Cherry two is that the class doesn’t just dance in the studio, they actually perform around our community onstage in front of live audiences, which is something I love to do.
I can’t believe how much of my life I am now devoting to hula. I’ve rearranged my entire schedule so that I can attend class twice per week, 2 1/2 hours per class. That doesn’t even account for all of it. There is the time spent at home practicing new dances to the videos the instructor makes in class. There is the time devoted to purchasing and altering my beautiful dance costumes. (That’s me in the photo wearing one.) There is the time for rehearsals at the event venues and the actual performances which we present several times a year. And, still, I can’t get enough of hula.
Who knew that Hawaiian dancing would become an addiction? I certainly didn’t. That was not the plan when I started; I just wanted an occasional, physical workout.
Are you are looking for something exciting, stimulating, or purposeful? Try lots of different activities, even those that are not your usual go-to types. Throw that pot of spaghetti against the wall. You might be surprised at what sticks.
Forgiving Yourself (7-7-23)
In my last post, I briefly mentioned forgiving yourself. Several readers contacted me suggesting a deeper discussion. So, I am devoting an entire blog to the subject.
The act of forgiveness is usually thought of as involving two sides. It might be individuals, groups, or even large institutions. “A” does something offensive to “B,” and “B” forgives “A.” However, that scenario can also be played out within ourselves.
It’s been said that we are our own worst critics. We get down on ourselves easily when we don’t meet our personal, self-imposed expectations. Such self-castigation can play on an endless loop and morph into low self-esteem and eventually depression.
Often, we carry those negative seeds from childhood. Someone or many someones in our past may have overtly or covertly conveyed to us that we are lacking and will never amount to much. These could have been parents, teachers, peers, or anyone else in our sphere. So, we spend the next decades of our lives proving them wrong by striving to excel in whatever our chosen pursuits may be. Unfortunately, in a bizarre twist, many just step into the shoes of their former tormentors and change the script into self-reprimand.
Some religions address the problem with formulaic, ritualistic acts of confession and contrition in which forgiveness is the endgame such as the Catholic Church’s confessional. Some governments have ceremonial forgiveness events such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission held by South Africa in 1996 after the end of apartheid.
What do we do if those options are not available to us for whatever reasons? How do we give ourselves permission to err as all human beings do? How do we forgive ourselves? It’s a tough question, and it’s so hard to do for so many. We hold ourselves to impossibly high standards and then judge ourselves as failures when we do not meet them.
Letting yourself become weighed down in self-loathing is completely unproductive. It may manifest in such behaviors as anger, withdrawal, isolation, and the like. If you have significant others in your life, your moods splash onto them which only serves to draw spouses/partners, children, parents, and friends into your misery. Is that really what you want?
When you make a mistake, how about trying to cut yourself a little slack, just as you do with others? Don’t you deserve such treatment like everyone else? Start by being a friend to yourself rather than an enemy combatant. When you make a mistake, notice it, learn from it, forgive yourself, and move on. The goal is to keep pressing forward. I’ve spoken frequently in this forum about being kind to others. You must also remember to be kind to yourself.
The Hidden Part of the Iceberg (6-23-23)
It’s easy to be critical of others. We tend to judge them by their exterior packaging, and we do it in the first few minutes of meeting them.
Ninety percent of icebergs are hidden below the waterline; we only see the top ten percent which is exposed. The same is probably true of humans. It requires getting to know them to learn what is hiding in their submerged part.
A few years ago, I was somewhat offended by another member in a class I was attending. I felt uncomfortable whenever she came over to talk to me, because she stood too close, invading the social distance expected in our society. I began to avoid her to the point of being a bit rude if she would approach.
Some months later, I found myself working on a special project which included this classmate. It was only then that I found out she has a significant hearing problem. She stood close to everyone to be able to understand them better. I felt ashamed of myself for my prior behavior. To make amends, I went out of my way to be nice to her and helped explain things when she couldn’t hear them. You should have seen her blossom. She was so grateful for my attention. My guess is that she is often rebuffed by others. I’m sure she has no idea why.
Another incident occurred in a different setting where someone mentioned a new neighbor. In my effort to figure out who she was, I made a dismissive remark about her hair, trying to clarify in my mind who we were talking about. The person to whom I was speaking commented, “You know, she has multiple sclerosis?” Again, I was ashamed of myself. That handicapped woman probably has enough trouble just dressing herself let alone fixing her hair in a style that might suit the likes of me.
I really get down on myself when I behave in a cruel manner toward others. I don’t want to be like that. Usually, I do it without thinking and certainly without the goal of inflicting hurt. I guess the word for such action is “thoughtless.” Yes, thoughtlessness can be painful to others, and most of us have been at the receiving end of it, too.
It’s important to realize that everyone has shortcomings including ourselves. Strive to be a better person; forgive yourself for occasional stumbles; and keep on trying.
Mini-Diminutions (6-9-23)
A diminution is the act of becoming gradually less in such things as size or importance. It is the noun form of the verb: to diminish. Have you ever experienced a mini-diminution as a result of someone else’s act or statement? Perhaps you have been the archer behind such an arrow.
Mini-diminution is a term I’ve coined which might be viewed as a cousin to micro-aggression. However, the latter usually has a stigmatized or culturally marginalized group as its target. Nevertheless, both are subtle techniques to dismiss or bring down others, whether overt or covert. People engage in such acts to burst the balloon of, rain on the parade of, or any other way you can describe the effect of such behavior on its victim. This tactic has an endgame of hurting another’s feelings. It could be set in motion by some perceived insult, jealousy, or a myriad of other negative feelings toward the target or even toward a much larger group with the current scapegoat chosen at random.
Recently, I was at a friend’s dinner party, and people were just chatting at the table before the food was served. When I was speaking to the group, another member quickly turned to the person next to him and begin a private, side conversation. That action in a gathering so small made my conversation difficult due to the increased noise-level and distraction. I passed it off, not thinking much about it, although I was a bit irritated. However, when it happened a second time, I pondered whether it was deliberate in order to discount my importance.
Another example happened to me several years ago. I have some antiques in my house as I am partial to them. I invited several family members over to see my new home. During the course of the afternoon, a cousin commented to me loud enough for others to hear, “You know, I’ve never really cared for antiques.” Interesting, as I don’t recall asking her for an opinion on the matter. Yup, another mini-diminution had just landed on me.
Such comments are so subtle that it’s hard to even realize it’s happening never mind confronting the hurler. If you should manage to collect your composure in a timely manner and question the speaker about his/her motivation, you might get a response such as: I didn’t mean anything by it; What are you talking about? or some other such denial.
Why do people perfect the art of the put down? I’ve written on this subject previously in this forum. (Click here and scroll down to read my blog of July 11, 2018, “The Passive-Aggressive Jab.” Click here and scroll down to read my blog of April 1, 2019, “Put-Down Humor.”) Although I wrote those blog posts several years ago, the behavior is alive and well today. People think that by diminishing another, they will raise themselves up–fuzzy math to my mind. If you feel low and don’t think much of yourself, putting somebody else down is not going to do it.
The sadder one here is the slinger more than the slingee. Slingers, rather than enjoying their own lives, spend a great deal of their time nursing angry feelings. Someone has always “done them wrong,” and they fixate on honing payback methods. My only message to such folks is to knock it off and spend your energy on enhancing your own life. The other is just too tiresome for all involved.
Do We Betray the Dead by Choosing to Live? (5-26-23)
I have a friend who was widowed some years ago. She and her husband had been married for several decades when he died. She felt intense grief after his passing and was depressed for a long time. She couldn’t escape the emptiness in their home with signs of him everywhere: the furniture they bought together; his aftershave lotion on the counter next to the bathroom sink; his slippers in the closet. She could barely function for well over a year.
We are all felled by a close death whether it be a spouse, parent, child, friend, other significant person, or even a pet. Grieving is a necessary first step in the healing process.
My aforementioned friend eventually started to venture out–slowly at first. When she found herself forgetting about her husband briefly while enjoying herself in the company of others, she felt guilty. So, she isolated again for many months.
Victorian era custom had widows dressing in all black “widow’s weeds” for long periods of time, even the rest of their lives, after the demise of their husbands. It was probably due to the influence of Queen Victoria who did so for the forty years she lived after the passing of her husband, Prince Albert, in 1861.
Is that custom life affirming or pathological? Is it a betrayal of a deceased spouse or significant other to want to go on with your life? What about dating? Is it okay to want to partner up again?
There are no rules here, even though some individuals or institutions attempt to impose them. That is only a power grab on their part over vulnerable people gripped by anguish. After the sorrow dissipates, a normal occurrence which may take months or years, humans eventually get tired of self-imposed isolation. It is natural, healthy and imperative to reach out to others; to begin to spread your wings; to craft a positive, joyous life for yourself.
If you are in such a situation, you must consider an important question: Do you want to live? You are not a bad person to choose life no matter which route you take: socializing, dating, remarrying, seeking a job or returning to a career, exploring new pursuits… You can still do so in conjunction with remembering and missing your departed one. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Losing Your Independence (5-11-23)
As we age, things that used to be easy to do become more difficult. Our bodies don’t function as well; our brains don’t remember like they used to; our abilities diminish in general. We gradually begin to find some tasks harder and harder. That may reach a crisis point where we have to give up certain activities and pursuits.
One of the most difficult losses is the operation of an automobile. Cars offer their drivers incredible independence. People can come and go as they please. However, when you no longer have the quick reflexes and reaction time necessary to operate a motor vehicle safely, it is imperative that you stop doing so. Such a driver becomes a serious hazard to themselves and others.
Many seniors are unable to assess or refuse to accept when their give-it-up time comes. That often requires some significant person or entity making the decision: children, doctors, courts, etc. It may not go smoothly, and there is the possibility of hurt feelings all around. Nevertheless, count yourself lucky that you have caring people in your life who are willing to devote the time and energy to insuring your welfare; not everyone has that as they age. If you’re in the latter category, set things in place now while you can so you’ll have the care you need if and when it becomes necessary rather than burying your head in the proverbial sand with an it’ll-never-happen-to-me attitude.
What about living independently? Sometimes that becomes unsafe as we age and become more infirm. Things in the household can pose a danger such as bathing or operating a stove. Again, seniors often resist the idea of moving into a facility such as an assisted living home, where they might get help with basic chores.
Even walking can be fraught with danger if your body is not cooperative with all that the act of ambulation entails. Seniors tend to fall more frequently than they did when they were younger and more agile. Yet, so many resist assistive devices such as canes or walkers, because it is the mark of being old. Only after they fall and break their hip or other bones are they willing to consider such alternatives. By then, the damage is done.
We’ve all heard that well-known adage credited to 1940s movie actress Bette Davis: “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.” Yes, it’s a rough road. However, we have no choice but to proceed forward, weathering whatever obstacles come our way in the aging process. Do your best to adapt, and seek out other activities or alternatives that will help you lead a satisfying, quality life, regardless of the fact that it is different from what you’re used to.
You may not be able to drive a car, but you can take a bus or a ride share service such as Uber or Lyft. You may not be able to cook for yourself, but you can order meals delivered or buy pre-prepared meals–senior programs will deliver meals to your door ready to be heated up and eaten. You may no longer be able to run that marathon you did when you were younger, but you can take a walk in your neighborhood or in a wilderness area. (I’ve written on this topic before in this forum. Click here and scroll down to read my blog of April 2, 2018, “A Hitch in Your Gitalong,” and here to read my blog of June 26, 2015, “Battling the Inevitability of Aging.”)
There are many alternatives to aid you in living an active and fulfilling life. Don’t be embarrassed to use them just because they may be the sign of getting old.
Senior Orphans (4-28-23)
An orphan is one whose parents have died. Probably the most famous orphan in literature is "Oliver Twist," written by Charles Dickens in 1837. We usually think of orphans as children. However, you can become an orphan at any age.
The same feelings of being orphaned occur whether it’s your biological parents who have passed or the parental figures in your life: stepparents, foster parents, mentors, or anyone else in that category.
Even seniors can become orphans. No matter how elderly, frail, or infirm one's parents become, there's still that feeling that we have someone to lean on if we need it. The truth, of course, if that they've been leaning on us as they have declined. However, we don't even realize it. My son who is in his fifties and a fully successful and proficient husband, father, and career person, can still dash off that kid's whine: "Mommmmm" when he wants something, and I'm being resistant.
If you were fortunate enough to have your parents survive into your own senior years, it’s still a shock and trauma when they die. Suddenly, that force that has been such a major player in your life is gone. That feeling of vulnerability, being lost, and not having them to rely on hits you no matter your age, confidence, or degree of sophistication.
When your parents and the other family members in their generation have all died, you suddenly find yourself unwillingly pushed into a new role. You now belong to the oldest living generation in your family. It’s often an uncomfortable place to be with its huge weight of responsibility.
You are looked up to, revered, and counted upon for wisdom, even if you don’t feel so wise all the time. How overwhelming it might seem to hold such a position in life. Nevertheless, don't forget that you are lucky to have such a role. Not all seniors do.
We seniors must practice good habits so we can stay strong and healthy for the younger generations who rely on us. It’s a tall task, but we’re up to it. Play it with the most competence you can muster. They are depending on you.
The Importance of Material "Stuff" (4-12-23)
How important are material objects in our lives? They do, indeed, make the passing days more pleasant by offering assistance, comfort, and status. But, how does this “stuff” hold up against our interpersonal relationships?
We often observe young children bickering over toys to the point of physical violence. They hold their blocks, dolls, and gizmos close so the other kids in the sandbox can’t claim them as their own. We usually assume that they will grow out of such behavior. Sometimes they do, and sometimes…
My family lore contains a story about my great aunt and her sister-in-law by marriage. I’m not sure I’ve ever met either, although I have a vague recollection of the blood relative when I was young.
As the accounting goes, these two women had been close friends for many years. One day, after lunching together, they were strolling down the street and came upon a jewelry store. In the window was a sign offering free jewelry cleaning. Both women sported from their respective husbands of many years a fairly new, impressive, diamond wedding ring which had replaced their old, not so grand ones.
Our heroines decided what a great idea it would be to get their rings cleaned, so they walked in. The jeweler took the two items and put them into the cleaning machine. After the requisite amount of time, he returned the proffered rings all shiny and sparkly.
One of our actors looked at the ring she had been handed and said that it was the wrong ring–hers was the other one. Her soon-to-become opponent said that wasn’t so, and that she had been given her correct ring. A back-and-forth ensued, which turned into a full-fledged argument. The latter refused to exchange the rings, insisting her own property had been returned to her. This escalated into a major rift between the two women, never to be healed for the rest of their lives.
Have you had arguments over your material possessions? Are they so precious to you that you would sacrifice a close personal relationship over them? I guess if you plan to take the items to your grave with you as did the ancient Egyptian pharaohs in order to ensure a comfortable, luxurious stretch in the afterlife, then maybe such a sacrifice might be worth it. If not, perhaps you need to reevaluate what is truly important in your current life.
One Man's Kitsch is Another Man's Objet d'Art (3-29-23)
We each have our own sense of taste when it comes to what is or is not appealing. Ancient philosophers, both from the Greek and Roman eras, discussed and fixated on the nature of aesthetic properties. Leonardo da Vinci sketched "Vitruvian Man" as the ideal proportions for a human body. Nevertheless, beauty remains a matter of intense debate.
Today, we have contests to highlight who or what is the most perfect. There are beauty pageants for humans, dog shows for pooches, museums to house what is judged to be the best of the arts, and on and on.
We common folk also have our tastes. Just look around your neighborhood to see how people decorate their abodes. Most houses might be painted in gentle pastels, but there is that one in a garish, blaring hue. Although some might be outraged by it, the owner thinks it's stunning.
Many years ago, I visited Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley. The guide told us that Elvis had not used a decorator but had made his own decisions on the furnishing of the mansion. My opinion: It's amazing how someone with a lot of money and no taste can decorate. Elvis' opinion: Isn't it magnificent!
Where I live and in many similar, residential locations around the country, some seem to think it enhances the neighborhood to put out what they see as ornamental objects such as plastic flowers, small windmills, round glass balls, and the like. You can find these "decorations" suspended from trees, lining paths, hung from doors, and all other manner of locations. There are those I find to be a turnoff--kitsch to my eye. Maybe some find the flower pots outside of my front door the same.
It's hard to come to common agreement on taste. We are each the result of different influences and backgrounds. Yet, we must get along. If someone shows irritation at your choice for public display, maybe you might relocate the object into your own personal residence. That way you can admire it without offending others. If you don't care for that suggestion, I invite you to enjoy the pink, plastic flamingo I'm thinking of installing in my front yard.
Overscheduling (3-16-23)
Are you addicted to overscheduling, or do you know someone who is? Yes, we all seek out interesting things to do. Sometimes, what we find may be time sensitive, such as plays and exhibits, which may end by a certain date. Other times, we may be invited to an event that is a one-off.
It’s tempting to cram too many things into a single day. An overscheduler’s mindset might go something like this: Let’s see, if I set my dentist appointment in the morning, I can attend that concert in the afternoon and have enough time to make it to my aunt’s 95th birthday celebration dinner where I’ll stay for an hour and still be able to arrive just a little late to that club party I don’t want to miss. This is an extreme example, but it’s not far off from how many people live their lives.
Frenetic overscheduling short changes your focus or enjoyment of individual activities. Rather than steeping yourself in the moment, you are constantly checking your watch to make sure you wrap it up so as to get to the upcoming number on your dance card.
Much of your time is wasted just in travel alone from one appearance to the next. Then, of course, there is the question of your energy level. Those present at your final destination get to interact with the tired, irritable, and impatient version of you.
I had a friend years ago who was the master of overscheduling. She never seemed able to pay much attention to what was going on at the time as she was usually thinking about what was coming next. When I tried to confront her about this, she became defensive and angry. This is how she was used to structuring her life, and she wasn’t planning on changing, even if it meant that she never fully enjoyed anything.
I’ve also had situations where someone has bailed out at the last minute on an invitation to visit me because they were just too tired from their earlier activities that day. Oh yes, they were so sorry and hoped I would understand, but the upshot was that they left me hanging, and my plans were ruined. Never mind the time, energy, and effort I had expended preparing for our get-together: cleaning the house, arranging for food, getting myself ready, a reduced amount of attendees from what I had decided was the right number, and on and on.
When people pull behavior like the aforementioned examples, they establish a reputation for themselves. Then they wonder why friends stop inviting them.
Don’t be a chronic overscheduler. Follow through with your commitments, and arrive rested and able to engage wholeheartedly with those whom you encounter. Allow plenty of decompression time in your schedule before embarking on the next happening. It will help you enjoy those that you do attend so much more.
The Peril of Laziness (3-1-23)
We've all experienced it: laziness. It seems to get worse as we age, especially when we don't have children screaming for out immediate attention, a job to report to on time, and all sorts of other obligations of our younger adulthood. We might drift into ennui, findint it hard to be self motivating.
It becomes easier and easier to sleep late—very late, to pad around your pad in robe and slippers all day, or to avoid going out—too much trouble. Sitting in front of the television set, trolling the internet, checking your email, or even reading a book for hours becomes your routine.
Be careful of that, folks. It can sneak up and take over your life without your even realizing it. The pandemic lockdown proved to be very bad psychologically. Staying at home became a habit--a lifestyle. Now that the extreme danger has passed, it’s hard to break that habit.
There’s nothing wrong with slowing down after a lifetime of pressure, stress, and obligations. But, solitary, at-home activities as a steady diet can lead to isolation, dissatisfaction, malaise, and even agoraphobia. We may find ourselves making excuses:
“My body needs a lot of sleep.”
“I’m entitled to some leisure after all the years I worked.”
“People just don’t understand me.”
“These are the things I like to do.”
Make sure you stay engaged with reality and other humans for your own well-being. Don’t turn on the TV until after dinner. Limit your book/magazine reading to small parameters. Cut down on that computer time. As amazing as it might seem, your electronic devices do have “off” buttons; use them! (Read my blog of March 18, 2015 which provides easy instructions on how to turn off those addictive devices: “Disconnect from Your Technology,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2015/03.)
Find outside activities that stimulate you, and make commitments to be there, help out, lead groups, etc. Commitments are motivators to get up, get out, and embrace life. Have something to do at least every other day that will give you an incentive to leave your abode. It could be as simple as a shopping trip to the grocery store. Once outside, you’ll feel renewed and energized.
It’s hard, especially when just the acts of personal hygiene and getting dressed seem to be such an effort. However, as a very wise teacher once told my class, “If it’s hard, do it anyway!”
Seeking Prince/Princess Charming (2-13-23)
Ah, Valentine’s Day is here again. That means that a special someone will bestow upon us a present as a gesture of his/her love of wonderful us? Or, does it?
Everyone is looking for the perfect partner. Does such an ideal exist? For a few lucky ones, the answer may be yes. However, for the majority of us, the reality is that no human being with all of their imperfections and foibles can meet all of the needs of another.
The only thing one can do is reduce expectations and compromise, or go without partnering. Neither choice is the ideal, but it is hoped that the seeker will find some modicum of happiness.
Many have filtered through numerous potential candidates and eventual partners, always looking for the better one just around the corner. Online dating sites have made this churning speedier and more efficient. However, the constant testing and discarding these sites enable prove wearisome and disappointing.
The truth is that finding your own Prince/Princess Charming is most likely a pipe dream. It always amazes me when some man complete with beer belly and bad breath posts his ideal candidate as young, slender, and attractive, or an unkempt woman seeks a fit, good looking, financially stable man. What planet are these people living on? And, are those the traits that will guarantee you compatibility and happiness together?
If you are seeking a perfect mate, stop fantasizing and realize that all of us are only human. After all, are you the perfect Prince or Princess Charming? Probably not, unless you stepped out of a book of fairy tales.
Stability (2-1-23)
What is stability? One definition: restoration to the original state after knocked off equilibrium.
Stability can be a factor in many different areas of our lives. Financial stability means that we have enough money to meet our needs and enjoy a comfortable life. Emotional stability is when our thoughts are on an even enough keel to yield happiness and contentment. Physical stability happens when our balance is such that we can move with confidence of not falling. Spiritual stability occurs when we have settled on a faith or belief system that provides comfort to us. Cultural stability means that we are part of a group with shared behaviors and pursuits. Social stability is when our institutions provide a secure framework in which we can function successfully. Global stability comes about when the world's countries have a working relationship which provides for the benefit of all inhabitants of our planet.
Why is stability important? Because, when we are trapped in its opposite: chaos, we are thrown into a constant state of agitation, uncertainty, and fear. Such a condition contributes to ongoing misery, a horrible way to live.
Some people seem to "roll with the punches" no matter what life hands them. Why is that? Part of the answer probably has to do with their inherent nature. However, another contributor might be that they grew up in relative stability in the aforementioned areas and are better able to weather life's storms as adults. None of us makes it through unscathed; we all encounter disruptions as the years pass. A solid foundation and ongoing framework of stability leads to a better outcome after the hurricane is spent.
No country or institution has figured out a way to provide continuous and complete stability to its inhabitants or members. As with so many things, each group sits somewhere on a continuum from high to low. Their stability depends on many considerations: leaders, followers, environmental factors, the advancement of time, and the like.
Stability can change in an instant. Don't take it for granted! Identify those things that create stability in your life, seek them out, nurture them, and cherish them. You will have a happier and probably longer life if you do.
La Repetición (1-18-23)
We were a group of adults at a community Spanish class. We had come to know each other well–kind of like a club–as we continued to attend semester after semester. There was a great deal of camaraderie among the students.
We referred to each other by a Spanish version of our name. Rose was Rosa; Ernest was Ernesto; Charles was Carlos; and Roberta was the same but with a Spanish accent. Then there was me: Lee Gale. No Spanish equivalent worked for my oxymoronish name, so I remained simply: Lee Gale. Oh, well.
Studying a language requires memorization of a seemingly endless list of vocabulary words. Our patient, steadfast teacher, Carol Betti, would always listen to our whines and bellyaches that went something like: It’s so hard; how do you remember all those words? She always responded patiently with her secret sauce: “la repetición.”
Yes, if you want to learn something well, the only way to do it is to repeat it and repeat it. In Spanish, it’s called: repetición. Here in the homeland, we call it practice, which is just repetition on steroids. Skill comes from doing the same thing over and over until it becomes automatic and effortless.
Our role models are those at the apex of their fields whether it be ballet dancers, computer techies, athletes, or construction workers. No one starts out at the top of their game. The ones who excel and rise to that level are the ones who review continually.
I’ve recently been cast in an amazing play! I feel very fortunate to have been chosen. However, one of my monologues is exceptionally challenging. Although we do have open scripts for part of the play, I’m required to memorize this particular passage. It’s been a real test, often frustrating and agonizing. I’ve thought frequently of la repetición as I slog my way through. It has helped me persevere. For weeks, each night after I crawl in bed, I have gone over the lines in my mind before falling asleep. Each morning after I wake up, I have done the same. Eureka! I have finally mastered that beast, and it feels great!
Do you strive to become proficient at a particular pursuit? If so, you must put in the time, energy, and effort towards that goal. There is no work around–no free lunch. However, if it’s something you really, really want, the satisfaction, accolades, or financial gain will make it worthwhile. Just remember to use the technique recommended decades ago by my very wise, Spanish teacher: la repetición.
A Sense of Community (1-4-23)
Over the recent holidays, I took a car trip with my son. Wow, I had him all to myself without his family competing for his attention. Our halfway point was going to be a visit to my cousin and her husband where we would stay for a few days. We planned to do our laundry there. Shortly before our arrival, my cell phone rang.
“Bad news, Lee Gale, we both have Covid.”
Whoops, all of our plans had to turn on a dime. That’s an old fashion expression meaning an immediate segue to Plan B, which we hadn’t even formulated. We managed to find a hotel–thank you Internet–near another destination on our itinerary.
The next day, son went to visit friends, while I stayed behind, having volunteered to do our laundry. The hotel clerk directed me to a community laundromat a few blocks away. Dragging my rolling suitcase–thank you to whoever invented that–I pulled our dirty duds behind me.
Upon arrival, I realized I hadn’t used a public laundry facility for decades, and I wasn’t sure how it worked. My last time, I think I put a quarter in a slot. I walked in and found a bustle of humans, all dealing with walls of endless washers and dryers. The noisy machines were sloshing, whirling, or tumbling their contents. I approached an empty one with a puzzled look on my face. It seemed equipped to accept a plastic card, but not my type of credit card.
A thirtyish, hefty man came to my rescue. He explained the difference between the regular and the extra large washing machines, the latter meant for double loads. He showed me how to put my money into a pay slot in the wall to get a “wash card” and how to insert it in my washing machine of choice. He also watched over as I poured in the soap I had brought, advising me when it was enough. Finally, he tutored me on how the dryer worked, and that my wash card must be inserted first before I chose the temperature. With a little practice, I gained confidence and competency, loading my washer and controlling it with my wash card without a second thought. I returned to my benefactor.
“Oh, thank you so much. You’ve been such a big help. What’s your name?”
“It’s Hector, ma’am.”
“It’s nice to meet you Hector. My name is Lee Gale.”
Hector, my sweet bear of an angel, left the premises after retrieving his own laundry from a dryer. I’m sure I’ll never see Hector again, but he sure did make my day. He asked for nothing and only wanted to help a fellow human being. I saw other “regulars” mentoring “newbies” like me, too. This modern laundromat is not so different from when our ancestors washed their clothes at the riverbank, chatting and gossiping as they worked. Lifelong friendships are forged that way.
What had started out as an anticipated, dull chore, turned into an experience of warmth, support, and camaraderie–a real sense of belonging. Yes, a community can be established anywhere over a shared goal. It only takes caring, supportive folks whose aim is to get a foothold, become productive members, and pass their knowledge along to the next guy.
Shared meals are uplifting and bonding for humans. They offer more than just food for the stomach; they also provide nourishment for the soul.
As a child, my extended family had large, multi-generational gatherings, especially around special events or holidays. I played with my cousins before we all sat down to a wonderful lunch or dinner. Those happenings were full of warmth and joy. We children felt cared for, safe, and loved.
Today, so many of the attendees at those special occasions are no longer alive. What I once took for granted–I thought it would always be so–is just a memory now. Parents, aunts and uncles, and some cousins live on only in my thoughts, photographs, and discussions with those still here.
How did that happen? Why wasn’t I paying closer attention? Why didn’t I learn more from the last generation when I had the chance? Maybe some of that time fooling around with my cousins could have been devoted to picking the brains of my elders. Today, there are so many unanswered questions I have about my family history. Those who once could have explained them are no longer available to do so.
My son is now very interested in learning about his ancestors. He questions me, and we look at family pictures and memorabilia together. I do my best, but often I don’t have a response to many of his inquiries. I am fortunate to have a personal autobiography written by my mother. She worked on it diligently when she was in her final years and gave it to my sister and me just months before she died. My son has devoured it. I have made copies for cousins who love to read about their own parents in my mother’s account.
My memoir about attending a senior acting class and performing onstage with my father when he was 85 and I was 60 was originally started just for my family. When it was completed, I chose to publish it for public consumption under the title: Adventures with Dad: A Father and Daughter’s Journey Through a Senior Acting Class. My son cherishes that book, too. He was so excited when I was composing it, that he wrote the foreword.
I am now a member of the oldest living generation in my family. My children are grown and have children of their own–my grandchildren. The young ones soon run off to play when I try to discuss their great-grandparents and all the rest whom they hardly knew or didn’t know at all. It’s more interesting to amuse themselves with the newest toy or pet than to hear about a bunch of deceased relatives.
“Children will be children,” as the saying goes. They don’t realize that things end. But, one day they may wonder about their family history. So, leave the information for them however you can. You might write a memoir or autobiography just for the family or pay a professional ghostwriter to do it for you. Maybe someone can interview you while recording it on an electronic device as one cousin did with my great uncle. Although he had resided in the United States for decades, he started his recollection from when he was a child living in a village in Russia. Now, how incredible is that!
Find some way to save the story of your family for future generations. Without a doubt, they will come seeking it once they tire of their toys and pets.
Braids, Inkwells, and Romance--Oh, My! (12-9-23)
Today’s blog is my take on a subject suggested by one of my readers: braids and inkwells.
How do we connect with others, especially potential intimate partners? When we are attracted to somebody, how do we let them know?
There is the old cliché of the boy sitting behind the girl in elementary school and dipping the ends of her braids into the inkwell on his desk. Yes, that’s how a young male might have shown his affection for a young female a century ago. At least it’s a step-up from caveman days of yore where whacking your potential main squeeze over the head with a club was supposedly the preferred method.
Inkwells were common place in the early 1900s but fell out of favor by the 1940s. Vessels to hold liquid ink for writing, they were originally used with dip pens to coat the tip with the ink. In the early 19th century, dip pens had replaced quill or reed pens, but they in turn were replaced by fountain pens in the late 19th century. Here’s a quick primer on how a fountain pen functions: the writing tip called the nib is dipped into an inkwell or ink bottle. Then, a small lever on the pen’s side is pulled out on one end to force the other end to push against an internal reservoir. As the lever is slowly released, the reservoir sucks up the ink which is then guided onto paper by the nib in the act of writing.
As a young girl, I had two braids which trailed down my back. I remember sitting in class at a desk with a hole in it for an inkwell. However, by that time, liquid ink was no longer used in schools. Nevertheless, the old desks still had plenty of service left in them, so they remained.
The messy fountain pen became redundant by the 1950s with the switch to the ballpoint pen, a writing instrument that uses gravity to enable ink from a cartridge to flow onto a ball bearing on the pen’s tip. Today, we have almost given up the ballpoint pen, too. Writing nowadays seems to be an irritant and time suck when we can just type on a computer or its ilk–or better yet, dictate our words and watch them automatically transcribed onto a screen. Then, just push a button to instantly send your missive to another–so much faster, cleaner, and cheaper than writing it with a leak-prone implement, placing it into an envelope, licking it shut, applying a stamp, and depositing it into a mailbox with a several-day delay until arriving at the location of the intended recipient.
But, I digress–back to gaining the notice of a potential love interest. As we mature, our methods become more subtle than braid dipping. Nevertheless, they have the same underlying motive: How do I get your attention? How do I convey that I’m interested in you as a potential mate? How do I make you like me? These considerations continue up into seniorhood.
It’s intimidating to expose your feelings because possible rejection is always lurking. However, if we sublimate those emotions and never reveal them to our intended target, we are destined to remain alone. The lesson here is that, like most things in life which might yield a high reward, you must take a chance. You may not succeed, but at least you tried. In that case, simply move on to the next pair of braids when you stumble upon an inkwell.
What's in a Name? (11-27-23)
I have an unusual first name: Lee Gale. On my birth certificate, it is officially my first and middle name. My father thought it up inspired by similar names of deceased relatives, but my mother never liked the name: Lee. So, for the first year of my life, they just called me “the baby.” They finally realized that wasn’t going to cut it as I aged, so they settled on Lee Gale.
Upon meeting me for the first time, a rare few will ask if I use Lee or Lee Gale. After being told the latter is my preference, they just segue right into it without a problem. Today, I’m addressing the other group: those with a problem.
Many want to call me just Lee, or just Gale. To them, I usually offer a hint: Think of the word “legal,” and then stretch it out a bit. Sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t. I’m sure most of you with a “different” name can relate.
Since my name can also be interpreted as a man’s name, I have had strange experiences down through the years. When I stayed at a fancy hotel decades ago, my female companion found a rose on her pillow that night. Mine had a piece of chocolate which I found out later was for male guests. Another strange one from long ago: I showed up for a medical exam required by a sporting event I had enrolled in. I was shown to a cubicle in a row of many, and a curtain was drawn across the front. Shortly, I heard someone calling my name from a distance. The doctor was looking for me on the male’s side. In high school, I was assigned a few times to boys’ gym classes—hmmm, maybe not so bad. And, of course, the way U.S. mail is addressed to me is a whole other story.
The correct spelling of my name is also a hang-up for many. Sometimes it ends up: Legale, or Leegale without a space between the two words. I, also, am often identified as: Lee Gail or Lee Gayle. I recently had an example of the latter. After I was cast in a play, I entered my name on a list of the actors. Within a short time, a pesky “Y” had entered the second word of my first name on another list and then on subsequent missives. Whoever had transposed it from the original had just put their own spin on it. What’s the matter, don’t they think I know how to spell my own name?
Why am I making such a big deal about this? A name is something very personal. It’s a significant part of our identity. When it is mistreated with improper pronunciation or spelling, it is insulting and diminishing. The name botcher just can’t take the time to get it right. In so many of my cases, the wrong spelling was reproduced elsewhere and then many more elsewheres. Undoing that mess is like trying to fix a credit card theft.
I have learned that if I don’t correct such errors immediately, they grow and spread like a cancer. In the case of an acting role, such things as newspaper notices, flyers, playbills, etc. may all end up with the incorrect spelling. Then, if someone wants to find me in order to interview me or offer me other roles, it makes it more difficult for them.
Today, we are all moving so fast that we can’t even spend a moment to get someone’s name right. Maybe it’s not considered important, but it is actually a matter of respect to do so. When you mangle someone’s name, they don’t forget it. If some people find it an irritant to master my name, I just tell them, “You can blame my parents.” My position: if you can learn Beyoncé, you can learn Lee Gale. At least mine doesn’t have an accent mark!
Perpetual Pollyannas (11-13-23)
What does it mean when someone is called a Pollyanna? The term comes from a children’s book written over a century ago about an orphan girl who maintains an exuberant and favorable attitude throughout the adversity she encounters. I frequently write in this forum encouraging readers to be positive and upbeat. However, that, like everything else, can be carried to an extreme.
Have you ever encountered a Perpetual Pollyanna, or maybe you are one yourself? Such a characterization might be given to those who always present themselves to the world as having a charmed life. Nothing bad ever happens to them. Whenever they are asked, “How are you?” the answer is always, “I’m fine.” The practitioner of the Perpetual Pollyanna performance goes to great lengths to prevent anyone from seeing behind his/her façade, always showing up dressed in a grin like a painted clown.
No, no, no–mustn’t ever air the dirty laundry. Although this seems like a good trait, it becomes annoying when their life is always put forth as ultimate perfection, and your own has its unavoidable highs and lows.
What about the Perpetual Pollyannas themselves? Why do they behave that way? Do they think we really buy it? After all, the law of averages says that some misfortune must touch everyone. I will venture a guess. Perhaps a dose of insecurity is the driving force. The PPs might be afraid to reveal vulnerability as they fear it will be seen as a sign of weakness. Their lives are a constant competition, and they strive to be the winner, even to their own detriment. Behind their happy face may lie a river of sadness. Nevertheless, they deny themselves the healing power of sharing their pain and allowing others to comfort them.
I remember when I was a teenager, I had a schoolmate who was definitely a PP. She was very nice, pleasant, and cheerful at all times. The entire student body was shocked when she committed suicide. None of us saw it coming. Of course, no one tried to help her as nobody realized she had any problems. This syndrome is seen in some divorces where the two parties were always described as “the perfect couple.” Friends and family members can’t believe it when the split comes.
Constant complainers become tiresome, and folks start to avoid them. However, on the opposite end of the spectrum, Perpetual Pollyannas also become tiresome, and folks start to avoid them, too. Try to position yourself towards the middle of those extremes. You don’t need to wear your proverbial heart on your sleeve, but conversely, it’s not necessary to suppress every negative thing that creeps into your life. It’s unhealthy and can be harmful to you.
Running (10-30-23)
Are you a runner? I am, and it controls my life. I’m not talking about legs as part of the equation. I’m referring to running to and fro–ya know, rushing from one event to another. Every day in my calendar book is crammed full.
My own personal to and fro (aka: Type A personality) lifestyle is my default position. If I don’t step back periodically and stop myself, I am on high speed all the time. Oh, gee, I have an extra five minutes. What should I plug in here? It is a constant challenge for me to control my T & F affliction.
Many of my friends have a similar condition. Everyone is always “so busy, so busy.” No one seems to attend fully to what they’re doing at the moment, because their head is also focused on what they’re going to be doing next, with nary a space for a breath between engagements.
Why do we T & F types behave like we do? I have pondered this question frequently in my attempts to slow down; take a breather; be in the now. The best explanation I have come up with, at least for myself, is that it is a method of avoiding looking at the painful aspects of my life. We all have some of those, and everyone deals with them differently. For T & F’ers, that is their go-to method. When you overschedule and fill every waking moment, there is no time to deal with those things that cause you emotional pain. Yes, T & F‘ing is none other than a drug of choice, which just happens to be legal and socially acceptable.
Many alcoholics and drug abusers are simply self-medicating away their emotional pain. Isn’t that what T & F’ers are doing? I honed this method so long ago that it has become an ingrained habit that I’m scarcely aware of, because society never calls me out on it. That’s right! No one challenges such behavior; no one ever paints it as negative; there are no 12 step programs for it; and it is actually encouraged as few realize the downside.
For me, that liability consists of being worn out by early evening, feeling overwhelmed with my often out-of-control schedule, and never really having to deal with my hurtful emotions. If you are a T & F’er and wish to get a handle on it, here are a series of steps I’ve crafted that you can borrow:
1. Admit that you have T & F syndrome.
2. Assess whether it is taking a negative toll on your life.
3. Decide if you want to change it.
4. Make a realistic, personalized plan of action on how many activities are reasonable in a given time period: an hour, day,
week… Remember to include at-home activities such as cooking, house cleaning, or telephone chatter, as these do not
allow for mental and emotional rest time.
5. Reschedule your planned activities with the goal of allowing yourself more downtime each day.
6. Don’t cheat by multi-tasking.
7. Prioritize, and if you take on a new activity, then give up a current one. There is just so much time in the day, and you
can’t do it all.
8. Forgive yourself if you “fall off the wagon.” Each day is a clean slate, so simply start over again tomorrow.
Remember, T & F syndrome is addictive behavior. Overcoming it will take time and effort. Your progress will most likely be the proverbial two steps forward and one step back. Be patient with yourself.
On Being Publicly Shamed (10-15-23)
Have you ever been the receiver of a public shaming – that is with lots of onlookers around? I remember such behavior by some teachers toward the children in school when I was young. Unfortunately, it still exists in the grown-up world.
I was in a large class not too long ago, and a particular act I had done was singled out quite vocally by one person as an example of unacceptable conduct. Of course, all action stopped, and everyone present turned to look at me, the culprit, or at least it seemed that way in my mind. I felt humiliated and began stuttering and stammering, trying to explain my behavior, which was actually quite benign. My attempt to defend myself was quickly shut down with the reminder that we had to move on. As you can guess, I spent the rest of the time before the break upset and fuming, unable to pay attention to the classroom instruction being offered. So, what do you do in a case like that?
I had a few options. I could confront my harasser, insult him as he had insulted me, and permanently burn bridges. However, what would that yield me? We both were attending a class we enjoyed, and I would continue to encounter him week after week as we perpetuated a cold war and went out of our way to ignore each other. My new adversary might even badmouth me to others, only making the situation worse. Or, as the matter was relatively minor and probably now forgotten by most, I could simply let it go. But, what would that do for me? Since, in my opinion, I had been wrongly accused and subsequently convicted in everyone’s mind as my input was not part of the mix, I would spend the next few days beating myself up for not speaking out.
Some years ago, I made a decision that I would no longer allow anyone to mistreat me. I was going to challenge such behavior; I was not going to just let it pass, thereby enabling the perpetrator to score points on my back. So, while I was mentally ruminating and tuned out from the lesson at hand, I crafted a plan of action for the intermission. Then, I carried it out.
First, I walked up to the leader of the class, apologized for my behavior, and explained why I had done it, which had been for medical reasons. Then, I marched across the room where the perpetrator was standing. Very nicely and without malice, I told him that I had felt humiliated following his public pronouncement.
Now it was his turn to stutter and stammer; he probably hadn’t expected a retort. He said he had not meant it to be any big deal; he was just making a general point using me as an example. Nope, I was not having any of that! Regardless of his underlying motivation, I was the one who had been the communal scapegoat. I am not on this earth to be used as a prop in someone else’s drama–at least not without my permission. So, I continued my discussion with him, very calmly and without rancor, but making my point that he had no idea why I had behaved as I did, and it was not his place to be judge and jury. He apologized, and the meeting ended with us still on friendly terms–bet he doesn’t do that again.
When you need to stand up for yourself, try to formulate in advance the steps you will take so as not to act on impulse. Make sure you allow the other person to save face so that you don’t potentially end up the loser in the long run. Finally, don’t pull such public scolding behavior yourself. It is painful to others, nobody likes to be at the receiving end of it, and it will just make you enemies.
Can There Be Life without a Facelift? (10-1-23)
I went to a medical practitioner today whom I hadn’t seen in person since before the pandemic lockdown. During the meeting, I sensed something was wrong, but I couldn’t figure it out.
I became more and more disconcerted as the exam proceeded. It was not anything negative that she said. In fact, I seemed to be in good health. No, it was something strange about her. I kept staring and staring before it hit me. Her face looked visibly younger. There was the too smooth and blemish free skin with nary a wrinkle or under-eye bag in sight.
OMG, she had a facelift! This is a woman in her late 40s or early 50s who is attractive both in looks and manner. Why did she need a facelift? She, as a medical person, should know better; the potential for something to go wrong is always present with such an action. When she told me how good I looked, was she lying? Was she secretly tsk-tsking at my senior face? Was her thought actually: Get thee to a plastic surgeon, ASAP?
What makes an already successful person strive to appear younger in appearance, or “refreshed” as is used euphemistically in the biz, even at the risk of their health? I have often written on this subject in this forum (see links at end of blog). I find it sad that we are all so insecure and buy into the hype that younger is better. That’s pure bullshit! I’m more content and self-confident in my senior years than I’ve ever been. So many–too many–put a surgical fresh coat of paint on their aging bodies and hope no one will notice.
Am I the only one railing against invasive cosmetic surgery? Am I the only one who has read about the potential disasters from such procedures which can yield monster-like faces, distorted body areas, ongoing pain, and even death? Is everyone so gripped by revulsion of their aging self that they are willing to gamble with the disclaimer of, “Oh, it won’t happen to me”? Does their fervent desire to chase an elusive fantasy so outweigh their consideration of who else might be affected by potential negative outcomes such as family and friends if things don’t go according to the promise of the plastic surgeon?
Maybe the answer is that you’re now single for whatever reason and feel that you must appear younger to compete for a new mate. Or, maybe it’s a significant other in your life encouraging you to get that surgery for their own agenda such as wanting to be the envy of others by squiring around a youthful looking partner. I once met someone who had had a facelift because her husband, complete with full-on beer belly, felt it would resurrect his waning libido. Give me a break!!!
I can understand cosmetic surgery for someone grossly disfigured from birth or a serious accident. But, come on–just to appear younger? When you show up sporting a new mask that looks vaguely similar to the former you, we all know what’s going on. It doesn’t hide your insecurity.
People are being killed in this world, folks. If you have so much extra money, give it to a worthy cause, not toward a quick fix to be something you’re not. If you’ve had “work done” in the past, even if it has been peddled to you as a lifestyle and just part of your regular beauty routine, now is the time to stop it in the future.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look nice and be fashionable. However, as you age, you become more frail no matter how hard you try to wish it away. Any type of surgery and its requisite anesthesia pose threats to your well-being and life. Surgery can be life enhancing and lifesaving. As most doctors will attest, however, use it only as a last resort due to its potential risks. So, avoid elective cosmetic surgery lest the life enhancing and lifesaving aspects go astray.
Links to my prior blogs dealing with cosmetic surgery (scrolling down might be needed on some):
3-2-20: “Widgets for Sale,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2020/03/
4-29-19: “Hiding,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2019/04/
5-29-16: “You’re Fine Just the Way You Are,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2016/05/
5-13-16: “Being at the Whim of Marketers,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2016/05/
6-26-15: “Battling the Inevitability of Aging,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2015/06/
4-30-15: “If You Don’t Age Gracefully, Think of the Alternative–Yikes!” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2015/04/
Name That Cargo (9-17-23)
We humans easily become bored. We are always looking for something to entertain us. When I’m sitting at home alone eating dinner, I never just eat. Along with ingesting food, I’m always reading a magazine or book, checking my email, talking on the phone, or studying a script. Of course, when I’m with others, we form a collective entertainment committee. Each shovels down their food when someone else has the floor.
I recently took a road trip to visit family and friends. I had long stretches of driving with flat plains on both sides. Those vast, monochromatic vistas were interrupted only by crops that seemed to go on endlessly before slamming into the mountains surrounding them.
I remember a game my children used to play when they were young and we took road trips. They would spot the cars on the highways we traveled in order to find different states on their license plates. The winner was the one who could find the most states. On my current trip alone, my mind quickly made up a game. It centered around the huge transport trucks accompanying me on my journey. My challenge was to guess the cargo they were carrying.
Some of the trucks had no roofs on their trailers, and the contents were visible, peeking out from the top. I saw one after the other filled with mounds of tomatoes, thousands and thousands of them, rushing to processing plants so that you and I could score a pizza. Another truck was hauling onions, identifiable only as I got very close and could see the small orbs in what had appeared as solid white from afar. My favorite was the one crammed with melons--yum!
Of course, there were lorries with roofs and solid sides. Hmmm, what might they contain? I took clues from the writings and pictures on them to guess at the contents. One from a winery most likely contained grapes. When the outsides themselves offered no hints, I made up scenarios. There are no rules to this game. Only the imagination prevails.
When you find yourself becoming bored, survey your nearby surroundings. Make up your own games: What’s in the truck? How many trees can I count in five minutes? Where is everybody going?
There’s never a reason to be bored. All kinds of interesting things are within your view, your hearing range, and any other sense you use to interact with your environment. Create your own diversion. It’s free and can be a lot of fun.
Covid and Me (9-3-23)
Well, I’d managed to dodge the Covid bullet throughout the 3 1/2 years since the lockdown–until now. Yep, I woke up last week thinking I was just very tired. It never dawned on me that I might have Covid. I tried to shake it off and go about my daily business. However, that weakness settled over me, and all I seemed to crave was jumping into bed and sleeping.
I finally took a Covid test and then took a second one because I didn’t believe the first one. How could I have Covid? I am invulnerable. But there it was, those two little lines staring at me. How, when, and where did I contract this dreaded disease of the decade?
I had returned only a few days earlier from a long road trip. Maybe it was somewhere along the way that I encountered someone or several someone’s breathing in my direction and letting loose a volley of Covid molecules which eventually settled inside of me. Perhaps it occurred after my return home, somewhere in my own ‘hood, where someone did the same. Of course, it’s impossible to know. And even if I were able to figure it out, what difference would it make? Here I am laid low with this inconvenient, albiet temporary–I hope–condition.
All of my plans and regular daily activities have been put on hold. Everything stops when you have Covid. Now, I’m back to the lockdown routine we all became so familiar with a few years ago. I have to isolate at home lest I infect someone else; I have to isolate at home so I can get better; I have to isolate at home…
The difference between now and then are the miracle drugs humanity has discovered. I’ve been vaccinated, boosted, boosted, boosted, and boosted. I recently finished a five-day course of Paxlovid, that wonder medication to help my body fight back. Yes, I am willing to endure its side effects such as an odd taste in my mouth. That is mild compared to the destruction Covid is able to wrought. And, yes, I am back to wearing a mask if I do find myself near another human.
Today’s version is not the Covid of old that we so feared. I’ve never once thought that I would have to be hospitalized, put on a ventilator, and could die. No, the new Covid is more like a mild to moderate case of the flu. Nevertheless, it has clipped my wings. I don’t like it one bit, and I am disheartened when I see that second line show up on my Covid test each day. Yes, it’s taking longer and longer to appear, but there it is, edging in just under the 15 minute time limit–drat.
I’m ready for this to be over! I’m ready to move along with my life. I have places to go, people to see, and things to do. Covid is a roadblock that cramps my style. I feel guilty, complaining when millions have died. Nevertheless, it feels good to rant. I hate it when my lifestyle is interrupted, especially by something as tiny as a virus. Begone, I say! Get the hell away from me, I say! I’m done with you, Covid!
So, take care all. May you have a Covid free rest of your summer. But be prepared, nevertheless, as it could happen to anyone.
Confrontation Vs. Retreat (8-20-23)
When something uncomfortable, distasteful, or intimidating is suddenly thrust in our path, there are two main choices one can make. You can duck your head, retreat, and try to forget it, letting fate be the sole arbitrator of the issue. Or, you can confront the matter which will often cause anxiety and sleepless nights before and after you act. Unless you are in physical danger, the choice that will likely work out best for you is most often the latter. Confrontation or facing the matter full on, shaking though you may be, will let you take charge of your position, feelings, and all the other factors making the issue so unsettling to you, and you won't be left carrying around those self-flagellating, I-should-have-said thoughts.
Traditional Maori warriors of New Zealand would make a face and stick out their tongues in a menacing manner when confronting enemies. They tried to present as fierce and frightening an appearance as possible with the hopes of gaining the upper hand in the conflict.
Win or lose, you will feel gratified that you stood your ground, had your say, and used your voice. You did not shrink away with your proverbial tail between your legs. That feels good!
We all become anxious over the idea of confronting something that another or many others oppose. We're worried about consequences that may harm us. All the "what ifs" kick in:
What if he/she never speaks to me again!
What if I'm fired!
What if I'm ostracized by the group, class, tribe, world...!
Those "what ifs" are powerful and do serve a purpose. They cause us to weigh our actions, which is a good thing. If everyone in the world went off "half-cocked" during every interaction, we would live in continual chaos. However, the "what ifs" have a flip side. They can be crippling, preventing us from a course of conduct which might be healthy or beneficial to our own well-being--physical, mental, and/or emotional.
Consider, and then act with your needs as part of the mix. Retreat if that is the prudent course. But, confront when appropriate, even if it's scary to do so. You will be the winner.
Wrinkles Are Beautiful! (8-2-23)
Who defines what is ugly? Although that adjective can be applied to all walks of life, what about when it is directed toward human beings--specifically seniors?
How did aging and the physical signs of it become defined as unattractive? Why is the appearance of youth considered so much more desirable?
Too many seniors look in the mirror with disgust. They see OMG: wrinkles, flab, age spots, gray hair, and other signs of a normal process. Then, they look away in revulsion. This sickness is an equal opportunity malaise; it affects both sexes as they age. Although women seem to talk and do more about it, men are catching up fast.
How sad for us in that age demographic. Must we go through our "golden years" secretly despising ourselves? Can we choose to alter our point of view? Can we "age gracefully" as we've heard so much about but have no idea how to do?
Yes, of course we can. It is not mandatory or even necessary to buy into the current hype of: younger is better. We can pity the celebrities who appear and reappear looking "refreshed" when we only have to google their names to find out their awful secret: their real age.
We don’t need to chase the snake oil purveyors who promise us youth while charging outrageous amounts to work their sorcery. This may even involve putting our health and even our lives in danger by invasive procedures, all in a futile attempt to pretend we are younger. I've written often on this topic. Whenever I meet a senior who is obsessing about their aging appearance, it motivates me to tackle the matter once again.
Are you really going to spend the rest of your precious years as a recluse because you don't dare show your older face in public? Are you able to discipline your mind to make your own decisions rather than having them made for you by the media and popular culture? Dare you change your outlook to embrace yourself as beautiful, regardless of the stage of life in which you find yourself?
That is my challenge to you. Yes, I challenge you to find happiness and contentment, which starts with accepting and loving yourself exactly as you are without the need for ongoing, external tweaks.
Hula (7-21-23)
How do we know when something will grab us? How do we find that passion we keep searching for? Well, there are many ways to go about it. Today, I’ll discuss one method: pure, dumb luck.
I realized that I was not getting enough exercise, but lying on the floor at home and doing a bunch of leg lifts or sit ups was just too boring. Working out at the gym was a close second. Yes, I went on occasional walks and even hikes, but those were periodic–sandwiched into time between other activities.
An acquaintance mentioned that she belonged to the Hula Club at my retirement community. I’d seen hula performed over the years, and it looked pretty but not something that beckoned to me. I didn’t even know if I could do it because it is danced barefoot, and I have some foot issues.
“Come to the class, and just watch,” she encouraged me.
So, for the sake of pursuing some body toning, I finally squeezed it into my calendar. Nothing prepared me for the hula vortex that grabbed me and sucked me in. I was indeed able to do the slow, controlled, foot movements, and the music was mesmerizing.
I am enjoying the dicipline of learning the routines and moving in cadence with the other dancers. It's kind of like hula drill team. I'm also improving on making my motions smooth versus the choppy I started out with.
Cherry one on the sundae is that my energy level has improved noticeably. Cherry two is that the class doesn’t just dance in the studio, they actually perform around our community onstage in front of live audiences, which is something I love to do.
I can’t believe how much of my life I am now devoting to hula. I’ve rearranged my entire schedule so that I can attend class twice per week, 2 1/2 hours per class. That doesn’t even account for all of it. There is the time spent at home practicing new dances to the videos the instructor makes in class. There is the time devoted to purchasing and altering my beautiful dance costumes. (That’s me in the photo wearing one.) There is the time for rehearsals at the event venues and the actual performances which we present several times a year. And, still, I can’t get enough of hula.
Who knew that Hawaiian dancing would become an addiction? I certainly didn’t. That was not the plan when I started; I just wanted an occasional, physical workout.
Are you are looking for something exciting, stimulating, or purposeful? Try lots of different activities, even those that are not your usual go-to types. Throw that pot of spaghetti against the wall. You might be surprised at what sticks.
Forgiving Yourself (7-7-23)
In my last post, I briefly mentioned forgiving yourself. Several readers contacted me suggesting a deeper discussion. So, I am devoting an entire blog to the subject.
The act of forgiveness is usually thought of as involving two sides. It might be individuals, groups, or even large institutions. “A” does something offensive to “B,” and “B” forgives “A.” However, that scenario can also be played out within ourselves.
It’s been said that we are our own worst critics. We get down on ourselves easily when we don’t meet our personal, self-imposed expectations. Such self-castigation can play on an endless loop and morph into low self-esteem and eventually depression.
Often, we carry those negative seeds from childhood. Someone or many someones in our past may have overtly or covertly conveyed to us that we are lacking and will never amount to much. These could have been parents, teachers, peers, or anyone else in our sphere. So, we spend the next decades of our lives proving them wrong by striving to excel in whatever our chosen pursuits may be. Unfortunately, in a bizarre twist, many just step into the shoes of their former tormentors and change the script into self-reprimand.
Some religions address the problem with formulaic, ritualistic acts of confession and contrition in which forgiveness is the endgame such as the Catholic Church’s confessional. Some governments have ceremonial forgiveness events such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission held by South Africa in 1996 after the end of apartheid.
What do we do if those options are not available to us for whatever reasons? How do we give ourselves permission to err as all human beings do? How do we forgive ourselves? It’s a tough question, and it’s so hard to do for so many. We hold ourselves to impossibly high standards and then judge ourselves as failures when we do not meet them.
Letting yourself become weighed down in self-loathing is completely unproductive. It may manifest in such behaviors as anger, withdrawal, isolation, and the like. If you have significant others in your life, your moods splash onto them which only serves to draw spouses/partners, children, parents, and friends into your misery. Is that really what you want?
When you make a mistake, how about trying to cut yourself a little slack, just as you do with others? Don’t you deserve such treatment like everyone else? Start by being a friend to yourself rather than an enemy combatant. When you make a mistake, notice it, learn from it, forgive yourself, and move on. The goal is to keep pressing forward. I’ve spoken frequently in this forum about being kind to others. You must also remember to be kind to yourself.
The Hidden Part of the Iceberg (6-23-23)
It’s easy to be critical of others. We tend to judge them by their exterior packaging, and we do it in the first few minutes of meeting them.
Ninety percent of icebergs are hidden below the waterline; we only see the top ten percent which is exposed. The same is probably true of humans. It requires getting to know them to learn what is hiding in their submerged part.
A few years ago, I was somewhat offended by another member in a class I was attending. I felt uncomfortable whenever she came over to talk to me, because she stood too close, invading the social distance expected in our society. I began to avoid her to the point of being a bit rude if she would approach.
Some months later, I found myself working on a special project which included this classmate. It was only then that I found out she has a significant hearing problem. She stood close to everyone to be able to understand them better. I felt ashamed of myself for my prior behavior. To make amends, I went out of my way to be nice to her and helped explain things when she couldn’t hear them. You should have seen her blossom. She was so grateful for my attention. My guess is that she is often rebuffed by others. I’m sure she has no idea why.
Another incident occurred in a different setting where someone mentioned a new neighbor. In my effort to figure out who she was, I made a dismissive remark about her hair, trying to clarify in my mind who we were talking about. The person to whom I was speaking commented, “You know, she has multiple sclerosis?” Again, I was ashamed of myself. That handicapped woman probably has enough trouble just dressing herself let alone fixing her hair in a style that might suit the likes of me.
I really get down on myself when I behave in a cruel manner toward others. I don’t want to be like that. Usually, I do it without thinking and certainly without the goal of inflicting hurt. I guess the word for such action is “thoughtless.” Yes, thoughtlessness can be painful to others, and most of us have been at the receiving end of it, too.
It’s important to realize that everyone has shortcomings including ourselves. Strive to be a better person; forgive yourself for occasional stumbles; and keep on trying.
Mini-Diminutions (6-9-23)
A diminution is the act of becoming gradually less in such things as size or importance. It is the noun form of the verb: to diminish. Have you ever experienced a mini-diminution as a result of someone else’s act or statement? Perhaps you have been the archer behind such an arrow.
Mini-diminution is a term I’ve coined which might be viewed as a cousin to micro-aggression. However, the latter usually has a stigmatized or culturally marginalized group as its target. Nevertheless, both are subtle techniques to dismiss or bring down others, whether overt or covert. People engage in such acts to burst the balloon of, rain on the parade of, or any other way you can describe the effect of such behavior on its victim. This tactic has an endgame of hurting another’s feelings. It could be set in motion by some perceived insult, jealousy, or a myriad of other negative feelings toward the target or even toward a much larger group with the current scapegoat chosen at random.
Recently, I was at a friend’s dinner party, and people were just chatting at the table before the food was served. When I was speaking to the group, another member quickly turned to the person next to him and begin a private, side conversation. That action in a gathering so small made my conversation difficult due to the increased noise-level and distraction. I passed it off, not thinking much about it, although I was a bit irritated. However, when it happened a second time, I pondered whether it was deliberate in order to discount my importance.
Another example happened to me several years ago. I have some antiques in my house as I am partial to them. I invited several family members over to see my new home. During the course of the afternoon, a cousin commented to me loud enough for others to hear, “You know, I’ve never really cared for antiques.” Interesting, as I don’t recall asking her for an opinion on the matter. Yup, another mini-diminution had just landed on me.
Such comments are so subtle that it’s hard to even realize it’s happening never mind confronting the hurler. If you should manage to collect your composure in a timely manner and question the speaker about his/her motivation, you might get a response such as: I didn’t mean anything by it; What are you talking about? or some other such denial.
Why do people perfect the art of the put down? I’ve written on this subject previously in this forum. (Click here and scroll down to read my blog of July 11, 2018, “The Passive-Aggressive Jab.” Click here and scroll down to read my blog of April 1, 2019, “Put-Down Humor.”) Although I wrote those blog posts several years ago, the behavior is alive and well today. People think that by diminishing another, they will raise themselves up–fuzzy math to my mind. If you feel low and don’t think much of yourself, putting somebody else down is not going to do it.
The sadder one here is the slinger more than the slingee. Slingers, rather than enjoying their own lives, spend a great deal of their time nursing angry feelings. Someone has always “done them wrong,” and they fixate on honing payback methods. My only message to such folks is to knock it off and spend your energy on enhancing your own life. The other is just too tiresome for all involved.
Do We Betray the Dead by Choosing to Live? (5-26-23)
I have a friend who was widowed some years ago. She and her husband had been married for several decades when he died. She felt intense grief after his passing and was depressed for a long time. She couldn’t escape the emptiness in their home with signs of him everywhere: the furniture they bought together; his aftershave lotion on the counter next to the bathroom sink; his slippers in the closet. She could barely function for well over a year.
We are all felled by a close death whether it be a spouse, parent, child, friend, other significant person, or even a pet. Grieving is a necessary first step in the healing process.
My aforementioned friend eventually started to venture out–slowly at first. When she found herself forgetting about her husband briefly while enjoying herself in the company of others, she felt guilty. So, she isolated again for many months.
Victorian era custom had widows dressing in all black “widow’s weeds” for long periods of time, even the rest of their lives, after the demise of their husbands. It was probably due to the influence of Queen Victoria who did so for the forty years she lived after the passing of her husband, Prince Albert, in 1861.
Is that custom life affirming or pathological? Is it a betrayal of a deceased spouse or significant other to want to go on with your life? What about dating? Is it okay to want to partner up again?
There are no rules here, even though some individuals or institutions attempt to impose them. That is only a power grab on their part over vulnerable people gripped by anguish. After the sorrow dissipates, a normal occurrence which may take months or years, humans eventually get tired of self-imposed isolation. It is natural, healthy and imperative to reach out to others; to begin to spread your wings; to craft a positive, joyous life for yourself.
If you are in such a situation, you must consider an important question: Do you want to live? You are not a bad person to choose life no matter which route you take: socializing, dating, remarrying, seeking a job or returning to a career, exploring new pursuits… You can still do so in conjunction with remembering and missing your departed one. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Losing Your Independence (5-11-23)
As we age, things that used to be easy to do become more difficult. Our bodies don’t function as well; our brains don’t remember like they used to; our abilities diminish in general. We gradually begin to find some tasks harder and harder. That may reach a crisis point where we have to give up certain activities and pursuits.
One of the most difficult losses is the operation of an automobile. Cars offer their drivers incredible independence. People can come and go as they please. However, when you no longer have the quick reflexes and reaction time necessary to operate a motor vehicle safely, it is imperative that you stop doing so. Such a driver becomes a serious hazard to themselves and others.
Many seniors are unable to assess or refuse to accept when their give-it-up time comes. That often requires some significant person or entity making the decision: children, doctors, courts, etc. It may not go smoothly, and there is the possibility of hurt feelings all around. Nevertheless, count yourself lucky that you have caring people in your life who are willing to devote the time and energy to insuring your welfare; not everyone has that as they age. If you’re in the latter category, set things in place now while you can so you’ll have the care you need if and when it becomes necessary rather than burying your head in the proverbial sand with an it’ll-never-happen-to-me attitude.
What about living independently? Sometimes that becomes unsafe as we age and become more infirm. Things in the household can pose a danger such as bathing or operating a stove. Again, seniors often resist the idea of moving into a facility such as an assisted living home, where they might get help with basic chores.
Even walking can be fraught with danger if your body is not cooperative with all that the act of ambulation entails. Seniors tend to fall more frequently than they did when they were younger and more agile. Yet, so many resist assistive devices such as canes or walkers, because it is the mark of being old. Only after they fall and break their hip or other bones are they willing to consider such alternatives. By then, the damage is done.
We’ve all heard that well-known adage credited to 1940s movie actress Bette Davis: “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.” Yes, it’s a rough road. However, we have no choice but to proceed forward, weathering whatever obstacles come our way in the aging process. Do your best to adapt, and seek out other activities or alternatives that will help you lead a satisfying, quality life, regardless of the fact that it is different from what you’re used to.
You may not be able to drive a car, but you can take a bus or a ride share service such as Uber or Lyft. You may not be able to cook for yourself, but you can order meals delivered or buy pre-prepared meals–senior programs will deliver meals to your door ready to be heated up and eaten. You may no longer be able to run that marathon you did when you were younger, but you can take a walk in your neighborhood or in a wilderness area. (I’ve written on this topic before in this forum. Click here and scroll down to read my blog of April 2, 2018, “A Hitch in Your Gitalong,” and here to read my blog of June 26, 2015, “Battling the Inevitability of Aging.”)
There are many alternatives to aid you in living an active and fulfilling life. Don’t be embarrassed to use them just because they may be the sign of getting old.
Senior Orphans (4-28-23)
An orphan is one whose parents have died. Probably the most famous orphan in literature is "Oliver Twist," written by Charles Dickens in 1837. We usually think of orphans as children. However, you can become an orphan at any age.
The same feelings of being orphaned occur whether it’s your biological parents who have passed or the parental figures in your life: stepparents, foster parents, mentors, or anyone else in that category.
Even seniors can become orphans. No matter how elderly, frail, or infirm one's parents become, there's still that feeling that we have someone to lean on if we need it. The truth, of course, if that they've been leaning on us as they have declined. However, we don't even realize it. My son who is in his fifties and a fully successful and proficient husband, father, and career person, can still dash off that kid's whine: "Mommmmm" when he wants something, and I'm being resistant.
If you were fortunate enough to have your parents survive into your own senior years, it’s still a shock and trauma when they die. Suddenly, that force that has been such a major player in your life is gone. That feeling of vulnerability, being lost, and not having them to rely on hits you no matter your age, confidence, or degree of sophistication.
When your parents and the other family members in their generation have all died, you suddenly find yourself unwillingly pushed into a new role. You now belong to the oldest living generation in your family. It’s often an uncomfortable place to be with its huge weight of responsibility.
You are looked up to, revered, and counted upon for wisdom, even if you don’t feel so wise all the time. How overwhelming it might seem to hold such a position in life. Nevertheless, don't forget that you are lucky to have such a role. Not all seniors do.
We seniors must practice good habits so we can stay strong and healthy for the younger generations who rely on us. It’s a tall task, but we’re up to it. Play it with the most competence you can muster. They are depending on you.
The Importance of Material "Stuff" (4-12-23)
How important are material objects in our lives? They do, indeed, make the passing days more pleasant by offering assistance, comfort, and status. But, how does this “stuff” hold up against our interpersonal relationships?
We often observe young children bickering over toys to the point of physical violence. They hold their blocks, dolls, and gizmos close so the other kids in the sandbox can’t claim them as their own. We usually assume that they will grow out of such behavior. Sometimes they do, and sometimes…
My family lore contains a story about my great aunt and her sister-in-law by marriage. I’m not sure I’ve ever met either, although I have a vague recollection of the blood relative when I was young.
As the accounting goes, these two women had been close friends for many years. One day, after lunching together, they were strolling down the street and came upon a jewelry store. In the window was a sign offering free jewelry cleaning. Both women sported from their respective husbands of many years a fairly new, impressive, diamond wedding ring which had replaced their old, not so grand ones.
Our heroines decided what a great idea it would be to get their rings cleaned, so they walked in. The jeweler took the two items and put them into the cleaning machine. After the requisite amount of time, he returned the proffered rings all shiny and sparkly.
One of our actors looked at the ring she had been handed and said that it was the wrong ring–hers was the other one. Her soon-to-become opponent said that wasn’t so, and that she had been given her correct ring. A back-and-forth ensued, which turned into a full-fledged argument. The latter refused to exchange the rings, insisting her own property had been returned to her. This escalated into a major rift between the two women, never to be healed for the rest of their lives.
Have you had arguments over your material possessions? Are they so precious to you that you would sacrifice a close personal relationship over them? I guess if you plan to take the items to your grave with you as did the ancient Egyptian pharaohs in order to ensure a comfortable, luxurious stretch in the afterlife, then maybe such a sacrifice might be worth it. If not, perhaps you need to reevaluate what is truly important in your current life.
One Man's Kitsch is Another Man's Objet d'Art (3-29-23)
We each have our own sense of taste when it comes to what is or is not appealing. Ancient philosophers, both from the Greek and Roman eras, discussed and fixated on the nature of aesthetic properties. Leonardo da Vinci sketched "Vitruvian Man" as the ideal proportions for a human body. Nevertheless, beauty remains a matter of intense debate.
Today, we have contests to highlight who or what is the most perfect. There are beauty pageants for humans, dog shows for pooches, museums to house what is judged to be the best of the arts, and on and on.
We common folk also have our tastes. Just look around your neighborhood to see how people decorate their abodes. Most houses might be painted in gentle pastels, but there is that one in a garish, blaring hue. Although some might be outraged by it, the owner thinks it's stunning.
Many years ago, I visited Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley. The guide told us that Elvis had not used a decorator but had made his own decisions on the furnishing of the mansion. My opinion: It's amazing how someone with a lot of money and no taste can decorate. Elvis' opinion: Isn't it magnificent!
Where I live and in many similar, residential locations around the country, some seem to think it enhances the neighborhood to put out what they see as ornamental objects such as plastic flowers, small windmills, round glass balls, and the like. You can find these "decorations" suspended from trees, lining paths, hung from doors, and all other manner of locations. There are those I find to be a turnoff--kitsch to my eye. Maybe some find the flower pots outside of my front door the same.
It's hard to come to common agreement on taste. We are each the result of different influences and backgrounds. Yet, we must get along. If someone shows irritation at your choice for public display, maybe you might relocate the object into your own personal residence. That way you can admire it without offending others. If you don't care for that suggestion, I invite you to enjoy the pink, plastic flamingo I'm thinking of installing in my front yard.
Overscheduling (3-16-23)
Are you addicted to overscheduling, or do you know someone who is? Yes, we all seek out interesting things to do. Sometimes, what we find may be time sensitive, such as plays and exhibits, which may end by a certain date. Other times, we may be invited to an event that is a one-off.
It’s tempting to cram too many things into a single day. An overscheduler’s mindset might go something like this: Let’s see, if I set my dentist appointment in the morning, I can attend that concert in the afternoon and have enough time to make it to my aunt’s 95th birthday celebration dinner where I’ll stay for an hour and still be able to arrive just a little late to that club party I don’t want to miss. This is an extreme example, but it’s not far off from how many people live their lives.
Frenetic overscheduling short changes your focus or enjoyment of individual activities. Rather than steeping yourself in the moment, you are constantly checking your watch to make sure you wrap it up so as to get to the upcoming number on your dance card.
Much of your time is wasted just in travel alone from one appearance to the next. Then, of course, there is the question of your energy level. Those present at your final destination get to interact with the tired, irritable, and impatient version of you.
I had a friend years ago who was the master of overscheduling. She never seemed able to pay much attention to what was going on at the time as she was usually thinking about what was coming next. When I tried to confront her about this, she became defensive and angry. This is how she was used to structuring her life, and she wasn’t planning on changing, even if it meant that she never fully enjoyed anything.
I’ve also had situations where someone has bailed out at the last minute on an invitation to visit me because they were just too tired from their earlier activities that day. Oh yes, they were so sorry and hoped I would understand, but the upshot was that they left me hanging, and my plans were ruined. Never mind the time, energy, and effort I had expended preparing for our get-together: cleaning the house, arranging for food, getting myself ready, a reduced amount of attendees from what I had decided was the right number, and on and on.
When people pull behavior like the aforementioned examples, they establish a reputation for themselves. Then they wonder why friends stop inviting them.
Don’t be a chronic overscheduler. Follow through with your commitments, and arrive rested and able to engage wholeheartedly with those whom you encounter. Allow plenty of decompression time in your schedule before embarking on the next happening. It will help you enjoy those that you do attend so much more.
The Peril of Laziness (3-1-23)
We've all experienced it: laziness. It seems to get worse as we age, especially when we don't have children screaming for out immediate attention, a job to report to on time, and all sorts of other obligations of our younger adulthood. We might drift into ennui, findint it hard to be self motivating.
It becomes easier and easier to sleep late—very late, to pad around your pad in robe and slippers all day, or to avoid going out—too much trouble. Sitting in front of the television set, trolling the internet, checking your email, or even reading a book for hours becomes your routine.
Be careful of that, folks. It can sneak up and take over your life without your even realizing it. The pandemic lockdown proved to be very bad psychologically. Staying at home became a habit--a lifestyle. Now that the extreme danger has passed, it’s hard to break that habit.
There’s nothing wrong with slowing down after a lifetime of pressure, stress, and obligations. But, solitary, at-home activities as a steady diet can lead to isolation, dissatisfaction, malaise, and even agoraphobia. We may find ourselves making excuses:
“My body needs a lot of sleep.”
“I’m entitled to some leisure after all the years I worked.”
“People just don’t understand me.”
“These are the things I like to do.”
Make sure you stay engaged with reality and other humans for your own well-being. Don’t turn on the TV until after dinner. Limit your book/magazine reading to small parameters. Cut down on that computer time. As amazing as it might seem, your electronic devices do have “off” buttons; use them! (Read my blog of March 18, 2015 which provides easy instructions on how to turn off those addictive devices: “Disconnect from Your Technology,” https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2015/03.)
Find outside activities that stimulate you, and make commitments to be there, help out, lead groups, etc. Commitments are motivators to get up, get out, and embrace life. Have something to do at least every other day that will give you an incentive to leave your abode. It could be as simple as a shopping trip to the grocery store. Once outside, you’ll feel renewed and energized.
It’s hard, especially when just the acts of personal hygiene and getting dressed seem to be such an effort. However, as a very wise teacher once told my class, “If it’s hard, do it anyway!”
Seeking Prince/Princess Charming (2-13-23)
Ah, Valentine’s Day is here again. That means that a special someone will bestow upon us a present as a gesture of his/her love of wonderful us? Or, does it?
Everyone is looking for the perfect partner. Does such an ideal exist? For a few lucky ones, the answer may be yes. However, for the majority of us, the reality is that no human being with all of their imperfections and foibles can meet all of the needs of another.
The only thing one can do is reduce expectations and compromise, or go without partnering. Neither choice is the ideal, but it is hoped that the seeker will find some modicum of happiness.
Many have filtered through numerous potential candidates and eventual partners, always looking for the better one just around the corner. Online dating sites have made this churning speedier and more efficient. However, the constant testing and discarding these sites enable prove wearisome and disappointing.
The truth is that finding your own Prince/Princess Charming is most likely a pipe dream. It always amazes me when some man complete with beer belly and bad breath posts his ideal candidate as young, slender, and attractive, or an unkempt woman seeks a fit, good looking, financially stable man. What planet are these people living on? And, are those the traits that will guarantee you compatibility and happiness together?
If you are seeking a perfect mate, stop fantasizing and realize that all of us are only human. After all, are you the perfect Prince or Princess Charming? Probably not, unless you stepped out of a book of fairy tales.
Stability (2-1-23)
What is stability? One definition: restoration to the original state after knocked off equilibrium.
Stability can be a factor in many different areas of our lives. Financial stability means that we have enough money to meet our needs and enjoy a comfortable life. Emotional stability is when our thoughts are on an even enough keel to yield happiness and contentment. Physical stability happens when our balance is such that we can move with confidence of not falling. Spiritual stability occurs when we have settled on a faith or belief system that provides comfort to us. Cultural stability means that we are part of a group with shared behaviors and pursuits. Social stability is when our institutions provide a secure framework in which we can function successfully. Global stability comes about when the world's countries have a working relationship which provides for the benefit of all inhabitants of our planet.
Why is stability important? Because, when we are trapped in its opposite: chaos, we are thrown into a constant state of agitation, uncertainty, and fear. Such a condition contributes to ongoing misery, a horrible way to live.
Some people seem to "roll with the punches" no matter what life hands them. Why is that? Part of the answer probably has to do with their inherent nature. However, another contributor might be that they grew up in relative stability in the aforementioned areas and are better able to weather life's storms as adults. None of us makes it through unscathed; we all encounter disruptions as the years pass. A solid foundation and ongoing framework of stability leads to a better outcome after the hurricane is spent.
No country or institution has figured out a way to provide continuous and complete stability to its inhabitants or members. As with so many things, each group sits somewhere on a continuum from high to low. Their stability depends on many considerations: leaders, followers, environmental factors, the advancement of time, and the like.
Stability can change in an instant. Don't take it for granted! Identify those things that create stability in your life, seek them out, nurture them, and cherish them. You will have a happier and probably longer life if you do.
La Repetición (1-18-23)
We were a group of adults at a community Spanish class. We had come to know each other well–kind of like a club–as we continued to attend semester after semester. There was a great deal of camaraderie among the students.
We referred to each other by a Spanish version of our name. Rose was Rosa; Ernest was Ernesto; Charles was Carlos; and Roberta was the same but with a Spanish accent. Then there was me: Lee Gale. No Spanish equivalent worked for my oxymoronish name, so I remained simply: Lee Gale. Oh, well.
Studying a language requires memorization of a seemingly endless list of vocabulary words. Our patient, steadfast teacher, Carol Betti, would always listen to our whines and bellyaches that went something like: It’s so hard; how do you remember all those words? She always responded patiently with her secret sauce: “la repetición.”
Yes, if you want to learn something well, the only way to do it is to repeat it and repeat it. In Spanish, it’s called: repetición. Here in the homeland, we call it practice, which is just repetition on steroids. Skill comes from doing the same thing over and over until it becomes automatic and effortless.
Our role models are those at the apex of their fields whether it be ballet dancers, computer techies, athletes, or construction workers. No one starts out at the top of their game. The ones who excel and rise to that level are the ones who review continually.
I’ve recently been cast in an amazing play! I feel very fortunate to have been chosen. However, one of my monologues is exceptionally challenging. Although we do have open scripts for part of the play, I’m required to memorize this particular passage. It’s been a real test, often frustrating and agonizing. I’ve thought frequently of la repetición as I slog my way through. It has helped me persevere. For weeks, each night after I crawl in bed, I have gone over the lines in my mind before falling asleep. Each morning after I wake up, I have done the same. Eureka! I have finally mastered that beast, and it feels great!
Do you strive to become proficient at a particular pursuit? If so, you must put in the time, energy, and effort towards that goal. There is no work around–no free lunch. However, if it’s something you really, really want, the satisfaction, accolades, or financial gain will make it worthwhile. Just remember to use the technique recommended decades ago by my very wise, Spanish teacher: la repetición.
A Sense of Community (1-4-23)
Over the recent holidays, I took a car trip with my son. Wow, I had him all to myself without his family competing for his attention. Our halfway point was going to be a visit to my cousin and her husband where we would stay for a few days. We planned to do our laundry there. Shortly before our arrival, my cell phone rang.
“Bad news, Lee Gale, we both have Covid.”
Whoops, all of our plans had to turn on a dime. That’s an old fashion expression meaning an immediate segue to Plan B, which we hadn’t even formulated. We managed to find a hotel–thank you Internet–near another destination on our itinerary.
The next day, son went to visit friends, while I stayed behind, having volunteered to do our laundry. The hotel clerk directed me to a community laundromat a few blocks away. Dragging my rolling suitcase–thank you to whoever invented that–I pulled our dirty duds behind me.
Upon arrival, I realized I hadn’t used a public laundry facility for decades, and I wasn’t sure how it worked. My last time, I think I put a quarter in a slot. I walked in and found a bustle of humans, all dealing with walls of endless washers and dryers. The noisy machines were sloshing, whirling, or tumbling their contents. I approached an empty one with a puzzled look on my face. It seemed equipped to accept a plastic card, but not my type of credit card.
A thirtyish, hefty man came to my rescue. He explained the difference between the regular and the extra large washing machines, the latter meant for double loads. He showed me how to put my money into a pay slot in the wall to get a “wash card” and how to insert it in my washing machine of choice. He also watched over as I poured in the soap I had brought, advising me when it was enough. Finally, he tutored me on how the dryer worked, and that my wash card must be inserted first before I chose the temperature. With a little practice, I gained confidence and competency, loading my washer and controlling it with my wash card without a second thought. I returned to my benefactor.
“Oh, thank you so much. You’ve been such a big help. What’s your name?”
“It’s Hector, ma’am.”
“It’s nice to meet you Hector. My name is Lee Gale.”
Hector, my sweet bear of an angel, left the premises after retrieving his own laundry from a dryer. I’m sure I’ll never see Hector again, but he sure did make my day. He asked for nothing and only wanted to help a fellow human being. I saw other “regulars” mentoring “newbies” like me, too. This modern laundromat is not so different from when our ancestors washed their clothes at the riverbank, chatting and gossiping as they worked. Lifelong friendships are forged that way.
What had started out as an anticipated, dull chore, turned into an experience of warmth, support, and camaraderie–a real sense of belonging. Yes, a community can be established anywhere over a shared goal. It only takes caring, supportive folks whose aim is to get a foothold, become productive members, and pass their knowledge along to the next guy.
Neon People (12-17-22)
Who are neon people? They are humans who do something to stand out. They might wear neon clothing while bicycling to make sure they can be seen easily and therefore avoid being hit by cars. “Neon personhood” can be expanded from that example.
Some people just seem to draw attention. It might be their looks, attractive or not; it might be their clothing, expensive or not; it might be their behavior, proper or not. But there’s something about them that makes others turn and observe.
Are you a neon person? Some people are natural neons. They don’t think twice about it. It’s simply who they are.
There’s just so much attention in the world to go around. Humans compete with each other for it. Winners of those contests get more, losers less. However, we all deserve some. If attracting it is not natural to you, how do you grab a portion? How do you become a neon person?
The best way is to study the natural neons of this world. What is it about them? Perhaps you can incorporate some of those traits into your own behavior. If it feels odd, uncomfortable, or not your style, try it out. The more you practice, the easier it becomes. I’ve written on this topic in this forum before. (Click on these links and scroll down to read my blogs of March 6, 2017: “Strutting Your Stuff,” and October 6, 2015: “Getting Noticed.”)
You don’t have to be the hit of the party; you don’t have to be the most lavishly dressed. However, with some minor alterations and a drizzle of behavior modification, you might share some of that attention with the neons who so often seem to suck it up and hold onto it for themselves.
Rehearse at some gatherings you attend during this holiday season. Just like a recipe, start slowly flashing a bit of neon. The next time you have an opportunity, show a little more. Increase gradually and reassess after each time. Soon you will hit your sweet spot–just the right amount of neon that suits you. It’s different for everyone.
Have a happy holiday season! I’ll connect with you again next year.
Churners (11-27-22)
What is a churner? It is one who operates a device used to convert cream into butter by manipulating a rotating mechanism inside a churn (container). Work the churn long enough and, abracadabra, you have a rich, flavorful toast topper.
Some people are also churners but without the need of a churn. What do such churners do, you might ask? Well, they churn (agitate), of course. Bring a churner into a compatible group, and suddenly things become chaotic. What was once calm and stable changes to disruptive, divisive, and even combative. Certain personality types always seems to interject discord wherever they go.
Do you know anyone who is a churner? Possibly you are a churner yourself. As you’ve ascertained by now, I’m not talking about the guy/gal at the helm of a butter churn. What I’m talking about is the type who is always “churning up the waters” as the expression goes.
Why do churners behave like that? They probably don’t even know themselves. Some of it may have to do with attention seeking, but I suspect it’s deeper than that. It’s as basic as wanting to be in control. Churners like to disturb the calm and foment constant controversy and worry on the part of their victims. If you push everyone else off kilter, then you can swoop in and take over. It’s a power trip! Churner types manage to get themselves into advantageous positions so they can wreak havoc on those over whom they have such power.
Some in leadership roles use churning techniques as a management style. Politicians are often particularly adept churners. Churners can also be found much closer to home in the form of spouses, significant others, children, family members, teachers, employers, and the like. Whenever life seems to be going smoothly, you can bet your last shekel that they will be the ones to disrupt it.
How do you withstand a churner who has power over aspects of your life? How do you make it through his/her never ending threats, innuendos, loud asides, snide remarks, cruel nicknames, dismissals, put-downs, etc? There is only one way to survive anyone of this type, and that is to take their power away. Yes, I am aware of how difficult that is. Here’s a mantra you might use: Never want or need anything he/she has the power to give or take away. That’s pretty hard to do when the leverage they wield over you is something like your employment, your school grades, or your private life. However, it is the only way to slither out from under their control.
One technique when the craziness starts is to back away, decamp, get the hell out of there. Another option is confrontation which may sound something like this: “Oh, I see you’re churning again, so I’ll just leave.” Then, most importantly, follow through. When you do, they’ll stop because it’s not much fun to churn alone. After all, they need ingredients (a.k.a. you) to create butter.
If the situation becomes intolerable, you must make your plans to escape. If the relentless churner in your life is a boss, start thinking about transferring out of his/her department or looking for another job. If it is a spouse, start making your plans to wiggle out of the situation. If the churner has financial power over you, you may need to get a job if you don’t have one. If you lack skills, go to school or to a training program to acquire the expertise which will enable you to find employment and become financially independent.
I first heard that strategy discussed by a co-worker many years ago. She told me that soon after her young marriage, she realized she had made a terrible mistake in her choice of a husband who proved to be a controlling alcoholic. By that time, she was pregnant and dependent on him. So, she started making her plans. She went to college part-time which took many years before she graduated and was able to find a decent paying job. By the time she did so and left her husband, she had two children.
If you are burned out from forever being agitated by a churner in your life, do something about it. Map out your tactics, put them into effect, and stick to them no matter how long it takes, which could be years. You must be farsighted and forge a course of action for yourself. Only then can you work toward achieving your independence.
Wearing a Dog (11-13-22)
This is the third time I’ve used Pepe, delicious Pepe, in this forum as the star of one of my blogs. (To read my blog of 1-7-19, “Armful of Dogs,” click here and scroll down. To read my blog of 6-11-20, “Under the Covers,” click here and scroll down.)
Pepe is a tiny Chihuahua mix canine that shares a domicile with my friend, Janet. I make no property designations here since Pepe definitely owns Janet as much as the other way around. Another mighty mini-dog shares their abode, but it is more of the standoffish, barking persuasion. Nope, it’s Pepe for me.
I visited Janet several months ago for the first time since the Covid pandemic lockdown. I couldn’t get enough of Pepe and vice versa. In this photo, I’m wearing Pepe like a necklace—his idea.
Pepe is a lover, not a fighter—if you happen to be a human. If you are a dog, it’s another matter entirely. In that case, Pepe adheres to the old adage, “The best defense is a good offense.” Since I am in Pepe’s acceptable category, he and I got along famously. We hung out together. We took long walks on a leash, one of us at either end. And, as you can see in this photo, he commandeered my bed. Pepe is a delectable piece of candy that I can’t get enough of.
People are so often like Pepe. We are sweet and wonderful with dogs and other pets, but our interpersonal relationships with those of our own kind, namely Homo sapiens, are lacking. We spit and snarl; we posture and threaten. Why do we do that? Why do we exercise such hyper-vigilance, always on the defensive, always worried that someone is going to attack us?
It’s probably because we’ve been hurt in the past by those in our own species. Also, it might be a matter of competition, the nature inherent in us all. You know, “Kill before being killed,” or the modern version, “Grab everything that you can before someone else grabs it.”
What a burden we top level hominids carry around. That attitude and attendant behavior usually invite the very reaction in others that we so fear. Try out on your fellow man the approach you use with animals. See if it yields greater success in getting along than your previous method.
Cherish Old Things (10-31-22)
We cherish old objects. We put them in a special category: “antiques.” We treasure them and assign them special places in our homes: the living room, the mantle, a dedicated wall. But what is the good of this old junk?
Antiques remind us of our ancestors. They give us a connection to history. They are beautiful, even when technically ugly. Even the creaky joints and out-of-date functions of some are tolerated due to their age.
What about old people? Do they have the same attributes? Do they command the same respect? They should! They are our tribal elders. They are the living recallers of the past who connect us with what went before. They hold and preserve our heritage. I have written on this topic before in this forum. (Click here to read my blog of 2-17-20: “Tribal Elders.”)
Several years ago, I had a classmate in a community Spanish class, Rose Freedman, who was 100 years old, vivacious, and full of personality. She always arrived well decked out with her homework completed. Rosa, as we called her in class, was the last survivor of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire which had occurred in New York City in 1911. It caused the death of 146 garment workers, mostly young immigrant women and girls. One day, Rose held us spellbound as she recounted how she had survived by following the supervisors upstairs to the roof and over the catwalk to the next building instead of trying to go down the smoke filled staircases. BTW Rose lived to the age of 107. She was fascinating, vibrant, and engaging until she died. (I have written about this remarkable women before in this forum. Click here to read my blog of 12-24-17 “The Time We Have Left.”)
As we enter old age ourselves, are we cherished? Do younger generations realize the value that we offer? Not always. Often, the realization does not come upon people until they themselves are entering old age as to how special a place it is. It’s a club with exclusive membership and certainly not for lightweights.
If you are in your dotage, set an example of that demographic. Show the world that you are proud, positive, and have worth. Flex those senior muscles by demonstrating your smarts and your savvy. Instead of whining about your latest ache or pain, drop a nugget of knowledge about the current political scene or the winning sports team. A line or two about the (fill in the blank), how to repair a (fill in the blank), or what to do in case of an (fill in the blank) wouldn’t hurt, either.
Be a role model instead of someone to be avoided. You hold an important place in society that only you and your peers can fill.
There's More to Life than Just Getting Through it (10-16-22)
Some people seem to slog their way through life as though pulling an invisible ball and chain along with them. Their waking hours consist of dragging themselves from one necessary-for-survival function to another. Many of these folks may be depressed, discouraged, or just have an overall pessimistic view about most things. Others are on two speeds: breakneck or catatonic. Those are also avoidance techniques.
Being alive is indeed frightening and anxiety provoking. However, it’s sad when life’s only purpose is just to get through it. That, of course, is one component of “we all are born and must die.” However, along that journey from Point A to Point B, what else is going on? Is there anything worthwhile about the getting-through-it part?
The truth is that it’s all around us hiding in plain sight. Upbeat feelings don’t have to cost money. They don’t have to come from one more expensive toy. They can emanate from a stroll in your neighborhood, taking any opportunities that come along.
Not long ago, while walking around my community, I saw a garage door open and a man sitting inside near the entrance working with a block of stone on a table. I stopped and asked him about it. He was more than happy to share. He was carving a piece of alabaster into an interesting shape. He showed me a picture of what he was trying to make. He had tools such as a long, round file to get into small places. He mentioned that he had been making such sculptures for the past twenty years. Both he and I enjoyed our exchange.
I continued walking and got delight from looking at the tiny Scarlet Pimpernel flowers growing near the curb. I felt satisfaction from feeling my body strain against the incline of the sidewalk. A stand of giant redwood trees brought joy. A hummingbird visiting a plant outside my window to harvest the nectar from its blossoms gives me pleasure completely out of proportion to its tiny size. Such experiences exist all around you. Don’t waste them.
During the pandemic lockdown, I got a phone call from a very casual acquaintance–a classmate from a Zoom class I was attending. I opened with the standard, “Hi, how are you?”
Wrong!
“Terrible!” she answered.
Late for an appointment and not wanting to get embroiled in a long discussion of the “terrible” of someone I barely knew, I responded, “So, what brings you to call?
Fortunately, she stated her business, and we discussed it briefly. However, as I’ve learned, when someone throws out bait like “terrible” and it isn’t picked up, they are going to segue back to it. And, so she did.
She proceeded to discuss the details of something that had occurred to her earlier that day which to my mind was a minor inconvenience. She still had food, shelter, and comfort in those early days of Covid 19. The whole story just made me weary. Yes, it’s all relative, and each person’s dissatisfactions are valid. I don’t mean to minimize them; I have mine, too. But, let’s have some perspective here.
There are many things that, although fleeting, make the trip of life meaningful. Aren’t they in and of themselves worthwhile? It’s true that they don’t stay around long, but a taste of them compels us to keep seeking more. Good feelings are like a drug, addicting us to crave them again and again.
There’s nothing wrong with that; they are our motivators. Without such payback, life would indeed be glum. How lucky we humans are to have the capacity to experience those various hits of positivity. That’s what keeps us going.
Constant Motion (10-3-22)
I forever seem to be in constant motion, like a spinning top. I’m always doing something. Even when I’m home, I never just sit and look out the window. I’m on my computer; I’m preparing food; I’m cleaning, putting in a load of wash, going through a script for a play I want to audition for, reading material or writing material for an upcoming class, talking on the phone…
Even my vacations are the active type. Lying on the beach under a palm tree reading a book in some tropical location doesn’t cut it. I want to check out the wildlife, forests, museums, or native peoples and their culture. If sports are involved, I want to go skiing, on a zip line, horseback riding (or, in my case, horseback walking—but hey, I’m up; I’m moving forward; and I’m not bleeding). I loved it when I was on a small boat in Mexico touching whales. Any place with some excitement or stimulation attached to it is for me!
I’m a Type A personality, and pure, uninterrupted relaxation is a foreign concept. My fellow Type A-ers know what I’m talking about.
I’m trying to do better, because I know it’s beneficial for me to slow down. My slowing down in recent years has come in the form of staying home more often–cutting down on the running around. However, even being at home seems like a marathon as I mentioned above. I barely know what my backyard looks like. Occasionally, during my at home time, I’ll glance out of the window.
Gee, it’s beautiful out there. Okay, enough of that; now, I have a blog to write.
People like me and maybe like you or someone you know have to schedule downtime, because we forget to do it. Left to our own devices, we’re a gerbil running on an exercise wheel in its cage. I’ve written on this subject before. (Click here to read my blog of 4-29-2016: “Slowing Down, and here to read my blog of 8-29-2017, “Rest and Regenerate.”)
