An "exercise" in humiliation?

If I were to draw on a paper what gym does for me, I would make one dot and then I would erase it.

          ~ Elizabeth Berg, Joy School

Gym should be illegal. It's humiliating.

         ~Laurie Halse Anderson, Speak 

Even cute, athletic girls hated these stupid gym suits...

WHY is this child smiling????? The rope is a pointless, agonizing adventure in humiliation... 

     Recently it seems everyone I know is training for an athletic endeavor of some kind or is engaging in some kind of physical activity. The spring weather brings out the need to get out there and move. I can't do much because my foot is still recovering from Achilles tendon surgery and remains in a brace. Running, even long bouts of walking, are still forbidden by the surgeon. I find myself a little envious of those who are out there moving. This will be a surprise to pretty much everyone who knows me... I have never enjoyed participating in sports or in very much at all in the way of strenuous physical excercise. Why?

     Well, after a lot of time recovering from surgery spent sitting with the foot up, I think I know. It all goes back to my early schooling and the dreaded gym class...

     I was always one of the "larger" girls in my grade. Not horribly obese, but large and not very athletic. My feet seemed to be made of lead-- couldn't run fast, couldn't jump, couldn't dance very well. I was surrounded by smaller, thinner kids who could do all of those things much better. Or so it seemed. As a little kid though, I loved recess. I loved playing outside.

     It all started downhill in the fifth grade. That's when the girls and boys were separated in gym, and the girls were given the ugliest gym suits to wear. They were navy blue one piece deals that snapped down the front. We were expected to change into and out of these suits in a locker room in front of all the other girls. That was when the comparisons started and the humiliation began.

     It continued in the class itself. There was that rope. Once a year we were supposed to learn how to climb the stupid thing. I couldn't even get a good enough hold on it to stay attached at the bottom. It was scratchy too. How in the world was I supposed to climb to the gym ceiling and back down? and what was the point of this anyway-- even then I could not fathom myself being in a situation that would require me to climb a rope like this??  Other events were timed events that I was usually one of the last to finish. And then once a year we would have a section on Dance. The girls and boys classes would come together for this one, but since there were always more girls than boys and I was inevitably one of the tallest girls, I spent Dance class paired with other, much shorter girls. And to this day, when my husband and I dance, I try to lead.  Gymnastics? Oiy... I could never do a cartwheel or a forward roll straight... and the "horse" jumping combined everything I was bad at:  running, jumping and being graceful at the end. And I had to do it in front of other girls... Mercifully, at least, the boys were not around.

     None of this seemed to have any bearing on my overall physical fitness. I did not learn to enjoy using my body athletically or becoming stronger by exercise. I did not learn how to stay fit with cardio workouts and resistance training. This was the stuff that would have applied to living a healthy life forever... and not only did I not learn it, but I learned to associate all things related to physical activity with humiliation. As a result, I have spent most of my life avoiding it... As the mother of two sons I should have been out there with them, and instead we had a "house rule" that said:  Mommy does not run. Don't make her run, she'll get grouchy.

     Now, in my advancing years, I want to be stronger and to be able to still enjoy some physical activiity. As a nurse I know that I will be much healthier and live longer if I do. What I am learning is that physical activity can be enjoyable and should be tailored to the individual. Comparing one's self to someone who is vastly more fit and athletic (and thus physically more attractive than I...)  should have no meaning or bearing on my own self image. That is requiring undoing a lifetime of negative feelings about this... and is an ongoing project. I am hopeful that soon the brace will come off my foot and my husband and I can embark together on a mutual effort to get out there and move. Walking is first on the agenda-- we have some great walking trails near us. Wish us luck!!

Jumping life's hurdles!

   Each day is a special gift from God, and while life may not always be fair, you must never allow the pains, hurdles, and handicaps of the moment to poison your attitude and plans for yourself and your future. You can never win when you wear the ugly cloak of self-pity, and the sour sound of whining will certainly frighten away any opportunity for success. Never again. There is a better way.
          ~Og Mandino (American Essayist and Psychologist) 
 

     As I have written about before,  in the last year or so I have been trying to lose weight. I have been quite successful, up to a point. I have about 20 pounds to go, and I simply cannot seem to get them off. I lose a few pounds and then gain them right back. A holiday comes and I go nuts eating food that packs on weight, and spend a month getting back to where I was. And there is always an excuse!

     I have two "diet buddies", my sister and my best friend. We report to one another our successes and failures on a weekly basis, and try to keep each other going. They have both had great success as well-- there is a lot less of us than there used to be!

