Have you ever been on the receiving end of encouragement? Of course you have. Referring again to my daily-read book, The Power of Kindness, by Piero Ferucci, he calls that type of kindness”
“a warming help: attention and a kind word in a difficult moment.”
My across the street neighbor, Eva, is an enthusiastic, lively person – kind of like me if I do say so myself. We get along quite well. Unfortunately, we don’t get together often enough because life gets in the way. Yep, the intricacies of life even get in the way of spending time with decidedly beautiful people.
When Eva and I get together we operate on the same wavelength: we love people more than we hate people, we get excited about similar things, and we lift each other up just by sharing our energy with each other. And when one of us is down or blahness seems to have taken over our personal orbit, time spent with each other erases a good portion of that blahness. I’m close to twenty years older than Eva, but that doesn’t matter in the least. When we’re together, we’re Besties, and we’re the same age. Period.
Without fail, each and every time we leave each other – whether at the conclusion of a neighborhood walk or a lunch date – Eva throws me kisses. Saying goodbye until next time isn’t good enough for my neighbor, instead, she gives me something that lasts and also makes me feel good about the time I’ve spent with her. Just thinking about those thrown kisses are a warming help that is sometimes needed during my day. Quite frankly, just writing about it has already improved my day exponentially.
My sister and I as teenagers, and the rest of the familyMy novel, REQUIEM FOR THE STATUS QUO, contains a scene where Patrick Quinn – many years before his Alzheimer’s diagnosis – wakes up his high school aged daughters on April 1st and announces that local public high school students have the day off to honor April Fools’ Day. His daughters attend a parochial school – church based – and when they hear of said day off, they become incensed.
The girls get out of bed – anger seething below the surface of their drowsy bedheads – cross their arms, and they yell, “That’s not fair!”
Patrick agrees, April Fools’ Day is no reason to have a day off from school . . . then he claps his hands together, and barely stifling a laugh, he says, “Gotcha!”
That exact scene happened to my sister and I – thus the reason why I had to include it in my novel. My father had the keenest sense of humor – a funny bone that stayed with him even while the plaques and tangles in his brain leeched the very life out of him. As a family, we were very fortunate that his humor survived until the very end. That is not always the case, as readers will discover when they meet the other characters in my novel whose disease journey is far from cool, calm, and collected.
REQUIEM FOR THE STATUS QUO, release date: July 20 2017.
I think we can all agree that what makes the headline news is rarely the pleasant things that occur around us. Horror sells newspapers.
Mr. Ferrucci says the following regarding that unfortunate truth:
There may be murder, there may be violence, and there may be selfishness, but most human beings at heart are helpful and supportive. Cruelty makes the headlines precisely because it is the exception.
But the world goes on because we care for one another . . .
And yet life goes on precisely because we are kind to one another. No newspaper tomorrow will tell of a mother who read a bedtime story to her child, or a father who prepared breakfast for his children, of someone who listened with attention, of a friend who cheered us up, of a stranger who helped us carry a suitcase.
Think of how long our world has been in existence and consider all the mayhem that has played out as described in history books and in front of our very eyes.
Yet, the world goes on.
Kindness and caring have sufficiently sustained us through wars, terrorism, pestilence, and other natural disasters.
It seems appropriate, therefore, that we should feed kindness so its supply never runs out.
Perhaps some day cruelty will run out of steam and die a natural death.
I own a book – kind of a devotional, but not religious – that I read each morning, Live Your Dash, by Linda Ellis. The subtitle is Make Every Moment Matter. Ms. Ellis’s book encourages readers to live well in the time between the dash that exists between the day we were born and the day we die. Today’s Kindness post directly quotes an excerpt from her book that I thought was relevant to the subject at hand.
Your name, as spoken, and as remembered, represents more than your reputation. Through the years, it becomes an embodiment of the ways in which you have lived your dash, and touched others’ lives.
Live your life in such a manner that when you imagine your name being spoken in your absence, there will never be a desire (or need) to be present to defend it.
