Category: Uncategorized (Page 34 of 39)

Feeling left behind?

02/22/2016 /

20150125There’s a lot of great things about growing older.

But there’s some tough stuff as well, like losing more people every year. People in your family. A spouse. Friends. Co-workers and past acquaintances.

Whether it’s the finality of death or a phone call that tells you someone has a terminal disease.

That just can’t be.

 She’s not old enough.

 He was just about to retire.

 We went to school together.

 She’s younger than I am.

How old does that make me??

It’s natural to feel some fear when you get news like this. It’s also natural to take a hard look at yourself, and then feel guilty because it’s supposed to be about them, not you.

Yet it is about you…and me…and how strange it is to age on the outside and yet still feel 25, 35, 45 on the inside.

I had a 93-year old neighbor once who was legally blind but every bit as alive and involved as she had always been. Her smile was a welcome sight every day. Yet she confessed to me that it was getting harder and harder because she had outlived everyone…her friends, her post loves, her anchors. I didn’t get it totally then, but I’m starting to now.

It feels like we’re all in lifeboats bobbing up and down at sea, holding hands, getting through all the storms and high waves together. Then more and more of our fellow life travelers fall in the water, disappearing, and the chain is not as strong as it used to be. Hey now, hang on a minute.

We’re all supposed to get through this together. We’re supposed to make it to the other side together. Don’t leave me!

photo-1428263197823-ce6a8620d1e1It’s even hard when famous people die, if we’ve identified with them our whole lives and they’ve become a part of how we experience each day. A singer who helped us escape the rigors of teenage angst. A sports figure that inspired us to work out harder because he or she never gave up. An author whose words pulled us through a life crisis.

Now they are gone, and we are left to fend as best we can. It can make me feel more exposed and vulnerable at times. And yet, I’m guessing what’s really happening is we are left with the essence of who we are…and sometime’s that a good thing. To “meet” ourselves without any filters or escape hatches.

All the people we have known, loved, liked, respected, or even disliked help shape who we are…and now as boomers and beyond, who we have become. But they are just part of the picture.

Depending upon your belief, you may take solace in that you will remain connected with them for eternity, that this is not a final goodbye. (That’s my belief, and in a few cases, I’m ready to really make sure they understand what they meant to me!) Knowing that can help ease the pain, and underscore how tight some bonds can be.

Here’s some nice words from the late poet A.R. Ammons:

 

In View of the Fact

 The people of my time are passing away: my wife is baking for a funeral, a 60-year-old who

 died suddenly, when the phone rings, and it’s Ruth we care so much about in intensive care:

 

it was once weddings that came so thick and fast, and then, first babies, such a hullabaloo:

 now, it’s this that and the other and somebody else gone or on the brink: well, we never

 

thought we would live forever (although we did) and now it looks like we won’t: some of us

 are losing a leg to diabetes, some don’t know what they went downstairs for, some know that

 

a hired watchful person is around, some like to touch the cane tip into something steady,

 so nice: we have already lost so many, brushed the loss of ourselves ourselves: our

 

address books for so long a slow scramble now are palimpsests, scribbles and scratches: our

 index cards for Christmases, birthdays, Halloweens drop clean away into sympathies:

 

at the same time we are getting used to so many leaving, we are hanging on with a grip

 to the ones left: we are not giving up on the congestive heart failure or brain tumors, on

 

the nice old men left in empty houses or on the widows who decide to travel a lot: we

 think the sun may shine someday when we’ll drink wine together and think of what used to

 

be: until we die we will remember every single thing, recall every word, love every

 loss: then we will, as we must, leave it to others to love, love that can grow brighter

 

and deeper till the very end, gaining strength and getting more precious all the way. . . .

 

heart-shaped-fluffy-cloud Life is precious. Grab it with all the might you have and celebrate your spirit, your soul, and your passion for living. Do it for yourself, and those who have moved on to a higher being. Rock that wrinkle!!!

