Marking time...

I recently spent time with someone who is important to me as a friend. We laugh and share funny stories when we are together, and we also cover the important "stuff" as well.  You know -- the things that go below the surface. There are children and family concerns, challenges of growing older, the disappointments of not being able to "fix" things that come up in any of those areas. I am thinking that this experience and these feelings are things that many of us share.  

Anyway -- I sense that this friend is sort of marching in place -- marking time. I think this happens when you are still moving but feel like you are not going anywhere. It is simply when a person needs time to regroup, to sort out, and... perhaps to heal before reentering the fray of daily life at full strength - if that is even possible. Again I am thinking that this marching in place experience is something to which you may be able to relate. I know that I have been there once or twice myself.

I think that it is important to recognize this need to mark time in ourselves as well as in others. It is the classic case of being mindful. Sometimes you can see it in eyes - your own eyes as well as in others.  If you can see something in someone's eyes that makes you want to be especially kind,  to hug them or to reach out and touch their hand -- that may be it... they are marking time. Whatever they have been going through didn't kill them, but they need some time to regather strength, to heal and to be able to move forward. It is a time during which people need to be particularly kind to themselves...methinks.

Thinking about this whole idea makes me remember my Mom saying - more than once - something like, "You need be kind to others because you never know what they are going through, and because you know little or nothing of their past struggles. Sometimes pain lingers a bit."  My Mom was one smart lady to be sure. She was also kind. As I think back on it, I can see that she also had her own marking time periods.  She came through stronger.... Interesting.... Even in memories, she is still teaching me.  Nice....

It Takes a Village...

Attention Boomers as young as 60 who reside within the Corry Area School District...

• Want to stay in your own home for as long as you can?
• Need some help with a project now and then?
• Have trouble rearranging furniture, finding last minute transportation to an appointment, or with flipping your mattress?
• Is your computer stressing you out?
• Does your smartphone make you feel stupid?  
• Looking to hire a contractor, a lawn care service, an electrician, or a service provider of any sort who has been vetted and may offer you a discount?   

Becoming a member of Village Friends may be the perfect answer for you -- or for someone you know.

Check out the Village Friends, Inc. Facebook page or visit their website at www.villagefriendsinc.org for more details.  If you think that you want to consider becoming a member or a volunteer, you can call the Program Director, Jackie Haines at (814) 964-2767 or download an application from the website and mail it to 45 East Washington Street, Corry, PA 16407.

I recently joined as a member but also hope to do a bit of volunteering as well once I figure out where I might be able to help. I am thinking that we are most fortunate to have a Village Friends here that is a part of an important nationwide movement to help older citizens live independently and to participate in social, cultural and educational activities.  A lot is going on  -- many opportunities to just plain have fun.  There are, for example several  "Day Tripping" outings planned to visit and explore a variety of interesting places nearby and also the chance to participate in the "Coffee Club" that meets once a month to plan events and outings. 

A village can do more than raise a child - although that is certainly important. A village of friends can make everyone's life better - no matter what age they may happen to be.  You may want to think about volunteering, joining or perhaps -- donating to this organization.

Well alrighty then....

Recently my sister mentioned seeing the word "pertinerly" in a novel she was reading and went on to say that it reminded her of our grandmother, Bessie.  I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about until I figured out when I ran across that word while reading the same novel, that it means pretty nearly.  Then I remembered - but more as "pret near", although I am sure Bessie said "pertinerly" if my sister says so. My sister has a mind like a steel trap.  I will never play Trivial Pursuit with her if you know what I mean.  There are advantages though -- I have depended upon her to be my memory on more than one occasion. It's nice really. I don't tell her that though.  I just let her think that she remembers better because she is older than I am. 

Anyway -- when I thought more about it, I remembered listening to our Dad talk with his two brothers and older relatives at family gatherings and then teasing him (in my head only) about "family speak" as a language. I can't help but wonder if my first cousins noticed the same thing with their Dads.  I will ask them for sure -- if I remember. I also need to remember to ask my kids, niece, and nephews if my sister and I do the same thing. Language adapts to us somehow... or maybe we make it fit the occasion.  I mean, after all, -- we don't talk to our friends the way we talk to our grandchildren.  Seriously not....