While on errands the other day – during a very busy time of day in the middle of a downtown Redmond, WA construction zone – traffic was pretty much bumper to bumper and getting to my appointment on time was proving to be a waning possibility.
On the two lane road upon which I was driving, the car directly in front of me stopped to let another car out of the business park on the right. I’m quite certain that made that driver’s day – I know my day has been improved inordinately when that grace has been extended to me.
Approximately five minutes later a car coming toward me in the opposite lane put on his turn signal, indicating he wanted to turn into a driveway coming up on my right; he would need to turn in front of my car to do so.
Looks like that earlier driver who extended a courtesy rubbed off on me. I stopped, motioned the car through, and then went on my way.
My day was delayed by a whole eight seconds.
The point of this mini-kindness post is that I immediately wanted to replicate what that previous driver had done. That driver’s kindness gave me yet more proof that when kindnesses are extended, such kindnesses can influence others. Sure, hatred spreads like wildfire, but kindness can snuff out that fire and benefit so many.
That’s the kind of influence with which I want to be associated. How about you?
I met my husband on September 21st, 1996. In the 21 years since that first date, I guarantee my body/looks have changed – as would be expected.
And as is also expected – if you’re me – is you become self-conscious of parts of your body that don’t quite resemble the version from two decades ago. You avoid extensive interaction with a mirror when you step out of the shower, quickly covering up all the body bits that have betrayed you over the years.
Well, not betrayed, just relocated and representing themselves differently than before.
Guess what? My husband compliments me time and again, never pointing out the changes because quite frankly, he doesn’t see them. No, he’s not blind; when I say he doesn’t see them, I mean he doesn’t see them. He sees me, the woman he met in 1996, married in 2000, and who daily recommits himself to me for a lifetime. Love isn’t blind, it’s also not critical. Love is accepting.
My life took an exciting turn when I signed a book contract on February 17, 2017 for my novel, Requiem for the status quo. When I started to write this novel in December 2012, five years after my father died from Alzheimer’s disease, I had the goal of seeing it published and in the hands of readers everywhere. I thought I knew how difficult it would be to secure a publisher, but I was wrong . . .
I had no idea how difficult a task it would be. I was so proud of the story, a story that was inspired by my years of caring for my father with Alzheimer’s disease, that I figured if I loved it enough, others would love it too.
One hundred queries to agents and publishers later, it’s now slated to be published this summer.
Great news, right? Absolutely great news but then, as many authors will tell you, the real work began, and with that real work came real stress and worry. Those added ingredients to my publication status robbed me of enjoying the moment, of celebrating my accomplishment – of being here. I abandoned the comfort of the present, of being mindful of what was going on in my life, where I could celebrate and relish the attainment of my publication goal. Instead, I focused on the future where fear and worry reside. I was living in a time and space that didn’t even exist, and I resided there for an entire week, and suffered the consequences: lack of sleep, dis-ease, and distress.
But I’m back, and I’m accomplishing task after task after task and thoroughly enjoying the process.
I’m now reaping the benefits of Being Here, right where I’m supposed to be.
While grocery shopping at a very busy store earlier this week, I witnessed a kindness extended toward another shopper at the check-out line.
My groceries were in the process of being scanned and bagged when another customer pushed her cart to the same checkstand where I was being helped.
The male Checker extended the following greeting to the customer:
“Well, good afternoon to you Ms. Parker! It’s so nice to see you!”
I would guess Ms. Parker’s age to be just north of 85 years old. If you could have seen the look of pleasure on her face when that grocery employee greeted her and used her given name, you would have felt the same delight and good vibes as did I.
When my transaction was wrapped up and Ms. Parker took my place at the counter, the Checker said:
“I haven’t seen you in awhile; I’ve missed you! I’m so glad you’re here today.”
How do you think Ms. Parker felt having been personally greeted and figuratively taken into the arms of that employee?
I imagine it made her day.
That’s what I want to do, make someone’s day better than it was before their encounter with me.
