Brrr...

I continue to live in NW Pennsylvania because I don’t enjoy hot weather.  The summers are relatively cool (usually) and the winters -- well -- they are a bit more than cool, but I tell myself that the cold preserves me better. Earlier this season, even before the calendar start of winter, when what the weather people called an Arctic Express blasted Buffalo, it seemed too cold to snow here, but today is different.  I woke up to snow, and it has not stopped all day.  Now early evening, there looks to be a least a foot of the white stuff on the ground, not to mention deeper drifts, and it is still coming down.  Natives of this area would say that we are paying our dues for the seventeen days of sun this past summer or for a lovely autumn – several nice days in a row – maybe even three.   If you are not from around here, you need to realize that snow people believe that we will “pay” for every nice weather day we have throughout the “non-winter” month(s).  We simply cannot comprehend that there are places in the world that enjoy nice weather most of the time and where people don't know what lake-effect snow means.  I mean -- we know that there are places like that; we just don’t really get it. We live by our experience with weather and have begun to take some level of pride in our ability to survive. We often mention things like we are of hardy stock and take pride in our ability to keep a sense of humor when surrounded by white and gray from sky to ground. We also know that a person needs more than one type of snow shovel.  Bless our hearts. 

To make matters worse this time of year -- what I am finding now is that I don't enjoy winter as much as I did when I was younger.  Duh....  There are a few reasons. Snowshoes are no longer as much fun.  Ice has taken on new meaning now that my age group no longer jokes about broken hips... and... my eye balls sometimes seem to freeze during the time it takes to walk to my mailbox and back.  Yep -- new meanings. Winter no longer means ice-skating on Alice Lake at Mead Park, sledding on Piccadilly Hill, or spontaneous snowball fights. Then again it no longer means wool coats that when wet weigh twice your body weight. (Remember that wet wool smell of mittens and socks drying by the fire at Nichols lodge?  Actually -- I seriously don't miss that smell.)   

Then or now, winter weather is winter weather. As time passes, it takes longer and longer to get psychologically prepared for it even if we do have access to better winter clothing and to boots that do not require bread wrappers over our socks. Winter in NW Pennsylvania can be especially challenging, but then again -- there is a certain beauty to the change of the seasons here as well -- even if you start in early October to count the days until spring... even if you wonder if it will snow the night of the prom in May.  I think I will stay here for a while longer -- I am a snow person.

  Stay warm... 

Sleep? Anyone?

My son has joked more than once about how my generation thinks it can accomplish an entire day's work before his generation even rolls out of bed, and 8 AM is "sleeping in" for him.  That is funny, but let's face it...sleep, or lack thereof, is a bit of an issue for a lot of us Boomers.  I know this because sleep often comes up in conversation in a couple of different ways.

One way the topic emerges is with those who fret about their sleep habits, which naturally makes matters worse for them.  I know people who have taken "stuff" to help them sleep -- everything from prescription drugs to magnesium tablets.  I know people who have considered acupuncture and others who have gone to sleep clinics and now talk about things like REM sleep and sleep disorders.  You know what -- if I went to one of those places, I would be trying so hard to fall asleep that I never would -- never.  I would just lie there like a tense lump of sleeplessness.  (By the way... did you know that REM stands for rapid eye movement? At my point of "experience" I do know a huge number of informational tidbits -- some of which are relatively useless, but fun... many of which I learned by watching TV or by reading in the middle of the night.)

Then again -- it is important to consider another school of thought -- that individuals will sleep when they get tired enough.  This catching up sometimes happens spontaneously when sitting down for a few moments or -- when blinking.  A glance into the TV area during a televised sporting event or a look around during a church service will attest to this.   --- I am of this second school. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I figure that at some point I will be able to get away with a catnap or two to catch up, so I really don't fret too much about a lack of sleep.  Sometimes though after a wakeful night, I cannot let myself sit down even for a minute.   Really....  It's not safe on several different levels.  A case in point -- when my son was about two and I was pregnant with my daughter, I sat down for a moment, blinked, fell asleep and woke to find him standing in the toilet wearing his leather baby shoes. The sleeping issue has been going on for a while in my life.  My son is 37 years old now.

Truly -- what we grew up calling a "full night's sleep" may be a thing of the past for many of us and certainly we do handle the situation in different ways. Yet  -- one of my cousins said recently that she has solved the problem for herself.  She has figured out that if she only goes to bed every other night, she can sleep for 6-8 hours in a row. Stop laughing.... Actually she may be on to something.  I was awake in the middle of the night this week and watched an "interview" with Deepak Chopra.  When asked about insomnia, he said that if you can force yourself to stay awake for 48 hours, your biological clock will reset itself.  I know that I was not dreaming this.  I am almost always awake in the middle of the night.  I sleep in shifts.  It usually works for me.  You?   

Best laid plans of mice and men...

Sometimes plans (and life)  just take a different direction than anticipated. I had been working on two blog posts -- one on winter weather in Northwest Pennsylvania (there is plenty of time for that one yet) and another post on what seems to be the early arrival of December and a rapidly approaching Holiday season.  Then -- I took a break to check Facebook and found a short video clip of my seven year old grandson trying to remove the second of his two front teeth. It had been hanging by a "thread" for an annoyingly long time.  I just simply have to tell you about the process.  