Don’t forget to relax, folks—really rest. And, when you do, remind me to do the same.
The Hunt vs. The Capture (9-19-22)
There are some people who will pursue another with vigorous means to entice their object of attention. This might include things such as seductive behavior, expensive gifts, abundant attention, and the like. However, once their prey becomes interested (on a scale from a small amount to full-out falling in love with them), the predator’s interest wanes. The latter may then start retreating by acting poorly toward the former: ignoring them, berating them, severing ties with them.
However, the scenario doesn’t end there. When the prey starts to distance his/herself, the predator is suddenly interested and switches to wooing mode once again. It’s a crazy making game that can go on for years. Obviously, the only way for the prey to avoid such a seesaw is to always act hard to get in order to continuously stimulate the predator’s interest and keep them in constant pursuit. What an exhausting way to live!
I once had such a relationship–short term fortunately. I was baffled and couldn’t get a grasp on what was going on. After a few months of this back and forth, I walked away to healthier grounds. When I discussed the matter with a friend, he said that some people get off on the hunt but become bored once they have captured their prey.
Why do predators behave this way? I’ll venture a guess: it has to do with basic insecurity on their part. Oh, they might not act insecure as they’ve spent decades covering up those feelings and presenting a façade of confidence and power to the world and to themselves. Nevertheless, those lack-of-worth seeds still survive within them and distort their behavior.
Once they’ve bagged their prey, the predator’s subconscious feelings of insecurity kick in to the tune of: I’m nothing, so if you care about me, you must be nothing, too. Therefore, I’m no longer interested in you because you are a low-value person. I’ve written on this topic before in this forum. (Click here to read my blog of 1-21-18, “Why Does He/She Treat Me So Badly?”)
Have you experienced such a relationship or relationships in your life as either the predator or the prey? It’s a sad situation to find yourself in and usually leads to one failed relationship after another.
If you are the predator, the first step in changing yourself, if you are so inclined, is to realize what you are doing and why. Then, when you enter the rejecting phase in a relationship, you can view it through your new lens of understanding. This may help you in choosing some behavior modification techniques to preserve your relationship. However, since you’ve spent years honing your hunt versus capture technique, it may require professional help for you to give it up.
If you are or have been prey to such behavior, acknowledge the dynamics in the relationship. Refuse to play the rejected role. Don’t expect your predator to change; it’s you who must change. If you have a history of such relationships, think about what attracts you to such a predator. If it is chronic, you, too, may require professional help to change.
To Predators: Others are not on this planet to help you play out your insecurities. Knock it off!
To Prey: Don’t waste your time and energy being played like a yo-yo. Realize your value and don’t let anyone take it from you.
Life Is a Math Problem (9-4-22)
Recently, I came upon an intriguing mathematics problem, author unknown, making its way around the internet: If you're going down a river at 2 MPH and your canoe loses a wheel, how much pancake mix would you need to re-shingle your roof? I hope none of my readers is actually trying to answer this question; it's just nonsensical fun.
In this world of fake news, endemic confusion, and inability or unwillingness to figure out and accept reality, we are suspicious of everything. We can't even take a joke. The aforementioned math puzzler is a spoof on our times.
Must we doubt everything? Must we question everything? How tiresome it's all becoming. Even truths we once considered carved in granite are now open for reinterpretation. It feels as if our bedrock is crumbling.
How do we survive such a shaky foundation? I've encountered many depressed people lately. They're overwhelmed by the current state of affairs: politics, the pandemic, wars, inflation, the effects of climate change, their personal lives, and on and on. They don't know how to cope.
I think the Alcoholics Anonymous creed of One day at a time is about as good as any to navigate our turbulent times. It teaches survival in small, manageable steps. If you adapt the goal of making it just from when you wake up in the morning to when you fall asleep at night, that might help steady you. It's not a solution to our great global problems, but it could be a balm to your distress caused by them.
Another worthwhile technique is the ancient adage: This, too, shall pass. Look back on your life. Lots of unbearable things finally ended or at least diminished in intensity. Nothing lasts forever.
These approaches don't work every time; they might work only sometimes. On the other hand, what's wrong with sometimes? It's certainly better than the alternative which is constant upset, anxiety, and angst.
Try it. See if you can compartmentalize. Give yourself a mental vacation from the considerations that are pulling you down. Allow yourself to postpone some of that pressing weight until tomorrow, or the next day, or next week, or...
Joy Spots (8-21-22)
Joy spots are just what they sound like: spots that bring you joy. Are there any joy spots in your life where you experience a bit of happiness when you encounter them such as a particular vista when you turn the corner or a tree that takes your breath away?
In my case, one of my special places features some exotic animals up a hill from a freeway that I travel often. There’s a zebra, a one-humped camel, four llamas, and most recently two magnificent cows and a bull showing off his impressive horns. I don’t know who they belong to or how they got there. I just know that I search for them each time I come upon the right location. When I’m lucky enough to spot them, it perks me up for that moment, for the next many moments, and sometimes even for the whole day. I've written about these animals recently in this forum. (Click here and scroll down to read my blog of 4-3-22 "Bucolicity.")
Many years ago, while living at my prior residence, I used to pass a mature, weeping willow tree. Its setting was perfect: on the front lawn of a beautiful, Spanish style house. I always considered it my treat for the day. I enjoyed it so much that I often took the longer route to get where I was going just so I could revel in that flora. These days, there are some majestic, full-size redwood trees near where I live. They never cease to amaze me whenever I pass them.
Is there a place or several places which you journey by regularly that give you a bump? Maybe it’s a playground with children frolicking as they scream out their exuberance; perhaps it’s the park bench throne where an elderly person holds court to a kingdom of pigeons as he/she tosses them bread crumbs; possibly it’s a pond where folks in small boats skim the surface; it might be a stretch of road frequented by joggers or bicyclists in their colorful gear; or it could be the local house of faith with its catchy, inspirational message of the week mounted on changeable signage on the front lawn.
It's a privilege to have joy spots as part of your life. Don't take them for granted. Pay them the respect they deserve when you happen by. Let your eyes feast on what they offer. Let them calm your anxiety and uptightness.
We all need a joy spot or two or ten in our lives. Find some pearls on the routes you navigate on a regular basis, anticipate them, and give yourself a free, anti-anxiety pill without the possible drug side effects.
Covid Is Tamed, Not Conquered (8-7-22)
So many people I know are contracting Covid. There are those who have mild cases, while others get pretty sick. A given individual falls ill, yet his/her spouse, children, or various residents in the same household are spared. Science has no idea why. It’s a crapshoot! Who will win and who will lose? Maybe it’s nature’s way of thinning the herd. Are there just too many of us for our planetary resources?
At least we’re no longer hearing about hospitals overflowing, not enough ventilators or protective gear, and bodies stacking up in morgues. Fortunately for mankind, methods such as vaccines, mask wearing, and social distancing are working. Nevertheless, Covid remains a part of our new reality currently and probably well into our futures.
So how do we survive and thrive while sharing our world with Covid? That’s a hard one. Each person has their own
methods and their own philosophy. Some crouch in fear inside their abodes, refusing to venture outside. Others take
unreasonable chances under the premise that they have only one life to live, and they choose to roll the figurative dice.
My take falls somewhere in between those extremes. I am no longer isolating inside my home. I go out and about but with caution. Whenever I enter a structure such as a market or bank, I always wear a mask. When I want to go to a restaurant, I seek those with outdoor patios. I avoid large public, indoor spaces such as movie theaters. I get together with friends and family in small groups. I decline most invitations to large social gatherings which are held indoors.
As much as I love to travel, I refuse to go to airports, train stations, or on cruise ships. Any travel I do is by car. Whenever I allow an unknown worker or service person into my home, I always wear a mask and insist they do likewise.
This is the lifestyle I have settled upon for myself on this day and at this stage of Covid. I am flexible; my behavior will change as our Covid control measures improve or as a new Covid variant takes hold.
Decide on your own comfort level with this endemic virus. It is part of our existence now, and we must learn to live with it.
French Toast (7-25-22)
I love French toast–that is, after I avoid making it by employing every excuse or diversion I can muster. I’m not sure why I do that, but the answer might lie in the effort to bring it to fruition; the tiresome cleanup; the bread with its excess of carbs that proceeds directly from my mouth to my hips without passing Go; and even more calories from the toppings: butter, syrup, and powdered sugar. (Tip: You can switch out the toppings with equally fattening fare.)
Once I have the French toast sitting on a plate in front of me, I slather, pour, and dig in.
Yum, why don’t I eat this more often?
The sentiment doesn’t last long. The next time I contemplate making French toast, the same evasion sets in. I visualize that societal finger wagging.
Many things in life are like French toast. Taking a shower is another for me. It seems like such a waste of time when I could be doing something else much more satisfying or productive. I think up all kinds of reasons to delay it: I need to make a phone call first; I want to research a matter on the internet first; I have to exercise first; I have to eat breakfast first; I have to…I have to… Of course, I could skip a shower altogether, but I run the risk of folks steering clear of me despite my charming personality.
After I finish my personal hygiene routine and cleaning up after myself, a precious hour of my life has elapsed. I could have been writing my next blog, for goodness sake. The strange thing is that once I’m in the shower with the warm water falling on me, I love it. Then, I delay getting out.
Just one more minute…this is my reward for doing my diligence…it’s good for my soul!
Another French toast moment that comes to mind is the onerous preparation of my income taxes. Oh yes, I can procrastinate on that until the last possible minute. Once I get into it and organize everything, however, there’s an immense gratification. I enjoy making my life orderly.
How many F. T. items do you have in your life? It’s always a contest between our requirements and our joys. There are all kinds of proverbs dealing with this issue such as: “Never put off to tomorrow what you can do today,” or “Cleanliness is next to Godliness” (for those of you with my shower affliction).
Life is full of F.T. examples. Nevertheless, we must perform them to make our lives run smoothly. Just slog through what you consider chores, so you can be done with them and get to the good stuff. You just might be surprised that the dreaded and delayed duties often yield a positive payoff.
Deliberate Confusion (7-11-22)
“Oh, I’m so confused.”
That refrain may be legitimate sometimes and manipulative at others. It’s the latter that I’ll address today.
Deliberate confusion is an effective tool used by some to delay, divert, and obfuscate. It’s a method to be able to claim that the reason you screwed up or failed to do what you should have done is because you were confused by the instructions. That effectively throws the blame onto the instruction giver.
“It’s your fault because you didn’t explain it clearly.”
One wonders then why the scenario is almost always in favor of the confused. The laws of chance dictate that it should
be pretty evenly split. Could the answer lie in the giveaway adjective, “deliberate”?
Such behavior is used regularly in everyday life. It’s also found in such high stakes professions as politician, attorney, and corporate leader. I have sometimes pondered if these types take a class in Confusion-1A in order to qualify for their jobs.
I recently heard about one particularly adroit practitioner of the legal arts who frequently "didn't understand." One wonders how he ever made it through law school. He got his comeuppance in an out-of-court conversation when his opponent also wondered if the judge in the case might understand better. Suddenly, our worthy lawyer experienced an "ah-ha" moment where he comprehended clearly.
Do you practice the artifice of deliberate confusion? Do you have an acquaintance, friend, or significant other who pulls it on you? Are you tired of it and want to escape from that particular hall of mirrors? Try the aforementioned technique. Propose to your opponent that you run the matter by (insert name of someone your opponent wouldn’t want involved). That may assist in clarifying the matter for him/her.
If you are among the deliberately confused, let me assure you that your ploy will soon become transparent if it is part of your modus operandi. It gets old real fast and is a turnoff to your victims. Be prepared to lose lots of relationships, and don’t be confused as to why folks are always bailing on you.
Amens and Attaboys (6-28-22)
We all need to be acknowledged when we’ve done a good job. It makes us feel validated and proud of ourselves. There's nothing wrong with that.
I have a reader who periodically responds to my blog posts with "amen." It’s her one-word kudos to me that I’ve hit a button for her. It represents a confirmation of the hard work and effort I put into creating and bringing that labor to fruition.
Too many hold back from offering positive feedback to others for a job well-done. I’m not sure why that is. I suspect it has something to do with feeling diminished as you think that your own status is lessened when you raise someone else's.
People seem much more able to offer criticism, but affirmations stick in their throat.
As I mentioned in my previous blog, I had been in rehearsals for a stage play. One of the other actors was working hard on his lines and came to each rehearsal well-prepared. However, he was having a lot of trouble managing a particular prop. I went up to him while we were backstage waiting to start and whispered in his ear, "you are doing a really good job." He just beamed. Then he started to explain how hard it was to manipulate the prop. He seemed desperate for someone to listen, understand, and weigh in. I told him not to worry about it, and that even if he messed it up, we'd just skip over the flub during the performance. He seemed so relieved by my brief attaboy. He's been very warm and friendly to me ever since.
Sprinkle those amens and attaboys liberally. Don’t withhold compliments when they are deserved. Be big enough to tell someone else that they did a good job. It doesn't mean that you are lesser than they are. It actually means that you are bigger than most people--big enough to acknowledge another human being. A few sincere words, a quick hug, or even just a simple pat on the back is all it takes, which costs you nothing. And, you just might make a new friend.
Grabbing Life (6-13-22)
We must all grab life with whatever means we have. Some of us have more capabilities than others. If you are not disabled, be mindful of how fortunate you are. Not everyone has your good luck.
If you are disabled, technology has provided you with assistive devices to make it easier for you to grab life. Use a wheelchair, walker, cane, or whatever to help you find a life worth grabbing.
Currently, I’m in rehearsal for a stage play produced by the drama club at my retirement community. When I auditioned for the part that I eventually booked, there were many people also there to audition. One was a woman sitting in a wheelchair. She maneuvered herself around the stage with no problem and no self-consciousness. What an inspiration!
Another member of our drama club is a very talented director, and I was privileged to be in a play a few years ago which he directed. He gets around on a motorized scooter. His talents as a director are not diminished by his assistive transportation mode. Throughout rehearsals, he just went about his business without giving any thought to the matter of his inability to walk. The actors in his play did the same. What an amazing person!
I’m really working hard now at my play rehearsals as are all the other actors and the director. None of us is being paid. I was wondering recently why I’m putting in that much time, effort, and energy into an endeavor that yields me no financial payback. The answer is obvious: my reward is “the sheer joy of it” and being around like-minded folks. Not everything that results in joy, excitement, and satisfaction stems from a financial transaction.
We all have a finite time of life. We also all have choices. Choose how you are going to live your remaining years, months, days, hours, minutes. If you decide to squander them on “poor me” behaviors, own the fact that you made that choice. It doesn’t have to continue that way, and you can reverse your choice at any time which, of course, is another choice.
Find your “sheer-joy-of-it” activity. Utilize whatever is available to assist you; there is no shame in that. Wheels versus legs still yields the same stage performance.
Pity Parties (5-30-22)
I have a friend who was involved in a serious bicycle accident a few years ago that left his face badly scarred. He began isolating, not wanting to go out in public because he felt so ashamed. He was convinced his appearance was off-putting to everyone.
Has something like that happened to you or someone you know? Certainly, if we feel unattractive according to current standards of acceptable appearance, it’s hard not to become disgusted by ourselves. We’ve all heard the old adage: “Beauty is only skin deep.” However, when it is you who is the not-so-beautiful one, it takes a strong person to go forth in spite of being physically unappealing, whether from birth or a future occurrence.
I once knew a man years ago who was born with a condition called giantism. He was large with very big hands and feet, and his facial features were all extremely exaggerated. Nevertheless, he projected such confidence and charisma that what was a shock upon first meeting him was soon forgotten. This man had a beautiful wife, two normal looking children, and was also an extremely successful businessman.
We all eventually learn to compensate for our shortcomings starting from early childhood. When a person is strong in some areas but weak in others, they naturally develop their strengths. That is how we decide what to study in higher education and what jobs to seek. Emphasize what you do well, and hone it to becoming adept and standing out in that pursuit.
If your imperfection happens later in life such as a sudden physical disfigurement, build up another area of your talents and lead with that in your interactions. For example, if you’ve always depended on your good looks and then lose them for whatever reason, develop that writing or musical skill that has been lurking in the background for decades.
Real friends don’t care about your impairments. We all have something wrong with our bodies both in our youth and as we age. Often, it is internal or mental, and it doesn’t show. That doesn’t mean it’s any less serious. Everyone needs loving support. Others understand and will react to you that way.
Try not to waste the precious time you have left wallowing in self-pity. I know it’s hard not to; we all end up there for a while and have to grieve our lacks or losses. But, then we must get back up on our bikes and cycle on.
Road Trippin' (5-16-22)
I wanted to attend an event hundreds of miles from my home. When I told my son that I planned to fly there, he freaked out.
“Mom, the planes have circulating air, so they’re not too bad. But, the airport can be a Covid superspreader!”
Somehow, he seemed okay with my driving, so that’s what I decided to do so as not to add further stress to his life. I was a little intimidated about making the trip by myself until I changed my mindset. Instead of thinking about it as a long excursion of hundreds of miles, I approached it as a bunch of short commutes. I would stop frequently to rest, walk around, and eat. Along the way, I would visit lots of family members and friends, staying a few days with each to break up my journey. With my new way of approaching the whole endeaver, it turned out to be a cinch.
It was a pleasant drive on a long straight highway. I enjoyed California’s agricultural heartland as I cruised along. The highway seemed to contain more giant trucks than cars. Those big rigs just kept coming, many of their cabs painted in spiffy colors presumably reflecting their drivers’ vibes. Do those bright tones perk up the long-haulers and help them stay alert as they wrangle their transports for thousands of miles? I enjoyed sharing my road with them as they carried fruits and vegetables from the surrounding land or cargo containers recently off-loaded from the ships moored in the ports of San Francisco and Oakland, all to quench our citizens’ appetites of various types. (I’ve written on this topic before in this forum after a similar trip six years ago. Click here and scroll down to read my blog of August 9, 2016, “Driving to My New Life.”)
I whizzed by growing produce. The farmers in the area had erected signs to inform passing motorists of their views about the government’s control over the water they need for their livelihood. A great engineering feat is responsible for that.
I paralleled and crisscrossed the remarkable California Aqueduct through various phases of my journey. It has brought the life-saving liquid to this parched land, allowing it to grow thirsty trees and crops. It’s impressive, and it’s also very political as to how that water is allocated.
The whole show was presided over by enormous electrical towers spaced regularly and stretching for miles. Just as the aqueduct carries the precious water throughout my state, those towers carry the precious electricity that we humans have come to depend on.
I sailed past patches of wild mustard, their perky yellow screaming for attention wherever they grew. As I continued, I also saw mining operations. I observed cattle grazing on hillsides and crowded together in fattening yards. I came upon construction equipment building infrastructure and new houses in recently leveled land developments. All are enterprises to keep our life as we know it going.
When I arrived at Pyramid Lake, I pulled over to rest and eat a sack lunch. People in other cars were doing the same.
After two wonderful weeks, my journey was almost over. I was sad to see it end but anxious to go home. One of the highlights of travel is the anticipation of both the departure and the return.
I’m proud of myself for my accomplishment. I did it and feel more emboldened. It’s a great sensation to conquer something that seems hard.
If an undertaking appears daunting to you, spin it into something doable. Breaking it into baby steps from a huge whole can help. It’s only a matter of interpretation.
Jealousy (5-3-22)
Are you jealous of others or of a particular other? That other could be someone with whom you have a long history such as a relative, friend, or neighbor. Or, it could be someone you’ve known for a short time or as an acquaintance such as a classmate, co-worker, or casual contact.
Do you pretend to yourself and the world that it doesn’t bother you although the truth is that it gnaws at you? When these types of involuntary feelings interfere with your life, well-being, and all around comfort, it’s time to admit it, examine it, and work on it.
Most of us experience some jealousy to one degree or another. It occurs in all ages, sexes, and strata of society. You may not even consciously realize that such envy is consuming you. As adults, we get pretty good at masking our feelings, even to ourselves. We offer excuses, explanations, and interpretations for our thoughts and actions. However, those may boil down to just plain old jealousy.
Here are a few questions to ponder: Although you may have been very accomplished at your career, did you always experience those envious sensations whenever you were around (fill in the blank) who had a more prestigious job? Did you make a lot of money at your chosen profession, but it just never seemed to hold its weight against (fill in the blank) who earned more, lived in a larger house, had more laudable children, spouse, pets…? Did you stop associating with (fill in the blank) as it was just too unsettling to be around him/her? Probably, they had no idea why you distanced yourself from them, and likely neither did you. These scenarios can be extrapolated to all sorts of circumstances. Think of one in your life.
Humans are always comparing themselves with others and trying to compete. We’re careful not to make it seem like a contest as that would appear too pretentious. Nevertheless, we do it anyway and just cover it over with socially acceptable behavior, speech, or any other tools we can use to flaunt our stuff without making it seem like we’re flaunting our stuff.
Hasn’t that gotten old? Isn’t it just too tiring and energy draining to play that game anymore? What a shame that so many seem driven to continue with such behavior which serves no purpose and doesn’t enhance them. We’re not truly mature until we can be okay with what we have accomplished and happy that another has achieved what they have. It’s time to grow up, people.
The Color Purple (4-19-22)
There is something about the color purple in all its hues that is intriguing. It’s rich and rare. The kings of old claimed it as their own, dubbing it “royal purple.”
Purple dye was first used in clothing in the 1200s BCE by the Phoenicians. It was obtained from sea snails found in the Mediterranean Sea. It was difficult to produce which made it expensive, so only the very wealthy could afford it.
Purple’s exclusivity carried down through the centuries and into the Elizabethan era (1558 to 1603). Colors, fabrics and clothing were strictly regulated as to which classes in English society could wear what. Only relatives of the royal family were allowed to wear purple. If it was part of your wardrobe, onlookers knew that not only were you of great means, but also that you were royalty.
Magnificent wisteria vines with their hanging, lavender flower clusters bestow that color upon us briefly in springtime. They surprise us in the most unlikely places such as alleyways, commercial businesses, parks, and residences. Other flowers also weigh in with breathtaking displays of purple.
We tend to use purple sparingly in our clothing, building colors, and everywhere else humans can choose the tints of commodities. It is almost too intense to use on an entire object or item to wear on our bodies.
Nevertheless, some have the audacity and confidence to flash purple in the most unexpected places. I came upon this purple car, a mustang convertible, that stood out in the parking lot of drab, mostly neutral colored automobiles. I can only imagine what the owner looked like. Did he/she/they wear exclusively purple attire and perhaps dye his/her/their hair to match? Or was the driver a milk-toast who blossomed briefly while in such a transport?
Purple of another shade is the color of the nectar of Dionysus (aka: Bacchus in Roman times), the son of Zeus (the big honcho). “Dion” held the enviable position of the Greek god of wine and the vine. He was believed to be responsible for the elixir which today we sip from special glasses with much decorum and ceremony. Wine has also been used historically by many religions and incorporated into their sacred rituals. On that point, I have to hand it to those early influencers of mankind’s spiritual beliefs; they sure knew how to party.
I’ve written in this forum before on the importance of color to the human experience. (Read my blog of 7-26-15: “Dare to Be Colorful.”) Incorporate purple into your life. It brings boldness and excitement to its devotees.
Bucolicity (4-3-22)
My title today is taken from the adjective: bucolic, meaning pastoral (relating to herdsmen) or more generically: idyllic. Yes, my word doesn’t technically exist. However, I periodically make up my own words when the English language fails me.
I frequently walk around my retirement community where I often encounter the resident animals. It’s particularly neat when different species hang out together, each doing their thing and not bothering their neighbor. I like to imagine it as my own little Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve couldn’t have had it better.
I also get a regular hit of bucolicity from a spit of undeveloped hillside off a freeway that I travel frequently. Someone, I don’t know who, has placed an array of herbivores on that land to graze on the wild grasses that grow there. Some are common: horses and cows, and some are exotic: several llamas; one camel, of the dromedary persuasion; and two zebras, a baby and an adult, obviously not kin as their stripes are completely different renderings. Although of various tribes, all of these creatures seem to get along as they chomp away in close proximity to each other. It’s certainly a lesson for humans.
Whenever I am driving near that area, I pull my car into the far right-hand lane and slow down as much as I can get away with, ignoring the honking horns behind me. Then, at just the exact right opening in the foliage, I look uphill to spy what awaits at that moment. I have to be quick, because in two seconds–three max, I’ve sailed past that magical place.
I shared my secret with a friend who also transits that route. She got as excited as I did. We decided to go exploring to see if we could get closer to the animals and just hang out as observers. A short time after we started on our quest, we sighted our beasts and exited the closest off-ramp to “the spot.” We wove through residential neighborhoods and up a canyon road to the top. Try as we might, we were never able to find them, elusive beings that they are. It didn’t matter really, because we had so much fun bonding over our shared experience.
Be kind to others from different herds; we all graze the same. Put your energy into finding simple joys as you go out and about. Survey your surroundings, not just the road ahead of you as you drive or your feet as you walk. Share your discoveries with friends. Grab a little bucolicity.
Pet Etiquette (3-20-22)
I’ve written often in this forum about animals. To read those blog posts, go to the following entries:
8-6-20: “Minis and Me”
10-1-19: “Touching a Giraffe”
5-27-19: “Watson”
1-7-19: “Armful of Dogs”
12-23-18: “Snowball”
10-13-18: “What’s in the Stroller”
11-3-15: “People Whisperer”
5-28-15: “Unstressing at the Airport, One Dog at a Time”
4-29-14: “Learning from Animals”
1-18-14: “The Therapy of Pets”
However, this is a different take.
We all love our pets whether they be dogs, cats, birds, horses, fish, or in my granddaughter’s case, a gecko named “Soy Sauce.” She and her father, my adorable son, make the periodic trek to the pet store to purchase live crickets for her cherished reptile. When I visit, she drags me into her room so I can watch “SS” stalk and capture its insect dinner.
Being subjected to an animal hunting its prey may not be to everyone’s liking. Why do pet owners expect others to be as fascinated with their darling critter as they are? Surely there should be some form of etiquette or sensitivity when sharing Fluffy, Fido, or SS with others. Here are some situations that I’ve encountered ranging from annoying to distressing:
Example 1: I was walking and came upon an acquaintance with her dog. The pooch was off leash and running unobstructed, often 25 to 30 feet from its human. I commented that the situation could pose problems, and that some people were afraid of dogs. What I got in return was a lengthy discourse on the wonderfulness of this particular hound including details of its delightful antics. In fact, the rest of the conversation was only about her treasure. She apparently had nothing else to talk about.
Example 2: I have a friend who has two cats. More than once when I’ve been talking to her on the phone, she has suddenly started screaming at one of the felines: “leave her alone.” In between her scolding, she’ll explain to me, as an aside, that one cat frequently attacks the other. Without taking a breath, she then returns to her verbal discipline of the offender. That leaves me sitting through her diatribe, a place where I definitely don’t want to be.
Example 3: Then there was a time when a woman who was the host of a zoom meeting cut all of the participants off. When everyone was able to re-gather online, she apologized explaining that her cat had walked across her computer keyboard. The host herself purred when other members joked that the cat was in charge in her household. She loved that, thinking it was a compliment. Honey, it was just the opposite. You wasted the time we had all allotted for the meeting simply because you thought giving your pet the run of your office was just so sweet.
Example 4: I can’t fail to add the time I was accosted two weeks in a row by a pair of vicious, unleashed Chihuahuas. They ran full speed toward me, stopping only a few feet before they reached me. Then, they held me at bay, barking and snarling so intensely that their bodies shook from the effort. I was terrified, fearing they would attack and do some significant injury to my lower extremities. Their owner loved to let his pets run free, and I suspect he got off when they frightened their victims. They were his avatars, paying back all the injustices he felt the world had done to him. FYI: I am allergic to all antibiotics but one, and I certainly didn’t want to test the efficacy of my ace-in-the-hole on dog bites.
I’m sure most people have encountered similar situations. I love animals, but my patience is limited to the amount of time I’m willing to devote to the topic of someone’s pet or being subjected to its bad behavior. It’s right up there with my feelings about being regaled by your travel pictures. I might be willing to glance at a shot or three of a monkey or even a flower. Amazing as it may seem, however, I’m not interested in a camera rendering complete with your accompanying comments about that darling couple from Cincinnati you met on your group safari in Africa, and that they have three kids, and he’s a doctor, and she’s a therapist, and…, and…, and…
Have a little common sense, folks, and practice the golden rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Remember, I, too, can bore you with my pet stories or zap you with my travel photos.
Ace That Landing (3-6-22)
Landing means we start off in one location and then arrive somewhere else. It is often used when our feet leave earth and reconnect at a later time: air flights, ship cruises, jumping off a cliff (preferably with a parachute), and even many athletic events.
Terra firma is where we are anchored and where we feel the safest and steadiest. Gravitational pull is behind it all. When we move further from that force of nature, we become unbalanced and off-kilter. The act of falling creates such a sensation.
Landing can also be used in another sense to indicate mental, emotional, or behavioral progression from one lifestyle to another. That is the aim of everyone who strives for improvement or is dissatisfied with their current state of affairs. We have expressions to describe various types of landings: he landed on his feet; have a safe landing.
Do you strive to land on a lofty mark? Knowing where you want to alight, be it physically or metaphorically, will help ensure that the outcome is on target and to your satisfaction. Therefore, folks must plan in advance where they hope to end up. This is called: a goal.
Prior to takeoff, careful consideration of all factors that may thwart reaching the coveted endgame will help insure its success. Caveat: Life never has any guarantees; we can only do our best.
Some people just dive in without much prior deliberation about potential roadblocks to their plans. They are called impulsive. That’s not necessarily wrong; there is no right or wrong here. However, those who act with aforethought usually have a higher rate of success.
Why would you expend time, energy, effort, and money toward a project important to you on a whim? For example, why write a book only to find out after it’s published that everyone and his third cousin twice removed has written on the same subject, thereby diluting the impact of your masterpiece? If that works for you, of course, go for it. Maybe your goal is something other than fame and fortune, and it doesn’t matter if others have already invented that particular wheel.
On the other hand, if you really want your efforts to pay dividends, put a governor on your impulsive behavior. Allot some time to do your research, network with others, read books and articles on the subject, and seek mentors. Efforts such as these will assist you in considering obstacles that you might encounter along the way and making wise decisions to help ensure a successful conclusion.
CHITCHAT: Recently, I was profiled on the podcast, “Happiness between Tails,” about my self-help book, Reinventing Yourself in Your Retirement Years: Find Joy Excitement, and Purpose After You Retire. You can access it by clicking on https://anchor.fm/depe9
When Caretakers Fall Short (2-21-22)
When a family member, friend, or even an acquaintance has become infirm either gradually or suddenly, it is frustrating not to be able to contact them. We want to communicate with him or her; we want them to know we care; we want to offer our assistance; we want a status update.
If a caretaker is involved whether it be a spouse, other relative, or hired worker, they may become the gatekeeper with power to grant or deny us access to their charge. We become annoyed when that caretaker doesn’t answer our phone calls (the line is always busy or the answering machine is disabled), doesn’t respond to our emails or voicemails, or fails to open the door if we make a personal visit and ring the bell repeatedly followed by pounding on the unyielding entrance.
We must remember to be gentle with the caretaker, too. That person probably has their own personal issues (we all have them) whether they be health, financial, interpersonal, or whatever. If the caretaker has a close relationship with the patient, they are probably overwhelmed with the trauma of their loved one’s serious disability, becoming a full-time caretaker, and having to assume all the responsibilities for them both.
If friends and interested parties are barraging the caretaker trying to reach the sick one or find out about their status, the caretaker may be setting boundaries to protect their own fragile state. (I’ve written on this subject previously in this forum. Read my blog of 10-12-17: “Taking Care of the Caretaker.”)
I have a good friend who was active and vibrant up to the day she recently had a stroke and became unable to talk or walk. One of her children instantly became her full-time caretaker. Friends trying to contact her have become annoyed and even angry at the daughter for her limited response.
Be understanding. Keeping outsiders up-to-date is very low on the list of priorities when looking after a seriously ill person. If you are concerned about whether the patient is not being cared for properly or is even in danger, a call to your local, social welfare agency might be in order. If you believe the caretaker is truly acting in the patient’s best interests, you may have to put your own needs on hold. If you want to help in some way, consider leaving a care package (food, clothing, flowers, etc.) at the front door or sending something similar through the mail.
Try to be sensitive to a very difficult situation. Remember, it’s not all about you and your needs.
The Ultimate Recycling (2-6-22)
Where do we go when we die? Philosophers, theologians, and just ordinary folks have been pondering that question for centuries. Religions create elaborate stories about what becomes of us after we are deceased. Rewards and punishments may be attached to those beliefs, and they are usually dependent on what type of life one has led when they were still living.
Science also weighs in on the matter. The Laws of Physics, especially “The Law of Conservation of Mass,” says that matter cannot be created or destroyed; it just changes form. Think about water (H2O in chemical terms). It alters its configuration according to the temperature where it is located. If the weather is very cold, it may freeze into ice. If the climate is mild or moderate, it will be a liquid. If it becomes very hot, it morphs into a gas.
We are like water. Eventually, after we die, we will change form at the atomic level. Maybe one day we’ll combine with other atoms and become part of a tree or anything else you might think of. Being a component of a tree actually doesn’t sound so bad. As a tree, we will get to enjoy the sweet things of life: wind whipping through our hair–ah, branches; our beautiful attire (aka foliage); birds alighting on our boughs and setting up household; people admiring us and sheltering in our shade; or kids hanging a swing from our limbs and cavorting under us–maybe even our own progeny.
Prior to your body disintegrating and joining the great universe, there is another use you can choose for it. It is accessed through the “Willed Body Program.” My parents donated their bodies to a medical school to help advance scientific research for the betterment of those still alive or not yet born. I have chosen to do the same.
If that is something that appeals to you, just contact a local university that has a medical school, and inquire about their Willed Body Program. They probably have details on their website, or they will mail you literature about it along with a form to fill out and return. Once they receive your signed authorization, you will be sent a card with their contact information to keep in your wallet stating that you are enrolled in their program and instructing whomever has custody of your corpus when you pass away to get in touch with them. Once they are notified, they will dispatch someone to pick up your remains.
We must be grateful to those who came before us and made the decision to recycle themselves for the good of mankind; we are among their beneficiaries. Such an act is true altruism, and it can have a secondary effect of making the donor feel good about themselves while they’re still living.
Life is a cycle; we move through it in various forms. Maybe such a realization can make our looming human death a little less frightening.
Schlepping (1-24-22)
Most of us schlep (Yiddish for drag or carry) lots of stuff to sustain us when we go out and about. The majority of animals simply forage for what they need. However, we humans, the highest form of animal life, must have our necessities immediately at hand. To that end, we have devised portable personal containers: purses, pockets, backpacks, briefcases, and the like as well as devices that strap to bodily appendages or hang from other appropriate parts.
I saw a construction truck hauling a porta-potty lest the driver find himself on a job with nowhere to do his thing. It reminds me of when one of my grandchildren was a toddler and used to tow her potty chair from room to room. She would proceed to sit astride it in front of her audience so they could observe her wondrous deed and heap praise upon her.
Some years ago, a friend remarked that as she has aged, her makeup bag has gotten heavier and heavier. Each has their own priority of schlepables. If you ever visit an airport, you will see travelers carrying, pushing, or pulling numerous suitcases, all containing the urgent gear they can’t live without.
How the heartbeat quickens when you realize you’ve left your cell phone home, or worse, lost it. OTOH what a lovely vacation from the bondage imposed upon us by that infernal device.
How can we ease our lives and break the umbilical cord which binds us to our belongings? How do we divest rather than invest? In the olden days (ah, the glorious–or not-so-glorious–olden days), there just wasn’t as much stuff around, so folks did with less. Today, our stress level is accelerated just wrangling our material possessions.
What about the thought of actually taking a vacation not only from your job and home, but also from your paraphernalia? Are you man/woman enough to do it?
Plan a trip somewhere be it a few miles away or another country. Leave your technology behind: computer, cell phone, camera, and all the chargers, adaptors, and cords that must accompany them. Live for a while without being connected to everyone and everything. Take photos only in your mind. Pack the bare minimum. You don’t need numerous outfits for every occasion with the jewelry and shoes to go with them. Although hard to fathom, the world will carry on just fine without your input, and you can jump right back into the craziness upon your return.
Work toward simplification; stop buying new things; make do with what you have. Get rid of items which you rarely or never use whose only function is to occupy space. Ramp down that stress level. Take back your life!
Beware of Leg Lifts (1-10-22)
As I’ve written in this forum before, I hate it when my body doesn’t cooperate with my lifestyle. For the past five months, my lower back has been giving me grief. The worst part is that it’s my own fault. I keep forgetting I’m a senior. Pre-pandemic, I used to frequent the gym several times a week. However, I hadn’t done so for the previous 1.5+ years since the beginning of the Covid lockdown.
My motivation to exercise alone at home is limited; my workout mode functions best when surrounded by fellow sufferers. So, my former physical agility is a tad less agile.
After receiving science’s gift to mankind, the Covid vaccine, I allowed myself a little less caution. With trepidation, I returned to the gym albeit fully masked. While on the treadmill, someone mentioned that a Pilates class was starting soon. I had never attended Pilates before, so I figured, Why not?
I followed the others into an exercise room, grabbed a mat, and secured myself a spot on the floor. The revered instructor soon arrived, a tall, thin man with no visible body fat who appeared to be one-third my age and in great physical shape. He proceeded to maneuver his limbs into various positions. I, along with everyone else, mimicked him.
I was doing pretty well, I felt. I noticed that the woman next to me, who seemed closer to my age, was a real superstar. She had mentioned earlier that she did Pilates faithfully throughout the lockdown to keep herself from going insane. What can I say? Some practice Pilates and some write blogs.
After several exercises, Revered Instructor was soon supine (down on his mat lying on his back). Instantly, all class members assumed that position. After a variety of stretching machinations, R.I. lifted both his outstretched legs to a 45° angle and held them there. Superstar did the same followed by the others and, of course, by me. R.I. held that position while opening and closing his legs scissors-like. Superstar performed the same effortlessly. I, on the other hand, was groaning but determined. Finally, that particular torture ended, and I had survived. I was proud of myself.
Hey, I’ve still got what it takes, I thought smugly.
That night, I could barely move. My back was having none of my smugness. Its pain controlled me for the next five months, only releasing its grip gradually in minuscule increments.
Today, for the first time, I went on a hike in my favorite wilderness area near my retirement community. I have written about hiking in this area before. (Click here to read my blog of 3-31-20, “Out and About in the Time of Covid 19.”)
I have learned my lesson. As I’ve also said in this forum previously, not everything is for everyone. (Click here to read my blog of 10-18-21, “Not Everything is Everyone’s Thing.”) The "Supine Leg Raise"/hold at 45° is definitely not for me! Fortunately, my brain and fingers still work, so at least I can write, which I love. When one passion goes sideways, what is your “at least” option? We all have one. You may have to dig deep to find it, but it’s there.
Who are neon people? They are humans who do something to stand out. They might wear neon clothing while bicycling to make sure they can be seen easily and therefore avoid being hit by cars. “Neon personhood” can be expanded from that example.
Some people just seem to draw attention. It might be their looks, attractive or not; it might be their clothing, expensive or not; it might be their behavior, proper or not. But there’s something about them that makes others turn and observe.
Are you a neon person? Some people are natural neons. They don’t think twice about it. It’s simply who they are.
There’s just so much attention in the world to go around. Humans compete with each other for it. Winners of those contests get more, losers less. However, we all deserve some. If attracting it is not natural to you, how do you grab a portion? How do you become a neon person?
The best way is to study the natural neons of this world. What is it about them? Perhaps you can incorporate some of those traits into your own behavior. If it feels odd, uncomfortable, or not your style, try it out. The more you practice, the easier it becomes. I’ve written on this topic in this forum before. (Click on these links and scroll down to read my blogs of March 6, 2017: “Strutting Your Stuff,” and October 6, 2015: “Getting Noticed.”)
You don’t have to be the hit of the party; you don’t have to be the most lavishly dressed. However, with some minor alterations and a drizzle of behavior modification, you might share some of that attention with the neons who so often seem to suck it up and hold onto it for themselves.
Rehearse at some gatherings you attend during this holiday season. Just like a recipe, start slowly flashing a bit of neon. The next time you have an opportunity, show a little more. Increase gradually and reassess after each time. Soon you will hit your sweet spot–just the right amount of neon that suits you. It’s different for everyone.
Have a happy holiday season! I’ll connect with you again next year.
Churners (11-27-22)
What is a churner? It is one who operates a device used to convert cream into butter by manipulating a rotating mechanism inside a churn (container). Work the churn long enough and, abracadabra, you have a rich, flavorful toast topper.
Some people are also churners but without the need of a churn. What do such churners do, you might ask? Well, they churn (agitate), of course. Bring a churner into a compatible group, and suddenly things become chaotic. What was once calm and stable changes to disruptive, divisive, and even combative. Certain personality types always seems to interject discord wherever they go.
Do you know anyone who is a churner? Possibly you are a churner yourself. As you’ve ascertained by now, I’m not talking about the guy/gal at the helm of a butter churn. What I’m talking about is the type who is always “churning up the waters” as the expression goes.
Why do churners behave like that? They probably don’t even know themselves. Some of it may have to do with attention seeking, but I suspect it’s deeper than that. It’s as basic as wanting to be in control. Churners like to disturb the calm and foment constant controversy and worry on the part of their victims. If you push everyone else off kilter, then you can swoop in and take over. It’s a power trip! Churner types manage to get themselves into advantageous positions so they can wreak havoc on those over whom they have such power.
Some in leadership roles use churning techniques as a management style. Politicians are often particularly adept churners. Churners can also be found much closer to home in the form of spouses, significant others, children, family members, teachers, employers, and the like. Whenever life seems to be going smoothly, you can bet your last shekel that they will be the ones to disrupt it.
How do you withstand a churner who has power over aspects of your life? How do you make it through his/her never ending threats, innuendos, loud asides, snide remarks, cruel nicknames, dismissals, put-downs, etc? There is only one way to survive anyone of this type, and that is to take their power away. Yes, I am aware of how difficult that is. Here’s a mantra you might use: Never want or need anything he/she has the power to give or take away. That’s pretty hard to do when the leverage they wield over you is something like your employment, your school grades, or your private life. However, it is the only way to slither out from under their control.
One technique when the craziness starts is to back away, decamp, get the hell out of there. Another option is confrontation which may sound something like this: “Oh, I see you’re churning again, so I’ll just leave.” Then, most importantly, follow through. When you do, they’ll stop because it’s not much fun to churn alone. After all, they need ingredients (a.k.a. you) to create butter.
If the situation becomes intolerable, you must make your plans to escape. If the relentless churner in your life is a boss, start thinking about transferring out of his/her department or looking for another job. If it is a spouse, start making your plans to wiggle out of the situation. If the churner has financial power over you, you may need to get a job if you don’t have one. If you lack skills, go to school or to a training program to acquire the expertise which will enable you to find employment and become financially independent.
I first heard that strategy discussed by a co-worker many years ago. She told me that soon after her young marriage, she realized she had made a terrible mistake in her choice of a husband who proved to be a controlling alcoholic. By that time, she was pregnant and dependent on him. So, she started making her plans. She went to college part-time which took many years before she graduated and was able to find a decent paying job. By the time she did so and left her husband, she had two children.
If you are burned out from forever being agitated by a churner in your life, do something about it. Map out your tactics, put them into effect, and stick to them no matter how long it takes, which could be years. You must be farsighted and forge a course of action for yourself. Only then can you work toward achieving your independence.
Wearing a Dog (11-13-22)
This is the third time I’ve used Pepe, delicious Pepe, in this forum as the star of one of my blogs. (To read my blog of 1-7-19, “Armful of Dogs,” click here and scroll down. To read my blog of 6-11-20, “Under the Covers,” click here and scroll down.)
Pepe is a tiny Chihuahua mix canine that shares a domicile with my friend, Janet. I make no property designations here since Pepe definitely owns Janet as much as the other way around. Another mighty mini-dog shares their abode, but it is more of the standoffish, barking persuasion. Nope, it’s Pepe for me.
I visited Janet several months ago for the first time since the Covid pandemic lockdown. I couldn’t get enough of Pepe and vice versa. In this photo, I’m wearing Pepe like a necklace—his idea.
Pepe is a lover, not a fighter—if you happen to be a human. If you are a dog, it’s another matter entirely. In that case, Pepe adheres to the old adage, “The best defense is a good offense.” Since I am in Pepe’s acceptable category, he and I got along famously. We hung out together. We took long walks on a leash, one of us at either end. And, as you can see in this photo, he commandeered my bed. Pepe is a delectable piece of candy that I can’t get enough of.
People are so often like Pepe. We are sweet and wonderful with dogs and other pets, but our interpersonal relationships with those of our own kind, namely Homo sapiens, are lacking. We spit and snarl; we posture and threaten. Why do we do that? Why do we exercise such hyper-vigilance, always on the defensive, always worried that someone is going to attack us?
It’s probably because we’ve been hurt in the past by those in our own species. Also, it might be a matter of competition, the nature inherent in us all. You know, “Kill before being killed,” or the modern version, “Grab everything that you can before someone else grabs it.”
What a burden we top level hominids carry around. That attitude and attendant behavior usually invite the very reaction in others that we so fear. Try out on your fellow man the approach you use with animals. See if it yields greater success in getting along than your previous method.
Cherish Old Things (10-31-22)
We cherish old objects. We put them in a special category: “antiques.” We treasure them and assign them special places in our homes: the living room, the mantle, a dedicated wall. But what is the good of this old junk?
Antiques remind us of our ancestors. They give us a connection to history. They are beautiful, even when technically ugly. Even the creaky joints and out-of-date functions of some are tolerated due to their age.
What about old people? Do they have the same attributes? Do they command the same respect? They should! They are our tribal elders. They are the living recallers of the past who connect us with what went before. They hold and preserve our heritage. I have written on this topic before in this forum. (Click here to read my blog of 2-17-20: “Tribal Elders.”)
Several years ago, I had a classmate in a community Spanish class, Rose Freedman, who was 100 years old, vivacious, and full of personality. She always arrived well decked out with her homework completed. Rosa, as we called her in class, was the last survivor of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire which had occurred in New York City in 1911. It caused the death of 146 garment workers, mostly young immigrant women and girls. One day, Rose held us spellbound as she recounted how she had survived by following the supervisors upstairs to the roof and over the catwalk to the next building instead of trying to go down the smoke filled staircases. BTW Rose lived to the age of 107. She was fascinating, vibrant, and engaging until she died. (I have written about this remarkable women before in this forum. Click here to read my blog of 12-24-17 “The Time We Have Left.”)
As we enter old age ourselves, are we cherished? Do younger generations realize the value that we offer? Not always. Often, the realization does not come upon people until they themselves are entering old age as to how special a place it is. It’s a club with exclusive membership and certainly not for lightweights.
If you are in your dotage, set an example of that demographic. Show the world that you are proud, positive, and have worth. Flex those senior muscles by demonstrating your smarts and your savvy. Instead of whining about your latest ache or pain, drop a nugget of knowledge about the current political scene or the winning sports team. A line or two about the (fill in the blank), how to repair a (fill in the blank), or what to do in case of an (fill in the blank) wouldn’t hurt, either.
Be a role model instead of someone to be avoided. You hold an important place in society that only you and your peers can fill.
There's More to Life than Just Getting Through it (10-16-22)
Some people seem to slog their way through life as though pulling an invisible ball and chain along with them. Their waking hours consist of dragging themselves from one necessary-for-survival function to another. Many of these folks may be depressed, discouraged, or just have an overall pessimistic view about most things. Others are on two speeds: breakneck or catatonic. Those are also avoidance techniques.
Being alive is indeed frightening and anxiety provoking. However, it’s sad when life’s only purpose is just to get through it. That, of course, is one component of “we all are born and must die.” However, along that journey from Point A to Point B, what else is going on? Is there anything worthwhile about the getting-through-it part?
The truth is that it’s all around us hiding in plain sight. Upbeat feelings don’t have to cost money. They don’t have to come from one more expensive toy. They can emanate from a stroll in your neighborhood, taking any opportunities that come along.
Not long ago, while walking around my community, I saw a garage door open and a man sitting inside near the entrance working with a block of stone on a table. I stopped and asked him about it. He was more than happy to share. He was carving a piece of alabaster into an interesting shape. He showed me a picture of what he was trying to make. He had tools such as a long, round file to get into small places. He mentioned that he had been making such sculptures for the past twenty years. Both he and I enjoyed our exchange.
I continued walking and got delight from looking at the tiny Scarlet Pimpernel flowers growing near the curb. I felt satisfaction from feeling my body strain against the incline of the sidewalk. A stand of giant redwood trees brought joy. A hummingbird visiting a plant outside my window to harvest the nectar from its blossoms gives me pleasure completely out of proportion to its tiny size. Such experiences exist all around you. Don’t waste them.
During the pandemic lockdown, I got a phone call from a very casual acquaintance–a classmate from a Zoom class I was attending. I opened with the standard, “Hi, how are you?”
Wrong!
“Terrible!” she answered.
Late for an appointment and not wanting to get embroiled in a long discussion of the “terrible” of someone I barely knew, I responded, “So, what brings you to call?
Fortunately, she stated her business, and we discussed it briefly. However, as I’ve learned, when someone throws out bait like “terrible” and it isn’t picked up, they are going to segue back to it. And, so she did.
She proceeded to discuss the details of something that had occurred to her earlier that day which to my mind was a minor inconvenience. She still had food, shelter, and comfort in those early days of Covid 19. The whole story just made me weary. Yes, it’s all relative, and each person’s dissatisfactions are valid. I don’t mean to minimize them; I have mine, too. But, let’s have some perspective here.
There are many things that, although fleeting, make the trip of life meaningful. Aren’t they in and of themselves worthwhile? It’s true that they don’t stay around long, but a taste of them compels us to keep seeking more. Good feelings are like a drug, addicting us to crave them again and again.
There’s nothing wrong with that; they are our motivators. Without such payback, life would indeed be glum. How lucky we humans are to have the capacity to experience those various hits of positivity. That’s what keeps us going.
Constant Motion (10-3-22)
I forever seem to be in constant motion, like a spinning top. I’m always doing something. Even when I’m home, I never just sit and look out the window. I’m on my computer; I’m preparing food; I’m cleaning, putting in a load of wash, going through a script for a play I want to audition for, reading material or writing material for an upcoming class, talking on the phone…
Even my vacations are the active type. Lying on the beach under a palm tree reading a book in some tropical location doesn’t cut it. I want to check out the wildlife, forests, museums, or native peoples and their culture. If sports are involved, I want to go skiing, on a zip line, horseback riding (or, in my case, horseback walking—but hey, I’m up; I’m moving forward; and I’m not bleeding). I loved it when I was on a small boat in Mexico touching whales. Any place with some excitement or stimulation attached to it is for me!
I’m a Type A personality, and pure, uninterrupted relaxation is a foreign concept. My fellow Type A-ers know what I’m talking about.
I’m trying to do better, because I know it’s beneficial for me to slow down. My slowing down in recent years has come in the form of staying home more often–cutting down on the running around. However, even being at home seems like a marathon as I mentioned above. I barely know what my backyard looks like. Occasionally, during my at home time, I’ll glance out of the window.
Gee, it’s beautiful out there. Okay, enough of that; now, I have a blog to write.
People like me and maybe like you or someone you know have to schedule downtime, because we forget to do it. Left to our own devices, we’re a gerbil running on an exercise wheel in its cage. I’ve written on this subject before. (Click here to read my blog of 4-29-2016: “Slowing Down, and here to read my blog of 8-29-2017, “Rest and Regenerate.”)
Don’t forget to relax, folks—really rest. And, when you do, remind me to do the same.
The Hunt vs. The Capture (9-19-22)
There are some people who will pursue another with vigorous means to entice their object of attention. This might include things such as seductive behavior, expensive gifts, abundant attention, and the like. However, once their prey becomes interested (on a scale from a small amount to full-out falling in love with them), the predator’s interest wanes. The latter may then start retreating by acting poorly toward the former: ignoring them, berating them, severing ties with them.
However, the scenario doesn’t end there. When the prey starts to distance his/herself, the predator is suddenly interested and switches to wooing mode once again. It’s a crazy making game that can go on for years. Obviously, the only way for the prey to avoid such a seesaw is to always act hard to get in order to continuously stimulate the predator’s interest and keep them in constant pursuit. What an exhausting way to live!
I once had such a relationship–short term fortunately. I was baffled and couldn’t get a grasp on what was going on. After a few months of this back and forth, I walked away to healthier grounds. When I discussed the matter with a friend, he said that some people get off on the hunt but become bored once they have captured their prey.
Why do predators behave this way? I’ll venture a guess: it has to do with basic insecurity on their part. Oh, they might not act insecure as they’ve spent decades covering up those feelings and presenting a façade of confidence and power to the world and to themselves. Nevertheless, those lack-of-worth seeds still survive within them and distort their behavior.
Once they’ve bagged their prey, the predator’s subconscious feelings of insecurity kick in to the tune of: I’m nothing, so if you care about me, you must be nothing, too. Therefore, I’m no longer interested in you because you are a low-value person. I’ve written on this topic before in this forum. (Click here to read my blog of 1-21-18, “Why Does He/She Treat Me So Badly?”)
Have you experienced such a relationship or relationships in your life as either the predator or the prey? It’s a sad situation to find yourself in and usually leads to one failed relationship after another.
If you are the predator, the first step in changing yourself, if you are so inclined, is to realize what you are doing and why. Then, when you enter the rejecting phase in a relationship, you can view it through your new lens of understanding. This may help you in choosing some behavior modification techniques to preserve your relationship. However, since you’ve spent years honing your hunt versus capture technique, it may require professional help for you to give it up.
If you are or have been prey to such behavior, acknowledge the dynamics in the relationship. Refuse to play the rejected role. Don’t expect your predator to change; it’s you who must change. If you have a history of such relationships, think about what attracts you to such a predator. If it is chronic, you, too, may require professional help to change.
To Predators: Others are not on this planet to help you play out your insecurities. Knock it off!
To Prey: Don’t waste your time and energy being played like a yo-yo. Realize your value and don’t let anyone take it from you.
Life Is a Math Problem (9-4-22)
Recently, I came upon an intriguing mathematics problem, author unknown, making its way around the internet: If you're going down a river at 2 MPH and your canoe loses a wheel, how much pancake mix would you need to re-shingle your roof? I hope none of my readers is actually trying to answer this question; it's just nonsensical fun.
In this world of fake news, endemic confusion, and inability or unwillingness to figure out and accept reality, we are suspicious of everything. We can't even take a joke. The aforementioned math puzzler is a spoof on our times.
Must we doubt everything? Must we question everything? How tiresome it's all becoming. Even truths we once considered carved in granite are now open for reinterpretation. It feels as if our bedrock is crumbling.
How do we survive such a shaky foundation? I've encountered many depressed people lately. They're overwhelmed by the current state of affairs: politics, the pandemic, wars, inflation, the effects of climate change, their personal lives, and on and on. They don't know how to cope.
I think the Alcoholics Anonymous creed of One day at a time is about as good as any to navigate our turbulent times. It teaches survival in small, manageable steps. If you adapt the goal of making it just from when you wake up in the morning to when you fall asleep at night, that might help steady you. It's not a solution to our great global problems, but it could be a balm to your distress caused by them.
Another worthwhile technique is the ancient adage: This, too, shall pass. Look back on your life. Lots of unbearable things finally ended or at least diminished in intensity. Nothing lasts forever.
These approaches don't work every time; they might work only sometimes. On the other hand, what's wrong with sometimes? It's certainly better than the alternative which is constant upset, anxiety, and angst.
Try it. See if you can compartmentalize. Give yourself a mental vacation from the considerations that are pulling you down. Allow yourself to postpone some of that pressing weight until tomorrow, or the next day, or next week, or...
Joy Spots (8-21-22)
Joy spots are just what they sound like: spots that bring you joy. Are there any joy spots in your life where you experience a bit of happiness when you encounter them such as a particular vista when you turn the corner or a tree that takes your breath away?
In my case, one of my special places features some exotic animals up a hill from a freeway that I travel often. There’s a zebra, a one-humped camel, four llamas, and most recently two magnificent cows and a bull showing off his impressive horns. I don’t know who they belong to or how they got there. I just know that I search for them each time I come upon the right location. When I’m lucky enough to spot them, it perks me up for that moment, for the next many moments, and sometimes even for the whole day. I've written about these animals recently in this forum. (Click here and scroll down to read my blog of 4-3-22 "Bucolicity.")
Many years ago, while living at my prior residence, I used to pass a mature, weeping willow tree. Its setting was perfect: on the front lawn of a beautiful, Spanish style house. I always considered it my treat for the day. I enjoyed it so much that I often took the longer route to get where I was going just so I could revel in that flora. These days, there are some majestic, full-size redwood trees near where I live. They never cease to amaze me whenever I pass them.
Is there a place or several places which you journey by regularly that give you a bump? Maybe it’s a playground with children frolicking as they scream out their exuberance; perhaps it’s the park bench throne where an elderly person holds court to a kingdom of pigeons as he/she tosses them bread crumbs; possibly it’s a pond where folks in small boats skim the surface; it might be a stretch of road frequented by joggers or bicyclists in their colorful gear; or it could be the local house of faith with its catchy, inspirational message of the week mounted on changeable signage on the front lawn.
It's a privilege to have joy spots as part of your life. Don't take them for granted. Pay them the respect they deserve when you happen by. Let your eyes feast on what they offer. Let them calm your anxiety and uptightness.
We all need a joy spot or two or ten in our lives. Find some pearls on the routes you navigate on a regular basis, anticipate them, and give yourself a free, anti-anxiety pill without the possible drug side effects.
Covid Is Tamed, Not Conquered (8-7-22)
So many people I know are contracting Covid. There are those who have mild cases, while others get pretty sick. A given individual falls ill, yet his/her spouse, children, or various residents in the same household are spared. Science has no idea why. It’s a crapshoot! Who will win and who will lose? Maybe it’s nature’s way of thinning the herd. Are there just too many of us for our planetary resources?
At least we’re no longer hearing about hospitals overflowing, not enough ventilators or protective gear, and bodies stacking up in morgues. Fortunately for mankind, methods such as vaccines, mask wearing, and social distancing are working. Nevertheless, Covid remains a part of our new reality currently and probably well into our futures.
So how do we survive and thrive while sharing our world with Covid? That’s a hard one. Each person has their own
methods and their own philosophy. Some crouch in fear inside their abodes, refusing to venture outside. Others take
unreasonable chances under the premise that they have only one life to live, and they choose to roll the figurative dice.
My take falls somewhere in between those extremes. I am no longer isolating inside my home. I go out and about but with caution. Whenever I enter a structure such as a market or bank, I always wear a mask. When I want to go to a restaurant, I seek those with outdoor patios. I avoid large public, indoor spaces such as movie theaters. I get together with friends and family in small groups. I decline most invitations to large social gatherings which are held indoors.
As much as I love to travel, I refuse to go to airports, train stations, or on cruise ships. Any travel I do is by car. Whenever I allow an unknown worker or service person into my home, I always wear a mask and insist they do likewise.
This is the lifestyle I have settled upon for myself on this day and at this stage of Covid. I am flexible; my behavior will change as our Covid control measures improve or as a new Covid variant takes hold.
Decide on your own comfort level with this endemic virus. It is part of our existence now, and we must learn to live with it.
French Toast (7-25-22)
I love French toast–that is, after I avoid making it by employing every excuse or diversion I can muster. I’m not sure why I do that, but the answer might lie in the effort to bring it to fruition; the tiresome cleanup; the bread with its excess of carbs that proceeds directly from my mouth to my hips without passing Go; and even more calories from the toppings: butter, syrup, and powdered sugar. (Tip: You can switch out the toppings with equally fattening fare.)
Once I have the French toast sitting on a plate in front of me, I slather, pour, and dig in.
Yum, why don’t I eat this more often?
The sentiment doesn’t last long. The next time I contemplate making French toast, the same evasion sets in. I visualize that societal finger wagging.
Many things in life are like French toast. Taking a shower is another for me. It seems like such a waste of time when I could be doing something else much more satisfying or productive. I think up all kinds of reasons to delay it: I need to make a phone call first; I want to research a matter on the internet first; I have to exercise first; I have to eat breakfast first; I have to…I have to… Of course, I could skip a shower altogether, but I run the risk of folks steering clear of me despite my charming personality.
After I finish my personal hygiene routine and cleaning up after myself, a precious hour of my life has elapsed. I could have been writing my next blog, for goodness sake. The strange thing is that once I’m in the shower with the warm water falling on me, I love it. Then, I delay getting out.
Just one more minute…this is my reward for doing my diligence…it’s good for my soul!
Another French toast moment that comes to mind is the onerous preparation of my income taxes. Oh yes, I can procrastinate on that until the last possible minute. Once I get into it and organize everything, however, there’s an immense gratification. I enjoy making my life orderly.
How many F. T. items do you have in your life? It’s always a contest between our requirements and our joys. There are all kinds of proverbs dealing with this issue such as: “Never put off to tomorrow what you can do today,” or “Cleanliness is next to Godliness” (for those of you with my shower affliction).
Life is full of F.T. examples. Nevertheless, we must perform them to make our lives run smoothly. Just slog through what you consider chores, so you can be done with them and get to the good stuff. You just might be surprised that the dreaded and delayed duties often yield a positive payoff.
Deliberate Confusion (7-11-22)
“Oh, I’m so confused.”
That refrain may be legitimate sometimes and manipulative at others. It’s the latter that I’ll address today.
Deliberate confusion is an effective tool used by some to delay, divert, and obfuscate. It’s a method to be able to claim that the reason you screwed up or failed to do what you should have done is because you were confused by the instructions. That effectively throws the blame onto the instruction giver.
“It’s your fault because you didn’t explain it clearly.”
One wonders then why the scenario is almost always in favor of the confused. The laws of chance dictate that it should
be pretty evenly split. Could the answer lie in the giveaway adjective, “deliberate”?
Such behavior is used regularly in everyday life. It’s also found in such high stakes professions as politician, attorney, and corporate leader. I have sometimes pondered if these types take a class in Confusion-1A in order to qualify for their jobs.
I recently heard about one particularly adroit practitioner of the legal arts who frequently "didn't understand." One wonders how he ever made it through law school. He got his comeuppance in an out-of-court conversation when his opponent also wondered if the judge in the case might understand better. Suddenly, our worthy lawyer experienced an "ah-ha" moment where he comprehended clearly.
Do you practice the artifice of deliberate confusion? Do you have an acquaintance, friend, or significant other who pulls it on you? Are you tired of it and want to escape from that particular hall of mirrors? Try the aforementioned technique. Propose to your opponent that you run the matter by (insert name of someone your opponent wouldn’t want involved). That may assist in clarifying the matter for him/her.
If you are among the deliberately confused, let me assure you that your ploy will soon become transparent if it is part of your modus operandi. It gets old real fast and is a turnoff to your victims. Be prepared to lose lots of relationships, and don’t be confused as to why folks are always bailing on you.
Amens and Attaboys (6-28-22)
We all need to be acknowledged when we’ve done a good job. It makes us feel validated and proud of ourselves. There's nothing wrong with that.
I have a reader who periodically responds to my blog posts with "amen." It’s her one-word kudos to me that I’ve hit a button for her. It represents a confirmation of the hard work and effort I put into creating and bringing that labor to fruition.
Too many hold back from offering positive feedback to others for a job well-done. I’m not sure why that is. I suspect it has something to do with feeling diminished as you think that your own status is lessened when you raise someone else's.
People seem much more able to offer criticism, but affirmations stick in their throat.
As I mentioned in my previous blog, I had been in rehearsals for a stage play. One of the other actors was working hard on his lines and came to each rehearsal well-prepared. However, he was having a lot of trouble managing a particular prop. I went up to him while we were backstage waiting to start and whispered in his ear, "you are doing a really good job." He just beamed. Then he started to explain how hard it was to manipulate the prop. He seemed desperate for someone to listen, understand, and weigh in. I told him not to worry about it, and that even if he messed it up, we'd just skip over the flub during the performance. He seemed so relieved by my brief attaboy. He's been very warm and friendly to me ever since.
Sprinkle those amens and attaboys liberally. Don’t withhold compliments when they are deserved. Be big enough to tell someone else that they did a good job. It doesn't mean that you are lesser than they are. It actually means that you are bigger than most people--big enough to acknowledge another human being. A few sincere words, a quick hug, or even just a simple pat on the back is all it takes, which costs you nothing. And, you just might make a new friend.
Grabbing Life (6-13-22)
We must all grab life with whatever means we have. Some of us have more capabilities than others. If you are not disabled, be mindful of how fortunate you are. Not everyone has your good luck.
If you are disabled, technology has provided you with assistive devices to make it easier for you to grab life. Use a wheelchair, walker, cane, or whatever to help you find a life worth grabbing.
Currently, I’m in rehearsal for a stage play produced by the drama club at my retirement community. When I auditioned for the part that I eventually booked, there were many people also there to audition. One was a woman sitting in a wheelchair. She maneuvered herself around the stage with no problem and no self-consciousness. What an inspiration!
Another member of our drama club is a very talented director, and I was privileged to be in a play a few years ago which he directed. He gets around on a motorized scooter. His talents as a director are not diminished by his assistive transportation mode. Throughout rehearsals, he just went about his business without giving any thought to the matter of his inability to walk. The actors in his play did the same. What an amazing person!
I’m really working hard now at my play rehearsals as are all the other actors and the director. None of us is being paid. I was wondering recently why I’m putting in that much time, effort, and energy into an endeavor that yields me no financial payback. The answer is obvious: my reward is “the sheer joy of it” and being around like-minded folks. Not everything that results in joy, excitement, and satisfaction stems from a financial transaction.
We all have a finite time of life. We also all have choices. Choose how you are going to live your remaining years, months, days, hours, minutes. If you decide to squander them on “poor me” behaviors, own the fact that you made that choice. It doesn’t have to continue that way, and you can reverse your choice at any time which, of course, is another choice.
Find your “sheer-joy-of-it” activity. Utilize whatever is available to assist you; there is no shame in that. Wheels versus legs still yields the same stage performance.
Pity Parties (5-30-22)
I have a friend who was involved in a serious bicycle accident a few years ago that left his face badly scarred. He began isolating, not wanting to go out in public because he felt so ashamed. He was convinced his appearance was off-putting to everyone.
Has something like that happened to you or someone you know? Certainly, if we feel unattractive according to current standards of acceptable appearance, it’s hard not to become disgusted by ourselves. We’ve all heard the old adage: “Beauty is only skin deep.” However, when it is you who is the not-so-beautiful one, it takes a strong person to go forth in spite of being physically unappealing, whether from birth or a future occurrence.
I once knew a man years ago who was born with a condition called giantism. He was large with very big hands and feet, and his facial features were all extremely exaggerated. Nevertheless, he projected such confidence and charisma that what was a shock upon first meeting him was soon forgotten. This man had a beautiful wife, two normal looking children, and was also an extremely successful businessman.
We all eventually learn to compensate for our shortcomings starting from early childhood. When a person is strong in some areas but weak in others, they naturally develop their strengths. That is how we decide what to study in higher education and what jobs to seek. Emphasize what you do well, and hone it to becoming adept and standing out in that pursuit.
If your imperfection happens later in life such as a sudden physical disfigurement, build up another area of your talents and lead with that in your interactions. For example, if you’ve always depended on your good looks and then lose them for whatever reason, develop that writing or musical skill that has been lurking in the background for decades.
Real friends don’t care about your impairments. We all have something wrong with our bodies both in our youth and as we age. Often, it is internal or mental, and it doesn’t show. That doesn’t mean it’s any less serious. Everyone needs loving support. Others understand and will react to you that way.
Try not to waste the precious time you have left wallowing in self-pity. I know it’s hard not to; we all end up there for a while and have to grieve our lacks or losses. But, then we must get back up on our bikes and cycle on.
Road Trippin' (5-16-22)
I wanted to attend an event hundreds of miles from my home. When I told my son that I planned to fly there, he freaked out.
“Mom, the planes have circulating air, so they’re not too bad. But, the airport can be a Covid superspreader!”
Somehow, he seemed okay with my driving, so that’s what I decided to do so as not to add further stress to his life. I was a little intimidated about making the trip by myself until I changed my mindset. Instead of thinking about it as a long excursion of hundreds of miles, I approached it as a bunch of short commutes. I would stop frequently to rest, walk around, and eat. Along the way, I would visit lots of family members and friends, staying a few days with each to break up my journey. With my new way of approaching the whole endeaver, it turned out to be a cinch.
It was a pleasant drive on a long straight highway. I enjoyed California’s agricultural heartland as I cruised along. The highway seemed to contain more giant trucks than cars. Those big rigs just kept coming, many of their cabs painted in spiffy colors presumably reflecting their drivers’ vibes. Do those bright tones perk up the long-haulers and help them stay alert as they wrangle their transports for thousands of miles? I enjoyed sharing my road with them as they carried fruits and vegetables from the surrounding land or cargo containers recently off-loaded from the ships moored in the ports of San Francisco and Oakland, all to quench our citizens’ appetites of various types. (I’ve written on this topic before in this forum after a similar trip six years ago. Click here and scroll down to read my blog of August 9, 2016, “Driving to My New Life.”)
I whizzed by growing produce. The farmers in the area had erected signs to inform passing motorists of their views about the government’s control over the water they need for their livelihood. A great engineering feat is responsible for that.
I paralleled and crisscrossed the remarkable California Aqueduct through various phases of my journey. It has brought the life-saving liquid to this parched land, allowing it to grow thirsty trees and crops. It’s impressive, and it’s also very political as to how that water is allocated.
The whole show was presided over by enormous electrical towers spaced regularly and stretching for miles. Just as the aqueduct carries the precious water throughout my state, those towers carry the precious electricity that we humans have come to depend on.
I sailed past patches of wild mustard, their perky yellow screaming for attention wherever they grew. As I continued, I also saw mining operations. I observed cattle grazing on hillsides and crowded together in fattening yards. I came upon construction equipment building infrastructure and new houses in recently leveled land developments. All are enterprises to keep our life as we know it going.
When I arrived at Pyramid Lake, I pulled over to rest and eat a sack lunch. People in other cars were doing the same.
After two wonderful weeks, my journey was almost over. I was sad to see it end but anxious to go home. One of the highlights of travel is the anticipation of both the departure and the return.
I’m proud of myself for my accomplishment. I did it and feel more emboldened. It’s a great sensation to conquer something that seems hard.
If an undertaking appears daunting to you, spin it into something doable. Breaking it into baby steps from a huge whole can help. It’s only a matter of interpretation.
Jealousy (5-3-22)
Are you jealous of others or of a particular other? That other could be someone with whom you have a long history such as a relative, friend, or neighbor. Or, it could be someone you’ve known for a short time or as an acquaintance such as a classmate, co-worker, or casual contact.
Do you pretend to yourself and the world that it doesn’t bother you although the truth is that it gnaws at you? When these types of involuntary feelings interfere with your life, well-being, and all around comfort, it’s time to admit it, examine it, and work on it.
Most of us experience some jealousy to one degree or another. It occurs in all ages, sexes, and strata of society. You may not even consciously realize that such envy is consuming you. As adults, we get pretty good at masking our feelings, even to ourselves. We offer excuses, explanations, and interpretations for our thoughts and actions. However, those may boil down to just plain old jealousy.
Here are a few questions to ponder: Although you may have been very accomplished at your career, did you always experience those envious sensations whenever you were around (fill in the blank) who had a more prestigious job? Did you make a lot of money at your chosen profession, but it just never seemed to hold its weight against (fill in the blank) who earned more, lived in a larger house, had more laudable children, spouse, pets…? Did you stop associating with (fill in the blank) as it was just too unsettling to be around him/her? Probably, they had no idea why you distanced yourself from them, and likely neither did you. These scenarios can be extrapolated to all sorts of circumstances. Think of one in your life.
Humans are always comparing themselves with others and trying to compete. We’re careful not to make it seem like a contest as that would appear too pretentious. Nevertheless, we do it anyway and just cover it over with socially acceptable behavior, speech, or any other tools we can use to flaunt our stuff without making it seem like we’re flaunting our stuff.
Hasn’t that gotten old? Isn’t it just too tiring and energy draining to play that game anymore? What a shame that so many seem driven to continue with such behavior which serves no purpose and doesn’t enhance them. We’re not truly mature until we can be okay with what we have accomplished and happy that another has achieved what they have. It’s time to grow up, people.
The Color Purple (4-19-22)
There is something about the color purple in all its hues that is intriguing. It’s rich and rare. The kings of old claimed it as their own, dubbing it “royal purple.”
Purple dye was first used in clothing in the 1200s BCE by the Phoenicians. It was obtained from sea snails found in the Mediterranean Sea. It was difficult to produce which made it expensive, so only the very wealthy could afford it.
Purple’s exclusivity carried down through the centuries and into the Elizabethan era (1558 to 1603). Colors, fabrics and clothing were strictly regulated as to which classes in English society could wear what. Only relatives of the royal family were allowed to wear purple. If it was part of your wardrobe, onlookers knew that not only were you of great means, but also that you were royalty.
Magnificent wisteria vines with their hanging, lavender flower clusters bestow that color upon us briefly in springtime. They surprise us in the most unlikely places such as alleyways, commercial businesses, parks, and residences. Other flowers also weigh in with breathtaking displays of purple.
We tend to use purple sparingly in our clothing, building colors, and everywhere else humans can choose the tints of commodities. It is almost too intense to use on an entire object or item to wear on our bodies.
Nevertheless, some have the audacity and confidence to flash purple in the most unexpected places. I came upon this purple car, a mustang convertible, that stood out in the parking lot of drab, mostly neutral colored automobiles. I can only imagine what the owner looked like. Did he/she/they wear exclusively purple attire and perhaps dye his/her/their hair to match? Or was the driver a milk-toast who blossomed briefly while in such a transport?
Purple of another shade is the color of the nectar of Dionysus (aka: Bacchus in Roman times), the son of Zeus (the big honcho). “Dion” held the enviable position of the Greek god of wine and the vine. He was believed to be responsible for the elixir which today we sip from special glasses with much decorum and ceremony. Wine has also been used historically by many religions and incorporated into their sacred rituals. On that point, I have to hand it to those early influencers of mankind’s spiritual beliefs; they sure knew how to party.
I’ve written in this forum before on the importance of color to the human experience. (Read my blog of 7-26-15: “Dare to Be Colorful.”) Incorporate purple into your life. It brings boldness and excitement to its devotees.
Bucolicity (4-3-22)
My title today is taken from the adjective: bucolic, meaning pastoral (relating to herdsmen) or more generically: idyllic. Yes, my word doesn’t technically exist. However, I periodically make up my own words when the English language fails me.
I frequently walk around my retirement community where I often encounter the resident animals. It’s particularly neat when different species hang out together, each doing their thing and not bothering their neighbor. I like to imagine it as my own little Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve couldn’t have had it better.
I also get a regular hit of bucolicity from a spit of undeveloped hillside off a freeway that I travel frequently. Someone, I don’t know who, has placed an array of herbivores on that land to graze on the wild grasses that grow there. Some are common: horses and cows, and some are exotic: several llamas; one camel, of the dromedary persuasion; and two zebras, a baby and an adult, obviously not kin as their stripes are completely different renderings. Although of various tribes, all of these creatures seem to get along as they chomp away in close proximity to each other. It’s certainly a lesson for humans.
Whenever I am driving near that area, I pull my car into the far right-hand lane and slow down as much as I can get away with, ignoring the honking horns behind me. Then, at just the exact right opening in the foliage, I look uphill to spy what awaits at that moment. I have to be quick, because in two seconds–three max, I’ve sailed past that magical place.
I shared my secret with a friend who also transits that route. She got as excited as I did. We decided to go exploring to see if we could get closer to the animals and just hang out as observers. A short time after we started on our quest, we sighted our beasts and exited the closest off-ramp to “the spot.” We wove through residential neighborhoods and up a canyon road to the top. Try as we might, we were never able to find them, elusive beings that they are. It didn’t matter really, because we had so much fun bonding over our shared experience.
Be kind to others from different herds; we all graze the same. Put your energy into finding simple joys as you go out and about. Survey your surroundings, not just the road ahead of you as you drive or your feet as you walk. Share your discoveries with friends. Grab a little bucolicity.
Pet Etiquette (3-20-22)
I’ve written often in this forum about animals. To read those blog posts, go to the following entries:
8-6-20: “Minis and Me”
10-1-19: “Touching a Giraffe”
5-27-19: “Watson”
1-7-19: “Armful of Dogs”
12-23-18: “Snowball”
10-13-18: “What’s in the Stroller”
11-3-15: “People Whisperer”
5-28-15: “Unstressing at the Airport, One Dog at a Time”
4-29-14: “Learning from Animals”
1-18-14: “The Therapy of Pets”
However, this is a different take.
We all love our pets whether they be dogs, cats, birds, horses, fish, or in my granddaughter’s case, a gecko named “Soy Sauce.” She and her father, my adorable son, make the periodic trek to the pet store to purchase live crickets for her cherished reptile. When I visit, she drags me into her room so I can watch “SS” stalk and capture its insect dinner.
Being subjected to an animal hunting its prey may not be to everyone’s liking. Why do pet owners expect others to be as fascinated with their darling critter as they are? Surely there should be some form of etiquette or sensitivity when sharing Fluffy, Fido, or SS with others. Here are some situations that I’ve encountered ranging from annoying to distressing:
Example 1: I was walking and came upon an acquaintance with her dog. The pooch was off leash and running unobstructed, often 25 to 30 feet from its human. I commented that the situation could pose problems, and that some people were afraid of dogs. What I got in return was a lengthy discourse on the wonderfulness of this particular hound including details of its delightful antics. In fact, the rest of the conversation was only about her treasure. She apparently had nothing else to talk about.
Example 2: I have a friend who has two cats. More than once when I’ve been talking to her on the phone, she has suddenly started screaming at one of the felines: “leave her alone.” In between her scolding, she’ll explain to me, as an aside, that one cat frequently attacks the other. Without taking a breath, she then returns to her verbal discipline of the offender. That leaves me sitting through her diatribe, a place where I definitely don’t want to be.
Example 3: Then there was a time when a woman who was the host of a zoom meeting cut all of the participants off. When everyone was able to re-gather online, she apologized explaining that her cat had walked across her computer keyboard. The host herself purred when other members joked that the cat was in charge in her household. She loved that, thinking it was a compliment. Honey, it was just the opposite. You wasted the time we had all allotted for the meeting simply because you thought giving your pet the run of your office was just so sweet.
Example 4: I can’t fail to add the time I was accosted two weeks in a row by a pair of vicious, unleashed Chihuahuas. They ran full speed toward me, stopping only a few feet before they reached me. Then, they held me at bay, barking and snarling so intensely that their bodies shook from the effort. I was terrified, fearing they would attack and do some significant injury to my lower extremities. Their owner loved to let his pets run free, and I suspect he got off when they frightened their victims. They were his avatars, paying back all the injustices he felt the world had done to him. FYI: I am allergic to all antibiotics but one, and I certainly didn’t want to test the efficacy of my ace-in-the-hole on dog bites.
I’m sure most people have encountered similar situations. I love animals, but my patience is limited to the amount of time I’m willing to devote to the topic of someone’s pet or being subjected to its bad behavior. It’s right up there with my feelings about being regaled by your travel pictures. I might be willing to glance at a shot or three of a monkey or even a flower. Amazing as it may seem, however, I’m not interested in a camera rendering complete with your accompanying comments about that darling couple from Cincinnati you met on your group safari in Africa, and that they have three kids, and he’s a doctor, and she’s a therapist, and…, and…, and…
Have a little common sense, folks, and practice the golden rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Remember, I, too, can bore you with my pet stories or zap you with my travel photos.
Ace That Landing (3-6-22)
Landing means we start off in one location and then arrive somewhere else. It is often used when our feet leave earth and reconnect at a later time: air flights, ship cruises, jumping off a cliff (preferably with a parachute), and even many athletic events.
Terra firma is where we are anchored and where we feel the safest and steadiest. Gravitational pull is behind it all. When we move further from that force of nature, we become unbalanced and off-kilter. The act of falling creates such a sensation.
Landing can also be used in another sense to indicate mental, emotional, or behavioral progression from one lifestyle to another. That is the aim of everyone who strives for improvement or is dissatisfied with their current state of affairs. We have expressions to describe various types of landings: he landed on his feet; have a safe landing.
Do you strive to land on a lofty mark? Knowing where you want to alight, be it physically or metaphorically, will help ensure that the outcome is on target and to your satisfaction. Therefore, folks must plan in advance where they hope to end up. This is called: a goal.
Prior to takeoff, careful consideration of all factors that may thwart reaching the coveted endgame will help insure its success. Caveat: Life never has any guarantees; we can only do our best.
Some people just dive in without much prior deliberation about potential roadblocks to their plans. They are called impulsive. That’s not necessarily wrong; there is no right or wrong here. However, those who act with aforethought usually have a higher rate of success.
Why would you expend time, energy, effort, and money toward a project important to you on a whim? For example, why write a book only to find out after it’s published that everyone and his third cousin twice removed has written on the same subject, thereby diluting the impact of your masterpiece? If that works for you, of course, go for it. Maybe your goal is something other than fame and fortune, and it doesn’t matter if others have already invented that particular wheel.
On the other hand, if you really want your efforts to pay dividends, put a governor on your impulsive behavior. Allot some time to do your research, network with others, read books and articles on the subject, and seek mentors. Efforts such as these will assist you in considering obstacles that you might encounter along the way and making wise decisions to help ensure a successful conclusion.
CHITCHAT: Recently, I was profiled on the podcast, “Happiness between Tails,” about my self-help book, Reinventing Yourself in Your Retirement Years: Find Joy Excitement, and Purpose After You Retire. You can access it by clicking on https://anchor.fm/depe9
When Caretakers Fall Short (2-21-22)
When a family member, friend, or even an acquaintance has become infirm either gradually or suddenly, it is frustrating not to be able to contact them. We want to communicate with him or her; we want them to know we care; we want to offer our assistance; we want a status update.
If a caretaker is involved whether it be a spouse, other relative, or hired worker, they may become the gatekeeper with power to grant or deny us access to their charge. We become annoyed when that caretaker doesn’t answer our phone calls (the line is always busy or the answering machine is disabled), doesn’t respond to our emails or voicemails, or fails to open the door if we make a personal visit and ring the bell repeatedly followed by pounding on the unyielding entrance.
We must remember to be gentle with the caretaker, too. That person probably has their own personal issues (we all have them) whether they be health, financial, interpersonal, or whatever. If the caretaker has a close relationship with the patient, they are probably overwhelmed with the trauma of their loved one’s serious disability, becoming a full-time caretaker, and having to assume all the responsibilities for them both.
If friends and interested parties are barraging the caretaker trying to reach the sick one or find out about their status, the caretaker may be setting boundaries to protect their own fragile state. (I’ve written on this subject previously in this forum. Read my blog of 10-12-17: “Taking Care of the Caretaker.”)
I have a good friend who was active and vibrant up to the day she recently had a stroke and became unable to talk or walk. One of her children instantly became her full-time caretaker. Friends trying to contact her have become annoyed and even angry at the daughter for her limited response.
Be understanding. Keeping outsiders up-to-date is very low on the list of priorities when looking after a seriously ill person. If you are concerned about whether the patient is not being cared for properly or is even in danger, a call to your local, social welfare agency might be in order. If you believe the caretaker is truly acting in the patient’s best interests, you may have to put your own needs on hold. If you want to help in some way, consider leaving a care package (food, clothing, flowers, etc.) at the front door or sending something similar through the mail.
Try to be sensitive to a very difficult situation. Remember, it’s not all about you and your needs.
The Ultimate Recycling (2-6-22)
Where do we go when we die? Philosophers, theologians, and just ordinary folks have been pondering that question for centuries. Religions create elaborate stories about what becomes of us after we are deceased. Rewards and punishments may be attached to those beliefs, and they are usually dependent on what type of life one has led when they were still living.
Science also weighs in on the matter. The Laws of Physics, especially “The Law of Conservation of Mass,” says that matter cannot be created or destroyed; it just changes form. Think about water (H2O in chemical terms). It alters its configuration according to the temperature where it is located. If the weather is very cold, it may freeze into ice. If the climate is mild or moderate, it will be a liquid. If it becomes very hot, it morphs into a gas.
We are like water. Eventually, after we die, we will change form at the atomic level. Maybe one day we’ll combine with other atoms and become part of a tree or anything else you might think of. Being a component of a tree actually doesn’t sound so bad. As a tree, we will get to enjoy the sweet things of life: wind whipping through our hair–ah, branches; our beautiful attire (aka foliage); birds alighting on our boughs and setting up household; people admiring us and sheltering in our shade; or kids hanging a swing from our limbs and cavorting under us–maybe even our own progeny.
Prior to your body disintegrating and joining the great universe, there is another use you can choose for it. It is accessed through the “Willed Body Program.” My parents donated their bodies to a medical school to help advance scientific research for the betterment of those still alive or not yet born. I have chosen to do the same.
If that is something that appeals to you, just contact a local university that has a medical school, and inquire about their Willed Body Program. They probably have details on their website, or they will mail you literature about it along with a form to fill out and return. Once they receive your signed authorization, you will be sent a card with their contact information to keep in your wallet stating that you are enrolled in their program and instructing whomever has custody of your corpus when you pass away to get in touch with them. Once they are notified, they will dispatch someone to pick up your remains.
We must be grateful to those who came before us and made the decision to recycle themselves for the good of mankind; we are among their beneficiaries. Such an act is true altruism, and it can have a secondary effect of making the donor feel good about themselves while they’re still living.
Life is a cycle; we move through it in various forms. Maybe such a realization can make our looming human death a little less frightening.
Schlepping (1-24-22)
Most of us schlep (Yiddish for drag or carry) lots of stuff to sustain us when we go out and about. The majority of animals simply forage for what they need. However, we humans, the highest form of animal life, must have our necessities immediately at hand. To that end, we have devised portable personal containers: purses, pockets, backpacks, briefcases, and the like as well as devices that strap to bodily appendages or hang from other appropriate parts.
I saw a construction truck hauling a porta-potty lest the driver find himself on a job with nowhere to do his thing. It reminds me of when one of my grandchildren was a toddler and used to tow her potty chair from room to room. She would proceed to sit astride it in front of her audience so they could observe her wondrous deed and heap praise upon her.
Some years ago, a friend remarked that as she has aged, her makeup bag has gotten heavier and heavier. Each has their own priority of schlepables. If you ever visit an airport, you will see travelers carrying, pushing, or pulling numerous suitcases, all containing the urgent gear they can’t live without.
How the heartbeat quickens when you realize you’ve left your cell phone home, or worse, lost it. OTOH what a lovely vacation from the bondage imposed upon us by that infernal device.
How can we ease our lives and break the umbilical cord which binds us to our belongings? How do we divest rather than invest? In the olden days (ah, the glorious–or not-so-glorious–olden days), there just wasn’t as much stuff around, so folks did with less. Today, our stress level is accelerated just wrangling our material possessions.
What about the thought of actually taking a vacation not only from your job and home, but also from your paraphernalia? Are you man/woman enough to do it?
Plan a trip somewhere be it a few miles away or another country. Leave your technology behind: computer, cell phone, camera, and all the chargers, adaptors, and cords that must accompany them. Live for a while without being connected to everyone and everything. Take photos only in your mind. Pack the bare minimum. You don’t need numerous outfits for every occasion with the jewelry and shoes to go with them. Although hard to fathom, the world will carry on just fine without your input, and you can jump right back into the craziness upon your return.
Work toward simplification; stop buying new things; make do with what you have. Get rid of items which you rarely or never use whose only function is to occupy space. Ramp down that stress level. Take back your life!
Beware of Leg Lifts (1-10-22)
As I’ve written in this forum before, I hate it when my body doesn’t cooperate with my lifestyle. For the past five months, my lower back has been giving me grief. The worst part is that it’s my own fault. I keep forgetting I’m a senior. Pre-pandemic, I used to frequent the gym several times a week. However, I hadn’t done so for the previous 1.5+ years since the beginning of the Covid lockdown.
My motivation to exercise alone at home is limited; my workout mode functions best when surrounded by fellow sufferers. So, my former physical agility is a tad less agile.
After receiving science’s gift to mankind, the Covid vaccine, I allowed myself a little less caution. With trepidation, I returned to the gym albeit fully masked. While on the treadmill, someone mentioned that a Pilates class was starting soon. I had never attended Pilates before, so I figured, Why not?
I followed the others into an exercise room, grabbed a mat, and secured myself a spot on the floor. The revered instructor soon arrived, a tall, thin man with no visible body fat who appeared to be one-third my age and in great physical shape. He proceeded to maneuver his limbs into various positions. I, along with everyone else, mimicked him.
I was doing pretty well, I felt. I noticed that the woman next to me, who seemed closer to my age, was a real superstar. She had mentioned earlier that she did Pilates faithfully throughout the lockdown to keep herself from going insane. What can I say? Some practice Pilates and some write blogs.
After several exercises, Revered Instructor was soon supine (down on his mat lying on his back). Instantly, all class members assumed that position. After a variety of stretching machinations, R.I. lifted both his outstretched legs to a 45° angle and held them there. Superstar did the same followed by the others and, of course, by me. R.I. held that position while opening and closing his legs scissors-like. Superstar performed the same effortlessly. I, on the other hand, was groaning but determined. Finally, that particular torture ended, and I had survived. I was proud of myself.
Hey, I’ve still got what it takes, I thought smugly.
That night, I could barely move. My back was having none of my smugness. Its pain controlled me for the next five months, only releasing its grip gradually in minuscule increments.
Today, for the first time, I went on a hike in my favorite wilderness area near my retirement community. I have written about hiking in this area before. (Click here to read my blog of 3-31-20, “Out and About in the Time of Covid 19.”)
I have learned my lesson. As I’ve also said in this forum previously, not everything is for everyone. (Click here to read my blog of 10-18-21, “Not Everything is Everyone’s Thing.”) The "Supine Leg Raise"/hold at 45° is definitely not for me! Fortunately, my brain and fingers still work, so at least I can write, which I love. When one passion goes sideways, what is your “at least” option? We all have one. You may have to dig deep to find it, but it’s there.
Don't Let a Little Rain Stop You (12-27-21)
Here we are in the middle of winter which brings with it the coldest iterations of H2O. Brrr, we crank up the heaters and pull out turtlenecks, long underwear, gloves, fur lined boots, and extra blankets.
I’ve heard it said that when it rains in New York, people get wet, but when it rains in California people die. East Coast folks usually don’t let a little rain or even snow stop them. We Californians, on the other hand, hole up inside at such weather changes. I, having lived in the “Golden State” since toddlerhood, am among the guilty.
Covid 19 with its new Omicron variant has caused so many to isolate. Now, cold weather just ramps up that choice. Staying at home indoors becomes a habit which is hard to break. We become listless and depressed with such an agoraphobic lifestyle.
When too many days, weeks, or months are less than optimum, many of us can’t seem to adapt. It is disturbing when the status quo slips away. We like our comfort zone which is predictable and safe. The reality, however, is that nothing ever stays the same. Life is always changing.
All seasons have their delight. Winter is beautiful if you’re bundled up and comfortable. Skiers know this and frolic in the snow. Warm and toasty in their ski pants and parkas, they slalom down the mountain, skis parallel for speed or in snowplow position when brakes are needed.
The rider in this photo has turned a power mobility scooter into an all-weather vehicle. We can all do something similar to suit our own particular style.
Those who roll or ski with the punches seem to make it through life easier than those who are rigid and fight against change. Flexibility is the key. Tree branches bend in turbulent winds. Structures such as houses are destroyed.
Exchange the cloak of rigidity for a rain cloak. Then, grab an umbrella and go out and about although there’s a shower outside, even if it’s just to your car to drive to another destination. Enjoy nature regardless of its inclemency. Find the beauty in every season, and make it work for you. You will be uplifted and the better for it.
Holiday Time with Friends vs. Relatives (12-13-21)
We’ve all heard the expression which dates back to the 12th century: “Blood is thicker than water.” It means that you can always trust and expect loyalty from blood relatives, but not from outsiders. We’ve also heard the polar opposite saying first coined by Harper Lee of “To Kill a Mockingbird” fame that goes something like: “You can choose your friends but not your family.” This means that we pick those we like and feel comfortable with as friends, but we are always bound to blood family no matter how deceitful, duplicitous, or hurtful they may be to us. Occasionally, some rare few can fill both roles.
At this time of year where so many major holidays converge, it’s traditional to gather with family members around the dinner table featuring roasted turkey or goose with all the trimmings. Although the stereotypical event is portrayed in the media as a happy, joyful happening, that’s not always the case.
Maybe the holiday breaking-of-bread includes contrary Grandpa Morris, Great Aunt Lillian whose stories stretch on interminably, Uncle Joe who always tells those off-color jokes that make everyone uncomfortable, perennially pissed-off cousin Ethel, socially inappropriate nephew Sam, or the ever fighting and whinny grandkiddies. Perhaps your daughter/son-in-law manages once again to make that passive-aggressive comment that leaves you reeling. Possibly your own dear progeny devote too much time trying to pry more bucks out of you.
Holidays are artificially created, celebratory days or weeks. Dig a little deeper and you may find commercial interests lurking with their own version of prying more bucks out of you. Yes, from the point of view of those having no family members at all or any nearby with whom to spend the holidays, they may feel always on the outside looking in at a world they can't enter.
Humans experience a sense of warmth and contentment spending time with people who make them feel valued and welcome. Friends may fill that role far better than relatives. If you fall into the category of nose-pressed-against-the-glass at holiday season, don’t forget that those with family members most likely have some relatives they’d never choose as friends.
Have a happy holiday season however you spend it and with whomever you celebrate!
Dominating the Conversation (11-29-21)
Certain larger-than-life types always seem to insert themselves into the center of attention. They get away with it as others are too polite to confront them or don’t want to make a spectacle and ruin the occasion. In social situations, however, everyone should be given the opportunity to shine.
Have you ever been with a group of people where one dominates the conversation? Maybe you’re that person. FYI: That gets old very fast. There’s just a finite amount of floor time, and each one deserves an approximately equal amount of it. When the aggressive personality steals more than their share, that means that the retiring personality sacrifices a portion of theirs. Although it may appear that the latter is listening with rapt attention to the thief, don’t be fooled. They are most likely burning with indignation at having been upstaged yet again.