Do all families have such shared expressions and ways of communicating?  I remember our son saying, "No, I amn't" for "No, I am not".  Actually the entire family said "amn't" until it was almost time for him to start school and we decided that we needed to stop.  I fondly think of it as our adopted contraction and find myself using it once in a while even now.  It's fun.

Maybe this whole thing has something to do with the way language tends to evolve.  New expressions and words are added all the time. Meanings change. Rules of grammar go by the wayside. Then again - maybe it is just the way we are.  Maybe we need to develop our own special phrases and words to communicate with our own special people. Maybe it is similar to nicknames. It's a connection of a sort.  Well alrighty then...

Thoughts of One 65....

Thoughts of One 16 was the title of a book that I wrote many years ago...many years ago. Actually it was more of a journal really.  It helped me survive my adolescent angst and to sort out all things complicated and that hurt.  I wrote snarky rhymes about teachers I found to be unfair or annoying.  I wrote about my parents not understanding who I really was. There were pages on young love, crushes, hurt feelings and even more pages on dreams and hopes. I even planned a home I wanted to live in when I grew up. Not surprisingly, I no longer wish to live in the loft of a barn in a damp, lush forest. Anyway -- I recently found this journal in a box in my basement. I had drawn a picture of myself on the cover.  My tongue was sticking out and my eyes were crossed. The word brat comes to mind.  It is in some ways embarrassing to read, but in other ways it is interesting now, looking back, to see how I was trying to find my way to the person I am today.

Remember the 1960's when it was all about the "identity crisis"?  How is that term for a blast from the past?  Argh -- the painful process of "finding oneself".  How unfortunate for many of us that this search occurred at the same time as bad cramps -- as if one were not enough without the other. Yet -- most of us somehow muddled our way through it all.  Must mention -- I have often thought that I would not wish that process on anyone, and I would not want to return to ages 13-19 for any reason. Writing helped me through it though -- no doubt.

Writing continued to be an out for me as time went on.  I wrote my way through college, marriage, children, both the good times and the not so good. Writing helped ease my way through many life challenges, including the death of a marriage, and of friends and family.  A lot of what I wrote over time, I destroyed. The words were never meant to be shared; they were just a pressure release -- at times a major venting.  In fact, I have even advised people to write and then to destroy.  Sometimes it is the process that counts... not the communication to others. Writing is, at times, more of a "me" thing. It helps one to sort through it all.

Now at this stage of the game, writing is particularly fun. Perhaps -- fun is not the best choice of words, but it will have to do.  At age sixty-five, I seem to be coming into my own as far as the writing thing is concerned. I have the time to write and have found a most pleasant audience for those words I choose to share. Thank you. 

As I continue to think about it, I most always have found something to enjoy about my age -- whatever that age was at the moment and regardless of whether I was writing or not at that time.  Even now in my "Twilight years" (another interesting expression to be sure), I find a lot to like about where I am.  I love being comfortable with who I am, with whom I am becoming. I know where I belong...what I do and do not want to do and... writing helped me find my way here. To me, actually, there is a certain relief in getting older.  For one thing, I can wear comfy clothes all the time -- every single minute of every day. I particularly enjoy that option. For another thing, I am relatively comfortable in saying what I want to say.  Maturing has taught me to mind my tongue, but even in that "I am totally the boss of me."   There is an almost intoxicating freedom in just knowing that you could say something if you really wanted to. 

I listened to a great teacher once who talked about stepping outside of oneself and watching the progression and challenges of growing older. His words were a lesson in objectivity that I understood for some reason.  I particularly like his use of the word "growing" in the sentence when he is talking about the aging process. In life, one should never stop growing.... Things are happening as they are supposed to happen.  Life, too, is a process...lots of fascinating things about which to think and to write whether you are sixteen or let's say... sixty-five. 

