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Saying no and yes.

03/16/2015 / Laura

How do we guard our time?

When it seems we have so little of it to ourselves, how do we smartly and politely stand our ground when asked to take on extra tasks or chores that eat into our private moments?

As people over 50, we most likely have served on countless committees and cleanup crews, manned registration tables and put up signs, taken down displays and more…many times on a Saturday, or an evening, holiday, or other time period when we’d rather be elsewhere.

I don’t consider this the same as true volunteering or philanthropic efforts that truly benefit those in need. If I have a warm place to sleep and food in my refrigerator, you bet I can get up early or stay late and help someone less fortunate. Volunteering is not only the right thing to do, it’s energizing and uplifting.

I’m talking more about those requests that are far less dire…events or things that have nothing to do with survival or quality of life. Times when it feels that the person asking has not prepared adequately and now needs you to fill in. Or when someone won’t call upon those who said they were on board, but aren’t showing up, and didn’t inform anyone.

That bothers me. Maybe it’s a major character flaw, but so be it. It just feels like the same people get asked time after time to save a situation, while the masses happily skip off to whatever it is they suddenly need to do.

Do you ever feel like you’re the dependable one, so you’re always at the top of the list? And if so, why is it you feel guilty when you actually occasionally (but I’m guessing rarely) say no to one of these requests?

Helping out and pitching in is great.

Being taken advantage of is not.

Asking someone to help you out of a jam is fine.

Asking the same person constantly because you either think he or she has nothing better to do, or because you’re not willing to ask someone who threatens you, is unfair.

In fact, I think it’s terrible.

Maybe we all need life-sized cardboard cutouts we can carry around with us, and when we spot a “user” approaching us, we can hold up our cutout and block their path.

There’s nothing wrong with saying no. Giving yourself a pass on something that doesn’t feel right. Choosing to spend your free time as you choose, even if that means you’re not “doing” a lot. You don’t have to be married or a parent or grandparent to have a busy life. If there’s anything getting older teaches us, it’s how precious our time is.

We’re supposed to help each other. But we’re also supposed to take care of ourselves. It’s a fine line.

Here’s some words to consider by poet Naomi Shihab Nye:

The Art of Disappearing

When they say Don’t I know you?

say no.

When they invite you to the party

remember what parties are like

before answering:

Someone telling you in a loud voice

they once wrote a poem.

Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.

Then reply.

If they say We should get together

say Why?

It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.

You’re trying to remember something

too important to forget.

Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.

Tell them you have a new project.

It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store

nod briefly and become a cabbage.

When someone you haven’t seen in ten years

appears at the door,

don’t start singing him all your new songs.

You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.

Know you could tumble any second.

Then decide what to do with your time.

“Do not follow where the path may lead. Go, instead, where there is no path and leave a trail.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Is fear stopping you?

03/12/2015 / Laura

In the movie “Defending Your Life,” Albert Brooks has to face the facts: during his life, he has let fears of rejection and failure get in his way of realizing some very precious dreams. Who couldn’t relate to moments like that…in the cafeteria in junior high, at the front door saying goodnight to a date, waiting for a job interview, etc., etc.

Fear’s a weird thing. In some ways, it’s good because it keeps us alive. It can be a great alarm when we are considering doing something stupid or reckless. It can let us know when things don’t quite feel right. It can warn us that a stranger is best kept at a distance.

But it also can ruin everything.

You want to try the zip line, but you’re scared.

He wants to call her, but he fears she’ll laugh and hang up.

She wants to ask her for a raise, but she’s scared her boss will find a reason to let her go instead.

And maybe the biggest one of all: we fear we will die before we realize our dreams.

It’s amazing how competent we can feel in several areas, yet occasionally, our fears reduce us to quaking masses of jelly. Scientists say it’s when our brain detects the potential for pain. Or when we confront something we never expected. Our bodies get ready to flee. Our heart can race, we feel nauseous, we can’t breathe. In extreme cases, fear can invoke a panic attack or even worse.

Everyone has his or her own way of dealing with fear. Controlling your breathing. Being self-aware and talking yourself down. Getting control of your mind.

Easier said than done sometimes. But what about the nagging, slow simmering kind of fear? The one that sets up camp in your brain and whispers how you are too old to change careers. Too gray-haired to learn kayaking. Too mature to get out on the dance floor.