If you are hogging the limelight, remember that it’s not all about you. You may think your particular story is absolutely fascinating as you wax on and on and on, but the truth is that it becomes far less so the longer you jabber, spilling into someone else’s time allotment.
Certainly tell your story, but learn to edit it toward brevity. I’ll give you an example of a run-on tale to which I was subjected by someone I met many years ago during a casual encounter who didn’t know the art of shutting up as his overly detailed chatter dragged out. I don’t remember the particulars of the story, but the gist of his delivery went something like this:
So, she said, blah blah blah.
Then, I said, blah blah blah.
Then, she said, blah blah blah.
Then, I said, “Oh.”
That last line did it for me. It was totally unnecessary as was much of his content. I politely but swiftly took my leave, being careful not to return to where he was holding court.
Are listeners decamping from your too long, too self-centered stories? If you want them to come back, practice the mechanics of the latest boon to science toward the betterment of our lives: the DNA altering CRISPR gene editing technology: snip snip snip.
Completion of Life ( 11-14-21)
Last month, I attended a meeting of the “Death Café.” The idea originated in 2004 in Switzerland, with the present day model beginning seven years later. Death Cafés have been held all over the world in 66 countries. They enable people to learn about and become familiar with the completion of life. Attendees can discuss their thoughts, their experiences with a loved one, their questions, their fears, and so on. (I’ve written on the subject of death in this forum before. Click here and scroll down to read my blog of 2-4-17 titled, “Your Remains.”)
The meeting started with everyone taking turns discussing why they were there. Some told personal stories of their own illnesses. Some shared anecdotes about their spouse or someone else close to them. Others joked about the subject, maybe to relieve their own discomfort. With a topic so seemingly gloomy, it was strange to see people laugh. When it was my turn,, I said that I did not have any serious, medical conditions or life-threatening illnesses, but that I had thought about death and wanted to learn more about how to handle it and how to help my children deal with it when my time came.
One woman–let’s call her Evelyn–introduced herself and told us that she would be dying in a few weeks. She named a specific date and time. When she stated her name, I realized that I knew her as one of my blog followers. She has periodically responded to my postings with deep and insightful comments.
Evelyn went on to explain that she has incurable brain cancer, and that she has chosen to legally end her life following the protocol of the current law in California where she and I live. The California End of Life Option Act became law in 2016. It allows mentally capable, terminally ill adults who are California residents to obtain lethal drugs from a doctor to self-administer if they qualify. Currently, ten states and the District of Columbia allow it.
I learned that one who has made this decision should carry it out while they are still able to ingest the pills themselves, as no one else is allowed to assist them in doing so. If the subject deteriorates to the point of not being able to take the medication on their own, then medical aid in dying cannot proceed. Evelyn has gotten full approval from her doctor and has been given the pills which she has in a box at her home. The law requires two witnesses to be on hand when she ingests the pills. They will remain with her until she dies, and then they will follow her instructions for disposing of her remains–in this case, the donation of her body for medical research.
Evelyn seemed content and actually ebullient with her decision. She has spent a lot of time thinking about and coming to terms with it. She did not appear depressed or upset in any way. She does not have close family members, but she has informed her friends. She has dealt with bequeathing her property. She has planned her final hours with music she wants played and text she wants read. There is nothing left to handle.
Evelyn was very willing to answer any questions and share her experiences. She appeared joyful and unburdened. Accompanied by a wave of her hand, she ended her talk to the group with, “I’ll see you on the other side.” No one was breathing; everyone was stunned, frozen to their chairs.
Our group leader explained that the appropriate term for Evelyn’s upcoming act is: “medical aid in dying” rather than “assisted suicide.” It is sometimes also called physician assisted death. A quick google search revealed the following definitions:
Assisted Suicide: A person kills him/herself with someone else’s help.
Euthanasia: A person intentionally administers drugs to another person to end the life of the latter. Euthanasia can be
voluntary or involuntary.
Medical Aid in Dying: Without the assistance of others, a person takes a lethal dose of medication obtained from a doctor
for the purpose of ending their life.
As is seen in the aforementioned definitions, the difference hinges on who administers the lethal substance. Although the terms “medical aid in dying” and “assisted suicide” seem to be synonymous, the American Association of Suicidology (AAS) sees them as distinct and no longer recognizes the latter term. Euthanasia is illegal in the United States. Medical aid in dying is legal is some states but not in others.
When the meeting ended, I approached Evelyn and introduced myself.
“Oh, yes, I read your blog all the time.”
She reminded me how we had originally met some years ago. When we finished talking, I didn’t know how to end the conversation. What do you say to someone who has chosen when and how to terminate their life, and it is imminent?
“I wish you the best on your journey,” was what came out.
Evelyn smiled and hugged me as I wiped away my tears. She was comforting me when it should have been the other way around.
Late on the eve of her chosen date, I woke up, my mind filled with Evelyn. I couldn’t go back to sleep and wanted to make some final gesture toward her. We have speech to communicate our thoughts and feelings to others. However, sometimes there are no words sufficient for the task, and we must do the best we can. I settled on sending her an email which said: Goodbye, Evelyn. I’m thinking about you. I didn’t know if she’d even read it, but at least I had reached out. The next morning, an email from her was waiting in my inbox: Goodbye, Lee Gale. I’m looking forward to crossing the rainbow bridge. By the time I read her response, she had already made that passage.
I was deeply moved by Evelyn. Could I do such a thing in a similar circumstance? Would I do it? Dare I do it? I’m grateful that such an option exists for me, just in case.
Evelyn had chosen death on her own terms. She would be spared an agonizing or stuporous end to her life. Her decision enabled her final days to be lighthearted and content. Happy Deathday, Evelyn.
Don't Be a Stick-in-the-Mud (11-1-21)
Last weekend in Northern California where I live, we experienced a day sandwiched by two nights of continuous, torrential rain, or as the evening news informed viewers: a bomb cyclone. That was the backdrop to what turned out to be a seesaw several hours for me starting with opening my front door in the morning to a waterfall downpour, a flooded street, and an equally inundated garage. I wadded through, got into my car, and turned the key–to silence. There was no sound of an engine turning over and no lights on my dashboard–the car was dead. I called the Auto Club (AAA) for a battery charge. Forty-five minutes later, a serviceman arrived.
“It looks like you left your parking lights on and ran down the battery.”
“Of course I didn’t leave my lights on. They’re set to go on and off automatically.”
Then, I remembered that I had been out of town for the previous few days, and while traveling to my destination, I had come upon a stretch of road with signs advising me that headlights were required for the next four miles. It was the middle of the day–bright and sunny, and I had absolutely no idea how to turn on my headlights manually; they only come on when it’s getting dark.
I grabbed at the dial and started turning it, but I couldn’t tell if the lights had come on or not. I tried to re-position the dial where it had started, but maybe I miscalculated. Truth be told, I hate that car manufacturers make my car do my thinking for me. Just give me a knob to pull in and out when I want to turn the headlights on and off. Instead, there is a spinner with five choices indicated by tiny, indecipherable icons, all confusing. At 70 miles per hour, I was in no position to bend over and contemplate little pictures let alone figure out what they meant. It was a barren stretch of highway, and I wasn't about to stop on the shoulder in order to consult the car manual. I drove the four miles sans headlights, hoping I wouldn’t be stopped by the Highway Patrol or kill anyone in my headlightsless state.
The serviceman jumped the battery, and the car came to life. I chose to have him install a new one anyway.
I don’t want this to happen again, I thought.
Well, I was on my way with just a slight setback. I spent the rest of the day with my children and grandchildren laughing, playing board games, and enjoying a wonderful bonding experience.
Later, after everyone left, I was on my way home after doing a few chores. It was still raining bathtubfuls, but I was in full control, or so I thought. I soon realized I was headed in the wrong direction. Instead of using a driveway to enable my correction, I noticed a vacant, unpaved, land parcel on the corner.
Hmmm, I’ll just drive through that lot which will be much easier.
The possible consequences of intense rain didn’t even factor into my thoughts. I was a few feet onto the dirt when my tires began spinning. I put the car into reverse–more spinning. Some nearby residents saw my plight and came running to assist me as the rain pummeled them.
“What did you do, slip off the road?”
“No, I was trying to turn around. Pretty stupid, huh?”
My Good Samaritans brought wooden boards for the car’s wheels. The two of them spent about 20 minutes crouched down in the mud jamming the planks in front of my tires to aid my escape. I stepped on the gas pedal and gunned and gunned, but nothing worked. All my tires did were to dig in deeper.
The only recourse was to call AAA to be towed out. I hadn’t used the services of AAA in about a decade, and now twice in one day–gawd! The first tow truck arrived--a flat bed. With hands on hips, the driver assessed the situation and pronounced that he couldn’t do the job with his rig. He called into dispatch for the right kind of tow and left. Another 45 minutes, and now it was very dark out with no letup in the rain. Finally, a savior arrived with the right vehicle.
“What did you do, slip off the road?”
“Ah, it’s a long story.”
Savior bravely stood in the poorly lit street dressed in a neon rain suit and stopped oncoming traffic from both directions. Then, he hooked up my car to his behemoth vehicle, complete with a forbidding light panel on top, and pulled me out in under a minute. When you’ve got the right tool for the job, anything is possible.
One has several choices with a bummed out day like that. I could let it spoil my warm feelings from the time spent with my family, or I could shrug it off and accept that this too shall pass; I chose the latter. While waiting for the tow truck, I called my son who put the phone on loudspeaker so he and my grandchildren could hear my adventures. They were laughing about Grandma’s debacle, and each had an opinion to offer on the matter–more bonding.
When life hands you mud, make mud pies. That’s what the kids do.
Not Everything Is Everyone's Thing (10-18-21)
Did your parents want you to be a doctor, lawyer, or Indian chief (an expression popularized in the 1940s), and you wanted to be an artist (painter, actor, singer, dancer, musician, and all the rest that fall into that category)? You can substitute a similar scenario with the professions being different or you in the parental role with your own children or grandchildren.
It’s not that the adults are uncaring or insensitive. In the majority of cases, they do have their loved one’s interests at heart. However, the more traditional career choices offer a better shot at security, money, power, and other attributes that seem like they should be the most sought after endgame. Those who opt for the chancier paths might end up starving or pretty close to it.
What about the goal of self-satisfaction? Isn’t that worthwhile? Most artists wouldn’t dream of trading their preference for a tried and true but maybe boring or unstimulating lifestyle. The security they forgo for the chance to express themselves in a manner which brings them joy and fulfillment is a no-brainer. That inner creative is always striving to get out no matter how much it is thwarted.
When another human, regardless of their relationship to you, seems to be moving toward what you consider an inadvisable course but which is obviously their passion, how about offering encouragement and support rather than dismissal and put downs? The latter approach may force them to become a D, L, or IC but at what expense? They might spend the rest of their life discontented, pining for the dream they never followed, and resentful of you.
The amassing of more and more money and power is not the Holy Grail as too many believe. As long as one has enough to feed and shelter themselves, pursuing their ideal trajectory may be enough for them. Yes, the parental figure may have acquired the fancy house with all the state-of-the-art appointments and accompanying toys, but who is really more content?
Years ago, I read that the difference in happiness between someone who earns $5,000 and $50,000 per year is significant because the lower earner is without basic necessities. However, the difference in happiness between someone earning $50,000 and $50,000,000 is non-existent. The numbers may have bumped up proportionally due to inflation, but the concept remains valid.
Rejoice in your loved one’s lifestyle decision. Respect them as the person they are. Admire them for living the life that works for them.
The Affliction of Perfection (10-4-21)
So many strive to be perfect, like an antique, porcelain vase–so exquisite, so flawless. People with this affliction need to look impeccable at all times, exceed at school and employment, have a happy family, and on and on. They will go to great lengths to achieve this goal, even to the point of imperiling their own physical and mental wellbeing.
That’s a curse I’ve been fighting for decades ever since I became aware in grammar school of the requirement for perfection. For me, and I’m sure for too many others, it’s much harder to not be perfect than to be perfect. Personal perfection was drilled into my generation starting in childhood for both males and females. The paths for the different sexes was different then but is less so these days. That same pressure on children is still ongoing, just in another iteration.
I have to work at it all the time to give myself permission to be less than… or even to fail. I can be compassionate and understanding with another’s stumble while beating myself up for the same behavior. Being kind to yourself is soooo hard to do.
In some handmade Persian rugs and carpets, the weavers deliberately make a mistake. The rationale is to not offend Allah, as they believe only their God creates perfection. Deliberate flaws are also practiced by Navajo weavers. The defect allows the maker’s spirit to find its way out of the rug if it becomes trapped there during the rendering. Such behavior serves to remind the craftsmen that errors are intrinsic to human beings.
Are you afflicted with the illness of perfection? Do you berate yourself when you don’t achieve it? Do you spend days in a bad mood, often without knowing why? Are you far harder on yourself than on anyone else? Isn’t that getting old already? What can you do about it?
The reality is that we’ll probably never be able to throw off the affliction of perfection completely–it’s too ingrained. What we can strive for is to reduce the time we spend being distressed about our lesser performance. Like so many other behavior changes, it will only happen in baby steps.
Be mindful when you’re feeling that vague, down sensation. Be conscious of when it is spreading and washing over you. Explore whether the underlying cause is because you didn’t excel in a recent situation. Realize what you’re doing to yourself. Acknowledge that you want to move past it. Then, endeavor to let it go, forgive yourself, and move on.
If you practice that technique or something similar, you may find that the amount of time between the first and last steps diminishes. It will be a slow process, but keep at it. Of course, with or without using such a method, you’ll eventually get from the “bummed out stage” to the “letting-it-go” stage just as you always have. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could do so in hours rather than days?
Reduced to Tears (9-19-21)
Have you ever been out and about doing your thing, and you see someone or a group of someones who move you unexpectedly and intensely? Such a situation is usually unanticipated. It might tap into something very personal for you and even reduce you to instant tears, a disconcerting feeling.
What do you do in such an event? Do you stare unabashedly as the scene unfolds? Do you look away and sneak furtive glances? Do you approach and attempt to engage the person or persons in conversation? Do you repay them in some way for “making your day”? Do you castigate them for ruining your day?
I had such a situation happen to me recently. However, I was the mover not the movee. I have an adult, developmentally disabled daughter, and we were at a local, fast-food restaurant sitting at a table on the patio eating hamburgers. My daughter, always chatty, was commenting and asking questions about everything and everyone, especially the other customers.
“What is that man eating, Mom?”
She pointed to a young man dressed in a shirt and tie sitting alone at a table next to ours.
“It looks like a hamburger, the same as we have.”
I told her that we should not disturb him and just let him enjoy his lunch. She didn’t say anymore on the matter, but she continued to stare at his fascinating cuisine.
The object of her interest finally finished eating while we were about halfway through our meal, and he got up and left. A short time later, I noticed him coming out of the restaurant. He then walked directly up to us, placed a plastic card on the table that had the name of the restaurant on it, and said, “Here, this is for you.”
I looked at the man and told him I didn’t understand. He answered, “I want you to have this. It’s for free meals the next time you come.”
I thought he might work there, but I still couldn’t fathom why he was giving us the gift card, so I questioned him further about it. He went on to explain the reason for his gift. He had been observing my daughter and me, and he was very moved by our interaction. He had a special needs sister whom he had not seen for over a year, and he missed her very much.
The man was wearing a Covid mask, but I could tell that he was holding back tears behind the face covering. We had obviously struck a chord in him, and his only way of showing appreciation and connecting with us was to buy us a gift card. I knew that the kindness on my part would be to accept his offering, which seemed to mean a lot to him.
“Thank you very much. We’ll definitely come back and use it.”
Our benefactor acted eager to leave; I think he was dismayed and embarrassed by his show of emotion. He probably never imagined that one minute he would be casually eating his lunch and the next minute he would be breaking down in public like that.
I had a similar scenario happen to me many years ago. I was at a park with a friend. He had to get something from the car, so I was just sitting on the blanket waiting for him. I noticed a man and a young child at the small creek nearby. He was holding her under her arms while he skipped her feet from stone to stone as she giggled. It was apparent that the small girl with the perky, blond ponytail was severely handicapped. My friend returned a few minutes later to find me sobbing uncontrollably. It had tapped into my role as the mother of a disabled child which I’d been managing to handle with great fortitude.
Sometimes, unplanned encounters act upon us so suddenly and with such force that we lose control. They access deep emotions that we’ve been suppressing. The surprise element hits us before we can muster our defenses, and the feelings burst forth on their own accord. It is nothing to be ashamed of. We all have profound sensibilities which we have buried and which sometimes spring to the surface despite our best efforts. View it as a blessing and not a curse; it’s okay to be human.
Coat Hangers (9-6-21)
Our laws just significantly reversed course on abortion. The United States Supreme Court recently allowed to stand, pending litigation, a new law in the state of Texas restricting abortions after six weeks of pregnancy (a controversial time when a fetal heartbeat supposedly can be detected), a point when some women don’t even know they’re pregnant. That time delay as the matter slowly wends its way through the lower courts will be too slow for many women currently seeking abortions in Texas, a procedure that is time sensitive with a short expiration date.
Texas politicians used a clever trick incorporated into their law by banning state enforcement of illegal wrongdoing, instead authorizing private citizens to file civil suits against those “aiding and abetting” an abortion. Lyft and Uber, the major ride sharing companies, have announced that they will pay the legal fees of their drivers who are sued for such an act–abracadabra, from driver to aider-and-abettor while just trying to support themselves and their families.
If successful in court, plaintiffs will stand to profit by 10,000 big ones–a pretty good incentive to become tattletales. Right-to-life advocates have started the ball rolling to control the bodies of the entire United States population of fertile females.
Now in Texas and coming soon to other copycat states, friends, foes, spouses, children, parents, siblings, neighbors, strangers, or any other human residing in that fair state will be able to secure recompense from a civil court by outing an act of assisting an abortion. Websites have even been created for the right-minded to post tip-offs on potential offenders who might violate this shiny, new law. Such laws enable the proliferation of that ancient and profitable profession: bounty hunter, particularly popular 150 years ago in the Old West of our glorious country.
I wonder if such an outcome would survive the legal tests if the bodies in question belonged to men. For example, if a state passed a law that an adult male must undergo a vasectomy prior to sexual congress with a female who chooses not to become pregnant, might there be an uproar heard from the Pacific to the Atlantic as well as non-contiguous states and territories? Hey, fellas, it’s no big deal. If you eventually decide you want your own progeny, vasectomies are reversible, or you can become a bona fide daddy via artificial insemination using your own little gene carriers.
Pregnant women themselves cannot be sued under the new Texas law for seeking an abortion. However, they will be hard-pressed to find competent assistance to do so. Do these decision makers and passers-of-laws really think that their new restrictive, abortion law will prevent women from having abortions? Do they really believe that women will not turn to whatever means available to prevent delivering an unwanted child?
The truth is that woman will do what they did historically. Those few with the means will decamp to other states or countries where abortion is legal. Those many without the means will clandestinely seek abortions in unsterile conditions with locations accessed through back alley entrances and run by self-taught practitioners. Or, they might revert to the trusty, do-it-yourself method using a wire coat hanger as their medical instrument of choice. Such procedures, of course, will result in many more deaths of said rebel females. Well, maybe those oh-so-wise legislators believe that’s just collateral damage as they put all their efforts into the rights of the unborn, only to walk away from such support once that child is birthed.
Is this the first step of American women going the way of Afghani women: back into the house under the total control of men? Is that what we want to do to fifty percent of our productive population? That will not only push women into the dark ages again but our entire country as well.
This blog is most often directed to retirees, baby boomers, and seniors, a demographic rarely faced with having to seek abortions. Why should they care? Well, because, they have children and grandchildren who might be impacted.
Life is sacred. Each new birth should be cherished, nurtured, and supported. If a woman has decided she is unable or unwilling to do those things, shouldn’t she be the one to make that decision instead of some self-appointed, parental figure who “knows best”?
Props (8-23-21)
Have you ever known someone who is always on, always performing, usually to direct attention to him/herself? Maybe you are that type of person. We all want attention, but I’m talking about the ones who have carried that pursuit to an extreme.
Everyone is a potential prop in their dramatization. They play off of us to any onlookers they can attract, all with the goal, conscious or not, of enhancing themselves and “wowing” their audience.
I worked with a man many years ago who was a master of this technique. I was periodically his target when he’d blindside me, grabbing me around the waist while his buddies looked on. The worst incident was when he forced me backwards, held me in a dance dip position, and started nibbling my neck “all in fun,” as he laughed and performed for the ogling office staff, which was mesmerized by his charismatic personality. Yes, he was the performer in the limelight, and I was his non-consenting prop.
Today, that type of behavior could be classified as sexual harassment. Back then, although embarrassed, I just laughed it off as, Oh, that’s just Jack being Jack. Jack-being-Jack made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t have the words, tools, or support to do anything about it. Jack was not the only one who tried such antics on me at the office, he was just the worst.
The governor of New York has recently resigned due to a pattern of sexual harassment behavior toward woman on his staff. Harvey Weinstein, not so long ago at the pinnacle of a major film production company, is now serving a prison sentence for similar behavior. It’s amazing how the empowerment of classes of people can now bring down those who view themselves as entitled to act with impunity toward them.
Yes, Mr. Governor, times have changed. However, the line that you and others like you have crossed has not been moved as you assert; it has just been outed. Such behavior has always been unacceptable, but today, perpetrators are identified, confronted, and ejected from their lofty positions.
Let me be clear: intimidating behavior can be carried out by women, too; it’s not gender based. It may also include acts other than sexual harassment, which can occur in any setting, not just a work environment. Any type of threat or duress to gain compliance from the victim for the benefit of the offender is part of this pattern. The commonality is that it occurs by the more powerful toward the less powerful for the purpose of advantage to the former.
If you are a victim of uncomfortable, embarrassing, humiliating, intimidating, or criminal behavior by someone with significant dominion over you, how might you respond? There are several avenues available to you:
Many of the powerful have fallen in recent years after their behavior has been exposed. It’s not necessary to continue succumbing to harassment aimed at you. You can have a voice.
Unspoken Norms (8-9-21)
They are not uttered in public; they’re not written down; no one will admit to them. They are the unspoken rules of society passed down from parent to child. They don’t even have to be verbalized to little Justin or Janine. Just a look, a nod, a smile, or a frown from a parent, teacher, or other role model conveys all that is needed.
These silent instructions on how to behave and with whom to associate permeate race, religion, ethnicity, and socio/economic levels: “Stay away from ‘them,’ ” or “Hang around with your own kind.” Lessons such as these form today’s caste system wrapped up in a new bow but just as crippling. They restrict those of different groups from intermingling “too much.” They govern who little J or J grows up to associate with, marry, and even what they study in school, where they work, and in what neighborhood they live.
Yes, times they are a changin’ but by inches rather than miles. Prejudice abounds and influences. Whole genres of people are excluded from progressing just because they don’t fit in, don’t belong. When we as a collective perpetuate such conduct, we miss out on potential betterment.
Gustavo Dudamel, the world renowned symphony conductor, was born into a poor, Venezuelan family. He was mentored as a child through “El Sistema,” a program in his home country to train disadvantaged but gifted children in classical music. By 2009, he rose to become the conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Symphony, and he continues to serve in that capacity as its music and artistic director.
Why do the offspring of rich, prominent people receive so many more advantages with such little effort compared to a Dudamel? Top universities offer legacy admissions to children of renowned alumni. Often, donations or prestige to said schools are part of the mix. Are these entitled kids so talented that they contribute significantly to the benefit of the greater good? Well, some may be, but many are not, bagging those coveted spots despite their own mediocre showing while waving around Mommy or Daddy’s creds.
Ponder the future benefits to our country that could be wasted by awarding the best college opportunities and job positions based on parentage or social position. Consider the genius we might be overlooking as so many jockey to keep particular groups down. Look at the potential skills and contributions that might fall by the wayside due to classifying hundreds of thousands of immigrants as illegal and therefore not allowed in. There could be a future Albert Einstein languishing in those detention cages.
Is mankind destined to continue shooting itself in its proverbial foot generation after generation? Will we remain small-minded forever? Where are our visionary leaders to put a stop to such backward thinking and lead us to greater advancement, prosperity, and happiness?
Hoarding (7-25-21)
We all save things under the guise of “you never know when you may need it.” This “stuff” can range from old furniture and clothes to string and paper bags. In this age of too much waste and a trend toward recycling, such behavior is laudable.
However, what happens when saving becomes chronic? There is a term for that: hoarding.
There are several possible reasons for why one becomes a hoarder. Explanations can include an obsessive-compulsive disorder, an adaptation to having experienced deprivation in earlier years, or having been raised in a similar environment.
Some hoarders live among excessive clutter to the point of not being able to sit on chairs and couches inside their homes, such locations having been usurped by their treasures. They may have to walk through narrow paths etched out of their possessions just to travel from room to room.
Hoarding behavior spills over into all domains of its practitioners: garages, cars, workplaces, and the like. Many of these locations can barely be breached due to the barricade constructed from their cache. There are the stacks of newspapers and magazines waiting to be read or re-read. There is the latest Amazon gadget not yet assembled. There might be that very serviceable item begging to be repaired.
Hoarders aren’t able to clean the house of accumulated dirt and dust because they can’t even get to it. Assorted vermin such as mice, rats, and insects may have taken up residence among the tunnels and caves created by the stash. These creatures are very content with their oh, so comfortable living arrangements. Their offspring thrive on the conditions, and great and great-great grandchildren proliferate. These multigenerational families live side by side as the hoarder continually increases their housing stock.
Hoarders are often well organized; they know where everything is. They may have to dig through several inches or feet of their piles to find what they are seeking, but that is just a minor inconvenience to them. The hoarder is usually quite content with this way of living. It is others who have a problem with it. So, the extreme hoarder may stop inviting people to visit. They can’t face another comment like, “Gee, everything is all over the place. Are you moving?” or “It looks like a bomb fell in here.”
Clutterers and hoarders are not quite the same. They probably fall on a continuum with the former being the lite version of the latter. Nevertheless, regardless of the degree of messiness of such a lifestyle, it may prove unpalatable to those on the neatness end of the scale.
If you are a hoarder and are happy with your home as you’ve arranged it, then there is no problem. However, what if you are someone who shares a dwelling with a hoarder such as a spouse, child, parent, or roommate? If you’re okay with it, again there’s no problem. However, what do you do if you hate living that way but have decided for whatever reason (love, lack of funds, still a minor…) to continue residing with the hoarder? Here are several possible approaches to consider:
Coming Out Party (7-11-21)
It used to be that only debutantes had coming out parties. They were called balls–glitzy and expensive social gatherings accompanied by music, dancing, and food. Young women, typically daughters of wealthy families, were formally introduced to society and appropriate, eligible bachelors.
Currently, we are in the midst of a different type of coming out party: an international, collective, coming out of lockdown party. It celebrates leaving behind a physical and mental state imposed upon us by the Covid 19 pandemic that isolated us from each other and prevented us from reaching our full potential.
Fortunately, technology provided us with ways to connect via such inventions as Zoom and other online interfaces. However, after over a year of Zooming and the like, it’s gotten wearisome. We are anxious to shed our chrysalis and fly free.
Many of my clubs and activities are opening up for in-person get-togethers and leaving our internet meetings behind. Social connection video websites, even with their limitations and glitches, have been wonderful to occupy us and fill our hours of isolation during that forced cloister state. However, my intermittent back pain reminds me that I have been spending too many hours sitting in front of a computer screen filled with little boxes containing talking heads. Now, I am anxious to exchange virtual human interaction for the real thing. It’s time to give up that alone life inside my abode and come out into the daylight
Long since fully vaccinated, I am slowly discarding my cloak of hibernation just as millions of cicadas, those elusive insects, recently did in large swaths of our country at their own coming out party after seventeen years of lockdown. In comparison, we humans have been fortunate that our sequestration was only a year.
It has been a slow, cautious awakening. It still feels strange to be anywhere in the vicinity of other homo sapiens without a protective covering over my mouth and nose lest I transmit or receive those killer, aerosol drops.
We are social animals meant for real human contact. It nourishes and nurtures us.
Unsolicited Critiques (6-27-21)
There is a certain critical personality type. They often make unsolicited, hurtful comments to friends and strangers alike. These can be in the form of left-handed compliments that seem on their face to be positive but have a zinger at the end. I don’t know if the perpetrators are even aware of how their scolding verbalizations come across. Here are a few I’ve received down through the years, none of which I requested:
“Lee Gale, you’re so attractive. You’d be a knockout if you had your face done.” This was uttered by a “friend” who herself chased after that illusive youth using plastic surgery and other procedures. She once confided that she’d have another face-lit if she could afford it. She was in her 70s at the time.
"You know, you’d look much younger if your hair weren’t white.” This was pronounced by a first date who himself had questionable hair. (I think I’ve mentioned this one before in another blog; I’ve never forgotten his verdict.)
“I see you’ve stopped going to the beauty shop and let your hair color grow out. You always did have trouble spending money.” This was expressed by a neighbor who had been a casual friend whom I hadn’t seen in years. She sported an expensive, dyed/highlighted coiffure sitting atop her 85-year-old body.
A relative recently told me that someone commented on her weight problem with the "helpful" suggestion that she attend Weight Watchers. Does the commenter think the victim of their "well-meaning" suggestion doesn't know about that program? Does said messenger think that they are bringing enlightenment to said receiver of their unrequested advice? Just about all people battling being overweight know more than anyone the programs, literature, and treatments available. They don't need to be schooled by "well-doers."
Why do people act like that? Where did they learn such insensitive behavior? Are they really clueless as to how painful such remarks can be? Often, the answer to those questions has to do with their own insecurities. Maybe a parent, teacher, sibling, spouse or peer was hypercritical of them? Perhaps they are perfectionists who insist on that trait in everyone else? They might get a payoff by making someone else squirm?
When you closely examine such a “Good Samaritan,” you may find that they are not as perfect as they’d like to think they are. Everyone has faults. Often, the very thing they criticize others for is something they hate in themselves.
If you’re a person who nitpicks with your criticisms, think about why you do that? Then, cut it out or you might end up with no friends at all. We really don’t want to hear your negative editorials. If we are such a turnoff to you in our present form, then take your business elsewhere. Remember and practice that old adage: “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”
How to Pitch to Seniors (6-13-21)
Many younger people don’t seem to have a clue about how to talk to seniors. They use words and techniques that are inappropriate for the conversation, the setting, or the interaction. I have heard this from other seniors and experienced it myself, often in retail sales situations where a younger salesperson is trying to sell his/her widgets to someone the age of their grandparents. I’ve written on this subject previously in this forum. (See my blog of December 29, 2016: Words that Diminish.)
I’ve never understood why enterprises don’t teach inter-generational communication techniques in their employee training sessions. Seniors make up a huge demographic with plenty of money to spend on merchandise and services. They should be courted and approached with the goal of a successful deal. That starts with meaningful communication. So, in the interest of commerce for the betterment of all, here are some tips for those in the business world on how to pitch to senior clients:
Aw, Go Fly a Kite (5-30-21)
I was walking in a lovely park on a beautiful spring day with my son recently. What a treat! His family was occupied with other activities. Usually there is someone else around competing for his attention, but this time I had him all to myself.
After strolling through pristine nature including along the waterline of a Pacific Ocean bay, we came upon a section filled with kites and their handlers. They were of all sizes, shapes, colors, and persuasions, both aerial gliders and grounded pilots. There was even a mobile kite shop housed in a truck to fulfill all one’s kiting needs.
I guess the word had gotten around to the local practitioners and aficionados as to the location of the kite happening. New arrivals steadily joined those already there, with many launching their prized entrants.
The gliders battled in an unofficial competition, vying for the originality of their designs and the skill of their operators. They sported elaborate patterns, long tails, and a human at the other end adept at manipulating the thin string that separated them. I witnessed complicated maneuvers including swooping, soaring, and a variety of loop-the-loops. One acrobatic combination outdid the next with the tails forming coils, snakes, figure eights and the like.
Kites bring up many thoughts. “Go fly a kite” was a provocative taunt used by young people which began over 100 years ago. It was also blurted out to encourage an irritating person to leave. Of course, I must not forget to mention the most famous kite flyer of all: Benjamin Franklin. In 1752, he proved the connection between lightning and electricity by attaching a wire, a hemp string, a silk string, and finally a metal key to a kite which he launched during a thunder storm. For more in-depth details of Franklin’s experiment, google it.
We humans are like kites. We soar to great heights, swoop to great lows, and our wobbly path through life definitely consists of loop-the-loops. Yet we are tethered to our responsibilities: family, children, jobs… The leash keeps us secure, but it should not stop us from flying. Always be a kite. Just because you are grounded and stable does not mean you can’t reach for the sky.
Loss, Loss, and More Loss (5-17-21)
A friend recently asked me to write a blog about death or decline as is happening to many friends in her life and certainly in mine. She talked about the sadness she feels as she deletes yet one more contact from her address list. That reality also hits as she sees names she recognizes in the obituary column or hears about the passing of celebrities in the upper age ranges.
When we reach the category of senior citizen, we are supposed to enter our golden years. The prize is to be wise, content, and find purpose. Yes, we may have those feelings some of the time, but like all ages and stages, life is cyclical.One of the low points of being a senior is how losing peers seems to be accelerating. This ranges from significant others to mere acquaintances. The number of collective deaths increases dramatically as more and more age plateaus are reached.
Living in a senior retirement community of thousands, I hear ambulance sirens more often than before I moved here. News of someone in my sphere dying has sped up, like the counter on the gas pump as you squeeze harder on the nozzle trigger. So many close friends or relatives are gone. Those who are left keep wondering which one will be next.
Many years ago, my longtime friend, Maya, and I had a similar discussion. She had been slowly deteriorating as her Parkinson’s disease progressed.
“You’re the last man standing, Lee Gale,” she told me one day, while comparing my robust body with her frail one.
I lost Maya a few years ago. She was four years younger than I. Her husband allowed me to choose some of her belongings to keep. Although they don’t match my decor, that’s not important. They enhance my home, reminding me of her and of our friendship, which is so much more important than lack of color or style coordination. Other rooms display belongings from family members and friends who are now gone, too. Those treasures comfort me and make me feel connected to the ones who have exited my life.
I’ve written before on loss and death. See my blogs of December 9, 2018: “A Tandakoan's Reflection on an Obituary," and December 4, 2016: “The Death of a Friend.”
Such considerations can cripple us and plunge us into fear and depression. We must fight against harmful emotions by trying hard to emphasize the wondrous parts of our lives. Of course, it’s restorative to mourn our losses. However, at the same time we must preserve what brings us pleasure and purpose: friends, family, activities, learning, exploration, and so on? Don’t let those valuable nuggets slip away. Hang onto them as if your life depended upon it, because it does. Continue to immerse yourself in those pursuits, and let them heal you.
Full-Time Half-Mast (5-2-21)
American flag flies at the entrance to the community where I live. These days, it seems to be perpetually at half-mast. The practice started several centuries ago and referred to such an action on a ship. When done on land, the term is: half-staff. Currently, both terms are used interchangeably. There is also strict protocol on the raising and lowering of a flag to this position.
The half-mast tradition is to show respect, distress, or mourning. Many years ago, I remember it only being used following the death of someone of great importance such as the president of the United States. Nowadays, more and more it is to honor those killed in local mass violence incidents.
In recent times, such occurrences seem to be a daily happening in our nation. I no longer even ask why the flag is flying at half-mast. Too many people have become angry, disenchanted with the life in this country, and are looking to take out as many people as they can, often committing suicide as an encore to their finale.
I’ve never understood why such an act seems so compelling. What is it about murdering a bunch of humans before doing yourself in rather than just the latter alone that motivates these mass murderers? Perhaps what I should be asking is why such behavior has become so commonplace? Is it the ease in obtaining weapons that makes it quick and effective? Is it the trendy “way to go” which rubs off from one to another? Is it the making of some grand statement before exiting with a flourish? We can’t just chalk it up to mental illness as some propose. There are a lot of mentally ill individuals who do not commit mass murder. Conversely, there are numerous mass murderers who are not mentally ill.
Of course, it’s impossible to know why any one individual stockpiles weapons and ammunition, singles out their Homo sapiens of choice, and goes at it. Sometimes, we can surmise the reason when their prey consists of significant others, or the deed is carried out at a workplace where the assassin had been castigated or dismissed from their job and is looking for payback to targeted victims. However, so often the crime is executed against total strangers. Perhaps they represent something in the perpetrator’s mind as ideal for a symbolic act of revenge.
Whether or not we figure out the motive, the fact remains that the scourge is increasing. Domestic murder has grown to epidemic proportions right along with COVID-19. No longer can children just go out and play in the streets as they did when I was a child. Today, it’s supervised play dates with friends or being accompanied by parents wherever they go.
Grab life while you can, folks. You never know who’s going to go off when you or your loved ones randomly happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Home Therapy (4-18-21)
I love to hang around hardware stores; I always have. They contain such fascinating items for building and repairing anything you can think of. Engaging with the store clerks helps me learn about the gadgets I’m encountering. When I was a young bride, I’d frequent hardware stores to help in decorating our new home. So often, a clerk, usually an older man, would advise me to have my husband come in so he could explain it to him.
“My husband has ten thumbs,” I’d snap. “I’m the mechanical one, so explain it to me!”
Okay, maybe it was only eight thumbs, but his strengths favored his mind, not his fine motor skills. I remember the day we bought the crib for our soon-to-be-born first child. After choosing from all the beautiful ones on display at the baby store, we were handed a box to take home and assemble. My husband insisted on doing the job; isn’t that what a new father is supposed to do? I could see that he was screwing it up, but whenever I tried to offer advice, he got mad. We had a big argument over that one. When he went to work the next day, I took it all apart and reassembled it correctly.
I often go to Home Depot which is the largest home improvement company in the country open to the general public. Its locations all look the same: a cube of a warehouse filled with most things to fix or upgrade your digs. It also operates in Mexico and Canada.
HD has aisle after aisle with such intriguing signs as: plumbing, electrical, lumber, garden, storage, shelving, hardware, fasteners, doors, bath, kitchen, fencing, mowers, lighting, insulation, tools, and the list goes on. Each intrigues me. It’s better than the proverbial candy store lusted after by kids. I can’t wait to find out what wonders are there. I’ve written before on my adventures at HD. (See my blog of May 27, 2019 titled: “Watson.”)
A friend calls it my therapy. In fact, she renamed the store “Home Therapy.” She’s right, and it’s a lot cheaper than ongoing sessions with a psychotherapist. Don’t tell the Home Therapy management, or they’ll start charging me an entrance fee. So right now, after walking the rows at HT for the past few hours, I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot writing this blog.
Unfortunately, HT, as wonderful as it is, can’t measure up to the hardware stores of my youth. Those independently operated, mom and pop gems didn’t have merchandise in little plastic bags with the manufacturer’s paper label on them, forcing you to buy a dozen screws when you only needed two.
Most of them have gone under, driven out by big chains like HT. However, one that held on for almost 100 years before closing in 2017 was in Santa Monica, California, near where I lived for the first 75 years of my life. It was called: Busy Bee Hardware. When you walked into Busy Bee, shelves seem to go up to the ceiling filled with anything you could think of to aid in construction or repair. Yes, they had some items in the plastic bags with the paper labels, but many of those were dusty, having been there for eons it seems, just like the store personnel.
My favorite section of Busy Bee held their hidden stash. Strange little gadgets were sequestered in the wall of tiny, wooden drawers behind the counter that seemed to go on forever. Anything you could want or imagine was certainly there.
Today, I was searching for a very odd item. I had bought an antique lamp which I love. However, I’m planning to top it with a taller shade. That requires a taller harp (the wire apparatus which forms parentheses around the lightbulb and holds up the shade). The modern harps fit on the lamp, but the little threaded screw sticking up from the top to which I must attach the finial to hold the shade secure has a narrower diameter then the receiving end inside the lamp’s original finial. I had a similar situation with another old lamp, and it had an adapter inside. I’ve since learned that said item has a name: a lamp finial reducer. You simply screw it into the old finial and, presto, the inside threaded portion is narrowed, ready to screw onto its counterpart on a new age harp.
HT does not stock finial reducers. Apparently, they’re not a highly sought after item–go figure. I am sure that if I were able to visit Busy Bee Hardware and explain my problem to a staff member, he/she would go behind the counter, open one of those mysterious drawers, and pull out exactly what I need. Oh Busy Bee, I miss you.
Not everything new and shiny is so wonderful. Sometimes the things we used to take for granted and are now gone were better than their current replacements–at least those requiring finial reducers et al.
That Poor Scapegoat Just Can't Catch a Break (4-4-21)
When people are aggrieved, they often take to the streets to make their voices heard. I recently attended a public demonstration in my retirement village. The protesters were of all races, hues, genders, and ages, there to support the Asian community which is the current visible face of anger and blame for the anguish caused by the Covid 19 coronavirus currently ravishing mankind. For some irrational reason, just because said virus started in China, vitriol has been hurled against Asians, Chinese or not, even those who were born in the United States. You might just as well say that all humans are responsible because the virus started in the world.
I spent my time walking up and down the line of attendees, taking photographs of the mostly homemade signs many held up. They are re-produced below. I’ve written on the theme of public demonstrations before complete with photos of signs displayed by participants. (See my blog of January 21, 2017, “Speaking Out.”)
Everyone in the crowd was masked, still adhering to Covid 19 protocols, which made it difficult to recognize anyone I knew and vice versa. That didn’t matter; what mattered was body count. I was there in solidarity with a group whose members all shared the same indignation about the recent uptick in abuse toward Asians ranging from racially tinged statements to outright violence. The demonstrators were friendly and very appreciative of each one’s efforts.
Some people feel they must have a target toward which to aim their wrath–the stereotypical scapegoat, a concept that started 500 years ago. If one is not easily available, another will do just as well.
Folks are fearful and angry about the destruction that the Covid 19 virus has caused including death, illness, job loss, isolation, and more. Somehow, a few of the more deranged persuasion figure that harming an Asian will assuage those emotions. I’m not sure how you get from Point A to Point B in that particular scenario, but scapegoating just doesn’t work as the perpetrator intended. The coronavirus wreaking havoc on the world today is simply not interested in whom you choose to damage as it follows its natural course, fueled by the defiant and reckless behavior of too many.
The most recent outrage occurred during a mass shooting on March 16, 2021 at three Atlanta, Georgia spas, killing mostly Asian women. The confessed murderer, who may have religious conflict issues, apparently claimed he was having a bad day and that his motivation for committing the crimes was his sex addiction. I guess he’s positioning himself for the ever popular “the-devil-made-me-do-it” defense.
Any excuse one has for bad behavior does not mitigate their particular pressing problem or bad day. Viruses or any other social or natural problems are not influenced by which target you choose to blame, injure, or kill. Your same demons will be waiting for you after your dastardly deed, whether it be launching bullets or racial slurs.
Again I ponder as others have before me, “Why can’t we all just get along?” It seems humanity is always destined for the negative in that utopian goal.
Buying My Own Red Cabbage (3-22-21)
Eureka, I am free! I’ve had my second Covid 19 vaccine shot, and the requisite time has passed for all those little antibodies boogieing around inside to kick in and protect my corpus. I’m ready to come out of hibernation! I spent the entire lockdown without entering a supermarket. I’ve written on this theme before. (See my blog of 5-27-20: “Missing the Little Things.”). Now, finally, I can do my own shopping–oh joy, oh rapture!
Marketing chores had been done by erstwhile professional shoppers through the local shopping app, who then delivered them to my door. Thank you, guys. You are among the first responders, keeping the rest of us safe or at least safer. As a result of a breakdown in communication, however, at times I received some strange items having nothing to do with what I had in mind as my choices were fed into a computer.
As part of my last online order, I requested one red cabbage. My groceries arrived, and indeed it contained said item. However, it was the biggest red cabbage I have ever seen, weighing in at four pounds. I could have drilled a few holes and launched it as a lightweight bowling ball. I normally use red cabbage only as one of many ingredients in a green salad, so a small one lasts me a long time. Now that I had received a lifetime supply, I took to google for recipes. Subsequently, I have used my multi-pounder for items such as colorful coleslaw and braised sweet and sour cabbage. Nevertheless, I still have 1.63 pounds left–sigh.
Yes, I have been hungering, thirsting, and pining to do my own food shopping. What I used to consider just a necessary chore had become a wished for dream. Now, I am able to make my own decisions about how and what I eat. I cruise the aisles choosing my old favorites that had been unavailable to me with a middleman involved. I evaluate, weigh, and judge each item, using my brain and personal likes and dislikes. No longer am I a child to someone else’s parenting. Of course, my red cabbage scenario extrapolates to all the other areas of my life.
When we relinquish our personal power and control to someone or something else, we become dependent. It is then difficult to make our own decisions. So, I’ve taken mine back. I’m still sharp and don’t need caretakers. What about you? Once you’ve had your requisite vaccinations, reclaim what you had to give up. Step back into your big boy pants or big girl dress!
Squeezing in a Hike Between Rainy Days (3-7-21)
I pass through the gate separating my retirement community from the wilderness surrounding it--a demarcation line between bustling civilization and an untouched world. I’ve traversed that same divider before, each time feeling like I’m in the 1937 movie “Lost Horizon” where I turn a corner after having slogged through howling snow up treacherous mountain peaks, and Shangri-La opens up before me. I’ve written on this topic before–same location, different wonders. (See my blog of March 31, 2020, “Out and About in the Time of Covid 19”: https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2020/03/) What discoveries await me this time?
Here’s the first one: a pile of medium-sized boulders resting in the hollow of an otherwise smooth, grass-covered mini-valley. It is alone, this pile. How did it get here? What sliding glaciers or tumultuous waters deposited those hefty rocks in just this spot to rest for eons as their driving H2O slowly receded? When was that very instant when the raging forces began to dissipate, no longer having the power to move the boulders along? Now they sit, waiting for global warming to raise the ocean levels anew and trickle back to this area to continue the task of herding their charges along a mysterious path.
I scramble on, searching for the next find. There it is beneath my feet. My pathway is flanked by moss, brought out by the last rains. It forms a luxurious, green carpet against the brown dirt trail.
I come upon some scat which reminds me that this is not my private domain. A wild creature has been here recently. I am the invader, encroaching upon its territory.
I spot majestic trees at the top of the hill, the evergreens sporting their full-time leaves and the deciduous awaiting their spring foliage. They beckon me to dig deep for a reserve of strength to keep climbing. I struggle up and summit the crest, searching for my destination.
I see it–a large, isolated boulder. It must have been that same furious ice or liquid that positioned it here so long ago. Although hard to make out in the bright sunlight, it is chiseled on its face with 19th century hieroglyphics—a young man announcing his name and the date, 1855, to the world as young men have done since humans first encountered such convenient writing surfaces.
Time to turn back for home–enough for today. I leave Shangri-La behind, but I know it is there waiting for me to revisit whenever I choose. I’ll await the predicted rains in the coming days bringing their cleansing life force.
I’m left to ponder the very instant when our lives turn. We don’t usually recognize it while it’s happening–only in hindsight. Can we mobilize the fortitude to move forward once again, or must we wait eons?
Grappling with Opposing Political Views (2-22-21)
In today’s politically charged climate, what happens if a friend, relative, or anyone else in your immediate and frequent sphere has a different take on politics than you do? Considerations of that sort didn’t seem so important in years past. However, in modern times, they’ve increased by magnitudes. Relationships of all sorts have split due to such differences in political inclinations.
I had an experience in my own life. I am very close to a family member. We were having a talk, and the subject shifted to politics. Well, she certainly had a very different slant than I did. I was surprised as I hadn’t expected it. Soon, the discussion became heated and uncomfortable. Subsequently when we’d see each other, the same thing happened.
We both valued our relationship and didn’t want to ruin it. Without a spoken plan or official peace treaty, we just deleted politics as a potential topic of discussion when we got together. That worked very well for us.
Usually we choose our friends because we share things in common, politics being only one of a plethora. Nevertheless, we won’t agree on everything with everyone, and we don’t have to. When you feel a connection with someone and find a point of disagreement, avoidance is often the best solution. There’s nothing wrong with that.
The trend these days is to reveal our innermost thoughts and feelings. "Don’t hold it in" is the advice we hear from mental health professionals. Yes, that can be therapeutic. However, sometimes, it may not be the best course of action on certain subjects. Things such as politics, religion, and culture form our core beliefs. Do you really want to spend a significant portion of your valuable time trying to change another to be in lockstep with your particular version of how to live life?
If you are in a close relationship and you want it to thrive because it offers each party so much, you might want to consider avoidance as a way to slide over those areas where you are not in agreement. Avoidance is also a handy tool for less intimate yet still meaningful interactions that you do not want to damage such as employer/employee, teacher/student, coworkers, and the like. You must get along for those relationships to be successful, and avoidance of certain areas of potential conflict might serve you well. Must you really discuss your political leanings in the break room at your job? The chances are that it will only stir up animosity with someone, and you risk damaging productive teamwork.
Make the relationship work for you both, benefit from the things that attracted you to each other in the first place, and disregard the rest. Seek the wheat and let the chaff just drift away.
Your Own Worst Critic (2-7-21)
Why are people so critical of themselves? It starts in childhood when we become aware of the successes and failings of humans. We begin attaching that critical face and finger pointing by our elders to something bad, wrong, and unacceptable about us. We adopt the gesture ourselves, set it in stone, and turn it inward, constantly measuring ourselves compared to others. Somehow, that assessment always seems to be pitted against those who are more adept, not those who are less. The “less” we dismiss as anomalies while we hunger to be among the “more.”
As we mature, it seems that no matter how much we accomplish, there is always someone who bests us. We go on to extrapolate this to every aspect of our lives: how smart we are, how attractive, how rich, popular, accomplished, thin, tall, buff… The list is never ending. We carry this critical self-assessment into our senior years. Life is viciously competitive, and we never quite measure up. As people become adults, they get pretty good at covering up this lack of self-confidence, but it’s always there just under the surface, niggling away. It hobbles many completely.
A good friend recently sent me an email to view a video of a storytelling performance she was part of where each participant reads their own composition. Her opening comment before I even came to the link was how dissatisfied she was with her presentation. I watched the video and found her story and the telling of it to be charming as her work usually is. Yes, there were a few stumbles as she spoke, but they were minor and only added to her humanity.
I’m certainly guilty of self-criticism. No matter how hard I strive or how well I do, I never feel I’ve gotten it right. When I find blunders in my own work, my appearance (those unruly curls are always sticking out of place), or the numerous other aspects I focus on, I blow them up in my mind to giant failures.
The competition is unrelenting. I often feel I’m vying against others who appear to be wiser, more experienced, or have more college degree abbreviations following their names. Yes, I’m easing up on myself as I age, but I forever seem to be a work in progress.
Now, as a senior, that competition is often against the younger population. Is there ever a time interval where we’re allowed to be okay with who we are, where we are? The answer, of course, is yes. However, you must change your mindset. It has nothing to do with your age, sex, or any other descriptor you can attach to yourself. It’s simply a matter of making a decision that now is the moment you are just fine and in just the right time and place of your life.
Our new president, Joe Biden, misspeaks regularly in his talks before huge audiences. It stems from a childhood speech impediment. He is an inspiration to overcoming self-criticism, or if not fully conquering it, then carrying on in spite of it.
It’s time to forgive ourselves for being imperfect, folks, and to embrace our humanity. If we don’t finally get to kill off that little internal critic that we’ve carried with us all these decades into our senior years, when will we ever be able to do so?
New Year - New Start (1-24-21)
Today, I welcome a guest blogger, Priscilla Tudor. She is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker with 30 years experience in counseling, facilitating groups, and teaching classes and workshops. She was the manager of Counseling Services at Rossmoor, a gaited retirement community of 10,000 active seniors, for 15 years. She can be contacted at: [email protected]. Here is her guest blog:
NEW YEAR – NEW START “IN 2021 I WILL BECOME A HAPPY, FULFILLED PERSON, DESPITE COVID-19.” by: Priscilla Tudor
Does this seem like an impossible goal? Psychologists used to believe that happiness was primarily a function of our genetic make-up. David Lykken, University of Minnesota researcher, developed the concept of a genetically programmed “happiness set-point”. On a scale of 1-10 with one being very unhappy and 10 being extremely happy, Lykken initially thought that over the life span, people experienced temporary ups and downs, but always returned to their set point. In recent years as a result of further study, Lykken has revised his thinking. In January, 2005 he told Time magazine, “It is clear that we can change our happiness levels widely – up or down.” The idea that we can increase our happiness is the force behind a new branch of psychology, “Positive Psychology,” created by Dr. Martin Seligman, Professor of Psychology at the University of Pennsylvania. Research by Seligman and others has shown that we can become happier by changing our attitudes and beliefs and adopting new behaviors.
The process starts with making up your mind to become a happier more fulfilled person. Once you have established your goal, the following steps will help you achieve your objective:
New Years Day 2021 (1-10-21)
Throughout the world, folks have been anxious to leave 2020 in our collective dust. We’ve designated 2021 as a year of hope and change. We’ve been through a miserable time for the past year with bad behavior globally by Homo sapiens and microbial wannabes. (There is debate as to whether viruses are actually alive.) As the scene in the 1937 movie, Lost Horizon, so graphically illustrates, now is the time to round that last snow covered, treacherous mountain peak in the Himalayas and enter Shangri-La.
What did you do on January 1, 2021 to start yourself on this new course? Was it special, memorable, or the same old, same old?
I went for a glorious hike in a nearby, regional park covering over 6000 acres of unspoiled wilderness accompanied by my son who that very day marked a half century of living on this earth. We actually counted down on our watches as the time arrived when we first met fifty years earlier. Since then, on the opening day of each year, I have spoken with him to say "Happy Birthday" no matter where in the world he or I happened to be which at times has fallen on opposite sides of the globe. Yes, each January 1st, I remember very well where I was and what I was doing as I welcomed in a new child and a new year at the same time.
During our hike, we happened upon a corral of horses which is allowed by some government machination to be on this public land. A bit more hiking brought us to a few dozen cows, also given permission to reside there as they add to the health of the ecosystem according to a posted sign.
One cow was quite irate over our invasion of her territory, and she mooed us away in no uncertain terms. We did a 180 and skedaddled, but she followed us and continued harping. We bumped up our pace as her lowing faded into the background. I can’t blame her; I’m not thrilled either when others overstep my boundaries without asking permission.
After about two miles, the sun’s angle and our watches notified us it was time to turn around which was going to require another two mile hike. My energy began to flag, and I had to stop and rest more and more.
“Stay here, Mom. I’ll be right back,” said son as he walked off the trail toward a downed tree.
I could see him searching the debris, and he soon returned carrying a thin branch about six feet long and three inches in diameter. Thrusting one end in my direction and instructing me to grab it, he stepped ahead while holding the other end. Then, leaning into his task, he started to walk.
“Hang on, Mom,” commanded my self-appointed puller as he imparted some of his energy to me while remaining socially distanced in this time of Covid 19.
We proceeded like that at a good pace the rest of the way back as other hikers who passed us in the opposite direction glanced in amusement. I may have detected a little envy, too, but I’m not sure. Sometimes, natural resources and a bit of ingenuity are all that’s needed to solve a problem.
We must continue moving forward in these trying times, even when we don’t feel like it. Don’t give up. Be innovative. Seek out ways to improve your situation. Search away from your usual path, and grab your own tree limb to assist you.
Hope You Had a Happy/Merry Whatever (12-27-20)
This is the holiday season. It coincides with the winter months which can be a dreary and depressing time for many. Centuries ago, humans, those smart little buggers, figured out a way to brighten up this part of the year for themselves. What better way to raise spirits than a party? So, we created all the fun stuff that goes with such an occasion: invitations, decorations, songs, dances, particular symbols, special clothing, distinctive foods…
Of course, we must not forget gifts. We cogitate about them, agonize about them, shop for them, wrap them, and mutually exchange them, hoping that we got it right this year and the recipient won’t once more thank us profusely and sequester said item in the back of a drawer, never to be seen again.
Somewhere along the way, tribal instincts entered the picture. They included their own interpretation of how the celebrants should think and behave. Ritualism evolved. Boiled down to their respective essence, however, each is about the same, just with different window dressing. Nevertheless, individual actors or groups are positive that their particular spin is the right way, the only way.
Well, you know what happens in such situations: they devolve into “my way or the highway.” Bad behaviors arise like anger, rivalry, ostracism, violence, and wars simply because someone or a collection of someones has to prove that my variation on a theme is better than your variation on a theme.
We see this on personal levels, global levels, and everything in between. One’s ideas, beliefs, views, goals, lifestyle, blah, blah, blah are viewed as good, and anyone who opposes them is considered bad. Why do we as the highest level creatures on earth have to devolve into such grubby little characters? What’s the big deal, anyhow?
Rodney King, an average guy who most people never heard of, gained instant fame in 1991 after he was beaten by police officers following a high speed chase in connection with his arrest for drunk driving. The whole thing was caught on video, making him a celebrity. Subsequently, he questioned publicly why people can’t get along.
I ponder like Rodney. Why must everything be a competition? Why must it all turn into a cat fight? Why do we end up killing each other, literally and figuratively? Are we fated to that end; is it in our DNA; is there no other way we can behave?
I don’t have answers, only questions. One final one: Don’t you all just get tired of it already?
Life Has No Reverse Gear (12-13-20)
The 11th century Persian philosopher, mathematician, astronomer, and poet Omar Khayyam wrote a haunting and fateful observation. You may have encountered it sometime during your education, but it bears repeating: The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Yes, mankind figured out even a thousand years ago that the cog of life moves in only one direction: forward. That bit of wisdom is as true today as in Omar’s time. Once you have acted, you can’t un-act. No matter how much you rail, beat your chest, pray, or promise, an act or failure to act at any given instant cannot be undone.
How often have we wanted to step back just a moment, five minutes, an hour, a day… to reverse our chosen direction? It’s happened to all of us. You can’t get through life without occasional stumbles.
It happened to me recently pertaining to the publishing of my new book. Only after it was published did I learn that I could have gotten a Library of Congress Control Number. Their hard-and-fast rule, however, is that it must be obtained before the book is published. I had never even heard of such a number and the benefits it might bring.
I beat myself up over that, conjuring up all sorts of machinations to step back in time. None worked, and each made the situation more convoluted. After several sleep interrupted nights over my bad luck, I finally accepted that I would have to live with the consequences. Not long after, I learned about an unrelated opportunity that was soon to expire. I was able to take advantage of it just under the wire. In life, you can’t win ’em all.
The wins, of course, are exciting–the losses, not so much. So how do we survive the latter? First we must forgive ourselves for saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, or other failings. Next, we must be grateful that we do sometimes end up on the right side of time’s arrow. Finally, we must put it all to bed and move on.
I remember decades ago when my then husband took a course for several months to qualify for a one chance, specialty certificate in his profession with a deadline for completion. He attended classes at night after work for the prescribed months. When he had proof of passing the requirements, I watched as he filled out his application and placed it along with all the proper documentation into an addressed and stamped envelope. After a few weeks, he couldn’t understand why he had not received the coveted certificate.
I remember decades ago when my then husband had attended weekly classes for several months to qualify for a one chance, specialty certificate in his profession with a deadline for completion. He attended those classes at night after work for the prescribed months. When he had proof of passing the class requirements, he filled out his application with all the proper documents and placed them in an addressed and stamped envelope. After a few weeks, he couldn’t understand why he had not received the coveted certificate.
One evening as we were driving to visit friends, I was sitting on the passenger side and noticed the edge of an envelope sticking out from between the seats. I pulled it out and realized that it was his application. Needless to say, that revelation bummed him out completely and ruined not only our evening but his mood for the next many days.
It’s okay to be upset over situations like this for a short while, but we must get beyond it. I’ve written on this topic before. (See my blog of November 25, 2018: “Waiting for Upcycle Days“, and my blog of November 20, 2016: “You Win Some, You Lose Some.”) The only consolation is knowing that these types of things happen to everyone.
All We Can Do Is Approach (11-28-20)
Life is a series of infinitesimal steps toward goals. We might think that the goals are such things as obtaining a job, finding a mate, amassing trendy material goods, and the like. However, scratch the surface and we see that drivers such as those just mask our true aims. What we are really seeking are feelings such as satisfaction, purpose, contentment, joy, purpose, and all the others that make us feel good.
The reality is that such feelings can never be attained completely. We might touch the heights momentarily, but there will always be the pull from the polar opposite and all degrees along the continuum that lurk and intervene as we meander haltingly toward the ends we crave.
We’ve all heard the old adage: two steps forward, one step back. None of us can escape that in our less-than-perfect lives. If it’s any consolation, it is part of the human condition–all of us, not just you.
That shouldn’t stop you from your quest. Use your skills and talents to propel yourself in the direction you want to go. When you hit that roadblock, and you will, work around it, over it, or under it. Rest for a while if you must. Regenerate. Then, forge on. The trick is to continue moving toward your aspiration regardless of setbacks.
During your travels, you might change methods and even goals, but that’s okay. None are carved in stone. You may discover that buying a yacht will not make you any happier than volunteering at the local charity of your choice. The target in this example is happiness or contentment, and they can be pursued through many different paths.
Find the size that fits you. Try not to stray far from the direct path with enticements that hinder rather than help you in your journey. However, if you do wander, just take note of it and push yourself back onto the truest trajectory. You’ll approach closer and closer to what you desire as you travel the right route.
Make Your Bed (11-13-20)
I remember my mother telling me when I was a new bride that to make my house look picked up, even on stressful days with no time for such things, “always make sure that the table is cleared and your bed is made.” I’ve carried that bit of sage, household advice with me down through the decades.
To this day, as soon as I get up in the morning to start my day, the first thing I do is assemble the pillows, sheets, covers, and bedspread into a neat, ready-for-company appearance. I mean I do so before I go to the bathroom, before I have breakfast, before I take a shower–well, maybe after I go to the bathroom, but the point is that I know if I don’t attack that job ASAP, it won’t get done. After all these years, it’s automatic; I don’t even think about it. On the rare occasions when I’m so rushed that I don’t carry out that task first thing, the bed tends to stay unmade all day, just as I knew it would.
So, why is it important in this day of COVID-19 and sheltering-in-place to tidy up your abode? We’re not inviting company inside anyway, so what’s the big deal; no one is going to see it?
The big deal is for our own psychological well-being. Those who live in a disorderly, unkempt manner are more prone to feeling down and depressed. We must do all we can in our isolation to keep our spirits up; we must be self-motivating. Maintaining a routine and having expectations of ourselves helps to that end.
Yes, do it for Numero Uno (practicing my Spanish here). You must work to feel good about yourself and your life. You must survive and thrive in these trying times.
Make a list if it helps so you will remember your daily routine, and follow it! Gather up those clothes strewn around on the floor from the night before, clear the table of yesterday’s dirty dishes, and make your bed rápido! (I'm on an Español roll.) Better yet, don’t leave the mess in the first place. Along with that, clean your house, apartment, trailer, cave, or wherever you reside: vacuum, dust, wash floors and countertops… If it doesn’t improve your mindset, at least it will provide you with a little free exercise.
Thanks, Mom!
Reading Aloud (10-31-20)
My son has been reading bedtime stories to his three children since they were infants. It is still a nighttime tradition even though the kids are now ages thirteen, ten, and seven. The oldest has aged out but still occasionally participates. The middle child is close to being too old, but she hangs on because she knows how much Daddy loves it. And, of course, the youngest continues to be enthralled. It’s their special time with their father which they will remember all their lives.
Reading aloud to others is a beautiful interaction which is enjoyed by each one in the group whether you are the reader or listener. The exclusively auditory experience of hearing a story offers a different sensation than one including visuals and can be just as gratifying; it leaves more to the imagination. Of course, pictures are fun and included in many books, especially those for young children.
An enjoyable grandparent/grandchildren interaction is to read out loud to your grandsons and granddaughters. Then, you can reverse it and be their appreciative audience as they show off their reading skills to you.
Books on tape have become very popular. We can “read” books while we’re driving, falling asleep, or even if we’re visually impaired. We can also partake of the drama as interpreted by the voice actor.
Various religions have ceremonial observances where chosen members of the congregation read aloud in turn as part of the service. Particular times or sections of the text may be recited by the assembly as a group exercise.
Poetry reading is often done verbally for one listener or a roomful. Book authors give talks to promote their latest work, and they usually narrate passages to whet the appetite of prospective buyers.
Play reading clubs and groups have sprung up in recent years. It’s a fun evening at the chosen member’s home with each person vocalizing their part. The act breaks are times for refreshments, often of the pot-luck persuasion.
During this time of Covid 19 and the increase in Zoom use to replace in-person gatherings, my drama club has chosen plays to perform via that online platform. We’re each contained in our small Zoom boxes arranged orderly on the computer monitor. Everyone has a script, and we play our parts with enthusiasm using our acting skills.
Try your hand at reading out loud whether to family members, friends, club attendees or at religious gatherings. It’s a social way to interact in a low cost experience which is mutually satisfying to all.
Patience or the Lack Thereof (10-16-20)
Ah, patience. A little research finds it first mentioned as a virtue (aka moral excellence) by an ancient Roman poet, Aurelius Prudentius Clemens, in the fifth century. Subsequently, others took it up such as in the narrative poem, Piers Plowman, thought to have been written in the 1300s by William Langland. Later that same century, Geoffrey Chaucer in the Canterbury Tales had something to say about it: "Patience is a high virtue... but virtue can hurt you."
Some seem to possess more of it and some less. I don’t think a lot was parceled out to me upon my birth. However, as I age, someone seems to be slowly siphoning off what little I started with.
It’s hard to stand in line for my turn; it’s hard to sit in my car at a traffic signal which never seems to nod in my direction; it’s hard to deal with people who seem to be blabbering inanities. I’ve displayed my askew glare and stomped out of stores where I had to wait my turn in the queue just to ask an employee where to find an item, hustling back to my car and driving home so I could calm down.
Our life has become so complex and so jostled by the sheer number of human beings on the earth that the competition for absolutely everything is intense. Here's a typical scenario that happens on the telephone extrapolated from the earlier brick and mortar example:
You call your target, wade through an interminable menu, and finally speak to a live human, all just to be told that you’re not at the right place whereupon you are transferred elsewhere. Of course, the elsewhere requires another menu, another wait, and yet again another staff member who may pass you off to someone else. This game frequently becomes a cycle where you end up back at the first employee. Truth be told, I'm guilty of the telephone equivalent of the aforementioned "stomping out of the store." I've been known to slam down the proverbial receiver, at least in my head. In reality, I now push the off button on my cell phone extra hard--that'll show 'em!
Is it me or is this one more affliction brought on by the aging process? I envy those who seem to be able to placidly wait their turn. It seems that the delay for so many gratifications in our daily activities has become longer and longer, or is it that I have become more and more impatient? I suspect it’s a combination of both.
Where can I go to get a re-charge of patience? I need more than I have to cope with the reality of today's planet. On the other hand, Chaucer seems to think that particular virtue falls into a category that can be harmful. Maybe he's onto something. Thanks, Geoff. Seems I've been taking care of myself all along.
Coming Out of Your Shell (10-1-20)
Shells are not just for turtles, mollusks, and their brethren to inhabit. Conversely, not only birds, reptiles, and their kin break out of shells. Humans do both, although not with the tangible kind as in the aforementioned examples.
Many people plaster on a false face to conceal their feelings or absence of them. That’s right, we hide in our invisible shells. Fortunately, we can alight from them, also.
When life becomes too much to bear, we find solace in retreating behind a barrier to protect ourselves from further onslaught, pressure, and the other stresses we experience. However, if we continue in that mode for too long, it becomes a lifestyle. In so many cases, we drag such behavior along from childhood when we hadn’t developed the ability to cope with rejection, humiliation, disappointment, distress, and the other pain caused by life’s hardships or fellow humans.
The problem is that once we enter the protective housing created in our minds, it can take years to emerge. Shy, inhibited individuals dream of being able to be forthcoming and take on all challengers rather than slinking away as has been their modus operandi for years. Those who go along to get along struggle to find their voice. Even those who seem so confident and in control strive to let go of that facade and be themselves, if they can figure out what that is.
Shells are neither good nor bad, but they can be constructive or destructive. Make your shell work for you. Be aware of it, and use it in a manner to your benefit. Retreat into it when you need protection and a breather. Cast it off when you feel stronger and can face what life throws your way. The trick is to store your shell in a safe place to pick up or lay down as the need arises.
Just Me and My Bonsai (September 17, 2020)
My cousins, Gail and her husband Paul, visited me some months ago and brought me a lovely bonsai plant as a house gift. You can see my reflection in the window as I’m taking a picture of my new darling after having just given it a haircut. Yes, miscellaneous shoots were breaking out of its manicured silhouette and upsetting the continuity of the design.
Learning to care for this newest edition to my plant housemates has centered my focus. Nothing else can occupy my mind while I’m at my bonsai tasks. (See my blog of April 15, 2019, “Outfoxed by a Plant,” about another of my green, earthbound friends.)
Focusing on anything has that effect. The chosen object of intense immersion can be a pet, another human, a hobby, writing a book, painting a picture, or anything else that occupies you completely. It forces you to concentrate for that block of time on only one thing, holding back all the other stimuli of the world vying for your time. Multi-tasking can be kept at bay for a little longer.
In the case the flora of the earth, the study and care of them is a therapeutic endeavor. Many people find gardening to be calming and healing. If you have the space for it, you might try planting a variety of vegetables, flowers, and other plants that you enjoy. The act of tilling the soil, mixing in the fertilizer, laying down the seeds or saplings, weeding, watering, harvesting, and all the rest can be consuming yet enjoyable.
When small sprouts start to shoot up, there’s a sense of fulfillment in having contributed to the birth of a living thing. Consuming your own veggie efforts or serving them to friends makes you a fertility god or goddess, partaking in and offering nature’s bounty. My friend, Jane, often shares the yield from her garden plot with those she encounters including service personnel in the retirement community where we both live. The trunk of her car contains numerous bags for the offerings along with her gardening tools–always ready just in case.
Getting involved with plants can be as simple and inexpensive as a small pot on your table or window sill containing a cutting from a friend’s plant. You can graduate to more complex dealings if you wish–maybe even planting, training, and caring for a bonsai.
Try developing your own “green thumb.” It can be a gratifying pursuit, which will bring you satisfaction and offer a periodic respite from more demanding concerns.
Too Many Decisions (September 3, 2020)
Our lives have become constrained by too many decisions we are called upon to make every day just to get through it. It encompasses everything from what to eat for breakfast to what to put on for bed. That, of course, spills over outside of the home.
Life didn’t used to be this complicated. When you wanted to buy something, there were usually one or two choices, maybe three. Now, there are dozens, each with its own features.
When we want to buy a car, we need to consider so many bells and whistles that come or do not come with it. It seems that these days we must decide whether to have our air conditioned just so; our derriere warmed by the seat; our music delivered by various means; our roof able to admit fresh air, sunlight, or none of these; our…
When I last went grocery shopping, product labels demanded constant adjudications from me: low-fat, low sugar, no artificial sweetener, yes artificial sweetener, low sodium, organic, and on and on. The meat, produce, dairy, bakery, and household sections were just as bad.
“I don’t care,” I screamed back. “Just give me a jar of mayonnaise!”
I was wasted by the time I arrived at the checkout stand. I perked up when I saw my favorite box boy, a sweet, young man who had been working there for years.
“Hi Chad,” I greeted him.
He smiled and responded, “paper or plastic.” That was the last straw! I considered jumping ten feet in the air and landing on his throat but was constrained by my decades of socially acceptable behavior training. After all, those three words made up the bulk of his on-the-job conversation. Who was I to interfere with his brief moment of importance? So, I gave Chad a pass.
I need a fairy god-decider in my life. However, I know such a wish is fraught with potential problems; my official decider could become an authoritarian and morph into my fairy god-dictator. No, I don’t want that. What I want is a decider who will decide for me when I decide I want him to decide, and who will melt into the background when I decide that, also. If such a being or spirit exists, I’m unaware of it. Looks like I’ll just have to do it myself, like usual. But, right now, I need a nap–groan.
A Reason to Be Alive (August 20, 2020)
What is your reason to be alive? We all need one. It’s what motivates us to keep going, even when we’re down, depressed, and life is just a bummer.
Think about the reasons that are significant in your life to make you want to keep going. Are you a member of a family to which you contribute emotionally, psychologically, financially, or in a myriad of other ways? Are you part of a community to which you offer your time and effort? Do you create in some manner that benefits society as a whole such as art or writing to name a few from a long list?
Some years ago, a friend became suicidal, convinced that she was worthless. Her family, concerned for her welfare, arranged a psychological intervention facilitated by a therapist. With their loved one present, each gave a speech as to how she had impacted and enhanced their life. It was a very positive and powerful event and was successful in its goal. The beneficiary is functioning today as a respected member of her town.
“It’s a Wonderful Life,” a movie made in 1946, is traditionally shown on television every year around the winter holiday season. The plotline follows a man who feels overwhelmed with his responsibilities and obligations. After working for many years at a job he dislikes and which caused him to give up his dreams for the sake of his family and community, he has become discouraged and is contemplating suicide. An angel shows him how the town and its people would have turned out if he’d never been born, and he comes to realize that he has meant a lot to so many.
We probably won’t have an angel to point out our meaningful acts. Be your own angel and give some careful thought to that consideration. Almost everyone has someone or many ones who would mourn us if we died or would be lacking if we hadn’t been born. Each of us does make an impact.
Take an accounting of what you’ve contributed. Are there friends, family members, peers and such who value you? Can you allow yourself to accept that you have merit?
Minis and Me (August 6, 2020)
About eight years ago, I decided I needed more horses in my life, although I’d never had much to do with them. I remember a few times as a girl going to a stable and riding a horse, hanging onto the saddle horn for dear life. When I reached seniorhood, I realized so many members of the equine persuasion are calm, gentle, and take life as it comes. I definitely wanted more involvement with that description and philosophy.
I began going with a like-minded friend to a local stable where we rented horses and rode on wilderness trails led by a guide. My brand of horseback riding was a lot closer to horseback walking, but hey, I was sitting on top with no mishaps requiring stitches or splints and moving forward on a magnificent beast in pristine nature. What more could I want?
Since my revelation, I have vacationed twice at dude ranches, the first in Montana and then in Wyoming, where horseback riding was one of the main activities. (See my blog post about that experience: "Meandering" https://https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2015/09//2015/09/.) At the latter, I ventured out on my assigned steed, Bacon, twice a day for seven days in a row, about three hours each stint. I couldn’t seem to get enough.
In the last several years, my access to horses has dropped way off. Recently, I heard about a volunteer opportunity to help feed two mini-horses. Wow, would someone really let me do that? I grabbed my phone and dialed the magic number.
"Oh, thanks for calling. Yes, we definitely need help. I’ll meet you at the paddock this afternoon at 4:00 pm and show you the routine," said the respondent on the other end of the line.
I set three alarms to remind me of the appointment lest I become engrossed in something and forget, which I've been known to do these days. I arrived at the agreed upon location at 3:45 pm.
I met the horsewoman who introduced me to Buzz and Spot, ages 15 and 16 years respectively, each weighing in at around 160 pounds. They were too cute! Buzz was brown, and Spot was--well, spotted, of course. Each stood about as high as my waist. They were as curious about me as I was about them. Both approached to check me out, and Spot was gracious enough to sniff my hand and give me his approval. Yes, he would allow me to minister to him.
Google provided me with a primer about miniature horses: they are no taller than 38 inches and have a variety of coat colors and patterns. They are gentle (my kind of horse), easily trained, and can pull up to four times their own weight. Minis are descended from Shetland ponies, a breed originating in the Shetland Isles off northern Scotland. They were first developed in Europe in the 1600s and are the result of selective breeding over the centuries. They were often the pets of royalty and were used in coal mines in both Europe and the United States until the mid 1900s.
I’m stimulated by my new volunteer job as a mini-horse wrangler, and I consider it a privilege to be around such special animals. Even during COVID-19, we can find things that delight us. Check out opportunities as you stumble upon them. Better yet, figure out an enticing pastime for yourself, seek it out, and get involved. Grab something fulfilling and wrangle it into your life.
How to Look at a Tree (July 23, 2020)
Recipes give us instructions: do this or do that. They are most often thought of as dealing with food preparation: measure, add, mix, beat, pour, bake, etc. When you’re done, you have a creation that nourishes the body. I’ve printed such an offering in this forum before. (See my blog post of December 22, 2014: What Do You Do When the Happy Holidays Aren’t So Happy?) However, today’s entry is to nourish the soul.
During COVID-19 where our activities have been significantly curtailed, we should spend more time surveying nature to pump up our emotional well-being. So, I’m going to give you a recipe on how to really look at a tree. Although recipes use the command form of verbs, my commands are merely suggestions. Try them out if you wish or ignore them at your loss.
Pick any tree wherever you are. Slowly scan it up and down. Notice the symmetry, the irregularities, the trunk and branches, the leaves or lack of them. What are the characteristics that makes this tree different from any other tree? Is it healthy and vibrant or sickly and withering? Watch the effect of the wind on your tree. Are the branches still or bobbing up and down; are the leaves rustling gently or thrashing wildly?
What color is the trunk: brown, tan, green, gray or alabaster? Is the surface flat, knobby, ridged, striated or dappled? Does it have galls: abnormal growths from its reaction to parasites? What does the bark look like? Is it straight and even or twisted and gnarly, tight or peeling off?
Do the branches begin closer to the ground or higher up on the tree? How far out do they extend? Does the tree have flowers? What size, shape, pigmentation, and scent describe them? What kind of fruit does it produce–something edible for humans or animals, a complex cone, or a puny pod only suitable to house seeds for future generations?
Examine the leaves carefully–notice their form, texture and hue. They might be long needles, wide plates, or all sorts in-between. Are they uniform or rough? Are their edges continuous or undulating with peaks and valleys? Are they large, small, rounded, pointed, a single configuration, or complex and fern-like? Are the colors the green of spring; the reds, yellows, and oranges of autumn; or the brown of decay?
Move your eyes to the top. Bore deeply into the canopy. What is hiding in the tree? Are airborne dwellers flying to and fro or landing on branches or nests? Some dress up in colorful costumes that delight. Are squirrels working the trunk and its extensions? Is a neighbor’s cat peering at you from on high? Is the kid from across the street nestled in a fork, legs dangling on either side?
It’s okay to get up close and personal with your tree. Touching is allowed and even hugging if you’re so disposed. What is the sensation on your fingertips or cheek–rough, smooth, or somewhere in-between? Feel the leaves; do they prick you or are they friendly?
Use your other senses. Listen for a moment. Do you hear the birds you spotted? What do they sound like? Pay attention to their different colors, sizes, beaks, and calls. Maybe you can only experience them auditorily; they can be elusive, hiding from all creatures including the human kind. What is the smell you’re experiencing? Trees such as pine let you know you’re near through their spirited scent even before you see them.
Trees are your friends. Get lost in your new friends. Marvel at the wonder of them. During coronavirus days, trees can provide you with hours of free entertainment not to mention shade. Study them carefully as you stroll around your community or from your window while huddling inside staying safe and alive.
Bargaining during a Pandemic (July 9, 2020)
At the beginning of the current shelter-in-place lifestyle, some coveted items became inordinately expensive and hard to find. Who would’ve thought that the dilemma of how to wipe one’s (fill in the blank) would become a major focus during lockdown time? A few months ago, my son saw a sign in a window on the block where he lives: "Toilet Paper for Sale"
single ply: $10 per roll
double ply: $20 per roll
I heard about a store that had been enticing shoppers with the promise of a free roll of toilet paper with every purchase over $50. However, they failed to specify if it was single or double ply—an important tidbit to know for the potential resale market. Regardless of the TP issue, good deals are still to be had during this twilight zone in which we find ourselves.
Don’t let your bargaining chops become extinct just because you’re stuck in the house for months on end. Several weeks ago, my old dryer died (FYI not from the COVID-19 virus, in case you were wondering), and I had to buy a new one. I jumped on Google to search for dryers in various stories, honing in on a selection that would best suit my needs. I finally decided on an appropriate candidate from Best Buy.
I called and spoke to a staff member who told me that particular model was out of stock. The next model up was an additional $150.
“But Friedman's Appliances is selling that same deluxe model for only $499,” I informed him from my extensive research.
“OK, we can match that,” he acquiesced without a moment's delay.
With a groan, the sluggish gears in my mind started rotating.
“You know, usually when a customer finds a better price at another store, the first store will not only meet that price but will also take an additional ten percent off.”
My adversary laughed.
“I’ll tell you what. We'll include hauling your old dryer away for free, and we'll throw in the auxiliary kit (connection hose and a few other necessaries) for free, too.”
Well, I grabbed that deal. I mean, even Friedman's wasn’t offering those perks.
Yes, your old talents may seem rusty from lack of use. However, it’s like riding a bicycle or (fill in the blank) when you haven’t done it in years. The skill is only lying dormant waiting for you to pick it right back up.
Zoom Nightmares (June 25, 2020)
I've been having Zoom nightmares. They're not the waking up screaming kind. They're the waking up wrung out kind. I'm right back to the type of anxiety dreams I had in college. A recurring one was having to take a final exam only to find I couldn't locate the place where it was being held. Running between rows of buildings, up and down staircases, and in and out of rooms with time ticking away, I'd wake up agitated and distraught. Of course, I was unable to fall back to sleep
Today, during our Covid 19, shelter-in-place way of life, many of us have discovered online conferencing sites such as Zoom. We're using them as a way to connect socially while we are sequestered in our homes. I wrote about it recently (see my blog dated May 13, 2020, "Lockdown Fatigue.") At that time, I was thick into Zoom, attending some meetings by invitation and hosting others after studying tutorials on how to do so. Some attendees to my meetings gave me labels: Zoom Czar, Zoom Zombie, or Boomer Zoomer.
It got to the point where I had to keep a detailed calendar of my Zoom meetings along with notes pertaining to each one. Every morning, I perused the appropriate page, preparing myself for my upcoming Zoom day.
Then it happened: I forgot to attend a meeting I was hosting. It just slipped my mind. I apologized to the other group members when I finally realized it and logged on a half hour late. Everyone was very forgiving, but I still beat myself up.
So, I started leaving notes around the house in the morning to remind me of the Zoom meetings I had scheduled for that day. There were post-its stuck to my computer screen, a scratch paper note on the table where I ate meals, and missives in other places I might stroll by during the intervening time.
One day, I logged into a Zoom meeting I had set up, and no one else joined me. I started getting emails and phone calls from members who couldn't access the meeting with the information I had sent them. As the clock was running down on our allotted time and I was getting more and more stressed out, I deleted the scheduled meeting, created a new one, and emailed the invitation to the participants. Twenty minutes into the session, we all finally appeared in Zoom's little screen boxes ready to boogie. Again I was contrite and again was forgiven.
It seems I'm not the only one who is struggling with Zoom commitments and responsibilities. I heard about another stumbler who was supposed to teach a class on Zoom, for pay, and forgot to show up. My lapses paled in comparison.
The sad truth is that Zoom is failing me. Its attendant anxiety is affecting my sleep quality. I can't seem to handle the emotional pressure this virtual taskmaster is putting on me. I need a vacation from Zoom! I'll have to seek another go-to activity to occupy my hours and hours of quarantine time--sigh.
Under the Covers (June 11, 2020)
In this time of Covid 19, shelter in place, rising unemployment, and social unrest, it’s easy to get into the habit of staying indoors for long periods of time. However, such behavior becomes isolating. We humans are symbiotic creatures and need the stimulation of others. Real time connectivity with folks is gratifying.
Yes, we can chat and see one another via technology using websites such as Zoom, Skype, and more. However, they can’t replace close, personal contact. There is just something about being together in actual proximity which nourishes and nurtures.
Some devolve into escaping under the covers. A variation of that is delaying or even forgoing personal hygiene and opting to pad around the house all day in pajamas, nightgown, underwear, or whatever you wear or don’t wear to sleep in. Maybe you begin to let the dirty dishes and laundry pile up and generally start to neglect basic household chores.
That is not the best course of action for optimum, mental well-being. It can lead to depression. Maintaining our usual routine as much as possible such as getting dressed in street clothing alters our mindset. It enables us to segue seamlessly from rest mode to action mode.
I remember the adjustment I had to make decades ago when I began a special telecommuting program of working at home with a computer just at the threshold of what is now a way of life on a part-time or full time basis for almost half of American workers. Those first few weeks before I got my groove, I would open my computer prior to changing into daytime clothing only to find myself hours later with eyes glued to the screen still wearing a robe and pj’s. One telecommuting co-worker actually used to get dressed and walk out of the front door as though on his way to the office. He would stroll around the block and return to his home to commence his job, but his perspective had changed.
During this time of multiple crises with their resultant additional hours of within-four-walls, solitary time, we must try to maintain some semblance of normalcy. So, get up at a reasonable hour, make your bed, bathe/shave/brush, get dressed as though you are going out and about, and actually do so for exercise and a change of focus. It will perk up your spirits and help you to weather this strange time we’re currently living in.
Missing the Little Things (May 27, 2020)
There are so many things I miss in this time of lockdown over Covid 19 concerns. Being inside for hours and days at a time is getting old. Yes, we're all getting crabby, irritable, and downright testy. We want to go out and about, further than permitted by walks or other means of bodily transportation (bicycles, skateboards, golf carts, or--yikes--cars) limited to minimal distances abutting our own abodes. We want to travel to distant lands, domestic or international, in the flesh, not as armchair adventurers. We want to connect with our loved ones in person, not virtually.
I miss hugging my son. Pre-coronavirus, he used to visit me each weekend for our alone time apart from his wife and children (my adorable grandchildren). Since the shelter-in-place order, we'd been limited to telephone and FaceTime connection. Interaction via technology is fine temporarily but doesn't hack it in the long run. I miss hanging out with him in person.
"Maybe you could come over, and we'll sit outside six feet or even ten feet apart and just chat. We can wear masks, too."
"Mom, I could be a carrier without even knowing it. I'd never forgive myself if I passed the virus onto you."
Son finally hit upon an idea which we've tried out a few times with success. He sits outside on my patio next to my sliding glass doors. I sit in the house on the other side of said doors, and we're able to look at each other. As the doors have to remain shut to act as a virus barrier, it cuts down on auditory communication. So, we talk to each other on our telephones in place of shouting. We press palms together with the glass in between, like an inmate and visitor in jail. Hey, at this stage, I'll take whatever I can get. At least it's great material for a blog.
I've been ordering my food from online delivery services, adhering to the entreaties of my son to stay home. Now, I salivate when I think of going to the market to purchase sustenance. What used to be a chore has turned into a coveted dream. I envy my friends who make forays to the grocery store.
I long to push a shopping cart down those interminable aisles; compare prices of different brands; and test the weight of two pieces of produce, one in each hand, pondering which is heaviest and the better deal if they are priced by the piece, bunch, package, carton... I yearn to hunt for hidden dents in cans; inspect bananas for bruises; toss my own cloth bags onto the checkout conveyor belt to avoid bag charges and contribute to saving trees; and eye the cash register for inaccuracies.
Ah, the little things. How I miss them.
Lockdown Fatigue (May 13, 2020)
In this time of sequestering, some are bored and others are inventive. I was out and about on my daily walk in my retirement community--masked and six feet apart from others, of course--and came upon some folks with innovative ideas of what to do during this strange time of social distancing, hyper-sanitizing, and lockdowns.
A woman was exercising to her reflection in the glass entry doors of a now closed meeting center. What a neat way to stay in shape--fun, cheap, and creative.
I continued on and came upon a man practicing fly fishing on the lawn near a recreation area. He was getting some sun, some exercise, and some practice for when he can return to his hobby.
Others cloister inside their homes, complaining to whomever will listen about their exasperation and bad fortune. Yes, that's one method of coping. I'm guessing it's the path those folks have taken for a long time, probably honed over decades.
To tell you the truth, the rest of us don't want to hear it. It is hard enough to remain upbeat and positive during these stressful times living in our strange new world alongside a raging coronavirus. We're all tired of sheltering in place, and it's nerve-racking for everyone trying to figure out where the culprit is hiding, how to avoid it, and methods to slay it. However, some of us are trying hard to keep going--trying to make the best of it and to survive. Excessive bellyaching only pulls us down with you.
Find something that you can share with your community instead of wasting your time griping. One friend is sewing masks which she gives away. Another takes beautiful photographs of plants and animals around the neighborhood and emails them to everyone she knows. Still another is taking food orders from those in her circle, ordering online for home delivery, and notifying everyone when to pick up their purchases from her garage. I am organizing Zoom get-togethers and parties.
Zoom has become the go-to, online, meeting forum. I bit the bullet, hunkered down in front of my computer, and read one tutorial after another to learn how to use it. Then, I enlisted others in my sphere of friends and class members as practice partners to try it out and improve my skills.
I've been facilitating groups on Zoom to share stories, anecdotes, passages from books, and various topics of interest. I've, also, been attending clubs and classes that formerly met in-person which are now meeting on Zoom. If you're not adept with the computer, then scout around and find someone who is so you can become a "guest" in their Zoom meeting rather than a "host" as I am. You don't even need a computer; you can participate in a Zoom meeting by just talking on your telephone.
One thing that might help to buoy your spirits is to really accept our current state but trust that it will end and we'll get back to some sort of normal. It may not be the normal we were used to just a few months ago, but probably a vaccine or treatment will be developed eventually or Covid 19 will play itself out with a reduced herd of susceptible victims, and we'll be able to come out of hibernation. In the meantime, figure out a way to adapt. It can be done.
The Olden Days (April 29, 2020)
I was going through my credit card statement from a few months ago and matching my receipts against the entries. Many were from restaurants I frequented, stores I depended upon, and movies and theaters I attended. How long ago that life seems now.
I took those things for granted. I never thought twice or thrice about making plans with friends to dine out. We all had our favs, and it was fun to organize a get-together in one of them.
I love theater and often attend, but usually it doesn’t average more than once a month or longer. My credit card statement reminded me that because of conflicting dates, I ended up attending plays at two different theaters with the same friend just one week apart. Oh well, we had decided to go for it as we were hot to see both performances.
That was before anyone suspected that our collective lives would change abruptly from free ranging spirits to inmates of our abodes with an indeterminate sentence. Yes, restaurants, theater and movie attendance, and shopping except for food and medicine have become the olden days. We usually think of such times with affection and nostalgia as a memory of long ago when life was better. With the speed that things are changing in the eye of the Covid 19 hurricane, even yesterday was the olden days.
Will we ever get back to those times we reminisce about so fondly? Maybe, but they will probably look different. Restaurants, theaters, ride-sharing services and the like that were our staples may have gone out of business for lack of customers to sustain the thin margins they depended upon to survive.
Virtual services and contacts have increased in popularity since our quarantine way of life began. Websites such as Zoom at least allow us to meet online and interact to a degree. Missing from such electronic interfaces are hugs, kisses, pats on the back, and handshakes. Such human contact is vital for our well-being. Our sense of touch needs stimulation to help keep us healthy. I’ve written before in this forum about the importance of touch. Click here (and scroll down) to read my blog: “The Power of Touch,” dated February 4, 2016; and here to read “Hugs,” dated February 17, 2018.
We must do our part to vanquish this coronavirus. The faster we slay it as a group, the sooner we’ll be back to the gratifying, real contact, not the virtual kind.
Irises and Viruses (April 15, 2020)
Mother Nature has powers that people can only dream about. She may create exquisite beauty in the form of an iris or rain down havoc as the world's creatures huddle in fear of the viruses she slings.
With all our war weapons, economic manipulations, and every other form of control that mankind has developed to hobble enemies, it pails by orders of magnitude to the sorcery Mother Nature can work. At times such as these as we face a threat to millions, we are humbled in the face of such dominion.
MN has currently unleashed the coronavirus to thin the herd. There are simply too many of us to be sustained by the earth's resources. We humans are befouling nature, contributing to global warming, causing extinction of other species, blowing each other up, and generally striving to realize our collective demise.
Will we forget today's lessons as soon as things are back to "normal"? Will we resume squabbling with each other? Or, can our current crisis teach us anything? If history is an example, the answer is likely "no." If we look back on the great global tragedies of the centuries: wars, famine, natural disasters, and pandemics, we see that subsequent generations do forget, deny, or ignore.
Why are humans like that? Must the most twisted of us always rise to the top to lead us over the edge of the cliff? Is it in our nature to always devolve into a "Lord of the Flies" mentality?
Of course, today's Covid 19 crisis could have been lessened to a significant degree by advanced planning, early action, and quick response. None of those things have happened to a sufficient enough degree to forestall the severity which is only increasing.
What can we do? Each of us is only one tiny cog in a sea of over seven billion of our kind. Are we completely powerless? No. We must do our part. Don't go out and about other than for essential services. Partying with friends is not in that category. Stay at home even if you are bored, feel fine, figure it can't happen to you, or are sure you won't pass the virus along to others. You are not special, privileged or entitled to ignore the recommendation of experts on how we should proceed as a herd to defeat or at least lesson this viral infliction.
Think as the hunters and gatherers did when they lived off the land and made do with what they had. A few weeks ago, I read a story about a young mother who was panicky because her store had sold out of disposable diapers. Now is the time for adaptation and problem solving, folks, not whining. To that puzzled mother: rip up old sheets or towels and use them as diapers fastened with safety pins rather than peel and stick tabs. Then, rewash them just as your grandmother did before the invention of the disposable type--amazing!
Count yourself lucky to live in a first world country with resources to attack this crisis, and do your part to assist.
Out and About in the Time of Covid 19 (March 31, 2020)
We're in the midst of a mandate to shelter in place issued by our California governor. It's an attempt to cripple the spread of the coronavirus gripping the world and increasing rapidly in my state. I'm trying to do my part, especially since I'm in a highly vulnerable category, age wise. I don't feel vulnerable; I'm energetic and in good physical condition. However, Gov and my son don't agree with me.
"Stay inside, Mom," --my son's constant refrain.
"But, I'll just visit some friends, and I promise we'll stay outside and stand six feet apart."
"Gawd, you're killing me, Mom."
So, in the spirit of not wanting to add to my son's stress over concern for himself and his wife and children (my adorable grandchildren), I'm sheltering in place. Today, after four days inside of my walls which I'm crawling by now, I decided to go for a solo hike in a patch of wilderness that borders my retirement community.
I meandered an isolated route to my destination, careful to avoid other signs of animal life, human or otherwise. Soon, I happened upon some marvelous bits of nature I'm usually too busy to pay much attention to. A cluster of large mushrooms was growing out of an old root which had broken the surface of the ground. How strange and fascinating they were.
As I traversed a dirt path, I looked down at my feet and discovered a sprinkling of that ubiquitous genus: little purple flower. How perky they looked against the hardscrabble ground.