In the video he is sitting on the couch next to his little sister who is, of all things, watching him while calmly eating popcorn.  She's right -- he is a show (so is she; they just don't know it). Anyway  -- this is his approach....  Using dental floss, he has tied his tooth to a Nerf bullet which he then loads into a Nerf gun and pulls the trigger.  He does this three times. Two of the three times that spongy "bullet" comes flying back, hits him on the top of the head, and bounces back into his lap -- a perfect soft ricochet. The third time I don't know where it goes. (By this time I am laughing so hard that I can't keep my eyes open.)  At this point the tooth is barely attached and it is a simple matter to just give it a little tug to remove it. What is there to say?  My grandson definitely has a flare for the dramatic.  My granddaughter finds him most amusing.  She is not alone.  I, of course, find both the tooth puller and the popcorn eater amusing. 

The thing is -- there is something very touching about this whole "adventure".  He is a courageous and creative young man, but just before he pulls the trigger of the Nerf gun, he reaches over to grab his Mom's hand.  He doesn't say anything, just reaches out to her.  I must admit, I find watching this whole process hysterically funny and... extremely touching.  Who says you can't laugh and cry at the same time?  Not me.

More Thoughts on Thanksgiving...

I had been thinking about topics for this week's blog for several days when it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I should consider writing about Thanksgiving. After all -- this post will go live on Thanksgiving Day or shortly thereafter.  Now -- here is the dilemma... what could I possibly say that has not already been said and well said about Thanksgiving?  Certainly there are many wonderful stories written about childhood memories and about time spent with relatives and friends here and no longer here. Thanksgiving tales abound. Wonderful tales. Hallmark movies have been made. There are enumerable things about which to be thankful, and I agree that it is important to stop and think once in a while about how truly blessed we are. Seriously....  Yet...

Not wanting to go over topics already so thoroughly explored -- I decided that I just simply have to tell you that in many ways Thanksgiving is my favorite of all holidays.  I love the gathering of the clan and sometimes friends too; I love the relaxed, no presents day.  I even like to glance at the big parade from time to time throughout the morning.  But -- second only to having time with my family --  I think I like the aromas of preparation.  The feast is yummy, of course, but the smells of early morning Monkey bread, followed by the aromas of stuffing preparation and then roasting turkey -- there are no adequate adjectives to describe the mouth-watering, yet welcoming, homey feeling of that particular meal. My kids always comment on that feeling when they arrive for the day.  I like that -- it is what I was going for all along...that welcoming, homey feeling.  ... Yep -- so much for which to be thankful... and let's not forget to include the leftovers in that....   
                                                                                                                          Happy Thanksgiving everyone.  

Things in common...

It is wonderful to find a connection with other generations, but it is not quite the same as having a conversation with someone who remembers a Buster Brown X-ray machine or Bucky Bucky Beaver and at least part of the words to the IPANA toothpaste song that starts with "Brusha Brusha Busha... with the new IPANA. It's dandy for your teeth."  Or remember Farfel's "OH... N-E-S-T-L-E-S, Nestles make the very best --- chocolate" ?  (Bet when you read that you were singing it in your head. I know my sister would be.)  Anyway -- when you have things like that in common, it is no wonder that you can communicate with others of your vintage by facial expression or a roll of the eyes. Perhaps each generation has its bonds that tie.  Boomers have a lot more serious bonds than those mentioned above, but today I am thinking about the "you get it" look.

The other day I was talking with an classmate of mine from the high school class of 1967. He is a good guy. We were chatting away and suddenly in mid sentence, I totally forgot what I was saying or where I was going with the idea if I could have remembered what it was.  We just looked at each other and said nothing. I knew that he knew. We both "got it". I am thinking that you may get the drift as well.  After a short silence, we both smiled, and he said quietly, "Yep..."  It's nice when other people understand, when you don't have to explain.   Yep....  

I have convinced myself that the forget in mid-sentence thing is totally not age related. Rather it has to do with running on overload -- so many things to think about -- too much information bombarding at once. I read somewhere that it is called "benign forgetfulness."  I am hanging onto that thought. I love my age...well.. most aspects of it. (It is interesting to step outside of yourself and take a good look at the "aging" process, but that is a discussion for another day.)  What I really like is having a connection with old friends where no explanation is necessary.  It's comforting in a world where a part of the younger generations are beginning to look at you like you are some kind of a dinosaur with wrinkles and white hair.  If they only knew.... They will...before they know it.  There is that.

