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OLD AGE IS NOT FOR SISSIES

NOTHING IN LIFE IS TO BE FEARED

How to Sleep Without Counting Sheep

by Filed Under: Health

I have always been a champion sleeper.  Sleep came easy for me. For most of my life I fell asleep within minutes of lying down; but thanks to menopause, that changed.  At least I thought it was menopause, because now I’m not so sure.

Here’s why I thought it was menopause.  Just about the same time I began to have hot flashes, I began to lose sleep.  I tried to go to sleep at 11 p.m., my usual bedtime.  I tossed and turned until about 12:30 a.m. or later, then fell asleep and woke up around 4-5 a.m.  If I had the time, I ate breakfast and then slept until noon.  It wasn’t a good schedule, even for a teenager—let alone a woman in her 50s. I was sleepy at all hours just not at night.

I Tried Everything

I read everything I could get my hands on about sleeping.  I got really good about setting and keeping a schedule.  Eleven to seven was the norm that I aspired to keep.

Chuck is a restless sleeper, so we got twin beds.  He is a light snorer, so I got a sound machine.  We don’t allow the cat to come into the bedroom at night.  I made sure to never work on the computer after 10 p.m.

I even tried counting sheep; but after all the changes, I still couldn’t sleep.

Sheep in Colorado

So I began hormone replacement therapy.  Premarin worked like a charm, and that is why I was sure it was hormone related.  I had had a partial hysterectomy so I never had to replace the lost Progesterone.  I did, however, on my own take bio-identical Progesterone; but never did I take the synthetic version.  Thank goodness for that, because we’ve since learned it can be a real problem.

Finally, though, I wanted  off the Premarin after about six years.  I gradually weaned myself, and that was when the hot flashes and sleeplessness came roaring back and hit me like a ton of bricks.

Next, I tried bioidentical estrogen and progesterone.  The hot flashes disappeared, but not entirely the sleeplessness.  I was sleeping better, but I would still have a bad night from time to time. The next time I saw my doctor, we discussed it.

My Doctor Helped Me Find a Solution

Notice that I said “a solution”. I believe it may be different for each of us. My doctor put me through a whole bank of blood tests.  If your body makes it, I’m sure I was tested for it.  Nothing jumped out, but my doctor had been doing some reading of his own.

He suggested three supplements—250-500 mg of Magnesium Citrate, 25 mg of Zinc and 3-6 mg of Melatonin.  He said to take this each day for a month and to come back if I still had trouble sleeping.

The result?  I never had to go back.  It only took me about three weeks, and I began to sleep well. It was like old times. I am still on the bio-identicals too.

I still struggle to get eight whole hours, but I get seven easily.  Nine times out of ten it is my own fault for getting less than eight.  I stay up late working, and then I get up early the next day because of work.  I just need to cut back on work and relax more. After all, I am retired.

I once read that menopause will make you learn to be patient with your body.  This is so true, but patience does not come easily to the women in my family.  I am no exception.

Why I’m a Capitalist

by Filed Under: Family Life, Opinion

This morning I made a statement.  I said, “The whole damn country has lost its mind.”  Chuck in reply said, “No, it’s more like it has lost its soul.” Here’s what caused us to feel this way, and how I know that I’m a capitalist.

It all began when I told him about some research I was doing and about a project that was done during the Great Depression in a South Florida city.   It was a FERA project, where they hired people to interview the elderly in that community.  They were asked if they remembered anything their parents told them about their family moving to the area.  They picked their brains for any information they could glean.  What I found were extremely good stories about how people migrated to south Florida during the mid to late 1800s.

Chuck said, “What is FERA”.  I said, “You know, one of those projects where people are given jobs to put more money into the economy. Only back then they used their money to put people to work, while we just passed a stimulus bill and gave most of it away.”  Then I added, “The whole damn country…”  Well, you get the picture.

FERA was the Federal Emergency Relief Administration which President Herbert Hoover created in 1932.  They gave loans to states to operate relief programs.  Along with the Civilian Conservation Corps, it was the first relief operation under the New Deal. Florida is full of FERA projects, like the community center in Davenport, the seawall around Spring Bayou in Tarpon Springs, and one of the Education buildings still standing at Florida State University in Tallahassee.  These were considered socialist handout programs back then even though people still had to work for the money.  The people of the 1930s didn’t think these were capitalist programs.

Spring Bayou in Tarpon Springs, Florida

FERA’s main goal was to alleviate household unemployment by creating new unskilled jobs in local and state governments.  This was more expensive than direct cash payments (called “the dole”), but it was psychologically beneficial to the unemployed at that time.  The unemployed wanted and needed any sort of job for self-esteem issues.  Men especially wanted to maintain the role as their families’ breadwinners, but women took jobs too.

Through FERA women learning to basket weave, providing a product they can sell to take care of their families.

By the time FERA closed in 1935, it provided work for over 20 million people and developed facilities on public lands all across the country.  Over $3.1 B was given to states and local governments to run the program.    In 1935 it was replaced with the WPA, the Works Progress Administration.