A Bond Among Strangers

Recently I noticed  that a lot of people were waving at me as I drove down the road.  You know how dark windshields are these days -- you can only see the hand waving and not the face?  I was a little confused. Why so many waves?  I checked to see that my tailgate was closed and then --  thought about it and decided that people were waving at my new vehicle thinking that I was someone else.  That was it for sure.  There are a lot of vehicles like mine out there.  Then I noticed that it was only other Jeep Wrangler drivers who were waving at me.  What?  I mentioned this phenomenon to my cool/with-it daughter,  who suggested that it could be similar to how motorcyclists "wave" to each other -- a sort of comradery.  I wondered.  So -- I "hit" Google as I often do nowadays when confronted with some new thing, term, happening, etc. (I want to at least try to keep up with things.  I even know someone who has ordered an Apple Watch.)

This is what I found. According to several sources, including the Urban Dictionary, there is something called The Jeep Wave.  Jeep Talk even has an official "Guide to The Jeep Wave" which goes into humorous detail in delineating:

• the variety of acceptable waves
• the hierarchy of Jeeps, including a myriad of sub-categories
• the rules of the waving process
• the various explanations as to the origin of the wave

Jeep Talk has even assigned a point value to individual Jeeps based on age, experience, equipment, modifications, and my personal favorite -- battle scars, including scars on the driver that "Must be Jeep-related" in order to count (proof may be required).  Of all Jeeps, Wranglers of any vintage rank the highest -- of course. The older and more banged up the better -- apparently. There are even Jeep Wave Stickers and Decals available on E-bay and Amazon. I even saw one type of Jeep Wave in a Jeep TV commercial recently.  It's a whole other world out there that I am just now discovering.  

I wanted to share this information and experience with my daughter, son-in-law, and smart/cute grandkids, so last Saturday, we all piled into the Wrangler and headed to Duran's Farm Store on the "low" road between Waterford and Erie, PA.  We encountered several Wranglers and several Jeep waves as my son-in-law was driving/trying out my new vehicle.  We really "got into" the whole experience. Given our location,  I could not help but think that if Jeeps had been around in the Waterford/Fort Le Boeuf area during colonial times, George Washington would have had one for sure in which to cross French Creek on his way to deliver that message to the French.  Anyway -- it was fun.  Then -- when my daughter was driving on the way home, two of the Wranglers we met did not wave.  Oh no!  Either they didn't have "with it" drivers -- or -- were just not in a friendly mood -- or....  let's face it - sometimes 4-door Wranglers, like mine, are met with disdain by older, more well-used 2-door Wranglers. There is a hierarchy to be sure.  Plus -- I keep the doors on and take my Wrangler through a car wash. For sure --there are the "too conservative" (scaredy-cat) and the "too clean"  factors to consider also.  Notwithstanding the hierarchy,  I have to admit that we all heartily booed the non-wavers.  As a follow-up mention  -- my son-in-law shared with me the next day that he was totally snubbed earlier that morning when he sheepishly waved at a Wrangler --  from his Subaru.  It's not an equal playing field, I guess.

Point of interest -- along with bikers, who have their own wave and protocol, I read that Mini Cooper drivers also have their own wave.  What fun is this?  In times that sometimes seem harsh and cold, there are total strangers reaching out to one another to say a fun hello.  It's a bond among strangers for sure.  I am thinking that we need more fun things like this.   

What If ...?

Do you sometimes find yourself playing the "What if ..." game?

• What if I try and my plan to ... doesn't work?
• What if I ask and the answer is ...?
• What if my encounter with ... doesn't turn out the way I thought it would?

I left out the details in the questions above on purpose. Others have their own specifics that they could fill in to make their own "What if..." list. Think about it for a minute or two. Does it seem to you that thinking about the "What ifs..." may not be a good thing? Why do we do this "What if...?" thing to ourselves?  I wonder how many sleep interrupted nights there are out there for those who wonder what if the alarm clock doesn't go off...?  (I apologize to those of you who will now add that one to your list.) 

The thing is -- I know that I am not alone in "playing" this game. A lot of us spend time floundering about in the "What if ..." game. I even wonder if every human being does this at least at some point? Is this phenomenon cultural or do people all over the world do this to themselves? Was this happening in the 13th century? Maybe we should give all this "what if... business" some thought. Seriously -- this seeming waste of time ranks right up there with the time-honored -- "Try not to think about it", "Put that on the shelf for now" or "I should have said...".  