     However, recently all three of us have been struggling with our "diet mojo" and have put on weight. This has prompted a flurry of emails. We each have our own reasons for our failures, and each of us readily acknowledges that they are merely excuses and we should get back on it. Except we continue to struggle. It dawned on me that we are each facing our own hurdles in life and that we need to look at them like the athletes who run the hurdles do...

     1.  Find a coach or a team to hook up with that will provide you with training, incentive, and the companionship of kindred spirits all working towards a common goal.

     2.  Prepare yourself to tackle the hurdle by making sure you have the right equipment, that you are physically in as good a shape as you can be, and that you have studied the hurdle so you know it well. How high, how close together, what the track surface is, whatever...

     3.  Remember you jump hurdles one at a time, not the entire course of them in one jump. That means that each small hurdle must be tackled before you can finish the race. Trying to leap all the hurdles, or even two at a time, will result in you falling in a big heap on the track!

    4.  When starting to learn a new athletic event, the athlete can be assured s/he will fall or fail at first.  No athlete will win another event if s/he stays wallowing in the previous failure. S/he learns from mistakes, puts more energy and training and work into making him/herself better.

     So... with all this in mind, I move forward to better success in my weight loss quest. And I will look at all hurdles in a new way-- as challenges to make me better.  Life can sure be hard to do well sometimes, but with a little preparation and the right mindset we can each jump over the hurdles in our path.

Earth Day warbling

Those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble forth their curious ditties, with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of art.
          ~Izaak Walton

The yellow-throated warbler!

     One of the great advantages of being retired is that we can take our meals in a leisurely fashion. Our kitchen table sits in a small dinette area with a bay window that looks out into our back yard. It is the perfect place for bird feeders, and when we were married I brought several with me. There are now three feeders set up-- a thistle feeder for the finches and small birds, a large feeder with mixed birdseed for the larger birds, and a feeder that holds two cakes of suet, which they all love.

     I come from a long line of bird watchers. My parents always had feeders in the yard, no matter where they lived, and kept a copy of Roger Tory Peterson's A Field Guide to the Birds within reach. I learned at an early age to identify the birds common to the area I lived in, and also learned to identify their songs. I have vivid memories of my father, who had learned to mimic a cardinal's call, engaging in a "conversation" with one. The cardinal, high in a tree, would call, and Dad would answer. Then the cardinal would call again, and Dad would answer.

     Living in a more rural setting has provided sightings of many more birds, some much less common. We have a resident red-tailed hawk who keeps the yard free of vermin. We witnessed two male flickers fighting for the attention of a much drabber female flicker. We have had pileated woodpeckers pecking bugs from one of our trees. We regularly listen to a pair of owls call to one another in the woods. And when Lanny mows the back grass, he is accompanied by a dozen or so swallows that go after the bugs that get kicked up by the mower. They swoop in front and in back of his mower but follow him as he goes. And we have a bluebird family that lives close by. Late last spring we saw Dad, Mom and two babies at the birdbath in the back yard, all together. Hopefully Mom and Dad will return this year to have another brood. And we have had one potential sighting of a bald eagle cruising up the creek, on the hunt. There have been sightings of eagles on our creek several miles downstream, so we have been hoping we'd see one by us. We still aren't sure that's what it was, and remain optimist we'll see one someday.

     We too keep a copy of Mr. Peterson's bird book by the kitchen table, just in case we see a new bird. The book is filled with hundreds of birds, supposedly all the birds that live or migrate (or might migrate) to east of the Mississippi. Of all those, there are maybe 25 or 30 that we have seen in our yard. So, last evening when a little black, white and yellow bird arrived that we had not seen before, we got pretty excited... Quick! Get the book... we compare the drawings in the book to the bird at the feeder. And behold! What is having dinner at our feeder? It is a yellow-throated warbler!!  I looked up information about this bird today online and discovered it is a mostly southern warbler that has been slowly expanding its range north to include central Indiana. It likes pine trees and poplars, which we have in our woods. So, we're hoping we see more of this little guy...

     If all this rambling about birds means I've become an old lady, forgive me. I find such respit in simple things like watching birds at a feeder. Today is Earth Day, so I celebrate our environment with a tale of birds, bird watching, and the joys of just enjoying the portion of God's earth that we live in.  It is something worth celebrating! Happy Earth Day!

    

    

A Place Full of Life!

“I am fundamentally an optimist. Whether that comes from nature or nurture, I cannot say. Part of being optimistic is keeping one's head pointed toward the sun, one's feet moving forward. There were many dark moments when my faith in humanity was sorely tested, but I would not and could not give myself up to despair. That way lays defeat and death.”