I’ve always felt that working was a good thing.  It makes me feel good to be productive.  I get satisfaction in what I do.  I’ve been this way since my first job sweeping hair in a beauty salon at the age of 14. I made fifty cents an hour. Back then minimum wage wasn’t required for teenagers.

I wanted a beautiful red and black plaid wool skirt with matching vest made by Bobby Brooks.  The skirt was a tad short, but with the vest one could wear it on the hips and pass the dress code. It was tough being a teenager in those days.

I asked my parents, and they told me that the outfit cost too much.  I told them I wanted a job, and Mama got me one working at the place where she got her hair done. That was 1968.  I worked three afternoons a week and a half day on Saturday.

By the end of my first week, I made enough to go have the skirt placed on lay-away.  The outfit was sold in separates.  I was just hoping no one came in and bought the vest before I could get it, too.

Feeling lucky and smart, almost two months later I paid for and took home the entire outfit.  What a wonderful feeling!  I had been bitten by the capitalist bug.  Years later, while attending college, I worked in a dress shop and spent everything I made in that one store. Can you tell I love clothes?

Eventually, I learned to live within my means and spread around the good cheer.  Thankfully, I also learned how to save.

It is too bad that people who love to work and who save for the future seem to be fewer in number today.  It has been a good work life for my husband and me, and we’re retired now.

I wrote this almost five years ago, and I’m happy that our country seems to be turning this around. Under the new presidential administration, it seems that more people than ever are back at work. It seems that fewer people are waiting for a handout. This is indeed good news for America.

What was your first job and what was your first big buy? How do you feel about our current welfare system? Do you believe we are getting closer or farther away from our capitalist roots?

The Ultimate Memorial Day Movie to Watch

by Filed Under: Movies, Opinion

The Memorial Day movie “Lone Survivor” is about four American military men in Afghanistan who were given an order to capture and kill a Taliban leader. The movie is based on the book of the same name by Marcus Luttrell one of the four men. Their mission goes horribly wrong.

Chuck and I went to see the movie in 2013 when it was first in theaters. Ironically, I was the one that insisted we go.  This surprised Chuck because he knows that I don’t like extremely tense movies, and he knew that this one was exactly that.

But We Went Anyway

Of course, the movie was extremely intense.  Most of the people in the theatre were young men.  A row of them to my right were all with very short haircuts.  They all set like they were sitting at attention if that is possible.  They were stoic and very quiet.

The movie was excellent, as was the acting.

Well, why did I go?

I truly believe that freedom in America is not free.  We all owe a debt of gratitude to all the men and women who have fought or are fighting for our freedom.  These four young men did just that.

The War in Afghanistan was and still is a direct result of the attacks on the Trade Center buildings in New York, our Pentagon in DC, and the plane that went down in Pennsylvania.  This battle in Afghanistan took place within five years after those attacks.  At the time, there was no doubt in our collective minds that we needed to be over there.  To do nothing was not an option for our nation.

“Lone Survivor” is about Operation Red Wings.  The operation was one of the worst military disasters in US history.   Nineteen men lost their lives.  Four men were sent in for reconnaissance, and surveillance centered on a leader in the Taliban.

The operation failed because of several reasons, the biggest of which was their accidental discovery by some Afghan goatherders.  They captured the three goatherders but regretfully had to let them go even though they knew that there was a good chance that the Taliban army of men down in the village would be alerted.  Later, it was their virtues that led to the disaster, not their vices.  The Seal team of four followed the rules of engagement and did the honorable thing.

I heard enough of this story to feel the tug of my own calling.  If these men could put themselves into this situation for the people in this country, then the least I could do was to see their story.  I felt the ‘lone survivor’ wanted to make sure these men were not forgotten.

There is really so much more about this movie.  You’ll find yourself proud of these young men and their call to duty, and you’ll be amazed by some Afghan villagers in the story.  You’ll leave the movie as quietly as the young men I sat beside.  Much thought will crowd your mind.

Is War Senseless?

Some time ago I heard that a reporter called the deaths in this operation, senseless.  I just wonder if he felt the same in 2005 when this happened.  Time makes us forget, and it is easy to look back ten years and make generalizations.

Senseless?  I think not.  If anything, it was a very conscious decision that was valuable, smart and sensible at the time.  It was not perfect, but it had to be done.  Thank goodness, these professionals knew their purpose; and they did the best they could under the circumstances.   They understood that a dedicated life is a life worth living.  They gave with their whole heart.  Let’s not forget these young men on Memorial Day.

A Yellow Ribbon to Remember Those Still in Harm’s Way

Ever since the first men and women were sent overseas after 9-11, we tied a yellow ribbon around a tree near our street.  Several times over the past dozen or more years, we replaced it because it lost all its color and was almost unnoticeable.  This Memorial Day we will re-wrap the tree for the rest of the men and women who are still over there doing their best to keep America free.

We plan to read the book by the same title because there are still questions unanswered.  Most important of all?  Let the politicians, reporters, and pundits argue; but let us not forget our military.

