It's all in a word

            Recently a neighbor told me a story about an old man she’d met at a graduation party.

“How old was he?” I asked.

“Old,” she said, “Had to be seventy-five, at least.”

“Oh, you mean he was an old(er) man.”

She looked at me with a blank stare and must have realized that I had to be approaching the age of the man she was telling me about. It was at that moment I decided I would never be “old,” but simply “old(er).” So much young(er) sounding, don’t you think?

 

The word “old” is a word to describe food left too long in the refrigerator. It just doesn’t smell right. Or underwear with holes in it.  Something to throw out.

As I ponder the vast chasm created between these words simply by adding -er, I realize what power the simple suffix holds. After all, who wouldn’t want to be rich(er) rather than just rich, smart(er) rather than smart, or thinn(er) rather than thin. Ah, scratch that last one. I’d settle for just thin since that’s not been an adjective applied to me in too many years to count… But the adding of this mighty mite of a suffix can also have a negative voice too. After all, who would want to be fatt(er) than fat or mean(er) than mean?

Just below that article, I see another headline, "Baby delivered by Atlantic City Policeman." Now there's an age word that conjures all positive images like cuddly and cute. All good unless you happen to be a new parent, then you might add sleepless nights.

I begin thinking of other words that connote ages. Teens, now there's one that definitely has a note of cool to it. Then again, for parents, it probably translates to more sleepless nights. How about middle age? I remember viewing that milestone as the first stumbling block in the world of age descriptors. That term resonated as rather frumpy and indecisive. Looking back, I see it as the approach to the precipice of negative age words.

And now, I’m really feeling unnerved by this whole age quantifier. I decide to check out some of the experts’ views. Erikson, that’s where I’ll start. During my graduate counseling courses he was always my go to guy for a psychosocial theory of development. Each stage of life, he believed, involves a particular task in order to move on to the next stage of life. I consult my number one research tool: Google.

Definitely, a downer. Strange, I think, how as a forty-year old student, I believed he was right on target, totally hitting the bulls eye of life. Now I’m not so sure. I read on and see I’ve reached the eighth stage of development. The point at which I must answer the question,  Did I lead a meaningful life?

 

Wait a minute. I’m still in the midst of that meaningful life, busy trying to do all the things I never had time to do. No time to worry about the past. Maybe lat(er)… I read on and see that according to my former counseling super guru I am also at the final stage, the last step on the stairs, of my earth journey. That sounds so final. And according to Erikson, this stage started at age 65. I don’t let that number get to me, though, because a lot has changed since he developed his thesis sometime in the ‘50’s. 

 

     I continue reading and see my present life task is all about reflecting back on my past life. Well, I have to grudgingly admit he may have a point there. I do find myself thinking about my former experiences from time to time and I know my children and grandchildren get a glazed look in their eyes when I repeat stories they’ve heard a gazillion times. The word “gazillion” is one of their words, not mine. And so, I guess I must admit that I am in that place. Sort of, but not totally. 

But more than I think about my past life, I think of the present and the future with hope for what is ahead. Instead of focusing on reflections of past accomplishments and misdeeds, my efforts include tasks like finding a place to dance—before 11 PM to music I love. And if not, I can always dance in the kitchen with my lov(er), the old(er) man who’s danced with me for the past 50 years.

So, I will continue to grow old(er), but never be old.

  

psychology.about.com/od/psychosocialtheories/a/psychosocial.htm

Yoko and Me

I’ve always been a Beatles fan and after they split up, I continued to follow their separate careers. I confess John Lennon held most of my attention as an individual musician and song writer and the love I saw between Yoko and John fascinated me. I can recall vividly the scene of their 1969 bed-in and the buzz it created. They seemed so carefree to me despite the serious reason behind their gentle form of protest. At the time, I was twenty-nine and nearly drowning in motherhood—four daughters under the age of five. Wistfully, I wondered what it would be like to stay in bed for peace.

Later, I remember my great sadness when this gentle man was killed in 1980. By then, my children were in their teens and doing well, the youngest twelve. At the time, as most of the world did, I grieved for Yoko. Her sadness, I always thought,  reflected in her tight lipped smile in the years after his death.

 Recently, I saw her on television and was struck by a different look. I realized it was in her smile, now a wide open grin. She spoke of her long-envisioned project to connect the world through smiling. “It was hard for me, too,” she said, “After my husband John Lennon passed away, and I tried to smile for my health.”

She suggested we could begin as she did, at first in front of a mirror smiling at ourselves. Initially, Yoko continued, her wide smile felt phony, but the more she practiced, the more natural and real it became. Now she wants the whole world to smile and believes that can lead to peace.