There’s a new social media trend going on right now initiated by Ellen DeGeneres, Lady Gaga, Pharrell Williams, and Revlon. You can see their mini-video by visiting Ellen’s website. The trend is being expressed by these phrases:
#lovein3words
#theloveproject2017
With all the discord among the citizens of the United States due in part to a lack of discourse between groups who have purposefully alienated themselves from each other, perhaps love is the one quality with which we can clothe ourselves to be more open and accepting of each other.
We don’t have to agree with everyone’s opinions or leanings, but can’t we at least respect each other enough to listen?
Can’t we just listen without bringing our own preconceived perceptions and prejudices to the forefront?
This week’s kindness centers around the dining industry where waitstaff work their tails off for us gastronome-wannabes and oftentimes receive little thanks for it, other than what I hope is a decent-sized tip for excellent service.
My sister is visiting me from California, and with her visit coming on the heels of my publication contract, (see Irene Frances Olson – me! – has signed with a publisher) she wanted to take me out to lunch to celebrate. In between touring the Seattle Art Museum and attending the Northwest Flower & Garden Show, both in downtown Seattle, we settled in for a delicious lunch at Palomino Restaurant.
Our server for the day was a fine gentleman named Sam. After he introduced himself, my sister announced that she was treating me to lunch to celebrate my book contract. He was astounded, genuinely impressed that one of his customers was soon to be a published author. (I wonder if perhaps he is also a writer – or perhaps an actor – and therefore fully understands the enormity of the situation. Writing is like acting: many people want to break into these industries, but find little success in doing so.)
He asked all the appropriate questions about manuscript publication, honing in on the details of my novel’s roll-out process. He then asked what we would like for our beverage and I chose a half diet, half sugar loaded, Coke. My sister also ordered a Coke. He walked away to get our orders but returned within a minute’s time and said, and I paraphrase, “Wait a minute, you got a publishing contract and a Coke is what you’re ordering to celebrate? You sure?”
Unfortunately, I was sure, because if I had imbibed on my 1st choice – a margarita – the remainder of my day’s efforts would have fallen by the wayside. He complied with my request, and throughout our time at his table, served us attentively (but not over-attentively … we all know what that feels like). At one point during our lunch I told him I would be featuring his kindness for my weekly Kindness Fridays column. He asked for my blog website address so he could have a look-see when it’s published.
Toward the end of my our lunch, he asked about the storyline for REQUIEM FOR THE STATUS QUO. He was touched by its origin, saying how intrigued he was by the story, and sorry for our family’s experience.
I guess the way I would describe that day’s kindness is that I felt important and appreciated. I felt special.
And who doesn’t want to feel special now and again?
Last month my husband and I went on a 3-state driving trip. We hiked in two of the states: Joshua Tree National Park in California, and Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area in Nevada. We are crazy-ass hikers, and by that I mean that we are fully addicted to this activity and don’t function at 100% unless we hike at least two times a month. Because of our addiction – for which, thankfully, there is no 12-step recovery program – we hike whenever and wherever we can.
The hiking community is a a healthy one both socially and energetically; we’re like-minded people who love what we do so we’re all smiles and happy-go-lucky people. While on our challenging Red Rock Canyon hike – clambering over large boulders and trekking through snow and ice – we encountered one local couple who told us out-of-state visitors that the boulders in the portion of the trail we were about to encounter were extremely icy and slippery. Their helpful intel was all we needed to decide to cut our hike short.
Them were some tall boulders
On our return trip down this same trail, we encountered a recently retired couple from Washington State (the wife was wearing a Seattle Seahawks knit cap) and we shared in their joy of being retired by saying, “We’re retired too!” And what was so cute, a younger couple just coming up the trail met up with us and said, “We’re retired too!” Of course they weren’t, but they joined in with the jocularity and told us how much they were enjoying the hike and getting away from the Las Vegas gambling and drinking scene. The young man said, “Wow, hiking this place is like being in Lost Vegas!”