And let’s not forget our children. I am not sure that our children are learning American history like we did. Our schools seem so intent on teaching them about the bad in our American history that I’m afraid they leave out the consequences and importance of what we did that was good. I believe it may be up to all of us outside of the schools to teach our children about this great nation and what it really stands for.

That is why Chuck and I have been taking the kids to battlefields, museums, and monuments. We cannot depend on our schools to teach our children and grandchildren what we feel is important. We need to pick up that job ourselves. This summer get to know your offspring better and learn about America’s history first hand.

Two of our grandsons on the Resaca Battlefield.

And don’t forget that all of us need to update our lessons. “Lone Survivor” whether you decide to see the movie or read the book is a good primer.

How to Maintain Good Health: A 40s Survival Guide

by Filed Under: Aches & Pains, Books, Health, Nutrition & Diet

Our 40s were some of our most difficult years.   My girlfriends and I, most of which are in our sixties, agreed on this one epiphany.

I had a partial hysterectomy at the age of 43, and within a few years, I went through some major problems.  I thought it was the surgery, but I found out it was much more.  There were night sweats, hot flashes, loss of hair, loss of sleep, fatigue, aching joints, constipation, and weight gain.

Some of my friends who hadn’t had a hysterectomy were going through the same thing.

Me at my top weight.

I knew I was getting older, but I just wasn’t ready for this.  My body changed in my 40s, and I didn’t realize that I had to make some big changes in my life to feel good again.

Trying to hide it under a suit.

Good News & Bad News

I visited my general practitioner, who checked my hormones.  He said he had good news and bad news.  I said, “Let’s do the bad news first”.  He said, “You are in menopause”.  I asked if 46 was a little early, and he said yes but sometimes after a hysterectomy things just give up.

“So what is the good news,” I said.  He said, “You are finished.  Menopause is over.”  I remember going home and telling my family.  They all said that they already knew this.  I hadn’t been very easy to live with.

Time to go on a Diet

I weighed almost 150 pounds in my 40s.  I began to get really serious about my diet, and so I tried anything I could find.  I tried the South Beach Diet, the Atkins Diet, the Mediterranean Diet, some sort of a carb diet, and even a diet where you could eat anything you wanted as long as you ate it in an hour.  The last one was Chuck’s favorite–not.  I just about ripped the face off a waitress one night, when she didn’t bring our dessert within the one-hour time limit.

You name it, and I’m pretty sure I tried it.  I even tried the pills, but not more than a couple of weeks.  They made me jittery as heck.  I think I can safely say that my 40s will be remembered as the decade when I was always hungry.

In the meantime, my health in my 40s was going downhill fast.  My cholesterol kept inching up, along with my weight.  I was in an extremely stressful job, and my waist line was quickly catching up with my hips.  I learned about cortisol.  I read everything I could get my hands on.  “Prevention” magazine replaced “Self”.

Then that Pain in my Back

Finally, I really messed up when I threw out my back.  I found myself incapacitated in a world that stops for nothing.   With my kids gone, my work had become my life; and now it was costing me my life.  I loved what I did, but it was getting harder to do it.

So what did I finally do?  I decided that I didn’t want to have back surgery,  and I got really lucky because I found a doctor that didn’t believe in back surgery, unless absolutely necessary.  He was a surgeon himself, but he also ran a rehab unit.

He ordered an MRI.  We could see exactly where the problem was, and then he ordered physical therapy, work with a chiropractor, and a message therapist.  The physical therapy was designed to rebuild the muscles I needed in my frame, and he had me work with weights.

I truly had trouble. It was very painful at first, but I got through it.  It took me an entire year.  In the meantime, my doctor moved away to another city, but he had given me a good head start– information and techniques that I continued to use.

Quite by accident, I found a great little book, “Treat Your Own Back” by Robin McKenzie.  It is my little “back bible”.  I have thrown my back out several times in the past fifteen years, but I always go back to the guidance in this book to pull me through.  And each time my recovery was shorter.  (By the way, it has been many years since I last threw my back out.  Yoga keeps me in shape, now.)

 

Speaking of relapses, if I knew then in my 40s what I know now, I would have never injured my back as badly as that first time.  I know exactly what to do at the first twinge of back pain.  I know what that little sensation means, and I quickly moderate my movements and lifestyle.  I’ve learned how to better take care of myself.

Usually, they occur because I didn’t move enough during a long trip or I had been sitting at my computer too much.  I get lazy, and I forget about my problem until it bites me again.

 

Major Changes were Needed

Speaking of changes in lifestyle, I resigned from my job and began working in one that required less travel and offered a less stressful atmosphere.  I guess I’m blessed, because the new job paid better, too.  It took me over a year to make the change, but it was worth it.

In my 40s I learned to sit better, have better posture, to not lean on the arm rests, and to maintain good alignment at all times.  I try not to cross my legs now.  In other words, I can no longer slouch like a young person.  My body doesn’t heal itself as fast, so I have to be more careful.

I hardly ever sit through a full television program. I use the commercials to get up and do something, even if it is only to wash five dishes.  The point is not to get something done, but to get up and move. I try not to sit in the same chair all the time.

