My local newspaper, the Seattle Times, has a daily mini-column titled, Rant and Rave. I always read that column, but I’m most interested in the Raves because acts of kindness are spotlighted. As you can see in the attached link, one portion of the column is affirming, the other, not so much.
I wrote to the editor of that particular section, asking him to put more focus on the Raves, maybe even excluding the Rants from time to time, because the general public has so many social media venues in which to complain. I haven’t heard back from him yet, but I am hopeful that I eventually will.
I sincerely believe we all have a responsibility to counter balance the negativity that surrounds us, and distributing kindnesses to others is one very easy way of doing so. The yucky things that go on in the world get all the attention; the spotlight shines brightly on those things; the good that occurs barely receives the dying flame from a match.
What happened to the country into which I was born?
What happened to freedom of thought, freedom of the press, and freedom of speech?
Allow me to go back in history for a brief moment: March 1991 saw astonishing violence exhibited toward an African American, Rodney King, resultant from Mr. King’s decision not to pull over during a high-speed chase when pursued by Los Angeles Police Department officers. Officers were tried in a court of law for their excessive use of violence and three of those officers were acquitted, sparking the historical 1992 Los Angeles riots. Mr. King observed said violence and was upset at what transpired during those riots. What follows is a portion of his response to the ensuing actions and his plea for peace:
“I just want to say – you know – can we all get along? Can we, can we get along? … It’s just not right – it’s not right. And it’s not going to change anything. We’ve got to quit – we’ve got to quit. And uh, I mean please, we can, we can get along here. We all can get along – we just gotta, we gotta. I mean, we’re all stuck here for a while, let’s, you know let’s try to work it out, let’s try to beat it, you know, let’s try to work it out.”
There is so much division in our country, division that has polarized families, friends, and neighbors and brought about a renewed and jarring brand of hatred and intolerance. This hatred thrives in both conservative, moderate, and liberal circles. We are all guilty. We are all intolerant.
This growth of intolerance toward those who have an opinion different from our own has got to stop. Even if I am diametrically opposed to the opinions of others, the core of who I am must allow for at least an openness to hear from those whose core speaks differently. Listening doesn’t mean converting; it means allowing others the freedom to believe what they believe but only as long as such beliefs don’t promote actions or words that denigrate and ostracize all of us who are struggling to survive in the very limited time we have on this Earth.
There will never come a time when all individuals on this earth are in 100% agreement, but the need for discourse is emergent.
We all have opinions that lean one way or another, but strong leanings should be just that: a leaning that still allows for flexibility so that jointly we can work toward the betterment – rather than the tearing down – of our fellow man.
“I mean, we’re all stuck here for a while, let’s, you know let’s try to work it out, let’s try to beat it, you know, let’s try to work it out.”
Rejecting hatred and intolerance in all forms begins with you, and it begins with me … every day, for the rest of our lives.
You might not expect to find kindness lurking in an international airport. Airports are notoriously me-focused with tempers creeping higher and higher as we navigate airport check-in, TSA, and every-seat-full airplanes.
My husband and I experienced a kindness that worked very much in our favor on our return flight from Las Vegas to Seattle earlier this week. In the pre-boarding area – Gate E15 – the Alaska Airlines employee kept encouraging passengers to check their large roller suitcases at the gate to allow for more space for everyone in the airplane. Those bags could be checked at the gate for no charge whatsoever (usually it’s $25 per bag).
I observed those who took Alaska up on their offer but many did not. I understand how difficult it is to part with one’s belongings. There might be something in that roller suitcase a person might need during the two and a quarter hour flight. (I’ve yet to see someone yank their roller bag out of the overhead during a flight however. Once it’s there, it is there to stay until the plane comes to a stop at the jetway, then people, like meercats, jump out of their seat, pop open the overhead bin, and are good and ready to steamroll themselves down the aisle out of the plane … even at the sacrifice of other’s toes.)
My husband and I have one carry-on each: a backpack. Our conservative manner of traveling paid off at McCarran International Airport. Instead of announcing rows – starting at the back of the plane – for passengers to start boarding, the Alaska agent said, “Anyone without a roller bag; anyone with a carry-on that fits under the seat in front of them may now board the plane.” And there you have it: a kindness was extended to us that might not have been a kindness to the remainder of the passengers with their roller bags but it was a kindness nonetheless.
It was a kindness of which we were able to take advantage; a kindness that rewarded us for traveling light.
This is my 800th post since I started my blog. Who knew my blog would last this long and I’d have so much to say?!!!
I rarely get a professional pedicure but when I know my toes are going to be exposed to the general public, I make an appointment and get my gnarly toenails decorated with a lively color.
I did that at the InSpa in my town of Redmond, Washington just prior to my husband’s and my recent trip to Arizona. As luck would have it, the same person who spruced up my toes for our October 2016 Hawaii trip was the woman assigned to me today.
I know many women who get a pedicure use that time as “me-time” to escape from their harried lives. They read, or perhaps get caught up with their correspondence/texts, and some simply close their eyes and enjoy being pampered. I can’t do any of those activities because I don’t like the feeling of having someone “service” me. It’s like the person is a servant at my feet (and let me tell you I have gawd-awful looking feet), and it’s as if I’m someone who is above her, of a higher station in life, and that’s not the way I feel. So I talk; I engage the person in conversation.
The first time Jacklin had given me a pedicure, I learned about the size of her family, what she likes to do in her spare time, etc. Well this time Jacklin and I got to talking and she had an accent I couldn’t place so instead of just blurting out, “Where are you from?” I told her that I liked her accent. A minute later I said, “May I ask the original country of your birth?”
“I am from Iran.” Now, that was a surprise. I have no idea what Iranian women look like but that wasn’t the first country that popped into my head. She has lived in the United States for thirteen years and is now a citizen of the United States. “It must have been so difficult when you first moved here, I mean, English is one of the most difficult languages to learn.” She concurred whole-heartedly, indicating that the language and the transitioning to a completely different country was extremely difficult.
I asked, “What brought you to the United States? What was your reason for coming here?”
“My religion. My husband and I are Bahai and if you’re not a Muslim in Iran, you can not fully practice your religion.”
Wow. Her husband and three children moved to America to be able to freely practice their religion. She added, “There is freedom here. We are free to worship as we please.”
Forty-five minutes later, my pedicure completed, I said, “Thank you for sharing your story.” She replied, “Thank you for caring about my story.”