 

“Being happy never goes out of style.”

     Lilly Pulitzer

Anticipating Spring

02/15/2016 /

DSC_0326

 

Okay, so it’s not Spring.

But it’s not that far off.

We’re still in the midst of cold air, icy sidewalks, and shorter days.  But have you noticed?  The air smells a bit fresher.  The light is lingering longer.  And every once in a while, we are blessed with wonderfully warm days and bright sunshine that make us giddy with anticipation.

Spring is coming.

When these golden mid-winter days come, I love to fully take advantage of them.  Open the windows.  Clean out the car.  Dry rugs outside in the sunshine.  Take a big giant breath and let it out slowly, relaxing in the promise of longer days ahead.  It’s good for the soul.

In the spirit of what lies ahead (and to give those of us boomers and beyond who still face several winter and spring snowstorms), here’s some thoughts from Alfred Lord Tennyson that might give you cheer:

 

Early Spring

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Once more the Heavenly Power
Makes all things new,
And domes the red-plowed hills
With loving blue; 
The blackbirds have their wills,
The throstles too.

Opens a door in Heaven; 
From skies of glass
A Jacob’s ladder falls
On greening grass, 
And o’er the mountain-walls
Young angels pass.

Before them fleets the shower,

And burst the buds, 
And shine the level lands,
And flash the floods;
The stars are from their hands
Flung through the woods,

The woods with living airs
How softly fanned,
Light airs from where the deep,
All down the sand,
Is breathing in his sleep,
Heard by the land.

O, follow, leaping blood,
The season’s lure!
O heart, look down and up,
Serene, secure, 
Warm as the crocus cup,
Like snow-drops, pure!

Past, Future glimpse and fade
Through some slight spell,
A gleam from yonder vale, 
Some far blue fell; 
And sympathies, how frail,
In sound and smell!

Till at thy chuckled note,
Thou twinkling bird,
The fairy fancies range,
And, lightly stirred,
Ring little bells of change
From word to word.

For now the Heavenly Power
Makes all things new,
And thaws the cold, and fills
The flower with dew;
The blackbirds have their wills,
The poets too. 

“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.”

Aristotle

Thank You Cory Wells.

11/16/2015 /

I lost someone recently; someone who meant a great deal to me when I was growing up. This person, a fellow boomer,  was a source of joy for me…an escape from some unhappy times that left me feeling unwanted and lost.

Because I felt I could turn to this person, it gave me a sense of hope and acceptance.

And yet, I never met this man.

Growing up is hard. Feeling accepted is not easy. And when you truly are not accepted at school, not part of the in crowd, not one of the attractive inner circle, it can be miserable.

I know.

I walked that path. I didn’t have much hope at the time.

But what I did have was a record player. And my beloved albums and favorite bands…because for me, music was a transport to all that was possible. One band in particular resonated with me.

Three Dog Night. More specifically, Cory Wells. One of the lead singers and the force behind forming the band. The bluesy, deep-voiced talent whose love for the blues and black music permeated his soulful renditions.

He sang from his bones. He was handsome, quick-witted, and an easy smiler. He was married and faithful to his wife and loved his children.

He was, for me, an outlet of my feelings. He was of course a stranger and  way out of my league. I knew that. But it was fun to imagine. And it was wonderful to listen to him sing.

IMG_0826 - Version 2Over the years, as I’ve grown older of course so did he and the band. But instead of fading into obscurity they kept touring, kept entertaining audiences. They didn’t let gray hair and extra pounds keep them from center stage. They didn’t dye their hair and try to dress like a 25-year-old. They just remained who they were.

Did they rock the wrinkle? Oh yes. To put it mildly.

I loved how I could finally see them in smaller venues, be closer to the stage, and in many ways, get to know who they were as people. They joked about moving more slowly. Recalled their memories from so many years ago. Praised new artists.