Too Much Stuff

I don't know about you, but I have too much stuff.  It used to be that I only thought about it when contemplating or planning a move, but lately...  I think about it more.  It isn't just when I go to hang up clothes in a closet either;  it is also when I go to the pantry cupboard to find a can of corn or when I think about dusting in my book room or cleaning the hutch in my dining area.  Too much stuff.  Particularly prevalent are odds and ends of yarns left over from projects completed long ago and things like shoes that are falling apart but have been faithful and comfortable. I don't even want to go into other things like old notebooks from college and the stamp collection I started in fifth grade. Too much stuff. In an attempt to disguise the situation, I even have tightly organized overloaded cupboards and closets, but now it is time to clean out a bit -- actually more than a bit.  (I am so thankful that a couple of years ago my wonderful and "cool" adult children had a garage sale of all their things that were stored in my basement, so... that area is pretty well done.  They did a good job of it.)

The problem is that no one really wants any of my accumulated things - some of the "treasures" are personal, so I am on my own when it comes time to make a decision.  It is easy to part with items that no longer mean anything to you - like when you realize that you have forgotten the significance of that item -- the origin of a pressed flower, or what that odd metal spring goes to, but it is more difficult to part with the things that that could still be put to good use  by someone somewhere.  Who is that? Where is that?

Then there are the treasures you find when sorting through that you simply must keep -- things that have special meaning.  A case in point -- The other day my grandson was looking through stuff and found a "coin" of some sort that has my Father's name on it.  I honestly don't remember having seen it before -- ever. Is it an apport?  Think not. Probably not. It most likely has been resting for a long time inside that old salt box of my Mom's just waiting for my smart little scavenger of a grandson to find it. Now that coin probably is of no value to anyone except family who knew my father, but at the same time -- it is more than that. Putting aside all the concerns about too much stuff, here is my hope -- that my grandson will remember finding it and how pleased I was to see it. He obviously saw what it meant to me as he found a special place to display it where it would be safe. It was one of those shared moments.  He is old enough at age seven to remember and he has a memory like a bear trap.  That is just one of the things for which I am grateful. I definitely have too much stuff and I need to deal with that, but memories don't take up any space.  

Purring Grandma

Recently I was chatting with a good friend of mine.  She was telling me about time spent with her Mom during the previous week..  They had spent several days together planning and working on a project. ( I was exhausted just listening to all that they had accomplished.) Anyway --  at one point her Mom, who is a young 88, sat down, put her feet up, closed her eyes and shortly thereafter began to purr softly. (That whole scenario makes me smile.)  My friend found this to be amazing and wonderful at the same time.  The thing that surprised her was not just the purring, but that her Mom actually stopped to take a bit of a nap  .Now I personally don't find the desire to take a bit of a nap at all surprising.  In fact I find it hard to believe that there are people who never nap and seem to take great pride in the fact that they don't.. I do believe them when the say they don't even feel the need, but I still find it necessary to "suspend my disbelief", if you know what I mean.  Anyway -- I decided to take an informal poll.  I discovered that many people, including a random sampling at the local Walmart as well as some of my friends, highly recommend napping on a regular basis. There are those who use strong terms like "power nap". Others just mumble as if napping needs to be a confession of some sort.   Actually there are many terms that people use in reference to napping.  It is sort of like areas of the country that have twenty-seven different words for snow.  The more important the subject, the more words to describe it.  I was talking with my  three-year-old granddaughter just the other day about the importance and benefits of napping. As I was looking at her and gabbing away, she closed her eyes and tipped over on me sound asleep. I guess she doesn't need to be convinced. She is, after all, a fourth generation "napper". As I watched her sleep the sleep of a three year old, I wished that she too did a little soft purring. There is something so nice about that.      

Intro to From Pencilbox to Keyboard

I am a retired English instructor who worked primarily with young writers within advanced high school English and college writing courses.  In addition to this attempt at blogging, I am currently writing adventurous stories with my seven-year-old grandson and three-year-old granddaughter.  Actually I am not doing any of the writing – just acting as their secretary.

Retired now for a number of years, I am exploring blogging in an attempt to get back into a fun stream of activity where I might share experiences with other “boomers” who may need an ear or who might want to laugh together at some of life’s more interesting experiences that so many of us have in common.  Laughter helps sometimes…even a smile and a nod work. 

For the past several months I have been celebrating my 65th birthday, and along with the fun, I have been thinking seriously at times about growing older.   As a good friend of mine has said, “…aging really is an amazing event.  I would hate to miss it.”  As I sort things out in my mind, I keep coming back to focus a bit on a conversation with a family friend who at the time of our talk had recently celebrated his 100^th birthday. This was a man who put away his bicycle at age 95 and once replied to his doctor’s suggestion that he take some Tylenol, by saying that “he didn't do drugs”.  Anyway  -- He was talking about his life and continuing good health. He said he had avoided arthritis by milking cows by hand (literally) and stayed in shape by moving around and avoiding lollygagging in general.  He emphasized that it was important to get up – not to sit too much in your favorite chair.  I listened and thought…

Too late for me on the cow milking thing…. I am not even going to comment on lollygagging in general, as I am not even positive that I know what that is.  Finally, it occurs to me that both my propensity to play too much Candy Crush Saga and my new interest in blogging are both done while seated, and… I do love my favorite chair.  I am thinking that all this does not bode well for my personal longevity based on his standards.  Am I compensating by telling myself that I am not sure I want to live to be over 100 years old anyway?