I think those fears are more insidious, and ultimately, more damaging than anything. They nibble away at our spirit like starving field mice. They’re the “what if” fears….what if I look stupid? What if they all laugh? What if I write a novel and nobody reads it? What if I fail?

What if I really can’t do it after all?

Fair enough…but what if you can?

I’ve had occasions in my life where I’ve feared that I would never achieve something that mattered to me…and then suddenly been overcome with fear that I actually would reach my goal. Talk about feeling nuts.

I think as I get older, I’m fairly well acquainted with what I fear…and what will trigger it. That gives me a slight edge as I can try and prepare my mind before I tackle the challenge. But even better, I think aging itself takes away some of our fears…because we simply don’t care that much about things that truly can’t hurt us.

So what if one person laughs when you get out there and boogie…they don’t know how much fun you’re having.

So what if you write your life story and it doesn’t sell…you wrote it for yourself anyway.

So what if none of the young executives think you really understand the latest technology….you have the edge in experience, wisdom, and tried-and-true business strategy.

I confess to having some irrational fears (heights and spiders). I confess that I’m not crazy about speaking in public. And I do listen to my inner protector if I’m somewhere unfamiliar and a warning bell goes off.

But I’m trying my best to take the air out of the fears that I think have no business stopping me from enjoying life. I’m not afraid of the white hairs that are showing up. Or the fact that I can’t stay up as late as I used to.

And I’m definitely not afraid of my wrinkles!

Go see “The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel”…lots of nice wisdom about overcoming fears and embracing who we boomers and beyond really are:

Fearless!

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”

Joseph Campbell

Anniversary of a Lifetime.

03/09/2015 / Laura

73 years ago today, Beatrice and Lloyd got married.

In the courthouse in San Antonio, Texas, a little before noon, with a few witnesses. They went to lunch afterwards. He returned to Duncan Field at Kelly Air Force Base that afternoon for his orders. It was 1942.

The next day, the Army Air Corp sent him and hundreds of other GIs on a true adventure: by train to South Carolina, then on a boat for 62 days bound for South Africa, and eventually, on to India.

He would be there, ultimately in Agra, India, serving with the 3^rd Air Depot Group, for the next 3 years. Bee, as she was called, had not talked to him since the afternoon of their wedding day. Did not know where he was. Or how long he would be gone.

Then after a few months, she got a telegram from him marked “Karachi, India”. Usually the War Department removed any trace of location from messages sent back home, but someone forgot. Bee got out her atlas and looked it up.

Now she at least knew where he was.

(Western Union quickly sent a dispatcher to her house—took the telegram she had received, and gave her a new one—and this one had a hole where the word “Karachi” had been.)

In Agra, the 3^rd Air Depot’s mission was to act as a repair and supply headquarters for the Army Air Corp squadrons in that area. Lloyd became a staff sergeant. He endured the heat, malaria, and being away from home for 3 three years. Meanwhile, Bee did what so many women then, and now, do when war comes. She stayed behind, worked, and waited.

They had met in junior high when he moved across the street from her. They went to high school together, and both later worked in San Antonio as well as Austin. He sold Old Gold cigarettes, she worked in payroll at Kelly Field air base.

After Lloyd left the army, they started a life together that would include homes in North Carolina, Texas, Tennessee, Kentucky, Texas again, and Tennessee again. Three daughters, 3 grandchildren, and to date, 6 great-grandchildren. (They left this earth before all of this happened, but I have no doubt they know the count.)

He was a district sales manager for Rexall Drug Company, and later ran a successful cleaning business. She was a hard-working stay-at-home mother who could cook anything and handled any problem that came along. They were sharks at dominoes. He loved to fish on the Texas coast. She loved to read, sew, and tackle any crossword puzzle. They both loved the Lone Star State.

They raked a million leaves. Barbecued a thousand steaks (many in the rain). Wrote a zillion checks for braces, tuition, car insurance, weddings, and surgeries for unfortunate pet cats. They weren’t Ozzie and Harriet, and we weren’t the Waltons. But we were a family.

On earth, their marriage lasted 59 years, due to her passing. He joined her almost 5 years later.

But they are still together, at least in some form, I am sure. Nagging each other, helping each other, watching us—their family—live our lives.