My chiropractor helped in the beginning, but I’ve learned what not to do to help me stay in alignment.  I bet I haven’t seen my chiropractor five times in the past ten years.

I rely on yoga for my exercise and weight work.  I go for a one-hour session twice a week.  Core work is vital to my overall health now.

I learned that if I pull something or if something is aching, I ice it down.  Most likely, it is inflammation; and ice works best.  I do like warm to hot baths, though; but I  now only use them to relieve stress or when I ache.

By my 50s I was Back to Normal

I got my weight back to a good 135 lbs using Jenny Craig.  They taught me portion control mostly.  I have some dishes from my mother’s everyday set of dishes, and her dinner dish is the size of today’s salad plate. So I eat on a salad plate, the size of a plate that my Dad used for most of his adult life.

Plus, it is amazing how much food is pushed at us every day. I can make three meals out of the portions many restaurants currently serve.

I can eat almost anything as long as I always watch my portions, but I don’t eat anything I want.  Again, I had to realize that my body changed. I learned about fiber, and I started eating a lot of vegetables and fruit (at least five a day).  I really developed a taste for vegetables.  I love them! And a piece of fruit is like eating candy. Everything is sweeter since I learned to limit my sugar intake.

Speaking of sugar I gave up two loves of my life: Coca-Cola and Sweet Iced Tea. I transitioned to Diet Coke and unsweetened tea with lemon and Splenda. Honestly, that was the first change I made, and I lost 8 pounds.

I try to eat protein at every meal.  I eat mostly chicken, fish, and seafood, but every once in a while I love a good steak (about the size of a deck of cards).  I try to keep it under 6 oz.

I love bread, but I save my bread calories for whole grain bread.  If it isn’t whole grain, I don’t eat it (this one is still really hard for me.)  I also try to eat one carb at every meal.  It always keeps me from getting hungry.  My carb portion is always meager and is a whole food (a small potato, brown rice, etc.)  I try to stay away from creamy sauces.

I transitioned to whole foods. I went back to whole milk and full fat cheeses. My doctor explained that our bodies need fat and to steer away from no fat or very low fat. I do not have heart disease.  I sincerely believe that if I cannot eat breakfast, I can at least drink a glass of whole milk.  Milk is full of nutrients and has enough fat content to give me the protein and fat I need to keep me from getting hungry.  Skim or even 1% doesn’t give me that.

I try to eat an egg every morning with a piece of whole grain toast, a small glass of whole milk and some fruit.  I never skip a meal, but if I did it certainly wouldn’t be breakfast. It gets my metabolism going for a good calorie burn all day long.  I believe it is vital to maintaining a good weight.

I take some supplements for what I lack.  I worry about Vitamin D and calcium, though I get most of my calcium from my foods now.  (I later learned that I was Vitamin D deficient, and my doctor prescribed 10,000 iu a day). You can read about what my doctor prescribes here.

What If I Fail

Do I fall off the wagon?  Oh dear, yes; but I always try to climb right back up on it, if not the next meal, the beginning of the next day. I went on a cruise last fall and it took me until spring to get back to normal. It was hard to do during the holidays.

I almost never step on the scales, but I let my clothes give me guidance.  I never buy a larger size; and when my slacks are too tight or my bra cuts into me, I get real serious.

Usually, that means, no bread, no alcohol, and no dessert.  Otherwise, I stay to one alcholic drink a day in keeping with current instructions from the medical establishment.

By the way, dessert is a thin slice or about a half cup portion.  It is really just a taste; but once you get used to it, it works. Another way is to allow yourself just one good dessert a week. I save mine for a really yummy one, made from scratch.  And no cheating with a frappecino from Starbucks.

Simply Sixty

At 60 I was 5’4″ and weighed 135 pds.  I wore a size 8, and I have for about fifteen years now.  My measurements are 38, 30, 39.  Not exactly 36, 26, 36; but hey, I’m 60.  If I go below 133, I don’t look good.  My face is gaunt, and I don’t exactly feel good either.  I got down to 128 with Jenny Craig, but that was way too low.

I seldom ache now.  I have no trouble with constipation.  I feel good, and that is the best barometer of all.

My 40s were full of bad moments, but the good news is that you finally figure it out and your 50s get much, much better.

In my 50s

Even better?  Several of my friends in their late 60s tell me that their 60s are the best of all.  I’m just now 60, so another chapter begins!  Wish me luck!

Crocheted Blouse

Me at 60

How were your 40s compared to your earlier or later decades?  What changes did you have to make?  What did you find that worked for you?

An iPhone Shouldn’t be this Complicated

by Filed Under: Electronics & Technology, It's Not For Sissies

I wrote this when we talked Chuck into switching to an iPhone about five years ago. Here’s what happened.

For the longest time I was after my husband to switch from a Blackberry to an iPhone. The Result? Well?  Oh dear!  What was I thinking?

We told Chuck that his cell phone was a dinosaur.  I tired of him handing me his Blackberry every time he ran into a jam.  Such a long since I owned one, I couldn’t remember the procedures anymore.  I got frustrated.