My interaction with this kind woman reminded me of how important it is to acknowledge each person we encounter; to be interested enough to want to know the person, not just interact with them.
It was the most gratifying pedicure I have ever received.
First of all, take a deep breath and shed the mantle of guilt you’re wearing. Now let’s address your dilemma.
When your father was on his deathbed you made a promise to take care of your mother in her old age. Now she is at the point of not being able to care for herself and you realize that you’re absolutely not cut out for – nor are you capable of – taking her under your roof to provide the care that she needs. What’s a dutiful son or daughter to do?
I’m not advocating that you break your promise to your father but I am suggesting that you consider redefining what that promise looks like. You promised your father that you would take care of your mother and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Taking care of your mother is not solely defined as moving her into your home and taking care of all her basic needs until she dies. Very few people have the ability or the means to provide 24-hour care in their home. You made that promise with the best intentions and you can still honor your promise without dishonoring your father. Keep in mind that loving your mother doesn’t guarantee your success as her caregiver. Even adult children with a fabulous relationship with their parent struggle greatly in their efforts. And if your relationship with your mother is tenuous at best, try picturing the scenario of you as caregiver and her as recipient of that care. What effect will that have on her, you, and the remainder of your household?
Let’s clarify how best to care for your mother.
Why can’t caring for your mother mean that you’re honest enough to admit that you’re not the best caregiving option? Do your best to find the care alternative that will provide her an optimal quality of life, e.g. adult daycare, errand and housekeeping services, assisted living. Do the research and consult the experts to confidently fulfill your promise to your father by securing the best care solution for your mother. If that solution involves selecting an assisted living facility, there are many resources available to you that can make this move a successful one for everyone involved. As her son or daughter you will be able to lovingly help her transition into a residential location with like-minded older adults where she can receive the care that will fulfill the promise you made to your father.
Now imagine the NEW normal that your mother and your family can experience.
Your mother lives nearby in an assisted living residence. She has companions with whom she enjoys spending time. She receives three wholesome meals a day and when she, or you, feel like seeing each other, you’re just a short drive away! The time she spends at your house will be as a pampered visitor – not an inpatient (or impatient) relative. It’s probably difficult right now for you to see this as a viable option, but I think in time, you’ll find that everyone, including your father, will be pleased with the outcome.
Kindness towards others doesn’t have to be grandiose. I mean, painting a next door neighbor’s two-story house is a very kind thing to do but many of us don’t have the capabilities to pull off that type of kindness.
Even the smallest gift of kindness can mean the world to people.
Last Friday I did my weekly grocery shopping at my primary grocery store. The weather has been extremely cold in the Pacific Northwest with snow and ice sticking around an inordinate length of time. Even though many businesses have made efforts to make their parking lots and sidewalks safe to walk on, some ice still remains as I discovered when walking from my car to the store entrance. I didn’t fall – thank the Universe – but the parking lot lane was a tad slippery.
Fast forward to me walking back to my car with a cart full of groceries, knowing that even if I made it safely to my car, I would still need to walk the cart to the nearest cart barn and then walk back to my car. I unloaded my groceries into my Toyota and a gentleman shopper walked up to me and said, “I’ll put that cart away for you.”
“Thanks so much, now I don’t have to risk life and limb walking it to the cart corral.”
He made my day, and all he had to do was walk a shopping cart 30 feet away.
I’m launching a new series this year called Kindness Fridays. You’ll still be privy to my Lighten up Mondays series (humor to start your week) but with Kindness Fridays, I’ll report on at least one episode of kindness that was recently extended to me. My first kindness encounter actually occurred in December of last year and was the inspiration for this new blog segment.
The beginning of December, I road the bus into downtown Seattle to have lunch with my sister-in-law. I allowed for plenty of time to do some Holiday shopping prior to meeting up with her.
One particular shopping structure called Pacific Place has an entrance through a Barnes & Noble bookstore. Not being super familiar with Pacific Place but pretty sure I could access it through B&N, I chose that entrance. Upon entering, a security guard greeted me. I asked, “Can I enter the rest of the mall through this store?” He assured me I could and provided instructions for me to do so.
There were escalators to ride up and down and quite frankly I got confused and arriving at the top of an escalator, I found myself right back where I started. The security guard – whose job it was to stand at the street entrance to the store – noticed me, waved, and walked over to me.
“I’m sure you gave me the correct instructions but somehow or another I translated them incorrectly.”
“No problem, let’s go down this escalator and I’ll show you.”
“Really, you’ll escort me to the mall entrance?”
“Absolutely!”
We talked on the way down and upon arriving at the bottom of the escalator, he walked me to where I could access the Mall.
“Thank you so much for taking the time to do this. That was very thoughtful of you.”
He lightly touched my arm and said, “That’s why I’m here, I was happy to do so. Happy Holidays and enjoy your day.”
Wow. Such a brief yet powerful interaction but it was an act of kindness, the positive effects of which still remain with me today.
We read a news story that pisses us off either because the story being reported gets our blood boiling or the person about whom that story is written – whether a politician, entertainer, or some other public figure – is someone we’re not exactly enamored with, then we feed and nurture the news story by spreading it on our personal social media accounts. Isn’t doing so drawing attention to someone we don’t like? Giving that someone the attention we deem they should not receive? If we’re perturbed about a public figure, isn’t it more appropriate to just avoid any mention of her or him? We have far more power than we think we do in these matters.
We’re all guilty of this behavior. What is it in us human beings that we read bad news and can’t wait to spread it so that others can get as upset as we were when we were exposed to it?
Isn’t it a better option that collectively, the world decides once and for all, “Not gonna do it. Not gonna go there. I’m gonna kill the story by not feeding it. I’m not gonna ruin someone else’s day, someone who was probably doing just fine up until they read my ill-thought out Facebook Share or Retweet. No, it’s time for an about-face.
As I’ve said several times before, I don’t want to be responsible for ruining someone’s day, or for making them angry or upset. That’s a responsibility I’m not going to place upon my shoulders. Instead, I’m gonna build up, not tear down.
I’ve been authoring this blog, Baby Boomers and More, for five and a half years. Perhaps that’s a record for blog ownership, I’m not sure, but what I do know is that I thoroughly enjoy writing about matters of significance. I guess that’s why my blog has survived as long as it has: there are a heck of a lot of things going on in the world that fall into that category.