     ~ Nelson Madela, Long Walk to Freedom: Autobiogaphy of Nelson Mandela

     Most of my Facebook friends know my mother has been battling cancer for over 6 years now. She is being treated at the IU Health Indiana Cancer Center on Indy's southside. She recently had surgery, and has been doing very well. Today she went in for a follow up visit with her oncologist-- no planned chemotherapy. I went with her because she still isn't allowed to drive. My independent spirited mother fusses over this-- she is used to just driving herself over there, getting whatever care or treatment is needed, and driving back home. However, we have paired this kind of outing with lunch together at a local restaurant, so we have fun. I do anyway!

     Today the Cancer Center was very, very busy. We knew when we pulled into the full parking lot it was going to be busy. The usual procedure is for Mom to be weighed, labs drawn, then wait in the treatment room until they have an exam room where she speaks to the oncologist. The first stuff-- the weigh-in and lab draws-- were done promptly. Then she and I sat in the treatment room for an hour waiting to speak with the doctor.

     The treatment room is a long, narrow room with one long wall of windows that look out onto an enclosed garden area. There are lots of bird feeders out there and flowering shrubs. Sunlight streams in. It reminds me of the old "day rooms" at the original (now torn down) University Hospital in Ann Arbor where I went to nursing school. The long wall is lined with treatment reclining chairs-- probably 10 or more of them. Usually there are one or two people in them when we get there. Today they were all full except the one right by the main entrance door to the room. Mom sat there and I sat in a nearby visitor's chair. There was a lot of ambient noise, so conversation with Mom was difficult (she suffers from hearing loss-- as do most people her age!) I could only sit quietly and observe. I found myself marveling at the people in there and thought I'd share some of what I saw.

     In about the middle of the room there was an older man in a recliner, sitting way back in the chair. He was hooked up to IV tubing that went through an electric pump to what is called a "port". A port is a device implanted under the skin that allows special IV needles to be stuck into it. It is placed in one of the larger blood vessels in the shoulder area. Having one of these means that the patient does not need to have their veins stuck every time they need blood drawn or an IV infusion begun. It all goes through the port. It also allows chemotherapy drugs that would literally fry the tissue of smaller blood vessels to infuse into a large one and become instantly diluted and thus avoid tissue damage. My mom has one, and it has meant treatment is much more comfortable for her. Anyway, this man had an IV going into his own port, and a second tube was going into his abdomen. He lay in the recliner bare-chested, with both tubes working their "magic" on what is probably some kind of GI cancer. Sitting next to him was an older woman, who I presumed was his wife. They were not talking to one another. The man lay with his eyes closed. The woman sat in silence and dabbed at her eyes. I noticed her eyes were red because she also was wearing way too much eye makeup. It was almost Cleopatra-like with very black thick liner and dark, penciled brows. Mascara ran down her cheeks. She sniffled occasionally, looked a few times at her husband, but mostly just looked off into space. It struck me that this woman was dealing with bigger issues than just the day. Perhaps they had already spoken with the oncologist. Perhaps they had been given bad news. Perhaps she was thinking about something in their past... whatever, it was a hard day for her.

     In the chair next to this couple sat a tiny, older woman. She was very tiny except, oddly, for her feet, which were encased in very large white athletic shoes. Her legs were terribly skinny.  She read a book and occasionally looked up to smile at people. She had an infusion going in the  port in her shoulder too. Later, when it was finished, the nurse disconnected it all and the woman was free to go. It was then that I really noticed the wheelchair for the first time. It was adjacent to her treatment chair. She raised herself up using her thin arms and hoisted herself from one chair to the other.  Once in the chair, she began to push herself toward the front exit. Her nurse stopped to offer help, and pushed the wheelchair toward the front waiting room. I overheard the patient telling the nurse that So-and-so was on her way to pick her up, but it would be awhile. Apparently this tiny, ill, frail woman lived alone and was relying on someone to transport her to and from the center.

     A new patient was ushered past. She was a tall, very young, moon-faced young woman with very thin extra-curly hair. Her moon face was probably due to some kind of steroid treatment, and the thinning hair was no doubt from chemotherapy. She looked to be no older than her mid 20's, perhaps even late teens. She chattered to the nurse as the two of them walked past.

     An elderly couple arrived. He looked quite old, but seemed in good health. She was pushing a wheeled walker, and had a severe osteoporosis hump back. Barely able to look forward, she maneuvered her walker through the chaos of the room to the bathroom. While her husband was waiting on her, a maintenance man from the center greeted him. Apparently they knew one another well. The woman emerged from the bathroom and chatted with this man too. There was some merry laughter and her voice was strong and cheerful-- it belied what her physical appearance suggested. She was escorted to a treatment chair and an IV infusion was started in her port. She chatted and joked with the nurse, much to the amusement of the woman with too much makeup on, who was sitting in a chair next to them. This was the first time I had heard this woman speak, and to see her smile was a bit of a relief to me (I had imagined all kinds of awful things!)  Clearly, this humped old woman was a favorite here, and it was easy to see why. She dispensed cheer like the nurses dispensed chemotherapy!