Something moved. What was it? I stared and was stared at in return. Two deer were hunkered down in the shade under a majestic oak tree, ears perked up, on guard lest I proved to be an enemy and they had to make a quick get-away.
“Hey guys, I’m harmless."
That didn’t seem to cut it. They remained steadfast, eyeing me carefully as I continued my ascent. I don’t blame them. In these trying times, who knows whom to trust.
More climbing, and I was getting winded. Never mind, it felt great to be outside in a pristine, undeveloped chunk of the world, no one else around, no sounds to distract me.
I crested the hill and came upon another shock of color--orange this time. Spring is here a riot of wild poppies insisted.
I dawdled, not wanting to return to the real world with its surreal dysfunction. Will we ever get through this? I must remember what a famous man once said: "This, too, shall pass." One final mantra to keep in mind which has served so many to cope with the demons that drive and control them: "One day at a time."
Living in a World on Lockdown (March 16, 2020)
These are stressful times; we are all sheltering in place to one degree or another. So many businesses have closed down that there’s no place to go, even if we wanted to. People are frightened of the unknown and don’t know what to do. Some are hoarding supplies “just in case.” Others are thinking about how to “get out of Dodge,” but there’s no place to run.
We top-of-the-heap humans are being bested by a microscopic, biological agent which has knocked us to our knees: a coronavirus labeled Covid 19. Viruses, those little devils, consist of molecules including proteins, nucleic acids, lipids, and carbohydrates, and are not considered to be alive as they can’t survive on their own. They must enter a living cell of a host in order to be able to multiply. Once inside, they go on to rapidly produce thousands of identical copies of themselves, causing various significant diseases in living things: humans, animals, and plants.
So, what can we do to cope with something as amorphous and seemingly beyond our control as a virus? Can we still find some joy, excitement, and purpose in the current, distressing epoch? Of course we can.
The first thing is to follow the sensible advice of the major health organizations such as frequent hand washing, avoidance of large gatherings of people, and covering our coughs and sneezes to protect others. Then, we must continue with our lives instead of stressing about the “what ifs” we can’t control.
Keep the current situation in perspective. Circumstances are unpredictable in the future, but that usually doesn’t stop us from moving forward. We could fixate on potential events such as taking a fall; being in an automobile accident; and on and on which would turn us all into agoraphobics if we let them. Instead, most of us walk carefully and maybe use an assistive device such as a cane or walker to lessen the chance of falling; we still drive or ride in cars, but with caution.
Grappling with the Covid 19 virus should be no different. Exercise the recommended precautions and continue with your life with a few adjustments. For example, you might spend more time outside in nature instead of inside as part of a large crowd. If you don’t have access to sprawling, wilderness areas, go outdoors and look around. Marvel at the living dinosaurs still among us called birds. How often have you really studied the trees, bushes, and flowers in your own neighborhood? Even a simple dandelion is beautiful poking out of a crack in the concrete or sprouting from a lawn.
Take this time of isolation to enjoy the books and videos that are piling up, clean out the closets, repair clothing and other possessions, make important phone calls, and tackle the myriad other things you can add to the list. Make this and any time productive and uplifting, and follow the old adage: “turn a lemon into lemonade.”
Widgets for Sale (March 2, 2020)
Commerce has one goal--to sell its product. That is what advertising is all about. Unfortunately, it will use any means to make that goal a reality, including propaganda and appeals to our insecurities. The latter sends the message: be dissatisfied with what you are so you will buy my widget to fix it.
Let’s take for example the pathological focus on being young. There are huge amounts of advertising and products devoted to that end.
Someone sitting in a back room thinking about how to maximize profits figured out that aging is as inevitable as those old standbys: death and taxes, and it provides a steady, growing market. So, if youth is peddled to older folks as a must-have, then those in the "youth-business" can hawk their products to drive that dream. First they must create the idea that being young is the ideal and being old is bad: we are not attractive, desirable, or worthy unless we look young, dress young, and act young, emulating the models in the ads that they bombard us with all our waking hours. Their subliminal message: my widget will set you on the road to the Fountain of Youth which is the key to happiness, and it only costs $$$.
It's our own fault that we buy into this scam and blindly accept an artificially created reverence to youth which we feel we must chase at all costs. Do we even question such a postulate which is constantly being crammed down our collective gullets? Do we even ask ourselves, What’s so wonderful about being young? When is it okay to be okay about myself?
In a recent interview, 82-year-old actress Jane Fonda discussed her insecurities and admitted that self-acceptance has been difficult for her to this day. She claims that she has now sworn off cosmetic surgery which has been a part of her life for many years. How can a beautiful, successful, accomplished actress have such negative feelings about herself?
I remember my youth and especially my teenage years as a time of my life that was fraught with self-doubt, insecurity, and discontentment. True happiness and gratification have slowly crept up and grabbed me as I’ve aged. I can now look back at my "youth" and wave a fond farewell to a difficult chunk of time.
One of my blog readers emailed me some lines from a poem by the 14th century, Persian poet Hafez which should be savored like a cozy robe: "The way-station of old age is one to pass cleanly. Don't let the urgencies of youth stain the whiteness of your hair."
Tribal Elders (February 17, 2020)
What does it mean to be a tribal elder? Today, we call them senior citizens. However, they are the same block of people–the long-lived inhabitants of a society. If we examine primitive tribes from civilizations past, and even those still existing, we see that it was the older members who were revered and sought after for advice and words of wisdom as to how to comport oneself and thrive. Why is that?
The answer is simple yet complex. As we age, we amass more and more life experiences. Human beings use their resultant skills to inform future behavior. Insight and judgment are part of the stew: if we burn our hand on the stove, we learn not to put it there again.
Once folks have accumulated enough general proficiency, most become wise. Wisdom, of course, takes many forms and passes through the filter of the individual and their unique life experiences. Nevertheless, on certain basic issues, those paths often lead to similar endings.
Seniors are all tribal elders. We are cast into that role by the passage of time, whether we like it or not. We have a responsibility to generations that come after us to hold our role sacred and fulfill it to the best of our ability. Petty things like personal interest or bias may blemish the advice of some tribal elders, and their consensus may skew in the direction of one extreme or another at any given time. However, the group dynamic in most cases functions to hold those members at bay, discouraging their views from being adopted as the long-term norm.
It is the group function that seems to be the most successful at arriving at the best decision. We see this concept in court trials, corporate board meetings, the U.S. Congress, and throughout all walks of life, big and small. The group process is the best hope for how to proceed wisely, and tribal elders are the repository of experience to direct that process. So, if you are a senescent society member, tread carefully. Your words and actions are not just for your benefit, but also for those who follow.
The Menu (February 3, 2020)
It was only supposed to be a fun gathering at my place. I had recently moved to a new condo four hundred miles from my longtime home to live closer to family members. I decided to have them over for dinner to show off my new digs.
I sent out the email invitation to about a dozen recipients. Without a thought, I added a line at the last minute: let me know if you have any food issues. Wrong! Close to half had considerations of one type or another dealing with what they were or were not willing to ingest.
I kept thinking up dish after dish, only to discard it when I realized that my son, granddaughter, cousin, cousin's husband, and a few more wouldn't eat it. I was trolling recipes on the Internet, pondering the matter in the middle of sleepless nights, and generally experiencing a rise in my stress level.
Of course, I'm aware that these many food challenges are spread across the population, not just in my family. However, I don't remember all this stuff when I was younger. Maybe it has to do with bounty and plenty. When food is scarce, you eat what's put in front of you, and you're grateful for it.
My crowd runs the gamut: vegan, vegetarian, lactose intolerant, gluten free, on a diet, red meat averse, Kosher, low salt, low fat, high protein, organic, nut allergies, shellfish issues, pescatarian, heart healthy oils, and the list goes on ad nauseam. There's also the "wine with dinner" matter. I have never acquired a taste for alcohol, so I don't drink any. Truth be told, I don't understand the big fuss about it all: which wine goes with which dish, how to choose it, sniff the cork, the year, the bouquet, the color, the right glass, yadda, yadda, yadda. However, I seem to be a minority of one. So, I just tell my guests to bring whatever wine they want as I'm not serving any, and that I can probably scare up some small glasses and maybe a corkscrew.
As you've probably deduced by now, cooking is not my strong point. To reduce my anxiety, my new motto is to disclose the menu in advance right down to the water I'm serving (tap, filtered, spring, purified, distilled, sparkling, infused--I have a headache).
Although I don't have any food allergies, I do have dislikes. So, don't serve me: lamb, shrimp, sushi, cilantro... Oh, and sorry about my lack of aptitude and flair in the kitchen. However, I really do have other talents.
G'day Mate (January 20, 2020)
We all strive to survive and thrive. We depend on others to help us toward that end; we cannot do it alone. So, we too, must help others, and “others” includes the animals of the world.
Many years ago, I read about a penguin named “Pierre” that was part of a living exhibit at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco, California. For an unknown reason, Pierre lost all of his feathers. He was ostracized by the other penguins, and he couldn’t swim because it was too cold for him. A staff member made Pierre a neoprene suit to protect him, and his feathers eventually grew back. Pierre may not have weathered that trauma without his human benefactor.
Recently, the continent of Australia has been hit with massive wildfires. Believed to be exacerbated by climate change, they are destroying everything in their path. This has included an estimated one billion animals, many unique to Australia. I recently heard about the Australia based “Animal Rescue Craft Guild” that is organizing sewers, knitters, crocheters, and other crafters from around the world to help with this tragedy by making mittens for animals with burnt paws and joey pouches for marsupial baby orphans including kangaroos, possums, koalas and wombats that cannot survive outside of their mother’s pouch. These simple, artificial pouches are crafted from material and protect the life of the undeveloped joey, the marsupial baby, enabling it to flourish until it can live on its own.
Here’s a short primer on the kangaroo joey: when born at about 33 days, it is like an embryo: blind, hairless, and a few centimeters long–the size of a jelly bean. It makes it way from the birth canal to the mother’s pouch by wiggling through her fur. It remains inside the pouch suckling one of four teats which becomes enlarged to hold the joey in place. In about six months, the baby roo starts to make forays outside for short periods of time. It leaves Mom’s comfy digs permanently between eight and eleven months.
If you have needlecrafting skills, how exciting and gratifying it might be to spend a little of your time making an item to enhance the welfare of Australia’s distinctive animals which have been injured and rendered homeless by the relentless fires of 2020. This could also be a fun project to do with your grandchildren, or for them to do on their own. Google “instructions for marsupial pouches” or “instructions for mittens for koalas” to access YouTube videos to teach you how to make these items correctly. When you’re finished, google topics like “how to donate pouches and mittens for fire animal victims in Australia” or go to the Facebook page of “Animal Rescue Craft Guild” for information on where to send them.
If you’re not needlecraft talented yourself, do as I’m doing with this post and pass along the message to those in your sphere who are. No matter your abilities or lack thereof, you too can be a link in the chain to make this happen.
Noise Pollution (January 6, 2020)
Is it me, or has the noise level in our environment risen sharply? To my mind, noise has reached pollution levels, like being enveloped in a constant foghorn. I can’t seem to walk into any establishment these days where I’m not hit broadside by the noise level inside.
To add to what might be a normal degree in a building filled with humans, the proprietors of many locations seem to feel that adding to the racket will help their business. So, they pipe in music which just increases the pollution. Then, to add insult to injury, they ramp up said chords to ridiculous decibels.
This first just occurred in restaurants and bars. Today when you frequent them, screaming to your tablemates just to be able to hear each other is now the norm.
This ambiance has segued to places like food markets, clothing stores, and other commercial businesses open to the public. I don’t know about most folks, but when I enter such a place, I’ll usually do a U-turn and exit from whence I came.
I’ve been known to ask employees to turn down the music. My request usually goes something like: “The music is too loud. My first choice would be for you to turn it off; my second choice to turn it down.” This is usually met with strange stares and some form of resistance. I’m sure that the owners regularly read their “Running a Successful (add any brick and mortar business category)” which tells them that piped in music helps bump up sales. But, putting your customers at the mercy of some radio station playing rap music turned up to assault their eardrums is not what it means, guys.
I don’t know if folks are aware that prolonged exposure to intense noise causes irreversible hearing damage. Those young store clerks and restaurant workers are being harmed permanently! Also, if one goal is to cater to Baby Boomers and seniors (and it should be as we form a huge demographic which spends lots of money), businesspeople ought to be aware that there are more hearing issues and hearing aid use among us, and that the hearing challenged are quite sensitive to intense noise.
We need more quiet in our lives. So, in line with my philosophy that you can’t change other people, you can only change yourself, carry earplugs or earmuffs with you at all times and use them when you are overwhelmed by the ambient clatter. Picture an influx of seniors in earmuffs. That should send the message.
Here we are in the middle of winter which brings with it the coldest iterations of H2O. Burr, we crank up the heaters and pull out turtlenecks, long underwear, gloves, fur lined boots, and extra blankets.
I’ve heard it said that when it rains in New York, people get wet, but when it rains in California people die. East Coast folks usually don’t let a little rain or even snow stop them. We Californians, on the other hand, hole up inside at such weather changes. I, having lived in the “Golden State” since toddlerhood, am just as guilty.
Covid 19 with its new Omicron varient has caused so many to isolate. Now, cold weather just ramps up that choice. Staying at home indoors becomes a habit which is hard to break. We become listless and depressed with such an agoraphobic lifestyle.
When too many days, weeks, or months are less than optimum, many of us can’t seem to adapt. It is disturbing when the status quo is dwindling. We like our comfort zone which is predictable and safe. The reality, however, is that nothing ever stays the same. Life is always changing.
All seasons have their delight. Winter is beautiful if you’re bundled up and comfortable. Skiiers know this and frolic in the snow. Warm and toasty in their ski pants and parkas, they slalom down the mountain, skis parallel for speed or in snowplow position when brakes are needed.
The rider in this photo has turned a power mobility scooter into an all weather vehicle. We can all do something similar to suit our own particular style.
Those who roll or ski with the punches seem to make it through life easier than those who are rigid and fight against change. Flexibility is the key. Tree branches bend in turbulent winds. Structures such as houses are destroyed.
Exchange the cloak of rigidity for a rain cloak. Then, grab an umbrella and go out and about although there’s a shower outside, even if it’s just to your car to drive to another destination. Enjoy nature regardless of its inclemency. Find the beauty in every season, and make it work for you. You will be uplifted and the better for it.
Here we are in the middle of winter which brings with it the coldest iterations of H2O. Brrr, we crank up the heaters and pull out turtlenecks, long underwear, gloves, fur lined boots, and extra blankets.
I’ve heard it said that when it rains in New York, people get wet, but when it rains in California people die. East Coast folks usually don’t let a little rain or even snow stop them. We Californians, on the other hand, hole up inside at such weather changes. I, having lived in the “Golden State” since toddlerhood, am among the guilty.
Covid 19 with its new Omicron variant has caused so many to isolate. Now, cold weather just ramps up that choice. Staying at home indoors becomes a habit which is hard to break. We become listless and depressed with such an agoraphobic lifestyle.
When too many days, weeks, or months are less than optimum, many of us can’t seem to adapt. It is disturbing when the status quo slips away. We like our comfort zone which is predictable and safe. The reality, however, is that nothing ever stays the same. Life is always changing.
All seasons have their delight. Winter is beautiful if you’re bundled up and comfortable. Skiers know this and frolic in the snow. Warm and toasty in their ski pants and parkas, they slalom down the mountain, skis parallel for speed or in snowplow position when brakes are needed.
The rider in this photo has turned a power mobility scooter into an all-weather vehicle. We can all do something similar to suit our own particular style.
Those who roll or ski with the punches seem to make it through life easier than those who are rigid and fight against change. Flexibility is the key. Tree branches bend in turbulent winds. Structures such as houses are destroyed.
Exchange the cloak of rigidity for a rain cloak. Then, grab an umbrella and go out and about although there’s a shower outside, even if it’s just to your car to drive to another destination. Enjoy nature regardless of its inclemency. Find the beauty in every season, and make it work for you. You will be uplifted and the better for it.
Holiday Time with Friends vs. Relatives (12-13-21)
We’ve all heard the expression which dates back to the 12th century: “Blood is thicker than water.” It means that you can always trust and expect loyalty from blood relatives, but not from outsiders. We’ve also heard the polar opposite saying first coined by Harper Lee of “To Kill a Mockingbird” fame that goes something like: “You can choose your friends but not your family.” This means that we pick those we like and feel comfortable with as friends, but we are always bound to blood family no matter how deceitful, duplicitous, or hurtful they may be to us. Occasionally, some rare few can fill both roles.
At this time of year where so many major holidays converge, it’s traditional to gather with family members around the dinner table featuring roasted turkey or goose with all the trimmings. Although the stereotypical event is portrayed in the media as a happy, joyful happening, that’s not always the case.
Maybe the holiday breaking-of-bread includes contrary Grandpa Morris, Great Aunt Lillian whose stories stretch on interminably, Uncle Joe who always tells those off-color jokes that make everyone uncomfortable, perennially pissed-off cousin Ethel, socially inappropriate nephew Sam, or the ever fighting and whinny grandkiddies. Perhaps your daughter/son-in-law manages once again to make that passive-aggressive comment that leaves you reeling. Possibly your own dear progeny devote too much time trying to pry more bucks out of you.
Holidays are artificially created, celebratory days or weeks. Dig a little deeper and you may find commercial interests lurking with their own version of prying more bucks out of you. Yes, from the point of view of those having no family members at all or any nearby with whom to spend the holidays, they may feel always on the outside looking in at a world they can't enter.
Humans experience a sense of warmth and contentment spending time with people who make them feel valued and welcome. Friends may fill that role far better than relatives. If you fall into the category of nose-pressed-against-the-glass at holiday season, don’t forget that those with family members most likely have some relatives they’d never choose as friends.
Have a happy holiday season however you spend it and with whomever you celebrate!
Dominating the Conversation (11-29-21)
Certain larger-than-life types always seem to insert themselves into the center of attention. They get away with it as others are too polite to confront them or don’t want to make a spectacle and ruin the occasion. In social situations, however, everyone should be given the opportunity to shine.
Have you ever been with a group of people where one dominates the conversation? Maybe you’re that person. FYI: That gets old very fast. There’s just a finite amount of floor time, and each one deserves an approximately equal amount of it. When the aggressive personality steals more than their share, that means that the retiring personality sacrifices a portion of theirs. Although it may appear that the latter is listening with rapt attention to the thief, don’t be fooled. They are most likely burning with indignation at having been upstaged yet again.
If you are hogging the limelight, remember that it’s not all about you. You may think your particular story is absolutely fascinating as you wax on and on and on, but the truth is that it becomes far less so the longer you jabber, spilling into someone else’s time allotment.
Certainly tell your story, but learn to edit it toward brevity. I’ll give you an example of a run-on tale to which I was subjected by someone I met many years ago during a casual encounter who didn’t know the art of shutting up as his overly detailed chatter dragged out. I don’t remember the particulars of the story, but the gist of his delivery went something like this:
So, she said, blah blah blah.
Then, I said, blah blah blah.
Then, she said, blah blah blah.
Then, I said, “Oh.”
That last line did it for me. It was totally unnecessary as was much of his content. I politely but swiftly took my leave, being careful not to return to where he was holding court.
Are listeners decamping from your too long, too self-centered stories? If you want them to come back, practice the mechanics of the latest boon to science toward the betterment of our lives: the DNA altering CRISPR gene editing technology: snip snip snip.
Completion of Life ( 11-14-21)
Last month, I attended a meeting of the “Death Café.” The idea originated in 2004 in Switzerland, with the present day model beginning seven years later. Death Cafés have been held all over the world in 66 countries. They enable people to learn about and become familiar with the completion of life. Attendees can discuss their thoughts, their experiences with a loved one, their questions, their fears, and so on. (I’ve written on the subject of death in this forum before. Click here and scroll down to read my blog of 2-4-17 titled, “Your Remains.”)
The meeting started with everyone taking turns discussing why they were there. Some told personal stories of their own illnesses. Some shared anecdotes about their spouse or someone else close to them. Others joked about the subject, maybe to relieve their own discomfort. With a topic so seemingly gloomy, it was strange to see people laugh. When it was my turn,, I said that I did not have any serious, medical conditions or life-threatening illnesses, but that I had thought about death and wanted to learn more about how to handle it and how to help my children deal with it when my time came.
One woman–let’s call her Evelyn–introduced herself and told us that she would be dying in a few weeks. She named a specific date and time. When she stated her name, I realized that I knew her as one of my blog followers. She has periodically responded to my postings with deep and insightful comments.
Evelyn went on to explain that she has incurable brain cancer, and that she has chosen to legally end her life following the protocol of the current law in California where she and I live. The California End of Life Option Act became law in 2016. It allows mentally capable, terminally ill adults who are California residents to obtain lethal drugs from a doctor to self-administer if they qualify. Currently, ten states and the District of Columbia allow it.
I learned that one who has made this decision should carry it out while they are still able to ingest the pills themselves, as no one else is allowed to assist them in doing so. If the subject deteriorates to the point of not being able to take the medication on their own, then medical aid in dying cannot proceed. Evelyn has gotten full approval from her doctor and has been given the pills which she has in a box at her home. The law requires two witnesses to be on hand when she ingests the pills. They will remain with her until she dies, and then they will follow her instructions for disposing of her remains–in this case, the donation of her body for medical research.
Evelyn seemed content and actually ebullient with her decision. She has spent a lot of time thinking about and coming to terms with it. She did not appear depressed or upset in any way. She does not have close family members, but she has informed her friends. She has dealt with bequeathing her property. She has planned her final hours with music she wants played and text she wants read. There is nothing left to handle.
Evelyn was very willing to answer any questions and share her experiences. She appeared joyful and unburdened. Accompanied by a wave of her hand, she ended her talk to the group with, “I’ll see you on the other side.” No one was breathing; everyone was stunned, frozen to their chairs.
Our group leader explained that the appropriate term for Evelyn’s upcoming act is: “medical aid in dying” rather than “assisted suicide.” It is sometimes also called physician assisted death. A quick google search revealed the following definitions:
Assisted Suicide: A person kills him/herself with someone else’s help.
Euthanasia: A person intentionally administers drugs to another person to end the life of the latter. Euthanasia can be
voluntary or involuntary.
Medical Aid in Dying: Without the assistance of others, a person takes a lethal dose of medication obtained from a doctor
for the purpose of ending their life.
As is seen in the aforementioned definitions, the difference hinges on who administers the lethal substance. Although the terms “medical aid in dying” and “assisted suicide” seem to be synonymous, the American Association of Suicidology (AAS) sees them as distinct and no longer recognizes the latter term. Euthanasia is illegal in the United States. Medical aid in dying is legal is some states but not in others.
When the meeting ended, I approached Evelyn and introduced myself.
“Oh, yes, I read your blog all the time.”
She reminded me how we had originally met some years ago. When we finished talking, I didn’t know how to end the conversation. What do you say to someone who has chosen when and how to terminate their life, and it is imminent?
“I wish you the best on your journey,” was what came out.
Evelyn smiled and hugged me as I wiped away my tears. She was comforting me when it should have been the other way around.
Late on the eve of her chosen date, I woke up, my mind filled with Evelyn. I couldn’t go back to sleep and wanted to make some final gesture toward her. We have speech to communicate our thoughts and feelings to others. However, sometimes there are no words sufficient for the task, and we must do the best we can. I settled on sending her an email which said: Goodbye, Evelyn. I’m thinking about you. I didn’t know if she’d even read it, but at least I had reached out. The next morning, an email from her was waiting in my inbox: Goodbye, Lee Gale. I’m looking forward to crossing the rainbow bridge. By the time I read her response, she had already made that passage.
I was deeply moved by Evelyn. Could I do such a thing in a similar circumstance? Would I do it? Dare I do it? I’m grateful that such an option exists for me, just in case.
Evelyn had chosen death on her own terms. She would be spared an agonizing or stuporous end to her life. Her decision enabled her final days to be lighthearted and content. Happy Deathday, Evelyn.
Don't Be a Stick-in-the-Mud (11-1-21)
Last weekend in Northern California where I live, we experienced a day sandwiched by two nights of continuous, torrential rain, or as the evening news informed viewers: a bomb cyclone. That was the backdrop to what turned out to be a seesaw several hours for me starting with opening my front door in the morning to a waterfall downpour, a flooded street, and an equally inundated garage. I wadded through, got into my car, and turned the key–to silence. There was no sound of an engine turning over and no lights on my dashboard–the car was dead. I called the Auto Club (AAA) for a battery charge. Forty-five minutes later, a serviceman arrived.
“It looks like you left your parking lights on and ran down the battery.”
“Of course I didn’t leave my lights on. They’re set to go on and off automatically.”
Then, I remembered that I had been out of town for the previous few days, and while traveling to my destination, I had come upon a stretch of road with signs advising me that headlights were required for the next four miles. It was the middle of the day–bright and sunny, and I had absolutely no idea how to turn on my headlights manually; they only come on when it’s getting dark.
I grabbed at the dial and started turning it, but I couldn’t tell if the lights had come on or not. I tried to re-position the dial where it had started, but maybe I miscalculated. Truth be told, I hate that car manufacturers make my car do my thinking for me. Just give me a knob to pull in and out when I want to turn the headlights on and off. Instead, there is a spinner with five choices indicated by tiny, indecipherable icons, all confusing. At 70 miles per hour, I was in no position to bend over and contemplate little pictures let alone figure out what they meant. It was a barren stretch of highway, and I wasn't about to stop on the shoulder in order to consult the car manual. I drove the four miles sans headlights, hoping I wouldn’t be stopped by the Highway Patrol or kill anyone in my headlightsless state.
The serviceman jumped the battery, and the car came to life. I chose to have him install a new one anyway.
I don’t want this to happen again, I thought.
Well, I was on my way with just a slight setback. I spent the rest of the day with my children and grandchildren laughing, playing board games, and enjoying a wonderful bonding experience.
Later, after everyone left, I was on my way home after doing a few chores. It was still raining bathtubfuls, but I was in full control, or so I thought. I soon realized I was headed in the wrong direction. Instead of using a driveway to enable my correction, I noticed a vacant, unpaved, land parcel on the corner.
Hmmm, I’ll just drive through that lot which will be much easier.
The possible consequences of intense rain didn’t even factor into my thoughts. I was a few feet onto the dirt when my tires began spinning. I put the car into reverse–more spinning. Some nearby residents saw my plight and came running to assist me as the rain pummeled them.
“What did you do, slip off the road?”
“No, I was trying to turn around. Pretty stupid, huh?”
My Good Samaritans brought wooden boards for the car’s wheels. The two of them spent about 20 minutes crouched down in the mud jamming the planks in front of my tires to aid my escape. I stepped on the gas pedal and gunned and gunned, but nothing worked. All my tires did were to dig in deeper.
The only recourse was to call AAA to be towed out. I hadn’t used the services of AAA in about a decade, and now twice in one day–gawd! The first tow truck arrived--a flat bed. With hands on hips, the driver assessed the situation and pronounced that he couldn’t do the job with his rig. He called into dispatch for the right kind of tow and left. Another 45 minutes, and now it was very dark out with no letup in the rain. Finally, a savior arrived with the right vehicle.
“What did you do, slip off the road?”
“Ah, it’s a long story.”
Savior bravely stood in the poorly lit street dressed in a neon rain suit and stopped oncoming traffic from both directions. Then, he hooked up my car to his behemoth vehicle, complete with a forbidding light panel on top, and pulled me out in under a minute. When you’ve got the right tool for the job, anything is possible.
One has several choices with a bummed out day like that. I could let it spoil my warm feelings from the time spent with my family, or I could shrug it off and accept that this too shall pass; I chose the latter. While waiting for the tow truck, I called my son who put the phone on loudspeaker so he and my grandchildren could hear my adventures. They were laughing about Grandma’s debacle, and each had an opinion to offer on the matter–more bonding.
When life hands you mud, make mud pies. That’s what the kids do.
Not Everything Is Everyone's Thing (10-18-21)
Did your parents want you to be a doctor, lawyer, or Indian chief (an expression popularized in the 1940s), and you wanted to be an artist (painter, actor, singer, dancer, musician, and all the rest that fall into that category)? You can substitute a similar scenario with the professions being different or you in the parental role with your own children or grandchildren.
It’s not that the adults are uncaring or insensitive. In the majority of cases, they do have their loved one’s interests at heart. However, the more traditional career choices offer a better shot at security, money, power, and other attributes that seem like they should be the most sought after endgame. Those who opt for the chancier paths might end up starving or pretty close to it.
What about the goal of self-satisfaction? Isn’t that worthwhile? Most artists wouldn’t dream of trading their preference for a tried and true but maybe boring or unstimulating lifestyle. The security they forgo for the chance to express themselves in a manner which brings them joy and fulfillment is a no-brainer. That inner creative is always striving to get out no matter how much it is thwarted.
When another human, regardless of their relationship to you, seems to be moving toward what you consider an inadvisable course but which is obviously their passion, how about offering encouragement and support rather than dismissal and put downs? The latter approach may force them to become a D, L, or IC but at what expense? They might spend the rest of their life discontented, pining for the dream they never followed, and resentful of you.
The amassing of more and more money and power is not the Holy Grail as too many believe. As long as one has enough to feed and shelter themselves, pursuing their ideal trajectory may be enough for them. Yes, the parental figure may have acquired the fancy house with all the state-of-the-art appointments and accompanying toys, but who is really more content?
Years ago, I read that the difference in happiness between someone who earns $5,000 and $50,000 per year is significant because the lower earner is without basic necessities. However, the difference in happiness between someone earning $50,000 and $50,000,000 is non-existent. The numbers may have bumped up proportionally due to inflation, but the concept remains valid.
Rejoice in your loved one’s lifestyle decision. Respect them as the person they are. Admire them for living the life that works for them.
The Affliction of Perfection (10-4-21)
So many strive to be perfect, like an antique, porcelain vase–so exquisite, so flawless. People with this affliction need to look impeccable at all times, exceed at school and employment, have a happy family, and on and on. They will go to great lengths to achieve this goal, even to the point of imperiling their own physical and mental wellbeing.
That’s a curse I’ve been fighting for decades ever since I became aware in grammar school of the requirement for perfection. For me, and I’m sure for too many others, it’s much harder to not be perfect than to be perfect. Personal perfection was drilled into my generation starting in childhood for both males and females. The paths for the different sexes was different then but is less so these days. That same pressure on children is still ongoing, just in another iteration.
I have to work at it all the time to give myself permission to be less than… or even to fail. I can be compassionate and understanding with another’s stumble while beating myself up for the same behavior. Being kind to yourself is soooo hard to do.
In some handmade Persian rugs and carpets, the weavers deliberately make a mistake. The rationale is to not offend Allah, as they believe only their God creates perfection. Deliberate flaws are also practiced by Navajo weavers. The defect allows the maker’s spirit to find its way out of the rug if it becomes trapped there during the rendering. Such behavior serves to remind the craftsmen that errors are intrinsic to human beings.
Are you afflicted with the illness of perfection? Do you berate yourself when you don’t achieve it? Do you spend days in a bad mood, often without knowing why? Are you far harder on yourself than on anyone else? Isn’t that getting old already? What can you do about it?
The reality is that we’ll probably never be able to throw off the affliction of perfection completely–it’s too ingrained. What we can strive for is to reduce the time we spend being distressed about our lesser performance. Like so many other behavior changes, it will only happen in baby steps.
Be mindful when you’re feeling that vague, down sensation. Be conscious of when it is spreading and washing over you. Explore whether the underlying cause is because you didn’t excel in a recent situation. Realize what you’re doing to yourself. Acknowledge that you want to move past it. Then, endeavor to let it go, forgive yourself, and move on.
If you practice that technique or something similar, you may find that the amount of time between the first and last steps diminishes. It will be a slow process, but keep at it. Of course, with or without using such a method, you’ll eventually get from the “bummed out stage” to the “letting-it-go” stage just as you always have. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could do so in hours rather than days?
Reduced to Tears (9-19-21)
Have you ever been out and about doing your thing, and you see someone or a group of someones who move you unexpectedly and intensely? Such a situation is usually unanticipated. It might tap into something very personal for you and even reduce you to instant tears, a disconcerting feeling.
What do you do in such an event? Do you stare unabashedly as the scene unfolds? Do you look away and sneak furtive glances? Do you approach and attempt to engage the person or persons in conversation? Do you repay them in some way for “making your day”? Do you castigate them for ruining your day?
I had such a situation happen to me recently. However, I was the mover not the movee. I have an adult, developmentally disabled daughter, and we were at a local, fast-food restaurant sitting at a table on the patio eating hamburgers. My daughter, always chatty, was commenting and asking questions about everything and everyone, especially the other customers.
“What is that man eating, Mom?”
She pointed to a young man dressed in a shirt and tie sitting alone at a table next to ours.
“It looks like a hamburger, the same as we have.”
I told her that we should not disturb him and just let him enjoy his lunch. She didn’t say anymore on the matter, but she continued to stare at his fascinating cuisine.
The object of her interest finally finished eating while we were about halfway through our meal, and he got up and left. A short time later, I noticed him coming out of the restaurant. He then walked directly up to us, placed a plastic card on the table that had the name of the restaurant on it, and said, “Here, this is for you.”
I looked at the man and told him I didn’t understand. He answered, “I want you to have this. It’s for free meals the next time you come.”
I thought he might work there, but I still couldn’t fathom why he was giving us the gift card, so I questioned him further about it. He went on to explain the reason for his gift. He had been observing my daughter and me, and he was very moved by our interaction. He had a special needs sister whom he had not seen for over a year, and he missed her very much.
The man was wearing a Covid mask, but I could tell that he was holding back tears behind the face covering. We had obviously struck a chord in him, and his only way of showing appreciation and connecting with us was to buy us a gift card. I knew that the kindness on my part would be to accept his offering, which seemed to mean a lot to him.
“Thank you very much. We’ll definitely come back and use it.”
Our benefactor acted eager to leave; I think he was dismayed and embarrassed by his show of emotion. He probably never imagined that one minute he would be casually eating his lunch and the next minute he would be breaking down in public like that.
I had a similar scenario happen to me many years ago. I was at a park with a friend. He had to get something from the car, so I was just sitting on the blanket waiting for him. I noticed a man and a young child at the small creek nearby. He was holding her under her arms while he skipped her feet from stone to stone as she giggled. It was apparent that the small girl with the perky, blond ponytail was severely handicapped. My friend returned a few minutes later to find me sobbing uncontrollably. It had tapped into my role as the mother of a disabled child which I’d been managing to handle with great fortitude.
Sometimes, unplanned encounters act upon us so suddenly and with such force that we lose control. They access deep emotions that we’ve been suppressing. The surprise element hits us before we can muster our defenses, and the feelings burst forth on their own accord. It is nothing to be ashamed of. We all have profound sensibilities which we have buried and which sometimes spring to the surface despite our best efforts. View it as a blessing and not a curse; it’s okay to be human.
Coat Hangers (9-6-21)
Our laws just significantly reversed course on abortion. The United States Supreme Court recently allowed to stand, pending litigation, a new law in the state of Texas restricting abortions after six weeks of pregnancy (a controversial time when a fetal heartbeat supposedly can be detected), a point when some women don’t even know they’re pregnant. That time delay as the matter slowly wends its way through the lower courts will be too slow for many women currently seeking abortions in Texas, a procedure that is time sensitive with a short expiration date.
Texas politicians used a clever trick incorporated into their law by banning state enforcement of illegal wrongdoing, instead authorizing private citizens to file civil suits against those “aiding and abetting” an abortion. Lyft and Uber, the major ride sharing companies, have announced that they will pay the legal fees of their drivers who are sued for such an act–abracadabra, from driver to aider-and-abettor while just trying to support themselves and their families.
If successful in court, plaintiffs will stand to profit by 10,000 big ones–a pretty good incentive to become tattletales. Right-to-life advocates have started the ball rolling to control the bodies of the entire United States population of fertile females.
Now in Texas and coming soon to other copycat states, friends, foes, spouses, children, parents, siblings, neighbors, strangers, or any other human residing in that fair state will be able to secure recompense from a civil court by outing an act of assisting an abortion. Websites have even been created for the right-minded to post tip-offs on potential offenders who might violate this shiny, new law. Such laws enable the proliferation of that ancient and profitable profession: bounty hunter, particularly popular 150 years ago in the Old West of our glorious country.
I wonder if such an outcome would survive the legal tests if the bodies in question belonged to men. For example, if a state passed a law that an adult male must undergo a vasectomy prior to sexual congress with a female who chooses not to become pregnant, might there be an uproar heard from the Pacific to the Atlantic as well as non-contiguous states and territories? Hey, fellas, it’s no big deal. If you eventually decide you want your own progeny, vasectomies are reversible, or you can become a bona fide daddy via artificial insemination using your own little gene carriers.
Pregnant women themselves cannot be sued under the new Texas law for seeking an abortion. However, they will be hard-pressed to find competent assistance to do so. Do these decision makers and passers-of-laws really think that their new restrictive, abortion law will prevent women from having abortions? Do they really believe that women will not turn to whatever means available to prevent delivering an unwanted child?
The truth is that woman will do what they did historically. Those few with the means will decamp to other states or countries where abortion is legal. Those many without the means will clandestinely seek abortions in unsterile conditions with locations accessed through back alley entrances and run by self-taught practitioners. Or, they might revert to the trusty, do-it-yourself method using a wire coat hanger as their medical instrument of choice. Such procedures, of course, will result in many more deaths of said rebel females. Well, maybe those oh-so-wise legislators believe that’s just collateral damage as they put all their efforts into the rights of the unborn, only to walk away from such support once that child is birthed.
Is this the first step of American women going the way of Afghani women: back into the house under the total control of men? Is that what we want to do to fifty percent of our productive population? That will not only push women into the dark ages again but our entire country as well.
This blog is most often directed to retirees, baby boomers, and seniors, a demographic rarely faced with having to seek abortions. Why should they care? Well, because, they have children and grandchildren who might be impacted.
Life is sacred. Each new birth should be cherished, nurtured, and supported. If a woman has decided she is unable or unwilling to do those things, shouldn’t she be the one to make that decision instead of some self-appointed, parental figure who “knows best”?
Props (8-23-21)
Have you ever known someone who is always on, always performing, usually to direct attention to him/herself? Maybe you are that type of person. We all want attention, but I’m talking about the ones who have carried that pursuit to an extreme.
Everyone is a potential prop in their dramatization. They play off of us to any onlookers they can attract, all with the goal, conscious or not, of enhancing themselves and “wowing” their audience.
I worked with a man many years ago who was a master of this technique. I was periodically his target when he’d blindside me, grabbing me around the waist while his buddies looked on. The worst incident was when he forced me backwards, held me in a dance dip position, and started nibbling my neck “all in fun,” as he laughed and performed for the ogling office staff, which was mesmerized by his charismatic personality. Yes, he was the performer in the limelight, and I was his non-consenting prop.
Today, that type of behavior could be classified as sexual harassment. Back then, although embarrassed, I just laughed it off as, Oh, that’s just Jack being Jack. Jack-being-Jack made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t have the words, tools, or support to do anything about it. Jack was not the only one who tried such antics on me at the office, he was just the worst.
The governor of New York has recently resigned due to a pattern of sexual harassment behavior toward woman on his staff. Harvey Weinstein, not so long ago at the pinnacle of a major film production company, is now serving a prison sentence for similar behavior. It’s amazing how the empowerment of classes of people can now bring down those who view themselves as entitled to act with impunity toward them.
Yes, Mr. Governor, times have changed. However, the line that you and others like you have crossed has not been moved as you assert; it has just been outed. Such behavior has always been unacceptable, but today, perpetrators are identified, confronted, and ejected from their lofty positions.
Let me be clear: intimidating behavior can be carried out by women, too; it’s not gender based. It may also include acts other than sexual harassment, which can occur in any setting, not just a work environment. Any type of threat or duress to gain compliance from the victim for the benefit of the offender is part of this pattern. The commonality is that it occurs by the more powerful toward the less powerful for the purpose of advantage to the former.
If you are a victim of uncomfortable, embarrassing, humiliating, intimidating, or criminal behavior by someone with significant dominion over you, how might you respond? There are several avenues available to you:
- You can shrug it off.
- You can stew in private.
- You can walk away from the situation (for the moment or permanently).
- You can confront your harasser (caveat: have a witness present).
- You can publicize the situation either within your institution or to the public in general (ex: company newsletters or internet social media).
- You can file official or legal actions.
Many of the powerful have fallen in recent years after their behavior has been exposed. It’s not necessary to continue succumbing to harassment aimed at you. You can have a voice.
Unspoken Norms (8-9-21)
They are not uttered in public; they’re not written down; no one will admit to them. They are the unspoken rules of society passed down from parent to child. They don’t even have to be verbalized to little Justin or Janine. Just a look, a nod, a smile, or a frown from a parent, teacher, or other role model conveys all that is needed.
These silent instructions on how to behave and with whom to associate permeate race, religion, ethnicity, and socio/economic levels: “Stay away from ‘them,’ ” or “Hang around with your own kind.” Lessons such as these form today’s caste system wrapped up in a new bow but just as crippling. They restrict those of different groups from intermingling “too much.” They govern who little J or J grows up to associate with, marry, and even what they study in school, where they work, and in what neighborhood they live.
Yes, times they are a changin’ but by inches rather than miles. Prejudice abounds and influences. Whole genres of people are excluded from progressing just because they don’t fit in, don’t belong. When we as a collective perpetuate such conduct, we miss out on potential betterment.
Gustavo Dudamel, the world renowned symphony conductor, was born into a poor, Venezuelan family. He was mentored as a child through “El Sistema,” a program in his home country to train disadvantaged but gifted children in classical music. By 2009, he rose to become the conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Symphony, and he continues to serve in that capacity as its music and artistic director.
Why do the offspring of rich, prominent people receive so many more advantages with such little effort compared to a Dudamel? Top universities offer legacy admissions to children of renowned alumni. Often, donations or prestige to said schools are part of the mix. Are these entitled kids so talented that they contribute significantly to the benefit of the greater good? Well, some may be, but many are not, bagging those coveted spots despite their own mediocre showing while waving around Mommy or Daddy’s creds.
Ponder the future benefits to our country that could be wasted by awarding the best college opportunities and job positions based on parentage or social position. Consider the genius we might be overlooking as so many jockey to keep particular groups down. Look at the potential skills and contributions that might fall by the wayside due to classifying hundreds of thousands of immigrants as illegal and therefore not allowed in. There could be a future Albert Einstein languishing in those detention cages.
Is mankind destined to continue shooting itself in its proverbial foot generation after generation? Will we remain small-minded forever? Where are our visionary leaders to put a stop to such backward thinking and lead us to greater advancement, prosperity, and happiness?
Hoarding (7-25-21)
We all save things under the guise of “you never know when you may need it.” This “stuff” can range from old furniture and clothes to string and paper bags. In this age of too much waste and a trend toward recycling, such behavior is laudable.
However, what happens when saving becomes chronic? There is a term for that: hoarding.
There are several possible reasons for why one becomes a hoarder. Explanations can include an obsessive-compulsive disorder, an adaptation to having experienced deprivation in earlier years, or having been raised in a similar environment.
Some hoarders live among excessive clutter to the point of not being able to sit on chairs and couches inside their homes, such locations having been usurped by their treasures. They may have to walk through narrow paths etched out of their possessions just to travel from room to room.
Hoarding behavior spills over into all domains of its practitioners: garages, cars, workplaces, and the like. Many of these locations can barely be breached due to the barricade constructed from their cache. There are the stacks of newspapers and magazines waiting to be read or re-read. There is the latest Amazon gadget not yet assembled. There might be that very serviceable item begging to be repaired.
Hoarders aren’t able to clean the house of accumulated dirt and dust because they can’t even get to it. Assorted vermin such as mice, rats, and insects may have taken up residence among the tunnels and caves created by the stash. These creatures are very content with their oh, so comfortable living arrangements. Their offspring thrive on the conditions, and great and great-great grandchildren proliferate. These multigenerational families live side by side as the hoarder continually increases their housing stock.
Hoarders are often well organized; they know where everything is. They may have to dig through several inches or feet of their piles to find what they are seeking, but that is just a minor inconvenience to them. The hoarder is usually quite content with this way of living. It is others who have a problem with it. So, the extreme hoarder may stop inviting people to visit. They can’t face another comment like, “Gee, everything is all over the place. Are you moving?” or “It looks like a bomb fell in here.”
Clutterers and hoarders are not quite the same. They probably fall on a continuum with the former being the lite version of the latter. Nevertheless, regardless of the degree of messiness of such a lifestyle, it may prove unpalatable to those on the neatness end of the scale.
If you are a hoarder and are happy with your home as you’ve arranged it, then there is no problem. However, what if you are someone who shares a dwelling with a hoarder such as a spouse, child, parent, or roommate? If you’re okay with it, again there’s no problem. However, what do you do if you hate living that way but have decided for whatever reason (love, lack of funds, still a minor…) to continue residing with the hoarder? Here are several possible approaches to consider:
- You can change your own outlook and make peace with living that way.
- You might bargain with the hoarder to limit their collections to just the garage or specific rooms in the house.
- You may opt to limit yourself to specific rooms and turn over the rest of the residence to the hoarder and his/her proclivities.
- You can hire a professional organizer who will arrive with containers, boxes, files, and the like.
- You might opt to live in different abodes if you can afford it while still maintaining your relationship.
- As extreme hoarding may be a mental health disorder or connected to depression, you might need to seek outside intervention from a counselor or therapist to help negotiate a deal with your hoarder.
- You may need to terminate the relationship to ever achieve the neat, orderly life you crave.
Coming Out Party (7-11-21)
It used to be that only debutantes had coming out parties. They were called balls–glitzy and expensive social gatherings accompanied by music, dancing, and food. Young women, typically daughters of wealthy families, were formally introduced to society and appropriate, eligible bachelors.
Currently, we are in the midst of a different type of coming out party: an international, collective, coming out of lockdown party. It celebrates leaving behind a physical and mental state imposed upon us by the Covid 19 pandemic that isolated us from each other and prevented us from reaching our full potential.
Fortunately, technology provided us with ways to connect via such inventions as Zoom and other online interfaces. However, after over a year of Zooming and the like, it’s gotten wearisome. We are anxious to shed our chrysalis and fly free.
Many of my clubs and activities are opening up for in-person get-togethers and leaving our internet meetings behind. Social connection video websites, even with their limitations and glitches, have been wonderful to occupy us and fill our hours of isolation during that forced cloister state. However, my intermittent back pain reminds me that I have been spending too many hours sitting in front of a computer screen filled with little boxes containing talking heads. Now, I am anxious to exchange virtual human interaction for the real thing. It’s time to give up that alone life inside my abode and come out into the daylight
Long since fully vaccinated, I am slowly discarding my cloak of hibernation just as millions of cicadas, those elusive insects, recently did in large swaths of our country at their own coming out party after seventeen years of lockdown. In comparison, we humans have been fortunate that our sequestration was only a year.
It has been a slow, cautious awakening. It still feels strange to be anywhere in the vicinity of other homo sapiens without a protective covering over my mouth and nose lest I transmit or receive those killer, aerosol drops.
We are social animals meant for real human contact. It nourishes and nurtures us.
Unsolicited Critiques (6-27-21)
There is a certain critical personality type. They often make unsolicited, hurtful comments to friends and strangers alike. These can be in the form of left-handed compliments that seem on their face to be positive but have a zinger at the end. I don’t know if the perpetrators are even aware of how their scolding verbalizations come across. Here are a few I’ve received down through the years, none of which I requested:
“Lee Gale, you’re so attractive. You’d be a knockout if you had your face done.” This was uttered by a “friend” who herself chased after that illusive youth using plastic surgery and other procedures. She once confided that she’d have another face-lit if she could afford it. She was in her 70s at the time.
"You know, you’d look much younger if your hair weren’t white.” This was pronounced by a first date who himself had questionable hair. (I think I’ve mentioned this one before in another blog; I’ve never forgotten his verdict.)
“I see you’ve stopped going to the beauty shop and let your hair color grow out. You always did have trouble spending money.” This was expressed by a neighbor who had been a casual friend whom I hadn’t seen in years. She sported an expensive, dyed/highlighted coiffure sitting atop her 85-year-old body.
A relative recently told me that someone commented on her weight problem with the "helpful" suggestion that she attend Weight Watchers. Does the commenter think the victim of their "well-meaning" suggestion doesn't know about that program? Does said messenger think that they are bringing enlightenment to said receiver of their unrequested advice? Just about all people battling being overweight know more than anyone the programs, literature, and treatments available. They don't need to be schooled by "well-doers."
Why do people act like that? Where did they learn such insensitive behavior? Are they really clueless as to how painful such remarks can be? Often, the answer to those questions has to do with their own insecurities. Maybe a parent, teacher, sibling, spouse or peer was hypercritical of them? Perhaps they are perfectionists who insist on that trait in everyone else? They might get a payoff by making someone else squirm?
When you closely examine such a “Good Samaritan,” you may find that they are not as perfect as they’d like to think they are. Everyone has faults. Often, the very thing they criticize others for is something they hate in themselves.
If you’re a person who nitpicks with your criticisms, think about why you do that? Then, cut it out or you might end up with no friends at all. We really don’t want to hear your negative editorials. If we are such a turnoff to you in our present form, then take your business elsewhere. Remember and practice that old adage: “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”
How to Pitch to Seniors (6-13-21)
Many younger people don’t seem to have a clue about how to talk to seniors. They use words and techniques that are inappropriate for the conversation, the setting, or the interaction. I have heard this from other seniors and experienced it myself, often in retail sales situations where a younger salesperson is trying to sell his/her widgets to someone the age of their grandparents. I’ve written on this subject previously in this forum. (See my blog of December 29, 2016: Words that Diminish.)
I’ve never understood why enterprises don’t teach inter-generational communication techniques in their employee training sessions. Seniors make up a huge demographic with plenty of money to spend on merchandise and services. They should be courted and approached with the goal of a successful deal. That starts with meaningful communication. So, in the interest of commerce for the betterment of all, here are some tips for those in the business world on how to pitch to senior clients:
- Don’t ever demean us by calling us sweetie, honey, my boy, young lady/man, or any other diminutive term that reduces us in stature and makes us childlike.
- Don’t use “young people” jargon; it makes you appear inexperienced and amateurish. Expressions such as “awesome” or “cool” used as one-word interjections or responses instead of the adjectives that they are belong in conversations with your peers, not in a professional world. When a senior hears such terms, they lose confidence in your ability to handle the business at hand and their money.
- Don’t speak louder figuring we’ll understand better unless you see signs that we are hearing impaired. We may look frail and vulnerable, but we are not kids. We studied hard in school, worked at jobs and careers, and reared our children. We are very smart and perceptive even if we don’t look or act it.
- Identify who your buyer is. If we are the paying customer, talk to us. Never infer by your approach that we are less than adequate. If we are the one pulling out the credit card, signing the check, opening our wallet, or handing you the coins from our piggy bank, we are your target customer.
- If we are accompanied by someone younger such as one of our adult children or grandchildren, do not talk past us and aim your pitch to them because you think they’re better able to understand. If we’re paying the bill, aim your pitch to us. If we need help from our companion, we can ask for it.
- If someone with us begins to assume the major role in the discussion/negotiation, always include us in anything you say, whether it be by spanning your eyes at both of us, addressing each of us individually one after the other, or however you accomplish delivery to a group.
- Figure out our needs. For example: If I’m shopping for a new car and just want one that is easy to handle, stop trying to sell me all the complicated Bells and Whistles which I don’t understand and can’t operate. Just start with five wheels, four to roll on and one to steer. You might briefly mention that there are optional add-ons if I’m interested, but then shut up. If I want more information about the heated seats, cruise control, lane assist, keyless entry, or any of the other B&Ws that car manufacturers have created to pry additional money out of me, I’ll ask about them. Shoving them down my throat makes me gag and want to flee.
- Treat seniors with respect and dignity at all times.
- Always remember: Never, ever, ever shut us out, or you do so to your own detriment.
Aw, Go Fly a Kite (5-30-21)
I was walking in a lovely park on a beautiful spring day with my son recently. What a treat! His family was occupied with other activities. Usually there is someone else around competing for his attention, but this time I had him all to myself.
After strolling through pristine nature including along the waterline of a Pacific Ocean bay, we came upon a section filled with kites and their handlers. They were of all sizes, shapes, colors, and persuasions, both aerial gliders and grounded pilots. There was even a mobile kite shop housed in a truck to fulfill all one’s kiting needs.
I guess the word had gotten around to the local practitioners and aficionados as to the location of the kite happening. New arrivals steadily joined those already there, with many launching their prized entrants.
The gliders battled in an unofficial competition, vying for the originality of their designs and the skill of their operators. They sported elaborate patterns, long tails, and a human at the other end adept at manipulating the thin string that separated them. I witnessed complicated maneuvers including swooping, soaring, and a variety of loop-the-loops. One acrobatic combination outdid the next with the tails forming coils, snakes, figure eights and the like.
Kites bring up many thoughts. “Go fly a kite” was a provocative taunt used by young people which began over 100 years ago. It was also blurted out to encourage an irritating person to leave. Of course, I must not forget to mention the most famous kite flyer of all: Benjamin Franklin. In 1752, he proved the connection between lightning and electricity by attaching a wire, a hemp string, a silk string, and finally a metal key to a kite which he launched during a thunder storm. For more in-depth details of Franklin’s experiment, google it.
We humans are like kites. We soar to great heights, swoop to great lows, and our wobbly path through life definitely consists of loop-the-loops. Yet we are tethered to our responsibilities: family, children, jobs… The leash keeps us secure, but it should not stop us from flying. Always be a kite. Just because you are grounded and stable does not mean you can’t reach for the sky.
Loss, Loss, and More Loss (5-17-21)
A friend recently asked me to write a blog about death or decline as is happening to many friends in her life and certainly in mine. She talked about the sadness she feels as she deletes yet one more contact from her address list. That reality also hits as she sees names she recognizes in the obituary column or hears about the passing of celebrities in the upper age ranges.
When we reach the category of senior citizen, we are supposed to enter our golden years. The prize is to be wise, content, and find purpose. Yes, we may have those feelings some of the time, but like all ages and stages, life is cyclical.One of the low points of being a senior is how losing peers seems to be accelerating. This ranges from significant others to mere acquaintances. The number of collective deaths increases dramatically as more and more age plateaus are reached.
Living in a senior retirement community of thousands, I hear ambulance sirens more often than before I moved here. News of someone in my sphere dying has sped up, like the counter on the gas pump as you squeeze harder on the nozzle trigger. So many close friends or relatives are gone. Those who are left keep wondering which one will be next.
Many years ago, my longtime friend, Maya, and I had a similar discussion. She had been slowly deteriorating as her Parkinson’s disease progressed.
“You’re the last man standing, Lee Gale,” she told me one day, while comparing my robust body with her frail one.
I lost Maya a few years ago. She was four years younger than I. Her husband allowed me to choose some of her belongings to keep. Although they don’t match my decor, that’s not important. They enhance my home, reminding me of her and of our friendship, which is so much more important than lack of color or style coordination. Other rooms display belongings from family members and friends who are now gone, too. Those treasures comfort me and make me feel connected to the ones who have exited my life.
I’ve written before on loss and death. See my blogs of December 9, 2018: “A Tandakoan's Reflection on an Obituary," and December 4, 2016: “The Death of a Friend.”
Such considerations can cripple us and plunge us into fear and depression. We must fight against harmful emotions by trying hard to emphasize the wondrous parts of our lives. Of course, it’s restorative to mourn our losses. However, at the same time we must preserve what brings us pleasure and purpose: friends, family, activities, learning, exploration, and so on? Don’t let those valuable nuggets slip away. Hang onto them as if your life depended upon it, because it does. Continue to immerse yourself in those pursuits, and let them heal you.
Full-Time Half-Mast (5-2-21)
American flag flies at the entrance to the community where I live. These days, it seems to be perpetually at half-mast. The practice started several centuries ago and referred to such an action on a ship. When done on land, the term is: half-staff. Currently, both terms are used interchangeably. There is also strict protocol on the raising and lowering of a flag to this position.
The half-mast tradition is to show respect, distress, or mourning. Many years ago, I remember it only being used following the death of someone of great importance such as the president of the United States. Nowadays, more and more it is to honor those killed in local mass violence incidents.
In recent times, such occurrences seem to be a daily happening in our nation. I no longer even ask why the flag is flying at half-mast. Too many people have become angry, disenchanted with the life in this country, and are looking to take out as many people as they can, often committing suicide as an encore to their finale.
I’ve never understood why such an act seems so compelling. What is it about murdering a bunch of humans before doing yourself in rather than just the latter alone that motivates these mass murderers? Perhaps what I should be asking is why such behavior has become so commonplace? Is it the ease in obtaining weapons that makes it quick and effective? Is it the trendy “way to go” which rubs off from one to another? Is it the making of some grand statement before exiting with a flourish? We can’t just chalk it up to mental illness as some propose. There are a lot of mentally ill individuals who do not commit mass murder. Conversely, there are numerous mass murderers who are not mentally ill.
Of course, it’s impossible to know why any one individual stockpiles weapons and ammunition, singles out their Homo sapiens of choice, and goes at it. Sometimes, we can surmise the reason when their prey consists of significant others, or the deed is carried out at a workplace where the assassin had been castigated or dismissed from their job and is looking for payback to targeted victims. However, so often the crime is executed against total strangers. Perhaps they represent something in the perpetrator’s mind as ideal for a symbolic act of revenge.
Whether or not we figure out the motive, the fact remains that the scourge is increasing. Domestic murder has grown to epidemic proportions right along with COVID-19. No longer can children just go out and play in the streets as they did when I was a child. Today, it’s supervised play dates with friends or being accompanied by parents wherever they go.
Grab life while you can, folks. You never know who’s going to go off when you or your loved ones randomly happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Home Therapy (4-18-21)
I love to hang around hardware stores; I always have. They contain such fascinating items for building and repairing anything you can think of. Engaging with the store clerks helps me learn about the gadgets I’m encountering. When I was a young bride, I’d frequent hardware stores to help in decorating our new home. So often, a clerk, usually an older man, would advise me to have my husband come in so he could explain it to him.
“My husband has ten thumbs,” I’d snap. “I’m the mechanical one, so explain it to me!”
Okay, maybe it was only eight thumbs, but his strengths favored his mind, not his fine motor skills. I remember the day we bought the crib for our soon-to-be-born first child. After choosing from all the beautiful ones on display at the baby store, we were handed a box to take home and assemble. My husband insisted on doing the job; isn’t that what a new father is supposed to do? I could see that he was screwing it up, but whenever I tried to offer advice, he got mad. We had a big argument over that one. When he went to work the next day, I took it all apart and reassembled it correctly.
I often go to Home Depot which is the largest home improvement company in the country open to the general public. Its locations all look the same: a cube of a warehouse filled with most things to fix or upgrade your digs. It also operates in Mexico and Canada.
HD has aisle after aisle with such intriguing signs as: plumbing, electrical, lumber, garden, storage, shelving, hardware, fasteners, doors, bath, kitchen, fencing, mowers, lighting, insulation, tools, and the list goes on. Each intrigues me. It’s better than the proverbial candy store lusted after by kids. I can’t wait to find out what wonders are there. I’ve written before on my adventures at HD. (See my blog of May 27, 2019 titled: “Watson.”)
A friend calls it my therapy. In fact, she renamed the store “Home Therapy.” She’s right, and it’s a lot cheaper than ongoing sessions with a psychotherapist. Don’t tell the Home Therapy management, or they’ll start charging me an entrance fee. So right now, after walking the rows at HT for the past few hours, I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot writing this blog.
Unfortunately, HT, as wonderful as it is, can’t measure up to the hardware stores of my youth. Those independently operated, mom and pop gems didn’t have merchandise in little plastic bags with the manufacturer’s paper label on them, forcing you to buy a dozen screws when you only needed two.
Most of them have gone under, driven out by big chains like HT. However, one that held on for almost 100 years before closing in 2017 was in Santa Monica, California, near where I lived for the first 75 years of my life. It was called: Busy Bee Hardware. When you walked into Busy Bee, shelves seem to go up to the ceiling filled with anything you could think of to aid in construction or repair. Yes, they had some items in the plastic bags with the paper labels, but many of those were dusty, having been there for eons it seems, just like the store personnel.
My favorite section of Busy Bee held their hidden stash. Strange little gadgets were sequestered in the wall of tiny, wooden drawers behind the counter that seemed to go on forever. Anything you could want or imagine was certainly there.
Today, I was searching for a very odd item. I had bought an antique lamp which I love. However, I’m planning to top it with a taller shade. That requires a taller harp (the wire apparatus which forms parentheses around the lightbulb and holds up the shade). The modern harps fit on the lamp, but the little threaded screw sticking up from the top to which I must attach the finial to hold the shade secure has a narrower diameter then the receiving end inside the lamp’s original finial. I had a similar situation with another old lamp, and it had an adapter inside. I’ve since learned that said item has a name: a lamp finial reducer. You simply screw it into the old finial and, presto, the inside threaded portion is narrowed, ready to screw onto its counterpart on a new age harp.
HT does not stock finial reducers. Apparently, they’re not a highly sought after item–go figure. I am sure that if I were able to visit Busy Bee Hardware and explain my problem to a staff member, he/she would go behind the counter, open one of those mysterious drawers, and pull out exactly what I need. Oh Busy Bee, I miss you.
Not everything new and shiny is so wonderful. Sometimes the things we used to take for granted and are now gone were better than their current replacements–at least those requiring finial reducers et al.
That Poor Scapegoat Just Can't Catch a Break (4-4-21)
When people are aggrieved, they often take to the streets to make their voices heard. I recently attended a public demonstration in my retirement village. The protesters were of all races, hues, genders, and ages, there to support the Asian community which is the current visible face of anger and blame for the anguish caused by the Covid 19 coronavirus currently ravishing mankind. For some irrational reason, just because said virus started in China, vitriol has been hurled against Asians, Chinese or not, even those who were born in the United States. You might just as well say that all humans are responsible because the virus started in the world.
I spent my time walking up and down the line of attendees, taking photographs of the mostly homemade signs many held up. They are re-produced below. I’ve written on the theme of public demonstrations before complete with photos of signs displayed by participants. (See my blog of January 21, 2017, “Speaking Out.”)
Everyone in the crowd was masked, still adhering to Covid 19 protocols, which made it difficult to recognize anyone I knew and vice versa. That didn’t matter; what mattered was body count. I was there in solidarity with a group whose members all shared the same indignation about the recent uptick in abuse toward Asians ranging from racially tinged statements to outright violence. The demonstrators were friendly and very appreciative of each one’s efforts.
Some people feel they must have a target toward which to aim their wrath–the stereotypical scapegoat, a concept that started 500 years ago. If one is not easily available, another will do just as well.
Folks are fearful and angry about the destruction that the Covid 19 virus has caused including death, illness, job loss, isolation, and more. Somehow, a few of the more deranged persuasion figure that harming an Asian will assuage those emotions. I’m not sure how you get from Point A to Point B in that particular scenario, but scapegoating just doesn’t work as the perpetrator intended. The coronavirus wreaking havoc on the world today is simply not interested in whom you choose to damage as it follows its natural course, fueled by the defiant and reckless behavior of too many.
The most recent outrage occurred during a mass shooting on March 16, 2021 at three Atlanta, Georgia spas, killing mostly Asian women. The confessed murderer, who may have religious conflict issues, apparently claimed he was having a bad day and that his motivation for committing the crimes was his sex addiction. I guess he’s positioning himself for the ever popular “the-devil-made-me-do-it” defense.
Any excuse one has for bad behavior does not mitigate their particular pressing problem or bad day. Viruses or any other social or natural problems are not influenced by which target you choose to blame, injure, or kill. Your same demons will be waiting for you after your dastardly deed, whether it be launching bullets or racial slurs.
Again I ponder as others have before me, “Why can’t we all just get along?” It seems humanity is always destined for the negative in that utopian goal.
Buying My Own Red Cabbage (3-22-21)
Eureka, I am free! I’ve had my second Covid 19 vaccine shot, and the requisite time has passed for all those little antibodies boogieing around inside to kick in and protect my corpus. I’m ready to come out of hibernation! I spent the entire lockdown without entering a supermarket. I’ve written on this theme before. (See my blog of 5-27-20: “Missing the Little Things.”). Now, finally, I can do my own shopping–oh joy, oh rapture!
Marketing chores had been done by erstwhile professional shoppers through the local shopping app, who then delivered them to my door. Thank you, guys. You are among the first responders, keeping the rest of us safe or at least safer. As a result of a breakdown in communication, however, at times I received some strange items having nothing to do with what I had in mind as my choices were fed into a computer.
As part of my last online order, I requested one red cabbage. My groceries arrived, and indeed it contained said item. However, it was the biggest red cabbage I have ever seen, weighing in at four pounds. I could have drilled a few holes and launched it as a lightweight bowling ball. I normally use red cabbage only as one of many ingredients in a green salad, so a small one lasts me a long time. Now that I had received a lifetime supply, I took to google for recipes. Subsequently, I have used my multi-pounder for items such as colorful coleslaw and braised sweet and sour cabbage. Nevertheless, I still have 1.63 pounds left–sigh.
Yes, I have been hungering, thirsting, and pining to do my own food shopping. What I used to consider just a necessary chore had become a wished for dream. Now, I am able to make my own decisions about how and what I eat. I cruise the aisles choosing my old favorites that had been unavailable to me with a middleman involved. I evaluate, weigh, and judge each item, using my brain and personal likes and dislikes. No longer am I a child to someone else’s parenting. Of course, my red cabbage scenario extrapolates to all the other areas of my life.
When we relinquish our personal power and control to someone or something else, we become dependent. It is then difficult to make our own decisions. So, I’ve taken mine back. I’m still sharp and don’t need caretakers. What about you? Once you’ve had your requisite vaccinations, reclaim what you had to give up. Step back into your big boy pants or big girl dress!
Squeezing in a Hike Between Rainy Days (3-7-21)
I pass through the gate separating my retirement community from the wilderness surrounding it--a demarcation line between bustling civilization and an untouched world. I’ve traversed that same divider before, each time feeling like I’m in the 1937 movie “Lost Horizon” where I turn a corner after having slogged through howling snow up treacherous mountain peaks, and Shangri-La opens up before me. I’ve written on this topic before–same location, different wonders. (See my blog of March 31, 2020, “Out and About in the Time of Covid 19”: https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2020/03/) What discoveries await me this time?
Here’s the first one: a pile of medium-sized boulders resting in the hollow of an otherwise smooth, grass-covered mini-valley. It is alone, this pile. How did it get here? What sliding glaciers or tumultuous waters deposited those hefty rocks in just this spot to rest for eons as their driving H2O slowly receded? When was that very instant when the raging forces began to dissipate, no longer having the power to move the boulders along? Now they sit, waiting for global warming to raise the ocean levels anew and trickle back to this area to continue the task of herding their charges along a mysterious path.
I scramble on, searching for the next find. There it is beneath my feet. My pathway is flanked by moss, brought out by the last rains. It forms a luxurious, green carpet against the brown dirt trail.
I come upon some scat which reminds me that this is not my private domain. A wild creature has been here recently. I am the invader, encroaching upon its territory.
I spot majestic trees at the top of the hill, the evergreens sporting their full-time leaves and the deciduous awaiting their spring foliage. They beckon me to dig deep for a reserve of strength to keep climbing. I struggle up and summit the crest, searching for my destination.
I see it–a large, isolated boulder. It must have been that same furious ice or liquid that positioned it here so long ago. Although hard to make out in the bright sunlight, it is chiseled on its face with 19th century hieroglyphics—a young man announcing his name and the date, 1855, to the world as young men have done since humans first encountered such convenient writing surfaces.
Time to turn back for home–enough for today. I leave Shangri-La behind, but I know it is there waiting for me to revisit whenever I choose. I’ll await the predicted rains in the coming days bringing their cleansing life force.
I’m left to ponder the very instant when our lives turn. We don’t usually recognize it while it’s happening–only in hindsight. Can we mobilize the fortitude to move forward once again, or must we wait eons?
Grappling with Opposing Political Views (2-22-21)
In today’s politically charged climate, what happens if a friend, relative, or anyone else in your immediate and frequent sphere has a different take on politics than you do? Considerations of that sort didn’t seem so important in years past. However, in modern times, they’ve increased by magnitudes. Relationships of all sorts have split due to such differences in political inclinations.
I had an experience in my own life. I am very close to a family member. We were having a talk, and the subject shifted to politics. Well, she certainly had a very different slant than I did. I was surprised as I hadn’t expected it. Soon, the discussion became heated and uncomfortable. Subsequently when we’d see each other, the same thing happened.
We both valued our relationship and didn’t want to ruin it. Without a spoken plan or official peace treaty, we just deleted politics as a potential topic of discussion when we got together. That worked very well for us.
Usually we choose our friends because we share things in common, politics being only one of a plethora. Nevertheless, we won’t agree on everything with everyone, and we don’t have to. When you feel a connection with someone and find a point of disagreement, avoidance is often the best solution. There’s nothing wrong with that.
The trend these days is to reveal our innermost thoughts and feelings. "Don’t hold it in" is the advice we hear from mental health professionals. Yes, that can be therapeutic. However, sometimes, it may not be the best course of action on certain subjects. Things such as politics, religion, and culture form our core beliefs. Do you really want to spend a significant portion of your valuable time trying to change another to be in lockstep with your particular version of how to live life?
If you are in a close relationship and you want it to thrive because it offers each party so much, you might want to consider avoidance as a way to slide over those areas where you are not in agreement. Avoidance is also a handy tool for less intimate yet still meaningful interactions that you do not want to damage such as employer/employee, teacher/student, coworkers, and the like. You must get along for those relationships to be successful, and avoidance of certain areas of potential conflict might serve you well. Must you really discuss your political leanings in the break room at your job? The chances are that it will only stir up animosity with someone, and you risk damaging productive teamwork.
Make the relationship work for you both, benefit from the things that attracted you to each other in the first place, and disregard the rest. Seek the wheat and let the chaff just drift away.
Your Own Worst Critic (2-7-21)
Why are people so critical of themselves? It starts in childhood when we become aware of the successes and failings of humans. We begin attaching that critical face and finger pointing by our elders to something bad, wrong, and unacceptable about us. We adopt the gesture ourselves, set it in stone, and turn it inward, constantly measuring ourselves compared to others. Somehow, that assessment always seems to be pitted against those who are more adept, not those who are less. The “less” we dismiss as anomalies while we hunger to be among the “more.”
As we mature, it seems that no matter how much we accomplish, there is always someone who bests us. We go on to extrapolate this to every aspect of our lives: how smart we are, how attractive, how rich, popular, accomplished, thin, tall, buff… The list is never ending. We carry this critical self-assessment into our senior years. Life is viciously competitive, and we never quite measure up. As people become adults, they get pretty good at covering up this lack of self-confidence, but it’s always there just under the surface, niggling away. It hobbles many completely.
A good friend recently sent me an email to view a video of a storytelling performance she was part of where each participant reads their own composition. Her opening comment before I even came to the link was how dissatisfied she was with her presentation. I watched the video and found her story and the telling of it to be charming as her work usually is. Yes, there were a few stumbles as she spoke, but they were minor and only added to her humanity.
I’m certainly guilty of self-criticism. No matter how hard I strive or how well I do, I never feel I’ve gotten it right. When I find blunders in my own work, my appearance (those unruly curls are always sticking out of place), or the numerous other aspects I focus on, I blow them up in my mind to giant failures.
The competition is unrelenting. I often feel I’m vying against others who appear to be wiser, more experienced, or have more college degree abbreviations following their names. Yes, I’m easing up on myself as I age, but I forever seem to be a work in progress.
Now, as a senior, that competition is often against the younger population. Is there ever a time interval where we’re allowed to be okay with who we are, where we are? The answer, of course, is yes. However, you must change your mindset. It has nothing to do with your age, sex, or any other descriptor you can attach to yourself. It’s simply a matter of making a decision that now is the moment you are just fine and in just the right time and place of your life.
Our new president, Joe Biden, misspeaks regularly in his talks before huge audiences. It stems from a childhood speech impediment. He is an inspiration to overcoming self-criticism, or if not fully conquering it, then carrying on in spite of it.
It’s time to forgive ourselves for being imperfect, folks, and to embrace our humanity. If we don’t finally get to kill off that little internal critic that we’ve carried with us all these decades into our senior years, when will we ever be able to do so?
New Year - New Start (1-24-21)
Today, I welcome a guest blogger, Priscilla Tudor. She is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker with 30 years experience in counseling, facilitating groups, and teaching classes and workshops. She was the manager of Counseling Services at Rossmoor, a gaited retirement community of 10,000 active seniors, for 15 years. She can be contacted at: [email protected]. Here is her guest blog:
NEW YEAR – NEW START “IN 2021 I WILL BECOME A HAPPY, FULFILLED PERSON, DESPITE COVID-19.” by: Priscilla Tudor
Does this seem like an impossible goal? Psychologists used to believe that happiness was primarily a function of our genetic make-up. David Lykken, University of Minnesota researcher, developed the concept of a genetically programmed “happiness set-point”. On a scale of 1-10 with one being very unhappy and 10 being extremely happy, Lykken initially thought that over the life span, people experienced temporary ups and downs, but always returned to their set point. In recent years as a result of further study, Lykken has revised his thinking. In January, 2005 he told Time magazine, “It is clear that we can change our happiness levels widely – up or down.” The idea that we can increase our happiness is the force behind a new branch of psychology, “Positive Psychology,” created by Dr. Martin Seligman, Professor of Psychology at the University of Pennsylvania. Research by Seligman and others has shown that we can become happier by changing our attitudes and beliefs and adopting new behaviors.
The process starts with making up your mind to become a happier more fulfilled person. Once you have established your goal, the following steps will help you achieve your objective:
- Begin by asking yourself, “What can I do today to bring more joy into my life?” Make a list of 31 concrete things you can do to increase your life satisfaction, and incorporate at least one item on your list into your schedule every day! Make sure that the list does not consist only of expensive or high calorie treats, or you will get into trouble. Having enjoyable activities to anticipate will provide incentive and will also in itself increase your life satisfaction.
- Identify your beliefs and attitudes about happiness. If your beliefs do not support your resolution to be happy, for example, if you believe that our plight in life is to suffer, discard that belief and substitute the belief that you deserve happiness.
- Examine your behavior to determine which behaviors stand in the way of your happiness. For instance, do you refuse to allow yourself time for play and relaxation. List your self-defeating behaviors and make a plan to change those behaviors.
- Make a list of all the positive consequences you will experience by changing your self-defeating behaviors and refer to the list often.
- Remind yourself that change is a PROCESS. Start slowly and be patient with yourself.
- Make yourself “POSITIVE AFFIRMATION CARDS” with statements such as: “I am so proud of you.” “I am succeeding.” “My behavior is positive and healthy.” “I am enjoying life more each day.” and refer to them if you feel discouraged.
- Keep a journal of trigger situations. Make a note of the situations which trigger the old behaviors along with new responses to substitute for the destructive behavior. For instance, if driving in traffic makes you angry and unhappy, play soothing music or listen to a book on tape while driving to distract yourself. Change, even positive change, is stressful. Take time to nurture yourself.
- Tell your family and friends that your goal is to become a happier person and enlist them as cheerleaders.
- If you relapse and find yourself in a bad mood or feeling blue, do not beat yourself up. Realize that all moods and feelings are transitory. The mood will pass. Give yourself positive strokes for trying to become a happier person and keep trying. INCREASED JOY AND LIFE SATISFACTION ARE WELL WORTH THE EFFORT. YOU CAN DO IT!
New Years Day 2021 (1-10-21)
Throughout the world, folks have been anxious to leave 2020 in our collective dust. We’ve designated 2021 as a year of hope and change. We’ve been through a miserable time for the past year with bad behavior globally by Homo sapiens and microbial wannabes. (There is debate as to whether viruses are actually alive.) As the scene in the 1937 movie, Lost Horizon, so graphically illustrates, now is the time to round that last snow covered, treacherous mountain peak in the Himalayas and enter Shangri-La.
What did you do on January 1, 2021 to start yourself on this new course? Was it special, memorable, or the same old, same old?
I went for a glorious hike in a nearby, regional park covering over 6000 acres of unspoiled wilderness accompanied by my son who that very day marked a half century of living on this earth. We actually counted down on our watches as the time arrived when we first met fifty years earlier. Since then, on the opening day of each year, I have spoken with him to say "Happy Birthday" no matter where in the world he or I happened to be which at times has fallen on opposite sides of the globe. Yes, each January 1st, I remember very well where I was and what I was doing as I welcomed in a new child and a new year at the same time.
During our hike, we happened upon a corral of horses which is allowed by some government machination to be on this public land. A bit more hiking brought us to a few dozen cows, also given permission to reside there as they add to the health of the ecosystem according to a posted sign.
One cow was quite irate over our invasion of her territory, and she mooed us away in no uncertain terms. We did a 180 and skedaddled, but she followed us and continued harping. We bumped up our pace as her lowing faded into the background. I can’t blame her; I’m not thrilled either when others overstep my boundaries without asking permission.
After about two miles, the sun’s angle and our watches notified us it was time to turn around which was going to require another two mile hike. My energy began to flag, and I had to stop and rest more and more.
“Stay here, Mom. I’ll be right back,” said son as he walked off the trail toward a downed tree.
I could see him searching the debris, and he soon returned carrying a thin branch about six feet long and three inches in diameter. Thrusting one end in my direction and instructing me to grab it, he stepped ahead while holding the other end. Then, leaning into his task, he started to walk.
“Hang on, Mom,” commanded my self-appointed puller as he imparted some of his energy to me while remaining socially distanced in this time of Covid 19.
We proceeded like that at a good pace the rest of the way back as other hikers who passed us in the opposite direction glanced in amusement. I may have detected a little envy, too, but I’m not sure. Sometimes, natural resources and a bit of ingenuity are all that’s needed to solve a problem.
We must continue moving forward in these trying times, even when we don’t feel like it. Don’t give up. Be innovative. Seek out ways to improve your situation. Search away from your usual path, and grab your own tree limb to assist you.
Hope You Had a Happy/Merry Whatever (12-27-20)
This is the holiday season. It coincides with the winter months which can be a dreary and depressing time for many. Centuries ago, humans, those smart little buggers, figured out a way to brighten up this part of the year for themselves. What better way to raise spirits than a party? So, we created all the fun stuff that goes with such an occasion: invitations, decorations, songs, dances, particular symbols, special clothing, distinctive foods…
Of course, we must not forget gifts. We cogitate about them, agonize about them, shop for them, wrap them, and mutually exchange them, hoping that we got it right this year and the recipient won’t once more thank us profusely and sequester said item in the back of a drawer, never to be seen again.
Somewhere along the way, tribal instincts entered the picture. They included their own interpretation of how the celebrants should think and behave. Ritualism evolved. Boiled down to their respective essence, however, each is about the same, just with different window dressing. Nevertheless, individual actors or groups are positive that their particular spin is the right way, the only way.
Well, you know what happens in such situations: they devolve into “my way or the highway.” Bad behaviors arise like anger, rivalry, ostracism, violence, and wars simply because someone or a collection of someones has to prove that my variation on a theme is better than your variation on a theme.
We see this on personal levels, global levels, and everything in between. One’s ideas, beliefs, views, goals, lifestyle, blah, blah, blah are viewed as good, and anyone who opposes them is considered bad. Why do we as the highest level creatures on earth have to devolve into such grubby little characters? What’s the big deal, anyhow?
Rodney King, an average guy who most people never heard of, gained instant fame in 1991 after he was beaten by police officers following a high speed chase in connection with his arrest for drunk driving. The whole thing was caught on video, making him a celebrity. Subsequently, he questioned publicly why people can’t get along.
I ponder like Rodney. Why must everything be a competition? Why must it all turn into a cat fight? Why do we end up killing each other, literally and figuratively? Are we fated to that end; is it in our DNA; is there no other way we can behave?
I don’t have answers, only questions. One final one: Don’t you all just get tired of it already?
Life Has No Reverse Gear (12-13-20)
The 11th century Persian philosopher, mathematician, astronomer, and poet Omar Khayyam wrote a haunting and fateful observation. You may have encountered it sometime during your education, but it bears repeating: The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Yes, mankind figured out even a thousand years ago that the cog of life moves in only one direction: forward. That bit of wisdom is as true today as in Omar’s time. Once you have acted, you can’t un-act. No matter how much you rail, beat your chest, pray, or promise, an act or failure to act at any given instant cannot be undone.
How often have we wanted to step back just a moment, five minutes, an hour, a day… to reverse our chosen direction? It’s happened to all of us. You can’t get through life without occasional stumbles.
It happened to me recently pertaining to the publishing of my new book. Only after it was published did I learn that I could have gotten a Library of Congress Control Number. Their hard-and-fast rule, however, is that it must be obtained before the book is published. I had never even heard of such a number and the benefits it might bring.
I beat myself up over that, conjuring up all sorts of machinations to step back in time. None worked, and each made the situation more convoluted. After several sleep interrupted nights over my bad luck, I finally accepted that I would have to live with the consequences. Not long after, I learned about an unrelated opportunity that was soon to expire. I was able to take advantage of it just under the wire. In life, you can’t win ’em all.
The wins, of course, are exciting–the losses, not so much. So how do we survive the latter? First we must forgive ourselves for saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, or other failings. Next, we must be grateful that we do sometimes end up on the right side of time’s arrow. Finally, we must put it all to bed and move on.
I remember decades ago when my then husband took a course for several months to qualify for a one chance, specialty certificate in his profession with a deadline for completion. He attended classes at night after work for the prescribed months. When he had proof of passing the requirements, I watched as he filled out his application and placed it along with all the proper documentation into an addressed and stamped envelope. After a few weeks, he couldn’t understand why he had not received the coveted certificate.
I remember decades ago when my then husband had attended weekly classes for several months to qualify for a one chance, specialty certificate in his profession with a deadline for completion. He attended those classes at night after work for the prescribed months. When he had proof of passing the class requirements, he filled out his application with all the proper documents and placed them in an addressed and stamped envelope. After a few weeks, he couldn’t understand why he had not received the coveted certificate.
One evening as we were driving to visit friends, I was sitting on the passenger side and noticed the edge of an envelope sticking out from between the seats. I pulled it out and realized that it was his application. Needless to say, that revelation bummed him out completely and ruined not only our evening but his mood for the next many days.
It’s okay to be upset over situations like this for a short while, but we must get beyond it. I’ve written on this topic before. (See my blog of November 25, 2018: “Waiting for Upcycle Days“, and my blog of November 20, 2016: “You Win Some, You Lose Some.”) The only consolation is knowing that these types of things happen to everyone.
All We Can Do Is Approach (11-28-20)
Life is a series of infinitesimal steps toward goals. We might think that the goals are such things as obtaining a job, finding a mate, amassing trendy material goods, and the like. However, scratch the surface and we see that drivers such as those just mask our true aims. What we are really seeking are feelings such as satisfaction, purpose, contentment, joy, purpose, and all the others that make us feel good.
The reality is that such feelings can never be attained completely. We might touch the heights momentarily, but there will always be the pull from the polar opposite and all degrees along the continuum that lurk and intervene as we meander haltingly toward the ends we crave.
We’ve all heard the old adage: two steps forward, one step back. None of us can escape that in our less-than-perfect lives. If it’s any consolation, it is part of the human condition–all of us, not just you.
That shouldn’t stop you from your quest. Use your skills and talents to propel yourself in the direction you want to go. When you hit that roadblock, and you will, work around it, over it, or under it. Rest for a while if you must. Regenerate. Then, forge on. The trick is to continue moving toward your aspiration regardless of setbacks.
During your travels, you might change methods and even goals, but that’s okay. None are carved in stone. You may discover that buying a yacht will not make you any happier than volunteering at the local charity of your choice. The target in this example is happiness or contentment, and they can be pursued through many different paths.
Find the size that fits you. Try not to stray far from the direct path with enticements that hinder rather than help you in your journey. However, if you do wander, just take note of it and push yourself back onto the truest trajectory. You’ll approach closer and closer to what you desire as you travel the right route.
Make Your Bed (11-13-20)
I remember my mother telling me when I was a new bride that to make my house look picked up, even on stressful days with no time for such things, “always make sure that the table is cleared and your bed is made.” I’ve carried that bit of sage, household advice with me down through the decades.
To this day, as soon as I get up in the morning to start my day, the first thing I do is assemble the pillows, sheets, covers, and bedspread into a neat, ready-for-company appearance. I mean I do so before I go to the bathroom, before I have breakfast, before I take a shower–well, maybe after I go to the bathroom, but the point is that I know if I don’t attack that job ASAP, it won’t get done. After all these years, it’s automatic; I don’t even think about it. On the rare occasions when I’m so rushed that I don’t carry out that task first thing, the bed tends to stay unmade all day, just as I knew it would.
So, why is it important in this day of COVID-19 and sheltering-in-place to tidy up your abode? We’re not inviting company inside anyway, so what’s the big deal; no one is going to see it?
The big deal is for our own psychological well-being. Those who live in a disorderly, unkempt manner are more prone to feeling down and depressed. We must do all we can in our isolation to keep our spirits up; we must be self-motivating. Maintaining a routine and having expectations of ourselves helps to that end.
Yes, do it for Numero Uno (practicing my Spanish here). You must work to feel good about yourself and your life. You must survive and thrive in these trying times.
Make a list if it helps so you will remember your daily routine, and follow it! Gather up those clothes strewn around on the floor from the night before, clear the table of yesterday’s dirty dishes, and make your bed rápido! (I'm on an Español roll.) Better yet, don’t leave the mess in the first place. Along with that, clean your house, apartment, trailer, cave, or wherever you reside: vacuum, dust, wash floors and countertops… If it doesn’t improve your mindset, at least it will provide you with a little free exercise.
Thanks, Mom!
Reading Aloud (10-31-20)
My son has been reading bedtime stories to his three children since they were infants. It is still a nighttime tradition even though the kids are now ages thirteen, ten, and seven. The oldest has aged out but still occasionally participates. The middle child is close to being too old, but she hangs on because she knows how much Daddy loves it. And, of course, the youngest continues to be enthralled. It’s their special time with their father which they will remember all their lives.
Reading aloud to others is a beautiful interaction which is enjoyed by each one in the group whether you are the reader or listener. The exclusively auditory experience of hearing a story offers a different sensation than one including visuals and can be just as gratifying; it leaves more to the imagination. Of course, pictures are fun and included in many books, especially those for young children.
An enjoyable grandparent/grandchildren interaction is to read out loud to your grandsons and granddaughters. Then, you can reverse it and be their appreciative audience as they show off their reading skills to you.
Books on tape have become very popular. We can “read” books while we’re driving, falling asleep, or even if we’re visually impaired. We can also partake of the drama as interpreted by the voice actor.
Various religions have ceremonial observances where chosen members of the congregation read aloud in turn as part of the service. Particular times or sections of the text may be recited by the assembly as a group exercise.
Poetry reading is often done verbally for one listener or a roomful. Book authors give talks to promote their latest work, and they usually narrate passages to whet the appetite of prospective buyers.
Play reading clubs and groups have sprung up in recent years. It’s a fun evening at the chosen member’s home with each person vocalizing their part. The act breaks are times for refreshments, often of the pot-luck persuasion.
During this time of Covid 19 and the increase in Zoom use to replace in-person gatherings, my drama club has chosen plays to perform via that online platform. We’re each contained in our small Zoom boxes arranged orderly on the computer monitor. Everyone has a script, and we play our parts with enthusiasm using our acting skills.
Try your hand at reading out loud whether to family members, friends, club attendees or at religious gatherings. It’s a social way to interact in a low cost experience which is mutually satisfying to all.
Patience or the Lack Thereof (10-16-20)
Ah, patience. A little research finds it first mentioned as a virtue (aka moral excellence) by an ancient Roman poet, Aurelius Prudentius Clemens, in the fifth century. Subsequently, others took it up such as in the narrative poem, Piers Plowman, thought to have been written in the 1300s by William Langland. Later that same century, Geoffrey Chaucer in the Canterbury Tales had something to say about it: "Patience is a high virtue... but virtue can hurt you."
Some seem to possess more of it and some less. I don’t think a lot was parceled out to me upon my birth. However, as I age, someone seems to be slowly siphoning off what little I started with.
It’s hard to stand in line for my turn; it’s hard to sit in my car at a traffic signal which never seems to nod in my direction; it’s hard to deal with people who seem to be blabbering inanities. I’ve displayed my askew glare and stomped out of stores where I had to wait my turn in the queue just to ask an employee where to find an item, hustling back to my car and driving home so I could calm down.
Our life has become so complex and so jostled by the sheer number of human beings on the earth that the competition for absolutely everything is intense. Here's a typical scenario that happens on the telephone extrapolated from the earlier brick and mortar example:
You call your target, wade through an interminable menu, and finally speak to a live human, all just to be told that you’re not at the right place whereupon you are transferred elsewhere. Of course, the elsewhere requires another menu, another wait, and yet again another staff member who may pass you off to someone else. This game frequently becomes a cycle where you end up back at the first employee. Truth be told, I'm guilty of the telephone equivalent of the aforementioned "stomping out of the store." I've been known to slam down the proverbial receiver, at least in my head. In reality, I now push the off button on my cell phone extra hard--that'll show 'em!
Is it me or is this one more affliction brought on by the aging process? I envy those who seem to be able to placidly wait their turn. It seems that the delay for so many gratifications in our daily activities has become longer and longer, or is it that I have become more and more impatient? I suspect it’s a combination of both.
Where can I go to get a re-charge of patience? I need more than I have to cope with the reality of today's planet. On the other hand, Chaucer seems to think that particular virtue falls into a category that can be harmful. Maybe he's onto something. Thanks, Geoff. Seems I've been taking care of myself all along.
Coming Out of Your Shell (10-1-20)
Shells are not just for turtles, mollusks, and their brethren to inhabit. Conversely, not only birds, reptiles, and their kin break out of shells. Humans do both, although not with the tangible kind as in the aforementioned examples.
Many people plaster on a false face to conceal their feelings or absence of them. That’s right, we hide in our invisible shells. Fortunately, we can alight from them, also.
When life becomes too much to bear, we find solace in retreating behind a barrier to protect ourselves from further onslaught, pressure, and the other stresses we experience. However, if we continue in that mode for too long, it becomes a lifestyle. In so many cases, we drag such behavior along from childhood when we hadn’t developed the ability to cope with rejection, humiliation, disappointment, distress, and the other pain caused by life’s hardships or fellow humans.
The problem is that once we enter the protective housing created in our minds, it can take years to emerge. Shy, inhibited individuals dream of being able to be forthcoming and take on all challengers rather than slinking away as has been their modus operandi for years. Those who go along to get along struggle to find their voice. Even those who seem so confident and in control strive to let go of that facade and be themselves, if they can figure out what that is.
Shells are neither good nor bad, but they can be constructive or destructive. Make your shell work for you. Be aware of it, and use it in a manner to your benefit. Retreat into it when you need protection and a breather. Cast it off when you feel stronger and can face what life throws your way. The trick is to store your shell in a safe place to pick up or lay down as the need arises.
Just Me and My Bonsai (September 17, 2020)
My cousins, Gail and her husband Paul, visited me some months ago and brought me a lovely bonsai plant as a house gift. You can see my reflection in the window as I’m taking a picture of my new darling after having just given it a haircut. Yes, miscellaneous shoots were breaking out of its manicured silhouette and upsetting the continuity of the design.
Learning to care for this newest edition to my plant housemates has centered my focus. Nothing else can occupy my mind while I’m at my bonsai tasks. (See my blog of April 15, 2019, “Outfoxed by a Plant,” about another of my green, earthbound friends.)
Focusing on anything has that effect. The chosen object of intense immersion can be a pet, another human, a hobby, writing a book, painting a picture, or anything else that occupies you completely. It forces you to concentrate for that block of time on only one thing, holding back all the other stimuli of the world vying for your time. Multi-tasking can be kept at bay for a little longer.
In the case the flora of the earth, the study and care of them is a therapeutic endeavor. Many people find gardening to be calming and healing. If you have the space for it, you might try planting a variety of vegetables, flowers, and other plants that you enjoy. The act of tilling the soil, mixing in the fertilizer, laying down the seeds or saplings, weeding, watering, harvesting, and all the rest can be consuming yet enjoyable.
When small sprouts start to shoot up, there’s a sense of fulfillment in having contributed to the birth of a living thing. Consuming your own veggie efforts or serving them to friends makes you a fertility god or goddess, partaking in and offering nature’s bounty. My friend, Jane, often shares the yield from her garden plot with those she encounters including service personnel in the retirement community where we both live. The trunk of her car contains numerous bags for the offerings along with her gardening tools–always ready just in case.
Getting involved with plants can be as simple and inexpensive as a small pot on your table or window sill containing a cutting from a friend’s plant. You can graduate to more complex dealings if you wish–maybe even planting, training, and caring for a bonsai.
Try developing your own “green thumb.” It can be a gratifying pursuit, which will bring you satisfaction and offer a periodic respite from more demanding concerns.
Too Many Decisions (September 3, 2020)
Our lives have become constrained by too many decisions we are called upon to make every day just to get through it. It encompasses everything from what to eat for breakfast to what to put on for bed. That, of course, spills over outside of the home.
Life didn’t used to be this complicated. When you wanted to buy something, there were usually one or two choices, maybe three. Now, there are dozens, each with its own features.
When we want to buy a car, we need to consider so many bells and whistles that come or do not come with it. It seems that these days we must decide whether to have our air conditioned just so; our derriere warmed by the seat; our music delivered by various means; our roof able to admit fresh air, sunlight, or none of these; our…
When I last went grocery shopping, product labels demanded constant adjudications from me: low-fat, low sugar, no artificial sweetener, yes artificial sweetener, low sodium, organic, and on and on. The meat, produce, dairy, bakery, and household sections were just as bad.
“I don’t care,” I screamed back. “Just give me a jar of mayonnaise!”
I was wasted by the time I arrived at the checkout stand. I perked up when I saw my favorite box boy, a sweet, young man who had been working there for years.
“Hi Chad,” I greeted him.
He smiled and responded, “paper or plastic.” That was the last straw! I considered jumping ten feet in the air and landing on his throat but was constrained by my decades of socially acceptable behavior training. After all, those three words made up the bulk of his on-the-job conversation. Who was I to interfere with his brief moment of importance? So, I gave Chad a pass.