When in that "iffy" state of mind, I always remind myself of something our Mom used to say when difficult circumstances were looming. She would say,   "I am a fatalist ...whatever is written on the wind."  ....   Those words may have offered a bit of comfort to me for a little while, but they never even once helped over the long term. Yet -- how kind of her to try to ease us through the situation -- whatever it was. I wonder if it worked for her to leave it up to the wind? I hope so. I sincerely do. 

Wouldn't we be better off if we could somehow train ourselves to think about things a little differently?  Maybe if we start slowly...  What if we could...? What if there are people out there who have already overcome this and are just sitting back watching with a smile and waiting for us "what iffers" to catch up? Or -- what if it is not a total waste of time and energy? What if there some important lesson to be learned? What if there is something I am missing?  Good grief...  What if...?  Does anyone out there have an answer?

The Klutz Factor Revisited

At the end of January, I posted a blog entitled “The Klutz Factor” in which I explored the family tendency to do all things Klutz.  I then went on through the rest of the winter “walking” most carefully across ice and snow ever fearful of the big slip and slide crash.  The snow and ice gradually melted and disappeared (knock on wood), so what did I do after making it through an entire winter without a fall?  I tripped and fell in my own living room.  Good grief.  I feel compelled at this point to offer a sincere thank you to the Elgin Beaverdam ambulance crew and volunteers as well as to our wonderful Corry Memorial Hospital staff, both of whom were beyond excellent in their care.  (It was not quite a case of “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” – but nevertheless – it was more than a little scary.  However – it was not so scary that I won’t try to find it funny and to make fun of myself.)

It had been a rather dreary day and I had decided to take advantage of the quiet evening ahead to don my jammies early. I was padding around the house, thinking about supper, when a sudden and unexpected burst of energy appeared out of nowhere and I thought I should put it to good use and clear out the overloaded junk drawer in my living room.  This drawer is full of out-of-date appliance manuals, etc. Some of you may be able to identify with that.  Anyway --I began to sort and had a few piles going when I turned around and tripped over a footstool or maybe --- my own feet. Now get this – for at least twelve feet I did the “Oh no, don’t fall and break a hip dance”.  In spite of all my maneuvering, I ended up on the floor, slamming my left temple against a doorjamb on my way down. (I also broke a fingernail that I had been trying to save for several weeks and am currently sporting an impressive "shiner".)  

So anyway … there I was – lying on the floor, baffled but alert, and, as soon as I thought of it, I immediately checked my new knees to make sure they were still in place. I wondered how hard you have to hit your head to lose consciousness. Ouch!  I gradually realized that my head was actually dented and that it was beginning to swell at a most alarming rate.  All I could picture was Sloth on The Goonies. Remember that movie? Although experiencing a bit of blurry vision, a touch of nausea and a lot of terror, I, of course, had to get dressed in “real” clothes before I called the paramedics. I must confess that I struggled with trying to find an ambulance phone number before I had a “duh” moment and got a grip on the situation. I am a little stunned to realize that it took me a while to remember the whole “911 thing”. I am blaming that on the head injury. Must mention here that my daughter was appalled that I took time to get dressed and all that, but seriously – would you go to the hospital in a thermal shirt, baggy sweat pants and a frumpy bathrobe if you could help it?  Remember – I had fallen, but I did manage to get up. In a similar situation -- do women not shave their legs while in labor if there is time between contractions?  Seriously.  I think I did well to have the presence of thought not to drive myself to the hospital.  Give me some credit.

When recounting all of this to my daughter in the Emergency Room, she mentioned that it would have been quite something to have had a camera running at the time of the fall.  I think I said that such a video might  have been worthy of going viral on YouTube as the “Crazy Dancing Nana”.  She then said that I definitely should write about this experience in my blog.  (I told you before that my family has a tendency to laugh at each other when we fall.)

I am sure that the irony of this "inside fall" at the end of winter is not lost on you.  The lovely person who scanned my brain at CMH commiserated with me and said that, "...fear of falling takes on a whole new meaning after age 50".  She was so nice to me. Everyone was nice to me....so very nice.... Thanks again....  FYI ...it may take a few days for eyes to blacken after such a fall and they have a huge selection of "shades" at the local Rite Aid.  Must say that they are nice there too -- even when you look a bit like a gargoyle.