     Another younger woman, probably mid-40's, walked in alone. She was carrying a stack of magazines, and dumped them in the chair next to my mother. She was off to the bathroom. When she came back, she stopped at the snack area. This area consists of a coffee pot and then two baskets of assorted snacks-- those packages that hold 6 Lorna Doone cookies or peanut butter crackers.  This woman took 3 packs of snacks, and I couldn't help noticing that she talked to herself the whole time she was there. She walked back to her chair, sat down with a plop, fiddled with the magazines, fiddled with her sweater, stood up, walked back to the snack baskets and found something else, returned to her chair and plopped down in it again. Back to the bathroom, talking all the while. I remember thinking "Please... stay away from the coffee! You are too wound up as it is!"  I suspect she was a nervous person anyway, and being where she was exacerbated that a lot.  A nurse returned to take her vital signs and draw some blood. This lady did not have a port, so the nurse had to stick her arm. Since there was to be an IV, the nurse attempted to draw blood from the same vein that would be used for the infusion. It didn't go well, and eventually the nurse got a fellow nurse to help her. I overheard the patient asking for them to avoid her left hand, as that was sore "from last time". I remember thinking how glad I was my mom had a port! Eventually they got the blood drawn and the IV infusing. This woman settled down with her magazines and snacks.

     Eventually they called my mom to an exam room where she had a discussion with the oncologist. We lovingly call him "Dr. B" because he has a foreign eastern European name that is difficult to pronounce. He is an energetic and sincerely optimistic doctor, who has called my mother A Miracle, so we enjoy our discussion with him. Eventually we are allowed to head for home, which in our case means we can head for our favorite lunch hangout.

     Now that I am home here in Avon and my mother is home down in Greenwood, I find myself thinking about all those people we saw today. And all the nurses who were working very hard to treat these patients. I was struck first with the overall optimism I found in this place. Cancer used to be a death sentence. Just the word was whispered rather than said aloud. My mother, The Miracle Patient, has turned her own cancer into a chronic disease that must be dealt with, but not feared. Her optimism is due, in part to her basic optimistic outlook on life. But also, I think, it is due to the oft-verbalized optimism of her physician and to the staff that work at the Cancer Center. They are exceptional! Always smiling, teasing, laughing. They give hugs readily. And on one occasion they listened to my mother when she had to say her favorite curse word (she asked their permission first. It was given... and then they said it too.) The patients I saw today, some in extraordinarily frail shape, all seemed to gather a strength there to get on with their treatment. It didn't matter than hair would fall out or that tubes were sticking out of body places that didn't normally have tubes... the patients and families all seemed to catch the spirit of "let's get this done so I can get on with my life".  What a remarkable gift that is to give to some very needy people! And how proud I am to be a nurse when I see other nurses performing at this level. Thank you to the staff, nurses and Dr. B, of the IU Health Indiana Cancer Center on the southside of Indy.  See you in two weeks!!

This time Goliath wins...

Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense.

          ~Gertrude Stein 

"We're the phone company. We don't care. We don't have to."

          ~Lily Tomlin   

     One of my earliest blogs (see "Desperately Seeking Solitude", January 2012) was about my aversion to the newer technology that makes us each instantly available to one another, and accountable to our workplace at times when we can't be actually at our workplace. I fought for years the battle against Blackberry emailing. 

     Oddly, I find retirement has produced exactly the opposite feeling-- I find I need to communicate more with people, and am enjoying the ability to stop what I'm doing and look something up online. I have watched others use their smart phones in unique and very cool ways, and found myself wanting one. 

     My husband had feelings that matched mine on being instantly accessible, and was a listening ear to my rantings on the subject. He has been a little befuddled by my turn-about. It took me a little time to convince him that we really could use smart phones and enjoy them. The cameras have improved so much! The apps! The GPS! He finally caved in and agreed that yes, we could invest in smart phones. The ones we have now are wearing out (the batteries don't hold a charge very long any more) and since we need to get new phones anyway...

     About three weeks ago we set off on a bright, sunny spring afternoon, to the AT&T store. We decided we wanted Apple iPhones, and AT&T is the only company to use them. We also have our cell phone contract through AT&T.  We had been listening to all the marketing advertisements about iPhones and AT&T plans for using them for months. We had saved our money for purchasing the new phones-- one for each of us.