I need a fairy god-decider in my life. However, I know such a wish is fraught with potential problems; my official decider could become an authoritarian and morph into my fairy god-dictator. No, I don’t want that. What I want is a decider who will decide for me when I decide I want him to decide, and who will melt into the background when I decide that, also. If such a being or spirit exists, I’m unaware of it. Looks like I’ll just have to do it myself, like usual. But, right now, I need a nap–groan.
A Reason to Be Alive (August 20, 2020)
What is your reason to be alive? We all need one. It’s what motivates us to keep going, even when we’re down, depressed, and life is just a bummer.
Think about the reasons that are significant in your life to make you want to keep going. Are you a member of a family to which you contribute emotionally, psychologically, financially, or in a myriad of other ways? Are you part of a community to which you offer your time and effort? Do you create in some manner that benefits society as a whole such as art or writing to name a few from a long list?
Some years ago, a friend became suicidal, convinced that she was worthless. Her family, concerned for her welfare, arranged a psychological intervention facilitated by a therapist. With their loved one present, each gave a speech as to how she had impacted and enhanced their life. It was a very positive and powerful event and was successful in its goal. The beneficiary is functioning today as a respected member of her town.
“It’s a Wonderful Life,” a movie made in 1946, is traditionally shown on television every year around the winter holiday season. The plotline follows a man who feels overwhelmed with his responsibilities and obligations. After working for many years at a job he dislikes and which caused him to give up his dreams for the sake of his family and community, he has become discouraged and is contemplating suicide. An angel shows him how the town and its people would have turned out if he’d never been born, and he comes to realize that he has meant a lot to so many.
We probably won’t have an angel to point out our meaningful acts. Be your own angel and give some careful thought to that consideration. Almost everyone has someone or many ones who would mourn us if we died or would be lacking if we hadn’t been born. Each of us does make an impact.
Take an accounting of what you’ve contributed. Are there friends, family members, peers and such who value you? Can you allow yourself to accept that you have merit?
Minis and Me (August 6, 2020)
About eight years ago, I decided I needed more horses in my life, although I’d never had much to do with them. I remember a few times as a girl going to a stable and riding a horse, hanging onto the saddle horn for dear life. When I reached seniorhood, I realized so many members of the equine persuasion are calm, gentle, and take life as it comes. I definitely wanted more involvement with that description and philosophy.
I began going with a like-minded friend to a local stable where we rented horses and rode on wilderness trails led by a guide. My brand of horseback riding was a lot closer to horseback walking, but hey, I was sitting on top with no mishaps requiring stitches or splints and moving forward on a magnificent beast in pristine nature. What more could I want?
Since my revelation, I have vacationed twice at dude ranches, the first in Montana and then in Wyoming, where horseback riding was one of the main activities. (See my blog post about that experience: "Meandering" https://https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2015/09//2015/09/.) At the latter, I ventured out on my assigned steed, Bacon, twice a day for seven days in a row, about three hours each stint. I couldn’t seem to get enough.
In the last several years, my access to horses has dropped way off. Recently, I heard about a volunteer opportunity to help feed two mini-horses. Wow, would someone really let me do that? I grabbed my phone and dialed the magic number.
"Oh, thanks for calling. Yes, we definitely need help. I’ll meet you at the paddock this afternoon at 4:00 pm and show you the routine," said the respondent on the other end of the line.
I set three alarms to remind me of the appointment lest I become engrossed in something and forget, which I've been known to do these days. I arrived at the agreed upon location at 3:45 pm.
I met the horsewoman who introduced me to Buzz and Spot, ages 15 and 16 years respectively, each weighing in at around 160 pounds. They were too cute! Buzz was brown, and Spot was--well, spotted, of course. Each stood about as high as my waist. They were as curious about me as I was about them. Both approached to check me out, and Spot was gracious enough to sniff my hand and give me his approval. Yes, he would allow me to minister to him.
Google provided me with a primer about miniature horses: they are no taller than 38 inches and have a variety of coat colors and patterns. They are gentle (my kind of horse), easily trained, and can pull up to four times their own weight. Minis are descended from Shetland ponies, a breed originating in the Shetland Isles off northern Scotland. They were first developed in Europe in the 1600s and are the result of selective breeding over the centuries. They were often the pets of royalty and were used in coal mines in both Europe and the United States until the mid 1900s.
I’m stimulated by my new volunteer job as a mini-horse wrangler, and I consider it a privilege to be around such special animals. Even during COVID-19, we can find things that delight us. Check out opportunities as you stumble upon them. Better yet, figure out an enticing pastime for yourself, seek it out, and get involved. Grab something fulfilling and wrangle it into your life.
How to Look at a Tree (July 23, 2020)
Recipes give us instructions: do this or do that. They are most often thought of as dealing with food preparation: measure, add, mix, beat, pour, bake, etc. When you’re done, you have a creation that nourishes the body. I’ve printed such an offering in this forum before. (See my blog post of December 22, 2014: What Do You Do When the Happy Holidays Aren’t So Happy?) However, today’s entry is to nourish the soul.
During COVID-19 where our activities have been significantly curtailed, we should spend more time surveying nature to pump up our emotional well-being. So, I’m going to give you a recipe on how to really look at a tree. Although recipes use the command form of verbs, my commands are merely suggestions. Try them out if you wish or ignore them at your loss.
Pick any tree wherever you are. Slowly scan it up and down. Notice the symmetry, the irregularities, the trunk and branches, the leaves or lack of them. What are the characteristics that makes this tree different from any other tree? Is it healthy and vibrant or sickly and withering? Watch the effect of the wind on your tree. Are the branches still or bobbing up and down; are the leaves rustling gently or thrashing wildly?
What color is the trunk: brown, tan, green, gray or alabaster? Is the surface flat, knobby, ridged, striated or dappled? Does it have galls: abnormal growths from its reaction to parasites? What does the bark look like? Is it straight and even or twisted and gnarly, tight or peeling off?
Do the branches begin closer to the ground or higher up on the tree? How far out do they extend? Does the tree have flowers? What size, shape, pigmentation, and scent describe them? What kind of fruit does it produce–something edible for humans or animals, a complex cone, or a puny pod only suitable to house seeds for future generations?
Examine the leaves carefully–notice their form, texture and hue. They might be long needles, wide plates, or all sorts in-between. Are they uniform or rough? Are their edges continuous or undulating with peaks and valleys? Are they large, small, rounded, pointed, a single configuration, or complex and fern-like? Are the colors the green of spring; the reds, yellows, and oranges of autumn; or the brown of decay?
Move your eyes to the top. Bore deeply into the canopy. What is hiding in the tree? Are airborne dwellers flying to and fro or landing on branches or nests? Some dress up in colorful costumes that delight. Are squirrels working the trunk and its extensions? Is a neighbor’s cat peering at you from on high? Is the kid from across the street nestled in a fork, legs dangling on either side?
It’s okay to get up close and personal with your tree. Touching is allowed and even hugging if you’re so disposed. What is the sensation on your fingertips or cheek–rough, smooth, or somewhere in-between? Feel the leaves; do they prick you or are they friendly?
Use your other senses. Listen for a moment. Do you hear the birds you spotted? What do they sound like? Pay attention to their different colors, sizes, beaks, and calls. Maybe you can only experience them auditorily; they can be elusive, hiding from all creatures including the human kind. What is the smell you’re experiencing? Trees such as pine let you know you’re near through their spirited scent even before you see them.
Trees are your friends. Get lost in your new friends. Marvel at the wonder of them. During coronavirus days, trees can provide you with hours of free entertainment not to mention shade. Study them carefully as you stroll around your community or from your window while huddling inside staying safe and alive.
Bargaining during a Pandemic (July 9, 2020)
At the beginning of the current shelter-in-place lifestyle, some coveted items became inordinately expensive and hard to find. Who would’ve thought that the dilemma of how to wipe one’s (fill in the blank) would become a major focus during lockdown time? A few months ago, my son saw a sign in a window on the block where he lives: "Toilet Paper for Sale"
single ply: $10 per roll
double ply: $20 per roll
I heard about a store that had been enticing shoppers with the promise of a free roll of toilet paper with every purchase over $50. However, they failed to specify if it was single or double ply—an important tidbit to know for the potential resale market. Regardless of the TP issue, good deals are still to be had during this twilight zone in which we find ourselves.
Don’t let your bargaining chops become extinct just because you’re stuck in the house for months on end. Several weeks ago, my old dryer died (FYI not from the COVID-19 virus, in case you were wondering), and I had to buy a new one. I jumped on Google to search for dryers in various stories, honing in on a selection that would best suit my needs. I finally decided on an appropriate candidate from Best Buy.
I called and spoke to a staff member who told me that particular model was out of stock. The next model up was an additional $150.
“But Friedman's Appliances is selling that same deluxe model for only $499,” I informed him from my extensive research.
“OK, we can match that,” he acquiesced without a moment's delay.
With a groan, the sluggish gears in my mind started rotating.
“You know, usually when a customer finds a better price at another store, the first store will not only meet that price but will also take an additional ten percent off.”
My adversary laughed.
“I’ll tell you what. We'll include hauling your old dryer away for free, and we'll throw in the auxiliary kit (connection hose and a few other necessaries) for free, too.”
Well, I grabbed that deal. I mean, even Friedman's wasn’t offering those perks.
Yes, your old talents may seem rusty from lack of use. However, it’s like riding a bicycle or (fill in the blank) when you haven’t done it in years. The skill is only lying dormant waiting for you to pick it right back up.
Zoom Nightmares (June 25, 2020)
I've been having Zoom nightmares. They're not the waking up screaming kind. They're the waking up wrung out kind. I'm right back to the type of anxiety dreams I had in college. A recurring one was having to take a final exam only to find I couldn't locate the place where it was being held. Running between rows of buildings, up and down staircases, and in and out of rooms with time ticking away, I'd wake up agitated and distraught. Of course, I was unable to fall back to sleep
Today, during our Covid 19, shelter-in-place way of life, many of us have discovered online conferencing sites such as Zoom. We're using them as a way to connect socially while we are sequestered in our homes. I wrote about it recently (see my blog dated May 13, 2020, "Lockdown Fatigue.") At that time, I was thick into Zoom, attending some meetings by invitation and hosting others after studying tutorials on how to do so. Some attendees to my meetings gave me labels: Zoom Czar, Zoom Zombie, or Boomer Zoomer.
It got to the point where I had to keep a detailed calendar of my Zoom meetings along with notes pertaining to each one. Every morning, I perused the appropriate page, preparing myself for my upcoming Zoom day.
Then it happened: I forgot to attend a meeting I was hosting. It just slipped my mind. I apologized to the other group members when I finally realized it and logged on a half hour late. Everyone was very forgiving, but I still beat myself up.
So, I started leaving notes around the house in the morning to remind me of the Zoom meetings I had scheduled for that day. There were post-its stuck to my computer screen, a scratch paper note on the table where I ate meals, and missives in other places I might stroll by during the intervening time.
One day, I logged into a Zoom meeting I had set up, and no one else joined me. I started getting emails and phone calls from members who couldn't access the meeting with the information I had sent them. As the clock was running down on our allotted time and I was getting more and more stressed out, I deleted the scheduled meeting, created a new one, and emailed the invitation to the participants. Twenty minutes into the session, we all finally appeared in Zoom's little screen boxes ready to boogie. Again I was contrite and again was forgiven.
It seems I'm not the only one who is struggling with Zoom commitments and responsibilities. I heard about another stumbler who was supposed to teach a class on Zoom, for pay, and forgot to show up. My lapses paled in comparison.
The sad truth is that Zoom is failing me. Its attendant anxiety is affecting my sleep quality. I can't seem to handle the emotional pressure this virtual taskmaster is putting on me. I need a vacation from Zoom! I'll have to seek another go-to activity to occupy my hours and hours of quarantine time--sigh.
Under the Covers (June 11, 2020)
In this time of Covid 19, shelter in place, rising unemployment, and social unrest, it’s easy to get into the habit of staying indoors for long periods of time. However, such behavior becomes isolating. We humans are symbiotic creatures and need the stimulation of others. Real time connectivity with folks is gratifying.
Yes, we can chat and see one another via technology using websites such as Zoom, Skype, and more. However, they can’t replace close, personal contact. There is just something about being together in actual proximity which nourishes and nurtures.
Some devolve into escaping under the covers. A variation of that is delaying or even forgoing personal hygiene and opting to pad around the house all day in pajamas, nightgown, underwear, or whatever you wear or don’t wear to sleep in. Maybe you begin to let the dirty dishes and laundry pile up and generally start to neglect basic household chores.
That is not the best course of action for optimum, mental well-being. It can lead to depression. Maintaining our usual routine as much as possible such as getting dressed in street clothing alters our mindset. It enables us to segue seamlessly from rest mode to action mode.
I remember the adjustment I had to make decades ago when I began a special telecommuting program of working at home with a computer just at the threshold of what is now a way of life on a part-time or full time basis for almost half of American workers. Those first few weeks before I got my groove, I would open my computer prior to changing into daytime clothing only to find myself hours later with eyes glued to the screen still wearing a robe and pj’s. One telecommuting co-worker actually used to get dressed and walk out of the front door as though on his way to the office. He would stroll around the block and return to his home to commence his job, but his perspective had changed.
During this time of multiple crises with their resultant additional hours of within-four-walls, solitary time, we must try to maintain some semblance of normalcy. So, get up at a reasonable hour, make your bed, bathe/shave/brush, get dressed as though you are going out and about, and actually do so for exercise and a change of focus. It will perk up your spirits and help you to weather this strange time we’re currently living in.
Missing the Little Things (May 27, 2020)
There are so many things I miss in this time of lockdown over Covid 19 concerns. Being inside for hours and days at a time is getting old. Yes, we're all getting crabby, irritable, and downright testy. We want to go out and about, further than permitted by walks or other means of bodily transportation (bicycles, skateboards, golf carts, or--yikes--cars) limited to minimal distances abutting our own abodes. We want to travel to distant lands, domestic or international, in the flesh, not as armchair adventurers. We want to connect with our loved ones in person, not virtually.
I miss hugging my son. Pre-coronavirus, he used to visit me each weekend for our alone time apart from his wife and children (my adorable grandchildren). Since the shelter-in-place order, we'd been limited to telephone and FaceTime connection. Interaction via technology is fine temporarily but doesn't hack it in the long run. I miss hanging out with him in person.
"Maybe you could come over, and we'll sit outside six feet or even ten feet apart and just chat. We can wear masks, too."
"Mom, I could be a carrier without even knowing it. I'd never forgive myself if I passed the virus onto you."
Son finally hit upon an idea which we've tried out a few times with success. He sits outside on my patio next to my sliding glass doors. I sit in the house on the other side of said doors, and we're able to look at each other. As the doors have to remain shut to act as a virus barrier, it cuts down on auditory communication. So, we talk to each other on our telephones in place of shouting. We press palms together with the glass in between, like an inmate and visitor in jail. Hey, at this stage, I'll take whatever I can get. At least it's great material for a blog.
I've been ordering my food from online delivery services, adhering to the entreaties of my son to stay home. Now, I salivate when I think of going to the market to purchase sustenance. What used to be a chore has turned into a coveted dream. I envy my friends who make forays to the grocery store.
I long to push a shopping cart down those interminable aisles; compare prices of different brands; and test the weight of two pieces of produce, one in each hand, pondering which is heaviest and the better deal if they are priced by the piece, bunch, package, carton... I yearn to hunt for hidden dents in cans; inspect bananas for bruises; toss my own cloth bags onto the checkout conveyor belt to avoid bag charges and contribute to saving trees; and eye the cash register for inaccuracies.
Ah, the little things. How I miss them.
Lockdown Fatigue (May 13, 2020)
In this time of sequestering, some are bored and others are inventive. I was out and about on my daily walk in my retirement community--masked and six feet apart from others, of course--and came upon some folks with innovative ideas of what to do during this strange time of social distancing, hyper-sanitizing, and lockdowns.
A woman was exercising to her reflection in the glass entry doors of a now closed meeting center. What a neat way to stay in shape--fun, cheap, and creative.
I continued on and came upon a man practicing fly fishing on the lawn near a recreation area. He was getting some sun, some exercise, and some practice for when he can return to his hobby.
Others cloister inside their homes, complaining to whomever will listen about their exasperation and bad fortune. Yes, that's one method of coping. I'm guessing it's the path those folks have taken for a long time, probably honed over decades.
To tell you the truth, the rest of us don't want to hear it. It is hard enough to remain upbeat and positive during these stressful times living in our strange new world alongside a raging coronavirus. We're all tired of sheltering in place, and it's nerve-racking for everyone trying to figure out where the culprit is hiding, how to avoid it, and methods to slay it. However, some of us are trying hard to keep going--trying to make the best of it and to survive. Excessive bellyaching only pulls us down with you.
Find something that you can share with your community instead of wasting your time griping. One friend is sewing masks which she gives away. Another takes beautiful photographs of plants and animals around the neighborhood and emails them to everyone she knows. Still another is taking food orders from those in her circle, ordering online for home delivery, and notifying everyone when to pick up their purchases from her garage. I am organizing Zoom get-togethers and parties.
Zoom has become the go-to, online, meeting forum. I bit the bullet, hunkered down in front of my computer, and read one tutorial after another to learn how to use it. Then, I enlisted others in my sphere of friends and class members as practice partners to try it out and improve my skills.
I've been facilitating groups on Zoom to share stories, anecdotes, passages from books, and various topics of interest. I've, also, been attending clubs and classes that formerly met in-person which are now meeting on Zoom. If you're not adept with the computer, then scout around and find someone who is so you can become a "guest" in their Zoom meeting rather than a "host" as I am. You don't even need a computer; you can participate in a Zoom meeting by just talking on your telephone.
One thing that might help to buoy your spirits is to really accept our current state but trust that it will end and we'll get back to some sort of normal. It may not be the normal we were used to just a few months ago, but probably a vaccine or treatment will be developed eventually or Covid 19 will play itself out with a reduced herd of susceptible victims, and we'll be able to come out of hibernation. In the meantime, figure out a way to adapt. It can be done.
The Olden Days (April 29, 2020)
I was going through my credit card statement from a few months ago and matching my receipts against the entries. Many were from restaurants I frequented, stores I depended upon, and movies and theaters I attended. How long ago that life seems now.
I took those things for granted. I never thought twice or thrice about making plans with friends to dine out. We all had our favs, and it was fun to organize a get-together in one of them.
I love theater and often attend, but usually it doesn’t average more than once a month or longer. My credit card statement reminded me that because of conflicting dates, I ended up attending plays at two different theaters with the same friend just one week apart. Oh well, we had decided to go for it as we were hot to see both performances.
That was before anyone suspected that our collective lives would change abruptly from free ranging spirits to inmates of our abodes with an indeterminate sentence. Yes, restaurants, theater and movie attendance, and shopping except for food and medicine have become the olden days. We usually think of such times with affection and nostalgia as a memory of long ago when life was better. With the speed that things are changing in the eye of the Covid 19 hurricane, even yesterday was the olden days.
Will we ever get back to those times we reminisce about so fondly? Maybe, but they will probably look different. Restaurants, theaters, ride-sharing services and the like that were our staples may have gone out of business for lack of customers to sustain the thin margins they depended upon to survive.
Virtual services and contacts have increased in popularity since our quarantine way of life began. Websites such as Zoom at least allow us to meet online and interact to a degree. Missing from such electronic interfaces are hugs, kisses, pats on the back, and handshakes. Such human contact is vital for our well-being. Our sense of touch needs stimulation to help keep us healthy. I’ve written before in this forum about the importance of touch. Click here (and scroll down) to read my blog: “The Power of Touch,” dated February 4, 2016; and here to read “Hugs,” dated February 17, 2018.
We must do our part to vanquish this coronavirus. The faster we slay it as a group, the sooner we’ll be back to the gratifying, real contact, not the virtual kind.
Irises and Viruses (April 15, 2020)
Mother Nature has powers that people can only dream about. She may create exquisite beauty in the form of an iris or rain down havoc as the world's creatures huddle in fear of the viruses she slings.
With all our war weapons, economic manipulations, and every other form of control that mankind has developed to hobble enemies, it pails by orders of magnitude to the sorcery Mother Nature can work. At times such as these as we face a threat to millions, we are humbled in the face of such dominion.
MN has currently unleashed the coronavirus to thin the herd. There are simply too many of us to be sustained by the earth's resources. We humans are befouling nature, contributing to global warming, causing extinction of other species, blowing each other up, and generally striving to realize our collective demise.
Will we forget today's lessons as soon as things are back to "normal"? Will we resume squabbling with each other? Or, can our current crisis teach us anything? If history is an example, the answer is likely "no." If we look back on the great global tragedies of the centuries: wars, famine, natural disasters, and pandemics, we see that subsequent generations do forget, deny, or ignore.
Why are humans like that? Must the most twisted of us always rise to the top to lead us over the edge of the cliff? Is it in our nature to always devolve into a "Lord of the Flies" mentality?
Of course, today's Covid 19 crisis could have been lessened to a significant degree by advanced planning, early action, and quick response. None of those things have happened to a sufficient enough degree to forestall the severity which is only increasing.
What can we do? Each of us is only one tiny cog in a sea of over seven billion of our kind. Are we completely powerless? No. We must do our part. Don't go out and about other than for essential services. Partying with friends is not in that category. Stay at home even if you are bored, feel fine, figure it can't happen to you, or are sure you won't pass the virus along to others. You are not special, privileged or entitled to ignore the recommendation of experts on how we should proceed as a herd to defeat or at least lesson this viral infliction.
Think as the hunters and gatherers did when they lived off the land and made do with what they had. A few weeks ago, I read a story about a young mother who was panicky because her store had sold out of disposable diapers. Now is the time for adaptation and problem solving, folks, not whining. To that puzzled mother: rip up old sheets or towels and use them as diapers fastened with safety pins rather than peel and stick tabs. Then, rewash them just as your grandmother did before the invention of the disposable type--amazing!
Count yourself lucky to live in a first world country with resources to attack this crisis, and do your part to assist.
Out and About in the Time of Covid 19 (March 31, 2020)
We're in the midst of a mandate to shelter in place issued by our California governor. It's an attempt to cripple the spread of the coronavirus gripping the world and increasing rapidly in my state. I'm trying to do my part, especially since I'm in a highly vulnerable category, age wise. I don't feel vulnerable; I'm energetic and in good physical condition. However, Gov and my son don't agree with me.
"Stay inside, Mom," --my son's constant refrain.
"But, I'll just visit some friends, and I promise we'll stay outside and stand six feet apart."
"Gawd, you're killing me, Mom."
So, in the spirit of not wanting to add to my son's stress over concern for himself and his wife and children (my adorable grandchildren), I'm sheltering in place. Today, after four days inside of my walls which I'm crawling by now, I decided to go for a solo hike in a patch of wilderness that borders my retirement community.
I meandered an isolated route to my destination, careful to avoid other signs of animal life, human or otherwise. Soon, I happened upon some marvelous bits of nature I'm usually too busy to pay much attention to. A cluster of large mushrooms was growing out of an old root which had broken the surface of the ground. How strange and fascinating they were.
As I traversed a dirt path, I looked down at my feet and discovered a sprinkling of that ubiquitous genus: little purple flower. How perky they looked against the hardscrabble ground.
Something moved. What was it? I stared and was stared at in return. Two deer were hunkered down in the shade under a majestic oak tree, ears perked up, on guard lest I proved to be an enemy and they had to make a quick get-away.
“Hey guys, I’m harmless."
That didn’t seem to cut it. They remained steadfast, eyeing me carefully as I continued my ascent. I don’t blame them. In these trying times, who knows whom to trust.
More climbing, and I was getting winded. Never mind, it felt great to be outside in a pristine, undeveloped chunk of the world, no one else around, no sounds to distract me.
I crested the hill and came upon another shock of color--orange this time. Spring is here a riot of wild poppies insisted.
I dawdled, not wanting to return to the real world with its surreal dysfunction. Will we ever get through this? I must remember what a famous man once said: "This, too, shall pass." One final mantra to keep in mind which has served so many to cope with the demons that drive and control them: "One day at a time."
Living in a World on Lockdown (March 16, 2020)
These are stressful times; we are all sheltering in place to one degree or another. So many businesses have closed down that there’s no place to go, even if we wanted to. People are frightened of the unknown and don’t know what to do. Some are hoarding supplies “just in case.” Others are thinking about how to “get out of Dodge,” but there’s no place to run.
We top-of-the-heap humans are being bested by a microscopic, biological agent which has knocked us to our knees: a coronavirus labeled Covid 19. Viruses, those little devils, consist of molecules including proteins, nucleic acids, lipids, and carbohydrates, and are not considered to be alive as they can’t survive on their own. They must enter a living cell of a host in order to be able to multiply. Once inside, they go on to rapidly produce thousands of identical copies of themselves, causing various significant diseases in living things: humans, animals, and plants.
So, what can we do to cope with something as amorphous and seemingly beyond our control as a virus? Can we still find some joy, excitement, and purpose in the current, distressing epoch? Of course we can.
The first thing is to follow the sensible advice of the major health organizations such as frequent hand washing, avoidance of large gatherings of people, and covering our coughs and sneezes to protect others. Then, we must continue with our lives instead of stressing about the “what ifs” we can’t control.
Keep the current situation in perspective. Circumstances are unpredictable in the future, but that usually doesn’t stop us from moving forward. We could fixate on potential events such as taking a fall; being in an automobile accident; and on and on which would turn us all into agoraphobics if we let them. Instead, most of us walk carefully and maybe use an assistive device such as a cane or walker to lessen the chance of falling; we still drive or ride in cars, but with caution.
Grappling with the Covid 19 virus should be no different. Exercise the recommended precautions and continue with your life with a few adjustments. For example, you might spend more time outside in nature instead of inside as part of a large crowd. If you don’t have access to sprawling, wilderness areas, go outdoors and look around. Marvel at the living dinosaurs still among us called birds. How often have you really studied the trees, bushes, and flowers in your own neighborhood? Even a simple dandelion is beautiful poking out of a crack in the concrete or sprouting from a lawn.
Take this time of isolation to enjoy the books and videos that are piling up, clean out the closets, repair clothing and other possessions, make important phone calls, and tackle the myriad other things you can add to the list. Make this and any time productive and uplifting, and follow the old adage: “turn a lemon into lemonade.”
Widgets for Sale (March 2, 2020)
Commerce has one goal--to sell its product. That is what advertising is all about. Unfortunately, it will use any means to make that goal a reality, including propaganda and appeals to our insecurities. The latter sends the message: be dissatisfied with what you are so you will buy my widget to fix it.
Let’s take for example the pathological focus on being young. There are huge amounts of advertising and products devoted to that end.
Someone sitting in a back room thinking about how to maximize profits figured out that aging is as inevitable as those old standbys: death and taxes, and it provides a steady, growing market. So, if youth is peddled to older folks as a must-have, then those in the "youth-business" can hawk their products to drive that dream. First they must create the idea that being young is the ideal and being old is bad: we are not attractive, desirable, or worthy unless we look young, dress young, and act young, emulating the models in the ads that they bombard us with all our waking hours. Their subliminal message: my widget will set you on the road to the Fountain of Youth which is the key to happiness, and it only costs $$$.
It's our own fault that we buy into this scam and blindly accept an artificially created reverence to youth which we feel we must chase at all costs. Do we even question such a postulate which is constantly being crammed down our collective gullets? Do we even ask ourselves, What’s so wonderful about being young? When is it okay to be okay about myself?
In a recent interview, 82-year-old actress Jane Fonda discussed her insecurities and admitted that self-acceptance has been difficult for her to this day. She claims that she has now sworn off cosmetic surgery which has been a part of her life for many years. How can a beautiful, successful, accomplished actress have such negative feelings about herself?
I remember my youth and especially my teenage years as a time of my life that was fraught with self-doubt, insecurity, and discontentment. True happiness and gratification have slowly crept up and grabbed me as I’ve aged. I can now look back at my "youth" and wave a fond farewell to a difficult chunk of time.
One of my blog readers emailed me some lines from a poem by the 14th century, Persian poet Hafez which should be savored like a cozy robe: "The way-station of old age is one to pass cleanly. Don't let the urgencies of youth stain the whiteness of your hair."
Tribal Elders (February 17, 2020)
What does it mean to be a tribal elder? Today, we call them senior citizens. However, they are the same block of people–the long-lived inhabitants of a society. If we examine primitive tribes from civilizations past, and even those still existing, we see that it was the older members who were revered and sought after for advice and words of wisdom as to how to comport oneself and thrive. Why is that?
The answer is simple yet complex. As we age, we amass more and more life experiences. Human beings use their resultant skills to inform future behavior. Insight and judgment are part of the stew: if we burn our hand on the stove, we learn not to put it there again.
Once folks have accumulated enough general proficiency, most become wise. Wisdom, of course, takes many forms and passes through the filter of the individual and their unique life experiences. Nevertheless, on certain basic issues, those paths often lead to similar endings.
Seniors are all tribal elders. We are cast into that role by the passage of time, whether we like it or not. We have a responsibility to generations that come after us to hold our role sacred and fulfill it to the best of our ability. Petty things like personal interest or bias may blemish the advice of some tribal elders, and their consensus may skew in the direction of one extreme or another at any given time. However, the group dynamic in most cases functions to hold those members at bay, discouraging their views from being adopted as the long-term norm.
It is the group function that seems to be the most successful at arriving at the best decision. We see this concept in court trials, corporate board meetings, the U.S. Congress, and throughout all walks of life, big and small. The group process is the best hope for how to proceed wisely, and tribal elders are the repository of experience to direct that process. So, if you are a senescent society member, tread carefully. Your words and actions are not just for your benefit, but also for those who follow.
The Menu (February 3, 2020)
It was only supposed to be a fun gathering at my place. I had recently moved to a new condo four hundred miles from my longtime home to live closer to family members. I decided to have them over for dinner to show off my new digs.
I sent out the email invitation to about a dozen recipients. Without a thought, I added a line at the last minute: let me know if you have any food issues. Wrong! Close to half had considerations of one type or another dealing with what they were or were not willing to ingest.
I kept thinking up dish after dish, only to discard it when I realized that my son, granddaughter, cousin, cousin's husband, and a few more wouldn't eat it. I was trolling recipes on the Internet, pondering the matter in the middle of sleepless nights, and generally experiencing a rise in my stress level.
Of course, I'm aware that these many food challenges are spread across the population, not just in my family. However, I don't remember all this stuff when I was younger. Maybe it has to do with bounty and plenty. When food is scarce, you eat what's put in front of you, and you're grateful for it.
My crowd runs the gamut: vegan, vegetarian, lactose intolerant, gluten free, on a diet, red meat averse, Kosher, low salt, low fat, high protein, organic, nut allergies, shellfish issues, pescatarian, heart healthy oils, and the list goes on ad nauseam. There's also the "wine with dinner" matter. I have never acquired a taste for alcohol, so I don't drink any. Truth be told, I don't understand the big fuss about it all: which wine goes with which dish, how to choose it, sniff the cork, the year, the bouquet, the color, the right glass, yadda, yadda, yadda. However, I seem to be a minority of one. So, I just tell my guests to bring whatever wine they want as I'm not serving any, and that I can probably scare up some small glasses and maybe a corkscrew.
As you've probably deduced by now, cooking is not my strong point. To reduce my anxiety, my new motto is to disclose the menu in advance right down to the water I'm serving (tap, filtered, spring, purified, distilled, sparkling, infused--I have a headache).
Although I don't have any food allergies, I do have dislikes. So, don't serve me: lamb, shrimp, sushi, cilantro... Oh, and sorry about my lack of aptitude and flair in the kitchen. However, I really do have other talents.
G'day Mate (January 20, 2020)
We all strive to survive and thrive. We depend on others to help us toward that end; we cannot do it alone. So, we too, must help others, and “others” includes the animals of the world.
Many years ago, I read about a penguin named “Pierre” that was part of a living exhibit at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco, California. For an unknown reason, Pierre lost all of his feathers. He was ostracized by the other penguins, and he couldn’t swim because it was too cold for him. A staff member made Pierre a neoprene suit to protect him, and his feathers eventually grew back. Pierre may not have weathered that trauma without his human benefactor.
Recently, the continent of Australia has been hit with massive wildfires. Believed to be exacerbated by climate change, they are destroying everything in their path. This has included an estimated one billion animals, many unique to Australia. I recently heard about the Australia based “Animal Rescue Craft Guild” that is organizing sewers, knitters, crocheters, and other crafters from around the world to help with this tragedy by making mittens for animals with burnt paws and joey pouches for marsupial baby orphans including kangaroos, possums, koalas and wombats that cannot survive outside of their mother’s pouch. These simple, artificial pouches are crafted from material and protect the life of the undeveloped joey, the marsupial baby, enabling it to flourish until it can live on its own.
Here’s a short primer on the kangaroo joey: when born at about 33 days, it is like an embryo: blind, hairless, and a few centimeters long–the size of a jelly bean. It makes it way from the birth canal to the mother’s pouch by wiggling through her fur. It remains inside the pouch suckling one of four teats which becomes enlarged to hold the joey in place. In about six months, the baby roo starts to make forays outside for short periods of time. It leaves Mom’s comfy digs permanently between eight and eleven months.
If you have needlecrafting skills, how exciting and gratifying it might be to spend a little of your time making an item to enhance the welfare of Australia’s distinctive animals which have been injured and rendered homeless by the relentless fires of 2020. This could also be a fun project to do with your grandchildren, or for them to do on their own. Google “instructions for marsupial pouches” or “instructions for mittens for koalas” to access YouTube videos to teach you how to make these items correctly. When you’re finished, google topics like “how to donate pouches and mittens for fire animal victims in Australia” or go to the Facebook page of “Animal Rescue Craft Guild” for information on where to send them.
If you’re not needlecraft talented yourself, do as I’m doing with this post and pass along the message to those in your sphere who are. No matter your abilities or lack thereof, you too can be a link in the chain to make this happen.
Noise Pollution (January 6, 2020)
Is it me, or has the noise level in our environment risen sharply? To my mind, noise has reached pollution levels, like being enveloped in a constant foghorn. I can’t seem to walk into any establishment these days where I’m not hit broadside by the noise level inside.
To add to what might be a normal degree in a building filled with humans, the proprietors of many locations seem to feel that adding to the racket will help their business. So, they pipe in music which just increases the pollution. Then, to add insult to injury, they ramp up said chords to ridiculous decibels.
This first just occurred in restaurants and bars. Today when you frequent them, screaming to your tablemates just to be able to hear each other is now the norm.
This ambiance has segued to places like food markets, clothing stores, and other commercial businesses open to the public. I don’t know about most folks, but when I enter such a place, I’ll usually do a U-turn and exit from whence I came.
I’ve been known to ask employees to turn down the music. My request usually goes something like: “The music is too loud. My first choice would be for you to turn it off; my second choice to turn it down.” This is usually met with strange stares and some form of resistance. I’m sure that the owners regularly read their “Running a Successful (add any brick and mortar business category)” which tells them that piped in music helps bump up sales. But, putting your customers at the mercy of some radio station playing rap music turned up to assault their eardrums is not what it means, guys.
I don’t know if folks are aware that prolonged exposure to intense noise causes irreversible hearing damage. Those young store clerks and restaurant workers are being harmed permanently! Also, if one goal is to cater to Baby Boomers and seniors (and it should be as we form a huge demographic which spends lots of money), businesspeople ought to be aware that there are more hearing issues and hearing aid use among us, and that the hearing challenged are quite sensitive to intense noise.
We need more quiet in our lives. So, in line with my philosophy that you can’t change other people, you can only change yourself, carry earplugs or earmuffs with you at all times and use them when you are overwhelmed by the ambient clatter. Picture an influx of seniors in earmuffs. That should send the message.
Here we are in the middle of winter which brings with it the coldest iterations of H2O. Burr, we crank up the heaters and pull out turtlenecks, long underwear, gloves, fur lined boots, and extra blankets.
I’ve heard it said that when it rains in New York, people get wet, but when it rains in California people die. East Coast folks usually don’t let a little rain or even snow stop them. We Californians, on the other hand, hole up inside at such weather changes. I, having lived in the “Golden State” since toddlerhood, am just as guilty.
Covid 19 with its new Omicron varient has caused so many to isolate. Now, cold weather just ramps up that choice. Staying at home indoors becomes a habit which is hard to break. We become listless and depressed with such an agoraphobic lifestyle.
When too many days, weeks, or months are less than optimum, many of us can’t seem to adapt. It is disturbing when the status quo is dwindling. We like our comfort zone which is predictable and safe. The reality, however, is that nothing ever stays the same. Life is always changing.
All seasons have their delight. Winter is beautiful if you’re bundled up and comfortable. Skiiers know this and frolic in the snow. Warm and toasty in their ski pants and parkas, they slalom down the mountain, skis parallel for speed or in snowplow position when brakes are needed.
The rider in this photo has turned a power mobility scooter into an all weather vehicle. We can all do something similar to suit our own particular style.
Those who roll or ski with the punches seem to make it through life easier than those who are rigid and fight against change. Flexibility is the key. Tree branches bend in turbulent winds. Structures such as houses are destroyed.
Exchange the cloak of rigidity for a rain cloak. Then, grab an umbrella and go out and about although there’s a shower outside, even if it’s just to your car to drive to another destination. Enjoy nature regardless of its inclemency. Find the beauty in every season, and make it work for you. You will be uplifted and the better for it.
Holiday Letters (December 23, 2019)
This time of year, I usually receive a plethora of holiday letters via email or snail mail from various family members, friends, or even acquaintances. The contents usually follow a formula: recapping the sender’s year with snippets of what they and their loved ones have done during that time. I don’t know how or when this practice started, but I don’t remember it in the first half of my life.
I usually hate those missives because, more often than not, they’re filled with fairy-tale wonderfulness making my life pale in comparison. Everything seems to have a positive spin. It might read: “Hyacinth is loving her new college.” Of course, I know that Hyacinth was expelled from her old college for having drugs in her dorm room, and that she did a short stint in the local jail with some follow-up community service as a result. Maybe it informs us: “Maxwell finally fulfilled his longtime dream of leaving his old firm of Smith, Jones, and McGillicuddy and starting his own company.” Unwritten is that Maxwell was booted out from SJ&M for shoddy work, and his new company headquarters is located behind the house in a 6×8 metal shed furnished with a card table and cinder block bookcase.
We all have our ups and downs–our positives and negatives. A full dose launched in our direction of just one or the other is a turnoff, no matter in what form it is delivered. We all compare ourselves to each other, and when one constantly presents as wonderful, blessed, and fortunate, it becomes tiresome and boring. Conversely, when one bemoans and whines about most things, it becomes tiresome and boring.
Those two extremes, everything is wonderful or everything is terrible, are usually performed with a hidden motive. The former is a type of one-upmanship. At its essence, it is bragging–mine is better than yours. The latter is a form of victimhood to suck more than the practitioner’s share from the attention pool.
If you must send or email a holiday letter, tell us what really happened, not just the Pollyanna version, but be careful not to overload it with poor-me isms. We can see through it all, and we may repay you in kind.
Remember to enjoy your holiday season like a guileless child without an agenda and not use it as a tool to manipulate. With that, I leave you with my holiday letter:
****LEE GALE GRUEN’S 2019 HOLIDAY LETTER****
Happy and Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Posadas Navidenas, Solstice, or (fill in the holiday of your choice.) Just want to bring you up-to-speed on how wonderful, terrific, amazing, incredible, and (fill in any positive adjective) my life has been this past year.
In January, I completed blah, blah, blah!
In February, my son was elected blah, blah, blah!
In March, my oldest grandchild started blah, blah, blah!
In April, my dog learned blah, blah, blah!
In May, I was awarded blah, blah, blah!
In June, my youngest grandchild was chosen blah, blah, blah!
In July, my daughter finished blah, blah, blah!
In August, I traveled to blah, blah, blah!
In September, my middle grandchild mastered blah, blah, blah!
In October, my friends threw me a blah, blah, blah!
In November, I bought a blah, blah, blah!
And this month, December, I’m finally able to tell you all about it and make you drool.
****Have a stupendous holiday season, but not as good as mine, of course!****
The Day I Became Ma'am (December 12, 2019)
Some events make an immediate and abrupt change in our lives. When you have a baby, one moment you’re not the parent of (insert the long pondered name you gave your adorable offspring), and the next moment you are, and your life is never the same. When you’re involved in a major accident, one moment you don’t have four broken limbs and a fractured skull, and the next moment you do, and your life is never the same.
Most changes to our lives, however, come on minutely with the aging process. We don’t notice it as the progression is so gradual. It’s only over months or more likely years that we clock the transformations.
Of course, you evolve from instant to instant. But, what is the exact moment that you morphed from one major phase of your life to the next? I remember the day someone first called me ma’am. I was in my late teens and still felt like a kid. I was crossing a busy intersection directed by a police officer who was hurrying people along.
“Move it, ma’am,” he yelled in an irritated voice.
I didn’t even know who he was talking to, but I was sure it wasn’t me. After all, I certainly wasn’t old enough to be a ma’am. I glanced at him and saw that he was glaring at me impatiently as he waved his arms directing the traffic. It shocked me; I’d never been called ma’am before. When did I go from being a miss to a ma’am?
I’m now asking that question in my senior years. When was the day, the hour, the minute, the second that I actually became a senior? I’m not sure? I look in the mirror and wonder who that is gazing back at me pondering the same question.
It’s hard passing through the stages of our lives. However, we have no choice. If we’re alive, we can only move forward toward the inescapable, like it or not. The takeaway here is that our mental thoughts and emotional identity often lag behind our physical strength and appearance. What we think of ourselves is not necessarily how the world views us. We must be aware of the difference between the two. That leaves the only consideration: how we deal with it.
Some rail against aging, trying as hard as they can to avoid it, reject it, disguise it. You may convince yourself that you’ve done so, but it’s not true. Others can see through your little guise even if you can’t or choose not to.
Being a ma’am didn’t make me any different than I was the day before. It’s just a word, not a description of my character, personality, lifestyle, and beliefs. I’m no longer the immature young woman I was then having transformed ever so slowly into the mature senior I am now. That process was going to happen no matter my machinations along the journey.
So, one alternative is to accept and embrace your age whatever it may be at any moment. Stop fighting the process and go with the flow as the kids say. It will make your life easier, richer, and more enjoyable as you amble along that inevitable path.
Up High (November 28, 2019)
We all want to be up high. As young children at a parade, we tell our parents to lift us up high. As adults, we strive to climb the social or corporate ladder to raise ourselves up high.
What’s the big deal with being so high? Does it make us happier or more content? The race to the top is fraught with victims trying and failing to claw and scratch their way to the apex of the mountain. We are competitive beings. We grow up with emphasis on besting another no matter who that other might be: friend, acquaintance, co-worker, parent, sibling, even our own offspring. And, the besting portion comes in any form that stratifies folks--someone always higher by some arbitrary measurement than someone else.
Everyone seems to want to surround themselves with the good life which so many identify as material possessions. However, according to the Hedonic Treadmill, it never satisfies, it only makes its practitioners crave ever more of that same stuff.
Is it possible to just be satisfied? Can we be okay with where we are in life, even though that guy over there has more money, a bigger house, more successful children, or a later model car? It's hard because that's not what we were taught in our families, at school, and in our society. However, that constant dissatisfaction and competition grows tiresome. Manifesting in the form of jealousy, anxiety, nervousness, sleeplessness and similar outcomes, it takes a huge toll on our physical and mental well-being.
How do you walk away from always wanting to be up high, up higher, up highest? First, you have to recognize you have that affliction. It may be so ingrained that it's hard to spot. Then, you have to want to cut it free--really, really want to. You will have to formulate a plan of action on how to go about it--steps to take. This is different for everyone, but with some honest thought, you can arrive at your own customized list.
It could involve minor changes such as volunteering to help those less fortunate or giving away certain possessions. It could be as drastic as quitting a job, moving away from a neighborhood, or even cutting certain family members and friends loose.
Finally, you must work at it daily as you must for any change of long-term habits. It may take the same length of time to defeat as it took to become entrenched--years probably. Yet, if you want it badly enough...
Buddha was thought to have been born into a privileged life which he renounced to become an ascetic and pauper. Hey, if Buddha can give it all up in pursuit of enlightenment, maybe there's a chance for us.
Our Gang (November 13, 2019)
We all need good friends to hang out with. There’s a comfort level about being around people we like, we’ve known for a while, and with whom we share common interests. Humans are not solitary beings. We are social beings who enjoy the camaraderie of like-minded folks. They are our support system, our cheering squad, our comforters.
Some people, however, refuse to open themselves up to making new friends. They stick to those they know to the exclusion of anyone who tries to break into their tight clique. Sometimes, it’s to the point of being rude.
I remember a situation where I was sitting in a huge, noisy room at a large, round banquet table. It was my first time attending that organization, and I didn’t know anyone there. The person seated on my right physically turned her back in my direction as she chatted up the person on the other side of her. There was a bookend effect from my left. Together, they served to isolate me. Perhaps you’ve had a similar experience. Why do people behave like that?
Rather than thinking it is a fault in yourself, maybe it’s a fault in the back turner. Perhaps they are so uncomfortable with new situations that they have to form a blockade to keep intruders out. How sad for them. They might miss an opportunity for a new point of view, of learning something they didn’t know, or of interacting with a charming personality.
I have a group of friends who are very open and agreeable with any in the group inviting newcomers to our outings. We never give it a second thought. So, I did the same thing with a different group of friends without asking if it was okay with everyone. It just didn’t dawn on me that it would be a problem. Wrong!
Another in that group became very huffy and cold to both me and my invited guest. I noticed how visibly upset she seemed. I couldn’t figure out why she was acting that way, so I asked her when we were alone for a moment.
“I thought it was just going to be the four of us. I didn’t know that there was going to be a stranger here, too. It just changes the character of the get-together.”
In truth, she’s right; it does. To me, it was just a few friends joining each other for lunch. However, I had spoiled it for her. I should have asked permission of the others before inviting an outsider.
We are not all alike. I enjoy meeting and getting to know new people. I find it interesting and stimulating. However, not everyone feels that way, and I must remember that.
Old relationships are precious. Treat them accordingly. But, try to open yourself up to new ones. It might just expand you.
OMG I Just Got Younger (October 30, 2019)
Take off one candle from the birthday cake. I’m a year younger than I thought!
When the subject comes up, I’ve been telling people my age, or at least, what I thought was my age. I’ve never shortchanged my years, trying to drop five or ten of them to represent myself as being younger. I am what I am, and I have never bought into presenting myself otherwise.
Last week at my gym class, I got into a discussion with another member about how old we were going to be on our next birthday. She thought she was the oldest person there and was so excited to find someone older--by one year. As we continued talking, we discovered we had been born in the same year, she in March and I in December.
Wait a minute, something didn’t compute. It seemed that either I was a year younger than I was claiming, or she was a year older. I was sure I was right. After all, I’m pretty sharp and don’t usually make significant mistakes like that.
I rushed home and grabbed my cheapo calculator. It seemed to tell me that she was right. Naw, it must be defective. How long had it been since I changed the batteries? I took to google and typed “age calculator” into the search box. After inputting my date of birth, up came a number that agreed with cheapo and my gym mate. But, how was that possible? I had been claiming the wrong age, even on written forms where it was requested, upping it by a year.
The only thing I can figure out is that I went to my high school class reunion a few months ago, and many attendees were a year older as I had been among the youngest in that class having been born nearly at year’s end. So, hearing them talk about their age, I guess I started saying the same thing.
The silver lining to my faulty memory is that I just got a year younger! Now, how often do we get that, folks?
Funny, though; I don’t feel any different. Yes, it’s the same old me. Being a year younger doesn’t make any difference. My takeaway: calculations of ages and birth dates are just numbers' games. It’s what you do with those precious years, days, hours, minutes, and seconds that matter.
Earlobes and Such (October 16, 2019)
We use our bodily parts in various ways to hold the objects necessary in our daily life. We balance glasses on the bridge of our nose and the tops of our ears. We hold up our pants by cinching belts around our waists. We strap watches around our wrists. We tie young babies to our backs. As the child grows larger, we hoist it on our hip bone to straddle our body for balance as we carry it.
I came upon this young woman who took the concept to a whole new level. She had stretchers in her earlobes.
(Click here and scroll down to read my blog of June 5, 2017, “Generational Differences,” which features “gauges” as earlobe stretchers are called.) That is a style now among many of the younger generation.
The stereotypical waitress’ answer to always looking for a pen or pencil is to shove it through her hair to rest on the top of her ear. However, this young woman’s innovative answer was to push it through the large hole in her earlobe.
Adaptability can be brought into all aspects of our lives: our jobs, our studies, our relationships, our parenting… Always doing things the tried-and-true way doesn’t allow for expansion.
Think about things you’d like to change about yourself or do differently. Focus on how you might morph to enhance your life. Make a conscious effort to imagine the steps you can take. Compile a to-do list using a computer or even the old-fashioned method of pen and paper, even if you don’t keep your writing implement as handy as the appendage dangling from your ear.
Strive to make your life fuller and more satisfying. Create ways to stretch yourself in lots of areas, not just your earlobes.
Touching a Giraffe (October 1, 2019)
I was on an amazing trip to Africa a few months ago. One day, we stopped at a giraffe rescue compound. Up close and personal was their philosophy. The staff even gave us food pellets to feed to our long-necked friends. What a privilege to be able to touch such a beast.
Touch is one of our five senses which gets less than its fair share of credit. We're so focused on vision and hearing, that we forget the importance of touch in the quality of life.
Animals love to be petted. Touch yields purring from our cats and contented sighs from our dogs. But, what does touching an animal do for us? Is it like an electrical charge of mutual joy between the human touchor and the animal touchee?
To me it is. There is something about touching an animal that immediately calms me. It could be I am so focused on the task that I'm not thinking about anything else. However, I suspect it's more than that. It's a tactile sharing with a sentient being of this earth--a non-judgmental one without an agenda. I feel their touch as much as they feel mine. And it just plain feels good! I have written on the importance of touch in this blog before (See "Hugs," February 17, 2018, and "The Power of Touch," February 4, 2016.")
Some people seem wary of touch or even averse to it. I can understand that; it's a kinetic interaction which can be perceived as uncomfortable to them. When you plan on touching another, whether human or otherwise, be sensitive to whether they enjoy that sensation or not.
If you are one who has never liked being touched too much, you might try to accustom yourself to it. Start by taking baby steps, maybe with gentle, domestic animals. Slowly move up from there as touch becomes more palatable. You may discover a contentment you've been missing.
Don't forget to include touch in your interaction with folks. Touch your children, grandchildren, and those you love. Touch a stranger when appropriate. A handshake, a pat on the hand, or linking arms can melt even the iciest, most standoffish opponent.
Life Is a Pinball Machine (September 16, 2019)
A pinball machine is an apt metaphor for life. From our birth, we are propelled down a jagged, unpredictable path strewn with obstacles. When we hit one, it bounces us in a different direction until we meet up with a new impediment. From there, we are pushed along yet another route and on and on. As we weave our way along, we encounter experiences which we would not have had but for the random jumping between points.
Think of various examples in your life and how they occurred. So often, they were simply a shot in the dark--you were just at the right place at the right time or the wrong place at the wrong time. Had arbitrary, proceeding events not occurred to put you there, you would not have encountered those particular circumstances.
Such an unplanned stumbling from one destination to the next is what constitutes life. Ponder this for a moment: what events led to your attending the school you did, making the friendships you have, settling on living in a particular city, obtaining your job, meeting your partner, and everything else in your life?
Toward the end of college, I signed up for interviews with a host of recruiters who had come to the campus seeking potential employees. When I graduated, I accepted a job as a probation officer simply because that was the first one offered to me. I didn't even know what a probation officer did. I remained at that career for thirty-seven years. Many of my closest friends were co-workers I met there.
After I retired, I mentioned to a friend that I was bored and directionless. She told me about a local school with classes for seniors. I perused the Schedule of Classes and mistakenly signed up for an acting class, thinking it was just a play discussion course. Never having acted in my life, I was hooked that first day after reading a scene with another class member. That experience changed my life, and I went on to become a professional actress as a senior.
So, life is simply a crapshoot. We make our way along, careening and readjusting as we go, hoping that it will turn out well. The only fleeting control we have is what we do with the situation once we land at any given spot. Be flexible and prepared to deal with whatever the pinball machine of life hands you.
Cool Your Jets (September 2, 2019)
We are all impatient, some more than others. We are concerned about how future events will unfold. We want our agendas to be realized immediately. However, living in a world of billions, that’s usually impossible. We must wait our turn in the queue. We must rein in our impatience. We must plan our activities in advance to allow plenty of time to reach the goal or outcome we seek.
Trying to be patient can create anxiety, sleep problems, distraction, and all types of other behaviors which interfere with our everyday lives. However, we have no choice; we must learn to grapple with delayed gratification.
How can you do so if you are a personality type with substantial difficulty in that arena? It’s hard, but it can and must be done for your well-being. Here are some ideas:
1. You can participate in a soothing activity that redirects your mind and thoughts. I know someone who takes to her piano whenever she feels anxious.
2. You can schedule activities that divert your attention such as watching a movie, playing cards, or attending an interesting function.
3. You can engage in physical exercise such as sports or attendance at your local gym to help channel your nervous energy. 4. You can discuss your feelings with a friend as a sounding board to get a better perspective on the particular situation.
5. Or, you can make the decision to change your modus operandi.
Your modus operandi is simply your normal way of behaving. Changing your M.O. is the hardest choice of all. It takes constant attention and self-assessment to be aware of how you are acting, to settle your mind, and to choose to move on to something else.
Unlike the aforementioned, short-term fixes, a significant change of behavior may take years to accomplish and possibly therapeutic intervention. Success at that endeavor depends heavily on the depth of your desire to discard old habits for new. If you are able to accomplish such a feat, however, it will be the most rewarding and helpful to you.
I Signed Up to Be an Uber Driver (August 17, 2019)
I was trying to download the Uber app onto my cell phone. It was a new learning curve for me, but I wanted to be hip like everyone else and try out the popular ride sharing concept.
I followed all the correct prompts on the Uber website, or so I thought. After completing my efforts, I received an immediate email from Uber welcoming me to their pool of drivers. They wanted all sorts of personal information such as my driver's license number, insurance, and the like.
I have no idea what I did to become part of the Uber Drivers Club. Truth be told, I'd probably be the worst sort of Uber driver. My driving skills are okay but nothing to brag about. My patience with the full range of personalities an Uber driver might encounter is limited. And, my sense of direction stinks.
After I was enrolled as an Uber driver, the problem became how to unenroll. Apparently, Uber doesn't want their drivers to drop out, especially before they even begin. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't quit my new job. I finally gave up and figured I'd just remain on their roster.
Well, Uber didn't like that either. They were not about to brook a driver who didn't provide her driving information, and certainly not one who didn't drive. I continued receiving emails from Uber insisting upon the sacred data. I ignored them, but they persisted--Uber can be very persistent.
They finally got the idea and stopped pestering me. However, I don't know if I'm still buried somewhere in their data bank of drivers. I can't help wondering if this type of snafu befalls others, too? Does it happen to younger people, or is it just us older folk? What did Uber say on its end after I bailed? Oh, another ditzy senior.
Never mind, I do know that I went on to become a successful Uber passenger after a few upsetting mishaps (click this link and scroll down for my blog of March 4, 2018 "Uber et al" https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2018/03/.) I have even learned a couple of things from my Uber rider experiences. For example, I bought one of those handy dandy devices that holds a cell phone near the dashboard at close viewing range used by all Uber drivers while their phone's GPS navigates the route. Now, if I ever do decide to activate my Uber driver status, I'm all set!
Always be willing to learn from your experiences. When you encounter a good idea, borrow it, steal it, claim it for yourself. Good ideas are good ideas, no matter where they come from, even Uber.
Feeling Out of Place (August 4, 2019)
Sometimes we find ourselves in situations where we feel out of place; you know, that awkward, uncomfortable sensation because we don’t quite fit in. We try to adapt, but all we can think of is, how do I get out of here? It’s particularly hard in a situation where everyone else seems to know each other, to interact comfortably, and we are the odd man out.
I think most folks have found themselves in such a predicament at some time in their life. We dread it and often avoid participating in a potentially interesting activity because we fear we may experience that distasteful feeling yet again. The one thing we forget is that everybody was in the same dilemma in some venue somewhere when they first attended, and they were the odd man out. They felt uneasy and thought of bolting.
As I’ve previously discussed in this blog, I moved to a large, active retirement community three years ago knowing no one. I was intimidated and uncomfortable everywhere I went. The community offers a plethora of clubs, events, sports, and activities of all kinds.
Each thing I attended, I had to go alone. Of course, it seemed like everyone else there was with lots of friends. It was hard, and I often debated whether to even make the effort. However, the thought of isolating myself inside my four walls was worse. Slowly, I found my own friends, became comfortable, and now I’m very happy.
You must push yourself and bear up under the discomfort in order to reap the rewards, just like you’ve had to do all your life at school, in your job, dating, raising children, and so on. Like all skills, the more you do it, the more adept you become.
It seems we must wade through the sludge to get to the gold. So, hang in there, continue going back, keep starting conversations with other participants. It will slowly get better. It makes it easier realizing that it doesn’t just happen to you, it happens to all people no matter how rich, attractive, successful, or accomplished.
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Monet and Me (July 23, 2019)
Ah, Monet. We hung out together recently. That is, Monet did the hanging--on a wall at the de Young Museum in San Francisco, California, with me in attendance and in awe. To my chagrin, I failed to dress for the occasion--a faux pas as Monet would say in the French of his origin. Yes, I stressed primary colors that day forgetting that my pal Monet is definitely a secondary colors kind of guy.
No matter; we were both gobsmacked (I've been dying to use that trendy word) by the beauty of his garden and his ability to render it on a flat surface. Yes, two of totally different interests and viewpoints can come together over a shared commonality.
Monet and I were born 100 years and 4,000 miles apart. What would we have talked about if we hadn't had such distances between us? We would certainly have discussed the beauty of nature. We might have marveled at the intricacy of a leaf, the color of a flower, the soothing ripple of water.
It's not always easy to find something in common with another. But, more often than not, there will be a little nugget if you dig deep enough.
I attended a banquet dinner last year and was sitting at a table with some folks I didn't know. One man tried to engage me in conversation, but each thing he mentioned didn't hit a cord. Finally, in response to yet another of his queries, I revealed that I had graduated college in 1964 from UCLA. Voilà (to continue in a Francophile mode), my table mate began discussing Kareem Abdul Jabbar who was a student at UCLA around that time and became a top ranked player on the university basketball team. I know very little about sports, but I was able to contribute that Kareem was known then by his birth name of Lew Alcindor. That opened up a lengthy conversation which segued into different topics.
Find common interests with those you encounter. Keep bringing up different subjects until you hit upon something that excites you both. It's there; you just have to keep searching for it. Even the dullest, most withdrawn human will shine when you strike upon their passion. That's the way to make friends!
Drumming (July 9, 2019)
I spotted a guy on a subway train with a huge drum. I guess he subscribes to the old adage: you never know when you might need a drum.
Drums, those wonderful creations by humans, are of the percussion persuasion. They can be played using sticks, palms, elbows, whatever. They can be professionally made or cheaply crafted out of materials at hand.
I’ve seen street drummers banging out wonderful rhythms on an assemblage of pots, pans, plastic pails, and other assorted items that make a resonating noise when struck. Some of those drummers have even turned to the curb of the sidewalk to continue tapping out their message. The wonderful steel drums played in the Caribbean were originally made from 55-gallon oil barrels.
Drums let us beat out the rhythms in our head. Drums are cathartic, enabling us to pour out not only our joy, but our rage, anger, upset, disappointment, and all other sorts of negative emotions. The drumming member of the band is the guy/gal who gets to flail, gyrate, posture, and genuflect as he pounds those skins. What a workout, and what a release, physically and emotionally.
A popular pastime in recent years is the advent of drumming circles. They are a grass-roots endeavor and promote community camaraderie among its members. Groups get together with each participant bringing their own drum. The particular type or style is unimportant. All that is required is a drum of some sort to receive the pounding of each player as they belt out their collective message to the world.
Drumming is a form of amplification of the body’s expression of rhythm: finger tapping/snapping, dancing, singing, scatting, body twisting, etc. Humans today and down through the ages all the way from sophisticated societies to the simplest of tribal people have felt the need for bodily expression through sound and movement. Drums are enablers to that end. And best of all, they are portable and attract others in an upbeat (pun intended) gathering. So, acquire your own drum and get to it; bang your woes away!
Bailing Out at the Last Minute (June 24, 2019)
How important is it to stick to your word? I mean, what’s the big deal if you back out of a promise or commitment? I’ve addressed this subject before (see blog of May 14, 2018: “Keep Your Promises”), but this is a different slant.
To most people, it can be irritating, upsetting, or even painful when someone reneges on plans with very little notice. The one depending upon your acting toward a specific end may have staked a lot on that promise. They may have switched around other obligations, refused new invitations, or generally rearranged things in their life with your agreement as the catalyst.
We all have to change our arrangements from time to time; we’re human. However, try to give lots of advance notice. Backing out of a commitment at the last minute is fraught with all types of fallout.
The practitioners of short notice bailing-out may do so for acceptable reasons. Something seriously urgent may have come up, they may legitimately have been delayed, or they may have had an accident. But often, it’s something as simple as: they don’t feel like it, they expended their energy on other activities that day, or they got a better deal. I’ve been at the receiving end of such behavior from time to time. What I’d like to ask those actors is, “How do you feel when someone backs out on you late-term?”
I remember once a friend who was divorced telling me that her young son had waited for hours in front of the house for his father to pick him up for their planned excursion, but the father never arrived. The son was devastated. The father’s subsequent excuse was lame and selfish.
I have been involved in relationships where the other party became angry and spontaneously backed out of a promise or commitment as a means of control or to inflict hurt. Of course, I learned never to trust their promises, and I proceeded accordingly.
Here’s a variation on a theme: Years ago, I had a friend who, when I’d suggest a particular date to meet, would check her calendar and tell me, “I don’t have any plans for that day, yet.” I couldn’t figure out if that was a yes or a no. What exactly does “yet” mean in that context? It became clear that her pattern was to hold me off to see if she got a more exciting opportunity. She probably practiced that technique with most in her sphere, placing herself in a position to wiggle out if she desired. Needless to say, she is now a former friend.
When others rely on your word, and it soon becomes clear that said word is unreliable or of a waffling nature, the blowback to you will be a loss of trust and a rift in the relationship. Go ahead, take the plunge–commit. Then, do your utmost to follow through, even if you’re pissed off or get a better, last-minute offer. If you can’t seem to do that, don’t be surprised as one friendship after another melts away
Fixations (June 10, 2019)
I have written often on this subject, yet it keeps calling me back. I hear chatter, see ads, discover new offerings in this field. Yes, we humans fixate on our bodies. We find the parts that are not considered attractive in the time, age, and location in which we live, and we obsess about them. I’m too tall/short/scrawny/corpulent, my nose is too big, my hair is too limp, my eyelids are slanted, my ears stick out, my biceps aren’t muscular, my breasts are too small/large, and on and on.
Of course, styles in beauty and attractiveness change with the times. Peter Paul Rubens, late 16th century artist, painted very full figured women as that was considered beautiful when he lived. Today we call them fat. Ancient statues from Rome sport large Roman noses as it was considered good-looking at that time. Today, we seek rhinoplasty for such a protuberance.
Even though I am of average height now, I matured very quickly and was the second tallest kid in my sixth grade class. The tallest was also a girl. I hated it and wished I could be little, cute and popular like Bunnie. I remember that we had ballroom dancing classes in school every week, and they would line us up by height, the boys in one line and the girls in another side by side. I was always second to the last in the girl’s line or last if the aforementioned tallest was absent. Chances are I would get one particular boy as my partner who was wimpy and had an underbite. I’m sure he wasn’t any happier drawing me to dance with during the “ordeal,” either. I despised the whole thing.
We run to our idols: doctors, surgeons, hairstylists, personal trainers, fashionistas, anyone who can disguise or change that horrible feature about ourselves that we abhor. Once we do away with one, we find another to fixate on. Okay, the bump in my nose was removed, but how about my big hips? Okay, I got rid of my wrinkles, but I hate my thinning hair. Let me run to the gym and work out, let me get liposuction, let me stuff myself into girdles, slimming pants, A-shaped skirts, Hawaiian shirts, let me starve myself–anything to hide my awfulness from the eyes of others.
How sad we humans are. How funny we would seem to alien beings arriving on our planet. How strange we must seem to the animals of the world.
Does a horse fixate on its mane being shorter than another’s–darker, lighter, thicker, thinner? Yes, certain traits in the animal world attract a mate: longer tusks, larger chests, more colorful feathers, etc. However, we humans have taken it to an extreme as we are wont to do. If it doesn’t come naturally, we spend our time, energy, and money scurrying to the fixers of our fixations.
Watson (May 27, 2019)
Life can be such an adventure. Simple day-to-day activities can yield gold–unexpected finds and excitement.
I went to Home Depot a few weeks ago for the usual reasons people go there; it was just one of my chores for the day. I was ambling around pushing one of their larger-than-I-am shopping carts when I turned down a random aisle. In front of me was Watson, a beautiful English Setter as his owner informed me. I had never met an English Setter before.
Watson was as sweet and gentle as he was beautiful. He was also like flypaper, attracting practically every shopper who was lucky enough to turn down that enchanted aisle where he was holding court. Watson brought strangers together as they oohed and aahed over him, petted him, asked questions about him, and interacted with each other over their shared experience.
Watson’s owner, or should I say the fortunate person allowed to accompany him on the other end of the leash, told the gathering crowd that Watson was a therapy dog, visiting inhabitants at places such as senior homes and hospitals to bestow his calm and magnificence upon them.
Watson accepted the adoration of all of us gathered around him in the Home Depot aisle that day without changing his demeanor in the slightest. He inhabited his purpose in life: bringing joy to those he encountered. He didn’t become puffed up with his own importance, demanding of rewards or social position, manipulative, or any of the other things humans in such a position might have done. No, Watson simply remained Watson–a uniter, not a divider.
We need more human Watsons in the world who will bring people together and unite them. We need less division and derision. We need more calm, gentleness—more Watson-ness. Are we humans fated to encounter that only in other animal forms?
Fragile (May 14, 2019)
Throughout my life, I've encountered people who are described as "fragile" both by themselves and by others. These people have been co-workers, family members, friends, acquaintances, and more. Fragile seems to mean that they can't tolerate too much pressure, stress, responsibility, expectations, etc., or they "fall apart."
I'm not the fragile type. I come across as responsible, capable, reliable, tough. Therefore, others have high expectations of me and are upset if I fail to live up to them. I am expected to show up on time, not complain, do the job assigned to me, and produce results, not excuses. However, fragile people are not held to this standard. They are given a pass because, after all, they are fragile.
I've never been sure if fragility is actual or a successful protective shield which is carefully honed during a lifetime. Certainly, it yields high payoffs to some practitioners. A co-worker years ago earned the same salary as I and had the same job description, but expectations for her were far less than for me. When extra work needed to be done, it was usually me who was tapped. And my reward? More work, of course. When I was lamenting the situation to another co-worker, his response was, "Well, she's fragile." That was my introduction to that descriptor of ineptitude, a very manipulative behavior in this case.
I've pondered over the years how to jump on the fragile train. I'm not a natural at it, and it doesn't fit my personality. However, I've tried to acquire the skill. Usually, however, my true nature shows through, and others don't let me get away with it.
So, I'm putting it out to the world. I want to be fragile. If you encounter me or deal with me, take your expectations elsewhere and let me screw up over and over with minimal consequences, at the same salary, of course.
Hiding (April 29, 2019)
We all hide in one way or another. It can be deliberately or subconsciously. We hide the traits, aspects, and details of ourselves that we think are undesirable or a turnoff to others.
Hiding can take the form of outright lying or simply omission. Hiding can involve deception from small, socially acceptable behavior to a major ruse.
Commerce encourages us to hide our appearance and age by hawking products such as hair dye, wigs, cosmetics, plastic surgery, and the rest of that ilk. They couple that with propaganda which convinces us that our altered presentation to the world is okay, appropriate, no big deal, “everyone does it.” Entertainment idols help sell that lie by partaking and flaunting it to the public. Seventy-something actresses look forty, parading their deception and bragging about it. Ordinary folks seeing this in the media comment on “how wonderful she looked on TV the other night.”
There was a time when women who wore makeup were considered “painted ladies” and scorned by polite society. Now, it’s just the opposite. Both sexes spend multi-billions of dollars worldwide on cosmetics, procedures, and the like to alter their appearances to something they think will be more pleasing to others. They put their health and even their life in danger with elective surgical procedures, again to try to present a different self to the world than what they consider the ugly one they wear naturally.
Behaviors such as anorexia and bulimia have to do with poor body image. Where does that come from? Why are we telling people that “you can never be too rich or too thin”? Why don’t fashion models look like the majority of people?
We teach this self-assessment to our children who want to emulate what they consider “grown-up” behavior. They quickly learn by their teenage years which of their bodily attributes are unattractive: nose, hair, height, weight, voice, skin color, and on and on. Too many obsess about it. Commerce, always on the lookout for new grist for its ever churning mill, panders to this market, too.
There’s nothing wrong with trying to look nice. However, when it impacts your view of yourself and the world and tends toward the pathological, dangerous, or even life threatening, it is a major problem.
Fred Rogers of "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" fame used to make his young TV listeners feel special by letting them know he liked them no matter how they looked or acted. Where are the Mr. Rogerses of today? Who is telling our children now? Who is telling our grandchildren? Who is telling us?
Outfoxed by a Plant (April 15, 2019)
Ah, the things we do for our loved ones. We go to great lengths and expend enormous amounts of time, energy, and money when the motivation is right. What greater impetus than when the object is someone/something we love. Wouldn’t you do just about anything for your children, parents, spouse, significant other, pet...?
How about our plants? Well, maybe they don’t have quite the impact on us as the aforementioned categories. However, I have a plant that is holding me hostage. It’s my Dieffenbachia, also called in plant tomes: dumb cane. Believe me, mine is not dumb.
I bought the plant when it was a wee sprout, under a foot tall. I knew it would grow to have large, glorious leaves to brag about, just like its kith and kin. When I moved to my current digs almost three years ago, Dieff accompanied me in the back seat, drop-dead gorgeous leaves swaying with the movement of the car. I’d glance at him/her from time to time in my rear view mirror, feeling his calming influence.
Dieff has grown since he came to live with me and now stands proudly about four feet tall. He loves his new location, bright light but not too sunny.
I’ve always watered Dieff and my other plants regularly and carefully, using a water meter to check the soil moisture so as to give them just enough nourishment. When I travel, a neighbor takes over that chore, dutifully following my detailed, written instructions. Yes, I nurture my green darlings.
About three months ago, Dieff had an attack of some terrible ailment. His leaves started curling under like he had been punched in the stomach. (Do plants have stomachs?) I called garden stores seeking advice. I took to Google, reading everything I could. It seems that the fertilizer-laced water I’d been giving Dieff for five years had become too toxic for him in his dotage, and salts were building up in his soil. Actually, that doesn’t sound too different from me as I’ve aged.
According to Google, I must flush Dieff with a gallon of distilled water. I rolled Dieff outside on his wheeled platform, struggling to keep the heavy pot upright. I almost blew out my back, but this was an emergency.
The flushing worked! Within two days, Dieff was back to his old self. Things went well for the next few months as I eliminated all fertilizer and fed him only tap water. His rebellion happened yesterday. He screamed at me, “I don’t want that tap crap! GIVE ME DISTILLED.” He emphasized his point by curling his leaves under as only he can. I may have heard a few coughs, too, but I’m not sure.
I ran to the store and stocked up on ten dollars' worth of distilled water. (I don’t even buy bottled water for myself.) After another flushing, Dieff perked up and has stopped harassing me, but he definitely has me twisted around his little finger–ah, stem.
Yes, we go through all sorts of machinations for those we love, no matter what their DNA. (Do plants have DN–oh never mind?)
Put-Down Humor (April 1, 2019)
Why are so many jokes based on putting someone else down? A roast (ceremonious public ridiculing) is filled with anecdotes, jabs, stabs, and emphasis on the failings and negative aspects of the roastee. He/she must suffer through the ordeal with a smile-plastered-on-face look to prove that he can take it.
If someone has a weight problem, no matter how accomplished he might be, there is always a fat joke lurking. There are the jokes about ethnicity, sexual orientation, intellectual challenges, country of origin, frugality, and on and on. What does the joke teller or the passer-along of the denigrating email get out of his act? What do the bystanders who laugh thereby encouraging this behavior get out of it? Why is this type of "humor" so pervasive starting from childhood?
Maybe it makes the offender feel superior. That, of course, means that they must feel inferior. Yes, we all have feelings of inferiority no matter how attractive, skillful, intelligent, or wealthy we are. We have a tendency to focus on the parts of us that aren’t as desirable as those of some arbitrary standard that has been set by others: parents, peers, authority figures, media, big business, etc., and to feel inferior as a result. Oh, we may be very good at hiding those feelings from the world and even from ourselves, but we sure love a good joke at the expense of another.
A put-down comedian who rose in the ranks in the 1960s and persisted into the 2000s, commanded a high salary, and booked lots of appearances was Don Rickles (now deceased). He was lauded as “one of the best insult comics of all time,” and was sarcastically dubbed “Mr. Warmth” due to his being the polar opposite.
As a young woman, I somehow found myself at a night club attending a live performance of Don Rickles. His whole delivery consisted of finding people in the audience and ridiculing some aspect of them–brutally, in my opinion. I was a nervous wreck during his entire act fearing that he’d pick on me. Although I never found his brand of humor appealing, so many did. You should have heard the laughter in that night club.
Don Rickles himself was a small, unattractive man with a loud mouth that spewed venom. One can only wonder what he endured growing up as a child. To me, he is a spot-on example of “the best defense is a good offense.”
Must we boost ourselves up at the expense of others? Do we really go home feeling better having put someone else down? Is there another way to improve our own self-esteem?
Economics of Condolences (March 19, 2019)
A friend recently wrote me that her beloved cat of almost twenty years had died. She commented that more than 125 people wrote her condolences on her Facebook page, a significantly greater number than when her parents dies.
Why is it that people can give sympathy so much more easily at the loss of a pet in someone's life rather than a human? Is it too personal when the loss is perceived to be so enormous--too close to home? Does the potential offerer fear getting into a long, emotional discussion with the aggrieved which might delay the former from a busy schedule? Pets are considered lower on the scale of importance, and perhaps that allows us to spend less time at the task of offering our regrets.
How many times have we uttered that casual opener, “Hi, how are you?” expecting the answer to be the standard, “Fine”? However, when the answer is something like, "Awful, my (fill in the blank) just died," we're stuck. If it's an in-person encounter, how can you just respond, "Oh, sorry about that. Ah, I have to go now"? If it's a telephone conversation, is it okay to say, "Hold on, I have another call coming in"? Such behavior would cast you as uncaring, insensitive, selfish, and more. So, to be socially acceptable, we must immediately stop everything to offer comforting words, mentally calculating how long before we can slither away.
I wonder if my friend would have gotten such an abundance of responses by the same people in person. With Internet platforms, we can be quick and go on our way while still getting brownie points for our thoughtfulness. It's that old economic principle: seek the maximum amount of gain for the minimum amount of effort or, stated in more economic terms, when making decisions that are in your own self-interest, strive to achieve the highest benefits at the lowest costs.
The operative words are “decisions…in your own self-interest.” Are we only going through the motions of caring with thoughts of "what's best for me" playing in the background? Human nature dictates self-interest responses to stimuli. However, can we stop for an instant and truly feel for another human being? Can we be genuine in our outpouring of concern for another human being? Can we put our busy lives on pause for just a bit to sincerely comfort another human being?
Forgiving Yourself (March 5, 2019)
We all screw up sometimes. No matter how hard we try, plan, or manipulate, circumstances may alter “the best laid plans of mice and men.” There’s another wonderful image in that vein about the deities finding much humor in the feeble efforts of mere mortals.
Awhile ago, my son was entrusted with an artistic piece made by a family member who had expended many hours of labor in its creation. My son was to bring the object back home to be a centerpiece in his family’s household. He carefully carried and stowed the coveted, bulky item in the airplane overhead compartment. Upon landing and disembarking, he then hand-carried it to the baggage claim area where he set it down briefly so he could retrieve his suitcase from the carousel. That’s when God let out a full belly laugh.
Upon returning, the wrapped object was nowhere to be found. Panicky, my son searched and searched to no avail. He filed a claim with lost and found, but it never turned up. He was devastated and felt he had betrayed a confidence.
This is just a small example of when forgiveness should enter the equation. Sometimes, the hardest form of forgiveness is to forgive yourself. Why do we hold ourselves to such high standards, fearing to admit that we’re only human? I’m sure you can contribute such a war story of your own. We’ve all been there-done that, and it’s usually painful and racks us with guilt.
If an offender committed an act against you which caused you pain, discomfort, inconvenience, or upset, look at his/he motive. Was the act done without guile? If so, and he is contrite and usually trustworthy, you must forgive him. If the act was done deliberately, and that is his usual modus operandi, then he must live with such a flawed character trait and suffer the ramifications: frequent loss of friendships and relationships, ongoing conflict and tumult, others always on guard around him, and eventual disappointment and loneliness as all close contacts distance themselves or bail out altogether
If you are an example of the deliberate, conniving, the-end-justifies-the-means type, then be prepared to live with the consequences and stop being so surprised when they finally happen. If your act was committed without such duplicity, you must forgive yourself. One final saying to make the point: “To err is human, to forgive divine,” and that includes forgiving yourself.
Outliers (February 18, 2019)
What is an outlier? It is an extreme example of something--the farther ends of the spectrum or uncommon within a distinctive category or group.
So what happens if you or someone close to you is an outlier? Are you or yours the fattest, skinniest, most painfully shy, overly high strung, too-smart-for-your-own-good, developmentally disabled, and the like?
For example, a hyperactive child always seems to be the one creating chaos. He/she is soon identified by the group as the troublemaker and becomes shunned, causing distress to the child and its parents. Such behavior to get attention is the only way that child understands. The situation escalates resulting in them being ostracized even more, thus setting up a perpetuating cycle.
Being an outlier is particularly hard while growing up. One can be stamped with derogatory terms that stick for a lifetime such as: geek, wimp, fatso, beanpole, homo, crazy, ugly, stupid, weird and on and on. The medical profession is complicit in the labeling game. Although done for "scientific" reasons, diagnoses like: schizophrenic, paranoid, autistic and so forth categorize their recipients and put them in pigeonholes from which it is hard to escape. These terms affect future treatment, funding, jobs, eligibilities, etc., and follow said recipient throughout their lifetime.
How do you fit into a society that skews toward the middle when you don't? It’s hard. You never feel like you belong. You are rejected by the main body of the group. You feel unwelcome, unwanted, unacceptable. Is there a place for you?
It’s not easy to find one's niche in life. However, there is usually a community for everyone. You must look for like-minded souls and situations where you feel comfortable. You must seek out your tribe.
How do you go about it? The first step is to figure out what it is about you or yours that makes you or them an outcast from the mainstream. Then, search for people and places where your “thing” is acceptable.
I have always had a loud, projecting voice. All my life, people have told me to speak more quietly, and the rude ones just show irritation as they bark at me to "shush" while holding their index finger over their lips lest I don't understand. The truth is that I don't even realize when my voice gets loud. It does so when I'm tense, over-stressed, or tired. It has become worse as my hearing has deteriorated. People don't understand that. Many just think that I don't care about their admonition.
I discovered acting eighteen years ago. Now, I'm lauded for my loud, projecting voice. Yes, I fit in; my acting group admires my vocal abilities.
To find your kindred folks, you will need terminology to help you navigate. Is your child ADHD? Is your brother morbidly obese? Are you depressed? Is your mother an addictive personality? Yes, these and other painful labels have been thrust upon many, but they are also communication tools to help ferret out and find those who are similar and supportive.
Networking with others helps you learn about opportunities. The library can be a great resource as can the Internet. Use those labels you've always hated to your advantage, and find your clan.
Default Position (February 4, 2019)
A friend recently told me that my default position is positive. I'd never thought of it like that. Yes, our natural inclination as well as our life experiences do give us a default position. It's that mode we always return to no matter what happens to us.
Default positions range on a scale from positive to negative, and there are infinite degrees in between. What is your default position? Is it satisfying to you?
In my case, when something upsetting or unsettling happens in my life, I may get bummed out. However, I don't seem to be able to stay down for very long. It doesn't mean I don't feel bad or never get depressed. However, I automatically boomerang back toward the positive end of the spectrum. It comes naturally, and I don't think about it. I don't know why I'm like that.
Those whose default position tends toward the ill-natured extreme may long to move their needle closer to the other end. When such a tendency doesn't come naturally, can you do anything to change it, or are you forever stuck defaulting toward that negative boundary? My take is that you can change a long ingrained tendency, but only if you want it enough and are willing to work long and hard to achieve it.
I have had experiences in my life where my natural inclination was toward a position I hated. I'm thinking of my decades-long worry of incurring the disapproval of others. In my younger years, it was always so hard for me to stand up to people--to rock the boat. If called upon to do something I didn't want to, I'd often go along with it (nothing ever destructive) so people wouldn't dislike me. It took years and a lot of internal struggle to reach a more satisfying position. Probably the seeds of my original tendencies will always exist within me. However, I'm in control now, and I no longer put up with bossy, bullying, or over-bearing humans.
So, yes, it is possible to change. Figure out how badly you want to do so, the steps you need to take, and go to it. It may be daunting, scary, intimidating, overwhelming, and on and on. Nevertheless, DO IT ANYWAY! It could change your life.
Dwelling Decisions (January 21, 2019)
While working, how and where you reside are often dictated by considerations of employment, family, cost, and the like. Once you retire, the options widen. Many stay put in the tried and true–their comfort level. The idea of moving from the family home is too distressing, and they may remodel to suit their aging needs: a mechanical staircase lift, lowered counters, raised cabinets and dishwashers, walk-in (or roll-in) showers, and more. Others who possess nagging wanderlust may venture out to explore different alternatives.
I recently heard from a friend of a friend about her choice. She has become a nomad. She sold her house of thirty years and now moves between the West Coast of the United States, Mexico, and Europe, staying at each for long stints with travel interspersed. When she alights, she finds a short-term rental or stays with friends. She has carved out an interesting lifestyle. Her retirement may seem scary to some and exciting to others. I’ve heard (though it might not be correct) that the same Chinese character designates both danger and opportunity. Regardless of the Chinese alphabet, the metaphor holds.
I know of others who become minimalists, opting for the human version of turtles carrying their homes on their back. These folks give up most worldly possessions, buy an RV, and continuously move about as the whim takes them.
Many downsize and find a like-minded demographic in which to settle such as an active senior retirement community. That was my decision. Still others strike out for distant and exotic lands, domestic or international, to pursue a passion–think Paul Gauguin.
A few friends have mentioned the idea of living with their children or other family members. They would have their own room in the main house. Or, they would occupy a small dwelling in the backyard, thereby creating a family compound. Many years ago, one of my cousins and her husband bought an apartment building with other family members, and each family unit lived in a different apartment. You have to like your relatives an awful lot to make this work.
There’s the story, true or not, of some people living permanently on cruise ships. They have a room, all meals, housekeeping services, a doctor available, and they get to explore exciting destinations.
There is no right or wrong choice. There is just the choice for you. The important thing is that you make it when you can instead of someone else doing it for you when you can’t.
Armful of Dogs (January 7, 2019)
Recently, I visited my friend, Janet, who is a Chihuahua person (a special breed of people). I spent a lot of time chilling with her two Chihuahua mixes. As soon as I started holding Pepe, Holly jumped up on the bench. I thought she would just sit next to me as is her style. However, she briefly climbed into my lap, not to be outdone by Pepe.
Pepe, a love–easy-going and friendly to all, is the sweet, cuddly type who adores being held and petted. Holly is a lot more skittish–a high strung presence; it takes patience to become her friend. I had to go through her barking and reluctant acceptance each time I entered the house for the duration of my stay. Once Holly gave me the okay, however, she couldn’t get enough of me. Although she didn’t like being held, after a few test sniffs, she tolerated petting. Of course, that required me to bend way down due to her low-slung stature, but I thought of it is good exercise.
Next, I moved on and stayed with my cousin, Gail, where I hung out with her mini-pincher mix, Sarge. Although his appearance matched his name, his personality was the polar opposite. Sarge was loving and licky, frequently jumping onto my lap and hunkering down. So many times when I walked into my bedroom, there was Sarge on my bed, proprietary and anxious to hang out some more.
Why do I love dogs so much? It started in childhood. I begin to notice something special about them that I didn’t notice in human beings. I’ll use dogs as my example, but the same applies to so many animals other than humans. Dogs are loyal, dependable, faithful. With dogs, there is no agenda–what you see is what you get. They are never artificial, duplicitous, political, and will never stab you in the back. Dogs are always happy to see you no matter how crummy you are, how angry, smelly, miserable, or pissy. Dogs love you whether you’re up or you’re down. They never get mad at you, tell you off, ignore you, ostracize you, or pay you back. The only human who even comes close is Mommy, and even she fails the dog test.
The moment I get around a dog, I feel comfortable, relaxed. Dogs’ needs are simple. They don’t require the latest designer clothes, the newest luxury automobile, the trendiest (fill in the blank). They are not into status. Mankind would be well advised to emulate the canines among us.
On the other hand, people are like Pepe, Holly, and Sarge–each has their own personality. Some are warm and seek close contact, while others are nervous and don’t like too much handling. I have great respect for dogs, and I’m always careful never to cause them distress to the best of my ability. Can we be that way with the wide range of humans we encounter? Can we respect their individual personalities and alter our behavior so as not to cause them distress? Don’t we wish people would treat us that way?
There’s no need to come on like gangbusters when you perceive someone is highly uncomfortable with your usual modus operandi. Respect each individual’s personality, and interact with them appropriately so as to maintain their comfort
level. You will be much more likely to have a successful encounter than if you treat everyone with a cookie-cutter approach.
Snowball (December 23, 2018)
I met Snowball some years ago at an EcoFest held on the lawn of the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles, California where I was a docent. Snowball was part of the attractions at the booth of the Los Angeles chapter of the Southwestern Herpetologists Society.
Snowball’s owner, Jarron, adored him/her, just as you or I might adore our child, dog, cat, parrot, monkey, or lemur. He was full of information about Snowball and couldn’t wait to share it with me after I expressed interest. However, he failed to tell me how his pet got its name. I like to imagine Snowball was born or adopted during the winter holiday season.
Jarred explained that monitor lizards are usually aggressive and dangerous in the wild, but Snowball had been bred in captivity and gentled by humans from the time of wee lizardhood. So, he/she was docile and not dangerous. Jarred encouraged me to pet Snowball. Its skin felt dry and bumpy under my fingertips.
FYI (courtesy of Jarred and the Internet): Crocodile monitor lizards, a relative of the Komodo dragon, are native to the jungles of New Guinea. They are thought to be the longest known lizard species in the world, usually growing to five to seven feet in length but sometimes reaching over ten feet long. Two-thirds of their length is in their slender tails which they whip around like a weapon. They have sharp, curved claws to aid in climbing trees. In captivity, they can live eight to twelve years.
I saw other reptile owners cradling and cuddling their pet snakes, lizards, and assorted others of the reptilian persuasion. One guy was walking around with his own large lizard clinging vertically to the front of his sweater like an armor breastplate.
Later, a herpetologist club member approached me while I was manning the La Brea Tar Pits Museum booth. She was extremely distraught and crying.
“Do you know anyone in the museum who would like a dead snake,” she wanted to know.
I had never been asked such a question before nor anything remotely similar. It seems that when she had taken her pet snake out of its cage, it was dead. She had owned and adored it for over twenty-five years. She wanted to donate it to a good cause. Amazingly, after a few inquiries, I was able to find a potential recipient of her prize. He was a young, part-time employee of the museum. He planned to use the snake in practicing to build scaffolds for disarticulated, ancient animal bones to display in natural history museums, a pursuit he hoped to make his career. Snake giver and snake receiver conversed and struck a deal.
Beauty is definitely in the eyes of the beholder. We each see beauty in our love objects regardless if they are ugly, strange, weird, or off-putting to others. Be grateful for those who love you. You may seem ugly, strange, weird, or off-putting to some, too.
A Tandakoan's Reflection on an Obituary (December 9, 2018)
I opened an email from my longtime, high school girlfriend, Sheila. Part of it read, "this was surprising in today's newspaper." There was an attachment, so I clicked on it to find an obituary with a photograph of a woman I didn't recognize.
As I read further, I realized she had been a classmate of ours, and we had all graduated high school together. I've saved the patch from my class sweater of the emblem of our senior class: the Tandakoans, for fifty-nine years.
Why do we keep such trivial objects? Probably because they are symbols of passage. Passages are events that mark major turning points in our lives. Among all the minutiae of our existence that are quickly forgotten, these are the happenings that we remember year after year. We might celebrate or bemoan them in a ceremonial manner on special anniversaries.
I remember when I turned fifty, Sheila organized a Brownie Troop reunion. Those attending showed up with photographs of our troop members, Brownie and Girl Scout badges, and other nostalgic items they had kept for decades. Our lives are filled with passages. An obituary marks the final one.
I hadn't seen Judy since graduation, but I remembered her as a bouncy girl with a quick smile and a ponytail. The obituary said she had died following a long battle with ovarian cancer. One by one, our ranks are thinning. Reading about Judy, I couldn't stave off thoughts of: when will it be my turn?
Does that frighten me; does that concern me? Yes and no. I'm frightened of the unknown, but not of the finality of it, maybe because I don't even understand what that means.
Can I choose how to make my final passage? I certainly don't want the path that Judy took or anything like it. Living my life to the fullest and going suddenly in my sleep is my preferred choice. But, all I can do is hope for that and do the living-my-life-to-the-fullest part in the meantime.
Waiting for Upcycle Days (November 25, 2018)
Life is cyclical. It’s like a wave with peaks and valleys. The peaks–the good times–are exciting and exhilarating. But they can never be sustained. Life intervenes to drop us into the valleys–the bad times. It happens to all of us.
No, that guy at work, the neighbor down the block, the classmate at school for whom things always seem to go right are not imbued with some fairy godmother granting their every wish. They just do a better job of covering up their valleys than others do. Don't ever think that only your life sucks and everyone else's is wonderful. It doesn't work like that. We all ride the cycles of life.
So, how do we weather those valleys; how do we survive? One way is to keep looking toward that metaphorical horizon for signs of the next peak peeking over as you slog your way through. It’s hard and takes constant vigilance to maintain a positive attitude.
It is easy to become discouraged and impatient hoping for things to turn around. There is not an assured time line. We can’t know when the peaks will happen, when the valleys will happen, and how long the span between them. We have no choice but to wait it out. How we do the waiting is up to us.
We can become depressed, we can rail, we can act out. Or, we can try to use the lull positively as we wait for it to pass. Get to work on that story you always wanted to write. Learn that new skill you always wanted to master. Reach out and connect with those people and places you never had the time to do before. Take up jogging, walking, gardening, tennis, knitting, gourd carving, whatever. Even the down spells can have little seeds of positivity embedded in them.
Remember, without the valleys, you can’t appreciate the peaks.
The Boot (November 11, 2018)
Almost forty years ago, a wartime drama film, "Das Boot," was released to movie theaters. It took place on a German submarine during WWII. Das Boot actually translates from German as: the boat. However, in my case, I am interpreting the literal English meaning: the boot--you know, for a foot.
Yes, the boot has come into my life. Although I don't anticipate a submarine attack from my particular one, its arrival has similarities. It was stealthy, unexpected, and out of nowhere.
It started a few weeks ago when I was returning a rental car at the airport. While walking to the pickup area to catch my Uber ride, I failed to see that my narrow sidewalk--with rental cars whizzing by on each side--took one step down. Yep, one step down is how I went--horizontally! Long story short, I broke my fifth metatarsal bone in not one but two places. Hence, "the boot."
That minor misstep has cut me down. The boot, upon which I am dependent to get around along with an attendant cane, has ruled my life for several weeks now. It dictates where I go, how fast I go, and how often I go. Lacing up the six, mean looking Velcro straps of the contraption alone wears me out. However, I must do so several times a day for foot icing, showering, and sleeping.
Friends from out of town visited for a get-together we had planned months earlier. I had to alter my plans to go out and about with them and to travel for a few days after they stayed in my home. I knew I couldn't do the walking, hiking, hill climbing, stair stepping, metro riding, etc., so I begrudgingly opted to stay put as they departed.
So many unforeseen mishaps change our plans, routines, trajectories. Most people have had their own version of "the boot." It commands your undivided attention while everything else is put on hold.
How do we survive a case of "the boot"? It's not easy; it clips your wings. However, we must survive and carry on. I'm doing a lot of staying in/sitting down stuff: busy work that has been on hold for months, phone calling, clearing out my overloaded email box, mending clothes... Actually, it feels good to get a handle on mundane things that have been relegated to the back burner and gotten out of hand.
Try to make the best of your downtime. What other choice do you have? And remember, be careful--it's dangerous out there, folks--sigh!
Jangled on a Train (October 28, 2018)
I arrived some months ago at the San Diego train station ready to board an Amtrak Southern Coaster to travel up the coast of California on my way to my cousin’s house. I had not taken the train in years, and I was pretty excited about the whole thing.
I explained to the ticket clerk that I had just flown into the airport, and my ears were clogged from the landing, so I probably wouldn’t be able to hear the public announcement to board the train. She directed me to the handicapped section where an attendant personally retrieves those waiting there and accompanies them to the train.
When the time came, I walked next to a passenger in his motorized wheelchair who told me he took the train often. We were seated in a special car just for handicapped people.
Much of my ride was spent multitasking–conducting business on my cell phone while looking out the window at the vista as it flashed by. The combination of my clogged ears, the clickety-clack of the train wheels, and the periodic poor phone reception made it difficult to converse.
Apparently, my voice was getting progressively louder unbeknownst to me. Suddenly, a hand appeared from nowhere and dropped a note onto the fold-down table in front of me which held all my business correspondence. It read: Seriously? (double underlined) Quiet!! Do we all “have to” listen to your conversation? Sh-sh-sh! Thank you
Oops, I had offended someone, although I didn’t realize that because one is handicapped one requires exceptional quiet. Nevertheless, I turned around to identify my assailant and assumed it must be the woman sitting two rows behind me who was hiding behind a seatback.
I stated in a raised voice, “I apologize if I offended you, but you are always welcome to change your seat.” She did not respond.
I continued my phone conversation but did ratchet it down several notches. A short while later, my assailant passed by holding a professionally printed sign which she held up briefly in front of me. It said something like: Be quiet, this is a handicapped car. She then made her way further down the car and showed it to other perceived offenders.