And Cory stayed (in my opinion) humble and generous. He supported many charities. He was an outdoorsman who loved to fish in his beloved retreat near Lake Erie. He was still happily married after 50 years with children and grandchildren.

I passed on an opportunity to see him and the band a few years ago, at a neighborhood-type festival not far from where I live. I don’t know what kept me away, but I thought I’d have another chance to see them anyway…I knew I wanted to walk up to him sometime, and tell him he made a difference in my life. He got me through some tough times.

You know, just be a human letting another human know he helped someone that he didn’t even know.

But I did not go. And about a month ago, Cory died. It was quick and unexpected. I’m sure his friends and family are in shock. I know I was, and still am.

It’s like a part of me has died as well. A part that takes me back to a painful and also pivotal time; those years when you’re just trying to figure out who you are, and hang on to any thread of hope.

I admit it also angers me how little recognition he got during his lifetime. Critics always wanted to take away from the band’s success because they rarely wrote any of their songs. Instead, they found (then) obscure writers like Elton John, Laura Nyro, Randy Newman and Hoyt Axton and showcased their songs. This led to 12 gold albums and 21 consecutive Billboard Top 40 hits.

No one else has achieved that.

Yet they’re not in the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame. And now, too late, so many are coming forward to praise Cory’s talent. I only hope he can hear it, wherever he is.

He’s still teaching me. To not wait to say the things that matter. To not assume I’ll have another opportunity to do something that could touch another person’s heart. To grab each precious moment and find the harmony.

I picture him on the most beautiful stream imaginable, with a fishing pole in his hand, humming a tune. Cory Wells (Wellsley). Rest in peace.  And thank you.

 

“Music is the medicine of the breaking heart.”

        Leigh Hunt

 

Celebrating (?) self-improvement month.

08/31/2015 /

September is self-improvement month.

Uh oh. That could be trouble. Or it could be lots of fun.

I’d really like to hear from some of you what you might choose as a goal. Or are you thrilled with the way you are? Let us all know.

For me, it’s already started. I recently completely emptied my closet out and started over. Donated, re-organized, cleaned, re-thought. Wow, did that feel good.

But then, that’s my closet. It’s not me.

file641274354480So then, I cleaned out three kitchen drawers. Threw away bizarre gadgets that some alien from outer space must have put there (because I have no memory of them). Emptied, cleaned, re-organized.

So that’s an improvement, right? Oh yeah…. those are drawers. Not me.

Guess I have to really look at myself. Am I too set in my ways? Too easily talked into over-indulging in bad food and good wine? Too ready to curse at a clueless driver?

Check, check, and check. Guess I need to work on that.

And how many times a day do I go out of my way to help another person? To smile at a stranger? To cheerfully assist a client who is giving me a migraine? To not sigh in disgust when I watch a political commercial?

Geesh. Will a month be long enough to tackle these character defects?

What about the good things…maybe this is a great time to learn a new hobby. Make a new friend. Volunteer in a new place. Start a new habit that helps the universe.

As boomers and beyond, we’ve spent a lifetime reading self-improvement books. We were around when Evelyn Wood wanted us to read Shakespeare at 500 mph. And Norman Vincent Peale told us to think positively. We learned how to be our best friend.

We worked out. Tuned in. Dropped out. Came back, with a slight limp.

pad-black-and-whiteEvery night there’s a program on television telling us how to become richer, thinner, and healthier. It’s great, but it can be overwhelming. After all, we’ve already worked our whole lives, raised families, cared for parents, and endured any number of health concerns, tragedies, and heartbreaks.

And now they want us to give up Cheetos and sitting on the couch. Dang.

Instead, why not think about something very small, but very important you could do that would make you feel better about who you are? After all, you deserve to be the best you can—and you deserve to enjoy your life.

You’re older. Wiser. But could you be better? Let us know.   And keep rockin’ those wrinkles!

“You are you.  Now isn’t that pleasant?”

         Dr. Seuss

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