     We got to the store and were greeted by a very charming "hostess" who put us on a waiting list to chat with a sales rep. There was a big TV screen up on the wall that had a list of those waiting in the order they would be served (it reminded me of taking a number at the BMV...) We were #3. We were invited to look at the iPhone display models while we waited. I eagerly started working with the newest model, just to get a feel for how they worked. Lanny grabbed another one and tried it out too.

     Finally our number came up and a very friendly sales rep came over to us. We told her what we were interested in, and she went to get some information. She reviewed all the various features and asked us a bit about how we were going to use the phones, what other kinds of technology did we use (lap top computer? iPad?), etc. She had the perfect plan for us... so off we went to the cash register to purchase both the phones and the upgraded data plan.

     She got into the computer system and started frowning. Unbelievably, it seems AT&T will not sell us the phones we wanted or the data plan we had chosen because we were not DUE for an upgrade until May. Wait... what? Well, she explained that our plan was for 2 years and while Lanny could upgrade as the plan holder, the others on the plan could not until the full 2 years expired. So, Lanny could get the phone if he wanted but I couldn't. 

     I was speechless. Seriously, it has taken me 3 weeks to wrap my head around this... AT&T and Apple have spent millions of dollars marketing this product to me. I had not wanted it, but had finally succumbed to the idea that instant accessibility to other people and facts online was a good idea. I had the money and was ready to buy. And they won't allow me to buy it? 

     What kind of idiot business plan is that???  

     I am still undecided about whether I will go back in May and purchase the iPhone and data plan. I still want one. I still see and listen to all the ads telling me I want one. But I am averse to doing business with bizarre snobbish corporations who think I am not worthy of their products. A part of me longs for those simpler times when all this technology was science fiction. And another part of me still thinks the iPhone is about the coolest little device ever...

 

A trip down memory lane

It's surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.  

          ~Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams

     This morning I found myself laughing at a shared photo on Facebook:

 It reminded me of some of the bands I had seen perform in my youth, some of whom I doubt many will even remember. I was very lucky to have seen the Beatles perform in Toronto, Canada in 1966, and also The Lovin' Spoonful in 1968. Once at University of Michigan, my access to concerts increased dramatically, and so I was able to see such groups as Mountain and The Ike and Tina Turner Revue. I saw Judy Collins, and the Beach Boys and even met John Denver (a long story...). All of these are etched in my memory...

Felix Pappalardi, along with Lesley West, formed the band Mountain. Very cool, no?

The Ike and Tina Turner Revue. John Denver once said that God receated Tina Turner to show other women how to dance in high heels!

     I got a little nostalgic for that time in my life, seeing it through the proverbial rose-colored glasses. I found an excellent website for anyone who would care to take a walk down a baby boomer's memory lane:  http://www.mikanet.com/museum/index.php

     In the meantime, I copied and pasted some of the things that sparked my own memories and have included them below for your viewing pleasure. If you are old like me you should recognize them instantly. If you are much younger, it may be hard to relate to them, but it will serve to show you how different life was for us Boomers!

The original Pong arcade game was introduced in 1972. I remember seeing these at the local mall-- 3 games for 25 cents!

These signs appeared in public buildings. We had them at our elementary school, and regularly practiced "air raid" drills. The Cold War was a very scary reality!

Gas stations and other stores gave out Green Stamps when you bought their merchandise. You put them in books and redeemed them at S&H centers for more merchandise. I remember my parents got their first electric blanket with Green Stamps!

If you wanted a copy of something you had to use carbon paper!

I learned my "keyboarding" skills on a Royal manual typewriter in high school Typing I class. I was in an elite group in college who had an electric typewriter to type my papers on. No errors allowed... thank goodness for "erasable" typing paper!

This is a slide rule. It was used in advanced math classes to figure sine, cosine, tangents and cotangets. Also square roots. No calculators... My father, an engineer, kept one of these in his shirt pocket while at work.

My sister and I got this game one year for Christmas and LOVED IT!

Old mainframe computers did not have keyboards... they used these cards. The cards had to be punched by a keypunch operator, stacked in the correct order, and then fed into the gigantic machine.

This is a rotary telephone. It was considered the property of the telephone company. We had only one-- people who had more than one when I was a kid were considered rich. When in high school, if a boy called me up I had to talk to him in front of the entire family...

Water beds were introduced when I was in college. Kids in the dorm would get twin-sized ones. I remember at the end of the spring semester, hoses sticking out of dorm windows all over the place as they emptied out the water bed to go back home for the summer. I only slept one night on a water bed -- tried out a friend in the dorm's when she was away-- and didn't like it at all-- the wave action every time I turned over kept me awake, and the girl who had it didn't have a heater for it so I froze.