Also, Chuck loved all my apps.  He hogged my cell, especially when we were traveling.  He loved that he could get his college football team’s games no matter where we were.  And he lusted after my cell, but not enough to make the change to the iPhone.

Well, all that changed just before the Christmas holidays.  After a year of nagging, he got his new iPhone 5s, and the real trouble began.

He didn’t like the keyboard.  He had trouble answering the phone.  Half the time he handed it to me to answer, even when I was driving.  He couldn’t tell if it was charging.  He couldn’t close his apps.   At one point he even complained about an app and finally said that his Blackberry could do a better job.  I reminded him that his Blackberry didn’t have apps or the ability to do it at all.

And don’t get me started about misbehaving apps, of which there seems to be a few since all the app providers hadn’t upgraded their apps to operate with the iOS 7.  Thank goodness for young people.  One of them finally showed me how to do something as simple as killing an app using the iOS 7.  Can you tell that I never upgraded my 4s to the iOS 7? I’m no Spring chicken, and as you can tell I had problems of my own.  I’m a bit of a dinosaur myself.

Chuck kept forgetting to turn his cell off, and many times he forgot to hang up the call.  Several colleagues told me that they could still hear him talking over the sounds in the background. I hope he didn’t give away any trade secrets!

He pocket dialed more than half the people in his office, numerous times; and our kids got so many pocket calls that it was a running family joke.   My daughter Jamie said that one day while she was in a meeting she had to turn her iPhone off, because he kept pocket dialing her.  The vibrate was running down her phone battery.

And Siri?

I asked, “Have you used Siri yet?”  Chuck said, “No” looking confused. I said, “Do you know what it is?”  He said, “No.”  I said, “Ok, that’s good.”

Why bother?

After getting his new iPhone, it was literally weeks of whining and fussing. Chuck was driving me crazy!

At one point he asked me if I thought it was waterproof.  Waterproof?  He told me that he wanted to drop it in the toilet to find out.  I kept my mouth shut, and silently hoped he would.

Plus, Chuck loses everything and drops things.  This is the same man who dropped his IPad three floors down on to an atrium with marble floors.  They’re probably still talking about that in the Capitol. It is a wonder his new iPhone still had its screen intact.

And then, the ultimate.  One of his elderly friends said to Chuck, “Whatever you do, don’t upgrade it to an iOS 7.”  Oh boy!  We had already done that, and his sweet blond secretary told him so.

The complaining had just about stopped, when this set him off again.  We listened to several more weeks of complaining about how the upgrade was why his iPhone was so difficult to use.

Maybe for me, but certainly not for him.  When in doubt, he just hands it to me!

We tried to explain that he never had the earlier operating system, and that his friend probably upgraded a 4 or 4s to the iOS 7.  And that he really doesn’t have anything in which to compare.  We may as well have been speaking Greek!  He said, “What?”

(Big eye roll here.)

Remember how I told him that his Blackberry was a dinosaur?  Well, I kind of forgot that Chuck is, too.  We just gave a new kitten to a dinosaur.  What was I thinking?  All he really wanted was something in which to answer the phone and occasionally send a very short email.

Several times during those days, I thought to myself, “Dear Lord, just kill me now!” But of course, this too passed.

A New Year’s Eve Memory

by Filed Under: Family Life

I remember a New Year’s Eve almost fifty years ago.  My girlfriend Brenda and I were spending the night at my grandparent’s home across town.    My Grandma and Granddaddy let us stay up and watch the ball drop on TV.  They had long gone to bed.

Of course, midnight took its time coming; and we started playing with the phone calling other girls.  All of us were in the same situation.  Stuck at home with parents who would let us stay up because it was a special night.  Finally, we ran out of people to call; but Brenda and I got to talking about Becky’s cousin Dina who lived in Madison, just 30 miles down the road.  We wondered if that was a long-distance call from my grandmother’s house.

Remember when long-distance was a big, big deal.  No one I knew called long-distance unless it was a serious emergency.  Long-distance calls were expensive.   Most people were lucky if their salary was over $10,000 a year, so a few dollars for a long-distance call was serious money.

Everyone’s mothers didn’t work, so families had to make do on $10,000 or less a year.  There were no second homes (unless a whole extended family owned it, like a beach house). There were no cell phones or cable tv.  We got one channel, a CBS Station. Hardly anyone ate out, except for a very, very special occasion.  Those were tight times.

This was also during a time when we only had to dial the last four digits of the telephone number.  We decided to dial just those digits of Dina’s number.  We got someone else–a wrong number.

So Brenda and I decided that if we could dial the seven-digit number without a “1” or “0” in front, then surely it wasn’t a long-distance call.  We picked up the phone and using the rotary dial, we dialed all seven digits. We didn’t even think about the area code, because it was the same all over this part of the state, and to call someone within the area code all you dialed was the seven digits with a “1” or “0” in front.

The phone rang on the other end, and then someone picked up the phone.  It was Brenda’s aunt.  I got scared and whispered “hang up the phone, hang up the phone”.  Brenda hadn’t said anything yet, so she quickly hung.  I said, “what if it is still a long-distance call?”  “What if my grandparents see it on their next bill?”