It was, and meeting up with like-minded people away from The Strip was our generous dose of kindness for the day.
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.
We’ve all been there. We lay out our carefully orchestrated plans – thinking we’ve arranged for every contingency – and then we find ourselves facing a roadblock for which we hadn’t planned. Yowza! Now what? My husband and I had that experience during a recent week-long Arizona trip. We flew into Las Vegas, NV, only using that locale as our arrival and departure location; no overnights.
The planned itinerary:
4 nights in Lake Havasu City, AZ to visit family. CHECK! And we had a delightful time as planned;
2 nights in Sedona, AZ to hike and experience all that this mystic location had to offer. NOPE! A snow storm changed those plans.
2 nights in the Grand Canyon, AZ area after Sedona. NOPE! A snow storm changed those plans as well.
We switched to a Plan B itinerary:
3 nights in Desert Hot Springs, CA to complete several hikes in Joshua Tree National Park. NOPE! Torrential rain and flooding.
We spent 2 nights in Desert Hot Springs and managed to squeeze in one hike before the monsoon descended. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves but we cut our visit short.
Plan C itinerary:
2 nights in Las Vegas, NV. CHECK!
When circumstances proved out of our control – and certainly weather falls into that category – we knew there was no sense in getting upset and raising our blood pressure over the whole matter; flexibility was the order of the day. If all those weather events hadn’t “interrupted” our vacation itinerary, we would have never had the opportunity to hike at Red Rock Canyon in Nevada. This place is so beautiful, that we decided to hike there two days in a row. The photos included in this blog are from that experience.
We’ll return to Arizona some time in the future to fulfill our Sedona and Grand Canyon bucket list items … but then again, who knows what places we’ll actually visit should Mother Nature decide to come along with us on our vacation once again.
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 reblogging this article I wrote in April of 2013 because it comes up in my blog stats as being extremely popular to many of you out there. I can only conclude that it’s popularity remains high because there are so many caregivers in the world who are tangled up in a daily life that centers around those with Alzheimer’s disease or other dementia. I hope many more will be encouraged – and pleasingly challenged – by what I have to say in this post.
Walk in Their Shoes… Just for a Minute. The attached article contains encouraging advice that caregivers worldwide need to read, and re-read, from time to time.
Those of us who have been caregivers to loved ones with Alzheimer’s or other dementia know very well the frustrations felt when we come to the realization that we’re not sufficiently equipped to handle that which this disease presents us. We’re walking in caregiver shoes, fully incapable of walking in those of the person with dementia. If we could, we would shriek at what we see and experience.
So we get frustrated – understandably so. We raise our voices in anger – and feel guilty immediately thereafter. We complain to others about the one we’re taking care of – because we crave to be heard and understood by someone!
PET scan of a human brain with Alzheimer’s disease (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Do not ask me to remember is a loaded statement and one which should give us pause. We know the person with dementia is not able to remember the previous five seconds, so why do we ask them to remember where and when they were born? Why do we think that repeating an answer LOUDLY AND WITH EMPHASIS will help the loved one remember this tenth time you’ve answered their same question? Why do we think they will understand our logical explanations about circumstances when their ability to understand anything requiring organization of thought is a function forsaken long ago by the brain that they’ve been stuck with?
Because we’re human – and we want order out of chaos, and we want the one for whom we are providing care to finally “get it.” And we want them to understand that this ain’t no cake walk for me so why aren’t you appreciating all that I do for you?
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.
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.
I have always valued my family, but maybe it’s my getting older – not ancient, just getting older like the rest of you – that causes that value to increase exponentially.
Between my husband and I, we have three daughters and two sons-in-law, with one grand baby to make his or her appearance early May 2017.