A transistor radio allowed me to listen to my favorite AM radio station any time! I used to take it to bed and listen with an earphone late at night-- I could get the far away WBZ from Boston, my absolute favorite station at the time.

A black and white cabinet TV... what I watched Captain Kangaroo on!

I received a portable record player for my 13th birthday and started collecting records... some were 33 1/3 rpm LP's and a lot were 45 rpm single tune per side records. I sure wish I had them now!

The era of processed foods began... Tang was considered a very modern beverage. I hated the stuff...

Yes!   a postage stamp cost 3 cents!!!

This was a cultural icon of the early 70's... had a great home made yogurt recipe!

If you have never heard of Firesign Theatre, look them up online. They were just hilarious...

It's a Tradition!!

Family traditions counter alienation and confusion. They help us define who we are; they provide something steady, reliable and safe in a confusing world.
       ~ Susan Lieberman

     This past weekend was Easter. I was struck this morning by how many photos had been posted by various people on Facebook showing children hunting outside for eggs. From the front lawn of the White House to my own front yard, egg hunts with children were held all over. It has become a part of how we celebrate Easter. The symbolism of the egg, and the "new life" it represents, fits well with the Christian Easter message.

My grandson Sam, age 2, hunting Easter eggs

My grandson Will, age 1, hunting Easter eggs

My granddaughter Addie, age "almost 4", hunting Easter eggs

     I looked up Easter traditions online this morning and found that coloring eggs goes way back, originating in the Alsace region of Germany, which is now included as a part of France. Eggs were dyed with natural colors such as boiling them with onion skins, and the resulting colors were seen as representing the colors of spring. Rabbits and hares breed easily and often, and as such were seen as symbols of both fertility and new life. The Easter Bunny is a way of including that symbolism into the holiday and dates back into the 1600's. There is also some reference to pagan celebrations by those wacky Saxons in northern Europe, who had a tradition dating back to the second century BC of celebrating a festival in honor of their goddess of fertility and spring, Eastre. Early Christian missionaries to the region incorporated some of the pagan customs into a new celebration of the resurrection of Christ. Thus, the Easter Bunny hiding colored eggs!

     This all got me thinking about all the traditions of our holidays. Everything from birthday cakes with candles to green beer on St. Patrick's Day to fireworks on the 4th of July to all the traditions of Christmas and Hanukkah. I love them all... and have tended to go overboard with them in my own family. But there is a reason I do it-- tradition within a family brings a sense of belonging and stability to that family. My boys, as children, knew exactly what would happen for each holiday. They knew that when they got up on St. Patrick's Day there would be green sugar in the sugar bowl and green milk in the refrigerator. They knew we would have oyster stew on Christmas Eve. They knew we would have a decorated cake with candles on it for their birthday celebration. And they loved it. I have seen them copy some of our traditions in their own families. And incorporated new traditions brought by their wives or created new traditions within their homes. And they still come back looking for Mom's traditions here... which warms my heart!

     Tradition has also been given a bit of a bad reputation, and has been seen as a stumbling block to personal growth and freedom. We have felt the pain of breaking traditional roles for gender and race. Being seen as "different", no matter what the reason, can be very painful indeed. Following tradition for its own sake can stifle creativity and innovation.  And what of those who don't have groups that include them in holiday traditions... those who have lost that sense of belonging to a family? Being on the outside on a holiday can be a very lonely experience.

     Here is what I think:  I think that following traditions is a good thing if it creates a sense of belonging and love. If it helps build a link between generations within a family, and that family feels closer because of it, that's a good thing. If the traditions bring a child security as well, that's even better. Creating new traditions to fit new families or new circumstances is a good thing too. Celebrations can bring us together and that is a good thing!

  


    

Challenges of retirement

One's life has value so long as one attributes value to the life of others, by means of love, friendship, indignation and compassion.
     ~ Simone de Beauvoir 


     After 37 years of working in various roles as a registered nurse, I retired a little over a year ago. At the time I was the director of a small obstetrics department at a local hospital, where I oversaw the operations of the unit and supervised over 80 nursing staff. That job was wonderful-- I loved it. The hospital was new when I started there-- in fact, I started before the building construction was complete. I was given the task of making sure the OB department had all the equipment, supplies and the right amount of staff to function, as well as the policies and procedures to keep it up to date and safe for our patients. The job was at times overwhelmingly huge. I led the department for 6 years until I retired.

The original OB staff at Clarian West (now IU Health West).

That's me in the upper right corner.

