From This Crotchety Old, "Almost" Senior Citizen

I'm not a senior citizen yet, but I am constantly treated like one. I'm out there in the year 2009 looking for a career change, a job that is - but it's hard for people over 50 to find anything akin to meaningful work and I get frustrated easily some days. The jobs seem to be only for greeters or cashiers but rarely for what I did for a living which was and is writing. I could be angry I suppose, or even frustrated but all in all I think I'm taking it pretty well - for now. You see I had the best of examples on how to handle any difficult situation when I was growing up.

Like me, my grandmother was told be the society she lived in that older women, "Didn't do those sorts of things!" but she did and relished being considered a rebel in her day. She certainly did not take being shoved into a category like old age lightly, in fact you might say that on that subject she was more than a bit defiant! From the time she turned fifty to well into her ninetieth year she found a way to make her mark and enjoy thumbing her nose at the boxes that society continually created for the older citizens in society.

Her real challenging the system began when she took up platform diving in her fifth decade. Her instructor thought she was totally crazy I'm sure, but admired her enough to call our local newspaper the Chronicle who sent out a reporter to see and interview this strange phenomenon of an old woman. After that every decade when my grandmother challenged herself to stretch beyond the walls of what was the box called old age she ended up as a major story for our family. People shook their heads I'm sure and wondered at the impropriety of this totally strange person.

From snowshoeing to cross country skiing she never ceased to amaze us all, and I as grew up I really came to appreciate her strength and wisdom in challenging the rules set by our society especially in the her senior years during the late 50s and early 60s. To we grandchildren, she became a person to be extremely proud to be related to, and for me especially she was a special gift as she continued time and again to be a strong example of what women really were suppose to be in life - strong, challenging the norm, and being totally themselves.

So if I think about getting frustrated today when I can't find a job, or seem to be unable to create a place for myself in today's workforce, I close my eyes and imagine that broad grin on my Grandmother's face as she again plunged into something totally out of that senior citizen mold. She took on her life daily with a most delightful enthusiasm and for that model of womanhood I will forever be thankful.

I will always enjoy working at filling those wonderful shoes and fulfilling the gift she gave me to pass it on to the next group of girls and women in my life - my granddaughters.

What is Your Life's Mission?

What do you believe in passionately? What is a thought or idea that you would stand up for even to a best friend or parent? These are two questions that I think many of of us never take time to consider, these days. Careers, jobs, families, and fun are what we live for...vacations and relaxation are the focus when work and responsibilities are on hiatus. That was true for me for many years until I started to really face who I was. As a young person I had a passion for those who had no one in their corner, those who were different and often picked on or ignored in our society.

Until just recently I didn't see it as a real passion until one single incident brought such clarity to who I really was that I started researching as many essays and writings on kindness that I could find. And what I discovered was there are hundreds and hundreds of them many of them by those who we might know as important figures in our world and history. I was certainly surprised as to the total focus on what seemed such a simple concept. I began to really examine what my own personal raison d'etre, might be. It just seemed to me that we run, or stumble through much of life just doing things day in and day out without having a center or reason why we do anything.

Many people over the centuries and throughout the world have given their children special names that spoke to who they wanted their children to be as they grew into adults. That meaning for a given name often was a lofty aspiration that over the years was to become a personal mantle that became the center of that individual's life. I have chosen a purpose just recently for my life from now on. It's a simple idea, but I think Henry James expressed it the best when he said, "Three things in human life are important. The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. The third is to be kind."

We have way too many angry people in our world, people who hurt and belittle, or to whom the idea road rage, or any kind of rage in general is a constant mantra. Life is not simply to create wealth, or get ahead and leave a financial legacy for our families. But, it is to leave a real inheritance for those we touch every day, one that is centered in who we are to our very core. It often is thought of as patience, faithfulness, or even goodness but the best word that conveys the concept is simply kindness.

I have a long way to go to get past my own impatience and anger. Daily I still do and say things that I regret later. Though I have to admit I see the huge and gaping need for that kind of "gift" more and more in our every day lives. I'm not sure if I can pull of this major change. This kind of change can be a real challenge, but with so much hurt here it is an idea who's time has come - and it needs to be more than just a fleeting thought.

Flowers in Spring

Spring. For me means so many different things, but the thought, the picture that stays in my mind when I imagine spring after a long winter it is the first sight of a crocus or daffodil - that is spring's real statement of new life which is a totally new beginning.