Personally, I’ve always smiled a lot, but after listening to Yoko, I reexamined how I smile. I thought back to an incident in nursing school when I greeted a classmate with my usual wide open smile and a cheerful “good morning” at our 6:30 AM morning inspection. Her response was scathing. “You don’t know how much you depress me every morning with that big smile. It’s way too early for that.” As an impressional nineteen year old, I was stung by her comment stung, and couldn’t help worrying whether others saw me as she did. As a result, I think, I developed a restrained polite business kind of smile, reserving my full on grin for those I knew well.

Yoko inspired me. Yesterday, I gave the sad looking young man pumping my gas a wide sincere smile. “Thanks and have a real good day,” I said. His down turned lips turned up, his shoulders straightened and he gifted me with a full grin. “No problem and you have a great day, too.” As I pulled out of the gas station, I felt my spirit lift.

Yoko's right. Like their bed-in so many years ago,  her smile campaign is an intriguing idea and one that captures our imagination, but this time, unlike the bed in, we can all take part. I know I’ll be better giving my all to every person I meet.

I think you will, too. So give someone a smile today and if you’re alone give it to yourself. I like to think if John Lennon was still here he might add, “Give peace a chance, one smile at a time.”

Stopping the Clock

Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.  William Faulkner                                                         

Whether you work from home or are retired, if you’re like me, you probably find days melt into each other without any break in your daily routine. When I still worked in an office environment, there was a clear divide with my Saturdays and Sundays sacrosanct set apart from the daily, humdrum tasks of the Monday through Friday week.

Time for a change: Will, my significant other, and I decide to take action. No more of this! Taking a pencil, we draw a large “X” through one day of every week for the next several months. This would be our special “take a break” day. No doctor’s appointments or grocery shopping or weed pulling would take precedence of our time out.

We float out ideas—a movie, special, long lunches at those places we never seem to find time to try, window shopping with no clear mission of buying anything unless we feel like it, long walks on the beach and even driving out for an ice cream cone—lots of good stuff that never seems to happen since as John Lennon said so well, “life happens while we’re busy making plans.”

Eliminating reminders of time: No more time to wait; we’re serious about this now. Ready, set, action. One of our ideas is to schedule a day without time—no knowledge of clocks, that is, as William Faulkner suggests. Get up when we wake up, eat when we’re hungry, and let the day unfold as it will. Then, we begin to think of what we’ll need to eliminate from our lives to make time stand still.

Let’s see: no TV, no computer. Mask the clocks, put the watches in a drawer. Okay, we’re all set. No, wait a minute. No cell phone, either. No house phone. It, too, gives us the time. Oops, don’t forget the microwave or the stove.

“Well,” Will reasons, “We can always drive down to the end of our island, walk on that part of the beach where we always find some sea glass. There’s no clocks there.”

“Wait a minute,” I say, “we’ll have to mask the clock in the car the night before.”

We realize that clocks are just about everywhere and very hard to escape. Still, we’re going to do it. Soon! We just need to find time to eliminate all signs of time. Fortunately, we’re feeling pretty confident we’ve identified all the possible spoilers of our plan.

We go out into the garden to ponder and think just when we should give this experiment a try. It’s a sunny May afternoon and we realize we still can’t escape a clock. There sits our sundial blabbing the time….

We giggle and realize what’s most important is not the presence of the clocks in our lives, but how we choose to live within our own time. As Golda Meir said so succinctly, “We must govern the clock, not be governed by it.”

Taking a Leap of Faith

It’s hard to hold onto hope sometimes, to continue to believe life is good when we see so much evidence to the contrary. War, unemployment, violence, and even the lack of common civility can wear us out. Yet this is the time in which we live so it’s important to look forward and not get dragged down by all the bad news we read on the Internet and see on the TV.

 Personally, I’ve always thought myself as an optimist, the possessor of the proverbial half full glass rather than the half empty, but I still sometimes find it hard to be upbeat. And with my winter goal of sending out query letters to literary agents, my usual cheerful view somehow became lost despite the warm Florida sun. Each polite rejection form letter seemed like another weight on my mood and I couldn’t wrap my psyche around enough positive energy to even write a blog entry. Instead, I resorted to sitting in the sun, scribbling some attempts at writing poetry and a mystery, and reading lots of novels.

My mood shift began when I chose a different route through downtown Fort Pierce and saw an amazing sculpture. A man high up on a diving board stood poised to dive into a tree filled with roses.

For the rest of the day I reflected on the significance of this lovely and intriguing piece of art. Such an optimistic image, I thought. Imagine viewing a lovely sight of flowers waiting for you while knowing those beautiful blooms would also hold thorns that might pierce your joy.