My website address remains the same: http://www.babyboomersandmore.com, but with a broader emphasis on life as it unfolds for all of us born within a certain year bracket:
iGen (after 2000)
Millennials (1980-2000)
Gen X (1965-1979)
Baby Boomers (1946-1964) and
The Greatest Generation (before the end of WWII).
Yes, there are many differences between the generations but we have one major characteristic in common: although as individuals we are strong in many ways, we still need each other to get to the finish line.
With that change in overall focus comes a new, primary blog identification:
Living: the ultimate team sport
If we consider all the people with whom we come in contact as being members of the same team, we will do all we can to support them. We’ll bolster rather than compete; we’ll pick them up rather than step over them as a means to an end; we’ll exhibit respect for each other’s talents while nurturing our own; we’ll not take advantage of weaknesses in order to falsely boost our own strengths. In short, we’ll stand by our teammates and want only the very best for them.
Another goal of mine: write more succinctly, at least after this particular post. 🙂 I know you’re all busy and have better things to do than read my oftentimes lengthy magnum opuses. I’m newly committed to being as succinct as possible, somewhere along the lines of an article I wrote on December 27, 2016: Don’t go there. Let’s face it, as a writer, I should be able to use an economy of words to get my point across to those who’ve chosen to follow me.
And one last thing: the header images you’ll see at the top of my blog (which will cycle through randomly) are from photos I took during a few of my hikes around the Pacific Northwest. Hiking is my passion, so I’m pleased to provide snapshots of views I have been privileged to see.
With that, I’ll sign off for now, so very glad to be a member of your team.
If I can’t do anything useful, at least I would like to do as little harm as possible. Wherever You Go, There You Are, by John Kabat-Zihn
Lainey Piland photo
Do no harm is a practice found in various aspects of society – including the Hippocratic Oath – and it was the underlying principle of Mahatma Gandhi’s revolution and his personal meditation practice. But what does it mean? Is it really as simple as doing no harm? You tell me.
Do no harm: Don’t do anything while driving that will piss off other drivers.
Do no harm: Don’t speak ill of others behind their back.
Do no harm: Don’t use social media to bully or anger an individual or a group of people.
Do no harm: Don’t ignore the server or courtesy clerk who’s working as hard as he/she can for you. Engage them in conversation; make their day by respecting what they do.
Do no harm: Don’t be unkind to anyone; think of how it felt when someone was unkind to you.
Do no harm: Don’t litter or do anything that harms the environment, regardless of how small.
Do no harm: Don’t put off a kindness such as sending a card to someone for no reason at all – or for every reason you can think of. Your card and message may be just what that person needs that day.
Do no harm: Don’t ignore the impulse to turn around to the person behind you while in line to say, “I’m not in a hurry, why don’t you go before me.” You may not be in a rush and he or she may be; think how your thoughtfulness will impact the remainder of their day.
Do no harm: Don’t keep compliments to yourself. For example, if your spouse or friend looks nice, tell him or her. It doesn’t do the person any good if you keep it to yourself. Your lack of attention may cause harm.
Do no harm: Don’t expect someone else to make a difference; you make a difference in whatever way you can, even if doing so is an inconvenience. Your inconvenience may be just what the world needs at that very moment in time.
Do no harm: What I have provided above barely scratches the surface of how we can do no harm. Please add your input in the comments section below to provide all of us with examples of how we might improve our personal corner of the world.
My wish for you: health, joy, and peace in the New Year.
When a person or a group of people stoop low in the way they communicate or behave towards you or others:
Don’t go there.
If someone pushes your buttons:
Don’t go there.
When your last nerve has been stepped on and you feel inclined to blow:
Don’t go there.
Rather than stoop to the depths of others, choose instead to go high. Seek the high ground in every situation in which you are tested and teased; ridiculed or bullied.
Go high.
Show others the true measure of who you are, perhaps giving them something to which they too may aspire.
In keeping with my Friday/weekly posting of articles that celebrate doing good and loving our neighbors, I am reposting this piece from December 2014 that encourages reaching out to those whom we see – however casually – on an ongoing basis in our neighborhoods. We just came back from 10 days away from home and our neighbors not only monitored our house, but when the region was threatened with a storm, they took pictures of the front and back of our house and texted them to us to show our house was still standing. So generous.
I love the fact that my husband and I have a wonderfully supportive group of neighbors in my rural Redmond, Washington location. The houses in my neighborhood are quite spread out, but within the …
I published this post in June of 2015. I am re-blogging it today as part of my weekly effort to propose – and promote – kindness. Just as we have the ability to recognize happiness in our own daily lives, we can also nurture a better quality of life in others, one small act of kindness at a time.
Every day, and every encounter during each day, we have the opportunity to do good, or to do bad; to improve upon someone’s day, or ruin it for them. Right now, or at the end of this day, thi…
Happy Friday everyone! Here’s this week’s positive encouragement to make a better world for yourselves, and others. Having a sense of community with those who live in the same neighborhood is a very good thing.
Lately, it seems everywhere I look I read articles about the importance of neighborhood connections. In the past few days I wrote two articles specifically addressing that concept: The importance of good neighbors, and Positive community activism.
The attached article above, written by Froma Harrop, compares today’s community with that which existed in the movie It’s a wonderful life, an annual Holiday classic. George Bailey’s bank customers and neighbors were people with whom he had a connection, “of varying incomes, education, and ethnicity. Each of them was an individual, not just a useful provider of a good or service.” Ms. Harrop goes on to say that the middle ring of society – as existed in George Bailey’s life – has been weakened over the years. Her article outlines her belief…
The longer our lifespan, the more likely each of us will need to be cared for. But one need not be elderly to require such care. Many illnesses strike without thought for a person’s stage in life.
Actor/comedian, Seth Rogen’s mother-in-law was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in her 50s, an age that many consider to be the prime of life. The successful actor’s finances, plus those of several other family members, supported the care of which his wife’s mother was in need. In time, he, his wife, Lauren, and many others established Hilarity for Charity:
In 2012, Seth and Lauren (along with some amazing friends), created Hilarity for Charity. They later established the Hilarity for Charity Fund as part of the Alzheimer’s Association, through which monies raised are directed to help families struggling with Alzheimer’s care, increase support groups nationwide, and fund cutting edge research. Since its inception, Hilarity for Charity has raised more than $5 million to support these efforts.
One of the ways in which they provide this support is through caregiving grants that provide hours of home care for those struggling to survive the demands of a disease that is always fatal. Could you, or someone you know, benefit from such grants? Please avail yourself of the information provided on the Hilarity for Charity website.