Spring can be wonderfully gaudy in those new beginnings, or like when it first begins can be delicate and pastel and simple. Unlike the profusion of life in summer, spring can actually have many faces, and all new starts for that year's new season.

My paternal grandmother as she aged made a celebration of each decade of her life by doing something out of the ordinary for an "old" person. One decade she took up diving, one she took up snowshoeing but whatever she took on, she challenged herself to physically and mentally stretch. In her later years golf was one of those challenges and she always read volumes to keep up on an ever changing world. This seemed to her to be the way to the real fountain of youth.

I have taken up that same challenge - but in my own way. From this day forward I will try to find something new and lovely about life and myself with each new spring. I certainly won't wait for a new decade since I want to cherish all that I have in this life of mine. Like the flowers every spring I will stretch to touch those different and new things and embrace them.

Grandma C, here's to you and your every growing love for new beginnings!!

Super Tuesday

Politics can drive you crazy. Especially during the craziness of a presidental campaign. I don't believe in politicians because no matter how hard they've tried there are lies in what they offer to those who vote. It's all for the love of the vote for them. Any promise, any baby to kiss all for the next vote - the next numbers gain.

For me the past presidential elections have either been voting for the lessor of two evils, or who can I write in here because I can't vote for either candidate. I know I'm rare here, and I'm not afraid to say that, but for someone who feels she should vote it can be a trying time. I know that power corrupts even the best of men or women and I've seen what a heady froth of power can do to those who have little self control, in fact we all have.

What's really special is super Wednesday, and the day after the November election when thing settle back down and maybe the frustrations of those who were driven by one candidate or another can settle a bit. I'm for the quieter news day, you know the one where there is simply war, pestilence...and peace.

Relatives...

Visiting relatives...Hmmm. Mostly not a looked forward to event, right? Well I have just expereinced the opposite and I had a great time! The weather was hot, humid and wet! Oh, and I had a ball!

So what made the trip so grand? The person I visited, definitely made a difference! The weather was way to hot, but we did fun things together.

So what makes a visit liveable? More than anything, it is the people you visit - in my opinion!

Writing and More Writing!

What makes a blog important enough to make it to the best of the best, or the most evocative, or even the most interesting? Is it the content or how the author creates the string of words that complete the thought within what is written? Questions, questions, questions...as a writer I have had to look at what is interesting in what I read and what I write. I think on most blog pages it's how far can you go in anger or word use not in what is actually said. Does that mean that a theological treatise or anything else academic is better? Heavens NO! The other end of the scale can be just as frustrating as those that try to shock us. So what makes something a good piece of writing? In my opinion well thought out and developed ideas that take you from an idea to a conclusion of some kind. A piece that has an interesting way of grabbing attention at the beginning and holding it throughout with humor or using a different way of presenting ideas can capture and hold a reader's interest.

For me, someone who is well informed and not simply angry gives me a reason to continue to read on in any piece of writing. Some of the best writings that I've experienced have often been to persuade me to change an opinion or idea that I hold. It doesn't always make me change, but it does always make me re-examine what I believe and that is what a good persuasive piece of writing should do.

Without humor or something that catches you off guard most writing has little to peak my interest. An example for me is a very well know writer of literature who has a good way of taking you in circles with her descriptions but leaves you hanging as to a purpose for the piece, or simply a story line that will take the reader into a piece. Though wonderful at taking a reader into the character the author seems to be going in circles as to what they are saying or why. Every author has a purpose; a reason for writing. Many of us do it to blow off steam or tell of wrongs done in our world. How many of us write to tell of someone or something that has touched us in our days?

A good writer is not always grammatically correct, but they are always true to the characters, or ideas that hold their own interest. I'm a writer because I love to see where my ideas are going on a page, and always they grow like children on my page. That's like life. Each day they grow, and change with each telling. Not because we're changing them, but often because as we contemplate what happened from our own perspectives more information comes to light. We each have our own truths and they become what we believe. That occurs through what happens in our lives. As for me...I may not be a Hemmingway, or Faulkner but I too must write. It is for me simply a way of thinking and communicating.

Fall in My Garden

This cooler weather is inspiring for me. I often sit on the patio and enjoy most mornings, now. The birds are flocking and along the fence every morning there is a line of sparrows waiting their turn to dip and drink from our bird bath. It reminds me of kids waiting for the bathroom.