Irene’s daughter, Erin & her husband Kirby GreenJerry’s daughter, Lainey & her husband TJ PilandLainey, Jerry, & Jerry’s daughter Kirstin
Between Jerry and I we have three brothers and four sisters, plus all our siblings’ spouses (I apologize for not having photos of Jerry’s oldest brother, Leonard and his wife, Libby)
Irene w/her brother and sister: Don, & MaryDave Olson (also see below); Tricia & Ed Hamman; Sherry & Brad Menz; Jim & Wendy JungersGayle & Dave Olson
And lots of nieces and nephews (and grand nieces and grand nephews) because that’s what happens when your brothers and sisters get married and have kids.
There’s really no grand purpose in posting this family portrait, other than to express gratitude that I have so many family members in my life.
I am so rich as a result and I value every moment I spend with them.
A writer’s journey frequently contains many potholes, speed bumps, hairpin turns, and dead ends. For those who have yet to be published, what it rarely contains are successes and affirmations.
I received some not-so-good news the other day, and some good news.
The not so good news is that an agent I had hoped to secure contacted me about my second novel with a rejection. Wait, that’s not exactly true, he said he could not represent me at this time but he wanted to help me.
For those of you not familiar with the publishing business, 99% of all queries sent to agents are rejected. They receive thousands of queries (letters with sample pages) per year. Many are rejected because the writer didn’t thoroughly research an agent and therefore sent him or her sample pages for a genre the agent does not represent. An overwhelming amount of writers are rejected because they can’t even write a one-page query letter without mistakes that certainly might characterize what the writer’s entire manuscript may be like. And others are rejected because it just wasn’t a good fit for the agent or the agency … whatever that means.
Before I contact an agent I research him or her like a detective looking for a stray hair of evidence. I read interviews they have given, I follow them on Twitter to see how they conduct themselves on social media, I check databases for the titles they do represent, I do Google searches to learn of any hidden matters I should know that may make this agent someone I could work with, or someone I wouldn’t even want to stand in line behind at the happiest place on earth, Disneyland.
Eric is an agent I felt I would be honored to work with and I was right. He proved it that day when he e-mailed me, asking me to call him at his office in New York. I contacted him one and a half hours later – I had to ground myself before jumping into that conversation.
He started out by saying that I am well-loved by many people in New York. (I follow lots of New York industry people on Twitter and they follow me and apparently they like what they read on my blog.) He provided a genuine invitation to New York, saying should I visit his city, he would love to see me.
He then told me that he never calls writers he has chosen to reject. He doesn’t have the time or inclination to do so. But I was different.
“You have an excellent writing voice … You are an excellent writer, and because of that, I want to help you.”
He then provided substantive suggestions on how I may improve on my character development, point of view (writing in the 1st, 2nd, or 3rd person), ways to improve the dialogue so that it is less expository and more descriptive. He said if I work on my second novel incorporating his suggestions he would like me to resubmit that novel. When I asked if I could submit my third novel when it’s completed and submission-worthy, he said, “Absolutely.”
A couple hours later, I wrote him an e-mail letter, thanking him for providing constructive editorial suggestions, and almost more importantly, for affirming my abilities. He replied that it was a pleasure and an honor to do so, and that he looked forward to speaking with me again.
Maya Angelou is quoted as saying,
Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.
I’ve considered those sentiments as applying to the way I conduct myself in this world. I am a work in progress. I learn from my mistakes and nine times out of ten, I do better the next time. When I make mistakes and am not aware of them, however, I have no choice but to keep repeating those errors until either I discover the errors on my own or someone makes me aware of them.
I have queried two novels thus far and have received close to one hundred rejections, rejections that gave me no clue as to why those novels didn’t appeal to an agent; absolutely no input as to what I might do differently. So I kept writing and editing, and querying.
Thanks to Eric I can do better because I know better. And although I am seriously disappointed in not being someone he can represent at this time, I am encouraged because according to one agent who took the time to speak with me, I have what it takes to get published.
Color me grateful. Color me blessed. Color me proud.
You know what today is: the day before we all praise the heavens the election is over, and curse the results if they don’t go our way. Hope these humorous quips help you through the process.