For the next few Fridays, I am going to re-blog articles I’ve written over the years that address being a positive influence on the world around us. My about-face, (see my post Good Starts with Me) got me thinking about whether or not I’ve sufficiently addressed topics that provide encouragement to all of us, to live a life centered around acts of kindness for others.
Turns out I’ve written 216 posts on this subject. But have no fear, I won’t post all of them, but I will select a few to offer you on a weekly basis for awhile. I hope you enjoy them.
Helene Gayle, Care USA President and CEO, learned early on in her adult life that giving to others was a necessary part of her participation in this world. It makes sense, then, that she heads a major international humanitarian agency that delivers emergency relief and support for long-term development projects. This organization is nonsectarian, impartial, and non-governmental. In my estimation, what could be better than that? In the book, Getting There by Gillian Zoe Segal, Ms. Gayle had this to say about effecting social change:
Social change is better achieved by being for something (rather) than against something. Growing up, I was part of a protest generation. We protested the war and stood in support of liberation struggles in Africa. Whenever we saw a problem, we were “against” it.
It’s easy to think that by being against something you’re standing up for a cause, but if you want to have…
For several weeks this summer, Mary taught an art class at The Leaven summer fun program in the town of Vacaville, California where she resides. As is often the case when parents sign their kids up for activities, not every child is enthusiastic about being forced to have fun with others.
That was the case for one of Mary’s students in her weekly classes. A thirteen year old boy – at least five years older than the rest of the students – couldn’t have cared less that my sister volunteered her time to pass along her passion for painting to the young participants. His weekly modus operandi was to quickly, and haphazardly, make whatever project my sister put before him, followed by him then crossing his arms in front of him while the rest of the children worked painstakingly to create what Mrs. Riesche had taught them to create.
During one particular class, the thirteen year old said that he didn’t like what he had done; that he needed to erase it or better yet, give up on the project. My sister stepped in and said the following to him, and I paraphrase:
Never give up, just keep going. You never know when what you consider to be a mistake may eventually turn into something remarkable.
As the very last art class of The Leaven’s artistic summer fun session came to a close a couple weeks ago, the Director queried the children, “What did you learn from your time in Mrs. Riesche’s art classes this summer?”
What happened next caught my sister totally off guard. The thirteen year old boy raised his hand, and said, “That I should never give up. That I should keep going regardless of how I feel about something.”
And there, my friends, is influence in action.
I told Mary I was certain this young boy would carry that lesson on tenacity with him into high school, college, and beyond. Perhaps he won’t remember the art teacher who made that lasting impression on him – I’d like to think that he will – but he will most certainly remember the sage advice my sister bestowed on him the summer of 2016.
Congratulations, Mary Riesche. You changed a child’s life forever.
Stronger Together was the major theme of the Democratic National Convention (DNC) and it was the stand-out focus of Hillary Clinton’s acceptance speech on July 28th.
Whether you follow the “It takes a village” concept – or simply believe that our lives can be positively enhanced by others – you most likely believe as I do, that two is better than one; three is better than two; four is better than three . . .
Mind you, I am perfectly capable of accomplishing many things for which I require very little – if any – assistance. But when I attempt to do something for which others’ participation may add strength – emotional or otherwise – and value to my efforts, I’m welcoming of others’ participation.
Ariel and Shya Kane, authors of several books, including Practical Enlightenment, (free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers) have the following to say about not going it alone. I quote verbatim from their chapter “You Can’t Do it Alone”:
Independence and freedom are the background upon which many of our lives are played. So we may not be making use of our support system of friends around us because we’re locked into an unexamined need to prove we can do it alone . . .
Having someone to talk to, to share ideas with, to support you in going for excellence and not quitting on yourself is a rare gift. When you are feeling down and it all seems too hard to continue, those are the moments that a community can support you in rediscovering well-being. It’s easy to get discouraged. Life is full of disappointments, but when you realize you’re not traveling that road alone, you can keep going.
When you’re in a community, you realize that you make a difference, that you matter. This supports you in being your true self and supporting others as well, which is truly satisfying.
Our nation is divided in so many ways, especially from a political perspective. In May of this year I wrote an article Us Against Them Mentality, that addressed this type of party divisiveness.
The simple point I want to make today, however, is that I believe we need to make a concerted effort to pull away from the Me, Myself, and I paradigm and adopt an Us outlook. Doing so opens up so many healthy possibilities:
we’ll be more aware of the needs around us;
conversely, we’ll be more inclined to accept help when offered;
we’ll be giving others – friends and strangers – an opportunity to exercise their strengths in the midst of our weaknesses;
we’ll build community where previously none existed;
we’ll release positive energy into our little portion of the universe, rather than infect that same space with selfishness, hatred, and bitterness.
It’s virtually impossible to be a violent person – in actions or in words – if we’re practicing what is listed in the above bullet points. If we truly live our lives outwardly, we’ll create a binding strength that will make us stronger as individuals, while also creating an indestructible civilization that can stand up against anything that gets thrown in its path. I certainly can’t say the same for the Me, Myself, and I method of existence.
No. I alone can not do it . . . no one can.
The sooner we realize that fact, the better off we’ll all be.
Don and Pat Desaulniers (who later changed the spelling of their surname to Desonier to make it easier for Americans to pronounce…it didn’t, they still slaughtered the pronunciation) and Donald and Mary Desaulniers moved to Philadelphia, PA from Canada and eventually relocated to Los Angeles, CA.
Not me. I was born in Pasadena, CA shortly after my family moved to the west coast. Does it get any more American than that?
You see, way back when, my father was a hard working employee of Manufacturer’s Life Insurance Company, an international company based out of Toronto, CANADA, and he was offered a position in !AMERICA! that he felt he couldn’t refuse because he loved his wife and young family and was given the opportunity to move up in the company’s employee ranks and by God he jumped at the opportunity. My father retired from Manulife after 50 years of service with them.
Such a cutie, that brother of mine
My parents felt strongly about being an involved, integral part of American society so they let go of their Canadian citizenships and became American citizens along with my brother and sister, and of course since I was born in America, I was instantaneously a citizen. Lucky me.
My fabulous immigrant sister
I’m quite certain most people reading this post can trace their ancestry to other countries, and many of you don’t have to go very far back – just as I only needed to go back to the early 40s with my immediate family to find the start of my ancestry’s foray from a foreign country into the United States.