Though the garden isn't as pretty as in the spring and early summer some flowers are still blossoming. The cosmos look great, and the asters are beginning to bloom. But I must admit there is much in the garden that looks quite ragged. But that too gives a beauty of its own. The tall brown stems of long dead lilies are now the perches for the goldfinches and sparrows.

The sweet autumn clematis is beginning at the very top to break out in lovely small white blossoms. It covers the trellis at the back of the garden and has often been called the garden "ice cream cone" by neighbors because the blossoms seem to balloon from the top down. There the littlest of my garden birds congregate under the leaves and flowers safe from the local cooper's hawk as it makes its daily pass over the yard.

The fall can be so restive and quiet here in my garden world. It's truly a place to escape as the days speed by. Here I can almost stop my world and take time to inhale the garden that nature creates all around me.

What Makes A Home?

What would you miss the most about where you live if you went on an extended vacation, or moved to another place? My husband and I spent a long weekend in Chicago and the thought crossed my mind on the way home on the train. What is my favorite thing, person, etc. that would make it hard to leave?

One such "thing" for me has to be having my grand kids around. Being able to call them and just go visit at any time is a huge plus! But what is the most important thing for me that means "home?" Each of us has that little something that has to be there to make any place a home. Sometimes it's a special cup, or picture, it totally depends on what you treasure.

When many refugees moved to the United States after WWI and WWII they came with the shirts on their backs - literally, so the those little items that meant family, safety and love were even more important. Sometimes they brought a menorah, a special baking dish, or even a cup and saucer. For many of us home means something passed down through the years, and for me it is a painting that I remember sitting on the couch and figuratively crawling into to escape. The picture was of an old school house that seems to be just over the hill. You can see a steeple and the fall leaves on all the surrounding trees. I could feel the crunch of leaves under foot, and when I was young it meant a needed escape from much of my every day life.

The painting became mine after a family member died and since then has been on the wall shedding its "light" on all family occasions in our home. That special item can actually became a part of the family. It can become a memory, or even that warm fuzzy which you have come to rely on to make that small apartment, farm house, or cottage truly a home.

Hey, Look at Me! I'm a Grandma!

I love being a grandmother. Okay, everyone is trying to always be "young," but I don't want to be any age other than the one I am. I have never had so much fun in my life! With my own kids I was Mom. Now, I get to be a play partner, a reader, and someone who loves to tell story after story! I can be silly and play all I want to, and that is the best gift I have ever received.

I survived my kids, three rowdy, and hyper-active boys. It wasn't always fun, but I have great memories and pictures in my mind of each at various times through their first years. Teenagers are another thing all together, though. But I loved them - even through a lot of impossible times. But with my grand kids, it is so different!

I love being grammy...I love being a kid right along with my four, very special "grand"children.

Telling History

"Without stories there is nothing. Stories are the world's memory. The past is erased without stories." Chaim Potok

Without a good story, history is not as interesting. Before the written histories there were "story tellers"– those who would tell their stories around camp fires to give people a knowledge of who they were from the mighty warriors to those who were the examples for our cultural morality. They learned the trade in youth through listening and repeating the tales of those who came before. They followed those older tellers of tales around memorizing the narratives of people and events to be totally accurate and thoroughly precise in their accounts - word for word in fact! Having a history right defined their job and who they were.

Any good storyteller was expressive to create an image that explained and often held their listeners spell bound. Most of those around the fire also learned those stories well. The tales were heard over and over again - always with the facts, but continuously told with enthusiasm and an abundance of excitement built into those sagas.

If we think about it there were stories that helped us grew into who we are, and those stories gave us the tools to become the people we needed to be within our society. It was also where faith was learned. The tales were told of heroes and the people we needed to stay away from through our life walks. Can you imagine listening to stories of who you want to be in a well told story?

It was a time where people gathered together to learn who we were and how to live daily. Today, we have books, tapes, and computer games, but somewhere we’ve lost the fun and excitement that comes from sharing stories told around a campfire, or shared by a special grandparent. History has lost that special contact from those who know it by heart.

What stories do you have to share? Every family has a history that needs to be shared. Take time to learn those stories before they disappear. Stories of a grandfather who owned a family circus in the 1800s, or an ancestor who traveled to America, or stories about that great war - these are tales that connect us to the past and to each of our family’s own histories. Take time to listen to the "story tellers" in your family and those in your community, these stories are ours histories and they make each of us who we are.