The figure is an average sort, a little thick in the waist, perhaps past his prime—an older man and one who wouldn’t jump as a younger person would. No, this man would definitely think before he takes a plunge.

Later, I research the sculpture and discover it’s entitled, “A Leap of Faith,” by a local artist, Pat Cochran. Commissioned in 2009, the statue illustrates the small quaint town’s determination to look forward with optimism rather than surrender to the downturned economy. It’s their symbol for taking a leap of faith by continuing to support the arts and add culture to the downtown and riverfront areas. 

As I reflect about what it means to take a leap of faith, I realize it’s something we face often in our daily lives—both big and small decisions require us to do so. Writing and sharing our  thoughts with others involves taking a leap of faith, a trust that requires moving out of our comfort zone. We sit down at the keyboard or take a pencil in hand and believe the words will come. We write our synopsis and query letter and send it off with hope that just maybe this time, this will be the one that clicks. 

Like the man on the diving board, looking out at all the beautiful albeit possibly hurtful outcomes, without taking that risk, we remain trapped looking at all the possibilities in our lives. The man stands on the edge, but somehow, I have no doubt that he intends to “take the plunge.” And like him, taking that leap of faith doesn’t mean jumping blindly; we, too, must recognize our choices will entail some lovely flowers, but possibly some painful outcomes as well.     

Here’s a few things that you might find helpful when you consider taking a leap of faith:

1.     Listen to your inner voice.

2.     Believe in yourself and your choices.

3.     Seek people who support you.

4.     Face your fears.

5.     Trust you will learn, whatever the outcome.

Most of all, stay upbeat and when in doubt, repeat the encouraging words of John Burroughs, “Leap and the net will appear.”

                                                                                      

 

The Second Time Around

To read a book for the first time is to make an acquaintance with a new friend; to read it for a second time is to meet
an old one. ~Chinese Saying

I'm still a loyal Survivor fan despite the fact the TV format remains much the same with every year’s watching. For me, it’s a little like rereading a book—I learn something new with each read. That analogy between Survivor and books got me thinking. If I had to live on a deserted island for a year, what book would sustain me for that time?

I thought first of the Bible, but suppose that was already part of the survival kit, what else would I take? Multiple titles kept popping into my head.

For this, I definitely needed the input of some fellow avid readers. Here are some of their selections:

Linda, our Island librarian, answered with the quick certitude you would expect from someone lucky enough to spend her working life surrounded by books. The book she would take: Timeline by Michael Crichton. Linda says, “His story illustrates how quantum theory could make time travel possible and sweeps you into the mystery and adventure of the story, while Crichton makes 14^th century daily life come alive.”

Ginger, my firstborn, wasn’t quite as able to narrow her choices down, so she finally claimed two: Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver which she say has so many levels to it that I’m sure I’ve missed some.” Her second pick: a compilation of Maya Angelou’ s writings. “Her melodic voice as I read helps me stay calm and at the same time keeps my brain working. That I would definitely need if I were in a deserted place!”

Mary, a book devotee and regular at our St. Francis Book Group, didn't hesitate. Her quick answer: And the Ladies of the Club, by Helen Santmyer. The story tells the story of two 18 year-olds who belong to a book club and their friendship through happy and difficult times that span 60 yearsthrough their lifetimes. It’s one of those books, Mary adds, that you hate to see end. She also says the author took 35 years to write the book and was in her 80’s when she completed the task!

Alicemarie, leader of my Florida book group, says, “One book??? I may not make it through the year!” But forced to choose, she picked Kitchen Table Wisdom, by Rachel Naomi Rement, M.D., personal stories the author collected while working with people with life-threatening illness. “These stories—some humorous, others gut-wrenching—all provide food for deeper and more expansive thinking about my own life.”—something she would have lots of time to do while on her solitary sojourn.

Gary, a psychologist and one-time restaurateur, thought first and foremost about what it would be like to live on an undisturbed island. Armed with an insatiable curiosity and Exotica, by Alfred B. Graf, he would use his time wisely by learning more about his tropical habitat. “Exotica is the botanist’s bible and will help me identify all the flora on the island.”

Kim, a member of my writing group, also thought bringing a book possibly found on Amazon with a title like, “How to Survive on a Deserted Island,” would be the most sensible. Then again, she decided, it would make for dull bedtime reading. “My poetry books are what I read over and over again.” Any would do, she adds, but the ones she most often opens are The Oxford Book of Short Poems edited by James Michie and P. J. Kavanaugh or Best Remembered Poems, edited by Martin Gardner.

One of the perks in writing this posting was the chance to learn about a few books I haven’t yet read. Still, I’m not any closer to choosing the single book that would be a part of my survival kit.