Other than Dad, no additional members of his family of six moved to the United States but four of six adult children in my mother’s family of eight are immigrants. Counting my siblings, aunts and uncles, and numerous cousins, close to 68% of my immediate Desaulniers/Conroy family members made the move to the United States and I assure you, they were welcomed, and as far as I know, the United States still treats its Canadian immigrants as they did my parents so many years ago. Or maybe I missed current headlines declaring that Canadians weren’t welcome and that a wall should be built between our northern border with Canada…
Did I miss something?
Why aren’t American citizens up in arms about the influx of immigrants from non-Muslim countries and those from countries that aren’t Mexico who’ve made the United States their home: Canadians, Eastern Europeans, the French, Italians, Australians, New Zealanders and Germans to name just a few? Americans’ arms are spread wide for those who aren’t a part of America’s “no-entry” list, and I applaud their generous gesture.
Answer me this: do intelligent Americans actually believe that if you’re coming into our country from a primarily Muslim country, you’re a terrorist? Seriously? And do those same Americans believe that immigrants from Mexico are murderers and rapists and have taken away the jobs in which they, the Americans, are most interested?
I believe as my parents did, that when you’re living in a country and benefiting from its resources you should give back to the country, which sometimes means becoming a citizen but not always. What about those legal immigrants who – having families just like mine – want to do all they can to create a safe, healthy, and financially secure existence for their loved ones by working in America, getting involved in commerce (aka buying stuff in America), volunteering in their communities, and being good neighbors? They are an integral part of the melting pot that we so proudly boast as being what a well-rounded and diverse society should look like.
I don’t know, maybe we should just scrape the inscription off the Statue of Liberty if indeed Americans are no longer willing to welcome those whom we’ve graciously invited to our very shores for so many years. If the invitation is no longer being extended – or if it’s being ruthlessly discriminatory – don’t tease the huddled masses from afar, and don’t pretend to be the extraordinary country I’ve called my home since 1953.
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
A little bit of backstory about myself: I was raised Roman Catholic, then in the late 70s I steered clear of any religious involvement for several years, then I became a born again Christian in 1981, actively involved for thirteen years, then in the late 90s, I went back to the Catholic church and was very active in said church, then in 2013 I abandoned that church for good when intolerance was exhibited regarding gay marriage.
I didn’t, and don’t, believe that everyone in the Catholic church is intolerant – not at all – but when the local Catholic archdiocese instructed parish priests on how to block a political vote for gay marriage, I was outta there. One of those measures saw a petition table set up during church services so that people could voice – by their signature – their opposition to the measure.
That went over the line of separation between church and state. My worship space was violated: the space where a loving community of fellow believers assembled to worship God and emulate Christ.
I’m pretty damn familiar with the Bible. During my thirteen years in an evangelical church, I read the big book from beginning to end twice a year, I went to church three times a week and heard many, many scripture readings and sermons, and I went to Bible study once a week. For several years I led a Bible study group for single mothers – myself being one at the time.
Anyone who has read the Bible, regardless of how he or she may interpret some of the teachings therein, has to conclude and profess that God is about love; that to live a life modeled after Christ is to live a life in which love, acceptance, inclusiveness, and lack of judging ones fellow man is at the forefront.
I’ve seen many news and social media postings over the years – and increasingly so during this current election cycle – where hatred oozes from the words on the page. These postings written in the name of God and/or Christ spew hatred in record volumes. They are:
Anti-Muslim
Anti-gay
Anti-immigrant
Anti-younameit
Bear with me for a moment. Let’s pretend that Jesus Christ – savior, prophet, and Son of God – is alive and physically present at this writing. He goes to work like everyone else; he purchases his venti double-shot latte at his favorite Starbucks just like you and me; he mows his lawn, washes his car, gets stuck in traffic just like the rest of us mortals. In short, he’s participating in life as many of us know it.
When Jesus is standing at the water cooler on a Friday afternoon with the rest of his coworkers discussing the upcoming weekend’s plans, and/or the state of the current election season, is he full of love or hate for those with whom a certain percentage of our society have a bone to pick?
Does a homophobic slur escape from his lips when someone known to be gay at his work place announces his plans to participate in that weekend’s Pride Parade?
Does he elbow a fellow nine-to-fiver in the ribs and say, “Here! Here!” when that employee speaks ill of people of certain faiths?
Does Jesus get on the anti-immigrant bandwagon and ask, “Where do I sign up for that wall construction? God knows, I’m pretty darn good with tools!”
Is that the Son of God that exists in the Bible?
Is his intolerant and judgmental behavior what one would expect of a child of God?
I don’t think so.
So why are so many children of God behaving that way? The manner in which they discard Christ’s teachings makes one think that these mere mortals believe they know better – and are better – than the person after whom they are supposed to be modeling themselves.
Please, if that’s the case, don’t call yourself a follower of the loving, forgiving, God I grew up knowing.
Give yourself a different moniker than Christ-ian.
How about:
Herod-ians?
JudasIscariat-ians?
Abimilech-ians?
Absalom-ians?
Jeroboam-ians?
Belshazzar-ians?
Pick a name, any name but “Christian” because you’re not representing the God of love; not by any stretch of the imagination.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve left something in my car and later regretted doing so. One item in particular that I REALLY regretted leaving in the trunk of my car was a can of frozen orange juice. I guess I didn’t forget it, it slipped out of my shopping bag and after awhile, once it had melted, it turned bad…real bad and stunk up my car. Fortunately the smell alerted me to the neglected juice can so I could retrieve it and thoroughly clean out my trunk to eliminate the stench of rotted, putrid, orange juice.
Okay, true confession time. Let me be totally honest with you, there have been other items I’ve left in my car, the fact that they existed having completely slipped my mind:
Cell phone
Water bottle
Briefcase
Umbrella
Jacket
Bag of snacks
iPod
So yes, I can readily be accused of forgetting something in my car that should have been brought into the house.
But I never left my child in my car.
I never forgot I had a daughter and then “slap myself on the forehead” ran out to retrieve her to bring her inside the house.
What’s going on these days that some parents now go about their day, fully oblivious to the fact that earlier in the day they had placed a child in his or her carseat in the heat of the day, and that if the child isn’t in the house when you enter the house, there must be some place where he or she may be located?
Or when you go to work, having placed a child in the carseat earlier in the day, you somehow work your shift and then return to your car, drive home, and then remember you and your spouse gave birth to this little bundle of dehydrated flesh some x-years ago?