Two friends with radically different political views are on their way to the polls on election day. One guy turns to the other and says “You know, we’ve argued about this for months, and we’re obviously going to vote for different candidates. Our votes will cancel each other out anyways, so why don’t we just call it a draw and go home instead?” Other guy agrees, they shake hands and part ways.
Another guy who overheard the conversation approaches the dealmaker and says with admiration, “That’s a real sportsmanlike offer you just made!” “Not really,” the guy says, “I’ve made that offer three times already today.”
********
“Daddy,” a little girl asked her father, “do all fairy tales begin with ‘Once upon a time’? ”
“No, sweetheart,” he answered. “Some begin with ‘If I am elected.'”
********
1. The problem with political jokes is they get elected. —Henry Cate, VII
2. I offer my opponents a bargain: if they will stop telling lies about us, I will stop telling the truth about them. —Adlai Stevenson
3. Why pay money to have your family tree traced; go into politics and your opponents will do it for you. —Author Unknown
4. George Washington is the only president who didn’t blame the previous administration for his troubles. —Author Unknown
5. If voting made any difference they wouldn’t let us do it. —Mark Twain
6. Bipartisan usually means that a larger-than-usual deception is being carried out. —George Carlin
7. There are always too many Democratic congressmen, too many Republican congressmen, and never enough US congressmen. —Author Unknown
8. We stand today at a crossroads: One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other leads to total extinction. Let us hope we have the wisdom to make the right choice. —Woody Allen
9. If you put your politicians up for sale, as the US does … then someone will buy them — and it won’t be you; you can’t afford them. —Juan Cole
10. When buying and selling are controlled by legislation, the first things to be bought and sold are legislators. —J. O’Rourke
11. In America, anyone can become president. That’s the problem. —George Carlin
12. The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter. —Winston Churchill
13. Anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that “my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge. —Isaac Asimov
14. Half of the American people have never read a newspaper. Half never voted for President. One hopes it is the same half. —Gore Vidal
15. A citizen of America will cross the ocean to fight for democracy, but won’t cross the street to vote in a national election. —Bill Vaughan
16. If pigs could vote, the man with the slop bucket would be elected swineherd every time, no matter how much slaughtering he did on the side. —Orson Scott Card
17. A politician thinks of the next election; a statesman thinks of the next generation. —James Freeman Clarke
It’s true. I haven’t experienced the high I get while hiking in the Pacific Northwest since our end of September hiking adventure. Shortly after that hike we traveled to Hawaii for a couple weeks and the two hikes we had planned to complete there were a bust.
On the Big Island of Hawaii the heat and humidity were the hike-spoilers for us. We’re not fair weather hikers – we’ve hiked in the rain and extremely cold temperatures before – but heat is a deal breaker for us. Even in Washington state we hike early in the day or not at all if temps on the trail will be 80 or above.
Then on the island of Maui – where temps near Haleakala crater were guaranteed to be in the 50s – we gathered our gear, climbed into our rental car, drove up eight miles of a single lane, severe hairpin-turn paved road, only to arrive at the dirt road that would lead us to the trailhead and find it was only traversable by 4-wheel drive vehicle. We’re veteran hikers so as I always do before a hike, I checked the trip reports and the State of Hawaii hike descriptions for any pertinent info we might need for that day’s adventure. There was no mention of the hazards requiring a 4-wheel drive vehicle and we sure as hell didn’t want to place our rental vehicle in jeopardy so we turned around.
That’s Mt. Rainier, folks, where we hiked early August
Disappointing, but at least I knew the week after we returned from our vacation we’d be scheduling a hike that would once again expose us to the expansive beauty we’ve grown to appreciate during our weekly hiking adventures.
Me & my hiking partner/hubby, on the Lake Twenty Two hike.
Fast forward to the morning after our late night return when yours truly missed the last stair as I ambled down to the first floor of our house and twisted my left ankle. Mind you, this is the same ankle that has managed to climb over rocks and boulders with nary an ankle tweak; an ankle that has even managed to jump off said boulders victorious and proud to be alive!