I thought to myself, what a poor soul, and said to her as she trailed past, “I’m so sorry that I disturbed you.” Her response: “I don’t care!”
Yes, it made me feel like shouting a retort at her back as she continued down the aisle. I stopped myself realizing that this woman had enough aggravation in her life, and I could be charitable and not add to it.
If you are spending your brief time on this earth trying to modify the behavior of others to make yourself more comfortable, it won’t work. Focus your efforts on modifying your own behavior. In this case, the woman could have simply inserted noise-control earplugs or earbuds attached to a music device.
If you are impacted by someone like the aforementioned passenger, remember to be charitable and understanding of their quirks. After all, your life is probably so much fuller than theirs, and I bet you have a few quirks of your own.
What’s in the Stroller? (October 13, 2018)
I was sitting on a metro train a few weeks ago next to a woman with a Chihuahua in her lap. She kept stroking it and talking to it. The lady seemed a bit deranged. She had a knitted cap pulled over her hair, no teeth, and her clothing seemed mismatched. Parked in front of her was a baby stroller with a second Chihuahua in it. I’m sure both dogs occupied the stroller together when the woman was out and about on her daily routine.
Periodically, the dog owner attempted to make eye contact with people nearby as she chatted about her dogs. Most just ignored her or averted their gaze. A mother with a young child held it close to her, protectively, lest the child catch anything the woman might transmit such as a compromised mental state.
Over about a ten-minute period as I watched from my perch while trying not to be obvious about it, the owner pulled out a plush toy from the stroller, which she snuggled against the face of first one of the dogs and then the other. She also pulled out food and broke off little pieces which she fed to the dogs, occasionally popping a morsel into her own mouth.
After observing her for quite a while, I said “you certainly take very good care of your dogs.” Starved for conversation, she immediately began discussing the dogs with me. We chatted for the rest of the ride, about five minutes, on the subject of how much joy the dogs have brought to her life.
I looked at the dog on her lap and addressed it by the name she had called it: Mister. Mister immediately jumped into my lap and hunkered down. His owner was delighted and loved sharing one of her most precious possessions with me as I scratched Mister behind his ears.
When I departed the train, I again complemented my seat companion on what a good and caring owner she was. She beamed a beautiful, toothless smile at me.
Can we be willing to reach out to others who are not so cool, not so trendy, maybe a little socially offensive? Can we take that moment to connect with another fragile human being, toothless or not, smartly dressed or not? That encounter did as much for me as it did for her.
The Entitled (September 27, 2018)
Some people seem to think that they are more entitled to the goodies of life than others. They’re the ones who fight to be first in selecting everything. Here are a few examples: they rush to the best seats, cut in line, cherry-pick the choicest portion of the communal food, maneuver themselves into the most advantageous spots, grab the… Well, you get the idea.
These are the same folks who think they can buy or manipulate their way in or out of anything. They may use different ploys to advance their agenda. “I’m rich, so I should have a more luxurious (fill in the blank)”; I’m well-known, so I deserve a better (fill in the blank)”; “I’m sickly, so I merit a more advantageous (fill in the blank),” I’m elderly, so I require a more comfortable (fill in the blank);” and on and on. Everyone can find a reason in their life why they should be more entitled than you, me, him, her, them, or whomever.
I was on a tour years ago in some exotic location, and we went out daily in a Land Rover to navigate the rough terrain. One woman always got there early and sat in the front passenger seat. She told us all that she had a bad knee, and the extra legroom allowed her to stretch out her leg. Coincidentally, that also happened to be the best seat in the house, offering the choicest view out of the panoramic front window as well as a prime location next to the driver/tour guide so every morsel of his spiel could be captured. One day, we arrived to see a man from our group in that coveted seat. The aforementioned woman was forced to sit in another spot. "Would you mind changing seats with me so I can stretch out my sore knee," she said to him sweetly. I loved his response which was no response at all. He didn't say a word and didn't budge. It was wonderful to see our entitled member confronted in such a silent manner, as we were all pretty sick of her uncanny need to always require the most desirable of everything on that trip.
It's a little unclear how these self-perceived, entitled beings got that way. Perhaps mommy and daddy enabled it as they were growing up. It could be a result of their feelings of deprivation. Maybe it's an adaptation to the natural competition among the seven billion plus of us on this planet. Of course, we all use our talents, skills, and abilities to get our "piece of the pie." But, the entitled of the world take it to another level altogether.
Are you among the always entitled, or do you know someone like that? Folks of such an attitude, position, or outlook are completely off-putting to everyone else. We are all human beings, and we live in close proximity to each other, jostling around like nervous atoms trying to get comfortable and find our place. One person is not more special or important than anyone else, although he/she would like to be.
Let’s be grown up and fair about this. Let everybody in your sphere have a chance for the best this or the finest that. When it’s always about you, you may find that you’re no longer in competition because you no longer have anyone who is willing to be involved with you in any way. You will be left to enjoy your best this or finest that all by your best and finest lonesome self.
Come into the Modern World (September 12, 2018)
It's easy to get left behind with the rapid-fire changes that have happened in our lifetime: new ideas, new discoveries, new ways of living, new technology, and on and on. Each time something new happens, it presents us with a steep learning curve.
Now, in order to buy the latest car, some dealerships offer classes on how to operate the darn thing with all its technology components and gadgetry. Today's television sets come with a remote control reminiscent of a cockpit dashboard.
More and more people are shying away from the pressure and falling further and further behind. However, the alternative is worse as their world gets smaller and they become isolated .
When friends and groups I belong to plan events, email blasts are what notify the participants. It's sad when someone wants to be a part of the activity but defensively admits that they don't know how to use a computer. No one volunteers to call them for each update and chance playing the irritating game of telephone tag.
I remember my resistance to learning to use the Internet because of the difficulty in understanding it. I insisted that my life functioned just fine the way it was, and that if I didn't already know something, I wasn't interested. The turning point came well over a decade ago. After trying to convince me unsuccessfully for a few years, one day my son said the magic words: “Mom, come into the modern world.”
Yes, I envied those who were able to use email to communicate instantaneously. Yes, I too wanted to access the knowledge of the ages with a few keystrokes. And, most of all, I wanted to make my son proud of me.
I took the plunge and enrolled in a school. I signed up for one course in word processing and another course in the Internet. The latter was so difficult to grasp that I continued to attend it over and over for an entire year until I finally got it.
The truth is, the Internet has opened my life in ways I never imagined. Writing this blog is one of them. The best of all, however, is that I can email with my son, and it blows his mind when I talk tech-speak with him. Yes, he is proud of mom.
Life Is a Labyrinth (August 28, 2018)
Some months ago, I strolled a lovely community labyrinth. Some anonymous person or persons had searched for the stones, gathered them, hauled them to the site, and laid them out in an intricate maze, all so I could enjoy it and discover its message. Labyrinths date back more than 4000 years and have been found all over the world. Although many dead ends abound for the labyrinth voyager, there is only one pathway which leads to the center–the goal.
As I made my way around the contortions of this ancient puzzle, it set the stage for quiet, contemplation, solitude, and peace. I felt relaxed and had these thoughts:
Life is a labyrinth. We go around in circles seeking our goal but often hit one barrier after the next. When we reach a dead end, we are forced to retrace our steps and try a new direction. We can visualize what we seek, even see it. Sometimes, it seems so close, and yet we are quite far. At other times, it seems so far, yet we are actually very close.
We each travel on our own personal quest. We are surrounded by the same environment as our neighbors, but we view it differently, experience it differently, interact with it differently, each in our own reality bubble.
Yes, we can take shortcuts. We can step over the boundaries of the labyrinth and rush to the end. But, we’ve shortchanged ourselves. We’ve forgotten the importance of the process which is how we learn about life so we can appreciate and benefit from the eventual attainment of our objective. Otherwise, we have no understanding of what we have reached, and we may destroy it with our ignorance.
Don’t fight the labyrinth. Embrace it. Follow it. Grab it. Don’t rush things–focus, go with the flow as they say. This is not a contest–no winners and losers. Discover the pace that works for you; discover which path works for you. It’s different for everyone. The wealth is attained from the journey, not the completion.
Half-Assed vs. Whole Assed (August 13, 2018)
Some people put a tremendous amount of effort into what they do: jobs, leisure time, parenting, helping others, and so forth. Other people do as little as possible on such activities. Why is that?
Let's look at the workplace for example. When I was working at my career as a probation officer, it was obvious to all my co-workers who the people were who really did a good job and who did as little as they could to just get by. The latter group was not bad enough to be fired; they managed to produce to the level of being barely competent. I could never understand their motivation or lack thereof.
The way I see it, even if you don't particularly like your job or work, you still have to devote a significant number of hours to it. It's just too boring not to tackle your task with effort and enthusiasm. If you must do the time, do so in a way that brings reward to yourself.
Performing a half-assed job is fraught with negativity, yields feelings of inadequacy, and produces minimal reward. Doing a whole-assed job gives you a sense of accomplishment, esteem from peers and superiors, and pride in yourself. This dichotomy can be extrapolated to all areas of your life: your home, your work, your relationships, and your leisure time.
Even the great Albert Einstein worked a day job for seven years in a patent office before leaving to take over the chair in theoretical physics at the University of Zurich. Purportedly, he was well-liked and even received a promotion at that earlier, survival job which he referred to as his "cobbler's trade."
If you must be a waiter while trying to bag that great acting role, why not be the best waiter you can be? Those seconds, minutes, hours, and so forth spent at the job are the same amounts of time deducted from your lifespan. So why not make them as rewarding to yourself as possible?
Clowny (July 25, 2018)
I’m guessing that most people have experienced a devastating incident or many during the difficult time of growing up. Dragging childhood pain through the decades shapes our adulthood. The memory of one in my life remains fresh and clear sixty-two years later.
I was about fourteen, shy, scrawny, and very concerned about what others thought of me. Girls were just starting to wear lipstick, and I coveted jumping into the adult world with such a daring step.
At that time, there was a company called Ponds which featured as its main product a cold cream, the equivalent of today’s facial moisturizer; the company is still in business. Ponds was testing a possible expansion into the makeup field and was giving out free samples of lipstick in tiny tubes. My mother acquired a few and gave me one to inaugurate my foray into being a real woman.
I practiced applying my Ponds lipstick sampler until I got it just right. D-Day arrived for my first appearance at school as the new and sophisticated me. I’ve never forgotten that day so many decades ago because of one word.
I walked into my first period class which was girls' gym. The locker room was filled with my female classmates changing into their gym clothes. They all turned as I entered. One girl (I still remember her name) took a look at my bright, red lips contrasted with my remaining washed out complexion and pronounced, “You look like a clown. We should call you Clowny.” Everyone laughed and immediately took up the chant: “Clowny, Clowny, Clowny.”
My goal in life was to not call attention to myself, but I had managed to achieve the polar opposite only because I wanted to act grown-up like the rest of the girls. I was humiliated! Trying not to cry in front of my harassers, I ran to the bathroom, grabbed some toilet paper, and wiped off that stupid Ponds lipstick, not to be attempted again for at least two years.
That didn’t stop the fun the others were having. Clowny remarks followed me for the next few weeks not only in the gym but in other classes I shared with some of them.
Memories such as these mold our grown-up selves. Some use such experiences to become compassionate adults, remembering the cruel rites of passage they encountered themselves. Others do the opposite by seeking victims to extract the revenge they were unable to mete out to their original tormentors. If your aim is to assuage your pain, choose the compassionate path as it will yield you a much higher return.
The Passive-Aggressive Jab (July 11, 2018)
What I’ve termed the “passive-aggressive jab” (PAJ) is definitely a one-two punch thrown when you aren’t looking. It’s that oh-so-subtle put down that you can’t quite define, can’t quite grasp. The PAJ is usually delivered when you’re off-guard, and all of a sudden you sense that everything feels weird.
The jab thrower might be a friend, relative, boss, teacher, co-worker, acquaintance, stranger, or any other relationship description. He/she might have a pleasant smile on his face during the punch, so you doubt that it was really meant the way it made you feel. You wonder if you are wrong in your assessment, and you doubt your own sanity.
Am I crazy, or did he just say that?
The puncher’s comment is usually structured so it can be interpreted in different ways. You wonder what kind of a person you are to attribute it in such a negative manner. Maybe he meant it in the best possible light, and you’re the creep.
Over time, you begin to notice more such behavior on the part of the jabber. After a while, you begin to suspect that you were right all along. However, any confrontation will yield something like “What are you talking about? That’s not what I meant.”
You have been turned into the bad guy. He and anyone else he can enlist into his camp look at you askance and defend poor him.
Why do people behave that way? It doesn’t matter. If such behavior stokes his ego in some fashion, that is not your problem to figure out or fix. What is your problem is how to combat such conduct when it’s aimed at you? It’s hard, but it can be done.
First, you have to realize that you’ve been the victim of the passive-aggressive jab. Next, you have to swerve to avoid it, just like the boxer does to deflect the hit. In this case, it’s an emotional swerve. Here are some countermeasures you might employ:
1. Refuse to engage!
2. Don’t respond, even when you suspect that a grenade has just landed at your feet.
3. Resist retaliating in kind; that only becomes a pissing match of put-downs.
4. Stare him down.
5. Wait for an opportune moment where you can whisper privately to him, “I’m not playing that game.”
6. Take your leave, either physically or emotionally.
7. Socialize with others present and avoid your attacker.
8. Maintain self-control.
Remember not to try to reason with him. That’s what he wants so he can make himself look like an innocent. Instead, try some of the above suggested techniques. If one doesn’t cut it, try another. Create some of your own. Make them work for you.
The Big Reveal (June 26, 2018)
We all want to put our proverbial best foot forward when trying to attract a mate (or even friends). In this highly competitive endeavor, many hedge their truths, puffing up their more desirable accomplishments or traits and downplaying the not-so-flattering aspects. After all, we don’t want to drive someone away before they even get a chance to learn to adore wonderful us.
The grumpy, negative person plasters on a happy face. The older person chops a few years off their age. The not quite-wealthy enough person adds a zero or two to their net worth, presenting his/her Mercedes as paid in full when it is really leased. The not-quite-educated-enough person adds a degree or two. Makeup, hair dye, clothing, and surgical enhancements all play their part to this end. But, what happens when the sucker—ah, potential mate—learns the truth?
In lockstep with the above overt deceptions are the covert deceptions. These take the form of “failing to mention.” If you murdered your mother and just got out of prison, don’t mention it and the sucker—sorry, potential mate will never be the wiser, at least not in the beginning.
Many practitioners of the aforementioned arts eventually are forced into “the big reveal.” After the sucker—ah, potential mate—is hooked and “in love,” a circumstance may occur where the hidden fact seeps out. It could be something like guilt which propels the blurted-out truth or a situation where the practitioner is caught not knowing something he/she should in their purported position.
I remember many years ago where a co-worker told the others in the office that she had a PhD in anthropology. Everyone believed her; after all, who would lie about a thing like that? One day, the subject of Anthropologist Louis Leakey of Olduvai Gorge fame was the topic of conversation in the coffee room. Our resident anthropology PhD didn’t know who he was, information that every student of that discipline learns in Anthropology 101. Well, that started the entire staff questioning anything she had ever claimed about herself, a despicable situation to be in.
What happens when you and (fill in the blank) are married or at least have been significant others for years, and your secret comes out? I know someone who was not quite as divorced as she had claimed to her live-in boyfriend of many years. She was outed by a casual remark from a guest at a party they attended. Their relationship began to unravel from there.
What about the stark check boxes on your online dating profile? In this age of connection via internet, you only have a photo and some brief text to catch your fish. It’s almost a given that years are shaved off ages, photos are out-of-date, and other data is tweaked. There are even professional profile writers you can hire to help put that aforementioned best foot forward.
Eventually that shaving, tweaking, and other manners of deception will have its way. It may take years, but it will. I have one friend who did her “big reveal” of lying about her age after a few dates with a man she had met online. He became very angry and walked out in a huff complete with swirling dust clouds. This same friend subsequently met another man online, again lied about her age, eventually did the “big reveal,” and he didn’t care. They are now happily living together.
So, there you go. The big reveal can be malignant or benign. Ya pays yer money and ya takes yer chances.
Lying as a Lifestyle (June 13, 2018)
I guess we’ve all told lies of one sort or another, little white lies and not so little white lies. We have different motives for doing so: to keep our personal information private, to keep from hurting another person’s feelings because we’re worried about the reaction of others, and so on. The right or wrong of such behavior is a matter of degree for each individual.
Some feel that telling little white lies to save the feelings of another is just a kindness. Pushing the envelope in how they present themselves, other folks might feel, is justified as it’s nobody else’s business. But, how about when lying becomes a lifestyle?
There are some people who lie about so many things just because they can. When found out, others wonder “why” since it seems so petty and unnecessary. For people engaged in such a lifestyle practice, lying feeds upon itself and becomes pathological. They lie to always put themselves in the most favorable light at any given moment. However, what they fail to understand is that once branded a liar, they remain forever in an unfavorable light.
Then there are those who deliberately withhold significant information under the guise of, “well, I didn’t lie.” I’ve had that experience a few times in my life with significant others who failed to mention very compelling facts about themselves and kept that deception going for years until I finally found out or they admitted it to me. Yes, it was information that might have defeated the relationship from the beginning, so I guess they sensed that and kept their secret so I wouldn’t walk away. It just seems to me that that is no way to have a friendship or relationship–based on falsehoods. Yet, that behavior goes on with so many. I wonder if the perpetrators are really content or satisfied with what they have sown.
The trouble with lies is that you have to remember them and keep feeding them. To the practitioner, it must become an exhausting endeavor, like the juggler spinning plates on sticks, running from one end of the line to the other to stoke each twirling disc as it begins to slow down and threatens to crash. What an unenviable position. Consider carefully the possible consequences before telling a lie. Is it really worth it?
Tone It Down (May 30, 2018)
Why do some people feel that it is their place to tell others how to behave? I can understand if the person is in a position where that is expected such as a teacher, employer, parent, mentor. But, what about when the teller is simply a peer who has decided to take on that role?
I had an experience not too long ago where I was on a tour of an historical house with other people from a club I belong to. At one point, the entire group was crowded into the bathroom while the docent discussed various features. When I noticed an odd-looking metal tank over the bathtub, I put my fingertip on it and asked the docent, “What’s this?”
One member of the assemblage who I barely knew stated in a loud, scolding voice, “Don’t touch that; that’s an antique!” Her manner and resonant baritone caused everyone in that room, about twenty people, to turn around and stare at the miscreant–me.
Technically, she was correct. I should not have touched it. I did so without even thinking. However, this woman’s delivery and self-appointed authoritarianism was completely out of line. She treated me as though I were a misbehaved child.
What she might have done was take me aside privately after the fact and mention in a calm, nonjudgmental voice that it is not advisable to touch antiques as the oil from skin can be harmful to them. If someone behaves that way toward you, you might take them aside and, in a calm, nonjudgmental voice, notify them that you are not interested in their unsolicited opinion of your behavior.
If you position yourself as an uninvited arbiter of your peers, tone it down a notch or ten. No one is interested in being judged or dominated by you. If you find yourself being ostracized by others, and you have no idea why, perhaps that is the reason. How would you like it if somebody behaved that way toward you?
Keep Your Promises (May 14, 2018)
When we make a promise, it's a commitment to do what we pledged we would do. It can be something as simple as meeting someone at a specific time and date, or something as large as paying for someone's college education.
Because promises historically have been misunderstood or deliberately rescinded, society has created oath taking. In America, this usually involves raising your right hand and swearing, often on a revered object or person, to keep a promise be it telling the truth, fighting for your county, or matters of similar gravity.
Going further to insure keeping promises, the law created an instrument called a contract. Often, when we enter the complex and important promise relationship, we sign a document binding us to follow through on what we promised. If it doesn't go smoothly according to the plan, we have courts of law with judges who will hear evidence and decide on how the promise should be interpreted and what each party is obligated to do.
In our private lives, we don't have courts of law to force us to fulfill our promises, we only have our word. Others to whom we have made promises depend on them and might even make life altering plans according to the terms of our promise.
Are you a person who follows through with your promises, or are you one whose pattern is to break your promises when you want to manipulate the situation, when you get angry, when you're not in the mood, or for a myriad of other reasons that suit you at the moment? If you fall into the former category, those in your life most likely trust you and value their relationship with you. If, instead, the latter classification describes you, those in your life probably don't trust you and avoid ever depending upon you or making promises themselves that you might depend on. Worse yet, they might break promises made to you without a second thought as that has become the established modus operandi of your relationship.
Being pegged as one who can't be depended upon to keep your promises, you isolate yourself to a lonely cave. So, if you have no clue as to why people in your life have withdrawn from you, take a look at your own behavior, and see if part of it involves failing to keep your promises.
Retire Toward Something (April 30, 2018)
Today, I have a guest blogger, C. Hope Clark, an award-winning writer of two mystery series (Carolina Slade and the Edisto Island mysteries). She speaks to conferences, libraries, and book clubs across the country, is a regular podcaster for Writer’s Digest, and is also the founder of FundsforWriters.com, an award-winning site and newsletter service for writers. www.chopeclark.com To read the Featured Article I wrote and she published in her newsletter four years ago, click here: Promoting Your Book. I find Hope’s thoughts enlightening. Here is her post:
Retire Toward Something
When I was administrative director of a federal agency in South Carolina, one of my departments was Human Resources. We employed between 200-300 people, and I could at any time tell you who was eligible for retirement. Each and every time one approached me to talk about putting in their papers, I asked, “Why are you retiring?”
“I’m tired of this job.”
“I just don’t find the get-up-and-go in me anymore.”
“So I can sleep as late as I want.”
“To fish.”
When the answers appeared vague, I would show my concern. “Don’t you have plans for all that spare time you’ll have on your hands?”
Most said they wanted no plans. Only a handful had orchestrated a new direction for their next life. The ones without direction usually aged the fastest. It pained me to hear of someone’s demise within a year of leaving us. Every one of those I heard of, had no plan.
I called it retiring to rot.
It’s a pipe dream to think we want limitless free time without obligation. Human beings need missions. Those missions don’t have to be corporate-level strategies. They can be goals like:
“Traveling to 40 states in three years.”
“Writing a novel and getting it published in two years.”
“Going back to school for a degree in ____.”
“Opening a small business.”
“Building a house.”
“Volunteering for charity.”
“Running for office.”
I also call it retiring TO something instead of running FROM their work. The same goes for anyone who quits a job. They might not like the employer, but without someplace to land when they take the leap, they often crash. Freedom doesn’t mean just sitting around. Freedom means freedom to pursue other interests.
Of course, if you don’t like your choice, you can change direction. You are free to morph as you please. What’s important is that you not feel lost, only eager to try novel ventures.
I worked 25 years with the federal government, but because I was writing on the side, and thoroughly in love with it, I took an early retirement at age 46. I was also royally fed up with the bureaucracy and politics, but I refused to leave until I had my ducks in a row to leave FOR fresh purpose.
On that last day the technician on my staff, who also served as my secretary, walked me to the parking lot, helping me carry boxes. I was touched at the tears in her eyes.
“You let them get the best of you,” she said.
“Honey,” I said. “Don’t you see that I’m the winner here?”
She was so ingrained with the concept you worked until you were spent and in your sixties, that she thought I’d lost some sort of competition. Instead, there I was, walking on air, while she interpreted it as walking away. I recognized the open door of opportunity and ran through. I’ve been writing full-time for 15 years now and have never regretted one single day.
The freedom was exhilarating and dizzying, but I moved forward with a freelance career, writing for magazines and online, with goals. I started a newsletter for writers about paths for writing income and morphed into a website owner and editor.
I escorted a published author to a book signing at the request of a local bookstore, and the author asked what I wrote. I replied I did commercial freelance work and ran a website, and she prompted me to return to a novel I put on the shelf four years earlier. While dusting it off was painful and the rewrite intensely time consuming, I vowed to make it worth publication.
After 72 queries to literary agents, I landed one. Eighteen months later, I had a publishing contract. Today, I’ve published two nonfiction books and eight mysteries and won a handful of awards. Writer’s Digest hires me to do webinars for them. Conferences, libraries, and book clubs invite me to speak, teach, and sign books. I’ve had a close call for a cable television series, but my second agent isn’t giving up the effort to make that happen.
No, I didn’t have an English degree or journalism training. My degree was in agriculture. I just loved to write and decided that the second half of my life would be utilized pursuing what I enjoy. The key word there is pursuing, not waiting for life to drop opportunity in my lap. The waiting is what kills us early.
Reasons why we retire TO something rather than run AWAY from something are these: The idea of a mission keeps us physically and mentally more active. Want to stave off Alzheimer’s? Stay busy. Pursuing a dream you’ve delayed can rejuvenate you and lengthen your lifespan. Positivity and purpose matter when it comes to health. Leave to enjoy achievement in a fresh direction. Show you have much to offer the world. To set an example to your children, and their children. Regardless your age, family is watching. Those coming up behind you are taking notes on how they want to spend the rest of their lives.
Decide what would make you feel whole and happy and strike out toward it. Only then do you leave something else behind. With all that energy and enthusiasm of using freedom as you’d like, on your terms, you’ll find you’ve never felt more motivated in your life.
My Body Won't Cooperate with My Lifestyle (April 16, 2018)
My body is getting more and more uncooperative as it and I grow older together. Where is that gal who could ski all day and boogie into the night? Where is that woman who could travel the world, exploring other cultures from early morning to late in the evening? Where is that multitasking me who could work full time, raise children, run a household, and still squeeze in friends and fun--all at the same time?
These days, corpus meum seems to have a mind of its own independent of my thoughts and desires. Regardless of what I direct it to do, it does its own thing. It has cramped my style more than once. It’s so hard to accept that I'm no longer in control; I want a divorce! I’ll find a new body that is much more in sync with how I envision myself.
I'm in pretty good health, but small, irritating things are happening to my body. When I finally accept and cope with one, another springs up. When I think I’ve got everything pretty much under control, MB morphs and “wham,” it’s another change I have to incorporate.
Friends and acquaintances tell me the same thing is happening to them. What to do, what to do? Well, we can try railing to the wind and lamenting our lot. Dumping on anyone who will listen is another possibility. Hunkering down with the covers over our head is a third way to go. Unfortunately, those options only waste time and put off the inevitable of accepting and becoming comfortable with the new you.
New You doesn’t have the energy level that Old You had. NY gets tired more easily. NY doesn’t bounce back so fast from illnesses, upsets, or just about anything else that comes your way. NY can become a true PIA (pain in the ass). Nevertheless, NY is all you have, and you can’t go back to OY no matter how much you wish it, how much you try, how much you rail.
So, you have two choices: accept NY, come to terms with your aging body, and embrace all the things you can still do, or reject NY and be miserable. And remember, if you're stuck in the latter, you can always switch to the former.
A Hitch in Your Gitalong (April 2, 2018)
Many of you may remember Gabby Hayes who was an actor in Western films in the 1930s and 1940s. He often played a wizened, cantankerous old coot who was the sidekick or cook on cattle drives. In one of those roles, he had a limp and explained when asked about it, “I got a hitch in my gitalong.”
We all develop a hitch in our gitalongs of one sort or another in our later years. We might not limp, but we slow down. We can’t walk as far as we used to. Maybe our hips hurt, or our knees, calves, shins, ankles, soles, heels, toes, whatevers. Maybe our stamina is not as long lasting as it was decades earlier. Maybe our mental capacity isn’t as cooperative.
Whatever the reason, don’t drop out; seek help. There are all types of assistive devices such as canes, walkers, wheelchairs, etc. I saw a man riding on his motorized wheelchair, not letting his hitch stop him. He was boogieing along, enjoying what the outdoors offers.
Too many people become reclusive as seniors, not wanting to display or even admit their various hitches. Many become depressed or withdrawn, embarrassed for others to see them as they’ve aged. Don’t do that; be kind to yourself. What would you say to someone else you saw doing such a thing? Wouldn’t you encourage him/her to move forward, hitch and all?
We must grab life with whatever means we have. Some of us have more capabilities than others. If you are not disabled, don’t take that for granted. Be mindful of how fortunate you are, as not everyone is. If you are disabled, technology makes it easier for you to embrace life.
Take a walk whether it’s with your own legs or your own wheels. Observe the bounty that nature puts forth. A wildflower growing at the edge of the road can be a thing of great beauty viewed with the right perspective.
We all have a finite time of life. We also have choices. Choose how you are going to live your remaining years, months, days, hours, minutes. If you decide to squander them on “poor me” behaviors, own the fact that you made that decision.
You are not committed to your choice in perpetuity. You can revise it at any time which, of course, is another choice. Utilize whatever is available to assist you. There is no shame in that. Wheels versus legs still access the same exquisite wildflower.
You Don't Get to Cherry Pick (March 19, 2018)
How many times have you looked at others and coveted something they have?
I wish I had such smart children. I wish I were thin like her. I wish I weren't burdened by a needy spouse like him. I wish I had a spouse like him/her. I wish I were rich like… Well, you get the idea.
Those types of thoughts begin to creep in, especially when we are feeling low or in a bad place. Our life sucks and everyone else’s seems to be a fairy-tale with everything right and a happy ending.
Someone once told me about a friend of theirs. The friend was so attractive, had such a good personality, had… So, the relater of the story said he was so envious that he just had to stop being friends with that person. How sad for both of them. Most likely the one who “had it all” was just putting on a good public face.
That’s quite common. We want others to like and admire us, so we hide our bad apple spots. Some even fabricate tales to yield that story book presentation.
I’ve had so many instances in my life where someone I know or have just met or have read about seems to have it all. I’m always surprised when I learn the real truth, and that their facade wasn’t at all what it looked like. A good example is the nasty split between long married and seemingly on top Hollywood couple Brad Pit and Angelina Jolie. Who knew that behind their shiny, solid oak veneer was actually dry-rot?
I remember when the adorable girl in grammar school who lived down the block and had the beautiful curls arranged just so and the expensive clothes I lusted for committed suicide. I remember in junior high school a girl who seemed so sweet, easy going, and well-liked having a nervous breakdown. I remember the popular, high school cheerleader whose parents turned out to be psychologically abusive and distant. I remember in college…, at work…, as a wife…, as a mother…, as a senior…, and on and on. It was the same at every stage of my life.
Take another gander, folks. All those people you’re looking at and coveting have their problems, negatives, and bad times, too, just like you. You don’t get to cherry-pick. You take their whole package or none. So, after carefully inspecting the entire life of the envied one, would you really trade yours for theirs?
I was discussing this concept with a friend not long ago, and she reminded me, “Be careful what you wish for.” That’s so easy to forget. When you long for another’s life to replace your own, take a deeper look with a strong magnifying glass. Yours may start to seem a whole lot better than you thought.
Uber et al (March 4, 2018)
Ah, Uber and its brethren. They use technology to make life easier while simultaneously making it more complicated. Yes, I wanted to be “with it” just like my tech savvy son–to summon a car using my iPhone. So, I decided to brave the learning curve and set out to install the Uber app.
The first mistake I made in my confusion was to sign myself up as an Uber driver. I realized my error as soon as Uber congratulated me on becoming a team member and requested information about my car and driver’s license.
Attempying to unenroll as an Uber driver is a lot harder than enrolling. Although I kept trying to tell the Uber God that I didn’t want to be a driver but just a rider, he/she refused to listen to me and kept insisting I provide my car/DL info. Eventually, Uber got tired of my stalling and kicked me out as a potential driver. I was small potatoes, and they were having none of my foolishness.
I waited a few days to brave the Uber site again. This time, unbeknownst to me how it came about, I did manage to enroll as a rider. An Uber app appeared on the homepage screen of my iPhone. I became one of the cool, trendy types and was going to be chauffeured by Uber.
The first time I called for an Uber pickup, it worked! I was amazed how simple it was, and that I had done it. The ride was pleasant and the driver amiable. All was right with the world, and I was a functioning cog in the Uber machine.
Uber emailed me my receipt and requested input on how I liked the ride. They offered me a visual of five stars, each with a number under it from one to five in a horizontal row. I was supposed to click on these celestial bodies to rate my ride.
My driver had been great, and, of course, I wanted to give him the highest rating: five stars. So, I assumed I was supposed to click on all of the stars. I clicked the star above the number one first whereupon I was kicked off that page and a message appeared in its place sympathizing with me that I had not had a good Uber experience. Apparently, I was supposed to click only on the star over the number five, not on every star. Now, how was I supposed to know that?
Unforgiving Uber God refused to give me an option to revise my evaluation. Guilt took over; I had just given a black mark to the Uber driving record of a very nice guy.
What to do? I navigated the Uber website but couldn’t find any way to connect with Uber. A half-hour later and still navigating, I stumbled upon a contact form to send Uber a message. I explained my error and begged UG to upgrade my evaluation to five stars. Later that day, I received an email that my wish had been granted.
I did not use Uber again for several months. By that time, I forgot about the quirky rating system. Again, in trying to rate my driver, I ended up giving him the lowest possible rating. No more guilt–every man for him/herself–I was sick of the whole thing and refused to play the half-hour navigation game again.
Cut to two years later. I had not used Uber in all that time and forgot the protocol. After arriving late and tired at my home airport, I summoned Uber to take me to my front door. The screen monitor notified me that the trip would cost $33.66.
The drive was pleasant and the driver sweet and chatty. Upon arriving home, I handed him two twenty dollar bills: $33.66 for the fare and the rest for his tip.
“Wow!” he exclaimed.
I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was over a $6 tip. I mean it was about twenty percent of the bill—a fair tip, but hardly warranting a “wow.” Maybe he wasn’t used to any tip at all.
The next day I was checking my emails and found one from Uber. It was a receipt for $33.66 billed to my credit card. How could they do that when I had paid the fare to the driver? My son explained it all to me patiently–sort of.
“Well, Mom, you gave him a $40 tip. You’ll just have to suck it up.”
So, I have been sucking it up for a few weeks now. I’m getting weary of being among the trendy. The only good thing is that I probably made the guy’s day. I am one of the positive war stories he can brag about over the coming years on the topic of his life as an Uber driver.
Hugs (February 18, 2018)
We all need a hug. It is tactile contact with another human being; a warm, intimate gesture; and comforting. It can be a balm when we are feeling low; an expression of closeness; a display of acceptance, or a greeting like a handshake on steroids. However, we must be careful when, where, and to whom we deliver hugs.
The subject of inappropriate touching has been in the news a lot lately. Many have experienced this during their lifetime, both women and men. It may have been as the hug giver, the hug receiver, or both.
I’ve had such experiences including some incidents years ago at my job which would today be considered sexual harassment. These acts are usually carried out by the perpetrator when no one else is around, so if reported by the victim, it becomes an uncorroborated “he said-she said” scenario.
From my youth until well into my adulthood, I was not a huggy type of person. Although I’m still not exceptionally huggy, as I’ve matured and been subjected to life, I’m more prone to offering a hug to relatives and good friends upon meeting or departing, or to someone who has been especially nice and giving in a situation.
I can think of three things that changed my hugging persuasion:
1. When I had children, they needed hugs, and I found that I loved embracing them. I have some close friends who are
very huggy, and I’ve grown to be comfortable with it.
2. When I became an actress as a senior, I discovered that the acting community as a whole is a pretty huggy/touchy
bunch out of camaraderie.
3, Sometimes my hug has been well received and other times it has seemed to make the recipient uncomfortable. I think
the response comes from how the hugee was raised, where they were raised (different parts of the country or world are
not as huggy as others), his/her culture, etc.
I have had a few strange experiences when I’ve initiated a hug. I made the mistake of hugging a man out of friendship. He then expected us to hug every time we saw each other. He finally made it clear that he wanted our relationship to ramp up to the next level, which was not what I wanted, so I broke off the whole thing. It probably would have remained on the friendship footing I had preferred had I not initiated the initial hug out of good feelings.
Once, I invited a group of friends over for lunch. One I knew well, and the other two, a husband and wife, were his friends whom I had only met a few times. We had a lovely time, and when they were ready to depart, I gave each a hug. The husband and wife both seemed very uncomfortable with the gesture, and I was sorry I had done it.
I remember another uneasy situation. A program director had hired me to give a talk to a large group. Although our interaction prior to the event was purely a business relationship, she had been exceptionally nice and helpful to me. After the talk, we were chatting, and I thanked her. Out of excitement at how well things had gone, I moved forward to hug her whereupon she jerked back with an alarmed look on her face. I immediately backed off, but it felt very awkward.
Hugging or other types of touching can be interpreted incorrectly. If one gets a different idea from your initiation of a hug or other simple touch than you had intended, it is very hard to convey to that person that you were simply expressing your warm feelings in an embracing manner. Conversely, when people make themselves vulnerable by expressing affection for another whether physically or verbally, it is hurtful to them to learn that their overtures are unwanted. You take the chance of alienating that person and the discomfort whenever you encounter them again.
Don’t stop hugging or enjoying hugs. Just learn to be prudent when engaging in them. To get you into a hugging mood, check out the online video, “Free Hugs,” which follows a man as he offers just that, free hugs, to passersby in public. Also, read the moving poem, “The Hug,” by Tess Gallagher.
Free at Last! (February 5, 2018)
An oppressive lifestyle can be imposed from without or within. Sometimes, it is the people we live with or the situation we find ourselves in that causes the oppression. Maybe a spouse or significant other demoralizes us. It could be a parent or a child who is the culprit. We might feel ourselves excessively burdened by our job or daily activities.
Humans are also quite accomplished at weighing themselves down. We might impose impossible-to-meet standards on ourselves or aim for perfection to the point where we always fall short.
If you are living in an ongoing state of oppression no matter how you got there, you must escape for your own well-being. That is easy to say but so hard to do. Our situation, no matter how burdensome, usually provides us with something that we desire or fear we cannot obtain elsewhere. It could be as basic as food and shelter. It might be the siren call of social position that binds us. Perhaps it is the fear of forfeiting something precious such as children, income, or even a pet that keeps us there.
It is scary to disengage from a situation that offers us things we crave or fear losing. Yes, walking away is chancy. "What if's" pop into our mind, usually miring us in the status quo, often for years.
However, if you ever want to break free of those chains that hold you prisoner, you must take a risk. Decide if you want to escape, make your getaway plans, and do it.
Many years ago, I had a friend, Priscilla, who told me that shortly after she married her husband, she realized what a mistake she had made as he proved to be an abusive alcoholic. However, by that time, she was already pregnant and dependent upon him. So, she made her escape plans and spent the next several years carrying them out. Priscilla went to college part-time and got an education so she could find gainful employment. By the time she finally put her plan into effect and left her husband, she had two children. She had also found a good paying job and was able to support herself and her kids.
We’ve all heard about people leaving lucrative employment to start their own business or to take lesser paying work that they find much more fulfilling. I once had an attorney who handled a case for me. Years later, when I needed more legal work, I sought him out only to find that he had given up the practice of law and opened a ski shop. He told me he had never really enjoyed being a lawyer, and that he loved his new venture even though he made far less money.
Don’t just wallow in an oppressive situation. Envision a goal of throwing off that yoke. Make your jailbreak plans and carry them out, even if it takes years.
Why Does He/She Treat Me So Badly? (January 21, 2018)
Have you always been confused as to why your spouse or significant other turns into a snarling dog and treats you with such disdain? Although in this discussion I’ll talk about partner connections, this type of interaction can occur in other close relationships such as with a parent, child, sibling, boss, mentor, etc. I’ll use the generic masculine tone when referring to your partner, but it can equally apply to both sexes.
You do everything you can to get along, have a peaceful relationship, keep him happy. You try to shape yourself to his demands and requirements. It may work for awhile when he’s in a good place psychologically, or externally driven factors such as a job, school, finances, and such are going right for him. However, the fall always comes. Nothing you do satisfies him. You are cast as the bad guy, especially when he needs someone to blame when his life sucks once again.
This scenario may involve your being emotionally abused including being insulted, dismissed, or ostracized. You might be given the silent treatment (for hours or even days), a particularly cunning form of cruelty. Or, you might even be physically abused. It’s like living on a roller coaster. He can be loving and caring or hateful and rejecting, and you never know which version of him is going to show up.
You soon learn to watch for it, always a bit tense even in the best of times. You wait for him to sock-it-to-ya because you know instinctively that it’s coming sooner or later.
This is typical of the “Battered Woman Syndrome (BWS),” so named because of its frequency in incidents of domestic violence. As I said earlier, men can be the victims of it, too.
Examples of BWS fall on a continuum because each situation is different, some more extreme and some less. You may still be a victim even if no physical violence is involved. Emotional battering can be just as painful; it may be so subtle you can't even verbalize it, but you feel bad, strange, off-kilter—something doesn’t sit right. It might be a small remark said in public or private that is demeaning but disguised so that the perpetrator can claim, “What are you talking about; you’re crazy?” if you try to call him on it. Behavior such as this is wily, conniving, deliberate, or passive/aggressive: amiability which conceals antagonism.
You start to feel worthless, baffled why everything you do seems to be wrong. You may doubt your own sanity. It doesn’t dawn on you that your abuser might not be correct in his assessment of the situation. You buy into whatever he sells, never questioning.
So, why does your loved one behave like that? One contributing reason might be poor self-image—not yours, his. If your partner doesn’t think much of himself, then he probably feels that anyone who cares for him, loves him or respects him must not be much either.
How can anyone love me, I’m such a loser. They must be horrible, undesirable, a loser themselves. So, not only am I despicable, but I’m with this loser.
Thoughts such as these on the part of the victimizer are usually subconscious–ingrained from childhood. This scenario is often played out with partner after partner.
Even if you understand why your mate behaves as he does, that doesn’t alter your interaction. He’s honed this personality for decades, and he doesn’t plan on changing. Not only that, but he has no problem with how he is; only you have a problem.
So, what do you do? As I’ve encouraged many times in past blogs, you must survive. Whether his technique is the subtle type or the go-for-the-jugular, take-no-prisoners model, you must negate his power to control you.
When you get the feeling that you’ve been put down by him, trust your gut! Keep in mind that you are not on this earth so he can play out these types of conscious or subconscious feelings. Refuse to accept that role! Don’t engage. Leave the staging area. Pursue activities apart from him. In extreme cases, you may have to extricate yourself from the relationship entirely to get healthy.
Take charge of your life and your happiness. Don’t be willing to put it into the hands of another, even someone as close as a spouse or significant other.
We All Have "Something" (January 7, 2018)
I saw an all gender bathroom sign at an airport terminal recently. I have no idea who was enlightened enough to create a bathroom for everyone no matter their persuasion. However, that person simply posted the sign, and the thousands of humans passing by in that busy location didn’t seem to suffer any harm from it.
All of us have something about ourselves or our lives that is viewed as less than ideal in our current culture, or we have a friend or relative who does. We think that our something merits special consideration, tender handling, understanding, tolerance.
Maybe you or they are handicapped in some fashion. Maybe you or they respond slower than others, are of a particular physical build, intellectual level, sexual orientation, hue on the color spectrum, or whatever which is not so highly prized by our society just now.
So what do we do with you or them? Well, everyone hopes that others will be kind and forgiving of their particular affliction or situation. However, let’s take a good look at ourselves. Are we as kind and forgiving of others’ oddities, needs, or differences as we hope they will be of ours?
Why does a group of boys attack another boy who is homosexual? Why does a person insist his religion is the only way to believe and then kills non-believers to that end? Why does someone with so much money go out of his/her way to disadvantage others merely to make more?
Our country and much of the world is divided by prejudice against race, sex, gender identity, religion, politics, and all manner of things. However, I’m sure you have heard the aphorism: let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Are you so perfect that you can judge others and find them wanting?
Remember to treat everyone with love, care, consideration, and compassion no matter how different they seem to be. We all share humanness; we are far more alike than different. There’s another old saying that has been termed “The Golden Rule”: Do onto others as you would have them do onto you.
Why do so many forget that? It’s often those screaming the loudest to denigrate another who are hiding the most in their own lives.
The Time We Have Left (December 24, 2017)
I was having an email discussion with my friend, a cancer survivor, about an article we both read listing predictions for our future world. One involved longevity.
According to the article, our current average life span increases three months per year. Within the past four years, life expectancy has increased from 79 to 80 years. By 2036, it will increase by over one year per year. Therefore, many more people will live to be over 100.
We had this email back-and-forth:
Her: “I went to see my new primary care dr., a geriatrician, and got quite a shock. I asked her at what age I can stop getting colonoscopies. She said that the average for female death is 84, so there is no point in trying to prevent diseases such as colon cancer that take time to develop, unless I plan to live a lot longer than that. It’s not as though there is any of that that I didn’t already know, but it hit me like a punch in the stomach. I feel the same way I would feel if I were 30 and got the news that I had a life expectancy of 9 years. I now evaluate everything I do to make sure I’m not wasting any time.”
Me: “As for your punch in the stomach, don’t assume that you only have a life expectancy of 9 more years. That email said that longevity is predicted to increase. Therefore, assume you’re going to live to 100, which means you have 25 more years. So, get that colonoscopy and go ahead and waste some time:-)”
Her: “The average for women now is 84, 82 for men. I’m pretty healthy so far as I know, and my parents both lived longer than 84. Still, I am confronting a short life.”
Me: “We are all confronting a short life. Stop focusing on that and focus on enjoying it. Try the AA mantra: one day at a time.”
Her: “…my short life isn’t because of cancer, it’s because of my age. I do focus on enjoying life–I certainly don’t want to piss away whatever time I have left.”
If you are in satisfactory health, I’m not sure which is more destructive to your enjoyment of life, excessive worry that you might get or have a recurrence of a serious disease such as cancer or apprehension over statistics predicting at what age you might die. Dwelling on such considerations spoils embracing the time you do have left.
Among the more inspiring people I have known was Rose Freedman, a classmate in a community Spanish class I attended many years ago. She was the last living survivor of the terrible fire in 1911 at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in New York City where 146 young, immigrant garment workers died. That tragedy led to significant changes in labor laws.
Rose was full of life, dynamic and always well-dressed with her hair nicely coifed. She consistently arrived at class with her homework completed, spending the opening moments before the teacher arrived socializing with everyone. She was also an artist and an avid, Lakers basketball fan.
One day, the teacher announced, “Rosa (we used the Spanish version of our names during class) has invited everyone to go to the bakery down the street after class for cake and coffee to celebrate her 100th birthday.” I was blown away! Given her exuberance and youthfulness, I always thought Rose was in her eighties.
I continued going to that class for many years with Rose until she was hospitalized and died a few months later in 2001 at the age of 107. Yes, good genes and healthy living had a lot to do with Rose’s longevity. However, a positive attitude and a love of life contributed significantly.
Let’s let Rose serve as our role model. It’s our choice how to embrace our final years. If we live our lives in agitated worry about our waning days, can we really enjoy that precious time to its fullest? Yes, we want to be productive–leave a legacy. However, the pressure to do so caused by fear we might die sooner rather than later spoils our journey.
In your final years, be productive for the joy of it, not in a race against some elusive calculation about the amount of time you have left.
Let It Go (December 9, 2017)
We all get upset, pissed off, angry, enraged, and worse at circumstances, the behavior of others, life... Yes, we need to vent; it releases tension. But, be careful who you choose as your ventee. Is he/she the right choice–the one who done ya wrong?
Are you dumping your situation on whomever you stumble upon? Are you taking any and every opportunity to steer the conversation around to your hurt or bad luck? That gets very old very fast, and others don’t want to constantly be at the receiving end of such conduct. After all, they have their own issues for which they’d like to vent, and it’s so easy for your interaction to devolve into a mutual ventfest.
Whatever it is that is bumming you out, there comes a point where you just have to let it go and get on with your life. Easy to say; hard to do, but, what is the alternative?
You can continue to stew for days, weeks, months, even years. While you’re doing so, what else is happening? Have opportunities passed you by because you were too angry and distracted to grab them? Have you missed out on jobs, relationships, etc. because others picked up on your rage and backed off? Who is the loser with your attitude? The way I see it, it’s you!
I’m still carrying around pain as the result of being hurt or let down by others whom I trusted. I’m probably pretty typical of most people. Very few get through this life without those types of experiences. Yes, I’m still a work in progress, but I try. I think about it and work at moving on. Sometimes I do a better job than at other times.
Letting it go doesn’t have to be done all at once. It can be done in stages–baby steps. I have been estranged from a family member for several years. I thought a lot about letting it go, mainly to heal myself. Recently, I sent her a birthday card. It was very difficult to do and took a lot of mental back-and-forth while buying the card, addressing it, putting on the stamp, and releasing it from my fingertips into the mailbox. I lived with that small act for awhile until I was able to digest it. The next step I took was some very light, superficial email correspondence. I’m currently in the process of living with that and trying to digest it. The next step may be a telephone call.
Keep working at letting it go even if you’re not always successful. View yourself as a wounded child, and take care of yourself with tenderness, support, and encouragement as you would any troubled youngster. Help that child heal. Strive to make yourself the winner, not the loser.
Remembering (November 25, 2017)
We all have our memories, and we spend significant amounts of our awake and our asleep time pondering them. One of the most compelling things we remember are the significant people who have impacted our lives.
This month marks the one-year anniversary of the death of one of my dearest friends. She was such a major part of my life for decades, and so many things in my home remind me of her.
There is the fleece shirt I put on each winter morning to break the chill when I get out of bed that Sue bought me for my birthday years ago after seeing me finger it on the store rack while we were shopping.
There are the 1600 threads-per-inch sheets I sleep on nightly which I, along with many of her friends and relatives, ordered through her secret source with the amazing discount.
There are those small decorative, bolster pillows that sit atop the regular pillows on my bed. We each got one that day Sue took me to visit the Wolf Rescue Compound, a two-hour ride from the city where we lived because I’d chosen it as my birthday gift excursion. We had been giving each other events for birthday presents in those final years, a way to spend more meaningful time together as the annual exchange of yet another sweater, scarf, or pair of earrings had become old and tiresome. The compound owner had made the little pillows which she presented to each person who braved the trek to her isolated location and contributed a donation upon entering. Sue gave me hers so I’d have a matching pair for my bed.
There is the…
Last week, I saw Sue’s children for the first time since her death. Her daughter held me and cried giant tears, the sight of me bringing back memories of her mother yet again. I cried my own internal tears, as external ones don’t happen for me. We all have our own way of grieving and responding to pain; mine is the dry, lump-in-your-throat type. Neither are right or wrong; they just are.
When someone has been significant to you, that never ends, it merely changes. Everyone has had a Sue in their life, and they live on in the memories of their friends and family members.
Gender, Sex, and Power (November 12, 2017)
So much has been in the news lately about sexual harassment. That encompasses unwanted sexual attention ranging from remarks, gestures, innuendos, touching, all the way to rape. If you’re a female, most likely you’ve been the recipient of some behavior on this continuum at some time in your life. If you’re a male, you, too, may have experienced it, or you may have someone close to you who has. Today, I have a guest blogger, Janet Maker, who was inspired to write about her own personal experiences with sexual harassment. Here is her post:
Gender, Sex, and Power
by: Janet Maker
Recently I got a hug from my male yoga teacher and I felt myself stiffen, even though I knew that the hug was affectionate and not the first move in the direction of sex. I was sure of this for many reasons, not least of which was the fact that I am 75 years old. Nevertheless, I still had the hypervigilant reaction that had been ingrained in me over most of my life. I was never raped or beaten. I never even had my career threatened by men. I just had the usual stuff: Between the ages of about 12 and 50 I would regularly be on the receiving end of unwelcome overtures, fortunately not from employers, but from pretty much everyone else– from doctors to auto mechanics to the husbands of my friends. I’m sure I was not exceptional—I was attractive but not a great beauty, and I know I was not giving mixed signals.
Here’s the thing that was so crazy-making: Except for the husbands of friends, who were easy to deal with, I could never tell them the truth. The truth was that in most cases I was not physically attracted to them; I did not feel any “chemistry;” or as the Brits say, I did not “fancy” them. I was always afraid that if I told the truth their minds would snap and they would become violent. So I made up excuses. When I was very young I tried telling them that I was frigid or a lesbian, but I soon found out that those excuses did not deter them. The only thing that would usually work was to tell them that I belonged to another man. There were times I couldn’t do that—for example, I would sometimes accept a date from someone who looked interesting but for whom an attraction did not develop. So I had to figure out strategies to parry any overtures until I got safely home. I don’t mean that all men were wolves, but I felt I always had to be on guard.
Once in a while I received overtures from women, but that was not the same kind of problem at all. I could simply tell them that I was not attracted to women, and that would generally be accepted with no hard feelings.
I wondered if this issue was a generational thing, so I asked my 30 year old daughter if she and her friends felt they could safely tell men that they were not attracted to them. She said no.
The question made her recall her first experience with sexual harassment. She was eleven, and we were Christmas shopping in our local mall. She wanted to buy a gift for me, so she asked if she could go off alone. I agreed, and I showed her where I would wait for her. After a while a woman showed up with my sobbing daughter in tow. My daughter told me she was going up the escalator when a man grabbed her bottom. She was terrified; she found a woman and asked for help. We made a police report. Of course I knew that the police wouldn’t do anything, but I wanted my daughter to feel that she had been taken seriously.
I had a friend once who had a gay male couple living in the apartment upstairs. Sometimes when they would argue they would end up in a fistfight, and I felt almost jealous. I did not want to fight, but I did want the satisfaction of knowing that I would have an equal chance of winning.
Silence and Stillness (October 28, 2017)
A friend recently mentioned that she had attended a retreat on the topic of silence and stillness. What a concept!
All my life I have had trouble with being silent and being still. My interpretation of silence on the part of others in my presence meant that they were unhappy or bored with me. So, to ease my discomfort, I would fill the silence with chatter. Of course, that meant animation--the opposite of stillness--even if just body language. It was an exhausting enterprise, but I had no control over it; I did it without thinking--a compulsion.
I remember the turning point. I was driving with my then boyfriend when I noticed that he had become very quiet. I thought he was angry at me because that's how my ex-husband used to behave--the silent treatment, a cruel form of punishment. I went through a mental back-and-forth with myself, vowing not to be the first to speak.
Who does he think he is? He's not going to get away with pulling that crap on me. I'm not going to have that in my life again. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
I was nervous, anxious, and worked myself into a defensive state. After a little while, my boyfriend made some inane remark such as, "look at that tree over there." I was amazed. What I thought was going to grow into a big argument was just him being quiet. I had never realized that anyone could be quiet deliberately with no other motive.
It is very difficult to change a behavior pattern that took years to perfect. Although I'm still struggling with it, I've slowly gotten better with being quiet. My inclination is still to jump into those silent spaces, but now I can stop myself. Sometimes, it requires a mental dialogue (I do a lot of those) that my role doesn't have to be the entertainment committee--that it's okay for me to just stay muted.
These days, I seem to crave quiet and calm more and more. I cherish my down days where I can pad around my house alone with no appointments, deadlines, or obligations. The space to spend my time reading, writing, thinking, and whatever else strikes me has become precious. I surprise myself with this new outlook; it's so different from my former self. There is a peacefulness I didn't have when I was younger.
Try adding periods of silence and stillness to your life. Schedule time for it if it doesn't come naturally. Embrace it instead of fighting it. It is cleansing, calming, and healing.
Taking Care of the Caretaker (October 12, 2017)
Some of us go willingly into the role of caretaker, and some of us are thrust into it without being consulted. Examples of voluntary caretaker roles are: parent, teacher, nurse, and even pet owner. (Yes, owners of sick pets have been found to have more than normal stress, anxiety, and depression.)
Some people deliberately choose caretaking involvements and thrive on them. But, what about when the role of consuming, full-time or almost full-time caretaker ensnares us when we hadn’t planned on it, hadn’t desired it, and it does not fit our personality type?
A typical scenario might be when an ailing spouse requires ongoing, long-term care. There may be no one else available to step into the caretaker role other than the remaining, healthy spouse. Other examples might be when children have to care for an aging parent or when parents have to care for a child who has become permanently disabled. We’re not talking here about just bringing them lunch in bed. We’re talking about hands-on care of their bodily needs and functions, entertaining them, transporting them, and maybe even supporting them financially.
You might be a caretaker from afar. Maybe you are responsible for someone in a placement of some sort or who resides a long distance from you. Perhaps you’re the go-to-person for any problems, crises, concerns, questions, or decisions. Although your life is not necessarily hampered on a continual basis, that responsibility is always capable of demanding instant attention or superseding anything else you had planned. You live with an underlying tension, never knowing when your remote caretaker duties will kick in.
You may feel overwhelmed and no longer able to cope with that role no matter how much you are concerned about your charge? You might find yourself becoming resentful, angry, bitter, impatient, irritable, and stressed out. This can lead to negative behaviors toward your dependent such as yelling, ignoring, pushing, or worse. After that, you may feel guilty as he/she did not choose to require caretaking and is helpless to help you. Cyclical emotions such as these can spiral you into depression which renders you less capable of being an effective caretaker.
To the outside world, sympathy and attention usually go to the sickly or helpless one. People rarely have much left for the caretakers or even think of them as needing any. Yet caretakers burn out. Caretakers may become sick themselves simply from the job of caretaking.
So what can you do to break this cycle and stay relevant and capable in your role as a caretaker? How can you take care of yourself, not only for you but for your charge? Both you and they need you to remain strong emotionally and physically.
You can seek respite from time to time. Find outside activities that bring you pleasure and enjoyment. Take breaks from the caretaking business just as anyone with a job has weekends or other days off as well as periodic, longer vacations. In short, refresh yourself on a regular basis.
To do this, you need someone or several someones to step in as a substitute caretaker while you’re gone. Start seeking suitable candidates. These might be your children; other family members; friends; neighbors; members of your church, temple, or mosque; hired help; volunteers from an organization; home-health aides referred by an insurance plan or a governmental agency, etc. You must do this for yourself, even if you feel that no one else can take care of your ward as well as you can.
By taking better care of yourself, you are indirectly taking better care of the one who is dependent on you. You return to duty refreshed, in a better mental state, and with a better outlook knowing that your next break will come soon.
Boredom (September 27, 2017)
We come into this world yawning with boredom and go downhill from there. Recently, in my philosophy class, we were discussing whether we would want to live an extra hundred years. One class member commented that he would not want to do so because by that time, he probably would have done or learned everything interesting, and life would be just too boring.
We all laughed while nodding in agreement. Yes, we scurry from boredom the moment we encounter it. Humans seem to need constant engagement, constant entertainment, constant stimulation.
We don’t just sit around and do nothing. When we are not actively involved in a goal-oriented pursuit, we will grab a book or magazine, turn on the television, check our email, surf the web, go shopping, and on and on. We flee boredom like it’s a disease. The idea of nothing new to learn, nothing new to experience, only eternal boredom is horrifying.
I am always weighing the amount of stress I put myself under against the boredom that I can’t tolerate. I’m trying hard not to cram too much into my life, but it's an ongoing challenge. Every time I hear about something that sounds exciting, I want to get involved. Like usual, I’m involved in too much stuff. It’s so difficult to pick and choose because it’s all interesting. Everyone lives with the dichotomy of that struggle between boredom and stress.
A few years ago, a friend visited me with her daughter and two young grandchildren. We chatted for a short time whereupon the oldest child announced, “I’m bored.” My friend’s daughter quickly wrapped up our conversation, telling the child, “Okay, okay, we’re going.” I’m not passing judgment one way or another on her parenting skills. However, the child could have been encouraged to walk around my house observing all the interesting things I have displayed on shelves and walls.
So, how do we grownups combat boredom? We can whine to anyone who will listen, pandering to be entertained. Or, we can adopt the maxim about using stones in our path to build a house. Yes, we can walk around wherever we happen to be, observing all the interesting things there. We might actually learn a thing or two or ten or at least have a pleasant experience. We can also accept the stress and learn to flourish under it, remembering that we can back away whenever we desire.
Man in a Bucket (September 12, 2017)
Each of us lives in a bucket–many buckets to be exact: our homes, our schools, our jobs, our extended hood, etc. Buckets are the catchment areas in which we roam, but they are for the most part relatively circumscribed. Some buckets are very small like that of a tree trimmer high up in an extended mechanical arm, and some cover miles. Our various buckets bump up against each other, and we move from one to the next.
It is our responsibility to participate in keeping our buckets pleasant, tidy, positive, and all other adjectives we can think of to describe a comfortable life. We do so not only for ourselves but for others who might share them with us.
I remember standing at a bus stop once with a man who was also awaiting the bus. He was eating some sort of fast food and dropped the wrappers as he finished each item. I watched him as he opened his fist and, with as little effort as possible, let the napkin, paper cup, or container float to the ground. In a short time, there was a small circle of trash surrounding him, but he was oblivious to it.
What if we all did that rather than throwing our discards into the nearest trash can? We would soon be maneuvering our way through our bucket by scaling a garbage heap. It is an unpleasant and unnecessary way to live.
How about the emotional trash we discard in our buckets? Are we going to spend all of our time posturing and fighting with everyone else? What if we all did that? Our buckets would soon be filled with anxiety, nervousness, upset, and negative feelings, also an unpleasant and unnecessary way to live.
Remember to do your part to care for your particular buckets, and encourage those close to you to do the same. Buckets can be a comfortable, joyful cocoon, or they can be a stressful, distressing jail.
Rest and Regenerate (August 29, 2017)
Rest is mandatory for all animals to renew their energy and vitality including those living helicopters: hummingbirds. I spotted this little guy hovering near a bush outside my window. Then, much to my surprise, he landed on a branch. I had never seen a hummingbird before that wasn’t humming. I stopped what I was doing and just hung out with him. Mr. H. stayed there for about ten minutes, resting, regenerating, and allowing his heart rate to slow down before continuing his frenetic activities. Such a smart bird.
Hummingbirds’ wings flutter 80 times per second and their hearts can beat as much as 1,263 times per minute or as little as 50 times per minute when conserving energy. Compare that to the human heart which beats as low as 60 and as high as 200 times per minute depending on age and activity level.
Do you remember to rest and regenerate? We must learn to pace ourselves—land on a branch—and allow plenty of downtime in order to be able to function well when we are active. Rest and especially sleep have an unexplained yet proven impact on our health and productivity. A very rare hereditary disease called fatal familial insomnia manifests itself in midlife to its victims and eventually renders them unable to sleep. At that stage, death comes within months. We cannot live without sleep.
Have you noticed that when you are not rested, your responses become dull and sloppy? We make many more errors and bad decisions when not rested. It’s tempting to overdo. There are so many interesting and compelling projects and activities. Sometimes, it seems there is never enough time to do everything we want to do. However, over-scheduling and cramming in too much becomes counterproductive.
Remember to do your resting in a location conducive to that end. Choosing a roomful of people, noise, and stimulation does not yield good quality relaxation to most. If out and about, try to find a quiet, isolated place. If one is not available, you might decamp to your car. No car? Try a stall in the bathroom. It’s a one-holer, people are banging on the door, and you’ve run out of options? Then find any seat and use the earplugs and eye mask you always carry with you in your purse, pocket, backpack, wherever. (You do carry them, right, along with a granola bar for quick energy when needed?) If all else fails, take a tip from this gal catching some z’s on a commuter train instead of grabbing her cell phone to read her emails, navigate the Net, or play mindless computer games. Make it work for you!
Remember to schedule plenty of rest time into your life. It takes discipline but is an art that you must master. Then, the things that you do participate in will be so much more fruitful and rewarding.
Playing Well with Others (August 17, 2017)
Are you a person who has trouble playing well with others? Or, perhaps you know someone like that. Getting along with other humans is a talent gained from part nature and part nurture.
It almost doesn’t matter what you say or convey to others. If done in the right way, just about anything is acceptable. For example, if someone is wearing clothing that you think looks terrible, you can say, “You look awful in that dress,” or you can say, “I think red looks so much better on you than blue.” If someone is doing something you don’t think is correct, you can say, “Don’t do that!” or you can say, “I don’t think they want us doing that.”
If you’re not a natural at warm/cozy techniques of communication and are tired of people drawing away from you or completely ostracizing you, consider practicing some basic requirements. Here’s a list of “musts” that I came up with. Perhaps you can add a few of your own.
1. It’s not all about you. Don’t spend the interaction talking only about your stuff or sucking the focus onto yourself whenever possible.
2. Show interest in the others present. Everyone wants a chance to be the center of attention for a while. Aid in that goal by asking questions of them, and really listen to their answers. You show that you’re listening by maintaining consistent eye contact and asking meaningful, follow-up questions.
3. Check your attitude. Don’t come across as irritated, impatient, hostile, and pissy. People don’t like that and will begin to avoid you.
4. Don’t be the resident expert-in-everything even if you are. It gets old very fast. As my father used to say, “Nobody likes a smart ass.”
5. Be gracious. Say things like “thank you” or “that was really interesting” or “nice to see you again.” People love compliments and acknowledgement.
6. Be aware of the tone and volume of your voice. Dial both down a notch or ten. Practice exchanging verbal coldness for warmth. Record yourself and listen to how you come across when you talk.
7. Body language speaks volumes. Chill out and relax.
8. Facial expressions are huge. Everyone is always reading people by the look on their face. Does yours come across as: sourpuss, angry, negative, critical, bored, or disinterested? If so, practice in front of a mirror making facial expressions which are positive, accepting, warm, upbeat, supportive, and interested. Experience how your face muscles feel with those positive contours, and repeat them in public.
If you can’t figure out how to put into practice some of the aforementioned suggestions, study others who seem to do so effortlessly. Then, wiggle into your actor robes and perform, using them as role models. It may seem strange at first, but you’ll get used to it. Remember, the content is far less important than the delivery.
Lighten Your Load (July 31, 2017)
We all carry heavy, emotional loads around with us. Some call it "baggage." Whatever you call it, it exhausts you and depletes your energy. This angst you create for yourself is manifested in worrying, ruminating, stressing, fixating, or obsessing over what has happened or what might happen.
The current, trendy advice is: live in the now. It sounds wonderful, but it's so hard to do. We all suffer from mind drift. So, how do you turn off your thoughts from remembering your upsetting, negative experiences? How do you control your reflections from worrying about life's possible, future land mines?
Like acquiring any new skill, it takes practice—constant practice. It also takes awareness of when your mind is drifting to those types of deliberations. So, it's up to you to work at lightening your own load. And, it will only be successful if you want it badly enough. Here's an idea to get you started:
Develop the habit of checking in with your mind on a regular basis to see if and where it has drifted. When that drift is to a negative place, stay vigilant and replace those thoughts with something positive or at least neutral. Use your environment as an aid.
In my new home, I have a variety of animal life that passes by. I've made it a point of stopping whatever I'm doing when I hear or spot a candidate from my window. I watch the free performance nature provides which puts my mind in a positive place.
That exercise can be done with all types of external stimuli found everywhere. For example, have you ever really looked at a flower growing outside? Don't just glance at it; approach it and stare deeply at its structure. Notice each petal; notice the stamen and pistil in the center. Assess the color as it varies in shade from one part of the flower to another. Smell it. Does it have a strong scent, a mild scent, no scent? While you are doing this, your mind is focused totally on the flower.
It seems like a constant struggle to take control of our thought patterns. However, like learning any new skill, it becomes a bit easier each time you are successful. The aggregate of many successful experiences makes you more proficient at the task. Keep at it, and see if the outcome leads to more contentment in your life. If not, you can always go back to wallowing in the turmoil your mind creates.
Help: a Noun and Verb (July 16, 2017)
I had just exited the airport after flying in from out of town and was waiting for the metro to take me home. When it arrived and the doors opened, I realized I had hit it at rush hour. The car was crammed with humanity—standing room only. That was fine with me; I liked the idea of remaining upright as I had been sitting on an airplane for two hours. I positioned myself between a post and the back of a seat, holding on to the former. At the next stop, a boy of about nine years of age walked toward me gesturing to a seat. A woman, obviously his mother, was standing nearby and nodding at me. They had been occupying a place designated for the handicapped, pregnant women, and the elderly. To my consternation, I fell into the last category. Even so, I am in good physical condition and was quite capable of standing. However, the young boy looked so eager charged with his important mission that I simply couldn't tell him I had no need of the proffered prime location. So I thanked him very much, walked over, and took my seat for the elderly. The boy was beaming and looked at his mother who gave the requisite approval.
Sometimes, even if we don’t need assistance, it is a kind gesture toward the giver to accept an offer of help. People feel good when they assist others, and we can get some good feelings for ourselves by being gracious toward their sacrifice in our behalf—a definite win-win situation.
I think the same applies if we really do need help. What’s the matter with that? Some find it so difficult to request and/or accept assistance. They feel it demeans them or indicates they are lacking in some way. They might feel a burden that they must reciprocate. No, you don’t need to give like-for-like. Sometimes, there is no way to repay a good deed done for you. The only payback is to perform a kindness for another.
Offer help generously, and don’t be ashamed to accept it either. We all need help from time to time no matter our age or physical condition. Participate willingly on either side of this caring, human interaction and reap the emotional rewards that it bestows.
Feeling Invisible (July 2, 2017)
Have you ever been in a situation where you’re surrounded by people much younger than yourself? Have you ever felt invisible as they talk past you? A similar experience might occur even when the others are closer to your age, but they all know each other or attend the same class/club/church/temple/mosque/whatever, and you’re the odd man out. This might happen when you’re seated at a table while attending an event, marking time in a waiting room, or at any other venue where you find yourself surrounded by strangers who are with others in a common grouping.
In situations like that, it’s often hard to strike up a conversation. People near you seem only interested in talking to those of the same age, pursuit, social history... You might try to steer the conversation around to something universal such as the current political situation, a recent news item, whatever. However, the conversation segues back to their niche interests.
The others might be polite to you if you do manage to interject something, but they quickly turn back to their peers. In the case of those much younger, you notice the chatter centers around subjects that don’t interest you: a certain type of music, jobs, children’s play dates, someone you don’t know, or things that you’ve outgrown.
You want to shout out your credentials: I’m bright; I’m educated; I’m well-traveled; I’m interesting. But, of course, you don’t; that’s socially unacceptable. So, you sit there in silence feeling awkward and rejected.
I’ve heard some seniors say that they don’t like being around large groups their own age. They prefer to be with younger people as it makes them feel young. I’ve never understood that. I can’t imagine what they even talk about.
Yes, there are some situations where the meeting centers around a specific topic common to all present, and age differences don’t matter. There also might be specific individuals who easily bridge the age gap. But, those are the exception, not the norm. I find it much more comfortable to be with others in my same age group. We have a commonality of experiences and are no longer focused on the things done by age specific younger generations such as child rearing and careers.
When you find yourself in situations like these, it’s time to look around the room for the senior folks. If you can’t find any or are stuck at a table with those half your age, you might whip out that book you always carry with you. You forgot to take the book? Your cell phone can entertain you for a while. Or, you might simply relax and enjoy people watching. That’s always a fun sport. And, when you hear such talk as diaper rash, pediatricians, and the like, you can rejoice that you’re in the “been there, done that” age group.
Mackinac (June 18, 2017)
Clop, clop, clop—the sound of the horses’ hooves as they pulled the wagon taxi carrying me around Mackinac Island, Michigan last week. It was the time of the Lilac Festival during which all of the lilac bushes covering the island in their various colors and hues perform for the tourists. It seemed that every hotel, restaurant, park, private home and anywhere else something could be planted had its own lilac bushes for passersby to admire, sniff, and use as a backdrop to pose for photos.
The island is supported by tourism. However, despite the thousands who descend each year, it has been kept pristine and is a little step back in history. No cars are allowed. All transportation is accomplished by horse drawn carriages and drays, bicycles, and good old-fashioned walking. Humans with pooper scoopers as well as machines pulled by draft horses, Belgians and Percherons mostly, ply the roads gathering the equine droppings. They are then composted and spread throughout the island to assist in the growth of those magnificent lilacs as well as other flora.
Here’s another fact that grabbed my interest. The three-mile-long body of water to the closest mainland freezes shortly after Christmas forming what the locals call the “ice bridge.” The full-time residents have created a folk remedy of sorts to delineate the path as they traverse it atop their snowmobiles. People simply save their Christmas trees which are then set up on the ice to mark the route.
Yes, the five-hundred full-time islanders certainly do enjoy modern lifestyles that technology has brought to all of us. However, they seem to have found some simple solutions to their unique challenges. My little peek through their keyhole tells me that they have a less stressful, less emotionally demanding cadence to their lives than we in the big cities experience.
My auditory sense relaxed in the replacement of engine noise with the resonance of the horses’ steps as they went about their duties. I like that their emissions help the life cycle unlike that of automobiles that only contribute their noxious gases to the destruction of our planet. Is progress really all it’s touted to be? Can we learn from Mackinac Island residents? Might a return to simpler times and simpler ways be the answer to our angst?
Generational Differences (June 5, 2017)
It is often so hard for distant generations to understand and accept each other and to even communicate. Differences are greater as the years between generations increase. Behavioral and linguistic disparities between parents and children are hard enough, but it becomes more extreme between age spans separating grandparents and grandchildren or great grandchildren. This, of course, can be extrapolated to anyone, not just family members. However, if we are going to live together and benefit from each other, we must adapt and cope, as hard and confusing as it may be.
A few weeks ago, I had a young workman approximately age twenty fixing some damage to my wall. He arrived with tools in his hands which were attached to fully tattooed arms. This contrasted sharply with my tattooless ones. In his earlobes were hole stretch earrings (also called gauges as Google informed me) which expanded those lobe holes to about a three quarter inch diameter. My own lobe holes are pinhead width, my norm for voluntary body mutilations.
Click on this link for a how-to primer on ear lobe stretching for those so inclined: http://www.wikihow.com/Stretch-an-Ear-Lobe-Piercing As you will learn, it’s not an easy thing to become a practitioner. If you are still determined to stretch your lobes, check out Amazon.com's offers of do-it-yourself ear stretching kits.
Despite our stylistic differences, the young workman was a sweetheart. He set to his task with diligence. About an hour later, YW appeared at my office door and announced that he was finished.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he said. “I had a brain fart and cut the wood too short, so I had to do it again.”
“What?”
“I had a brain fart and cut the wood too short. The reason I didn’t finish earlier is because I had to do it over.”
Yes, I had heard him correctly. A brain fart.
I swallowed and just responded, “Oh.”
He had used that compound noun twice in his explanation with no sign of jest, sarcasm, or a goal to shock. It was simply part of his natural speech, and he never even thought that it might be offensive to someone else.
I was not exactly offended—more surprised and amazed. In my lifetime, I’ve experienced confusion, distraction, misunderstanding, mistakes, but never a brain fart. Or, maybe I have but just didn’t know it. “A word is a word is a word,” as I’ve heard it said.
We should be grateful if the younger generation beings in our lives are loving, giving, goal oriented, and possess other traits we value. Mild rebellions such as tattoos, shaved heads, trendy words and phrases, bodily piercings of various types, or rainbow colored hair are tolerable and non-destructive—so much better than drug experimentation, criminal acts and the like which some use to rebel. So, get in sync with the young people in your life; go ahead and stretch your earlobes.
Don't Be a Crappee (May 21, 2017)
While on a trip to Scotland last month, I was taking a tour of Edinburgh, the capital. As the guide was waxing on about all the attractions, I noticed an interesting duo: a statue of Dr. David Livingstone, the nineteenth century Scottish medical missionary and African explorer of “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” fame, topped by an uninvited seagull. The statue graces a park in the center of the city. The foul fowl had assumed the role of crappor with poor Livingstone as the crappee. I wonder how the renowned doctor would have felt about that scenario if he were still alive.
How can we avoid being the crappee? I’ve written about this subject in previous blog posts, but it bears revisiting as it’s so important to our emotional well-being. The answer is: it’s not always easy with the various roles we play in our lives. We may be a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling, an employee, a student, etc, or a combination of these at the same time. Many of our roles are hierarchal in nature, and it’s particularly hard to avoid being dumped on by someone who has power or authority over you. So, what can you do?
There are several tactics you can employ when another is castigating you. You can choose to verbally stand up for yourself and suffer the possible consequences. Be aware that they can be serious such as being fired from a job; losing a spouse or significant other; becoming estranged from a parent or child; or being expelled from a school, club, or organization. You must decide if such a potential outcome is worth it.
You can mentally turn off your receptors, choosing not to receive what the crappor is sending. To avoid extreme results, tune out but behave as though you are attendant. It’s a hard art to master but with some practice, you can become adept.
You might try deflection. Interject something into the diatribe to turn your adversary’s attention in another direction. Example: “Oh, (insert crappor’s name), I heard that the (insert something significant to crappor) just got (insert negative outcome).” That should send him/her in another direction mentally or physically, long enough for you to regroup and escape, at least for the moment.
You can physically remove yourself from the field of battle. Create an emergency that requires you to exit immediately. It can be something like a just-remembered appointment, a bathroom call, a pot on the stove ready to boil over, whatever. You might even think of some excuses in advance to use when the situation requires it.
Don’t be a statue with bird droppings dripping down your face. Plan and execute tactical moves to protect yourself from the onslaught of others.
The Perils of Communication (May 8, 2017)
Being an effective communicator requires talent. Engaging others with our message and receiving theirs is fraught with danger: misunderstandings, mixed signals, confusion, and all sorts of other roadblocks from differences in age, sex, culture, language, education, and racial/ethnic group. However, communicate we must if we’re going to interact with other humans and depend on each other to get along. So, how do we do it effectively?
That is a massive task but with practice, we can all master it. First, let's discuss what communication is. For our purposes, it will be defined as a human exchange of information using agreed upon actions, language, or symbols.
Communication methods utilize our five major senses. They can be written or pictorial; verbal using words and other sounds; or behavioral such as body language, facial expressions, or a handshake. Babies make their needs known by communicating with cries, grunts, and smiles. We become more sophisticated in our communication methods as we age.
There are many subtleties to communication. It can be controlling, manipulative, friendly, warm, cold, straight forward, duplicitous, honest, conniving, and on and on. Different styles and personalities dictate the tone of the communication. Remember, communication is not all about you. It is not just a one-sided “sending” of information significant to the sender. It also involves “receiving” of information significant to the other person in the interaction. Finally, a switching of roles occurs with the original sender becoming the receiver and the original receiver becoming the sender. This rapid-fire reversal takes place continuously throughout the exchange.
Not only must the parties involved be able to switch from send mode to receive mode quickly, they must also be able to interpret meaning. We practice this as children and hopefully perfect it by adulthood. However, not everyone masters the lessons so well. If you fall into that category, watch how effective communicators do it and try out their techniques. They may feel strange at first, but it will get easier with repetition.
Effective communication requires an awareness of goals--what the parties want from the interchange. Do you strive to win favor; do you want an extension of good will; do you simply want to experience the good feelings you get from talking to a friend? Be careful that your approach matches what you hope to gain. If not, then you are wasting your time and effort.
An acquaintance and I recently discussed how valuable laughter is in communication. Including humor and creating an opportunity for laughter usually yields much more than aggression does. There’s an old proverb to the point: “You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
When attempting to communicate, lighten up and make the exchange pleasant and even fun, no matter the subject matter. It can be done and is often significantly more effective. Just give it a try.
Wrangling Seniors (April 19, 2017)
A dear friend and her husband from out of state visited me last weekend. I have known them for over forty-five years and hadn't seen them for quite awhile. We were young and healthy when we met, and we have aged together over the decades.
They are older than I am and have become quite frail. Still, they managed to board a plane with the help of airport wheelchair attendants and arrive at my place by taxi with the aid of the driver. A good tip helped, I guess.
I opened my door to two seniors, both upright with the assistance of their respective walkers. Although a senior myself, I am in good physical condition, and I was pained by their deterioration since I had last seen them. Nevertheless, I was excited by their visit and anxious to show them around my new ‘hood.
It quickly became evident that for each excursion, I would be the pack animal, collapsing and loading two walkers into my car trunk and unloading them upon arrival at our destination not to mention securing seat belts and the like. Ditto on the return ride. All progress was excruciatingly slow. All plans had to be made with time buffers to allow for the lengthy preparation both before and after the event.
I also fell into the role of fetch person as their ability to stand up and make their way to get the sugar, a Kleenex, a shawl for warmth, or just about anything was so much more quickly accomplished by swift me. It reminded me of what my son and daughter-in-law go through with their young children (my adorable grandchildren): strollers, snacks, bathroom breaks, and all events planned around rest time.
At the end of each day, I was exhausted, impatient, and irritable. It’s tiring being a wrangler whether your charges are horses or seniors. I tried hard to keep in perspective what I was getting out of the experience. It was such a gift that my dear friends who had been there to nurture and care for me through the years had made the extreme effort to visit me. It was a privilege to help them experience a trip away from their now confined quarters in an assisted living home. It was a way to pay them back for the love they had always shown me.
Modify your viewpoint toward the elders in your life. Yes, they have become childlike in their needs and even in their behavior. Have patience; be loving, kind, and giving. Don’t forget what they did for you in earlier years which probably caused them to become exhausted, impatient, and irritable.
Nature's Floor Show (April 4, 2017)
I was doing my morning back exercises when I glanced through my window and spied this guy hanging out on a nearby tree branch. What could be more inspiring? I am regaled lately with a variety of birds hovering, preaching, pecking, warbling, chirping, soaring, and all of the other things birds do. I have never been a "birder," but I am rejoicing in their exaltation. They tell me that spring is here, and that I too can exalt in it.
Do you look out the window of your house, car, office, or any other structure in which you find yourself with glass interruptions in its solidity? I don’t mean a glance while you’re doing much more important business. I mean really look!
There’s so much to see. From my window, I enjoyed a glorious flowering tree. Yes, the plants, bushes and trees dress up in springtime for our pleasure. Nature offers us a free floor show. Don't forget to attend.
We all have interesting things to observe around us wherever we live. Here are some we might spy looking out of windows: hills or mountains, children playing, passersby strolling, dogs running, cars of all shapes and colors, and so much more.
Let the visual panoply engulf you. Feel yourself drawn into the details of a leaf, a bird searching the grass for food, a ball bouncing away from its thrower. These sights and sounds are cleansing. Be mindful; notice as you are being swept into the experience; allow it to overtake you. Don’t worry, you can always go back to that important business you left, refreshed and invigorated. And, this psychic infusion doesn't require dipping into your wallet.
Secrets (March 19, 2017)
Keeping secrets is something we all do for various reasons. It usually starts with fretting about negative blowback we might experience if others knew the truth. This can be worry about being judged and found wanting, fear of being pitied, concern about reprisals, and on and on. The reality is that whatever our oh-so-important secret, others usually spend only moments on our situation and then revert back to focusing on their own lives.
There’s a saying: “A secret is something you tell one person at a time.” Most of us have a need to unburden by sharing our secret with someone whom we think we can trust with it. Although we swear our trusted agents to secrecy, we ruminate that they might deliberately or by accident tell another. Sometimes, we instruct our agent not to share our secret only with select persons.
That puts an additional burden on our designee not only to live his/her own life with all its attendant stresses and yes, even secrets, but to remember not to share our secret and with whom not to share it. That’s called “dumping,” people.
It’s not easy being the dumpee. The one placed in that role now has a new stressor: keeping your secret. It’s hard enough keeping their own, but now they have the worry of yours they might accidentally spill, potentially incurring your wrath and/or damaging the relationship. Sometimes, the dumpee may deliberately spill your secret for their own gain—remember Linda Tripp? Google her if you don’t.
Secrets range from tiny ones to great big ones. The degree of weight of the secret is usually decided by the owner. However, it’s often not given the same level of importance by those learning it.
The keeping and managing of secrets is a wearisome process. We must remember who we told and didn’t tell, why it was so important to keep the secret, what to do if others learn about it, and what we must do if we want to divulge it to the world and finally get on with our lives.
Will we ever reach the time where the matter kept secret loses it power over us? How about now? In my memoir, I shared my secret of feeling self-conscious and inadequate in my younger years and of having crippling stage-fright for so much of my life. When I had the nerve to tell the world, those bonds lost their power over me. Revealing our secrets can be so liberating.
Strutting Your Stuff (March 6, 2017)
My visitor knew how to strut his stuff. A wild tom turkey appeared on my patio a few days ago, staying about fifteen minutes as he fluffed out his feathers, fanned his tail, and walked from one end to the other and back again, periodically stopping to turn around slowly so he could be seen from all sides by potential, admiring onlookers. I grabbed my camera to memorialize his display. How could any female resist him? I know I couldn't.
Another euphemism for strutting your stuff is "tooting your own horn." Some humans are good at it like Tom. Successful practitioners know how to display their talents and attributes. Others are too shy or embarrassed while wishing they could and envying those able to do so with such seeming ease. Some withdraw from even considering such behavior, finding it too prideful and self-indulgent. However, let's consider if occasional strutting or tooting can aid in our fulfillment.
We all need attention; we all want to attract others. That is neither positive nor negative; it is simply a human trait. With over seven billion of us on this earth and counting, the competition is fierce. So, how do we get some of that elusive, oh-so-valuable acclaim? We must do something to make others notice us in some way.
Yes, many overdo it--again like Tom. It gets old when someone seems to be constantly bragging or promoting him/herself. Not everyone has mastered the art of subtlety or sophistication in seeking attention. We really don't need to puff up our bearing and prance around in the best finery we can afford, folks. But, we can do other things to bring accolades and favor to ourselves. We can aim to excel in areas where we seem to have talent. Even introverted people can find quieter, less conspicuous ways to shine.
Think of something you can do well. Seek out opportunities to display or utilize that ability where others will notice. Allow yourself to experience the rewards of a compliment, praise, or kudos.
Attention from others is nourishing. Remember to be generous and not hog it all if you're the aggressive type. If you're the timid type, remember that you deserve attention, too. And, let's remember to practice tolerance toward those who seem so needy of attention. We are all on that scale somewhere.
Kick Up Your Heels (February 20, 2017)
We’ve all heard the expression, “kick up your heels.” What exactly does it mean? A Google search yielded these explanations: doing things that you enjoy or having a good time by discarding your inhibitions.
I visited a stable not long ago and hung out with some of the horses. One was led into the ring and immediately hunkered down, rolled over, and kicked up his heels for the sheer joy of it, all the while wiggling around and changing himself from white to tan to the consternation of his groomers of which I was to be one. We would have to spend extra time at our upcoming task to transform him back to the white of his birth. No matter, we human onlookers became childlike along with our stallion, basking in his exuberance.
When was the last time you kicked up your heels? It doesn’t have to be done by rolling around in the dirt with your legs in the air. It might be singing loudly with the radio as you drive to work, enthusiastic dancing, laughing uncontrollably with friends, swinging on a swing in a playground, or any of scores of activities done without inhibitions.
Too many of us are constrained by social niceties, conventions, or other governors on our behavior. I’ve seen people deliberately stifle laughs or even walk out of the room to avoid looking foolish by kicking up their heels. Members of some cultures cover their mouths with their hands to avoid emitting too much laughter.
Young children kick up their heels naturally until they become old enough to learn that it’s unacceptable, not polite, not ladylike, and all the rest. Why does society teach them that? Why does the collective body insist on sublimating the good feelings that can come from kicking up one’s heels and redirect us to socially acceptable venues to do so such as sports stadiums where kicking up one’s heels is only to be done in a group setting by screaming at the athletic teams, sometimes while wearing ridiculous garb and/or face paint?
Give yourself permission to kick up your heels on a regular basis wherever you are. Experience the heeling that comes from it.
Your Remains (February 4, 2017)
It's a morbid and depressing subject, but somebody’s got to tackle it. What’s going to happen to your body after you’re done with it? The majority of people or their family members spend a lot of money on fancy caskets, cemetery plots, and funeral services to bury the deceased in the ground. If you've served your country in the military, your coffin may come draped with an American flag, and you can even arrange to have an honor guard at your funeral.
You can have a closed casket service, or people can view you lying in your expensive box, made up to look better than you ever looked when you were alive. Now, you can even buy your coffin in advance and store it in your closet or garage, or use it as a backup bed when guests arrive unexpectedly (that will get rid of them quick.)
You can be cremated and your ashes dealt with however: buried; entombed in a crypt; set in a niche of a columbarium (a room at a cemetery for urns containing cremation ashes); given to someone to take home and save in a decorative container on the fireplace mantel, a china cabinet, an unused back closet, or any other location of your choice; or scattered in your favorite place such as a hiking trail, beach, mountain top, or even flushed down the toilet of a favorite restaurant as someone I know did to fulfill a request.
You can opt for a sky burial, but your body will have to be shipped to Tibet, Mongolia, or parts nearby. Then, you will be placed on a mountaintop to decompose while exposed to the weather or to be eaten by scavenging animals, especially carrion birds such as vultures. Hey, vultures gotta live, too, ya know. And, they will excrete you as they fly, scattering you to add to the cycle of life.
On the other hand, there are other options. Here are a few particularly interesting ones:
Donate your body for medical research. Call the medical university nearest to your residence, and they will arrange to have your remains picked up when the magic notification is received. It requires some advance paperwork by you, but think of how you’ll be contributing to medical science to help humans of the future, maybe even those carrying your own genes. And, it is free. My parents first foisted that idea upon me when they announced it as their choice. I was upset, refused to talk about it, and avoided the discussion for years. Now, I like the idea and am thinking about doing the same.
The Neptune Society has been around since 1973. It also requires advance planning but is not a freebie. For a fee, you will be cremated, and they will scatter your ashes at sea.
Here’s another very compelling idea I just learned about. It’s a true ashes-to-ashes, dust-to-dust cycle that makes me feel good. Bios Urn places your ashes into a biodegradable urn designed to convert you into a tree after life. The urn contains a seed which will grow to be a tree aided by the essence of you. Although I haven’t researched it, I think it can be planted in the location of your choice. I’m not sure about the type of tree you get. If I opt for this path, I’d like mine to be a Redwood; why not go out with a bang? Here’s the link: https://urnabios.com/ There are also biodegradable coffins.
If you do choose one of the above, you or your family can pay or donate money and have a plaque installed in some special place such as a mortuary, university, or park where your loved ones can visit and remember you. Or, they could just remember you on their own. Be kind and generous to them when you’re alive so they will want to do so when you’re not.
Speaking Out (January 22, 2017)
There are many ways to speak out and be heard. One is in a group situation. On January 21, 2017, the Women's March took place across the United States and around the world. Ground Zero was Washington DC where an estimated 500,000 people marched to show their support of different issues they felt might be threatened by the new Trump Administration. They included women's rights, the environment, racial equality, sexual orientation, economic justice, immigration, science, and more.
I marched with my family at the rally in Oakland, CA which drew tens of thousands. I am devoting this blog to photos I took of signs held by random marchers, some plain, some colorful, some simple, some creative, some angry, some staid, some crude, some philosophical, all speaking out and expressing a point of view: Here is the link to see those photos: https://leegalegruen.wordpress.com/2017/01
My New Get-me-from-here-to-there (January 8, 2017)
Yes, I bought another one recently because my sixteen-year-old one conked out. You call it a car or automobile. I call it a get-me-from-here-to-there. That’s its purpose. A bit of comfort is nice: protection from the sun and wind, controlled climate, a smooth ride. In case you weren’t aware, the year, brand, color, and horsepower don’t add to that.
Here’s a not-so-secret secret. I bought a used one even though I could afford a new one. The reason: I didn’t like the styling or increased size of the new, “small” SUVs which is what I wanted. I test drove almost every brand out there but wasn’t satisfied with anything available. So, I researched and found the most recent year I could that had the features which matched my needs.
Our vehicle of choice has become a status symbol with full bragging rights. My get-me-from-here-to-there is better than your get-me-from-here-to-there; ergo, I’m richer, more successful, more desirable, more popular, more lovable, and more (add the descriptor of your choice).
We humans have lots of similar examples in life. Let’s name a few: job, house, furniture, clothing, vacation, spouse, pet, and even our innocent children. Now, come on, folks; you’re still the same freckle faced, too plump, too skinny, too tall, too short, too (add the descriptor of your choice) human that you always were.
Wrapped in an overly expensive (add the material possession, position, relationship, whatever of your choice) doesn’t make you any different. It also doesn’t make you better than anyone else. That comes from the inside. So, cut the crap and stop trying to buy your way into acceptability. It won’t work. For that, you must become a mensch. (Google it for a translation if you must.)
Be kind, donate to a good cause those dollars you waste on the toy du jour, mentor someone, or give your time and energy to something worthy that isn’t your own aggrandizement. Those are the sorts of things that will gain you admiration. Throwing money around on status symbols only makes people snicker behind your back mumbling words like: pathetic.
Words That Diminish (December 29, 2016)
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” We learned that rhyme as children. We tried so hard to remember it when we ran home crying after someone called us a name. Words are powerful. They can enhance or diminish. Wars have been fought over words.
A friend, a retired pathologist and now a widow, recently lamented how demeaned she feels when someone refers to her as granny or honey. A few have done so even knowing she is a medical doctor, an amazing accomplishment especially considering she became one so many decades ago when very few women did.
Denigrating or childlike terms are often applied to elderly women, terms much less frequently used toward men. My friend mentioned that she is often targeted by high pressure salesmen whom she feels see her as an easy mark due to her age and being without a man to protect her. She had an assertive husband most of her adult life and now finds it difficult to stand up for herself.
Many women hide behind a husband or partner to deal with a hostile world. Even though some may consider themselves assertive, often they are better at it when they know they have a man to back them up. It’s like the child who dares to stand up to the neighborhood bully, but when it becomes too overwhelming, he runs and hides behind mommy’s skirt.
Somehow, men seem better at setting boundaries than women. Why is that? Is it inherent or simply taught to us as young children? Why can’t the bulk of women and even a lot of men be assertive and stand up for themselves? What is the secret and how can we tap into it? I’ll venture a guess.
Stop being invisible, people! It’s time to get tough. Imagine how you would like to be treated by everyone with whom you come in contact, and then refuse to accept anything less. The term “dissed” has become popular in recent times. It means disrespected, and people kill over being dissed.
Your first clue that you’ve fallen into that vortex again is when that wonky feeling overtakes your body after someone has spoken to you in a manner that minimizes you whether done subtly or overtly. Everything becomes surreal, and you have a vague sensation that it has something to do with what that person just said to you.
Halt everything you’re doing. Take a moment or two or ten to identify what is bothering you rather than waiting hours or even days to figure it out. If you must, ask the other person to be quiet while you think. Once you’ve identified it--he just called me (fill in the blank), and I don’t like that--you are ready to start. Don’t let it pass; let it energize you to action.
There are tools we can use at any age when we feel verbally discounted by another. Confrontation is one that yields rewarding results. If someone addresses you in a way you consider disparaging, call them out. Here are several suggested approaches using the irritating salesman as an example. Of course, it can be extrapolated to other scenarios.