Are we so distracted that a living, human being slips our minds?
How can one explain this extraordinary occurrence of parents forgetting their children in their vehicles?
Hell, I didn’t even leave my child unattended in my vehicle just because my store errand would only be 5 minutes! No, too many things could have happened during that five minutes and I wasn’t about to chance any of those from occurring to the little girl I carried in the warmth and protection of my womb. I would rather be inconvenienced having to unstrap her from the carseat – even if she had fallen asleep and desperately needed some Zzzz time – and carry a crying child into the store for my five minute errand than risk anything happening to my most cherished possession.
The fact that car manufacturers are now developing alarm systems in vehicles to alert a parent to the existence of their flesh and blood seems rather alarming in itself…doesn’t it?
You know how it is. You don’t want to feel numb. You know that numbness is just pain postponed. Novocained. You know that, in order to get through this, you’ve got to feel. And so you go about your day. You get in the car. You turn on the radio. Some of the speakers […]
Older people are no different from any of us. People with dementia are no different from us. They all, we all, have the same feelings and needs.
They want to laugh and be silly, they want to be listened to and be taken seriously, they want to be reassured and loved, they want to love and be helpful, make a contribution, just like everyone else.
I learned that here.
It is my hope that all of us learn that same lesson so that whomever is in our lives, so that all those with whom we come in contact, we’ll be able to recognize ourselves in them and perhaps treat them with the respect for which all of us yearn.
While waiting for an appointment the other day, I picked up the May 2016 issue of O Magazine and read a brief article by author Elizabeth Gilbert, of Eat, Pray, Love fame in which she relayed her experience riding a cross town bus in New York City – a bus filled with sweaty, disgruntled, rude, and combative passengers. It was the end of the business day for most and from Ms. Gilbert’s perspective, it appeared that every one of them – her included – had had a shitty day. Add to that, the weather was less than accommodating.
The bus driver got on the intercom and announced (I’m paraphrasing here):
I know you’ve all had a lousy day for one reason or another. You’re either upset about something that happened to you today or by what’s currently going on in your lives.
This is what I’d like you to do. When it comes to your bus stop, I’ll hold out my hand and I want all of you to drop your troubles in my hand as you exit the bus. When I get to the Brooklyn Bridge, I’m going to toss all of your troubles out my window.
Will you do that for me?
You can imagine the mixture of mumbling and giggling that ensued after that announcement but at the very first stop, the disembarking passengers symbolically dropped their troubles into the driver’s out-stretched hand.
And then every passenger did the same at each stop along the route.
What a wonderful gift that driver gave to all the perfect strangers that rode his bus that afternoon, a gift that cost him nothing but benefitted so many.
Every day, in so many ways, you and I have the ability to lighten another person’s load.
If you are a cyclist who rides his or her bike on paved or unpaved trails meant for both walkers and cyclists, please hear my plea:
Offering an “On your left!” when you pass me on the trail will go a long ways towards endearing you to me.
My husband and I took a six mile walk on the Sammamish River Trail from Redmond to Woodinville this morning. This paved trail is used by walkers, joggers, roller bladers, parents with strollers, cyclists, you name it. It’s there for all of us to enjoy. Please understand that as a walker, I can not hear you coming up behind me: your sophisticated bicycle doesn’t alert me to your imminent arrival until you’ve zoomed past me, sometimes causing me to lose my footing or at the very least, jump starting my heart to where it need not jump. This shock to the walker’s system can be avoided by a simple announcement on your part that you’re about to pass me on the left.
To those who did announce themselves, my husband and I yelled an equally as loud, “Thank you!”
To those who did not announce themselves, they heard us shout, “Warning please!”
How inconvenient or difficult is it for you to either ring your handlebar bell or shout “On the left!” as you approach our backsides?
Young or old, two thirds of those who passed us from behind did not announce themselves. And lest my readers think we were walking in the middle of the path so as to be a hindrance to cyclists, we were not. We always hug the right side of the path to allow for oncoming and upcoming cyclists. We’re all supposed to share the path – that’s what we do.
None of those to whom we shouted, “Warning please!” apologized for their rude oversight. A simple, “Sorry!” or “My bad!” would have sufficed.
Stock photo, not my hubby and I. We don’t even own a dog.
All I’m asking is that cyclists extend the courtesy of letting walkers know they’re about to whiz past them so they can be sure to get even further out of their way. Each and every time a rider alerted us to their presence, my husband and I thanked them and moved more to the right, to which the cyclists said, “Thank you!” What a delightful and courteous exchange, don’t you think?
A collision between cyclist and rider would most certainly cause severe harm to both.
That’s sure to ruin both our days, don’t you think?
Dedicated to unappreciated care partners worldwide. Thank you for all you do. Dear random person who sees my care partner from time to time and feels the need to point out s/he has bruises all over her/his body that look frightening and s/he has really declined a lot since the last time you saw her/him and…
What in the world are we gonna do with all the relentless separation of our country’s citizens – a separation that takes on the trappings of political parties.
Republicans vs. Democrats
A Republican and a Democrat walk into a See’s candy store, both standing at the display case filled with dozens of dark and milk chocolate candies. Some have nuts, some have brittle. Some are round, some are square.
Ms. R says to the store clerk, “Give me one each of every milk chocolate candy you have. I LOVE milk chocolate and can’t get enough of it.”
Ms. D overhears Ms. R and thinks, “Well, I sure love milk chocolate and quite frankly can’t stand the taste of dark chocolate but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be in agreement with that woman.“
Ms. D says to the store clerk, “I’d like one each of every dark chocolate candy you have.”
The clerk recognizes Ms. D because she’s been in the store at least once a week since she started working at the Starbucks next door. “Ms. D are you sure you want dark chocolate? You don’t like dark chocolate, you only like – “
“You must have me mistaken for someone else. I always order dark chocolate when I come in here. I don’t want to have anything to do with milk chocolate; it’s dark chocolate all the way for me.”
*******
There’s an entire world of Mr. & Ms. Rs and Mr. & Ms. Ds who on principle alone choose to disagree with each other. Climate change is one of those issues that has become a partisan issue. The earth’s climate has gotten hotter and hotter each year. I’m quite certain that the 97% of scientists who assert that climate change is real are affiliated with every recognized political party out there. They didn’t have to be of one unified party to come to their conclusion because the facts speak louder than any one person – or party – could.