Kendall Katwalk that was NOT a cake walk
And let’s not forget THIS adventure where I conquered massive challenges and came out smelling like roses – or at least without any mangled body parts.
Alas, I accept my lot in life – knowing it’s only temporary – but not knowing how one might define “temporary” is a bit troubling for this Rocky Mountain High-kind of person.
Yep, I miss and crave the hiking high I’ve grown to love this past year, but there’s no need to feel sorry for me. My current situation has forced me to finalize the preparations leading up to writing my third novel in the 2016 NaNoWriMo month-long competition that begins November 1st.
I guess this is what was supposed to happen in order for me to write that bestseller over which publishers will surely clamber! If that’s the case I can be grateful that it will be awhile before I can satisfy my addictive cravings.
I sprained my ankle a few days ago so my mobility has been a wee bit restricted. My husband, my wonderful husband, has taken over ALL chores that we would normally split.
Said splitting includes laundry matters. I ventured out today for the first time in several days, driving and getting rid of to-dos on Irene’s to do list. Upon my return home, my most fabulous husband had cleared out all the baskets of soiled laundry needing attention and it wasn’t until I pulled items out of the dryer that I discovered he had washed and dried a pair of my jeans.
Now, living in the Pacific Northwest most people – male and female – own several pairs of denim pants. I own several but fortunately there was only one pair of my denim extremity-covers in the laundry basket. Apparently I own sufficient pairs of jeans that I can go a few days without wondering “what will I wear today?”
Anyway, the good news is that with all the hiking my husband and I have been doing, my jeans no longer fit my svelte body so more likely than not the jeans he washed and dried will fit me perfectly.
As for me? I’m not going to try on the machine-dried pair because I don’t want to discourage my husband’s generosity which pretty much year round – regardless of my physical limitations – is front and center 24/7.
So, thus said, I abdicate any perceived perfectly good reason to complain about my jeans.
After all, my most extraordinary husband was only doing what he felt would benefit me most. And jeans-fit or not, I’ve already benefitted.
The ledge to which I refer could be an actual ledge or it could be emblematic of an instance where the “woe is me” reflex actively takes over the peace and calm in which you luxuriated just seconds before.
If you’re like me in these instances – and I sincerely hope you are not – you assume the worst and project a dire outcome. This outcome projection may be somewhere near close to death, or even death itself if your imagination has its way with you. And guess what? If you’re like me – and this time I hope you are like me – you discover you were armed for bear but hunting squirrel.
Translation: your freak-out had no foundation on which to stand.
But we can get caught up in the emotion of it all, or the excruciating pain experience, and we start writing our obituary and wondering which photo should be included therein.
Case in point but definitely not as serious as death: my husband and I came back from a delightful two week vacation in Hawaii last week, arriving very late Wednesday evening, crawling into bed very early Thursday morning, one of us waking up mid-morning Thursday, ambling down the stairs for a cup of coffee, and missing the bottom stair.
Kerplunk!! Ass on the foyer hardwoods, my left ankle disgustingly twisted.
Quick action was required: plop my foot/leg on a pile of pillows and surround the mangled extremity with ice packs, of which we have many. Husband sitting to my right holding my hand – the perfect calming influence for me – me wondering if we’d be heading to the ER posthaste and should I change out of my nightclothes prior to doing so? And what about brushing my teeth? Should I forego such niceties?
Just one hour later having eased into being in the present moment rather than in some future moment, a trip to the ER became just a fantasy element of my creative literary mind. My ankle hurt like hell, but let’s face it, I was able to walk on it and if it were broken such efforts would have resulted in me landing on my derriere yet again because of a compromised bone structure required to prevent such a fall.
I did go to the doctor the following day just to make sure it wasn’t broken because I didn’t want to head into the weekend with that unknown looming over my head. And I’m glad I saw Dr. Liu, had I not, I wouldn’t have been able to add the following fashion accessory to my wardrobe:
I’m doing better with the armed for bear scenario ever since I started living the principles outlined in Ariel and Shya Kane’s many books, including Practical Enlightenment. I have a long way to go toward living in the moment 24/7, but I’m getting there faster than I would have in years past. And that’s a very good thing because where I live, bears and squirrels exist in abundance, and I’d rather not tangle with either of them.