And then we both sort of freaked out. “What if there was a dollar amount, just for any call that covered so many minutes, whether you use them or not, like what we would see in the movies when someone was trying to use a pay phone.”  We panicked. We were seriously worried, and the New Year’s ball drop later was a little anti-climatic.

Brenda and I worried for over a month, waiting for my parents to begin the inquisition about the long-distance phone call that mysteriously showed up on my grandparent’s telephone bill.

But nothing was ever said, and we worried for nothing.

So here I am almost fifty years later.  My friend Brenda runs a day care in a city about a hundred miles away.  She married and had three kids. I married and had two.  And so she and I talk occasionally about grandchildren, facial creams and procedures, parents long passed and pending retirements.  Of course, Grandma and Granddaddy have long since passed.

We talk on cell phones and pay monthly cell phone bills that equal what it used to cost for a mortgage; but there is no worry about how long we talk long-distance because we both have the unlimited calling plans.

And here I sit tonight on New Year’s Eve watching the ball drop on TV.  Chuck and I went to dinner, then a movie so we wouldn’t fall asleep too soon.  It gets harder and harder to stay awake, especially for Chuck; but it is a tradition that neither of us want to break.

We sit watching New Year’s Eve entertainers who we no longer recognize, and it isn’t just the kids like that sad Miley Cyrus, who unfortunately we actually do recognize.  But it is Billy Joel who was entertaining for several minutes before we recognized him.  Oh dear!  Time does fly!

Happy New Year!

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What I Learned From My Grandmother

by Filed Under: Family Life

Sometimes we remember members of our family saying things that do not sound right.  My grandmother was one such person in my life.

When I was a little girl, I remember my Grandmother, who lived next door, waving goodbye to my uncle, aunt, and cousins as they left to go home after Christmas.  It had been a wild and crazy four days of five adults and four kids.

 

Family Scene

My Grandmother and all her family, except my Dad. (About 1960)

My boy cousins were six and eight, and my little sister and I were five and three.  Christmas Eve dinner was cooked and eaten, Santa came, we visited all Christmas Day, and it was the day after.  As their wood-paneled 1956 Ford station wagon pulled out of the driveway, my grandmother waved goodbye and said, “Glad to see them come and glad to see them go.”

I remember being so confused.  All weekend, she laughed, cooked, cleaned, ran around after us, and seemed to enjoy herself.  This was also the sweetest person in my life.  I remember mulling over what she said.  It seemed so mean.

Now it is over 50 years later,  and I’m in front of our home waving goodbye to my kids and their families.  The grandchildren, most of whom are rug rats, are mostly toddlers.  And that memory crept back from long ago when I was standing in my grandmother’s driveway.

“Glad to see them come and glad to see them go.”

I understand her perfectly now.    🙂

 

The Grandchildren

Chuck and me and our Six Grandchildren

Frozen: A Classic Disney Movie for Christmas

by Filed Under: Movies

I believe the movie “Frozen” will become a traditional Christmas classic. Four years ago we took a chance to see it with 18-month-old Bryce. He did well, and the review I wrote about the movie follows.

But last year just before Christmas five-year-old Bryce watched it again with his grandfather Chuck, who never saw it before. They both loved it! Bryce, of course, didn’t remember the first time he saw it so I decided to share what happened.

Five-year-old Bryson loves Harry Potter, too.

December 2013

Last Saturday morning, my children asked me if I would help them with babysitting.  They wanted to take the two older grandchildren to a full-length movie–their first.

They asked if I would keep the younger, who is 18 months old.   I said yes, but I thought I had a better idea.  I suggested that the 18-month old and I would go, too, with the understanding that when he got fussy, he and I would leave.  We thought it was a good plan, so this is what we did.

Bryce as a toddler.

We went to see the new Disney movie called “Frozen”.  It was fun and wonderful.  At first, I was concerned that this was a little girl’s movie.  In the movie, the two sisters grow up, and one meets a wonderful prince.  However, the real fun begins when something goes wrong in their kingdom and a little feisty, funny-looking snowman named Olaf steals the show. Together with a klutzy reindeer named Sven, there is a lot for the little boys.

What a wonderful new Disney movie.  It was perfect for our little fellows, ages 18 months to 3 years, and it had grown up humor that went right over the little ones’ heads.  I believe this film is right up there with Snow White, Bambi, and other classics.  We all loved it.

So you’re probably wondering about what happened with the 18-month old?

I’ll tell you what happened.  We made it through the entire film.  Bryce was totally fascinated with the big screen.  He watched, sitting in an umbrella stroller until he fell asleep.  We tipped the stroller back to make him more comfortable.

Finally, he awoke and cried a little.  I walked him back into the foyer away from the audience but where I could still see the movie.  He started watching again, and then I went back and set down with him in my lap.  He watched the rest of the show.

It was a wonderful thing to do with the grandchildren during the holidays.  What a blessing!

So it occurred to me that the movie “Frozen” may become a classic Christmas movie, always airing during the holidays for each new generation of toddlers much like “Cinderella” was for us Baby Boomers.