Approach #1: Interrupt all interaction and transactions by saying “excuse me” repeatedly until your opponent stops talking. Then, pause, look him or her in the eye, and say something like: “What was that you called me—(fill in the derogatory term he/she used)? I’d prefer that you address me as (fill in the blank) rather than (fill in the aforementioned derogatory term).” Continue the interaction if that suits you.
Approach #2: Do the same initial behavior as in Approach #1, and then say something like: “I don’t like being referred to in disrespectful terms like (fill in the derogatory term he/she used), so I’m going to leave now.” Stay calm; do not get into a cat fight; and follow through. Walk out! You were born with feet. This is one of the best times to use them.
Approach #3: Do the same initial behavior as in Approach #1, and then request another salesman, server, bank teller, whatever. Your errant foe will apologize, posture, get angry, and use other types of behavior to convince you to change your mind. Don’t settle. When he/she pauses for a breath, repeat your request. Keep doing it at each pause, like the proverbial broken record. If that isn’t working, ask to see the manager. If nothing works, don’t say another word. Walk out! (Remember, you have feet. And, by the way, feet can be used in all sorts of situations without requiring the mouth to set the stage.)
If you’re not used to assertive approaches like these and have a more reserved demeanor, it will be hard at first. Keep practicing; it will become easier. You can still be true to your usual nature as none of these approaches has to be done in an angry, defiant, high-pitched manner. Don’t sacrifice your dignity to gain your dignity. Retain your decorum, but be firm and insistent. If you must walk out, you may cost yourself some time and the product or service you came for. However, it will be worth it for the good feelings you’ll reap after taking charge of how you allow yourself to be treated. And, you will have done a good deed. You will have taught your adversary a lesson on how not to address older people. I bet he/she will never do that again.
Insist on being dealt with respectfully. That’s what the big boys do.
Trumpet Yourself (December 16, 2016)
The transitive verb “to trumpet” means to talk about your own or someone else's accomplishments in an enthusiastic manner.
Yes, it’s always been considered acceptable to trumpet someone else’s achievements. But, what about when you do so for your own achievements?
I’ve always found it hard to tell people about my accomplishments. It makes me feel like I’m bragging, and that’s an uncomfortable position for me. After I wrote a book, I learned that I would have to market it. That meant going against my grain and inserting it into the conversation whenever I had a chance.
I’m still timid about it. I do it in an almost apologetic manner. However, when you must promote and market, you simply can't wait and hope for someone else to trumpet it for you. You must blow your own trumpet.
I was a participant at a recent book sale and signing which was part of a large event offering numerous items for sale. As attendees made their way to my book club’s long table and over to me, I would have to quickly start my spiel about my book, giving my brief elevator speech to grab their attention. I was competing not only with the other authors at my table but also with the scores of other tables in the hall, each with hawkers of the wares they and their fellow group members had made: jewelry, ceramics, wooden objects, sewing items, bakery goods, and lots more. All this tumult was noisy, confusing, and distracting. I felt like a circus barker having to yell louder, be flashier, or spin a more interesting and compelling yarn than my competitors.
Participation in fierce competition can be exhausting and off-putting. How does one function in a situation like that, especially when it is against your nature? You can start by accepting that it is okay to trumpet yourself from time to time. Of course, it would be nice if you can avoid becoming obnoxious about it. View it as a challenge to learn a new skill. See it as a growth experience to broaden yourself. Do it sparingly to avoid wearing out your audience.
As grownups, we sometimes must be involved in disquieting situations which are against our normal inclination. Changing your mental attitude can help you get through it.
The Death of a Friend (December 4, 2016)
I lost Sue, one of my closest friends, a few days ago. She just couldn’t fight the complications her body imposed on her from the recent onslaught of leukemia and subsequent chemotherapy. I was told she died peacefully in her daughter’s arms. I hope she was aware enough in her morphine haze to realize that she was lovingly cradled through her passage.
I’m walking around in a fog—can’t quite grasp it all. It doesn’t make any sense that I can’t just pick up the phone, call Sue, and hear her on the other end: “Oh, hi Trixie,” a nickname she anointed me with on our trip to Europe together thirty-five years ago shortly after we became friends. How can I now be speaking about her in the past tense? I don’t like it; I refuse to do it! Will my pathetic rebellion bring her back?
So many thoughts, memories. I look at things in my house and remember a comment she made, an item she gave me, something I purchased when I was with her. A few weeks ago, I finally threw out the package of all-natural pineapple popsicles wasting space in my freezer that she bought after making the four-hundred mile trip to visit me in my new home just two and half months ago. She loved them; I hated them. I wish I had kept them.
During that visit, Sue treated Cousin Judy, me, and herself to manicures following our lunch at a local restaurant. We dominated the shop, talking, laughing, just hanging out as the staff worked on us. A few weeks later, I told her I wanted to do that again; I feel cheated out of our second act.
I’m thinking of revisiting skiing after a hiatus of a few years. Sue started me on that addiction.
“Let’s go skiing,” she suggested one day early in our friendship.
“Oh, not me. I don’t know how to ski. I’m not that athletic. I don’t have any skis or ski clothes.”
She ignored my protestations and brought me into her bedroom. Drawers were opened and an assortment of ski clothes, nothing matching, was thrown onto the bed. My first days on the bunny hill announced to the world that I was a newbie and had had to beg my ensemble. I learned, became hooked, bought myself the equipment and attire, and we skied together for years.
I don’t understand death. How can one so vital be here one moment and not the next, leaving only an empty shell that looks like her but can’t say, “Oh, hi Trixie”?
You Win Some; You Lose Some (November 20, 2016)
We’ve just come through a grueling, national election. I won’t even attempt to grapple with people’s feelings if their chosen side didn’t win. Some are taking it in stride while others are out demonstrating. They are angry, down, refusing to accept it, and unable to move on. That can be extrapolated to everyday life.
How do you handle it when things don’t go right? If you’re like me, it bums you out. You try to reason with yourself, but somehow the rest of the day just sucks. I experienced two events within the past year, both involving my car, that are illustrations:
My Example 1:
The first time I ventured into “the city” near my new home in the suburbs, I got involved in rush hour traffic and was forced onto a toll bridge not even knowing it was a bridge. Where I had lived all my life before my recent move, we didn’t have toll roads or highway length bridges.
I didn’t know where I was or how to get off. I cruised along in the outer lane, ignoring the booths several lanes to the left with all the cars lined up which I noticed out of the corner of my eye. After all, my lane was doing fine. Three miles later, I was able to turn around and return without incident.
That night, my son explained to me what had happened. I was on a bridge driving solo in the car pool lane and hadn’t paid the toll. I could expect a ticket in the mail. Bummer!
“I’ll go to court and fight it.”
“Yeah, sure, Mom.”
We did a little role playing:
Me: “Your honor, I’m new to this area, and I didn’t know I was on a bridge, and that I was supposed to pay.”
My son as the judge: “Ignorance of the law is no excuse, madam.”
Me: “Have some mercy, your honor. I’m just a sweet, little old lady." (I become sweet and old in situations like this.)
My son as the judge: “Just pay the fine and learn a lesson. NEXT.”
My Example 2:
Earlier this year, I hit, or should I say tapped, the car, or should I say pickup truck, in front of me while coming to a stop at a red light. Who knows how or why I did it? All I know is that I felt a thud and looked up to see myself flush with the vehicle ahead.
The driver and his passenger both got out and walked toward me. I got out to meet them. I knew it was going to go badly when the driver wagged his finger at me as though I were a wayward child.
My car had just two small chipped areas in the paint on the front bumper about three feet apart. His back bumper was twisted upward in the middle with my paint transfer far to each side of that area. He, of course, insisted the damage had not been there before, and that my car bumper must have forced each side of his bumper to move toward the center. Did I mention that my bumper is plastic and his is metal?
The driver appeared to be approximately late-fifties and in decent shape. His well-built, muscular passenger appeared to be in his twenties. Their pickup truck had one of those toolboxes stretching across the front of the truck bed. I concluded that they performed labor of some sort and were in good physical condition. I was not hurt, and they were talking and walking around with gusto which suggested to me that they, too, were not hurt. Silly me!
Jumping forward, my insurance company bought their stories that their vehicle bumper damage was caused by my car, and that both the driver and passenger were injured. Over my protestations, they paid the two men a total of $11,000 for their injuries and paid for the damaged bumper on their truck. It was cheaper to pay the nuisance value of the claim than to fight it in court. That is how insurance companies function. The fallout to me is that I lost my good driver discount.
Ah, yes, you win some and you lose some. The above are just two small examples of the latter. When things like that happen, the only salvation is to focus on the former. Thankfully, we do win some. Let’s be grateful for that. They could all be losers, you know.
I Am Not an Aquarian! (November 4, 2016)
I was on my way from my car to a store last week when I noticed a woman walking next to me in the parking lot. She pointed to my shoes and said, "Oh, you have those new arch support tennis shoes. I saw them on television."
"Oh no, these are quite old. They're nothing special."
"Yeah, those are the ones. They've got arches built into them."
I went on to explain, "Well, I wear orthotics, so I don't depend on arches in the shoes even if there are any."
"Yeah, they have great arch supports, and they have those little springs in them," she insisted.
"No, I don't think they have any springs in them."
That's when she torpedoed me with, "Geez, you must be an Aquarian. You argue about everything.
" I could feel my temper rising. I wanted her to know that I am not an Aquarian. I wanted to argue about the fact that I do not argue about everything.
The whole thing suddenly became silly. Was I going to get into a cat fight over my old tennis shoes? This was a total stranger who obviously had her own agenda. I did not start talking to her; she started talking to me. She was convinced that she was right about her assessment of my shoes, and nothing was going to change her mind. She also knew she was right about my being an argumentative type, apparently like those born between January 20 and February 18, who, she was certain, argue about everything. She failed to see her own role in our escalating discussion. I'm guessing that this was not a new situation for her.
I know very little about the Signs of the Zodiac including my own which happens to be Capricorn if anyone is interested. I don't believe that what month, day, time, or moon phase during which you were born has anything to do with your personality. I also don't believe that all those of the Aquarian persuasion argue about everything. I'm sure there are nice, pleasant Aquarians and not so nice ones as there are for every other Zodiac sign.
The point here is: What do you do when you find yourself in a situation where a stranger manages to insult you within five minutes of meeting them? There is not an easy answer. You feel your face flush, and you want to defend yourself.
Try to step back and realize how ridiculous the whole thing is. You're not going to dissuade your attacker from their conviction. Why waste your time and energy trying to do so? The best course of action is to concede the point graciously and get away ASAP. You know you're right, and it doesn't matter whether they know it or not, especially if you're an Aquarian.
Respecting the Priorities of Others (October 20, 2016)
We all have our priorities. Why can’t lampshades be someone’s? I met that someone recently when I was shopping for the item in question.
I was wandering through a local shopping mall and strolled into a store that sold lamps and lampshades exclusively. The threshold tripped the bell in back whereupon a man I presumed to be the store owner emerged and asked the standard shopkeeper question: “May I help you?” I explained that I was looking for shades for a few table lamps. That was his cue.
The proprietor proceeded to educate me about lampshades and their importance in my life, a subject about which I had given very little thought. He made it clear that he was an expert in the field and, according to him, choosing the proper lampshade "is the most important decision you'll have to make." I never knew that, and I pondered over it for the appropriate period of time to satisfy him.
Together, we surveyed the store’s offerings as my host explained each shade's details to me. One had to consider proportion, material, light emitted or blocked, price, color, and more. However, I had made a grave error. I had not brought my shadeless lamps with me for a proper fitting. I was embarrassed by my error and begged forgiveness. He succumbed, but only after I agreed to bring said objects the next time I came looking for their toppings.
After my guide told me he had been in the lampshade business for over thirty years, I understood his perspective. We all think that what we are doing is the most important, urgent, relevant pursuit there is. Although someone else's passion may be totally different than ours and even something that seems silly to us, can't we consider the point of view of others? After all, it may be something they have spent decades pursuing and perfecting, and who are we to decide that it has little or no relevance?
I've always treated lampshades as simply decorative filters for the lights I need in my home. However, to this man they were his field of expertise just as doctors, lawyers, and others have theirs, and it was refreshing to see him taking pride in his work. Lampshades were the vehicle to put food on his table and provide shelter from the elements. What's wrong with that?
Perhaps we can respect differences of opinion, priority, or emphasis even though we don’t adopt them as our own? Although my focus in life is not lampshades, or least it didn’t used to be, who’s to say that what I deem most important needs to be so for others? Let's accept, appreciate, and acknowledge that something like lampshades may be compelling and significant in the life of another? It makes bumping up against each other in a crowded society just a bit easier.
Don’t Squander Your Complaint Quota (October 4, 2016)
Complaining—ah, we all love to do it. Some do it very little and others more so. Then, there are those who have honed it to an art form. They seem to complain frequently and obsessively. This constant default position can render their targets weary, ditsy, spaced out, and generally down.
It’s hard to confront the expert complainers about their behavior because their logical comeback is, “Well, you complain, too.” How do you get it across that it is a matter of degree, and who sets the rules on where the line has been crossed? That’s a tough one. Who am I to say that my amount of complaining is correct but yours is not?
To solve this conundrum, I’ve developed a philosophy that works for me; feel free to use it. It goes like this: We are all born with a given amount of complaints available to us, sort of like a woman is born with a given amount of eggs that she ovulates monthly until they are used up. Some people spread out their allotment of complaints over their lifetime, while others use them up long before the inevitable final bell.
Once you deplete your allotment of complaints, you cannot complain anymore. If you try to do so, those of us on the receiving end are justified in simply walking away, hanging up the phone, or otherwise ignoring you. You may get mad, posture, yell and scream, profess you don’t understand, and all other manner of push back, but that’s it—no more complaints from you.
So folks, and especially the serial complainers, guard, hoard, and care for your allotment of complaints. It is not infinite.
Drama Kings and Queens (September 23, 2016)
Do you have someone in your life who is a drama king or queen? Are you one? You know the type. They always seem to have a crisis, event, happening, whatever that is the most urgent, horrible, fantastic, important, (add your own adjective) thing in the world. If their current focus is on solving their problem du jour, preferably with your help, angst, time and attention, once it is over, a new one usually pops up. What’s going on?
Everyone wants attention; it is normal. We take steps to achieve it such as talking about interesting things or trying to excel at something, etc. However, many people with drama king/queen traits hunger for attention and never seem to get enough to satisfy them. To that end, they have figured out how well it works to be hyper-vigilant about a multitude of matters. The logical segue, of course, is to make a big deal about the goings-on in their life to anyone who will listen and jump into the fray. They are drawn to those who will play the game. Their approach can be to an individual or group and often starts with openings such as: "I really need your advice on this," or "Let me tell you what happened to me today (yesterday, last night, week, year, century)."
Are you tired of being sucked into this type of interaction? If so, how do you protect yourself from the ravages of being on the receiving end of someone else’s hyped-up drama? It’s hard, especially if that someone is significant in your life such as a spouse, child, parent, co-worker, boss, etc. However, playing the co-dependent doesn’t help them or you.
Here is one approach: when the next performance starts and becomes too much to bear, make an excuse to get out of their presence. Feel free to use the following phrases and add to them:
1. "Excuse me, but I have to go to the bathroom." (Positioning yourself as having weak bladder and/or bowel
control is a convenient deflector.)
2. "Oh, I have to rush off now to get to my appointment with my doctor (dentist, therapist, dog groomer, astrologer,
guru, your service professional of choice)."
Remember, it's only fun being a drama king/queen if you have an audience.
Learning the Ropes (September 8, 2016)
This a continuation of my three previous blogs about moving from my house of forty-five years:
In my new life, I am striving to drive an automobile less often. Having previously lived in Los Angeles, California since childhood, I drove my car everywhere. Yes, there is public transportation available there, but because of that city's greater distances and its being a commuter way of life, the majority of people drive. I’m sick of driving, of fighting rush hour traffic, and of the stress of trying not to kill myself or others as I speed along, a lone traveler leaving a carbon footprint that is shared with so many rather than a gentler impact on our stressed planet. So, yes, I’m learning to use public transportation.
I braved the local subway yesterday for the first time armed with my senior pass. Even applying for it was one of many in a very long list of new learning curves. I entered the train, positioned myself directly in front of the map on the wall, and compared it with the plans I had sketched out before beginning the undertaking. As we stopped at each station, I peeked out of the open door and read the sign to be sure I was where I thought I was. No one else was doing so. They all seemed comfortable with where they were located in space.
What a strange experience sharing a car with multitudes, most engrossed with their IT devices. I saw young professional types dressed in power suits presumably on their way to important business activities. I saw backpack wearers, some with predictable bicycles which they leaned against a railing installed for such gear. I saw mothers with their children, twosomes or threesomes engaged in chitchat, and homeless or almost homeless souls.
Mass public transportation seems to have its own protocol and mores, just like most activities. I was fascinated by a woman who entered the car wearing a spaghetti strap, camisole shirt. She seated herself, opened her purse, pulled out a small jar, and balanced it on her knee. Then, using a fingertip, she scooped out a dab of the glop it contained and applied it to one armpit, switched hands, and did the same to the other one. All this was accomplished without missing a beat of her ongoing cellphone conversation. And to think I’ve always been timid about putting on lipstick with strangers nearby.
Once I realized that it was acceptable to groom oneself on public transportation, I took out the only thing I had to compete with her: a nail file. For the rest of the trip, I gave myself a manicure sans nail polish. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you don't have to obey the hands-free rule of the motorist. Next time I ride the metro, I might just arrive in my pajamas tugging my daytime garb along in a rolling suitcase. I'm sure it won't faze the other passengers as I change my clothes since most of them have their heads buried in their cell phones anyway.
Settling In (August 24, 2016)
This is a continuation of my two previous blogs about moving from my house of forty-five years:
I arrived at my new, empty condo and settled down for the night on a mat on the floor which I'd brought tied to the top of my car. To put a positive spin on a bleak experience, I chose to view it as camping out complete with dinner by flashlight.
The moving van arrived with my furniture the next day. Aside from some minor damage to a few articles, most of my belongings were intact.
It's strange to accept that this is my new home and not just a vacation rental—temporary digs until returning to my real life. It's strange to realize that there are new people living in my old house now. They are cooking in my kitchen, showering in my bathroom, storing their possessions in my closets, and generally displacing me. Will my old house remember me and all the years I spent painting her, repairing her, gentling her as she broke down? We aged together, my old house and I, our parts wearing out and needing fixing.
My condo is becoming a home. It's an adjustment, but I'm slowly personalizing it. I’ve installed my own furniture,
tchotchkes, and even some beloved plants which accompanied me in my car, gently covered to shade them from the harsh sun. Pictures and other touches brought from my former life to make me feel comfortable are coming out of boxes. Oh, the boxes—daunting as they stare at me, tease me. They are slowly disappearing as I tackle them, sift through their contents I so carefully packed, rediscover my possessions, and make decisions where to situate them.
I'm arranging, rearranging, and learning how things work. There are so many decisions to make—big ones, small ones, and all sizes in between. Where’s the light switch? Okay, I found it. Now, how do I turn it on? In my new abode, the refrigerator opens on the opposite side from my old one. My kitchen sink is a double like before, but the garbage disposal is on the right, not on the left—grrrr. I concentrate hard on everything; nothing comes automatically—tiring, very tiring. I need a vacation from decision making.
There are lots of problems to solve: the toilet that leaks when flushed and the air conditioning that doesn’t properly condition the air to name a few. Yes, my home warranty covers them. But, it still means I have to figure out who to call, be there for an appointment, and live with the problem until the problem solver arrives. I remind myself that they are only bumps in the road—first world problems as I’ve blogged about before.
My son mentioned how strange it felt to call my old telephone number, the only landline he ever knew for me, to find a mechanical voice referral to another number. I’ve spent hours on that new phone calling all the enterprises that define my life: credit card companies, insurance companies, utilities, my HMO, and on and on, to inform them of this major, traumatic change in my life and to give them my new address. Oddly, they were only interested in the latter.
I’m making almost daily trips to such establishments as Target; Bed, Bath and Beyond; hardware stores; and others of that ilk to purchase anew the things I left behind and, of course, now need.
On the flip side, I love my new condo; it's everything I wanted. Deer and wild turkeys stroll through my backyard from time to time, and I watch them from my office window. I can't get enough of that.
My son came over with his tools to help me set up a few things. This is the first time I have lived close to him since he left for college twenty-five years ago. He's coming over again next weekend to do more and just generally hang out. He'll bring over my daughter-in-law and grandchildren soon so everyone can see grandma's new pad.
My neighbor stopped over a few days ago to introduce herself and bring me a box of candy and a sweet note. Friends I made when I rented for a few months in this community last year to try it on for size have reached out to me and are eager to reconnect. It makes me feel welcome, like coming home again—back in a comfort zone.
I have downsized and aim for a slower, less stressful life. I love it here and don't regret my move. Yes, this was the right decision for me.
It's hard to admit when something has run its course. We hang on, hoping to return to a time of contentment, refusing to admit that it has passed and lives only in memory. Change is frightening, but we must forge on when life gets stale. It’s calming and soothing when you know you’ve gotten it right.
Driving to My New Life (August 9, 2016)
This is a continuation of my previous blog about moving from my house of forty-five years:
The moving van left an hour ago carrying the majority of my possessions—so significant to me yet filling only a third of the huge transport. One last surreal glance back at the old house which sheltered me for almost half a century before I, too, leave.
I’m driving up the interstate next to tomato trucks, their trailers piled high with the red fruit. I pass them as I hurry on to my new life. A short time later, they pass me parked on the shoulder eating my lunch. They’re like old friends, marking my progress.
Hung out for a while with an army convoy until they peeled off. Thank you guys for guarding me on this trip and in general.
Passed an industrial farm of thousands of cows crammed together with very little personal space. Makes me want to become a vegetarian.
Moseyed alongside hundreds of orange trees on the right and an equal number of almond trees on the left. Farmers had posted signs every few miles on the sides of abandoned trucks reminders such as: “No water, No jobs,” as though their concern for their low-paid workers was their only reason for being. The desert landscape abuts the orchards—not an environment meant for thirsty, cultivated trees.
I spot in the rearview mirror my two-foot high dieffenbachia, leaves swaying gently with the motion of the road, waiting to be installed in its new home, too. Yes, I can buy a new one when I arrive, but I wanted something alive from my old life with me. It’s comforting.
A friend gave me a toy rooster as a gift last year. Nearby motion causes it to crow three times making me want to strangle it. She insisted I place it next to my front door to warn me if intruders break in during the night. The rooster is ensconced in a box in the back of my car. Every time I go over a bump, it segues into crowing mode. That, too, is comforting—reminds me of home.
Snippets of the California aqueduct pass by, flowing liquid surrounded by an arid land. I come upon large mounds of dirt with giant, erector set machinery crawling over them, mining something undisclosed to passing drivers.
Around the next turn, a windmill farm appears upon a hill, three-leaf clover blades churning out renewable energy which flows through huge cables held up by giant electrical towers nearby—environmentally friendly power for a city. Diametrically opposed was an identical, long line of electrical towers a few cities back holding up their non-renewable energy powered cables—a contrast of changing times.
My anticipation is growing. I’m almost there. Excitement and apprehension.
Moving On (July 26, 2016)
The seventy-foot moving van arrived this morning (an aggregator, transporting the possessions of different people all going in the same direction.) I’m getting ready to move from my house of forty-five years into a condo in an active, senior retirement community almost four hundred miles away. It’s a seismic change for me—scary and exciting all rolled into one. It’s a good thing I didn’t know how awful such an endeavor would be, or I don’t think I would have started it.
I am a hoarder—not to be confused with a clutterer. My house is neat and clean. But, my closets, cupboards, cabinets, drawers, garage, and anywhere else you can stuff stuff are bursting with the things I’ve been saving for decades in case I might need them. You know what I mean; the minute you throw something away, it’s not a week later that you’ll be searching for it.
I’ve spent the last months sorting through it all, including the boxes of stuff my son dropped off when he graduated college almost twenty-five years ago. So, now I must decide what to keep, give away, donate, recycle, or throw away. It’s been painful, exhausting, devastating, cleansing, liberating, and consuming.
These days, you can’t just carelessly discard those important papers you’ve been accumulating. Now you must shred them as they contain sensitive information which can be retrieved from dumpsters and used to steal your identity. I attacked those papers with my little office shredder, but when that became cumbersome and didn’t make a dent in the job, I hauled about four hundred pounds of documents to a local shredding event put on by the city.
I culled my collection of thousands of old photographs taken before the technique became digital. I threw away snapshots of beautiful rivers, mountains, deserts, canyons, and other assorted scenery I long ago forgot the locations of. I vow I will never take another picture of anything that doesn’t have a human in it whom I know and like.
You can no longer throw paint, medications, household cleaners, electronic devices, and the like in the garbage. You must haul them to the toxic waste and electronic disposal sites. Each time I tried to throw such an item in the dumpster, my good citizen guilt pulled my arm back and made me put it in the trunk of my car for proper handling.
Of course, I elected to pack my own things; I'm no wimp. To that end, I trolled alleys visiting those same dumpsters seeking cardboard cartons to pack what remained. Loading up my car, I drove home with my daily harvest. Finding the boxes was easy. We have become an "order online" society, throwing away the wonderful containers used to deliver our purchases. Huge boxes grew in my garage to a total of twenty-nine, waiting patiently for the moving van to collect them along with the furniture I chose to keep.
I have become buff with all the physical labor I’ve been doing. It’s more effective than working out at the gym and a lot cheaper. I will be sad to leave my home city since childhood and my friends of many years. Conversely, I’m eagerly anticipating my coming life and the new friends and experiences that await me. Is it time for you to move on? It’s better to do it when you can rather than when you must.
Mercurial Personalities (July 8, 2016)
Some people swing rapidly from one emotional extreme to the other, just like the liquid metal mercury used in thermometers which shifts dramatically with the temperature. In the human form, it’s not the temperature that sets them off, and you will never know what does. They can be fun, loving, upbeat one day or even one moment and without warning, switch to the polar opposite—angry, rejecting, a real downer.
Those that experience such swings to a pathological degree might be diagnosed as bi-polar or what used to be called manic-depressive. Their emotional lives are a constant roller coaster. There are psychiatric medications that help with their mood swings. Sometimes they work; sometimes they don’t. I’ve often thought how difficult life must be for the bearer of such a personality.
But, what about the rest of us who must interact with someone like that? It might be a spouse or significant other, a relative, a co-worker, a teacher, or the cashier at the market. We are sucked in by how charming and exciting they can be in their up times and bitterly disappointed and hurt when we are attacked or shunned in their down times. We ruminate, wondering what we might have done to offend them, not realizing that the problem lies within them, not due to anything we did. We were simply the nearest human available to dump on. If it is someone we’re close to and see regularly, we ride right along on their roller coaster albeit not of our choosing.
I have had such an experience with someone significant in my life. I grew to always be on the defensive when dealing with him, never knowing when I’d get it right over the head. Even when we seemed to be having a happy time, I was anxious, wondering when it would turn. Our interactions became more and more stressful, and I came to dread them. I once asked if he were bi-polar. He said his psychiatrist told him he wasn’t. Well, if that’s the case, in my opinion he’s as close to being bi-polar that one can get without being bi-polar.
In looking back at my history of friends, I realize I’ve had several of a capricious nature to one degree or another. They can be fascinating, stimulating people, and that’s the hook for me. However, I’ve learned that being victimized by interaction with a mercurial character is miserable, causing me nothing but tension and angst.
I frequently write in my blog that we must protect ourselves from victimization. Yes, we must take the strain out of being on the receiving end of a personality that switches with lightning speed, always catching us off-guard, always creating anxiety.
If the person is so significant in our lives that we choose not to cut them loose such as a parent or a child, what can we do? We can refuse to engage when they get into attack mode. We can leave the room. We can exit the location and take a walk or a drive. If this type of thing has happened to you when you’re out together socially, always take your own car so you can make a quick get-away if necessary or be prepared to hail a taxi or ride sharing service. Protect yourself. Mr./Ms. Mercurial won’t.
When Strangers Behave Offensively (June 24, 2016)
What happens when a stranger you encounter in public says something or behaves in a certain way toward you that you find uncomfortable or disagreeable? The stranger’s behavior may be so sudden and unexpected that it catches you off guard. That, along with knowing that your reaction will be on display for everyone nearby to observe, can be disconcerting and cause you to fumble and stumble in your response. The whole matter becomes embarrassing with the stranger seeming to win the day.
I’ve had that type of scenario happen to me many times, and it always upsets me since I didn’t invite or desire to be placed in that position. Recently, I found myself in yet another such situation and was proud of myself for handling it on the spot rather than mulling over it and coming up with a good response several hours later—way too late, beating myself up with “I-should-have-said” thoughts.
I was in a restaurant with a group of people I didn’t know after we had all attended the same lecture. I sat down in a seat with no one on either side of me. Suddenly, a swaggering, blustery type of man entered, looked around the room, and announced in a loud voice for everyone to hear, “I think I’ll sit right here next to this nice young lady” as he plunked himself in the empty chair directly to my right. His line was condescending and sexist, especially considering that he had no idea whether I am nice, and I am certainly not a young lady. Yes, given his age, he was probably old school. You know the type: women are just objects to be available for the enhancement of men. To be clear, men can be the victims of offensive behavior from strangers, too.
These situations are frequently foisted upon us without warning and with no time to prepare. I managed to blurt out, “Oh, I probably will be moving my seat soon as I want to sit near the speaker when she arrives.” It was both the truth and a good, take-charge response.
Mr. Swagger, still playing to his audience, continued in his booming baritone, “Oh no, you sit right here next to me.” Having a history of feeling intimidated when confronted by strong personality types, my normal reaction would have been to just laugh politely, try not to attract any more attention, and follow his orders to stay where I was not knowing what else to do.
Instead, picturing the entire meal with this controlling bore sitting next to me, I said, “I came to this lunch for one reason and that is to be able to converse with the speaker. I will sit where I choose when the speaker arrives.” Mr. S. never said another word to me as I guess I made him look foolish after his great pronouncements.
I was proud of taking care of myself and my needs and not letting someone else dictate how the occasion was going to progress for me. If a stranger, or anyone else for that matter, chooses to behave in a manner that sets up how things are going to go for you, you have a right to be just as obtuse and set them straight. This is difficult for more reserved types, especially if public display or rocking the boat are not your thing. However, you must take care of yourself folks. No one else will.
Pet Peeves (June 13, 2016)
We all have pet peeves, those things that irritate us as we go about the business of living. How do we weather them and decrease the stress they cause? Before we attack that question, I thought I’d list a few of my favorites:
1. Bar code stickers on fruit. Many require you to cut with a knife or jam your fingernail into the fruit in order to peel the damn thing off.
2. The driver in the left turn lane with a long line of cars behind him/her who creeps up just a few inches into the crosswalk when the signal turns green. He sits awaiting the oncoming traffic which never seems to end. When the light turns red, he finally moves fully into the intersection, which he should have done in the first place so that I might have been able to creep up and shadow his bumper, thereby enabling two people to turn left instead of just one.
3. Self-flushing toilets in public lavatories which wait until you put down the paper toilet seat cover and are about to enthrone yourself when it decides to flush and whip away the target just as you are descending.
I’m sure everyone has at least one to add to my list. Feel free to do so by commenting to my post. Yes, each of these incidents and so many more take just a few seconds off of our projected lifespans. The only way to cope in a beneficial manner is to try to turn your pique into humor.
Some years ago, I used this approach with yet another pet peeve. I love dogs but really hate when one leaves its bountiful deposit on my grass and the jerk on the other end of the leash fails to pick it up and dispose of it elsewhere. So, I put up a sign which said, “If your dog poops on my lawn, please pick it up. If you can’t bring yourself to do so, please leave me your address so I can bring it to your house and drop it on your lawn.” I don’t know that it cured the problem, but at least it gave everyone a laugh.
When pet peeves happen over and over again and you have no power to change them, turn them into something positive for yourself so that you’re the winner. It certainly is better than the alternative.
You're Fine Just the Way You Are (May 29, 2016)
This is a continuation of the conversation in my last blog post.
Few admit to having a face lift or bags removed from under their eyes or (fill in the cosmetic procedure/surgery of your choice). The euphemism “I’m having work done” has replaced the embarrassing to admit, “I’m having plastic surgery." The euphemism “to look more refreshed” has replaced the truer “to look younger.”
Many go to great lengths to keep their latest cosmetic surgery a secret. If it's so okay, why the privacy, shame, and avoidance of public discussion? Do the refreshees think that others don't know what's going on; if it isn't spoken, it doesn't exist? Do they think that others don't know the huge amount of money they've expended to look youthful which could have been spent on something much more substantial like their retirement? Do they think that a face without wrinkles and bags really matches nicely with stooped bodies, age spots, sagging necks, and loose skin?
Shakespeare, that sly bard, said, "What's in a name?" Yes, if we can use a different terminology, we think it changes the stark reality of what’s really going on: I want to look younger because I’ve bought into the hype that it’s more desirable than how I look now—your true age, God forbid.
Marketing for elective cosmetic procedures and surgeries has played on our insecurities: I’m ugly, undesirable, and unloveable the way I am. If I do (again fill in the blank), I will be beautiful, desirable, and loved.
We all know on a visceral level this is not true. But,we're flocking to the purveyors of these myths "just in case."
Recently, a friend had cataract surgery. I emailed her to inquire how it went. We had the following back and forth emails:
Lee Gale: How are your eyes doing?
Friend: The great part is the richness of color and the clarity. I feel like Dorothy in Oz. The bad part is looking in the
mirror and seeing all the lines and bags and spots so clearly. I aged 25 years in 24 hours.
LG: You are Dorothy. People are attracted to you because of your talents, your enthusiasm, and your zest for life.
That was so 24 hours ago and has not changed just because you can see your physical self more clearly. You're fine the
way you are. Don't start getting crazy notions into your head. I just saw a current picture of (famous 1950s movie star) who
now has one of those grotesque, plastic surgery faces. OMG!
F: I am going to copy your words, enlarge them and hang them next to my mirror. THANKS a hundred mil.
The singer, Michael Jackson, was a sad character who, despite talent and success most people never achieve, was so insecure that he became a plastic surgery junkie and, in his own description of himself, ended up looking like a lizard. We can all name one famous person after another with a similar story. Most of us can name one not-so-famous person, too.
I call it the plastic surgery merry-go-round which is my euphemism for addiction to those types of procedures. I've heard of physicians who put out newsletters about the latest tweaks available for potential buyers of their wares. Others have parties so their clients can show off their most recent, surgically-induced look to each other and shop for what their next youth-enhancing move will be. Then, there are those addicts who are so self-critical that they have the same procedure repeatedly because the outcome from the previous one wasn't exactly what they had envisioned, or now that look is out and another is in—kind of like trendy clothing. Michael Jackson became a man with almost no nose at all.
So, what I want to know is where are the spouses, the significant others, the children, and the good friends to tell people that they are fine, lovable, and desirable just the way they are—that they don't have to spend thousands of dollars, put their health or life at risk and take the chance of looking grotesque just to get people to like and accept them?
Being at the Whim of Marketeers (May 13, 2016)
Marketeers spend a lot of time, energy, and money defining what is desirable and attractive—what we absolutely must have. They hawk it to the masses via advertising and the media. Then, they sell it to us.
I have been a victim of this all my life with my skills, my possessions, my appearance, and so on. My insecurity, carefully nurtured from childhood, has always convinced me that if I look a certain way, possess a particular talent, own a specific object, etc., it’s not a big deal—anyone can do it, have it or whatever. Of course, if I don’t have the latest thing trending at the moment, it’s the most coveted state imaginable, and I yearn for it.
That type of thinking is found in groups of all ages, sexes, socio-economic strata, and every other classification into which we divide human beings. It’s sad the lengths to which people will go to attain that artificially created, can’t-live-without-it lifestyle.
I read a while ago about the growing number of Asian women having plastic surgery on their eyelids to make them look more American or European. Of course, it’s easy for me to pass judgment on such an act as ridiculous, sitting on my perch with my Caucasian eyelids. But, I’m the same person who dyed my hair blond for decades so I could bump up my fun level. If you don’t believe me about that perk, just ask Miss Clairol.
Look at the success of Botox because it has been fed to us for decades that youth is in and wrinkles, those town criers of aging, are out. What other animal in the world deliberately ingests poison into its body?
The popularity of liposuction is fueled by the current ideal of concentration-camp thin bodies, making zaftig thighs, hips, whatevers so unattractive. By the way, save that fat they suck out of you, people. Kim Kardashian (never thought I’d print her name in my blog) is changing that fashion, and big hips are coming back into vogue. I’ll bet your liposuction guy will give you a deal on reinjecting the fat he removed from your (fill in the blank) a few years ago and you saved in a bottle in your closet, way in the back hidden out of sight behind your luggage.
Of course, you could cut your lipo guy (or dermatologist, or plastic surgeon, or whomever) loose and start being okay with yourself and making your own decisions about how you’ll live your life—what an idea! Think about it. Someone is creating our insecurities and making a fortune off of them. And, it only works because we cooperate so willingly.
Slowing Down (April 29, 2016)
For so many of us, it’s hard to slow down. We’ve been used to a certain pace in our lives for years—decades. It’s a rhythm we follow and have honed to a comfort level. We may be over-committed: classes, jobs or volunteer positions, dates with friends, meetings, etc., all requiring us to show up according to a certain schedule. Yes, we enjoy it. Yes, it makes us feel important. When our bodies, stamina, health, and other circumstances force us to move at a slower pace, it can be frustrating, upsetting, and discouraging. After all, there are so many responsibilities, so much to do, so much to accomplish.
However, we must take it easier. We are often forced to do so as our energy wanes. Then, it’s time to reverse direction—replace our current activities with others not as demanding or continue with our regular pursuits but to a lesser degree. There will be forces working against that. After all, if others depend on us, it is not to their advantage for us to do less.
You must take care of yourself. You must survive and thrive with a new lifestyle, a slower lifestyle. The best way to do so is to look ahead. Think about all that you can do rather than all that you can no longer do. Cut out unimportant things. It’s okay to step down from all the responsibility. Nothing will collapse. There are over seven billion people in the world, and there will be someone else to step in and carry on.
Tell friends and others that you can’t commit for sure and may have to cancel with little notice. Explain why so they won’t be upset or hurt such as: you don’t always sleep well, you don’t always feel well, things sometimes become overwhelming, etc. Delegate. Hire someone to do the heavy lifting: cleaning, shopping, bill paying, and other taxing chores. Buy prepared foods instead of doing all the cooking yourself. Get rid of your car and the stress of driving. Take a bus, metro, or subway. If they’re not convenient, take a taxi or a ride sharing service; the cost will probably end up being about the same as driving your own car when you consider the amount you spend on gas, insurance, and repairs.
You can do it the easy way or the hard way. You can lament what used to be and no longer is, or you can embrace what is and what you still have. Choose the latter. It’s easier, healthier, and more fulfilling.
First World Problems (April 14, 2016)
I was complaining to my son about my washing machine conking out and needing to buy a new one. I bemoaned having to search for a replacement online, having to call different appliance stores to check their stock, having to stay home to get the delivery, and figuring out how to use it. He listened patiently and then put it all in perspective.
“Mom, this is a first world problem.”
That shut me up immediately. How petty and ungrateful we can become with the minor inconveniences in our otherwise privileged lives. We’re not being bombed like some people in the world. We’re not starving like some people in the world. We’re not being exposed to horrendous diseases, being mauled by animals, being beheaded or having a relative who is. You get the idea.
It’s easy to get caught up in the minutiae of our lives, stressing about having to buy a new washing machine and the like. I’m certainly guilty of it. But, it illustrates how any situation can be looked at in a different light. How lucky I am that I have the money, availability, and ease to buy a new washing machine. Not everyone does.
Yes, our problems are significant to us, but we must keep some perspective. Practice looking at problems from a different angle and see if their importance doesn’t diminish. Too many people complain too often about too many things. Stop complaining folks and make it work for you. If you go shopping for something and they are out of it, get something else and move on. If you’ve made plans with someone and they are late, stop grumbling and read a book or magazine until they arrive. When you can’t get what you want, choose something else at that moment. When things aren’t going like you had in mind, “go with the flow” as they say.
Complaining is easy. Dissatisfaction is rampant. Why can’t we take the opportunity to improve our swimming when the water gets choppy? There are so many positive, interesting things going on all around us constantly. Choose to get into that mind frame. It makes life gratifying and so much easier.
Beer and Diapers (March 30, 2016)
An article in the newspaper a few months ago mentioned that companies like Walmart track purchasing patterns. One thing they found was that beer and diapers are often purchased together. Yes, it brings a laugh. However, in analyzing it a bit further, it’s not so funny.
Having a baby is a significant stressor. Resorting to alcohol, drugs, over-eating, and worse on a regular and maybe excessive basis to handle that tension can be counterproductive and dangerous. Substance abuse to cope with stress doesn’t just happen to new parents, it occurs across the spectrum of age, sex, race, and every other classification. We are bombarded with it all the time. Sometimes it’s externally driven and sometimes internally. However, it creates anxiety, nervousness, and a search for a solution, too often in the form of ever-encroaching, addictive behaviors.
We can’t eliminate all pressure from our lives. But, we can try to lower it. Look carefully at what causes you stress. Are you babysitting too often and too long for grandchildren who wear you out? Do you have too many activities and obligations scheduled and just yearn for some relaxation time? Do you (fill in the blank)? Learn to assess your personality and abilities. Admit if you can no longer keep up the pace you did when you were younger. Maybe things that didn’t used to bother you do now.
Practice prioritizing. Learn to tell others “no.” Learn to tell yourself the same. When life becomes overwhelming and you find yourself sinking into substance abuse or other self-destructive behaviors just to function, find another, less harmful “drug of choice”—an alternative, more beneficial means of managing it.
Exercise is one example. Join a gym, attend it, and work out on a regular basis. Take long, brisk walks. Climb stairs whenever possible. Writing is another way to deal with stress. We used to write in our diaries; today it’s called journaling. It’s therapeutic and calming. Use the old-fashioned, paper and pen method or do it on your computer.
Think of other non-self-destructive means of attacking the aggrevators that life throws at you. Be your own advocate. Handle life rather than the other way around.
The Art of Senescence (March 16, 2016)
While reading an article in a scientific journal, I came upon this word which I knew but had forgotten: senescence. It simply means aging. Senescence happens to all living things; it is a normal trajectory of nature.
Many things that are alive practice senescence artfully. For example: as trees age, they become more beautiful, majestic, and regal. Applying this to humans, some people are able to recast the act of aging into an art form. Unfortunately, so many aren’t. They bemoan the inevitable rather than accepting and growing into it.
I recently saw a movie, “The Lady in the Van,” starring the wonderful actress, Maggie Smith, as an elderly woman who, although successful when younger, had fallen upon hard times and was living in her van. The actress portrayed her character with authenticity, joy and dignity just as she did with the polar opposite character she portrayed, an English dowager noblewoman, in the television series, “Downton Abbey.” The most important take away from this observation is Maggie Smith, the person. She has aged naturally, embracing her wrinkles, sagging neck, and faltering voice. They are her trademark, and she wields them with skill. She has discovered the art of senescence.
Another example of such a person is Iris Apfel, the 97-year-old fashion icon (born in 1921). A documentary about her, “Iris,” was released in 2015. As is evident from the movie, Iris Apfel does not hide herself from public exposure because her youthful looks and stature have eroded. She is proud of her accomplishments as a designer and as a businesswoman. She has created an image of an elderly person who is positive, sharp, and respected.
Rather than fighting growing older with one elective surgical or dermatological procedure after another, both of these women have used their own aging process to their advantage. They are the human equivalent of the senescent, awe-inspiring Morton Bay Fig tree I’m standing next to in the photograph. That tree and these women challenge the rest of us to follow in their footsteps and not fear and fight aging but to investigate it, embrace it, and make it work for us.
Let Your Children Teach You (March 2, 2016)
I often get advice from my son who is an adult with children of his own. He’s bright, and I learn from him. He enjoys counseling me, and I enjoy our interaction.
No matter how old your children get to be, it’s hard for a parent to switch from the teaching mode into the learning mode. I’ve heard parents say to their adult children something along the lines of “Don’t tell me; I’m your father (or mother).” What does that have to do with hearing sound advice?
I suspect that what’s really going on is a power struggle. The parent doesn’t want to admit that their child may surpass them in any way. It’s also a sign of aging which so many distain–passing the baton when a child is old enough to be the adviser to a parent. But the flip side is that it allows the aging parent to have an adult-to-adult relationship with their child. This scenario can be extrapolated to any relationship between an aging person and a much younger person whether it be an aunt/uncle relationship with a niece/nephew, a boss-employee relationship regardless of which person is in which role, and so many others.
What a wonderful gift to receive at this stage of life. Embrace it! Be grateful for it! Don’t push it away just because your ego becomes a little bruised or you don’t want to give up being the pack leader.
It’s also a wonderful gift to your child. It lets him/her know that you admire them and have confidence in them when you listen to and/or accept their counsel. What an empowering experience for a child to know how much they’ve succeeded in their parent’s eyes. What a boost to their self-confidence. That’s probably one of the things they crave the most.
Remember to thank them. Remember to verbalize how proud of them you are. Too many parents forget to do so. Be aware of the gift you are giving each other. Not all parents get such a reward in the later stage of their lives.
Impatience (February 18, 2016)
Do you “fly off the handle” on a regular basis? Do you know others who do? As I get older, I find myself becoming more and more impatient. I get antsy when I have to wait for service; I feel irritated with inane chatter; I’m uptight when anything takes too long. It’s hard to remain patient when others are inefficient, screw up, or are lackadaisical.
I’ve never been particularly patient, but I’m getting worse. Does that happen to others, or am I the only one? My gut as well as stories I’ve heard and personal observations suggest that it’s common in the boomer and senior demographics.
What does impatience do for the practitioner? Does it really make the inciting situation any better? What is the downside of such behavior? When I do it, it just causes me to be more upset for a longer period of time. When I am the recipient of it, I become angry and feel like defending myself or engaging in payback. Impatience is a destructive emotion to the sender and to the receiver.
Certainly, one cause of impatience has to do with aging. Another contributing factor, though, may be living in a technological world. We have become used to immediate gratification in so many areas that did not exist in previous times. We can grab our smart phones and find out within seconds the answer to almost anything that used to require consulting an expert or making a physical trip to the library. We can communicate instantly by email what used to require a letter or a phone call with its concomitant telephone tag games and actual conversation starting with time-wasting niceties.
Living in a town or city of thousands or millions, however, still requires patience. None of us can get immediate gratification on everything. We still have to wait our turn in the queue. So, what do we do when we become impatient?
As many do, we can whip out our technology to entertain us, burying our heads in virtual reality. But, here’s another, old fashion idea: we can actually look around and enjoy our environment. We might watch a child play as we wait in line at the bank; feel the rain, the sun, the wind as it touches our skin while walking from the parking lot to our doctor’s appointment; observe the passersby and notice what they look like, what they are wearing, how they behave; listen to conversation while we wait for service at a retail establishment; and on and on.
There’s a free floor show out there, folks. From time to time, don’t forget to check out the non-virtual world, also known as the real world. You may find it far more fascinating, enlightening, and instructive than staring at little rectangular devices. And the upside is that it helps you to be more patient which is so much better than the opposite.
The Power of Touch (February 4, 2016)
Touch is one of our five major senses. We usually don’t think about it because the senses of sight and hearing seem so much more important. They are, of course, but don’t underestimate the power of touch. It allows us to experience temperatures, textures, pressure, and other tactile sensations.
Touch also helps make human connection. When communicating with another, we often include touching: patting someone on the hand, poking them in the chest, or clapping them on the back. We use such expressions as: touch a nerve, touch base, and touchy to describe feelings and behaviors.
It feels good to be touched and to touch another. We do it in intimate contact as well as social communication. We shake hands to connect more closely upon greeting each other. We link arms when walking which both helps us steady ourselves and feel closer to our companion. We may tap a listener on the hand or arm to emphasize a point which not only commands attention but also conveys a closer feeling between the two parties.
We derive comfort from touch. Parents touch their children as much as possible, or should, conveying to them a feeling of protection and love. Animals touch each other in herds, packs, pods, and all the other collectives, conveying a sense of belonging to a group. I saw a lovely video a while ago showing the first steps of different baby animals including the human kind. I remember the long black tongue of the giraffe mother licking her newborn to encourage it to try standing up. Other mothers of various breeds did the same or similar, sometimes nuzzling their young. None stood back while their offspring struggled alone. Touching them was urgent to aid in their progress.
We as self-contained, I’m-just-for-myself human beings can connect to one another using touch when other means are not within our comfort zone. For example, clapping someone on the shoulder encourages them. Holding hands enables bonding.
Another form of feel-good touching is hugging. There’s a camaraderie to that gesture. Hugging friends or even acquaintances in a non-threatening but heartfelt way conveys a warmth, an acceptance. Hugging upon the initial encounter as well as the termination sends a message: “I’m happy to see you,” or “It’s been so nice being with you.”
Check out the wonderful, online video of a man in a well-trafficked, London square holding up a sign saying, FREE HUGS. People regarded him strangely at first, but soon someone took him up on his offer. Within a short time, a crowd gathered, and he had a lot of takers. Everyone seemed to be positive, upbeat, and enjoying the experience.
Some people have grown up in situations where touch was very limited, or touch feels offensive to them. If that describes you, practice slowly to bring touch into your life. Start with just one quick tap with your fingertip on another person’s hand or knee during a conversation. Take baby steps to increase your touch contact with others.
Don’t forget the importance of touch. Incorporate it into your life. It’s a win-win for both the touchor and the touchee. Start touching people in a non-threatening yet warm, caring manner. It’s a benefit for each party to the transaction.
Take Time for Those Less Fortunate (January 24, 2016)
Most of us are normal physically and mentally. Most of us are so much more adept than the disabled, disfigured, handicapped, or less competent in our society. Can we stop our busy lives for a moment or two to connect with another, less fortunate human being? Can we take an instant to be kind to those in that group? Can we be grateful that we can share of ourselves?
Yes, we can. Yes, we must. Probably, most of us have been touched by someone in our lives who was born disabled or became so through illness, disease, or an accident. I have, and it has made me humble, made me so much better than the self-absorbed teenager I once was.
Do you ever wonder how you escaped that fate and it befell another? We have an obligation to be kind and gentle to such people. A variation of a famous expression attributed to sixteenth century preacher, John Bradford, is: “There but for the grace of God go I.”
If you encounter a disabled person when you’re out and about, approach them and make a point of saying “hello.” Compliment them on something, anything: “That’s a nice shirt you’re wearing,” “That color looks so attractive on you,” “I like your smile,” “It’s nice to meet you.” Touch them: shake their hand; pat them on the arm or shoulder. That could make their day. It could also make yours.
Maybe when your turn comes to be less able than you are now, and it will come, someone will take a moment to engage you. How wonderful that will feel. After all, inside, you’re still that nice, creative, competent person you once were, or at least you feel that way.
I have a dear friend who has severe Parkinson’s disease. I remember how feisty she used to be. I remember our days of riding our bicycles along the bike path at Santa Monica beach. Now, I visit her from time to time at her assisted living home. I call her as often as possible to chat for a moment. The conversation is short, simple, and not world shaking. However, it brightens both our days.
Stop your very important business to connect with someone who will appreciate it so much. Make time to give of yourself. It will reap benefits to you.
Rekindling Toxic Relationships (January 13, 2016)
Have you ever had a friendship or relationship end because it was too toxic, often anxiety provoking, or the cons greatly outweighed the pros--you know the drill? It has probably happened to all of us. It might involve a relative, a friend, a spouse, a significant other, a parent, a child, etc. When you look back, you realize that you’re better off out of that relationship. Some time may pass, years even, and without him or her in your life, you become aware that you’ve grown–you’re healthier.
But, when life gets boring or you feel lonely, you may think about reaching out to that person. After all, there was something about the relationship that was magnetic, that brought experiences or qualities into your life that you craved. Conversely, one day the other party might reach out to you, trying to rekindle the relationship? They, too, probably miss what they gained from their involvement with you.
Perhaps you’ll get a phone message, a Facebook friend request, a letter, or some other means of communication. Maybe you’ll have mixed feelings, remembering the good times as well as the painful ones. If it happens when you’re in a vulnerable place in your life, however, you might start focusing on how nice it would feel to bask in the warmth of those sunny days again. The temptation is great to click that “accept” button on the friend request. After all, what harm can a little social media communication do?
Before you jump back in, take a breath or two or ten or a thousand. Assess why the relationship fell apart in the first place. Remember how the bad times began to dominate. Do you really think the other individual has changed enough to no longer behave as they once did? Have you changed enough to no longer let it bother you? What benefit is it to you to resurrect the relationship? Might it soon devolve into the toxicity that characterized it the last time? There are all kinds of expressions describing this scenario including, “let sleeping dogs lie.”
The most important thing is for you to remain healthy. The pain following the termination of a close relationship lasts quite a while and regurgitates regularly as experiences spark memories. If you have finally reached a point of well-being, why would you want to put yourself back in that stressful position?
“Well, people can change,” you might say. Yes, that’s true. However, there is a limit to how much anyone can change. Consider if that particular person could have changed enough to become a positive rather than a negative influence in your life? Think about how many people you know or know about who keep reconciling only to split up again and again. Be careful before you grab at hopes and wishes which are not now and never were reality.
Be Careful What You Wish for (December 30, 2015)
Yes, ‘tis the season for wishes. We wished for presents on Christmas, Hanukkah, and at other sacred and secular ways of celebrating this holiday time. Perhaps you blew out candles at your birthday and made a wish as I did. New Year is approaching, and we’re now making New Year’s resolutions which are also wishes: I want to lose ten pounds, start writing that novel, get a new car, hairdo, nose... Often, attaining that wish or desire only makes us want something else. When are we ever satisfied? When are we okay with what we already have–with what we already are?
There is nothing wrong with setting goals and working toward them. The problem comes when you are never fulfilled, always striving for the next thing–the not yet attained. The basis of those seemingly unattainable aspirations is not being okay with yourself.
A while ago, I was complaining to a friend about who knows what, and she responded, “Be careful what you wish for.” I’ve thought about that many times. Yes, you might get that coveted thing you yearn for or envy in others: an object, attention, recognition, fame, money, power, etc. However, follow its logical progression. What also comes with that gain? There might be responsibilities, expectations, requirements, additional baggage, and other unwanted consequences.
People with lots of toys must maintain them, warehouse them, upgrade them--all time and cost consuming. People with a plethora of attention often burn out and yearn for privacy and a spare moment to themselves. People with a high status are objects of constant expectations by others: attend our affair, donate to our cause, do this, do that. People with great wealth must expend tremendous effort handling and manipulating it; maintaining vigilance so others don't siphon it off; and keeping current with new changes and advances to be sure their money does not dribble away unknowingly, lost in a technology void somewhere.
If you’re dissatisfied with your current life, envy another, or pine for something else, think about what goes along with it. Or, perhaps you have thoughts such as, When can I get off this speeding highway and just rest? If so, consider how important it really is to keep up with the proverbial Joneses or the currently trendy Kardashians? Are you really inferior or deprived if you don’t? Who decides this? How about if it’s you?
Renovations (December 15, 2015)
Our lives are filled with good times and bad times, ups and downs, positives and negatives. Way too often, we focus on the negatives and forget that we ever had any positives.
Some years ago, my high school graduating class had its fiftieth anniversary reunion. I wasn’t going to miss that! Five decades after graduating high school, I was a completely different person. No longer the withdrawn, scared, worried-about-what-everyone-is-thinking-of-me teenager I had been, I was confident and comfortable with myself. I wanted to attend the event to expose myself to peers who had intimidated me so long ago—to test myself. I wanted to see how others had turned out and whether they had been as frightened and bewildered as I had at that vulnerable age.
What happened unexpectedly was that I connected with fellow students I had not been friends with back then and reconnected with some I had. In this late stage of our lives, we have formed adult friendships—senior friendships, as though fifty years had not even passed.
We get together periodically, share old times, and laugh about current times. Here I am at Clifton’s cafeteria, an old standard in downtown Los Angeles where so many of us had eaten as children and teenagers. It had been closed for renovations for some years and recently reopened. Of course, a few of my high school classmates and I had to check it out. We each shared our remembrances of the old Clifton’s and marveled at how the renovations have been true to the original while adding modern, updated features.
Can we renovate ourselves? Can we add new, modern, updated features to our own mix while remaining true to the original? I’m not advocating a quick fix such as a vacation, elective surgery, a new house, a new car, a new whatever. I’m suggesting behavior changes, confidence building changes, connecting and reconnecting changes.
Think about the good times in your life. Think about the positive things that have happened to you. See if you can reconnect with them and bask in them. Save them and build on them to enhance yourself. Be the same but even better. Too hard, you say? I say, all you have to do is want it, and then let yourself do it.
Trees Afire (December 7, 2015)
Oranges and reds, pale greens, golds, pinks, and yellows. These are the shades of nature in November in the beautiful retirement community where I have been staying. They are the trees changing their colors in the fall season. Not natives, not wild, but breathtaking, cultivated imports that calm the mind, distract the thoughts, share their peace.
Those magnificent, arboreal giants dressed in their autumn costumes stand in line like belles at a ball waiting to be claimed by the next partner on their dance cards. Their falling leaves float down like rainbow flakes, surrounding me gently as I walk, treading on the ones that have already made it to the ground.
It is my first experience living with this particular free gift of nature. I’m a Southern California girl, not used to such a display. Some of you have probably grown up with this magnificence. Even so, I can’t believe it ever gets old. As I drive down the streets, I’m constantly pulling over to snap another photograph. One is not enough; certainly ten is not enough. Snap, snap, snap as my cell phone battery runs lower and lower.
I’ve tried to visit such places in years past. However, I’ve never hit it dead on, always arriving when just a few branches show a bit of color or the trees are already bare.
I like it; I love it! I must have more of this in my life.
Here’s what I saw when I looked out of the window of my rented condo: a tree afire—a metaphor of what we must do for ourselves. There are many profound aphorisms and proverbs to that point. These days, they are bundled into a less dramatic term: self-motivation.
How do we do that; how do we motivate ourselves to press on, to keep going when we’re down, discouraged, or times are hard? Yes, it’s so difficult, but think of the alternative. That’s even harder. Pulling inward, ducking down–burying your head in the sand, your hands, the pillow, a bottle. No, don’t do that; be kind to yourself. Give yourself permission to move ahead, to try for what you’ve always wanted.
We’re so afraid to take that step. We’re frightened of the possibility of failure and even more frightened of the possibility of success. What would you say to your son, your daughter, your grandchildren, the kid next door? Why is it always for others but never for you? You deserve a shot just like everyone else.
The Power of Clothing (November 19, 2015)
“Clothes make the man.” It’s true; dressing in a specific manner affects how we feel. We wear different clothes for different occasions.
When we put on a pair of jeans, we’re of a casual, getting-ready-for-physical-work mindset. When we dress in formal wear, we get into the spirit of a party or special occasion. A bathing suit prepares us mentally to go swimming or to the beach. All of those articles, of course, can be worn for other things, but we’ve associated a particular behavior with each, and our thoughts go to that place. Some people have their favorite jacket, gloves, hat, or some such item to relax them, stimulate them, get them ready for some specific undertaking.
Buddhist monks wear soft-colored, lightweight, non-binding garb–so much easier for prayer and deep contemplation. Business people arrive at work in suits and ties to present a certain persona. Many jobs require employees to wear uniforms often with accompanying badges or insignias to establish expectations on the part of both the wearer and the observer. When I come home from a taxing day with no plans to go out again, I usually change into my old, comfy robe and slippers. Instant calm and tranquility!
Children know all about this. I love to watch my young granddaughters playing dress-up as they dive into a basket of well-worn, “fancy” clothes which they use to concoct outfits for themselves. Princess and fairy are the favorites this week. They are transformed into the role, staying in character while wearing their costumes.
Clothing tells a story. It conveys profession, attitude, pursuit, leaning, wealth, poverty, and on and on. People are judged by their clothing. It is often the first thing noticed by others.
Manufacturers and the advertising industry are very aware of the power of clothing, and it has made them rich. For example, as each new sport catches on, clothing companies create a line of wear which they tout as essential for that activity. Remember when you could just climb on a bicycle and ride off? My preferred dress to cruise down the bike path at Santa Monica Beach as a teenager was a tee-shirt and jeans with a cord tied around each ankle to keep the bottoms from getting caught in the bicycle chain. Now, the sporting goods stores sell form-fitting Spandex pants, matching shirts, bicycle helmets, special gloves, and more. First, you have to buy the bicycle for hundreds of dollars. Next, you have to fork out hundreds more just to get on the thing.
It’s unsure whether special clothing for the task at hand justifies the cost or whether it’s just an image we’ve succumbed to perpetrated by Madison Avenue types. The point, however, is that clothing does put us in a particular mental mode and affects how we feel about ourselves as we perform the designated behavior. That’s not necessarily good or bad. It’s just something to be aware of.
Help yourself reach a desired state of mind. Wear clothing that assists you in getting there.
People Whisperer (November 3, 2015)
Buck Brannaman was the model for the 1998 movie “The Horse Whisperer” starring Robert Redford. He was a man with a sensitive way who could “talk” to horses, calm them down, gentle them.
Can a horse be a People Whisperer? I think so, because I met one. We were a group from the Horse Enthusiast’s Club who took a behind-the-scenes tour at a local race track.
We saw the trainers trotting the young horses around the track, accompanying them astride an older, more experienced horse. We watched the horses being bathed, swaddled in blankets, and hooked to a huge, circular device called a hot walker reminiscent of old-fashioned, revolving clotheslines. This allowed them to walk slowly around in a circle to relax and cool down their muscles after a demanding workout on the track.
We then went into the stable area where some horses were in their individual stalls with their heads and necks poking out over the half doors. That’s where we met the “people whisperer,” a three-year-old, thoroughbred filly aptly named: She’s a Charmer, and she was. That sweet equine refused the horse treats offered to her, instead placing her head against the chest of any of us who approached her. When it was my turn, I was relaxed, calm, and in the moment as I cuddled with She’s a Charmer.
We were so enamored with our new, hoofed friend that we hatched a rescue scheme. We would each contribute a like amount of money and buy her, freeing her from her life as a racehorse and bringing her into our fold. Although soon abandoning our plan as completely unrealistic for an almost thousand pound, high maintenance animal, we have continued to think about her, talk about her, and check up on her. These endeavors alone perpetuate the contentment and good feelings she brought to each of us.
Horses are used as therapy animals for the disabled, children with emotional or behavioral problems, and veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder. There have been wonderful stories of bonding between autistic people and horses. Yes, their size might seem intimidating. However, just being in their presence is a privilege and can be soul-cleansing.
Try hanging around with horses. See if their magic works on you.
Moving Along (October 21, 2015)
It’s scary to try new things, especially when they are big things. Any major life change, even a positive one, creates anxiety. The more the change diverges from your usual routine, the more intimidating it is.
I’m on a new adventure right now. I’m trying out an active retirement community hundreds of miles from where I’ve lived since childhood. I’ve been here a few weeks, and I have another few months to go before I return to my comfort level back in my own home and neighborhood.
Everything about this experience is a challenge. Nothing comes automatically; nothing is routine. I have to concentrate on each thing I do, each place I go. I’m constantly confronted with big learning curves: how to find my way around this community, where to buy food, how to work the convection oven (thank you Google for a convection converter), and so much more–sigh.
Why am I doing this? I’ve thought to myself more than once.
The answer: because I want to live near my son and his wife and children (my adorable grandchildren); because if I’m ever going to do it, I must do it while I’m still healthy. I want to make this work if I possibly can. So, I stumble on, and each day it gets just a bit easier.
On the upside, I’m having experiences I’ve never had before. I’ve encountered wild turkeys wandering around the neighborhood. What a delight! Of course, I had to follow them as I whipped out my cell phone to take photo after photo. Where I live in the heart of a large, metropolitan city, I’ve never even seen a wild turkey. I’ve also seen deer here. As far as I’m concerned, one can never see enough deer.
What was so strange just a few weeks ago has become less so. I have attended a few club meetings, classes, and events which tap into things that interest me (acting, writing, horses, and more). I made a few acquaintances who have the potential of becoming friends. I bought a senior subway card. I have navigated my way around using the amazing GPS technology. There were and continue to be lots of getting lost moments, lots of screw ups–typical trial and error when everything is unfamiliar or unknown.
I can feel my progress; I’m moving forward. I’m beginning to enjoy where I am and seeing it as my possible future. I’m proud of myself for undertaking this journey. Just the doing of it gives me strength and the confidence that I can succeed.
Start thinking whether it’s time for you to make new plans for the rest of your life. Make decisions rather than avoiding them. Take action and move forward. It’s hard, but with persistence, it does become easier.
Getting Noticed (October 6, 2015)
We all want attention of some kind for all sorts of things in our lives: personal, social, business, and more. The competition to get noticed is vicious.
What are you willing to do to get noticed? Rachel Dolezal, an American author, passed herself off as being black even though she was born of white parents. A few years ago, a white, male poet, Michael Derrick Hudson, submitted a poem under an Asian, female pen name and got his work published after it had been rejected numerous times under his real name. There has been a lot of online chatter in writer’s groups as to whether what he did is ethical. In my opinion, these moves are probably not any less ethical than what George Eliot (over 150 years ago) or J.K. Rowling (of modern day “Harry Potter” fame) did to disguise their sex and maybe give the impression that they were male, thereby offering them a better chance to be noticed, so their thinking probably went.
People use a plethora of methods to get attention onto themselves: unusual dress, affecting an odd laugh, dying their hair, talking loudly or excessively, becoming a great dancer, intellectual and academic achievement, and on and on. There’s not necessarily anything right or wrong with any of these methods or hundreds of others you may think of. However, some might not be within your comfort zone or might bring about the opposite result by driving attention away instead of attracting it. The secret is to find the thing that is your particular style and accomplishes your purpose. How do you do that?
First you have to identify methods that work for you in your quest for that elusive attention you’re seeking. Gather ideas from reading magazines, newspapers, and books. Do research by going to the library, navigating the Internet or networking (asking friends, relatives, acquaintances, and even strangers for advice). Finally, observe what others do. Try out in small ways and in safe places those things that appeal to you. See how they feel. Discard the ones that don’t work. For those that do, ramp them up and try them out in more places—cut a broader swath.
If what you’re doing is not illegal and isn’t hurting anyone else or yourself, keep at it. If you find that you’re getting the payback you’re seeking, go for it!
Jargon (September 23, 2015)
“Manny-petty” was the word (or was it a phrase?) that the woman yelled out to me from the back of the crowded room after I walked into the nail salon. I thought she was speaking another language and for some reason assumed I was fluent in it, too.
“What,” I shouted back, not understanding what she was talking about?
“Manny-petty?” she repeated in her singsong manner.
I finally got it; she was saying: mani-pedi, salon-speak for manicure-pedicure. She had boiled our pending transaction down to its essence.
“No, just mani,” I responded, getting into the trendy shorthand; I’m a fast learner.
Each job, profession, avocation, pastime, pursuit or hobby has its own jargon. One must learn it to survive and thrive there.
I had been booked for a hand modeling job for jewelry. (Yes, even aging hands are sometimes needed for such gigs.) I had only had a professional manicure a few times in my life, the last being at least two decades ago. I didn’t even know where to go and had to call friends for referrals.
I’ve always manicured my own nails, never liking other people fussing with my body for cosmetic purposes. (I’m not crazy about doctors or dentists either, but that’s a whole other blog.) I don’t do well with massages, and even encounters with shoe salesmen are iffy.
Somehow, I feel that by being the one serviced, I’m being placed in a position of privilege being attended by underlings and putting the one delivering the service in a subservient position. I even cut and style my own hair–natural curls are very forgiving to answer your question.
A glance around the salon revealed a lot of clients with one hand on a small table being worked on by a manicurist while in too many cases the other hand held a cell phone jammed against its appropriate ear. Several of these princesses also had their feet on small stools with cotton crammed between their toes to hold them apart while another worker took care of the pedi part.
Help! Let me out of here. This is not my world.
My inquirer and all of her fellow manicurists were Asian, and I remembered reading that the industry has become dominated by immigrant Vietnamese women, at least in Los Angeles, California. With limited English skills and a need to support themselves and their families, they have found a niche. With niches comes jargon. In this case, their opening line is: mani-pedi, thereby avoiding a long, taxing discussion in English which might be a challenge.
I soon overcame my aversion to the experience as I watched the manicurists working efficiently while laughing and chatting with each other in their native tongue. I don’t know if they felt demeaned being in a position of cosmetically servicing the digits of others. However, while I was there, they seemed calm, pleasant, dedicated to their task, and proud of their work.
Can we learn to be like that, even when we are tasked with work duties we don’t like or that others consider undesirable or demeaning? Yes, we can. Use jargon to help you do it. A stewardess has become a flight attendant, no longer an airborne, female server of food, drinks, and pillows, but now a position for both genders and a part of an integrated flight team. Garbage collectors have become sanitary engineers–same job, different mindset. Try a change of jargon to elevate and enhance yourself.
Meandering (September 8, 2015)
What a wonderful word: meandering. It evokes thoughts such as: lazy times, no pressure, free flowing.
I was on vacation last month at a dude ranch in Wyoming. I spent a lot of time atop my black steed, Prince, a gentle giant who had been matched to my riding ability. As our little group headed by our guide was meandering through an Aspen grove, the Grand Tetons mountain range was our backdrop. That package really pulled my attention away from the usual stuff crowding my brain.
We all need to meander occasionally, some more, some less. We use other terms to describe it: downtime, chilling out, having your own space, etc. You don’t have to travel to another country, to another state, or even to another city to meander. You don’t even have to do it on horseback. You can meander anywhere, even at home and in many different ways. Meandering can happen while reading a good book, making a new recipe, strolling through a store, anything that diverts the mind from the usual stuff.
Sometimes, when I am overwhelmed by the demands of life, I take what I like to call a “mental vacation.” I cancel my appointments, put on hold any serious decision making, and clear my life of everything that causes pressure. Just a day or two usually does it for me. Even a few hours of mental meandering can be significant.
Conversely, too much unstructured behavior can be destructive. We can find ourselves drifting, without purpose, unstimulated. We must seek that balance so we don’t work ourselves to misery, but we also don’t lead purposeless lives.
It takes discipline to put aside everything jockeying for your attention and get into meandering mode, but it’s worth it. Find stimulating, meaningful, fulfilling work and activities with just enough meandering time to regenerate.
It's the Right Thing to Do (August 25, 2015)
Why am I making an effort to conserve water when it’s being wasted, squandered or stolen by others? Why am I still seeing so many very green lawns around my neighborhood in Los Angeles, California?
Within a one week period while driving, I came upon two broken water pipes, this one in Beverly Hills and one in Sherman Oaks. The precious water was rushing down the street into gutters.
There was a news item a few months ago about someone filling up a water tank truck from a municipal water faucet and driving it to a property outside of that municipality. I was so incensed that I wrote a letter to the Los Angeles Times newspaper, which they printed on 7-12-15 in the Opinion section. Here is my letter:
Oh Magnum, How Could You?
All by yourself with just a few bad acts, you may have added a new verb to our lexicon: to selleck. To anyone else thinking of “sellecking,” don’t you dare steal my water in this drought. It’s bad enough that old pipes are breaking and flooding streets with the precious water I have been trying so hard to conserve, one toilet flush at a time.
The answer to my question at the beginning of this post is: because, for me, it’s the right thing to do. Don’t let your actions be dictated by the behavior of others. When you feel something is wrong, don’t opt for that choice just because someone else does.
Live your life on the moral path that’s right for you. Don’t live it always trying to get away with something, trying to screw the next guy before he screws you, always worrying about being caught. You will feel better about yourself and glide more smoothly as you go. Play nice on the playground even when others don’t.
Fortune Cookie Says (August 7, 2015)
My friends and I had just finished dinner at a local Asian restaurant. We moved to the obligatory next step and opened our fortune cookies.
“Here, Lee Gale, write a blog about this,” suggested Sheila as she handed me her fortune.
The thin slip of paper said: “Develop an appreciation for the present moment.” I put it in my wallet and forgot about it. A few weeks later, I noticed it hiding between a one-dollar and five-dollar bill.
What shall I write, what shall I write? I pondered.
Some days later, I had parked my car in the underground parking lot of my neighborhood corner shopping center and was running for the elevator. I squeezed in just as the doors were starting to close thinking, Whew, I made it. These stupid elevators take so long to come.
I turned around to face front as all good elevator riders are taught as children when I noticed an obese, crippled woman walking toward us. Without even thinking about it, my arm shot up between the doors and broke their pending contact, almost breaking my arm in the process. I forced the doors open and said, “Don’t rush. We’ll wait for you.” Of course, I hadn’t polled the other passengers, but I noticed one looking at me, smiling, and nodding. The lesson was that the present moment had presented me with an opportunity to do something nice for someone else and to feel good about myself–no, proud of myself.
The woman stepped into the elevator and thanked me. Maybe she’s used to people helping her out. She’s also probably used to people ignoring her or even berating her for delaying them as they go about their busy and important agendas.
We exchanged a few idle, ice-breaker words as the elevator took off. When it arrived at her floor, she thanked me again as she exited. It should have been me who thanked her. I am sure I walked a few inches taller until bedtime.
Get some of those good feelings for yourself. It’s easy; just be kind to others. Your acts might even splash onto bystanders, too, and remind them to slow down and appreciate the present moment.
Dare to Be Colorful! (July 26, 2015)
Some know how to swath themselves in color; some don’t. Have you ever noticed people who dress only in neutral or drab colors: blacks, whites, grays, beiges, browns, pale blues? Or, maybe you dress that way.
I’ve always wondered if those people feel they don’t deserve to shine. Maybe they don’t want to attract attention to themselves. Their color palettes often match their personalities.
In physics, color is a function of a specific wavelength of visible light. Black and white are not considered colors since they do not have specific wavelengths. White is made up of all wavelengths of visible light, and black is the absence of visible light.
We use the word color to denote a certain lightheartedness such as colorful jokes which are risqué, daring, and fun. We describe something as being off-color if it is somewhat offensive. I've heard it said that color makes a statement, whereas lack of color only makes a suggestion.
There is a medical condition occurring mostly in the winter called seasonal affective disorder (SAD) where low light causes depression in those who suffer from it. One of the treatments is exposure to light boxes, which are small walls of light.
Color and light are uplifting, perky, jazzy, exciting. Color can be visual, auditory, emotional, and more. Some people dream in color.
A neurological phenomenon called synesthesia is where stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway creates automatic, involuntary experiences in a second such pathway. So, synesthetes (people with this ability) may feel, hear, or taste color, and it may aid their creative process. Artists such as Franz Liszt, Vincent Van Gogh, and Leonard Bernstein were synesthetes.
If your comfort zone won't allow you to dress colorfully, at least bring color into your life in other ways: flowers (not just white ones), colorful paintings, tropical fish, etc. Dare to lighten up; dare to brighten up; dare to make a statement. Maybe color will aid your creative process or at least bring some cheer into your life, and one additional perk: it's free!
Participate in Stimulating Experiences (July 11, 2015)
There are many ways to bring joy, excitement, and satisfaction into your life. One thing I try to do is grab opportunities to be involved in stimulating experiences.
For ten years starting in 2005, I volunteered with a fireworks crew to set up the show on the golf course of the Big Canyon Country Club in Newport Beach, California. We built scaffolding to hold tubes for the fireworks charges. Then, we wired the tubes electrically and loaded the charges inside. An electric cord at the end of the center strip on top of the scaffolding was then plugged into a battery operated motherboard which was used to control the firing of the charges. That was a long explanation for something that might seem mundane or unimportant to some. To me and maybe a few of you, however, it was fascinating.
A few years ago, I worked the motherboard during the fireworks show. That was a real high! Think of the Wizard of Oz sitting at his control board in total charge of a display that captivated the enraptured attention of others.
The day of the fireworks shows, I leave my house at 8:00am and get home after 1:00am the following morning. It’s hard work all day for no pay. What is your reward? you might ask. Answer: a good physical workout, stimulation in areas that excite me, a fun day at a gorgeous location, camaraderie with the other crew members, chow on hand the entire day, a fantastic seat for the fireworks show, and a satisfying sense of accomplishment.
Repayment doesn't always have to be monetary. Sometimes, it's worth doing a thing just for the pleasure of doing it. Find those kinds of opportunities for yourself. Live your life for the sheer joy of it.
Battling the Inevitability of Aging (June 26, 2015)
“Nothing is certain but death and taxes.” We’ve all heard that quotation or a variation of it. Usually, the path to that certainty of death is aging. So, how do we deal with it?
Like most things in life, we have choices. We can rail against aging, try to defeat it, or accept it. No matter which method we chose, however, we can’t avoid it.
Today, with so many tricks of medicine and technology at our disposal, people try to pretend that they are not aging. There is makeup to allow us to hide blemishes, enhance dull features, or just sparkle; hair dye to avoid revealing that telltale gray; hair implants to reverse balding; plastic surgery to do away with sagging skin; contact lenses to make the correction of poor sight invisible; hearing aids of various kinds including implants--the most invisible; clothing to make us look like teenyboppers; and shoes with too-high heels pathetically worn by women with foot problems and fragile bones teetering to keep their balance. The list goes on and on. For years, I missed much of what was being said because I refused to consider even exploring hearing aids; the idea made me feel old.
Many turn themselves into caricatures: the fake looking face which is now so common it’s almost a norm; the old guy with the too-young girlfriend, another almost norm; or the baby boomer with the too tight pants and tee shirt. So, do we keep chasing after that elusive youth, do we just throw up our hands and let whatever happens happen, do we choose some middle path? Each person must make that decision for him/herself, of course.
Let’s consider one additional factor: happiness. Are we happy with ever escalating procedures, devices, and fashions? Some will insist they are. However, under that facade still lurks failing hips and knees, pain from arthritis, waning strength and vigor, and all the rest.
Is there a way to age gracefully and be okay with who you are? Some thoughts are: we can strive to be as healthy and fit as possible; we can dress nicely but age-appropriately; we can accept that we need glasses or hearing aids to enhance the quality of life--or a cane, or a walker, or whatever.
Let’s at least try to avoid health endangering procedures such as invasive elective surgery done only to chase that hyped youth. There was a case a few years ago of the mother of a famous entertainer being rejected for cosmetic surgery by various doctors due to an existing health condition until she finally found a willing one. He did the surgery she so hungered for, and she died.
Must we put our lives or health at risk only to pretend we’re something that we’re not? Let’s battle to be okay with who we are rather than battling against nature.
Memory, that Wily Beast (June 11, 2015)
From time to time, I host a guest blogger on a topic relevant to my blog. Today, Alan Levine, a former acting partner in one of my senior acting classes, has submitted a guest blog. Alan refers to me in the blog by various names, so here is an explanation of my name: Lee Gale Gruen. “Lee Gale” is my first name. “It’s too confusing,” I hear you complain. Well hey, if you can remember Beyoncé, you can remember Lee Gale. I never go by the first name “Lee,” although Alan uses it a few times in his blog. Alan also calls me LGG which comes from the initials of my entire name. Some people call me LG or Legal, both of which are okay with me.
Now, on to the guest blog:
Memories
by: Alan Levine
So there I was standing in front of a community theatre when I was tapped on the shoulder and greeted with “hello Alan, nice to see you here.” “Hello, I said back to a familiar face, I love this theatre.”
She excused herself and headed for the restroom prior to the curtain call. I continued into the theatre with my wife and friends. “I can’t believe it I said, I can’t remember her name.” “That’s Lee,” my wife said. Oh my I thought. Here’s someone with whom I had worked on stage in a workshop performance of “Fatal Attraction” just four years ago, and her name popped right out of my head.
I avoided further embarrassment by walking up and engaging in conversation. “Lee Gale” I said, “how nice to see you,” and then proceeded to have a conversation with her and her friends about theatre and remembering lines and how difficult it has become. She told me that she was about to audition for a show and only had to remember one line. Actually Lee smiled and said “it was only one word.” I kept thinking, what has happened to our memory. Why does it jump back and forth? Why is it we can remember chapter and verse of something we learned fifty years ago, but struggle to name the last movie we went to?
Oh I know, there have been hundreds of studies one can read about how the brain slowly loses its ability to absorb more information and the recall buttons begin to lose their ability to function. But that won’t happen to me I thought. With enough effort my brain will continue to function as it always has, and my ability to remember people, places and things will get me through life as it’s always done.
Ah, but who am I kidding? So like most of the readers of this column, I suspect that like you, my memory mechanisms are not as sharp as they once were and that I will have to resort to all the tricks I keep reading about. Try new things we’re told, play games, do crosswords and Sudoku puzzles and keep your mind active. Use tricks to help remember names, takes memory classes. After all since all the improvements in medical science are letting us live longer and stay productive, we should know what we are talking about, where we are and where we’ve been. And most importantly remember the people who have made an impact in our lives. Thank you LGG, at least I finally remembered to send you this piece.
Unstressing at the Airport, One Dog at a Time (May 28, 2015)
I love dogs of all stripes, colors and persuasions. Tell me off, and if you’re a human, I’ll be right back at ya. Tell me off, and if you’re a dog, I’ll beg for more.
Whenever I see a dog anywhere, I’m drawn involuntarily as if beckoned while in a trance, powerless to resist. Just to be able to look at them, pet them, hang out with them is a privilege and calms me immediately. So, imagine my surprise a few weeks ago when I was part of the craziness that is Los Angeles International Airport.
I was waiting to board an airplane for a flight to visit my family. I had already navigated parking, walking to the terminal, checking in, and making my way to the gate.
I found a place to sit in a crowded area and, with great difficulty, was trying to relax and read. I glanced up for a moment and saw a big, curly dog walking toward me followed by a few humans. Naturally, I sprung out of my seat to investigate.
I was greeted by Sofie, a Golden Doodle (Golden Retriever and Poodle mix) resplendent in a red cape, who was next to her owner. I was all over Sofie–calm, patient Sofie. Other passengers sidled up to make her acquaintance. Sofie nonchalantly tolerated her admirers— just another day’s work.
Heidi Huebner, who was part of Sofie’s entourage, explained that the PUP (Pets Unstressing Passengers) Program at LAX has been operating since April, 2013. For years, dogs have been used elsewhere in such duty providing stress relief and comfort to people at hospitals, homes for seniors, schools, and other similar facilities. (I used to be a pet therapy team with my dog at a local hospital.) Now, dogs are doing it at airports, those high stress generators.
The dog/owner volunteer teams are trained and then registered with Therapy Dogs, Inc. Heidi added that similar programs are now operating at 26 airports throughout the nation. To volunteer at the PUP Program and other VIP (Volunteer Information Professionals) Programs at Los Angeles International Airport, visit their website at: www.lawa.org/vip.
Now, I’m just wondering where the human Sofies are trained and registered? I need a few of those in my life.
Irritants Can Be Advantages (May 16, 2015)
Last week I was sitting at my computer, busy, busy, busy. I went to grab for my pencil, missed, and knocked it off the computer desk.Oh, I don’t need this now! I muttered to myself.
I bent over and groped for it on the floor. No luck. After a few choice expletives, I activated the flashlight on my cell phone (a nice feature BTW) and bent over even further, shining the light around.
I finally spotted the blasted pencil. Of course, it had rolled completely under my desk to the far end, tightly jammed up against the wall molding behind the computer cord, like a kitten hiding under the bed. I had to bend over to the point where my head was at the same level as my feet and reach to my arm’s length to grab it. As I was doing so, I realized how good it felt to stretch my spine. My errant pencil had offered me a little free exercise.
Why can’t we extrapolate those kinds of experiences to larger ones in our lives? How many times are we inconvenienced by unforeseen circumstances which annoy, irritate, or anger us? We’re less able to tolerate them when we’re on a deadline, tired, running late to an appointment, and on and on. That’s when each of our own versions of “expletives deleted” kicks in.
Some opt for the “F” word, the “S” word, the “D” word, or the “H” word, and that's just in English. Others downplay it such as what a childhood friend’s father used to say: “Oh, feathers and moose meat!” I always liked that. I wish I had found out the origin, but I was just a kid and not so fascinated by words and phrases as I am now. Anyway, that was just as powerful for him as the current popularity of the “alphabet” words.
There’s that old expression, “When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade.” Well, that’s not just for the big, oppressive stuff of life. It can also be for the little things, too.
When something interferes with your plans for a minute, an hour, or a day, see if you can turn it into an advantage or opportunity. Don’t let the small irritants you encounter take a few more seconds off your life span. Those seconds are valuable and finite. Save them for the rewarding things. If you must, throw that pencil on the floor deliberately to open new possibilitie
We all want attention of some kind for all sorts of things in our lives: personal, social, business, and more. The competition to get noticed is vicious.
What are you willing to do to get noticed? Rachel Dolezal, an American author, passed herself off as being black even though she was born of white parents. A few years ago, a white, male poet, Michael Derrick Hudson, submitted a poem under an Asian, female pen name and got his work published after it had been rejected numerous times under his real name. There has been a lot of online chatter in writer’s groups as to whether what he did is ethical. In my opinion, these moves are probably not any less ethical than what George Eliot (over 150 years ago) or J.K. Rowling (of modern day “Harry Potter” fame) did to disguise their sex and maybe give the impression that they were male, thereby offering them a better chance to be noticed, so their thinking probably went.
People use a plethora of methods to get attention onto themselves: unusual dress, affecting an odd laugh, dying their hair, talking loudly or excessively, becoming a great dancer, intellectual and academic achievement, and on and on. There’s not necessarily anything right or wrong with any of these methods or hundreds of others you may think of. However, some might not be within your comfort zone or might bring about the opposite result by driving attention away instead of attracting it. The secret is to find the thing that is your particular style and accomplishes your purpose. How do you do that?
First you have to identify methods that work for you in your quest for that elusive attention you’re seeking. Gather ideas from reading magazines, newspapers, and books. Do research by going to the library, navigating the Internet or networking (asking friends, relatives, acquaintances, and even strangers for advice). Finally, observe what others do. Try out in small ways and in safe places those things that appeal to you. See how they feel. Discard the ones that don’t work. For those that do, ramp them up and try them out in more places—cut a broader swath.
If what you’re doing is not illegal and isn’t hurting anyone else or yourself, keep at it. If you find that you’re getting the payback you’re seeking, go for it!
Jargon (September 23, 2015)
“Manny-petty” was the word (or was it a phrase?) that the woman yelled out to me from the back of the crowded room after I walked into the nail salon. I thought she was speaking another language and for some reason assumed I was fluent in it, too.
“What,” I shouted back, not understanding what she was talking about?
“Manny-petty?” she repeated in her singsong manner.
I finally got it; she was saying: mani-pedi, salon-speak for manicure-pedicure. She had boiled our pending transaction down to its essence.
“No, just mani,” I responded, getting into the trendy shorthand; I’m a fast learner.
Each job, profession, avocation, pastime, pursuit or hobby has its own jargon. One must learn it to survive and thrive there.
I had been booked for a hand modeling job for jewelry. (Yes, even aging hands are sometimes needed for such gigs.) I had only had a professional manicure a few times in my life, the last being at least two decades ago. I didn’t even know where to go and had to call friends for referrals.
I’ve always manicured my own nails, never liking other people fussing with my body for cosmetic purposes. (I’m not crazy about doctors or dentists either, but that’s a whole other blog.) I don’t do well with massages, and even encounters with shoe salesmen are iffy.
Somehow, I feel that by being the one serviced, I’m being placed in a position of privilege being attended by underlings and putting the one delivering the service in a subservient position. I even cut and style my own hair–natural curls are very forgiving to answer your question.
A glance around the salon revealed a lot of clients with one hand on a small table being worked on by a manicurist while in too many cases the other hand held a cell phone jammed against its appropriate ear. Several of these princesses also had their feet on small stools with cotton crammed between their toes to hold them apart while another worker took care of the pedi part.
Help! Let me out of here. This is not my world.
My inquirer and all of her fellow manicurists were Asian, and I remembered reading that the industry has become dominated by immigrant Vietnamese women, at least in Los Angeles, California. With limited English skills and a need to support themselves and their families, they have found a niche. With niches comes jargon. In this case, their opening line is: mani-pedi, thereby avoiding a long, taxing discussion in English which might be a challenge.
I soon overcame my aversion to the experience as I watched the manicurists working efficiently while laughing and chatting with each other in their native tongue. I don’t know if they felt demeaned being in a position of cosmetically servicing the digits of others. However, while I was there, they seemed calm, pleasant, dedicated to their task, and proud of their work.
Can we learn to be like that, even when we are tasked with work duties we don’t like or that others consider undesirable or demeaning? Yes, we can. Use jargon to help you do it. A stewardess has become a flight attendant, no longer an airborne, female server of food, drinks, and pillows, but now a position for both genders and a part of an integrated flight team. Garbage collectors have become sanitary engineers–same job, different mindset. Try a change of jargon to elevate and enhance yourself.
Meandering (September 8, 2015)
What a wonderful word: meandering. It evokes thoughts such as: lazy times, no pressure, free flowing.
I was on vacation last month at a dude ranch in Wyoming. I spent a lot of time atop my black steed, Prince, a gentle giant who had been matched to my riding ability. As our little group headed by our guide was meandering through an Aspen grove, the Grand Tetons mountain range was our backdrop. That package really pulled my attention away from the usual stuff crowding my brain.
We all need to meander occasionally, some more, some less. We use other terms to describe it: downtime, chilling out, having your own space, etc. You don’t have to travel to another country, to another state, or even to another city to meander. You don’t even have to do it on horseback. You can meander anywhere, even at home and in many different ways. Meandering can happen while reading a good book, making a new recipe, strolling through a store, anything that diverts the mind from the usual stuff.
Sometimes, when I am overwhelmed by the demands of life, I take what I like to call a “mental vacation.” I cancel my appointments, put on hold any serious decision making, and clear my life of everything that causes pressure. Just a day or two usually does it for me. Even a few hours of mental meandering can be significant.
Conversely, too much unstructured behavior can be destructive. We can find ourselves drifting, without purpose, unstimulated. We must seek that balance so we don’t work ourselves to misery, but we also don’t lead purposeless lives.
It takes discipline to put aside everything jockeying for your attention and get into meandering mode, but it’s worth it. Find stimulating, meaningful, fulfilling work and activities with just enough meandering time to regenerate.
It's the Right Thing to Do (August 25, 2015)
Why am I making an effort to conserve water when it’s being wasted, squandered or stolen by others? Why am I still seeing so many very green lawns around my neighborhood in Los Angeles, California?
Within a one week period while driving, I came upon two broken water pipes, this one in Beverly Hills and one in Sherman Oaks. The precious water was rushing down the street into gutters.
There was a news item a few months ago about someone filling up a water tank truck from a municipal water faucet and driving it to a property outside of that municipality. I was so incensed that I wrote a letter to the Los Angeles Times newspaper, which they printed on 7-12-15 in the Opinion section. Here is my letter:
Oh Magnum, How Could You?
All by yourself with just a few bad acts, you may have added a new verb to our lexicon: to selleck. To anyone else thinking of “sellecking,” don’t you dare steal my water in this drought. It’s bad enough that old pipes are breaking and flooding streets with the precious water I have been trying so hard to conserve, one toilet flush at a time.
The answer to my question at the beginning of this post is: because, for me, it’s the right thing to do. Don’t let your actions be dictated by the behavior of others. When you feel something is wrong, don’t opt for that choice just because someone else does.
Live your life on the moral path that’s right for you. Don’t live it always trying to get away with something, trying to screw the next guy before he screws you, always worrying about being caught. You will feel better about yourself and glide more smoothly as you go. Play nice on the playground even when others don’t.
Fortune Cookie Says (August 7, 2015)
My friends and I had just finished dinner at a local Asian restaurant. We moved to the obligatory next step and opened our fortune cookies.
“Here, Lee Gale, write a blog about this,” suggested Sheila as she handed me her fortune.
The thin slip of paper said: “Develop an appreciation for the present moment.” I put it in my wallet and forgot about it. A few weeks later, I noticed it hiding between a one-dollar and five-dollar bill.
What shall I write, what shall I write? I pondered.
Some days later, I had parked my car in the underground parking lot of my neighborhood corner shopping center and was running for the elevator. I squeezed in just as the doors were starting to close thinking, Whew, I made it. These stupid elevators take so long to come.
I turned around to face front as all good elevator riders are taught as children when I noticed an obese, crippled woman walking toward us. Without even thinking about it, my arm shot up between the doors and broke their pending contact, almost breaking my arm in the process. I forced the doors open and said, “Don’t rush. We’ll wait for you.” Of course, I hadn’t polled the other passengers, but I noticed one looking at me, smiling, and nodding. The lesson was that the present moment had presented me with an opportunity to do something nice for someone else and to feel good about myself–no, proud of myself.
The woman stepped into the elevator and thanked me. Maybe she’s used to people helping her out. She’s also probably used to people ignoring her or even berating her for delaying them as they go about their busy and important agendas.
We exchanged a few idle, ice-breaker words as the elevator took off. When it arrived at her floor, she thanked me again as she exited. It should have been me who thanked her. I am sure I walked a few inches taller until bedtime.
Get some of those good feelings for yourself. It’s easy; just be kind to others. Your acts might even splash onto bystanders, too, and remind them to slow down and appreciate the present moment.
Dare to Be Colorful! (July 26, 2015)
Some know how to swath themselves in color; some don’t. Have you ever noticed people who dress only in neutral or drab colors: blacks, whites, grays, beiges, browns, pale blues? Or, maybe you dress that way.
I’ve always wondered if those people feel they don’t deserve to shine. Maybe they don’t want to attract attention to themselves. Their color palettes often match their personalities.
In physics, color is a function of a specific wavelength of visible light. Black and white are not considered colors since they do not have specific wavelengths. White is made up of all wavelengths of visible light, and black is the absence of visible light.
We use the word color to denote a certain lightheartedness such as colorful jokes which are risqué, daring, and fun. We describe something as being off-color if it is somewhat offensive. I've heard it said that color makes a statement, whereas lack of color only makes a suggestion.
There is a medical condition occurring mostly in the winter called seasonal affective disorder (SAD) where low light causes depression in those who suffer from it. One of the treatments is exposure to light boxes, which are small walls of light.
Color and light are uplifting, perky, jazzy, exciting. Color can be visual, auditory, emotional, and more. Some people dream in color.
A neurological phenomenon called synesthesia is where stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway creates automatic, involuntary experiences in a second such pathway. So, synesthetes (people with this ability) may feel, hear, or taste color, and it may aid their creative process. Artists such as Franz Liszt, Vincent Van Gogh, and Leonard Bernstein were synesthetes.