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 …
Have you ever been on the receiving end of encouragement? Of course you have. Referring again to my daily-read book, The Power of Kindness, by Piero Ferucci, he calls that type of kindness”
My life took an exciting turn when I signed a book contract on February 17, 2017 for my novel, Requiem for the status quo. When I started to write this novel in December 2012, five years after my father died from Alzheimer’s disease, I had the goal of seeing it published and in the hands of readers everywhere. I thought I knew how difficult it would be to secure a publisher, but I was wrong . . .
There’s a new social media trend going on right now initiated by Ellen DeGeneres, Lady Gaga, Pharrell Williams, and Revlon. You can see their mini-video by visiting Ellen’s website. The trend is being expressed by these phrases:
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.
We’ve all been there. We lay out our carefully orchestrated plans – thinking we’ve arranged for every contingency – and then we find ourselves facing a roadblock for which we hadn’t planned. Yowza! Now what? My husband and I had that experience during a recent week-long Arizona trip. We flew into Las Vegas, NV, only using that locale as our arrival and departure location; no overnights.
We spent 2 nights in Desert Hot Springs and managed to squeeze in one hike before the monsoon descended. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves but we cut our visit short.
We’ll return to Arizona some time in the future to fulfill our Sedona and Grand Canyon bucket list items … but then again, who knows what places we’ll actually visit should Mother Nature decide to come along with us on our vacation once again.
I’m reblogging this article I wrote in April of 2013 because it comes up in my blog stats as being extremely popular to many of you out there. I can only conclude that it’s popularity remains high because there are so many caregivers in the world who are tangled up in a daily life that centers around those with Alzheimer’s disease or other dementia. I hope many more will be encouraged – and pleasingly challenged – by what I have to say in this post.
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’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:
Between my husband and I, we have three daughters and two sons-in-law, with one grand baby to make his or her appearance early May 2017.
A writer’s journey frequently contains many potholes, speed bumps, hairpin turns, and dead ends. For those who have yet to be published, what it rarely contains are successes and affirmations.
Before I contact an agent I research him or her like a detective looking for a stray hair of evidence. I read interviews they have given, I follow them on Twitter to see how they conduct themselves on social media, I check databases for the titles they do represent, I do Google searches to learn of any hidden matters I should know that may make this agent someone I could work with, or someone I wouldn’t even want to stand in line behind at the happiest place on earth, Disneyland.
You know what today is: the day before we all praise the heavens the election is over, and curse the results if they don’t go our way. Hope these humorous quips help you through the process.
Then on the island of Maui – where temps near Haleakala crater were guaranteed to be in the 50s – we gathered our gear, climbed into our rental car, drove up eight miles of a single lane, severe hairpin-turn paved road, only to arrive at the dirt road that would lead us to the trailhead and find it was only traversable by 4-wheel drive vehicle. We’re veteran hikers so as I always do before a hike, I checked the trip reports and the State of Hawaii hike descriptions for any pertinent info we might need for that day’s adventure. There was no mention of the hazards requiring a 4-wheel drive vehicle and we sure as hell didn’t want to place our rental vehicle in jeopardy so we turned around.
Yep, I miss and crave the hiking high I’ve grown to love this past year, but there’s no need to feel sorry for me. My current situation has forced me to finalize the preparations leading up to writing my third novel in the 2016 NaNoWriMo month-long competition that begins November 1st.
Said splitting includes laundry matters. I ventured out today for the first time in several days, driving and getting rid of to-dos on Irene’s to do list. Upon my return home, my most fabulous husband had cleared out all the baskets of soiled laundry needing attention and it wasn’t until I pulled items out of the dryer that I discovered he had washed and dried a pair of my jeans.
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.
Living: the ultimate team sport 