How young do you take children to the movies? What other classics work well for this age group? Do you remember watching classic movies during the holidays? What movies do you remember?

A Senior Driving in the Fast Lane

by Filed Under: It's Not For Sissies

I never knew there was a swamp across the street from Winn Dixie, until my grandfather pulled out in front of someone one Saturday afternoon.  The lady’s mangled car plowed into the woods over there and down into that swamp.  He said, “that woman, she just came flying out of nowhere.”  Thus, he was my first memory of a senior driving–or at least the first one I really noticed.

The police said that the lady was driving well under the speed limit.   Thanks to seat belts, both were fine; but granddaddy a few days later bought a brand new pickup truck.  He was 90.  Now that is optimism!

A few months later, that new truck almost mowed me down on a sidewalk.  If it hadn’t been for my friend, I wouldn’t be here today.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a vehicle bounce up on the curb just as my friend yanked me out of the way.  The truck bounced back down into the parking spot, and my granddaddy climbed out and jaywalked across the street to the hardware store as if nothing happened.  He noticed neither one of us.

Taking the Keys Away

My friend said, “you people need to do something about your grandfather’s driving.”  I’m thinking as if that will ever happen.  We would surely have to pry those keys out of his cold, dead fingers.

You see, granddaddy was 90 something when he chased one of the running great-grandbabies down before she could reach the street.   He was still agile and could run.  We were all there, but he didn’t yell for one of us to do something.  He just took care of the problem, just like he always did.  I can still see those old long legs striding across that lawn.  He was a tall man, even in his old age.  He was still strong and didn’t think that his senior driving privileges should be curtailed in the least.

Looking back I guess we should have known that his driving was a problem.  Our younger teenaged cousins told us that they were afraid of his driving back when he was in his early 80s.  They discovered this while on a trip to the mountains with granddaddy and grandma. My cousin said that he would rather get on any roller coaster anywhere than get in granddaddy’s truck in the mountains. You know it’s serious when the teenagers refuse to ride with him.

Granddaddy has passed now.  We never took his keys away.  He finally fell and broke his hip about a year later.  His truck set in his driveway throughout his eight months of therapy, but he never recovered enough to walk again.   We certainly didn’t encourage him to go back to driving, and thankfully he never tried.

Spatial Errors in Driving

My mother-in-law’s driving was legendary, too.  We have a drive-way that encircles a garden in our front yard.  It is about fifty feet across; and it has several rose bushes, a small tree at one end and lots of liriope surrounding it.  About once every two months, you could tell that someone had driven through it.

I was always fairly certain the someone was my mother-in-law, and I knew for sure when I watched her drive through it one evening.   The headlights bounced through shining up in the trees and down into the bushes on each side of the driveway.  Surely, she knew that she had run over something. Thankfully, though, she always missed the roses; but the liriope on one side was stunted and the tree sort of leaned.  She, too, became a classic senior driver in our family.  She, too, was in her 90s.

Her garage door looked like a war was waged inside.  It bulged out in several places, where she tried to drive out before remembering to raise the door.  She also tried to close the garage door before completely backing out one day.  It closed on her hood.  Her hood was all bent up, but it was several months before we found out what really happened.  Her friend finally let the cat out of the bag.

So we have had our moments with the senior driving, but it still did not prepare me for this.

Boomer Drivers

We were almost home from the Thanksgiving holiday, after a long day of driving across four states.  I did most of the driving because I handle the interstate better than my husband who is ten years my senior.  So you can see why I gave him the wheel at our last stop before home.  We were less than 30 miles away with nothing but blue highways to go.  I was tired, and the kids sent me a couple of texts that I wanted to answer.

Just before we got to the house, Chuck stopped at the local CVS.  I’m still texting, and he says, “Stay here.  I’ll be right back.”  I never look up, but then I realize that our car is moving, as in rolling backward.  He is already halfway into the store, and I yelled, “Chuck! Chuck!”.

Panic sits in.  I looked over at the brake.  I am no contortionist.  At my age climbing over into the driver’s seat in a little Rav4 will take some painful maneuvering.  I’m still rolling back across the parking lot downhill toward the busy street. Chuck is already pulling at the driver’s door, but we’re going too fast.  Then thank goodness I remember the handbrake.  God bless the person who put it in between the seats.  I pulled it, and the car stopped.

Chuck, who is always the calm one, gets in and pulls the car back up into the parking place.  He makes sure I’m ok, and then this time he puts it in park and goes inside.  I was stunned.

My mind began to race, as I pulled the pieces together.  It has been almost five years since my mother-in-law passed away, but lately, I noticed that someone has been driving through my garden again.  I also noticed as mentioned earlier that Chuck’s driving on the interstate is not good, too much floating over the line.  And don’t get him talking about anything because all of a sudden we’re going 45 miles an hour in a 70 mile an hour speed zone.  He seems to forget that he is driving.