If your comfort zone won't allow you to dress colorfully, at least bring color into your life in other ways: flowers (not just white ones), colorful paintings, tropical fish, etc. Dare to lighten up; dare to brighten up; dare to make a statement. Maybe color will aid your creative process or at least bring some cheer into your life, and one additional perk: it's free!
Participate in Stimulating Experiences (July 11, 2015)
There are many ways to bring joy, excitement, and satisfaction into your life. One thing I try to do is grab opportunities to be involved in stimulating experiences.
For ten years starting in 2005, I volunteered with a fireworks crew to set up the show on the golf course of the Big Canyon Country Club in Newport Beach, California. We built scaffolding to hold tubes for the fireworks charges. Then, we wired the tubes electrically and loaded the charges inside. An electric cord at the end of the center strip on top of the scaffolding was then plugged into a battery operated motherboard which was used to control the firing of the charges. That was a long explanation for something that might seem mundane or unimportant to some. To me and maybe a few of you, however, it was fascinating.
A few years ago, I worked the motherboard during the fireworks show. That was a real high! Think of the Wizard of Oz sitting at his control board in total charge of a display that captivated the enraptured attention of others.
The day of the fireworks shows, I leave my house at 8:00am and get home after 1:00am the following morning. It’s hard work all day for no pay. What is your reward? you might ask. Answer: a good physical workout, stimulation in areas that excite me, a fun day at a gorgeous location, camaraderie with the other crew members, chow on hand the entire day, a fantastic seat for the fireworks show, and a satisfying sense of accomplishment.
Repayment doesn't always have to be monetary. Sometimes, it's worth doing a thing just for the pleasure of doing it. Find those kinds of opportunities for yourself. Live your life for the sheer joy of it.
Battling the Inevitability of Aging (June 26, 2015)
“Nothing is certain but death and taxes.” We’ve all heard that quotation or a variation of it. Usually, the path to that certainty of death is aging. So, how do we deal with it?
Like most things in life, we have choices. We can rail against aging, try to defeat it, or accept it. No matter which method we chose, however, we can’t avoid it.
Today, with so many tricks of medicine and technology at our disposal, people try to pretend that they are not aging. There is makeup to allow us to hide blemishes, enhance dull features, or just sparkle; hair dye to avoid revealing that telltale gray; hair implants to reverse balding; plastic surgery to do away with sagging skin; contact lenses to make the correction of poor sight invisible; hearing aids of various kinds including implants--the most invisible; clothing to make us look like teenyboppers; and shoes with too-high heels pathetically worn by women with foot problems and fragile bones teetering to keep their balance. The list goes on and on. For years, I missed much of what was being said because I refused to consider even exploring hearing aids; the idea made me feel old.
Many turn themselves into caricatures: the fake looking face which is now so common it’s almost a norm; the old guy with the too-young girlfriend, another almost norm; or the baby boomer with the too tight pants and tee shirt. So, do we keep chasing after that elusive youth, do we just throw up our hands and let whatever happens happen, do we choose some middle path? Each person must make that decision for him/herself, of course.
Let’s consider one additional factor: happiness. Are we happy with ever escalating procedures, devices, and fashions? Some will insist they are. However, under that facade still lurks failing hips and knees, pain from arthritis, waning strength and vigor, and all the rest.
Is there a way to age gracefully and be okay with who you are? Some thoughts are: we can strive to be as healthy and fit as possible; we can dress nicely but age-appropriately; we can accept that we need glasses or hearing aids to enhance the quality of life--or a cane, or a walker, or whatever.
Let’s at least try to avoid health endangering procedures such as invasive elective surgery done only to chase that hyped youth. There was a case a few years ago of the mother of a famous entertainer being rejected for cosmetic surgery by various doctors due to an existing health condition until she finally found a willing one. He did the surgery she so hungered for, and she died.
Must we put our lives or health at risk only to pretend we’re something that we’re not? Let’s battle to be okay with who we are rather than battling against nature.
Memory, that Wily Beast (June 11, 2015)
From time to time, I host a guest blogger on a topic relevant to my blog. Today, Alan Levine, a former acting partner in one of my senior acting classes, has submitted a guest blog. Alan refers to me in the blog by various names, so here is an explanation of my name: Lee Gale Gruen. “Lee Gale” is my first name. “It’s too confusing,” I hear you complain. Well hey, if you can remember Beyoncé, you can remember Lee Gale. I never go by the first name “Lee,” although Alan uses it a few times in his blog. Alan also calls me LGG which comes from the initials of my entire name. Some people call me LG or Legal, both of which are okay with me.
Now, on to the guest blog:
Memories
by: Alan Levine
So there I was standing in front of a community theatre when I was tapped on the shoulder and greeted with “hello Alan, nice to see you here.” “Hello, I said back to a familiar face, I love this theatre.”
She excused herself and headed for the restroom prior to the curtain call. I continued into the theatre with my wife and friends. “I can’t believe it I said, I can’t remember her name.” “That’s Lee,” my wife said. Oh my I thought. Here’s someone with whom I had worked on stage in a workshop performance of “Fatal Attraction” just four years ago, and her name popped right out of my head.
I avoided further embarrassment by walking up and engaging in conversation. “Lee Gale” I said, “how nice to see you,” and then proceeded to have a conversation with her and her friends about theatre and remembering lines and how difficult it has become. She told me that she was about to audition for a show and only had to remember one line. Actually Lee smiled and said “it was only one word.” I kept thinking, what has happened to our memory. Why does it jump back and forth? Why is it we can remember chapter and verse of something we learned fifty years ago, but struggle to name the last movie we went to?
Oh I know, there have been hundreds of studies one can read about how the brain slowly loses its ability to absorb more information and the recall buttons begin to lose their ability to function. But that won’t happen to me I thought. With enough effort my brain will continue to function as it always has, and my ability to remember people, places and things will get me through life as it’s always done.
Ah, but who am I kidding? So like most of the readers of this column, I suspect that like you, my memory mechanisms are not as sharp as they once were and that I will have to resort to all the tricks I keep reading about. Try new things we’re told, play games, do crosswords and Sudoku puzzles and keep your mind active. Use tricks to help remember names, takes memory classes. After all since all the improvements in medical science are letting us live longer and stay productive, we should know what we are talking about, where we are and where we’ve been. And most importantly remember the people who have made an impact in our lives. Thank you LGG, at least I finally remembered to send you this piece.
Unstressing at the Airport, One Dog at a Time (May 28, 2015)
I love dogs of all stripes, colors and persuasions. Tell me off, and if you’re a human, I’ll be right back at ya. Tell me off, and if you’re a dog, I’ll beg for more.
Whenever I see a dog anywhere, I’m drawn involuntarily as if beckoned while in a trance, powerless to resist. Just to be able to look at them, pet them, hang out with them is a privilege and calms me immediately. So, imagine my surprise a few weeks ago when I was part of the craziness that is Los Angeles International Airport.
I was waiting to board an airplane for a flight to visit my family. I had already navigated parking, walking to the terminal, checking in, and making my way to the gate.
I found a place to sit in a crowded area and, with great difficulty, was trying to relax and read. I glanced up for a moment and saw a big, curly dog walking toward me followed by a few humans. Naturally, I sprung out of my seat to investigate.
I was greeted by Sofie, a Golden Doodle (Golden Retriever and Poodle mix) resplendent in a red cape, who was next to her owner. I was all over Sofie–calm, patient Sofie. Other passengers sidled up to make her acquaintance. Sofie nonchalantly tolerated her admirers— just another day’s work.
Heidi Huebner, who was part of Sofie’s entourage, explained that the PUP (Pets Unstressing Passengers) Program at LAX has been operating since April, 2013. For years, dogs have been used elsewhere in such duty providing stress relief and comfort to people at hospitals, homes for seniors, schools, and other similar facilities. (I used to be a pet therapy team with my dog at a local hospital.) Now, dogs are doing it at airports, those high stress generators.
The dog/owner volunteer teams are trained and then registered with Therapy Dogs, Inc. Heidi added that similar programs are now operating at 26 airports throughout the nation. To volunteer at the PUP Program and other VIP (Volunteer Information Professionals) Programs at Los Angeles International Airport, visit their website at: www.lawa.org/vip.
Now, I’m just wondering where the human Sofies are trained and registered? I need a few of those in my life.
Irritants Can Be Advantages (May 16, 2015)
Last week I was sitting at my computer, busy, busy, busy. I went to grab for my pencil, missed, and knocked it off the computer desk.Oh, I don’t need this now! I muttered to myself.
I bent over and groped for it on the floor. No luck. After a few choice expletives, I activated the flashlight on my cell phone (a nice feature BTW) and bent over even further, shining the light around.
I finally spotted the blasted pencil. Of course, it had rolled completely under my desk to the far end, tightly jammed up against the wall molding behind the computer cord, like a kitten hiding under the bed. I had to bend over to the point where my head was at the same level as my feet and reach to my arm’s length to grab it. As I was doing so, I realized how good it felt to stretch my spine. My errant pencil had offered me a little free exercise.
Why can’t we extrapolate those kinds of experiences to larger ones in our lives? How many times are we inconvenienced by unforeseen circumstances which annoy, irritate, or anger us? We’re less able to tolerate them when we’re on a deadline, tired, running late to an appointment, and on and on. That’s when each of our own versions of “expletives deleted” kicks in.
Some opt for the “F” word, the “S” word, the “D” word, or the “H” word, and that's just in English. Others downplay it such as what a childhood friend’s father used to say: “Oh, feathers and moose meat!” I always liked that. I wish I had found out the origin, but I was just a kid and not so fascinated by words and phrases as I am now. Anyway, that was just as powerful for him as the current popularity of the “alphabet” words.
There’s that old expression, “When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade.” Well, that’s not just for the big, oppressive stuff of life. It can also be for the little things, too.
When something interferes with your plans for a minute, an hour, or a day, see if you can turn it into an advantage or opportunity. Don’t let the small irritants you encounter take a few more seconds off your life span. Those seconds are valuable and finite. Save them for the rewarding things. If you must, throw that pencil on the floor deliberately to open new possibilitie
If You Don't Age Gracefully, Think of the Alternative--Yikes! (April 30, 2015)
Aging gracefully is hard work. We have to motivate ourselves to eat healthy, exercise, be positive, seek interesting activities, and so much more. When I begin to falter, I think of the alternative: if I eat too much junk food, I feel bad physically; if I skip exercising, my body hurts; if I get into negativity, I feel sluggish and non-productive. So, although it seems easier to just vegetate and withdraw, it’s much harder in the long run.
There are many paths to aging gracefully. Some people think it’s in their physical appearance alone and spend huge chunks of time and money running to hairdressers, makeup artists, plastic surgeons, clothes shopping, etc. Yes, our physical appearance is important to a degree. However, our attitude, behavior and pursuits are just as important if not more so.
A young looking, well dressed, well-coiffed outer shell is barren when matched with an angry, negative, judgmental mind-set. Such an outlook spills out and colors everything else in our lives.
Have you ever had the experience of meeting a physically attractive man or woman only to discover they had a very off-putting way of acting? You suddenly begin to notice their physical attributes that are not so attractive which you hadn’t seen at first. Conversely, have you ever met someone whom you found physically unattractive, but who had a warm or charismatic personality? You soon forget about their physical appearance and are drawn to them. Remember the phenomenal success and influence of Eleanor Roosevelt, a woman who truly reinvented herself as she aged.
So, remember how fortunate you are to be alive and have the opportunity to age gracefully. Do it by working from the inside out.
Aging gracefully is hard work. We have to motivate ourselves to eat healthy, exercise, be positive, seek interesting activities, and so much more. When I begin to falter, I think of the alternative: if I eat too much junk food, I feel bad physically; if I skip exercising, my body hurts; if I get into negativity, I feel sluggish and non-productive. So, although it seems easier to just vegetate and withdraw, it’s much harder in the long run.
There are many paths to aging gracefully. Some people think it’s in their physical appearance alone and spend huge chunks of time and money running to hairdressers, makeup artists, plastic surgeons, clothes shopping, etc. Yes, our physical appearance is important to a degree. However, our attitude, behavior and pursuits are just as important if not more so.
A young looking, well dressed, well-coiffed outer shell is barren when matched with an angry, negative, judgmental mind-set. Such an outlook spills out and colors everything else in our lives.
Have you ever had the experience of meeting a physically attractive man or woman only to discover they had a very off-putting way of acting? You suddenly begin to notice their physical attributes that are not so attractive which you hadn’t seen at first. Conversely, have you ever met someone whom you found physically unattractive, but who had a warm or charismatic personality? You soon forget about their physical appearance and are drawn to them. Remember the phenomenal success and influence of Eleanor Roosevelt, a woman who truly reinvented herself as she aged.
So, remember how fortunate you are to be alive and have the opportunity to age gracefully. Do it by working from the inside out.
Oh, I Can’t Do That (April 16, 2015)
Many people encounter something new or different and say, “Oh, I can’t do that.” Then, there are others who say, “Oh, I can do that.”
Sheila Ross, a member of my gym, is seventy-nine years old and in the latter category. She is able to do a yoga exercise called “the plow.” Sheila has never taken a yoga class. She simply saw someone a few months earlier doing that maneuver and decided to try it. Yes, Sheila has been exercising for a long time, and yes, she's naturally limber. However, she had never done the plow, but she was willing to give it a try.
Not everyone will be able to do the plow. However, maybe we can at least take a lesson from Sheila and try things that seem difficult rather than backing off immediately with an “Oh, I can't do that" attitude.
This pertains to all types of behavior, not just a yoga exercise. Do you shy away from such actions as taking a class, volunteering, or going somewhere to make new friends? That's typical behavior. It's uncomfortable to venture into the unknown. However, we miss so many opportunities and life enhancing possibilities by retreating into our comfortable cocoons.
It's so easy to automatically say, “That’s too hard for me,” or “I've never been good at that kind of thing,” or whatever your excuse is. What about doing what Sheila did? What about seeing or hearing about something interesting and saying “I think I'll try that?” Let's work toward overcoming that little voice inside our heads that always tells us we can't do things. Remember the mantra which I’ve discussed before: if you think it's too hard, do it anyway!
You won't be proficient the first time you try something new. But, you can certainly work up to it. The secret is: small, manageable portions.
So, the program is:
1. Think of something that intrigued you, but that you resisted trying with all your reasons and good excuses.
2. Approach that something with baby steps and keep at it slowly and consistently.
3. Give it a try for a given period of time, say two weeks.
4. Check your progress at the beginning and at the end. Have you gotten a little better? Is it a bit easier?
5. Keep going and give yourself another couple of weeks to reassess.
Remember, it’s not a contest, and you don't have to become an expert. The goal is to find more joy, excitement, and purpose in your life. You might not be successful in all your new endeavors, but at least you tried, which puts you a lot closer to success than not making an attempt in the first place. I promise that if you don't like it, you can always go back into your cocoon.
Many people encounter something new or different and say, “Oh, I can’t do that.” Then, there are others who say, “Oh, I can do that.”
Sheila Ross, a member of my gym, is seventy-nine years old and in the latter category. She is able to do a yoga exercise called “the plow.” Sheila has never taken a yoga class. She simply saw someone a few months earlier doing that maneuver and decided to try it. Yes, Sheila has been exercising for a long time, and yes, she's naturally limber. However, she had never done the plow, but she was willing to give it a try.
Not everyone will be able to do the plow. However, maybe we can at least take a lesson from Sheila and try things that seem difficult rather than backing off immediately with an “Oh, I can't do that" attitude.
This pertains to all types of behavior, not just a yoga exercise. Do you shy away from such actions as taking a class, volunteering, or going somewhere to make new friends? That's typical behavior. It's uncomfortable to venture into the unknown. However, we miss so many opportunities and life enhancing possibilities by retreating into our comfortable cocoons.
It's so easy to automatically say, “That’s too hard for me,” or “I've never been good at that kind of thing,” or whatever your excuse is. What about doing what Sheila did? What about seeing or hearing about something interesting and saying “I think I'll try that?” Let's work toward overcoming that little voice inside our heads that always tells us we can't do things. Remember the mantra which I’ve discussed before: if you think it's too hard, do it anyway!
You won't be proficient the first time you try something new. But, you can certainly work up to it. The secret is: small, manageable portions.
So, the program is:
1. Think of something that intrigued you, but that you resisted trying with all your reasons and good excuses.
2. Approach that something with baby steps and keep at it slowly and consistently.
3. Give it a try for a given period of time, say two weeks.
4. Check your progress at the beginning and at the end. Have you gotten a little better? Is it a bit easier?
5. Keep going and give yourself another couple of weeks to reassess.
Remember, it’s not a contest, and you don't have to become an expert. The goal is to find more joy, excitement, and purpose in your life. You might not be successful in all your new endeavors, but at least you tried, which puts you a lot closer to success than not making an attempt in the first place. I promise that if you don't like it, you can always go back into your cocoon.
Hanging Out Via Technology (April 3, 2015)
In my last post, I wrote about taking a break from your technology. This time I’m going to focus on a wonderful, underused way to use your technology.
Hanging-out time with a cherished person in your life is precious. Hanging out is just being together doing nothing in particular. Just the closeness, even if the conversation is minimal, unimportant, or non-existent, is nourishing.
Several years ago, I visited my aunt who lived in Las Vegas at the same time her two sons, my cousins, were visiting. Her third child, a daughter, was living in Thailand.
When we sat down to dinner, one cousin opened his laptop computer. With the click of a few buttons and the magic of Skype, he connected with his sister in Thailand. He placed his laptop on the table in front of an empty chair, and my aunt, my three cousins, and I all had dinner together. We talked, laughed, and just engaged in typical dinner patter like most families sharing a meal together. It was an amazing experience! I watched my cousin in Thailand on the computer screen as she participated in the conversation just like the rest of us.
I talk often on the phone to my son, Richard, who lives hundreds of miles away. He calls me when he has free time which can be while walking to the subway, driving to the store, or whatever.
A few days ago, I went technologically with Richard to Home Depot. He needed some wood and hardware for a cabinet he was building. I was on the Bluetooth stuck into his ear, and I could hear him talking to the salesman as well as the sound of the wood being cut on the skill saw in the background.
When Richard walked to another department, we spoke briefly about the type of cabinet handles he was looking for–nothing of great importance. I’d hear him laughing with an employee about some consideration or another dealing with the proposed cabinet. Just listening to his laughter buoyed me up.
I remember hanging out with Richard years ago when he was distributing flyers door-to-door for some neighborhood campaign he supported. I was in Los Angeles on my cell phone as he was knocking on doors and talking to neighbors hours away from me. I still remember listening to the flapping of his sandals as he walked the streets while we chatted. I was right there with him.
Hanging out with my son is a privilege, doing nothing special but just being together. Hang out with your special people whenever you get the chance. Don’t terminate the telephone conversation because it doesn’t seem important enough; it’s valuable! Spend more time with those who cheer you up. Use the power of today’s technology to help you do it.
Disconnect from Your Technology (March 18, 2015)
Do you need more quiet time in your life and can’t figure out how to get it? We live in an age of too many distractions, and we are constantly multi-tasking and anxious. Everyone and everything seems to be vying for our attention. We don’t even have time to think, contemplate, or wind down.
To preserve our health, both physical and mental, we must disengage periodically, preferably a few times per day (I’ve blogged here on similar subjects before: September 9, 2014: “Scheduling Downtime,” and February 28, 2014: “Decompressing in a Compression Age.”) This time, I’m going to focus on our technology devices.
Many people have their cell phones hanging around their necks in phone slings so they are close to them at all times. Some of those necklace-like pouches are decorative and also serve as a fashion statement. And, how about the even trendier Bluetooth earpiece, seemingly a permanent feature protruding from an ear of some perpetually-connected types? They can’t even wait the few seconds to retrieve their cell phone and push the talk button.
One long-time, close friend puts her cell phone on the table when we meet for lunch at a restaurant. The moment the phone rings, she looks at the monitor to see if it’s a call she must answer. The reality is that she answers almost all calls “just in case it’s something important.” My reaction to that is: What am I, chopped liver? Obviously, that “just in case” phone call is more important than our quality time together for the hour or so we’ve allotted in our busy schedules.
This happened to me once on a first (and last) date. We met at a restaurant whereupon Mr. Wonderful plunked his phone next to his plate for easy access. He didn’t like it one bit when I suggested that we turn off our cell phones during dinner.
I have a former friend whose motherly role to her husband and grown children included serving as the family information hub. All day, every day, her husband and children would check in with her several times on the phone, and she would convey the family news and plans from one to another. As you might guess, when I was with her, I spent a lot of time just sitting there like a lox while she waxed on via phone technology. When I once suggested that she not answer the phone during our short time together, she became distraught and defensive. As you might guess, that’s why she’s a former friend.
Another addiction is listening to the car radio or a CD while driving. Have you ever considered turning off those gadgets from time to time? Just ride in silence and bask in the quiet; it’s rejuvenating. To help you with that task, I’ve found this amazing method to disconnect, which is quick, easy, and free. What more could you ask for? I’ve used this method for awhile now and found that it works, so there’s no need to check Urban Legends to see if it’s a myth. With some extrapolation, it can be applied to most electronic devices. Just follow the simple instructions. With a little practice and patience, I’m sure you’ll be able to grasp it. If I could, you can.
Fool proof instructions for turning off car radio
1. Hold index finger out in pointing position.
2. Aim finger toward on/off radio knob.
3. Slowly propel arm forward until tip of finger makes contact with aforementioned knob.
4. Apply additional arm muscle pressure to compel finger to push knob.
5. Listen to determine if sound still emanating from radio. If so, start again from Step 1.
Once you’ve mastered your car radio, try that method on your other technology paraphernalia. They may work a bit differently, but with a little tweaking, you’ll get the hang of it. Some will have to withdraw from their devices like an addict. I know it’s hard, but it’s also calming, liberating, and gratifying. Take charge of yourself, people! No one else will.
On Death (March 5, 2015)
Our own death is a subject that is the proverbial elephant in the room. So many people are in denial and don’t want to talk about it. But, most of us in the baby boomer and senior age ranges think about it a lot. Maybe we have our own health issues, or maybe our peers and loved ones have died or are dying. We can’t help thinking that we’re next.
I recently had a long talk with a friend, Dr. Janet Maker, about this subject. Janet had breast cancer a while ago and went through the routine treatments. She’s now in remission. However, it made a permanent impact on her. She has written a book, The Thinking Woman’s Guide to Breast Cancer: Take Charge of Your Own Recovery and Remission, about her difficult experiences navigating the medical world regarding her cancer. Janet feels strongly about preparing and thinking about her own death.
“I want to do it right. I don’t just want to go out kicking, screaming and afraid.”
Janet suspects that people avoid thinking and talking about their own death because they fear the unknown, feel sadness about losing everything they love, and have regrets about things they did or did not do.
“If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you regret not having done?” she asked me.
I had never thought about it. Identifying those things might motivate people to do them. Do you feel like you have done what you came to do?
I realized that one of my needs is to help others–to give back to the community. I use my blog and my public talks as a vehicle to do so. I hadn’t really identified it that way before.
Janet's pending book is toward that same end. She wants to pass along the information she learned the hard way to make it easier for women who find themselves on a similar journey with breast cancer. She also wants to bring as much joy as possible into her life. That includes being kinder to herself and others. With that goal, she is creating an online newsletter, “Janet's Good News,” where each month she will feature a person and charity that is doing something to make the world better.
What do you need to do? How might you go about doing it? When?
The Health Obsession Spiral (February 19, 2015)
Are you obsessed about your health or that of someone else such as your child, spouse, or parent? Do you always manage to work it into the conversation? People spend so much time focusing on health issues: thinking about them, reading about them, discussing them, going to doctors, taking medicine, getting treatments, and on and on.
I’m not saying people don’t have legitimate conditions and concerns. Sometimes health issues totally interrupt our lives. I’m talking about becoming obsessive about it—making it into your whole life.
I don’t want to use the H word (that’s hypochondriac to you), but some people are or come pretty close. Maybe they learned that behavior as children from some influential adult in their lives who behaved that way. Or, maybe they found that they got a lot of sympathy and attention when they had ailments, and now it has just become a lifestyle without their realizing it. Those who obsess about the health of another may get attention onto themselves that way, too (shades of Munchausen by Proxy).
People who engage in this obsessive behavior seem to think that subject is also fascinating to others. One day, as she waxed on about her husband’s latest health issue, a friend started discussing his bowel movements.
“Okay, stop right there,” I screamed.
That snapped her back to the moment. She hadn’t even realized how inappropriate her discussion had become, and that most people are simply not interested in hearing about other people’s elimination patterns.
It always amazes me how often sickly people rally when there’s something fun or interesting to do. They manage to get themselves dressed and to an event, and they don’t seem to think about their health issues until the event is over.
The constant discussion of health issues weighs on me, whether my own or the health of others. Does it on you? Or, are you the one who discusses it ad nauseam, totally ignoring those raised eyebrows or glazed looks in the eyes of anyone within the sound of your voice?
When I was a young mother, much of my conversation centered around my children including their health issues. I’d discuss with other mothers things like pediatricians, shots, and typical childhood illnesses. It often got to be a subtle pissing contest of “my pediatrician is better than your pediatrician.” I learned then that those types of discussions become tiresome, to me anyway. As people get older, many focus more on their own health and play a version of “my health problems are worse than your health problems.” Another popular game is “my therapist said” as I get often from a relative who uses it as her weapon of choice to beat any opponent into submission. Therapy can be very beneficial. However, used in that manner, it is counterproductive.
Then, there’s the crowd that focuses on the health of their pets. I was at a luncheon recently, and some of the women there lapsed into discussing the size and consistency of their dogs’ poop. Although I love dogs and all animals for that matter, there are some issues about them I’m not interested in discussing.
In her final years, my mother’s only focus became her declining health. It was all she wanted to talk about, and she’d get angry if we didn’t want to discuss it constantly. On the other hand, there was my friend, Priscilla. She refused to give in to her cancer; she rarely discussed it. Four months before she died, I went on a trip to Alaska with her and another friend. Yes, Priscilla had to rest more than we did. Yes, she was sometimes quiet. However, she participated in activities to the best of her ability and got real joy from the beauty around her. I have another friend with serious Parkinson’s disease. She calls me to give me book recommendations. When I ask her how she is, her answer is usually, “fine.”
When my dog and I were a pet therapy team visiting patients at a local hospital, the patients usually perked up when we came in and forgot about their health issues for the five or ten minutes we were there. The diversion took their minds off their conditions.
If you have health issues, you don’t have to moan and dump on others as a regular practice. You can create your own diversionary activities and make yourself into someone people want to visit and be with rather than avoid.
I’m not implying that health issues aren’t important nor advocating ignoring them. What I’m saying is that there must be something else of value in life than just that. Certainly talk about your health briefly from time to time, but be sensitive to whether others want to hear long, detailed discussions about it. Consider the reverse: are you really interested in a constant diet of hearing that type of information from them?
Being a Good Listener (February 5, 2015)
Are we all buzzing around on send-mode but rarely on receive-mode? My forty-four-year-old son taught me this distinction. One time, when he was upset about something and was telling me about it, I immediately segued into my problem solving role. He became irritated and defensive. “Mom, I don’t want you to fix it. I just want you to listen.”
I’m definitely a problem solver–the “fix-it” type. Are you that type? Do you find that when you’re just trying to help someone with your sage advice, worldly wisdom, or unsolicited opinion, they become defensive and suddenly dump all their anger on you? Maybe they don’t want your advice, wisdom, or opinion. Maybe they just need to rant.
Learning to be a good listener is an art. That’s why counselors, therapists, life-coaches, etc. get paid the big bucks. They have mastered the art of just listening with an occasional “oh,” or “uh-huh,” or “I see.”
Occasionally, we all need a sounding board. There isn’t necessarily a solution to what we’re upset about. We just want to verbalize it. Somehow, doing so to the wall or a chair just doesn’t cut it. Why an inert human being hearing our angry commentary seems so comforting is a mystery. Maybe it just makes us feel valid that another sentient being, preferably a human one, cares enough to spend time with us and just listen.
Now, when my son discusses something that is bothering him and I slip into fix-it mode, I try hard to remember to ask, “Do you want my input, or do you just want me to be a good listener?” I don’t always catch myself and am still a work-in-progress, but when I do, it has avoided so many arguments, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings. I show that I’m being supportive, that I respect him for being able to handle it himself, and that I’m not being intrusive.
Try it, even if you have to put a piece of tape over your mouth while you’re doing so. It may save a lot of friction in your relationships.
Having a Bad Day (January 19, 2015)
Have you ever had a bad day? I can almost guarantee the answer is, “yes.” I don’t think anyone can get through this life without having one. Well, last week I had a doozy. I set my alarm for 7:30am to allow plenty of time to get dressed, have breakfast, and drive carefully over a one-lane, winding, canyon road to pick up my friend for a writers’ club meeting.
She answered the door dressed in an old sweat suit.
“It’s tomorrow, Lee Gale.”
“What?” I responded without comprehension.
After she repeated it a few more times knocking me out of my denial, I fished out my calendar book. Yup, she was right. I had arrived at her house a full twenty-four hours before our date.
I couldn’t believe it; I was really bummed out. I didn’t have anything to do until 11:30am. I could have slept another few hours; I could have avoided a twelve-mile drive via a treacherous route; I could have done a million other things with my life.
I did some shopping to kill the time and made my way back over that horrible canyon road, fighting a traffic snag which made me late. When I got to the restaurant for my real first appointment that day, all the parking spaces in the lot were taken. I found one on the next block and had to pick my way with my sore toe through an unevenly paved alley. When I walked in to join the senior center “dining out” class as an invited guest of some friends, there were about thirty people seated at a very long table made from several placed railroad car fashion. My friends had been unable to save me a seat next to them.
I had been to the same restaurant once before, and I wasn’t too crazy about the food. Because this was a large group, the restaurant had set a fixed price menu costing almost twice what I paid previously. That would mean I’d have to sit at the far end from my friends and eat a mediocre, expensive meal with strangers.
Right at that moment, I went on overload. I had to have a time-out from my so far bad day. I whispered in one friend’s ear that I was going to leave, and I did. I drove home and had lunch, some quiet time, and a rest.
That’s one of the few times in my life I’ve been able to do something like that. Of course, the circumstances allowed for it: I was alone with my own car, I was close to my house, and I didn’t know anyone at the event except for a few people. Nevertheless, the lesson was that I assessed my needs and acted to meet them.
It made up for the fact that the week earlier I had done just the opposite at a social gathering and brooded over it for the next few days because I hadn’t been able to take care of myself. It’s so difficult to learn how to take care of ourselves yet so worth it.
Every Time I Drop a Spouse, I Blossom (January 6, 2015)
Someone emailed me recently suggesting I write a blog about suddenly finding yourself single in your senior years. She is in her late sixties and getting a divorce.
Loss of a partner be it a spouse, live-in relationship, or significant other, whether by death, divorce, or mutual agreement, is a blow at any age but maybe even more so in your later years when your resiliency has decreased. Such a shift is a major passage of life; we face the unknown future alone, scared, naked and shaking. I’ve experienced it, and what I’ve found is that no matter how hard it seemed at the time, my life eventually became better than before.
I’m certainly not advocating termination of a relationship if each party is enhanced by it. However, in my case, I blossomed after my two divorces. I found myself freed from a constraining existence which only served to restrict and diminish me. After the initial shock, fear, and devastation, I gathered my resources, struck out on my own, and flourished. The first time, I became much more independent, made new friends, and learned to ski. The second time, many years later and as a senior, I became an actress, author, motivational speaker and blogger—whew!
Although I make it sound easy, it was anything but. Each blossoming happened slowly over some years, and there were a lot of periods of self-doubt, misgivings, and lack of motivation. However, I finally did it, and I can honestly say that those new, wonderful things in my life would not have occurred within those marriages.
Divorce or a breakup of any type of relationship usually happens when it changes from one of nourishment and support to one of toxicity and isolation. If the deterioration comes gradually, we at least have time to get used to it. If the termination was sudden such as in the case of an unexpected death, the devastation can seem much worse. Nevertheless, in both instances, even if the relationship was positive, there might be an element of relief if it made you feel oppressed and stifled or forced you into the role of submissive underling (laborer to his/her CEO), full-time caretaker, etc.
Regardless of the reason you find yourself single, the healing process is the same. After grieving the loss, you must look inside yourself at your strengths (yes, you have them) and move forward with the goal of becoming healthy. You may have to alter your lifestyle: lower your standard of living, move to other quarters, or find a job. However, in the process, you might find those strengths you never knew you had.
Go check out that local senior center you’ve heard about. Sign up for a class others have mentioned or sounded intriguing. Take a trip with a friend or group. Follow up on a hobby, pastime, or something you always thought you might try some day but never had the time.
As I’ve emphasized so many times in my blogs, you have choices. You can become mired in your grief and turn it into a life-style, constantly discussing it with everyone you encounter until they start avoiding you. Or, you can proceed to carve out that new identity for yourself and blossom. This is your chance!
Are we all buzzing around on send-mode but rarely on receive-mode? My forty-four-year-old son taught me this distinction. One time, when he was upset about something and was telling me about it, I immediately segued into my problem solving role. He became irritated and defensive. “Mom, I don’t want you to fix it. I just want you to listen.”
I’m definitely a problem solver–the “fix-it” type. Are you that type? Do you find that when you’re just trying to help someone with your sage advice, worldly wisdom, or unsolicited opinion, they become defensive and suddenly dump all their anger on you? Maybe they don’t want your advice, wisdom, or opinion. Maybe they just need to rant.
Learning to be a good listener is an art. That’s why counselors, therapists, life-coaches, etc. get paid the big bucks. They have mastered the art of just listening with an occasional “oh,” or “uh-huh,” or “I see.”
Occasionally, we all need a sounding board. There isn’t necessarily a solution to what we’re upset about. We just want to verbalize it. Somehow, doing so to the wall or a chair just doesn’t cut it. Why an inert human being hearing our angry commentary seems so comforting is a mystery. Maybe it just makes us feel valid that another sentient being, preferably a human one, cares enough to spend time with us and just listen.
Now, when my son discusses something that is bothering him and I slip into fix-it mode, I try hard to remember to ask, “Do you want my input, or do you just want me to be a good listener?” I don’t always catch myself and am still a work-in-progress, but when I do, it has avoided so many arguments, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings. I show that I’m being supportive, that I respect him for being able to handle it himself, and that I’m not being intrusive.
Try it, even if you have to put a piece of tape over your mouth while you’re doing so. It may save a lot of friction in your relationships.
Having a Bad Day (January 19, 2015)
Have you ever had a bad day? I can almost guarantee the answer is, “yes.” I don’t think anyone can get through this life without having one. Well, last week I had a doozy. I set my alarm for 7:30am to allow plenty of time to get dressed, have breakfast, and drive carefully over a one-lane, winding, canyon road to pick up my friend for a writers’ club meeting.
She answered the door dressed in an old sweat suit.
“It’s tomorrow, Lee Gale.”
“What?” I responded without comprehension.
After she repeated it a few more times knocking me out of my denial, I fished out my calendar book. Yup, she was right. I had arrived at her house a full twenty-four hours before our date.
I couldn’t believe it; I was really bummed out. I didn’t have anything to do until 11:30am. I could have slept another few hours; I could have avoided a twelve-mile drive via a treacherous route; I could have done a million other things with my life.
I did some shopping to kill the time and made my way back over that horrible canyon road, fighting a traffic snag which made me late. When I got to the restaurant for my real first appointment that day, all the parking spaces in the lot were taken. I found one on the next block and had to pick my way with my sore toe through an unevenly paved alley. When I walked in to join the senior center “dining out” class as an invited guest of some friends, there were about thirty people seated at a very long table made from several placed railroad car fashion. My friends had been unable to save me a seat next to them.
I had been to the same restaurant once before, and I wasn’t too crazy about the food. Because this was a large group, the restaurant had set a fixed price menu costing almost twice what I paid previously. That would mean I’d have to sit at the far end from my friends and eat a mediocre, expensive meal with strangers.
Right at that moment, I went on overload. I had to have a time-out from my so far bad day. I whispered in one friend’s ear that I was going to leave, and I did. I drove home and had lunch, some quiet time, and a rest.
That’s one of the few times in my life I’ve been able to do something like that. Of course, the circumstances allowed for it: I was alone with my own car, I was close to my house, and I didn’t know anyone at the event except for a few people. Nevertheless, the lesson was that I assessed my needs and acted to meet them.
It made up for the fact that the week earlier I had done just the opposite at a social gathering and brooded over it for the next few days because I hadn’t been able to take care of myself. It’s so difficult to learn how to take care of ourselves yet so worth it.
Every Time I Drop a Spouse, I Blossom (January 6, 2015)
Someone emailed me recently suggesting I write a blog about suddenly finding yourself single in your senior years. She is in her late sixties and getting a divorce.
Loss of a partner be it a spouse, live-in relationship, or significant other, whether by death, divorce, or mutual agreement, is a blow at any age but maybe even more so in your later years when your resiliency has decreased. Such a shift is a major passage of life; we face the unknown future alone, scared, naked and shaking. I’ve experienced it, and what I’ve found is that no matter how hard it seemed at the time, my life eventually became better than before.
I’m certainly not advocating termination of a relationship if each party is enhanced by it. However, in my case, I blossomed after my two divorces. I found myself freed from a constraining existence which only served to restrict and diminish me. After the initial shock, fear, and devastation, I gathered my resources, struck out on my own, and flourished. The first time, I became much more independent, made new friends, and learned to ski. The second time, many years later and as a senior, I became an actress, author, motivational speaker and blogger—whew!
Although I make it sound easy, it was anything but. Each blossoming happened slowly over some years, and there were a lot of periods of self-doubt, misgivings, and lack of motivation. However, I finally did it, and I can honestly say that those new, wonderful things in my life would not have occurred within those marriages.
Divorce or a breakup of any type of relationship usually happens when it changes from one of nourishment and support to one of toxicity and isolation. If the deterioration comes gradually, we at least have time to get used to it. If the termination was sudden such as in the case of an unexpected death, the devastation can seem much worse. Nevertheless, in both instances, even if the relationship was positive, there might be an element of relief if it made you feel oppressed and stifled or forced you into the role of submissive underling (laborer to his/her CEO), full-time caretaker, etc.
Regardless of the reason you find yourself single, the healing process is the same. After grieving the loss, you must look inside yourself at your strengths (yes, you have them) and move forward with the goal of becoming healthy. You may have to alter your lifestyle: lower your standard of living, move to other quarters, or find a job. However, in the process, you might find those strengths you never knew you had.
Go check out that local senior center you’ve heard about. Sign up for a class others have mentioned or sounded intriguing. Take a trip with a friend or group. Follow up on a hobby, pastime, or something you always thought you might try some day but never had the time.
As I’ve emphasized so many times in my blogs, you have choices. You can become mired in your grief and turn it into a life-style, constantly discussing it with everyone you encounter until they start avoiding you. Or, you can proceed to carve out that new identity for yourself and blossom. This is your chance!
What Do You Do When the Happy Holidays Aren't So Happy? (December 22, 2014)
So, what do you do when the “happy holidays” aren’t so happy? Well, you bake cookies, of course (further discussion below).
Yes, it often looks like what the other guy has is so wonderful compared to what you have. This is the season where that’s especially true with seemingly everyone discussing all the wonderful things they’re going to do over the holidays. Maybe your plans or lack of them look pretty paltry next to theirs. How can we be happy with what we have and embrace it?
I had an experience a few years ago where I was feeling envious of a friend. It doesn’t matter what it was about–just fill in the blank. The point is: what she had seemed better, more desirable, and more appealing than what I had, and I was jealous.
I was telling my sad story to another friend who commented, “be careful what you wish for.” Ah yes, it’s so true and so easy to forget. When I took a good look at my coveted friend’s whole life, I realized I was cherry-picking. Yes, I was envious of “Thing A” that she had, but I certainly didn’t want “Thing B” in her life.
So, folks, when envy strikes, and it will, think about whether you’d really be willing to switch places with another person if you had to take the whole package and not just cherry-pick.
To cheer you up a bit if you’re feeling down at holiday time, and lots of people are, here’s a guilt-free cookie recipe that’s super healthy and yummy. You can also freeze them and, with a 20-second zap in the microwave, they’re ready to serve last-minute guests or pack in sack lunches.
“NO SUGAR, SALT, BUTTER, EGGS, FLOUR, BAKING SODA” COOKIES
3 average, over-ripe bananas
2 cups regular rolled oats
1 cup golden raisins
1/3 cup oil
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Mash bananas in large bowl; add rest of ingredients; mix well; let sit for 15 minutes; place large, teaspoonfuls onto
cookie sheet (mold into desired shape as they don’t change during baking); bake 20 minutes (NOTE: cookies can be
frozen and defrosted in microwave.)
Happy Holidays Your Style!
Do You Have Something to Say? (December 8, 2014)
A few months ago, a woman bought my memoir. I ran into her recently, and she told me she had really enjoyed it. “I knew you had something to say when I first met you,” she commented.
There’s a trendy term for that: “finding your voice.” It means getting in touch with and revealing your innermost feelings—expressing your real self. It’s a hard thing to do. After all, we keep so many things private fearing that if others learned about them they’d misuse the information, and we’d be harmed in some manner: rejected, ostracized, manipulated, criticized, lose control...
Have you found your voice? When is it finally your turn to do so? In my case, I was too inhibited by social constraints: this isn’t acceptable, I might hurt someone’s feelings, someone might get angry at me, I might be judged, someone might find fault with me. So, I went for years without saying what I had to say. I was so good at keeping my true feelings hidden that I even did it from myself.
I finally decided to write a memoir. It was just supposed to be a lightweight, father/daughter bonding book about when my father and I attended a senior acting class together when I was sixty and he was eighty-five. However, as I wrote, things appeared on the page almost involuntarily. Sometimes, I would sit back and ponder what I had just written: I didn’t realize I felt that way. I haven’t thought about that incident in decades. I was finding my voice through the process of writing about a small piece of my life. My sweet, little memoir became much more than that; it became a catharsis. The hidden feelings I was writing about are universal feelings, I’m sure, filtered through my own unique experiences. How do you feel about things, about life, about your own life in particular? When is it time for you to start saying it? You don’t have to write a book like I did. There are many ways to say what you have to say. If you like writing, then keep a journal or diary, write a letter to a friend (remember letters?), write a letter to the editor, write an article for a publication. If your preference is verbal, then tell it to a friend, acquaintance, group, therapist, the world.
We all have something to say. It’s gratifying to finally say what you feel inside without having to mask it for society’s approval. Try it. It may take baby steps, but with some practice, it will become easier.
It's Not All about You (November 25, 2014)
Everyone craves attention, even the quiet ones among us. In each encounter between people, there’s only a finite amount of it, and everyone deserves some. Human interaction is a competition with attention being the prize.
Have you ever been on a first-time encounter (date, business meeting, etc.) with someone who spends the whole time talking about him/herself? That can get old very fast. A friend told me about a man she met recently who spent the whole date talking about himself and never asked anything about her. I’m sure when he called for another date and she turned him down, he didn’t have a clue as to why.
Everyone is vying for the floor, and the stronger ones usually prevail. When one person gets that coveted floor too often, others can become resentful.
Although not a hard and fast rule, we tend to choose our friends, partners, spouses, or significant others based on our needs. Introverts often seek extroverts to be the entertainment committee or shield them from the world. Extroverts, conversely, find calm and relaxation with introverts. Needy types seek caretaker types, and vice versa. I’m sure you can think of many more examples. It’s subtle, but it exists. In this arrangement, there’s an unspoken agreement that one person gets more of the attention than the other. After a while, though, the pauper of the duo can get tired of the protocol and want to break that old treaty.
If you’re usually the main attraction, try to let the other guy have some attention. Ask, “How’s it going?” or “What have you been up to?” Then, watch his face light up as he starts talking about himself. And, remember not to jump in and take the floor back which usually goes something like this: “Oh yeah, when that happened to me I…” Just be a good listener for once.
If you’re the guy who usually ends up with a dearth of attention, be proactive and get some of it; it’s valuable stuff—makes you feel important. You might have to be bold and even rude by saying something as blatant as, “I’d like a turn to speak” or “I wasn’t finished yet.” Remember children, play fair on that playground of life. Everybody deserves a turn on the swing.
Taking Advantage (November 12, 2014)
I’ve become more and more aware of how valuable and precious my time is. I have to pick and choose what’s important to me. That brings me to today’s topic of: taking advantage. There’s usually nothing wrong with taking advantage of an opportunity within reason. We all try to do that. However, that’s not the kind of “taking advantage” I’m talking about.
Some people take advantage of the precious time of others. These are a few synonyms for that behavior: impose upon, exploit, use for one’s own sake, milk. Of course, friendships and relationships require some giving of time and energy to each other. However, the problem is when it’s taken to an extreme.
Do others take too much advantage of your precious time, or do you take too much advantage of the precious time of others? Taking advantage excessively can come in so many forms: unrealistic expectations of you, asking you to do too much and too often, dumping their problems on you, and so on. It doesn’t matter that they might do so very sweetly, maybe with apologies. They are still draining your valuable time and energy.
There reaches a point where we have to be assertive no matter how difficult it is. I know someone who has a literary skill which earns her money. A friend of hers often asks for help with various writing projects but doesn’t pay what the work is worth under the guise of “we’re friends.” That might fly once or even twice, but when is it time to put an end to being taken advantage of, even by a close associate? It’s our own responsibility to set boundaries. We must be the one to “call a halt.” If you don’t do it, you send the message that the status quo is okay with you.
How can we be assertive without damaging or ending the friendship or relationship? First, be honest with yourself. Are you tired of being taken advantage of and are starting to harbor resentment? Then, be honest with the other person. To use the aforementioned example: tell her that your time is valuable and limited, that you choose to use it on other things such as your own projects or jobs that pay you a fair wage, and that you can’t do her projects anymore.
Adapt that template to your own situation. Write out your speech so you’ll remember what you want to say. Practice it so you’ll hit your key points. It’s difficult telling others what they don’t want to hear. It’s even more difficult living with the consequences of not doing so.
Have a Potlatch (October 26, 2014)
A potlatch, practiced by some Native Americans, is a tribal ceremony highlighted by the giving away of material and non-material (ex: titles) things. Status is achieved not by who has the most “stuff” but by who gives away the most. Yes, the Native Americans sometimes took it to extremes with the giving-away part turning into a competition or by expecting a similar payback. However, let’s not throw out the concept of potlatch with the bath water. Maybe we can take the good parts.
We need to give away some of our stuff. We accumulate and hoard too much. Must we have more and more possessions, toys, money? When is it time to divest rather than invest? As the saying goes, “You can’t take it with you.” Of course, as a teenager who thought she knew everything, I’d point that out to my father, and he would respond, “Then I’m not going.” Dad did, however, become more generous as he aged.
If you don’t have “stuff” you can give away, then give away intangibles such as compliments, attention, help, advice (sparingly on that one). Giving away feels good to the giver as well as the receiver.
Are you familiar with the idea of helping others when you can't repay the benefactor of kind acts done in your behalf? I’ve posted before about this concept. (See my blog of June 6, 2014: Dealing with Regrets.) The potlatch I'm suggesting is a version of that. Sometime in your life, someone probably gave to you. The way to reciprocate is to give to someone else. The winner in that competition will be you.
The Secret Benefits of Exercise (October 13, 2014)
We all know or have heard or suspect that exercise is good for us. It keeps you toned, fit, firm. I started exercising years ago at a gym because I had lower back pain. Boy, has it helped with that! But, I found a hidden benefit: it helps with my stress level and when I’m feeling down.
I’m a Type A personality and always on the go–doing lots of things–trying new stuff. However, even if you’re a Type B, we all have stress. It’s life’s little gift to us for the privilege of being alive.
So, think about enrolling in a gym. Start out slowly doing what you can. It’s not a contest. There are no winners and losers. You don’t have to beat that person next to you doing their Jack LaLanne impersonation. Exercise for me seems to work best in a group situation. I guess I like to be among fellow sufferers. That’s why I go to a gym. Also, the music in the background helps to motivate me.
You might get a kick out of a commercial I made a few years ago advertising gym equipment. Google my name to find all of my online acting work.
If it’s too expensive to join a gym or you don’t like the regimen, then get outdoors and start walking. That doesn’t cost anything. Or, do your power walk at your local mall. It’s safe, interesting and free with air conditioning thrown in at no extra charge. Replicate the musical accompaniment of a gym by listening through ear buds on your favorite technology device.
It’s too boring, you say? Find some friends to walk with; you can socialize as you go. I have a group of friends who walk twice a week at the beach. No friends, you say? Check out Meetup.com, and find a group of walkers in your area. Many of them walk at the local malls.
What about your dog? It needs walking and loves it most when it’s you on the other end of the leash. When did “dog walker” become a profession? Why aren’t you walking Blondie or Milo or BooBoo yourself? Think of it as dog/owner bonding with exercise thrown in as a bonus. When I had a dog and walked her in my neighborhood, I encountered neighbors I had never met before walking their pooches. As an aside, dogs sniffing each other is also a perfect ice-breaker for their owners to get to know one another. If you don’t have a dog, one sniffing your crotch is an opportunity to start a conversation with its human. You just might make a new friend. Then, you could walk together and get some conditioning and socializing.
You can’t miss your daily daytime dose of (insert your favorite soap opera), you say? Record it and watch it in the evening. Use the daylight hours to be out there exchanging your stress and depression for some rays and a physical tuneup.
Surviving Irritating Behavior (September 28, 2014)
Is this how you feel sometimes? (photo omitted) I certainly do–more and more as I get older. So many little things seem to irritate me draining too much of my time and energy. Harboring upset feelings hurts ourselves much more than the ones who caused them.
Recently, it was the conversation and voice quality of a woman at an exercise class I attend that annoyed me. I’ve heard her speaking before, and she has a certain pitch which seems to shatter my ear drums. Her usual non-stop, rapid-fire conversation about some innocuous thing in her life, projected loud enough to wake the sleeping in the back row of a large theater, results in her delivery landing on the ears of many who aren’t interested including me. She is a drama queen and seems to crave attention, so she has honed her skill well.
Perhaps you’ve been the receiver of such behavior or maybe even the sender? How do we survive irritating people whom we encounter so often in our crowded society? The first thing, in my opinion, is to accept that we cannot change them. I certainly couldn’t have approached the woman in my class and asked her to change the quality of her voice and, in fact, her entire personality.
What I can do is change myself. I have learned to carry earplugs with me. I quietly donned my orange neon plugs and went about my exercise routine calmly and contentedly. If my tormentor noticed them poking out of my ears, maybe she got the idea that they were my firewall against her, but I doubt it.
The point of all this is that you have choices as I’ve emphasized many times in prior blogs. Don’t just let life happen to you. Take charge.
If you’re around irritating people: family, friends, acquaintances, or strangers in your personal life, your work life, your leisure life, or wherever, decide what you want for yourself. Do you want to suffer silently and be the loser, do you want to confront the situation head-on, or do you want it to change with as little effort and stress as possible? If it’s the last on that list, then alter yourself in some manner so the irritating behavior no longer affects you. It just might add a few more minutes to your life or at least make that life less agitated.
Scheduling Downtime (September 9, 2014)
Give yourself a day, a half day, or a few hours of decompression. You’ve been swimming out there in life’s ocean, fighting the sharks and treading water. You need to relax. Don’t come up too fast or you might get the bends.
Yes, it’s important to rest from the daily, frenetic rush. I tend to schedule too much packed into my day. By evening, I’m wiped out and on overload. The things I do in the early part of the day get much better attention than those at the end. When I have too many days like that in a row, I become overwhelmed and a little ditzy.
If you’re like me, it’s urgent to program relaxation into your schedule. Sometimes, I just crave a day alone at home with nothing planned, padding around in my sweats. Even then, I tend to be in high gear: on my computer, making a new recipe, cleaning, doing my nails, talking on the phone–always on. It’s so hard for me to stop. I have to make a conscious effort to do so.
If that also describes you, you probably wear yourself out just as I do. We have to force ourselves to calm down, chill out.
A friend recently told me that he’s been taking classes in breathing because he has a medical problem with his oxygen intake. The new breathing technique works well for him. Now, his biggest problem is remembering to breathe in the new manner.
Like my friend, when I consciously think about it, I do take a rest. My problem is the remembering part.
We Are All Herd Animals (August 24, 2014)
Humans are social animals. We have a natural instinct to stay together; we need each other. Make it work to your advantage. Figure out how to interact with your fellow beings so that you don’t become upset, agitated, or stressed out. You can’t change the behavior of others. You can only change your own behavior. So, go ahead and change your behavior.
Analyze what you’re doing that causes you to be the loser, the victim, the ostracized one–whatever typically happens to you during many interpersonal encounters. Try some behavior modification techniques on yourself. If you have a hard time interacting with people, getting along with others, or making new friends, observe those who do it so easily. What do they do? Once you figure that out, start imitating them. Yes, it will feel artificial at first. But, it’s like breaking in a pair of new shoes. Slowly, it will fit. You’ll start to be comfortable with your new behavior, and it will become incorporated into how you act.
You must take action to make your life better. If you’re passive and just let life happen to you, you take what you get. To aim your life in the direction you want it to go, you must be proactive. Go ahead, give it a try. If it doesn’t work, you can always go back to being passive.
Seek Environments That Calm and Uplift You (August 9, 2014)
I went to a wonderful exhibit recently at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I toured the display of Alexander Calder’s airy, spellbinding mobiles and was transported to a fairyland. For those few moments, I forgot about the crushing heat here in Los Angeles, California; my personal issues and anxieties; and the world and its demands. I hung out with Calder’s gifts to us all. The mobiles float, they waver, they tremble like the fragile human beings we all are.
Each was a jewel in its own right and was accompanied by a description, some poetic, which set the stage for the awe and amazement the work inspired. One I remember in particular had a vivid narrative written by Jean-Paul Sartre in 1963 after a visit to Calder's studio. He described the magical mobiles he saw as lyrical, technical, and mathematical symbols of nature, unable to ascertain if they were a result of cause and effect or the evolution of an idea.
Calder, who studied mathematical engineering as a young man, died in 1976. I was in my thirties then.
The lesson I took away: enjoy the natural and man-made beauty around you. It transports you for an instant and enables you to take shelter from that hurricane that is your life and focus on something other than your own, self-involved self.
Why Are People So Tough? (July 24, 2014)
Tough! Strong! Aggressive! Angry! As a child in junior high school, it was a big deal who was the best at put-downs–verbal violence, kill or be killed. Where do kids learn that–at home, in the community? One thought: sports are games of aggression, even seemingly innocuous ones like board games or chess matches, not only for the players but also for the spectators. As we watch, we are whipped (a very aggressive verb) into a frenzy of excitement. We want to see pain; blood is even better. Athletes are our avatars. They do what we can’t do for ourselves: vanquish, destroy, win.
A few weeks ago, I heard a radio report about the running of the bulls in Spain. It’s a prelude to the bullfights, one of the cruelest of modern-day sports. I attended a bullfight in Mexico about 40 years ago, not having any idea what I was actually going to see. Observing the audience was as eye-opening as the bullfight event itself. Whole families were in the stands from grandparents to toddlers to witness the spectacle. They had picnic baskets to dine while being entertained by the ceremonious goring of the bull with spears to weaken it for the eventual kill by the matador.
This is just a variation of the ancient, public gladiator performances where someone’s death was the prize, I thought.
I recently read about the proliferation of elephant poaching to harvest their tusks for the lucrative world market in ivory. There was a description in the article of a baby elephant that was taken to a village and tied to a post as a toy for the local children to torture. What is this twisted behavior all about–teaching children how fun it is to torture a helpless animal and perhaps by extension another human being? The old “nature vs. nurture” puzzle still puzzles: Is cruelty inherent in human nature, or do we teach it? If the latter is predominant, why?
People don’t have to thrust the bullfighter’s sword to be cruel. They can do it very subtly. They can snub others; they can post mean social media comments; they can one-up each other, and on and on. We think we’re so civilized, sophisticated. How does aggression and cruelty jibe with that? Do we get better perks in life being contentious and brutal? Are we happier?
Why I Write (July 10, 2014)
A friend commented recently that in my writing, I seem to understand and express so much about human nature, and she wondered how I was able to do that. I told her that I had learned a lot about the human condition from my probationers when I was a probation officer for 37 years. They often revealed their feelings to me, probably because I wasn’t a part of their personal lives, and they felt safe in doing so. That helped me understand my own fears, joys, frailties, goals, desires, and other feelings.
I’ve always been introspective, and that’s probably why I was drawn to a job working intimately with people. It’s only been a handful of years since I discovered that when I write, thoughts, feelings, and emotions spring forth that I didn’t even realize I had.
Writing is an incredible process for revealing yourself to yourself. Even those who write fiction insert so much that is personal. As I’ve mentioned in a prior blog, that’s why therapists recommend their clients keep a journal. We each think we’re unique, and we probably are in small ways. However, I believe that life’s processes are universal; most of us have had the same experiences in one form or another. I like sharing my own personal discoveries because if I’m able to help a fellow traveler on this planet, I feel satisfied, and that I’m giving back to the community.
Someone else asked me why I reveal so much about myself in my writing. I had to think about that for a while, but here’s my answer. At this stage of my life, I’m trying to confront and overcome the things that have controlled me for so many years, and I have used my blog as well as my published memoir, Adventures with Dad: A Father and Daughter’s Journey Through a Senior Acting Class, to do that.
So, my motives aren’t totally altruistic–are anyone’s? I get a payback by passing along my thoughts to others. You might, too.
Giving with No Strings Attached (June 25, 2014)
Do you give with strings attached? Have you ever been the recipient of such giving? Giving (or gifting) with strings attached is demeaning both to the giver and to the receiver. It is a power play–the giver wants to control the receiver’s behavior.
The commodity involved with giving is usually thought of as money or tangible goods. However, it can also be love, attention, effort, etc. For example, many people use love as a manipulative tool: I love you when you’re good (i.e. when you do what I want or act the way I want you to act), but I will withdraw my love when you are bad (i.e. when you don’t do what I want or act in a way I don’t like). This often occurs between spouses, significant others, parents and children, and other close relationships.
The giving-with-strings-attached scenario usually goes something like this: Okay, I’ll give you X, but in return I expect Y from you. That’s fine for a formal, contractual agreement or a gift for a specific purpose previously agreed upon by both sides such as college tuition for your child. However, in more casual giving, it is the control freak’s agenda and is resented by the receiver.
Of course, the potential giver has the choice of not giving in the first place. If you are asked to give and choose not to do so, just say “no” and go about your business. You don’t have to turn your “no” into a lesson, admonition, or verbal manifesto. However, if you do commit to give (once, an extended period, a lifetime), don’t use your promised gift as a power tool, cancelling it if you get mad or don’t get your way. Keep your word, or it will result in the recipient never trusting you again.
If your gift is unconditional, it will benefit both parties so much more than if it is retractable upon your whim. If you give unconditionally to loved ones, the benefit you receive is knowing that you gave out of love or sincerity and not the quest for power. The benefit the recipients get is the same. They know you trust them to make decisions for themselves. Their decisions may not be what you would have chosen, but you’ve shown respect for them which, in the long run, is the much more valuable message.
If you give to strangers (an organized charity, a homeless person on the street, etc.), behave the same. Don’t admonish the street beggars that they must use your handout for food and not alcohol or drugs. Treat them with respect so they can make their own decisions about how to live their lives. Maybe one day someone will give to you in your time of need. Wouldn’t you prefer it be on terms of love and/or respect rather than power and control?
Dealing with Regrets (June 6, 2014)
We all have regrets, some big, some small. However, if we live our lives mired in them, we can never move forward. We must forgive ourselves. If it concerns behavior we did or didn’t do, focus on what we can do now. If it concerns other people, we can only hope that they forgive us. We still have the future where we can atone by being good, kind, loving, giving. If we can’t do it for one because he/she might be gone, the hurt was too deep, etc, then pay it forward and do it for another. In that theme, I have a guest blogger today, my friend Roger Trammell, who presents his blog in the form of a poem.
IT WAS ALL WORTHWHILE
Happy to be
on the down-side
of the drama…
in the Dalai Lama head-space
on the pace
in the race nearly run
with worries few or none
No regrets
but some debts left unpaid.
Atonements made or not,
it’s got to be enough
at this stage of the game
time passing
whence it came…
Memories
used-to-bes
frozen in time…
recalls of falls
and risings
standing talls
and divings into pits
fit for drowning
when crowning achievements
came to the rescue
re emerging
submerging the doubting
and shouting
it was all worthwhile.
Roger Trammel 6-3-2014
Why Do People Criticize Others? (May 16, 2014)
A few years ago, I went on a wonderful, often very rustic trip to Papua New Guinea. After returning, I got together with the man I had been going out with for awhile. I was very excited to show him my photos. As he was looking through them, he stopped at one, held it up to me, and commented, “Well, you certainly don’t look your best.”
Technically, he was right, I guess. I had no makeup on and my hair was in total disarray as I was caught on film climbing out of a dugout canoe on a brackish river. My point here is not the correctness of his statement which, by the way, was the truth as “he” saw it, but the fact that he chose that statement to make among so many others he could have said.
Here are a few possible proclamations he might have opted for: “Gee, what a neat dugout.” “Boy, that looks like it was fun.” “You look tired.” Instead, he chose to trash my looks, albeit subtly–a vulnerable position for anyone.
I knew I looked a mess; he didn’t have to tell me. It’s really hard to look great floating down a river in PNG in a dugout canoe in the hot, humid jungle after having slept in a bare-bones structure with no air conditioning, no electricity, no indoor plumbing (think a hole-in-the-ground outhouse), and in a sleeping bag on the floor under mosquito netting.
I wonder why he chose to make the comment he did. What satisfaction did it bring him? Was he sending me a message that he only liked me when I looked well-groomed and attractive? Was he feeling insecure that he was dating a woman who could look scuzzy sometimes? Those types of statements–subtle put-downs–only serve to put pressure on the receiver: I’m unattractive, unloveable, un(fill in the blank) unless I’m always perfect; I always have to be on.
What I'm advocating here is that you examine your own motives when you criticize someone. If the purpose is to help correct their behavior, appearance, etc. for their benefit, then your commentary might be justified. However, if the purpose is to assuage your own discomfort, maybe that's your problem and not a shortcoming of your chosen reprobate.
Before you throw out potentially hurtful comments, think if a positive response might be more effective than a negative one. Demeaning another person doesn’t only demean them, it demeans you as well. Please forward my blog to anyone who might be interested.
Learning from Animals (April 29, 2014)
I’ve written about animals before. (See “The Therapy of Pets”- January 17, 2014.) Animals are the ultimate stress reducers. Last weekend, I went on a day trip to visit an unusual, animal rescue compound near Solvang, California. They had a variety of animals including miniature donkeys; I never knew such a creature existed. The full-grown mini-donkeys came up to my waist. Then, I bonded with Princess, a Vietnamese Potbellied Pig.
While I was scratching Princess’ belly, currycombing a donkey, or petting a tortoise, I forgot about all my commitments, obligations, must-dos, and everything else in my life that stresses me out.
Many animals are so calm, placid, easy-going, and relaxed. (Those terms may all mean the same, but I couldn’t stop with the descriptors.) When hanging around them, those qualities spill over onto you. That’s why hospitals and other institutions often bring in animals to interact with the occupants; it’s therapeutic. It is so much better, cheaper and has fewer negative consequences than many of the methods people use to reduce stress such as alcohol, prescription medications, illegal drugs, smoking, and excessive caffinated drinks.
Because of the danger to our lives, health and happiness, we must reduce the stress that life hands each of us. One thing I use is exercise. When I’m working on the exercise machines at my gym, I’m concentrating on the workout and not on my stressors. Animals have that same effect on me. Since I don’t have an at-home pet in my life right now, I’m always going up to people walking their dogs to get my “animal hit” for the day. I ask the owner first if I can pet their dog. Afterward, I always thank the dog and the owner for sharing.
Try an “animal hit” whether it be your neighbor’s dog, cat or bird, or a more exotic variety such as Princess. Let their calmness wash over you and accompany you throughout the day. Somehow, it puts in perspective all of the little concerns we think are so important and that we allow to drain so much of our energy.
Getting Cut from the Lineup (April 13, 2014)
Have you ever been cut out of something you were sure was a shoe-in for you like a job promotion, a relationship, or even an appearance on a TV program as happened to me last week? I am one of 60 women profiled in Marlo Thomas’ new book, It Ain’t Over…Till It’s Over, about reinventing ourselves. I was contacted a few weeks ago and told I was one of the subjects chosen to be on the Today Show in a video clip in conjunction with Marlo Thomas’ appearance to discuss her book.
I jumped though all the hoops they asked for with a very short deadline. I taught myself how to make a brief, selfie video on my iPhone. I taught myself how to upload it to a file sharing website as it was too big to email. I searched for some requested photos buried in my desk drawers of myself at my office when I was a probation officer, which I then scanned and emailed. My stress level was way up there as you might imagine.
On the day of the show, I watched only to discover that I had been cut out. I was very upset as well as embarrassed because I had told everyone I knew that I was going to be on the Today Show; posted it on some online, group discussion sites; and blogged about it right here.
After indulging in “poor me” for a while, I was able to put it in perspective and turn it around. What had I gained? Well, there was my photo and a lovely story about me tracing my journey from probation officer to actress in Marlo Thomas’ book; I learned how to take a selfie video for when I might need to do it another time; I learned about file sharing websites; and I got a blog subject out of it.
When something like this happens, we all wallow in self-pity for a while; that’s human nature. But, wallowing for too long is unproductive and destructive. We do have choices; we can choose to move on and get over ourselves. How long it takes is up to us.
The Fear of Being Alone (April 2, 2014)
I always used to be so afraid of being alone. I don’t mean alone for a few hours; I mean alone in life. That fear seeped into my everyday activities and still influences me. How many more decades is that going to continue? I don’t have that many of those left. I must do something now.
I’m sure some of my poor decisions in a few prior relationships stemmed from that fear–better someone than no one. How many people remain in bad, destructive marriages, relationships, or friendships because the alternative, being alone and unloved, seems worse? I did.
I remember in junior high school that if you were seen by classmates outside of school engaged in activities like clothes shopping or going to the movies by yourself, or worse–with your mother, you’d be considered as someone who didn’t have a pal to go with–a loser. A friend recently confirmed that she’d had the same fear and still does.
Now, as a senior, I’ve learned to do many things by myself without a second thought. However, there are still some activities that I avoid if I don’t have a companion. I don’t travel alone; I don’t go to a movie alone; I don’t go to a restaurant alone. I reject those pursuits automatically without consciously thinking about them.
Recently, I wanted to see a movie that all my friends had already seen. I simply told myself that I’d catch it on Netflix, and I moved on to thinking about something else.
I know a lady who travels all over the world by herself. I admire her–envy her. I’d like to be able to do that–just call a travel agent and be done with it. Even though I’m a personable woman and attract people easily, deep down inside I’m afraid that if I travel alone, no one will talk to me; they’ll look at me with pity or scorn because I don’t have someone to be with. On a conscious level, I know that’s ridiculous. On a subconscious level, that old lesson from junior high school still controls me.
I’ve vanquished so many old restraints and blossomed as a result. I want to break some others. How about you?
Ending a Friendship (March 19, 2014)
Have you abruptly terminated a long-time friendship or relationship in sudden anger at something your friend did? Have you had that done to you as was done to me a while ago?
I wonder, was the offending behavior really the felony you imagined, or just a misdemeanor? Maybe your friend unknowingly pushed a button that you’re hardly aware of yourself. Perhaps the action reminded you of something hurtful that someone else did to you in the past. However, just because the behavior was similar, were the motives the same? For example, did your friend stand you up like that other person did because he/she got a better deal, or was it for another reason? Did he do it with malice, or was it without realization that it would hurt you? Did you tell him that his behavior was painful to you and give him a second chance? Or, did you just expect him to read your mind and know?
These are all things we must think about before terminating a long and valuable relationship. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes (both the droppor and the droppee). We have to be more forgiving of each other’s mistakes. On the other hand, if you terminated the friendship because the offense was just one more of a long, established pattern of behavior (or some other motive such as jealousy), then that was a relationship you had been wanting to end but didn’t fully realize it or didn’t know how.
I have described two very different scenarios that resulted in the end of a relationship. Be careful in ending a worthwhile friendship in anger because you might be hurting yourself as much as the one you dropped.
Decompressing in a Compression Age (February 28, 2014)
In my last blog, I wrote about the benefits of solitude. This post piggybacks on those thoughts.
Life is so tumultuous and becomes more so with each so-called advancement. What looks like something that will benefit mankind often turns out to just put more stress on we humble humans that populate it. For example, the automobile has proliferated to the point of almost constant gridlock. Our commute by car now seems as long as by the horse carriage it replaced.
Today’s modern technology makes us more connected, able to work 24/7, able to access more and more data, and on and on. What happens to our slower evolving bodies in the meantime? I like the notion of viewing your body as a house you inhabit, and your well-being depends on how you care for your abode.
So, what do we do with everything bombarding us for our valuable and finite time and attention? We decompress! We must put up a mental gate–a barrier to protect ourselves from the ravages of that avalanche. It’s hard to do; it takes willpower.
How do we turn off that cell phone, computer, or TV which have become addictive and so much a part of our lives? Here are a few ideas: You can make a schedule and allot some quiet time during the day. You can take a vacation to a place off the grid. There aren’t many anymore, but seek them out and remember to leave your technology toys behind. I have a friend who refuses to get a cell phone or computer as she wants to enjoy life without the barrage of technology–smart woman.
Do we really need hundreds of virtual friends on Facebook? Can we give ourselves permission to opt for a slower, gentler journey? Maybe.
The Benefits of Solitude (February 20, 2014)
In great quantities, solitude can be isolating and destructive. However, in small quantities, solitude can be comforting and cleansing.
I always used to fear solitude. It left me alone with my thoughts. It meant that I didn’t have anything to do. It meant that no one wanted to be with me. Now, I find that it replenishes me. It gives me space from the demands of the world–down time.
Solitude enables my creativity. When I’m alone, my mind is free to wander. That’s when I come up with some of my best thoughts. Sometimes, solitude helps when life becomes too overwhelming. During that time, I give myself permission to take a mental vacation. I try hard not to make any big decisions, not to have any conflicts, engage only in non-demanding activities, and just let my mind drift.
Solitude in limited amounts can be refreshing, like sleep. It can help you pace yourself, stop your hectic running, get off the race track for a while. Don’t fear solitude. In controlled amounts, it can be your friend.
We Don't Have Time for Negativity (February 7, 2014)
Do you know anyone or are you someone who is often negative or complains a lot? Now that we’re Baby Boomers or seniors, we don’t have that much time left. Do we really want to spend it mired in contentiousness or bellyaching? If that’s been a lifestyle, it’s hard to change. But, being conscious that you’re like that and morphing into a more positive person can pay dividends.
I have a relative who has raised complaining to an art form. It comes so naturally to her, I’m sure she doesn’t even realize how much she does it and has no idea why people avoid her. It’s sad. She’d love to have more friends, but she’s such a turn-off.
Conversely, I had a group of friends, one of whom had cancer. She would join our various activities whenever possible, working it in between chemotherapy treatments. It seemed to give her a reason to keep going, and she contributed to our good time as much as she could.
I have another friend who has a debilitating disease. She calls me to tell me about a good movie she just watched on her iPad. I love talking to her.
These two women are my role models. Why does negativity come so easily to some? I suspect that people who fall into this category learned at a very early age that doing their “poor me” routine yielded a big payoff–attention. We all crave attention. We engage in all sorts to behaviors, tricks, and pursuits to get it. Being negative or complaining excessively does work for a while until the receiver has had enough and realizes they’re ineffective in helping you overcome your problems, and that all their relationship with you does is bring them down.
If you’ve had a history of a lot of short-term friendships which seem to fizzle out, maybe you’re driving your friends away with negativity or complaining. We all complain or are negative sometimes. I’m talking about those who are compulsive about it. You have a choice in the matter. Upsetting or bad things don’t just happen to you. They happen to all of us. On the other hand, we all have positive experiences, too. Maybe they’re not earth-shaking, but we can let even small, upbeat episodes drive our lives if we choose. Did someone smile at you? Did someone give you a compliment? Talk to your friends about those incidents or maybe about a movie you just watched on your iPad.
The Therapy of Pets (January 18, 2014)
I love animals; a lot of people do. We’ve all heard how therapeutic animals can be for us. Why is that? Here are some words/phrases to describe animals as a general rule: content, calm, hang-loose, loving, go-with-the-flow, devoted, live in the moment. They embody so many of the things that so many of us humans lack or have in short supply. When we need a friend, our pet or someone else’s pet or some horses at a stable or some wild birds are there for us.
I was in a park the other day and chose to sit on the lawn near some migrating geese. I felt calm just watching them as they watched me. Years ago, I hung out with some gentle cows in a field in England. Their curiosity overcame them, and they walked slowly toward me–boxcars on legs. It was special; I still remember it vividly.
I used to be half of a pet therapy team with my dog at a local hospital. We’d visit patients who had requested a dog visit. I’d put Fergie on their bed so they could pet her. The patients loved it, often launching into a discussion about their pet at home that they missed. None ever found the need to mention why they were in the hospital. We were also barraged by staff and visitors.
Once, there was a big, burly patient who looked terrified when he saw Fergie. When I questioned him thinking I had the wrong room, he explained that he’d always been frightened of dogs ever since he was a child and witnessed his best friend being mauled by one. He was amazed when Fergie started licking his hand. “Oh my God, a dog is licking my hand,” was all he could say over and over.
Fergie and I visited him a few more times over the next several weeks. Just before he was to be released, he told me he was planning on getting his own dog. Even if you’re not a pet person, maybe a bird or a tank of fish could bring you some joy. Try it out.
Embrace Your Age, Don't Fight It! (December 26, 2013)
I haven’t blogged for awhile because I had bunion/arthritis surgery on my left big toe and have been recuperating. That really made me feel old. As a younger person, the words “arthritis” and “bunions” were associated only with old people. These days, an old woman has been stalking me. She follows me wherever I go. She also has the audacity to jump into every mirror I look at and mimic my antics. Although she seems vaguely familiar, I don’t know her, and I wish she’d go away.
Yes, “getting old sucks” is the prevailing attitude. It is to be avoided at all costs including pushing ourselves toward age-inappropriate behavior, dress, and the exploding popularity of surgery toward that ever-elusive youth ideal we’ve been sold.
Although I try to fight it, I’m certainly a victim of it. My hearing began to deteriorate a few years ago. However, I resisted even exploring hearing aids; it smacked of being old. I went around missing part of what was being said in conversations, lectures, movies and TV, and, of course, asking people to repeat. When I finally got hearing aids, a whole new world opened up to me.
What a jerk I was, playing the “youth” game. We don’t resist getting glasses as we age because lots of young people wear glasses. However, we’ll shun a cane as we teeter off-balance, chancing a fall and a broken bone. It’s only after the bone is broken, we’re in pain, and we spend months in a nursing home getting daily physical therapy that we admit to “I should have…”
Where did this all come from, this pathological race toward eternal youth? Is it Madison Avenue, Hollywood, what?
It hasn’t always been that way. So many prior and current cultures of the world embrace aging. The elders are the wise of the tribe and are to be respected and emulated. Why can’t we go back to that? The answer is: we can, each in our small way.
We can admit that we tire more easily
and choose not to over-schedule just to keep up with our fictitious, youthful self. We can use hearing aids, canes, low-heeled shoes for women, whatever, and have a better quality of the life left us. No one will hate us for it. No one will shun us for it.
Some years ago, I let my dyed-blond hair color grow out. It wasn’t an easy decision, and I was nervous about it–about looking old. I had been dying my hair since my twenties, and I didn’t even know what color it was naturally. It grew in a snow white.
Skeptical friends started admiring it. Friends and strangers would comment on it in a positive manner. A well-known actress in her sixties with whom I worked in a production for the baby boomer and senior market remarked that I was the only one there without dyed hair, including her.
I was becoming a pace setter to other friends. Some started letting their dyed hair grow out. We have all survived the experience, and no one has ostracized us. We still have a good quality of life and lots of fun.
Once, a friend gave me a left-handed compliment: “Lee Gale, you look so good. Imagine what a knockout you’d be if you had your face lifted.” I felt only sadness for her. My purpose in life is not to be a knockout by the “youth” definition. My purpose is to be as healthy as I can, to embrace life as it is now, and to enjoy it. I don’t have to wear the facade of youth to do so.
The Importance of Friendships (November 26, 2013)
Today I’d like to blog about the importance of friendships. However, before I do, I want to tell you about a website someone mentioned in response to my last blog on Volunteering. It’s called: VolunteerMatch.org. I haven’t used it personally, but you can check it out. Now, on to friendships.
Friendships are important to everyone. However, they’re especially important to Baby Boomers and seniors. It’s all too easy to feel depressed and isolated when we get to that stage of our lives. Friendships will help ease those feelings. Friends will care about you. Friends will share your good times. Friends will help you when you need help. Friends will talk you through hard times and will be there to listen. Sometimes, having a good listener is all we need. And, always remember to be a friend back.
If you’re lucky enough to have long-term friends, don’t ignore them. Remember to cultivate them, even if it’s just an occasional phone call to ask how they’re doing or even an email reminding them that you’re thinking about them. You might not have friends or many friends or enough friends for a variety of reasons such as: you’ve moved to a new location; your old friends have moved away or died; your former friends have found new interests that don’t include you; you were never very good at making friends; and so on.
One way to cultivate new friendships is to attend groups or join organizations. Don’t be afraid to approach someone you meet there; just start talking to them about the group interest or about admiring what they’re wearing or just about anything. People are usually flattered by your interest. Of course, some might not be or might even be rude or ignore you. You won’t know why. Maybe life’s not easy for them, either, or they don’t feel well or don’t hear well.
It’s easy to let an unpleasant encounter deflate you. Try hard not to give up. Move on to another person. Sometimes, when you go to a new group, people already have their cliques. It’s hard to break into an established circle. Keep at it. There are usually some group members who don’t stick to that clan mindset, and you might engage one of them.
I have a friend who relocated to a large retirement community. She found it very cliquish. It took her a few months to start making friends. She was quite discouraged at first, but she kept at it and now has several new buddies.
Seek out special interest activities that attract a lot of people. You might see them posted at such places as senior centers, schools for seniors, libraries, and in senior magazines and online newsletters. Always keep networking by asking neighbors, acquaintances and others about activities they might recommend or have heard of.
If you like outdoors activities, look for local walking or hiking groups. I’m a long-time member of the Sierra Club, and I’ve made many wonderful friends through their activities.
Volunteering (which I blogged about in my last post) is another good way to find friends. If you attend a religious organization, look for their affiliated senior groups. I’ve mentioned meet-up groups in previous blogs. Go online to meetup.com. Look for a group near you which focuses on something that interests you. You’ll meet like-minded people there and possibly make a friend.
One caveat: friendships are fragile, so don’t just make it all about you; you must give as well as take. The opportunities are there. The hard part is motivating yourself to start with the first step. You have to do that, however, to yield results. As I’ve said before: if it’s hard, DO IT ANYWAY!
Idea #6 to Help Baby Boomers and Seniors Find a Passion (Volunteering) (November 6, 2013)
Volunteering is a wonderful way to get involved in an interesting activity and to give back to the community at the same time. Another benefit is that you can make new friends who enjoy the same activity that you do.
There are so many volunteering opportunities available in every community–enough to fit every personality type and comfort level. The secret is to volunteer at something that is interesting and exciting to you. That way, it can become a passion and motivate you to embrace life (a theme I stress repeatedly in my speeches and blogs).
Are you a people-person? If so, then you might choose a pursuit that brings you in contact with humans such as at the help desk at a hospital, museum, police or sheriff department, etc.
I’m a people-person, and I love to perform. I also I love science and animals, and I live close to the world famous La Brea Tar Pits. So, I guide tour groups around the La Brea Tar Pits and inside its concomitant Page Museum. My group talk is like performing a monologue in front of an audience. My group members are all so appreciative, and I love the experience. It’s definitely a win-win for everyone involved. I had to study hard to learn my subject, but I’m passionate about it, and it’s been very rewarding.
Maybe you’re a one-on-one person. My dog and I used to be a pet-therapy team visiting patients at a local hospital. Maybe you’re the reserved, private type. There are lots of behind-the-scenes, volunteer activities. I have a friend who used to volunteer in the “bone room” of the local Natural History Museum sorting ancient animal bones.
Maybe you like children. I have another friend who volunteered in a classroom at a nearby grammar school. Do you like animals? There are lots of volunteer opportunities at local animal shelters or animal rescue organizations. I have another friend who used to be a tour guide at the zoo. If you like art, check out the local art museum.
Here are a few more ideas where you might volunteer: public gardens, local festivals, theaters, aquariums, senior centers, etc. Just drive around your town and see what piques your interest. Then, get on the phone, call them, and ask if they are seeking volunteers. Better yet, go in person. Ask friends, acquaintances, neighbors or the librarian for ideas of where to volunteer. I know it may be difficult, embarrassing or uncomfortable, but as I’ve said before: If it’s hard, do it anyway!
The Role of Humor in Well-being for Baby Boomers and Seniors (October 12, 2013)
Today I’m hosting my first Guest Blogger. She is a new friend, Max Izenberg, who writes the newsletter “Suddenly 65.” Here is her blog:
It occurred to me the other day that many people go through life failing to find the humor in everyday events. And I thought how sad that is, since laughter is so very important to the human condition, especially as the years go by, this can prove to be extremely costly to your health and well-being.
I find that a good belly laugh has an almost cleansing effect on the body – practically medicinal in its quality. Do you remember when you last had a good old fashioned belly laugh where the tears were just rolling down your cheeks? No wonder they call laughter “internal jogging for the body”.
The best thing to do is to find humor in everyday life and it’s out there. You just have to make a conscious effort to look for it. I have a friend who’s a laughter coach and she claims that from the moment you wake up in the morning, you have to make a deliberate effort to look at life through rose colored glasses. And it does help!
And keep in mind that that kind of attitude has a beneficial effect on you because it has been discovered that daily laughter can help lower your blood pressure and reduce inflammation, boost your energy and immune system, diminish pain, and protect you from the damaging effects of anxiety and tension. It’s a powerful antidote to the everyday stresses of daily living.
That famous quote by Abe Lincoln sums it all up and really probably resonates with most people today. He said “With the fearful strain that is on me night and day, if I did not laugh I should die”.
So whoever determined that “Laughter is the best medicine” – maybe they were right on target. On a daily basis try to see the glass as half full and look at life from a humorous angle even though it may be difficult to do so at times. You will be helping yourself in so many beneficial ways. And perhaps the best part of all is that this priceless medicine is fun and free
Max Izenberg publishes the award winning online newsletter for boomers and seniors – suddenly65.com. She describes it as “places to go, things to do, and people to meet.” It is a FREE weekly newsletter full of local resources for those 60+ so they will always be aware of what’s happening in their backyards. You can join and read this weekly senior local resource newsletter by going to the website: www.suddenly65.com and joining the mailing list
Is It Too Late for Baby Boomers and Seniors? (October 5, 2013)
I was at a meeting recently where we were all seniors. We were going around the room each telling a little about ourselves. It was my turn, and I told my story of retiring from my career as a probation officer and becoming an actress, author, and speaker.
The next person was a woman who mentioned she was working at her brother’s law office, but she didn’t sound very excited about it. She said her dream as a young woman had always been to get a college degree. I spoke up: “Why don’t you do it now?”
“Now?” she responded in a shocked and defensive tone.
I dropped that discussion quickly; she obviously didn’t want to hear it.
The woman seemed aloof toward me after my remark. I thought maybe she was jealous. My suggestion that she revisit her youthful dream was apparently the last straw for her. She made it a point not to talk to me during the rest of the event. I think I touched a nerve.
During my speaking engagements, I deliberately touch nerves. I encourage Baby Boomers and seniors to find something to be passionate about as a motivation to embrace life.
Why should we do this at our age? Do it for the challenge of it–the sheer joy of it. Why should we seniors go quietly into the night? There is still plenty of life to be lived. Now is the time to do it! Don’t just take the easy way out–the same boring way out.
You don’t have to follow my path. If you’ve always wanted to try something, do it! You might have to modify it, but see if you can figure out a way to connect with that thing that excites you.
Maybe you can’t become the doctor you’d always wanted to be, but maybe you can volunteer at a medical facility helping patients in some manner. Maybe you can’t go trekking into the jungles after animals, but maybe you can volunteer at an animal shelter.
Don’t just settle. Find a passion!
Try Something New (September 21, 2013)
Life can get stale, just like bread. Try something new. If you don’t like it, don’t run back to the old, boring stuff you’ve always done; try another new thing. Eventually something might grab you.
That’s how I got into acting. I retired from my 37-year career as a probation officer and immediately signed up with the department to work as a retiree on an as-needed basis doing the same thing I’d been doing for years because I didn’t know what else to do in my retirement. Luckily for me, a friend told me about a local senior community program. I saw an acting class listed in the catalog and thought I’d try it, as it was something I had never done in my life–something new.
I know it’s comfortable to stick to the tried and true, both in activities and friends. However, trying something new might open doors for you that you never knew existed.
That acting class changed my life. As a result of just deciding to take a chance on doing something different, I am now an actress, author (I wrote a book about attending that class with my 85-year-old father) and speaker (about the book and about inspiring Baby Boomers and seniors to find a passion as a motivation to embrace life).
Gratitude (September 8, 2013)
I read a self-help book awhile ago called “The Tools,” because a friend raved about it. Those kinds of books are usually not my thing, but I checked it out. It had a lot of interesting things to say, but others didn’t resonate. Rather than ignoring everything because it didn’t all work for me, I chose the things I liked and discarded the rest.
The part I liked best talked about being grateful. I’ve incorporated a few minutes of “gratitude reflection” into my morning back-exercise regimen. I sit back on my heels, take a deep breath, and say out loud: What am I grateful for today? I think of five things and say them out loud. Verbalizing that way helps me focus on them. When my attention strays, I notice that and gently bring it back.
I try to find different gratitudes for each day. They might sound the same as previous ones (example: my son called me last night), but it’s new for today even though it was the same gratitude I verbalized last week after he called.
Doing my daily gratitudes helps me stay positive in my life. I have so many good things and don’t want to spend my senior years focusing on the not-so-good things.
We all have a choice. If you get off on complaining and rehashing each negative, upsetting thing that happens, then go for it. However, if you want to embrace life, stop whining and focus on what makes you grateful.
Idea #5 to Help Baby Boomers and Seniors Find a Passion (Meetup Groups) (July 21, 2013)
Today, I want to discuss meetup groups. Have you heard of meetup.com? It’s a wonderful website. You can find groups near you of people who all share a common interest.
I have a friend who has connected with a meetup group just for going to the movies. I went to a meetup group near my home of people who were interested in speaking Spanish. We met at a restaurant, and we all conversed in Spanish the entire time. People had varying degrees of fluency, but everyone was tolerant and helpful toward everyone else. The ages of the participants also varied greatly. That didn’t matter as we all shared a common interest.
Just google “meetup groups” or put meetup.com into your computer address bar. It’s not hard to do. If you’re not computer literate, ask for help from a friend or relative who is. If you don’t have a computer, the library has computers. You can sign up to use them for free, and the librarian can be helpful in showing you how to get to that website. It’s a great way to connect with others.
I know it’s hard to reach out. Remember my motto: DO IT ANYWAY!
Idea #4 to Help Baby Boomers and Seniors Find a Passion (Genealogy) (June 23, 2013)
Today, in my ongoing discussion of things Baby Boomers and seniors can do to develop a passion as a motivation to embrace life, I’m going to talk about pursuing genealogy. I have a retired friend who has been charting his genealogy and that of his deceased wife. He was able to go back several generations on his own by visiting various websites. Then, he hired a professional to go back even further. My friend has contacted distant relatives he finds, and he travels around the world to meet them and visit old cemeteries where ancestors are buried.
The Mormons are passionate about keeping genealogical records on everyone they can as it corresponds with their religious beliefs. They are very welcoming at all their churches to allow anyone to check their genealogical archives, and there are volunteers there to assist.
You don’t have to be a Mormon to take advantage of their help. Best of all, it is totally free. I visited the Mormon Temple in Los Angeles, CA many years ago and found my mother’s name along with all her parents and siblings in a 1920s census record. She was only five years old. It was very exciting.
Distant family members have found me because someone spent a lot of time pursuing the family genealogy. Is genealogy something you could become passionate about as a motivation to embrace life?
Idea #3 to Help Baby Boomers and Seniors Find a Passion (Singing) (June 10, 2013)
I have a horrible voice and wish I could sing. I think there was a mistake on the drawing board, and someone else ended up with my voice. Maybe it was you.
Have you always loved to sing? Now is your big chance. There are all sorts of singing opportunities for Baby Boomers and seniors. Senior citizen centers have singing classes and groups. Religious institutions of most faiths have choirs.
I know a senior who has gotten great satisfaction singing in a barbershop quartet group for years. Community theaters produce musicals. You don’t have to be the main attraction (unless that appeals to you). You could be in the chorus.
Get on the computer and google something like “singing opportunities in (fill in the name of the town or city where you live.) Or, ask a friend, neighbor or relative. I know it’s intimidating. Remember my motto: Do it anyway!
Idea #2 to Help Baby Boomers and Seniors Find a Passion (Gardening) (June 4, 2013)
It’s so easy to tell someone else to get a life–find something to do. It’s so hard as the recipient of that advice to know where to start. One might secretly ask themselves: What would I even do? Where do I go to do it? Will I look foolish? Will I be rejected?
In my last post on this subject, I suggested looking for classes and senior programs in your community. Today I want to talk about gardening as a pursuit.
A friend, who is a senior, retired a few years ago and turned to her prior hobby of gardening. She is now a member of 2 rose societies, one of which tends the rose garden on the grounds of the Rose Parade headquarters in Pasadena, California. She is always going to some gardening meeting or another, often with plant cuttings in her car trunk. I have contributed cuttings from my own yard to her cause. She has become passionate about this pursuit. It gives her life joy, meaning, and excitement and provides a social outlet, interacting with other devotees.
There is a Cactus and Bromeliad Society in my area. They have club meetings, competitions, and other events. I once got involved for awhile in an organization for carnivorous plants after I was gifted a tropical pitcher plant.
Have you always enjoyed gardening? See if there are any public gardens (flowers, edibles, etc.) where you live and if they’re looking for volunteers. And remember my motto: even if you’re scared, do it anyway!
Get Passionate About Something as a Motivation to Embrace Life (June 2, 2013)
It’s so important to reinvent yourself so you discover and learn new things. It’s a way to get excited about life and want to get out there. I’ve met so many baby boomers and seniors who are bored and depressed. Now that they’ve retired and the kids are grown, they don’t know what to do with themselves.
In my life, I’ve gone from being a mother, wife and career woman (I was a probation officer for 37 years) to becoming an actress and author as a senior. So, I’m going to start blogging about activities you can do to find something to be passionate about–something to make you want to get out of bed, get dressed, get out of the house and embrace life! Today, I’ll talk about classes and senior programs.
There are senior citizen centers and learning-in-retirement programs in just about every neighborhood. They offer wonderful classes, activities, and events. Just ask friends about them or google “senior citizens center in (your city).” Then, find their website or better yet, go in person to see what it looks like.
However you do it, get their Schedule of Classes or their program or whatever they call it. Find a class, event, bus trip, etc. that sounds interesting, sign up, and go to it.
It’s hard walking into a roomful of people where you’re alone and everyone else seems to know each other. Do it anyway! Remember, just about everyone there was where you are at the beginning.
It gets easier the more you do it. HINT: try something you’ve never done in your life. That’s how to grow, expand, and find a new passion in life. That’s what I did, shaking in my shoes at the beginning. I write all about my journey in my new memoir, Adventures with Dad: A Father and Daughter's Journey Through a Senior Acting Class, including the scared, shaking in my shoes part.
I Gave My First Author Talk/Book Signing Event! (May 26, 2013)
I had my first official author talk/book signing event yesterday for my new memoir: Adventures with Dad: A Father and Daughter’s Journey Through a Senior Acting Class. I spoke to a creative writing class in Leisure World, a very large retirement community in Orange County, CA. Although I’ve given talks before about my book, I never had any books to sell and autograph until yesterday. It was just incredible! I never thought in my life that I’d be in such a role.
The audience seemed very receptive to my presentation. Several people bought books. One woman said, “I just have to read this book!” That was real validation. I hope she likes it.
Lee Gale Gruen's Book Has Been Published (May 21, 2013)
My memoir: Adventures with Dad: A Father and Daughter’s Journey Through a Senior Acting Class, has been published! It’s just in time for Father’s Day gifts, as it’s a father/daughter bonding book with a twist; we were both seniors at the time.
I can’t believe it! I first started thinking about writing the book 9 years ago. BTW the book’s font is a little larger for aging eyes.
I am scheduled to give several author talk/book signing events over the next few months. They are listed under “Appearances” on my website: AdventuresWithDadTheBook.com. I will be discussing the contents of my book, why I wrote it, how I got a publisher, anecdotes about my new “second” career as an actress, and how I have reinvented myself in my senior years.
The book can be purchased on Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, my publisher’s website: authormikeink.com, and can be ordered through local book stores.
Why Baby Boomers and Seniors Are Important to Society (May 9, 2013)
This is an article I wrote which was published in the letters-to-the-editor section of a small, local newspaper and also in the retirement newsletter from my former employer, Los Angeles County:
After retiring from my 37-year career as a Probation Officer, I heard about a local program which offered classes for seniors. I was soon enrolled in an acting class, an endeavor I had never pursued in my life. Within a short time, my father, recently widowed, came to class with me. For 3 years we attended weekly, performing in our class showcases twice a year onstage in front of a live audience. It brought joy and purpose to our lives. It helped my father stay happy, healthy and active rather than being a burden on his family and society. It changed my life completely, launching me into an acting career.
I came to realize how vital and valuable senior programs are. I advocate for them whenever possible as I am proof of their benefits. Senior community programs fill the gap for seniors that employment or child rearing used to occupy. They give seniors a purpose, empowering them to take better care of themselves and thus have fewer medical problems. Without a sense of purpose, seniors feel alienated, depressed, and worthless.
The funding for senior programs is being cut because times are hard and the economy is bad. The argument that giving money to senior programs takes money from education of our children is specious. One should have nothing to do with the other. If senior community programs are lumped under a bundle called education, and that argument persists, then transfer them to a new and separately funded category called something like: The Department of Senior Enrichment. Government agencies are looking for ways to save money. Senior programs seem like a perfect target. Why not? What’s so impor