All temperature records point to a warmer Earth year after year.
It’s been proffered that those who oppose the theory of global warming do so because of the profits certain companies can make keeping everything status quo. I guess conversely one could say that those who affirm the global warming theory do so because of the profits certain earth-saving companies can make by changing things up.
This is my theory on the matter. I think us humans don’t like to be made to feel guilty about f’ing up the atmosphere.
Trust me, I like status quo when it comes to many things in my life but I’m not so blind or closed-minded to suggest that the current world’s population of 7,322,976,778 (as of this writing) and the US population of 323,500,455 have nothing to do with the function of the planet. To think such a thing would be so utterly moronic that I refuse to believe that anyone could in good conscience conclude that we’re doing absolutely fine the way we’re handling things.
We don’t like being told that we have to do something different to save the planet we’ve been destroying for centuries on end.
Leave me and my god damn SUV alone!
I’ll monitor my own water usage, thank you very much! I’m paying for it, for God’s sake. No utility has the right to suggest that I’m using more than my share! If I’m willing to pay for my water usage, I shouldn’t have to cut back one drop!
I recycle more than I create garbage. I think I’ve done my part to save my portion of the planet! I mean, what more can an average citizen be expected to do?
There are so many things we can do to reduce our carbon footprint – our impact – on the world at large. And there are so many dedicated websites that very clearly show us how to do that. As I close, I leave you with just a few of those sites:
What harm is there in believing in the theory of climate change and global warming, anyway? Wouldn’t it be a good thing if we were to take measures to preserve the only home we’ll ever have?
It seems we’re so trained to treat the world as our own personal entertainment venue that when it comes to a mentally challenged man’s fate, we don’t give a shit what happens to him. We the inconvenienced public stand at the base of an 80 foot tree into which he’s climbed in one of the busiest sections of downtown Seattle, Washington and we shout:
“Shoot him!”
Jump!”
What the hell is wrong with us that we so carelessly thrust our complete lack of empathy at this man with words that could very well have ended his life right before our eyes?
Frack you
those who treated this human being’s frailty with such callousness!
The Middle-Age Surge written by columnist, David Brooks, is a fabulous expose on what it really means to be living in ones “middle ages.” He reviews the book, Life Reimagined, by Barbara Bradley Hagerty while also proposing that the idea of mid-life crisis is truly a myth that many don’t see as being applicable to them. I mean seriously, people, how many friends or coworkers of yours purchased a zippy sports car when they hit their mid-40s or later?
Many years ago I briefly dated a guy who drove a gold-colored early model Porsche. On my third date with him, I said, “You know what they say about guys who drive Porsches, don’t you?” His response was nowhere near the statement I was going to provide that centered around over-compensation for short-comings. He said, “Yeah, they have lots of money.”
Not even close.
Anyway, Mr. Brooks quotes theologian Karl Barth who described midlife in this manner:
The sowing is behind; now is the time to reap. The run has been taken; now is the time to leap. Preparation has been made; now is the time for the venture of the work itself.
I can unabashedly declare that I can look back on my life with a more refined foundation of wisdom; I can move forward, not haphazardly, but with focus and intent. I know what’s important to accomplish before my time on this earth comes to an end, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way of my doing so. (So watch out publishers, I’m knocking on your doors!)
The people who find meaning at this stage often realize the way up is down. They get off that supervisor’s perch and put themselves in direct contact with the people they can help the most. They accept that certain glorious youthful dreams won’t be realized, but other, more relational jobs turn out to be more fulfilling.
One of the conclusions the columnist comes to is that the mature mid-life folks “are less likely, given all the judgments that have been made, to care about what other people think.”
I started this Blog site in September 2011. Five and a half years later I’ve reached a milestone with this entry: my 700th post.
I don’t know what is the average survival rate of a Blog. I guess as long as the host has something to say and is willing to be consistent in her/his efforts, it can last quite some time.
Four years after the death of my father to Alzheimer’s disease I started looking into what all this blogging crapola was about. I felt my experience as a caregiver, coupled with my work as a long-term care ombudsman for the State of Washington (now retired), gave me ample ammunition for subject matters that relate to our aging population … but not just to our aging population, to all of you who are faced with the struggles inherent from having aging loved ones.
About half way through my Blogging experience I changed the “About this Blog” portion of my website to reflect that there is a commonality among those problems experienced by young and old alike. Those problems may look somewhat different on the outside but all of them involve the following sentiment:
Life sometimes throws curve balls at us for which none of us are prepared.
I guess I still maintain this Blog because I still have something to say, and some people out there still need to hear it.
My local newspaper, the Seattle Times, has a daily mini-column titled, Rant and Rave. I always read that column, but I’m most interested in the Raves because acts of kindness are spotlighted. As you can see in the attached link, one portion of the column is affirming, the other, not so much.
Allow me to go back in history for a brief moment: March 1991 saw astonishing violence exhibited toward an African American, Rodney King, resultant from Mr. King’s decision not to pull over during a high-speed chase when pursued by Los Angeles Police Department officers. Officers were tried in a court of law for their excessive use of violence and three of those officers were acquitted, sparking the historical 1992 Los Angeles riots. Mr. King observed said violence and was upset at what transpired during those riots. What follows is a portion of his response to the ensuing actions and his plea for peace:
This growth of intolerance toward those who have an opinion different from our own has got to stop. Even if I am diametrically opposed to the opinions of others, the core of who I am must allow for at least an openness to hear from those whose core speaks differently. Listening doesn’t mean converting; it means allowing others the freedom to believe what they believe but only as long as such beliefs don’t promote actions or words that denigrate and ostracize all of us who are struggling to survive in the very limited time we have on this Earth.
There were escalators to ride up and down and quite frankly I got confused and arriving at the top of an escalator, I found myself right back where I started. The security guard – whose job it was to stand at the street entrance to the store – noticed me, waved, and walked over to me.
Why do we do it?
Won’t you join me?
I’ve been authoring this blog, Baby Boomers and More, for five and a half years. Perhaps that’s a record for blog ownership, I’m not sure, but what I do know is that I thoroughly enjoy writing about matters of significance. I guess that’s why my blog has survived as long as it has: there are a heck of a lot of things going on in the world that fall into that category.
If we consider all the people with whom we come in contact as being members of the same team, we will do all we can to support them. We’ll bolster rather than compete; we’ll pick them up rather than step over them as a means to an end; we’ll exhibit respect for each other’s talents while nurturing our own; we’ll not take advantage of weaknesses in order to falsely boost our own strengths. In short, we’ll stand by our teammates and want only the very best for them.