     Going from a high-stress job, where I was literally on-call 24/7 and kept a pager with me at all times, to retirement has been a blessing and a challenge. Initially, the absence of that unremitting stress was so profound all I could do was sleep. My husband joked that he never saw me the first 3 months I was retired because all I did was sleep.

     I did "wake up" eventually,  and set about on the second phase of my retirement-- hobbies!  I started knitting with a passion, attended a knitters' convention in Atlanta (who knew?) and joining a weekly knitting group at a local yarn shop. I put in a vegetable garden last year for the first time in my life and harvested some delicious tomatoes and peppers. I got busy... only to be felled by a major illness last summer. Mononucleosis, for heaven's sake... and it took me till fall to get my stamina back. Then I started with the ankle pain that eventually led to Achilles tendon surgery, which laid me up over this past winter. 

     With spring arriving, my foot is on the mend, finally. I am recovered from the stress of my old job, and now my husband Lanny has retired too. We had planned for this since our marriage, scheming on how to get the house paid off, how to save enough, how we would spend our days once retired, where we would travel to, and on and on... It is the fulfillment of a dream. We consider ourselves to be among the luckiest of people on the planet.

Here is my husband at his desk at IPL. Please note all the computers-- he had to use them all at the same time!

     With all of the wonder and excitement of this new phase though, I am finding I struggle a little with the idea of being relevant. When I was at work, I made important decisions that impacted a lot of people every day. When I walked the halls of the hospital, people knew who I was and held me in some regard. The CEO of our hospital and the big boss, the CEO of the network, both knew me by name. When I spoke at meetings, people listened. 

     Fast forward to dinner now where both Lanny and I are sitting together, tired from a day of staying busy. I can say something I think might be profound, and his head is a million miles away. Or, he may totally disagree with my opinion.  Or, neither of us can think of anything profound at all, and we banter about the birds at the feeder or the weather like a couple of strangers. And I used to be surrounded by people, meeting new people literally every day at work.  Now, sometimes unless I go to the grocery store I may never see another person besides my husband.  I love him, oh yes. But sometimes I feel isolated. For someone who enjoyed "being somebody" at work, how do I maintain a sense of fulfillment of purpose and relevancy?

     The challenge that has developed is that Lanny is back in the early second phase of his retirement. He just recently "woke up" from his first phase of sleeping all the time, and has set to building and stocking a new workshop for his hobbies of old cars and "puttering".  He is up at night planning in his head how to place the workbench just so, and has become a regular at the local hardware store. I have thoroughly enjoyed seeing his smiling face as he heads to the workshop whistling, a million plans in his head. Finally stress-free from his own work life, he has relaxed enough to enjoy this longed for hobby.

     I am still knitting and gardening, but am finding a need for something more. I suspect over time, as Lanny finishes up some of his first projects in that workshop, he too will begin to need more.  I am not sure we expected this... and we will have to work on finding our own answers.  But doing it in accord with the other.  And of course, we will still have our mutual interests-- friends, family, traveling, and enjoying each other's company. That last one has been the thing that has gotten us through some rather tough moments... It is nice to know we still enjoy each other as much or more than we did in those early days! 

A day spent doing what we love best-- wandering the backroads of Indiana in the Mustang...

     So, what is the lesson in all this? I must admit I did not expect to find retirement a challenge... How hard can it be to not work???  The lesson is, that as a social being and as someone who worked in a service role for all of my adult life, being social and serving is a part of who I am that cannot be denied. Retirement does not always fulfill those needs. I must find ways to do that, and still make sure I have plenty of time to spend with my beloved husband. I must figure out how to keep old friends, make new ones, and still serve mankind in some capacity.  While I think on all this, I'd love to share a meal with a friend... let's meet for dinner or lunch!  Seriously. Give me a call or email me...



    

Second chance at life and love!

Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending. 

          -Carl Bard

     Yesterday evening Lanny and I were sitting on our bed watching some TV when the date was mentioned for some reason and it hit me. It was the wedding anniversary of my first marriage. I had totally forgotten.  Wow... how times have changed! I didn't think much more about it last night, but this morning I am full of thoughts.

     Of course there are the memories of that event for me and of the person involved. These are always bitter sweet, sometimes more bitter, sometimes even now a little sweet. I was only 23, so young, so mindless.

     That marriage produced two wonderful sons and lasted a good long while. I did not want it to end when it did as the breakup of the family tore at this mother's heart to the point of breaking it. The loss of a spouse was very hard, but the loss of a family was inconceivable to me. That I would participate in the losing of it was unthinkable.

     Without going into all the angst and reasons for the split, I will also say that it was by far the most painful thing I have experienced. It sucked joy and happiness like a black hole... nothing looked or felt or tasted or sounded the same after that for a long time. My confidence at every level was shattered. And I was lonely. Bone chillingly lonely. Stir crazy lonely.