Night driving is becoming a problem.  When turning, especially left, I think he cannot see the lines.  He slows and seems to be feeling his way through the dark left turn.  I’ve asked him about it, but he says that everything is fine.  Like granddaddy, Chuck is driving slower and slower.  I remember thinking that surely granddaddy’s driving couldn’t be all that unsafe because he drove so slowly.

So we finally left CVS.  I’ve finally settled down, and I’m looking at my texts again when I realize that we’re slowing down for a green light.  Lately, I’ve noticed that he slows far too much in advance of a light.  I say, “Chuck, the light is green.”  He’s red-green color blind, and I’ve always noticed a moment of hesitation when coming to a light.  He begins to accelerate, but we’re still rolling slowly when the light turns yellow.  I’m thinking he’ll just stop now, but instead he floors it and accelerates through the “now” red light.   He says, “I guess I’m a little tired of driving”.

Oh my God!  I’m thinking, “there’s your sign”.   He napped off and on–while I drove all day–and now he says “I’m tired?”

Thank the Lord, there was no traffic in the intersection, but we will pay–because we’ll get another one of those red light photo tickets in the mail–like the one he got about a month ago.

Oh dear! It hasn’t been an entire decade since the kids moved out of the house and our car insurance premiums got back to normal. Sigh!  I guess we’ve officially entered the senior driving zone.

Did you have someone in your life who scared you when they drove?  Were they a senior?  When should someone take their keys away? Or should they?

What I Learned About Dying from an Old Dog

by Filed Under: Family Life

My two grandmothers were such a lesson in life. Both lived close by. In addition, my friend’s father also added lessons to my life…lessons about dying.

My younger grandmother was very good about visiting the elderly. I used to go along with her. She was old, herself; or at least I thought so at the time. But there were friends of hers who were older and were shut-ins. Those were the elderly that we visited. She could still drive, and she was a great cook. She would make them a covered dish and deliver it. I really did like to go along. Her friends had such great stories of times long past.  Dying was not a subject I heard, though, unless it was a funeral.

My other grandmother was almost fifteen years older, but she herself was a shut-in. She was active in her garden, and she liked to take long walks. However, she no longer drove, so she depended on all of us for her needs and groceries.

Several of her lady friends came to visit from time to time. I loved to lay on the cool wood floor in her hall, where I was out of sight. They had no idea I was anywhere around. I loved to listen to them talk. Those ladies loved to gossip, and it was better than a soap opera.

One time I fell asleep, but thankfully woke up in time to slither back out the side door. If she had caught me, it would have been hell to pay. She could snap off and strip a switch faster than you could bat an eye.

I think she really liked being at home, though; and she never seemed bored. I can’t remember her complaining. The only cross word I ever heard from her was when one of us kids got out of line.

Passing Relatives and New Friends

So where am I going with this? Well, my grandmothers have long since passed, but I still like to visit the elderly. One gentleman, the father of a high school friend, lives alone now and is 86. I try to stop in about once every two months. He is losing his sight. I always take him something to eat, because he is alone now. His kids live out of town.

We always have something to talk about. Today, we talked about where he used to work.  He worked on one of the large hunting plantations that we are famous for in this region.

He always begins talking at some point, though, about his ailments; but we usually move on to other subjects. Today, however, he returned again to his infirmities. He even talked about God’s plans for him. He said that he cannot fathom why God wants to keep him here.

My friend is almost blind and growing feeble. He is worried about having to move out of his home.

My Friend’s Old Dog

Then he told me a story about an old dog that he and his late wife owned. He said the dog was really his wife’s. It developed problems with its hips and was in terrible pain.

The vet in our community lived just down the road from them, and from time to time as needed the vet stopped by their home to give the dog a shot for his pain. My friend said that the dog would be fine for a little while, but the pain came back sooner after each shot.

Finally, he said, one day the vet came down to their house; and he asked my friend’s wife if she would please go and help his (the vet’s) wife down at their house. When she left, the vet told this elderly friend of mine that it was time to put the dog down.

My friend was telling me this story, while we were sitting in the long dogtrot-like central hallway that travels from the front to the back of his old farmhouse. He said that it was here that he held the old dog, while the vet gave the shot that put him to sleep.

My elderly friend wondered aloud as to why we can put dogs out of their misery but not ourselves. It was a sobering thought, but I didn’t try to add any thoughts of my own. I think he just wanted me to listen.

The conversation, though, reminded me of my grandmother, the one who was a shut-in. She lived well into her 90s, and I became her caregiver in her final years. She told me on numerous occasions that she didn’t understand why she was living so long. She said that she was tired and ready to go. I was young and immortal. I argued with her and tried to convince her that she was important to all of us.  I wasn’t ready to let her go.

I heard it again when I visited my 96-year-old uncle.  He too questioned why he was still around.

Now I’ve finally reached the age where I, too, ponder death. I’m lucky to have had family members who bravely accepted this next chapter in their lives. I’ve lost all my grandparents and parents. None of them ever seemed to have any fear of dying, but it is still a little frightening to go where you have never been before. My elderly friend, my uncle, and my grandmother were ready, but I guess I’m not…yet.

Who in your family taught you about dying with grace? Do you fear dying? Do you think it comes easier with age?