When a person or a group of people stoop low in the way they communicate or behave towards you or others:
In keeping with my Friday/weekly posting of articles that celebrate doing good and loving our neighbors, I am reposting this piece from December 2014 that encourages reaching out to those whom we see – however casually – on an ongoing basis in our neighborhoods. We just came back from 10 days away from home and our neighbors not only monitored our house, but when the region was threatened with a storm, they took pictures of the front and back of our house and texted them to us to show our house was still standing. So generous.
I published this post in June of 2015. I am re-blogging it today as part of my weekly effort to propose – and promote – kindness. Just as we have the ability to recognize happiness in our own daily lives, we can also nurture a better quality of life in others, one small act of kindness at a time.
Lately, it seems everywhere I look I read articles about the importance of neighborhood connections. In the past few days I wrote two articles specifically addressing that concept: The importance of good neighbors, and Positive community activism.
The attached article above, written by Froma Harrop, compares today’s community with that which existed in the movie It’s a wonderful life, an annual Holiday classic. George Bailey’s bank customers and neighbors were people with whom he had a connection, “of varying incomes, education, and ethnicity. Each of them was an individual, not just a useful provider of a good or service.” Ms. Harrop goes on to say that the middle ring of society – as existed in George Bailey’s life – has been weakened over the years. Her article outlines her belief…
The longer our lifespan, the more likely each of us will need to be cared for. But one need not be elderly to require such care. Many illnesses strike without thought for a person’s stage in life.
My sister, Mary Riesche of Mary Riesche Studios, inspired this blog post.
Mind you, I am perfectly capable of accomplishing many things for which I require very little – if any – assistance. But when I attempt to do something for which others’ participation may add strength – emotional or otherwise – and value to my efforts, I’m welcoming of others’ participation.
It’s virtually impossible to be a violent person – in actions or in words – if we’re practicing what is listed in the above bullet points. If we truly live our lives outwardly, we’ll create a binding strength that will make us stronger as individuals, while also creating an indestructible civilization that can stand up against anything that gets thrown in its path. I certainly can’t say the same for the Me, Myself, and I method of existence.
A little bit of backstory about myself: I was raised Roman Catholic, then in the late 70s I steered clear of any religious involvement for several years, then I became a born again Christian in 1981, actively involved for thirteen years, then in the late 90s, I went back to the Catholic church and was very active in said church, then in 2013 I abandoned that church for good when intolerance was exhibited regarding gay marriage.
Bear with me for a moment. Let’s pretend that Jesus Christ – savior, prophet, and Son of God – is alive and physically present at this writing. He goes to work like everyone else; he purchases his venti double-shot latte at his favorite Starbucks just like you and me; he mows his lawn, washes his car, gets stuck in traffic just like the rest of us mortals. In short, he’s participating in life as many of us know it.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve left something in my car and later regretted doing so. One item in particular that I REALLY regretted leaving in the trunk of my car was a can of frozen orange juice. I guess I didn’t forget it, it slipped out of my shopping bag and after awhile, once it had melted, it turned bad…real bad and stunk up my car. Fortunately the smell alerted me to the neglected juice can so I could retrieve it and thoroughly clean out my trunk to eliminate the stench of rotted, putrid, orange juice.
But I never left my child in my car.
Black, brown, or white.
In the book A Different Perspective on Alzheimer’s and Other Dementias: Practical Tools with Spiritual Insights, author Megan Carnarius relayed a conversation she had with one of the employees she supervised in a long-term care facility who was moving out of state. Ms. Carnarius asked this young caregiver what she had learned from her job of four years. This is what she said,
While waiting for an appointment the other day, I picked up the May 2016 issue of O Magazine and read a brief article by author Elizabeth Gilbert, of Eat, Pray, Love fame in which she relayed her experience riding a cross town bus in New York City – a bus filled with sweaty, disgruntled, rude, and combative passengers. It was the end of the business day for most and from Ms. Gilbert’s perspective, it appeared that every one of them – her included – had had a shitty day. Add to that, the weather was less than accommodating.
The bus driver got on the intercom and announced (I’m paraphrasing here):
If you are a cyclist who rides his or her bike on paved or unpaved trails meant for both walkers and cyclists, please hear my plea:
Young or old, two thirds of those who passed us from behind did not announce themselves. And lest my readers think we were walking in the middle of the path so as to be a hindrance to cyclists, we were not. We always hug the right side of the path to allow for oncoming and upcoming cyclists. We’re all supposed to share the path – that’s what we do.
A Republican and a Democrat walk into a See’s candy store, both standing at the display case filled with dozens of dark and milk chocolate candies. Some have nuts, some have brittle. Some are round, some are square.
There’s an entire world of Mr. & Ms. Rs and Mr. & Ms. Ds who on principle alone choose to disagree with each other. Climate change is one of those issues that has become a partisan issue. The earth’s climate has gotten hotter and hotter each year. I’m quite certain that the 97% of scientists who assert that climate change is real are affiliated with every recognized political party out there. They didn’t have to be of one unified party to come to their conclusion because the facts speak louder than any one person – or party – could.
It seems we’re so trained to treat the world as our own personal entertainment venue that when it comes to a mentally challenged man’s fate, we don’t give a shit what happens to him. We the inconvenienced public stand at the base of an 80 foot tree into which he’s climbed in one of the busiest sections of downtown Seattle, Washington and we shout:
The Middle-Age Surge written by columnist, David Brooks, is a fabulous expose on what it really means to be living in ones “middle ages.” He reviews the book, Life Reimagined, by Barbara Bradley Hagerty while also proposing that the idea of mid-life crisis is truly a myth that many don’t see as being applicable to them. I mean seriously, people, how many friends or coworkers of yours purchased a zippy sports car when they hit their mid-40s or later?
I can unabashedly declare that I can look back on my life with a more refined foundation of wisdom; I can move forward, not haphazardly, but with focus and intent. I know what’s important to accomplish before my time on this earth comes to an end, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way of my doing so. (So watch out publishers, I’m knocking on your doors!)I started this Blog site in September 2011. Five and a half years later I’ve reached a milestone with this entry: my 700th post.
I witnessed a sad occurrence at my local grocery store the other day. Read the rest of this entry »
Living: the ultimate team sport 