     That time in my life is very painful to remember, but it provided me with a perspective and self-awareness that I do not believe I would otherwise have had. To experience emotional pain at that level makes one so much wiser! Of course I cannot say that I completely understand someone else's painful life events, but I can say I have experienced one of my own. So, when a friend loses a spouse, or is in the middle of a divorce,  I have a much better understanding of what they are feeling. Not the same thing - it can't be. But I have known my own pain and it makes a difference.

A photo of me and my boys taken during this very difficult time. You can see the stress on our faces, I think.

     Looking back now though, the wisdom of the split is what has outlasted the pain. I can see that former life in a little more perspective and it was not happy. It took huge effort on my part to begin to move forward again, but this time I did it a much wiser woman than that 23 year old was. And slowly, the sadness, loss of self-confidence and loneliness receded. I emerged with more confidence than I ever had, and created my own world of friends.

     Staying "stuck" in that pain was not an option. I had to change my life. I knew I would go mad if I stayed angry and lonely. I set to work on myself through some counseling, and I made some new friends. I set out on my own, taking two vacations-- one with my best friend on a cruise ship and one alone after a nursing conference in my car. Eventually I started to socialize with men again and met the wonderful person I am now married to. This time I moved forward into a marriage as a much wiser woman, and I have never regretted that choice a single moment. There is joy aplenty now... so much that my heart overflows at times. I am sure my sons still miss that cohesive family unit that was lost, but they have moved on to create families of their own.

     I tell this painful story for several reasons. First, because it is a part of who I am. Any time I reveal that I am in a second marriage that is only 7 years old, there is a curiosity shown about what must have happened. And second, I tell it because I know there are plenty of people out there who are in the middle of painful episodes in their own lives. I want them to know that if you endure, and pay attention, you will emerge from it wiser, but hopefully with more confidence. And you can move forward to new happiness and joy. You have to do the work of recovering, but if you do, the rewards are worth the pain.

This is Lanny and I on an early date-- what a difference a little time, a lot of hard self-reflection and work makes! It was worth the pain...

This explains everything!

     For those of you who check my blog once in awhile, you have probably noticed I haven't written anything in quite awhile. I apologize and would like to offer an explanation.

     About two weeks ago Lanny bought his usual single Hoosier Lotto ticket and single Powerball ticket at the local convenience store. He won 2 dollars on the Lotto ticket. So, he pocketed one dollar and bought another Lotto. This one won him a free ticket. Feeling lucky, he came home and handed it to me. "Here's our new retirement plan!" he said. I didn't think much about it and set it aside. Two days later, Lanny asked me where the ticket was. It seems the big winner had bought the ticket from our convenience store.

     Those who know me well know what a mess our office is. A complete disheveled nightmare. I wasn't sure, but I thought I had put the ticket on his office chair, because there literally wasn't room on either desk. Of course it wasn't there. Well, it had to be somewhere, so I looked around a bit. Nothing. Did it fall on the floor and get kicked under the desk? Down on my hands and knees I went, snooped around under the desks. I found a gum wrapper, a few paper clips, the box of printer paper. But no lottery ticket. "This is stupid" I thought... we were not the kind of people who win big lottery amounts, and since I was still in my boot from the foot surgery all this groveling around was hurting.

     Lanny, however, was pretty determined, and he snooped around some. Still no lottery ticket. Both of us were hungry at the time, so eventually the search was abandoned in favor of lunch.   I had some other projects I was planning on working on that day, as did Lanny, so after lunch and a quick clean up we both went off in opposite directions. Lanny had a sixth sense about this ticket though, and later that evening he asked me again.

     This time, I remembered. I had put it in a purse that was hanging on my desk chair, mostly because it had an outside pocket. And then I remembered... that purse had been set aside in the office in preparation for taking it to the consignment store. I had been taking some of my better work clothes (no longer needed since retirement!) over to a local consignment shop, and the lady there had encouraged me to bring in any purses I had that were in good shape. This purse, a Coach bag, had been hanging in my closet for years, and I had decided to sell it. I had taken it over to the shop the day before... the ticket was gone!

     You guessed it. The purse, being a well-known designer purse, sold almost immediately. I drove to the consignment shop to see if I could just retrieve the ticket. "Good news!" the owner said. "I sold that purse for you this morning!"

     We waited for the announcement and, sure enough, it came... the winner of all those millions had found the winning ticket in a purse she had bought in a consignment shop.

     The Powerball ticket was a bust.
    
     We have been sick ever since...

     Oh... and one more thing...



APRIL FOOLS!