Send me your suggestions as I need more help! I’ll do a follow up on the topic and promise by then, to stop wavering and come to a conclusion of my own…

Life: One Stitch at a Time

"Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that - one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out out all right like the embroidery."
~ Oliver Wendall Holmes

One of the nicest aspects of sewing, for me, is the way it frees up my mind to muse while still feeling productive. It’s also a great way to “watch” TV! Cross stitch is one of those sewing crafts I love to do. Recently, a friend asked me how I could sit for hours making little X’s on a blank cloth. “There’s more to it than simply making X’s,” I said. “Why, you can learn a lot of what you need to live well just by reading the common cross stitch directions.”

Here’s my version of life seen through the directions for successful cross stitching:

1. Read all the instructions before beginning. Take time to plan before you start anything – whether you’re considering buying a home, changing your job, or even choosing a new insurance policy, check out the fine print. Know as much as you can before making your decision.

2. Bind or tape the edges to prevent fraying. Make sure your emotional edges are bound by the love and support of your family and friends. Then if life threatens to overcome you, you won’t fall apart. Build up your binding by showing your love for others; at the same time, you can be the tape for theirs as well.

3. Sort and label the thread with the corresponding color and symbol. Just like cross stitch, sometimes our life choices get confused. Sometimes, two choices, like the colors of thread seem to blend into each other, creating the illusion that there is little or no difference. Put aside the colors of your choices until another day when fresh light helps you see the fine shades of each.

4. Find the center of the design. Find your center, your core. Get to know who you really are. Turn off your cell phone, take a walk by yourself, learn to meditate. Most importantly, have some time in solitude and quiet so you can get to know your inner self. The you’ll be able to create something beautiful.

5. When your thread becomes twisted, let your needle hang free and allow the yarn to resume its natural state. When life feels too complicated or your anxiety level threatens to ruin your life tapestry, let the pressures go. Come to a stop and let your mind rest. It won’t solve any problems, but your ability to cope will improve.

6. Cross all stitches in the same way. Be consistent in your outlook. Treat others fairly as you wish to be treated so the pattern of your life will be smooth and even.

7. Count and recount as you go. Review your life on a regular basis.. It’s always easier to change course when you do so. While John Lennon says in a song, “life is what happens when you’re busy making plans,” reviewing your direction as it’s happening offers some ability to adjust your trajectory.
8. Small errors in counting do not change the look of the design and shouldn't be given a second thought. Be kind to yourself and don’t judge yourself or others too harshly. We all make mistakes and small errors will not mar the overall pattern of life.

9. Large errors should be carefully taken out without damaging the thread and then restitched. When you make a large misstep, don’t despair. Consider how the damage can be corrected then fix it as best you can. Handled carefully, the problems of life can be managed and the beauty of your life’s design preserved even stronger when patched well.

10. More than enough material is included, provided instructions are carefully followed. This last rule is so important! Eat right, sleep enough, and follow the nine preceding rules. Recognize that you have been given one body to last a lifetime and your psyche has a lot to do with how that body prospers. If you don’t waste your life’s material, hopefully, it should last as long as needed.
Yes, I muse, while I stitch the last rose in a basket of roses, cross stitch offers us a metaphor for all we need to enjoy life plus we are left with gifts we can pass on to others. And besides, it sure beats actually watching TV!

Remembering 9/11

As the tenth anniversary approached, I found myself trying to avoid thinking about that day in 2001. I stopped watching TV several days ago, but this morning I realized I couldn’t simply tune out by not watching. For that day and its anniversaries, however many years pass, will always be sharp and clear in my memory. Many of the tributes say “Never Forget,” but that admonishment is not really needed.

Each of us will always remember in vivid detail where we were and how we were feeling that sunny September morning with all its wonderful promise. I was staying at my daughter, Ginger’s house in North Carolina to care for the children while she was at a business conference in Maryland. My husband, Will, had just returned from walking the kids to the bus stop.

I remember feeling a wonderful sense of the whole day stretched out ahead of the two of us. I took my second cup of coffee into the living room to slowly sip it and watch the “Today” show. When Katie Couric announced a plane had crashed into one of the Towers, I initially believed it was a tragic accident.

But when the second plane hit, I knew. A wave of cold washed over me, taking me back in time to a November day when my neighbor ran from her upstairs apartment shouting that John F. Kennedy had been shot. I held nineteen-month-old Ginger tightly and hurried inside. I felt the same fear and panic then as when I watched the terrible tragedy on 9/11.

And so, I turn on the TV to be a witness for those who died that day, as well as for those who loved them. The empty space in their lives will never be filled, but remembering and sharing that with those who care can help. Throughout it all, the thread of all the brave and unselfish giving throughout that day and the days following weaves a ray of hope. I cry, too.

    We will never forget, but we will go on.