Today is March 9, their day. They are why I am here. They were children of the Great Depression. They are great examples of a generation that had to put their dreams and plans aside to fight a war and start over. They made it through upheaval, rationing, fear, reunions, loss, transfers, and more. Their lives were not easy, but they endured. They had no choice.

I tell you this story because I think it’s good to remember how lucky so many of us are these days. How many opportunities we have and how we sometimes lose sight of what is most important in our lives. How fast life goes by. I know I need to remember that.

Happy Anniversary, you 2.

“The stars at night, are big and bright…deep in the heart of Texas.”

Don Swander and June Hershey

Still listening to my LPs.

02/26/2015 / Laura

That sound….a phonograph needle set lightly down on vinyl….the crackle as the grooves give up their treasure….ahhhhhh.

I don’t know about you, but this is one boomer who still loves her LPs and record player. Because sometimes, nothing else will do.

Sure, I have other ways to hear music. A few years ago I gave up my floor size JBL speakers and consolidated down to a small Bose wave system that packs a mighty punch sound-wise. I listen to CDS and an IPod on it, as well as the radio.

But for the old tunes that evoke strong memories, nothing beats a turntable and good pair of speakers.

Luckily, I’ve kept my record collection. So I can hear Phil and Don Everly like they’re supposed to be heard: fresh and real with an occasional pop or skip. As well countless other artists from the 50s, 60s, 70s…and even a few older upstarts like Mozart and Beethoven.

For sure blues artists sound better.

Even just holding the album jacket feels good. I love reading the liner notes. Love thinking about how they selected the photograph or artwork that ended up being chosen. I remember being so excited to see the latest Beatles album. (My father never could understand why we needed more than one.) It’s still a ton of fun to spend an afternoon in a vintage vinyl shop and find some classic LPs for a few bucks.

CDs are great, they sound good, you get a lot more tunes on them, but holding that piece of plastic in my hands doesn’t give me the same thrill.

And it is a thrill. Music can lower our blood pressure. It releases endorphins to lessen physical pain. It’s been found to speed up post-stroke recovery. Help with migraines. Research has suggested listening to Mozart helps improve memory and enhance learning ability.

Music can make you happy, and it isn’t addictive. Doesn’t have cholesterol. And it won’t make you fat. And it’s the best way I know to get yourself out of the dumps…I confess to loving how it feels to immerse myself in music—even if that means getting my brain right next to the speakers.

Of course, listening to music that’s way too loud can be bad for you. I’m sure my hearing is not quite what it should be after too many years as an adolescent with earphones. And I know I came out of more than one rock concert wondering why people around me were moving their mouths and I couldn’t hear them.

Maybe that’s one reason I enjoy hearing albums so much…the feeling you are in the studio with them. If there’s a pop or a hiss or a bump, it just sounds like part of the recording process.

I’m sure new technology will soon emerge and we’ll all be expected to scramble to convert.

But I’m not giving up my turntable.

And while I confess I don’t get to a lot of rock concerts anymore, I won’t give up my memories of those I’ve been to…Creedence Clearwater Revival, Doobie Brothers, James Taylor, Three Dog Night, Little Feat, Steve Winwood, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Bruce Springsteen, The Police, Huey Lewis & The News, Tom Petty, The Moody Blues, The Rolling Stones, Steely Dan, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Lyle Lovett, Boz Scaggs, Chicago, Genesis, Men at Work, Billy Joel, Santana, Al Jarreau, Eric Clapton, Delbert McClinton, Ray Charles, Asleep at The Wheel, U2, Bonnie Raitt, Booker T. & The MGs, Pat Metheny, B.B. King, and a host of fantastic artists in small venues and dives around the music-lovin’ town of Memphis, Tennessee. I’m sure I’m leaving some out.

People I wish I could have heard live? Dean Martin. Elvis Presley. Patsy Cline. Nat King Cole. George Harrison. I’m determined to hear Placido Domingo sing live one of these days. I’d love to see Brian Seltzer strut his stray cat boogie on a stage. And so many of the all-time great blues artists are leaving us…truly a great loss.

What was your favorite concert? Your favorite album? Share your memories…it might get you to humming your favorite songs…and that might make you very happy.

“The only truth is music.”

Jack Kerouac

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