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Archive for the ‘Time’ Category

Beware of Old Buicks

Posted in State of Mind, Time, tagged , , , , , , , , on October 30, 2015| 7 Comments »

Cautiously, I started to pass the large, slow-moving two-tone brown ’76 Buick LeSabre I’d been following for several minutes. The car with no visible driver. The one that couldn’t quite decide if it was in the right lane or the left lane.

I knew what I’d see when I pulled alongside the old Buick. Two small hands gripping the steering wheel at 10 and 2, a tightly permed white-haired head peering just barely over the giant steering wheel, eyes straight ahead.

It was a poignant moment for me. I could place myself, as a child in the passenger seat, excitedly riding with my grandmother to the washateria that was next to the S&H Green Stamp store.

But I just as easily placed myself in the driver’s seat, driving the same route I’d driven for 40 years in the same car, but anxious about all the new traffic and pedestrians and bicycles and construction. Everyone so impatient. Feeling like a nuisance.

I was reminded of one of my elderly clients, Charles.  Charles came in to my office to “make some changes to his Will.” Again.

Charles was stooped and each step was painful and slow, but he was determined. Even with his thick bifocals, Charles could barely read the paper he held right up to his nose.

“Shall I call you a cab?” I asked when he finished signing. “Don’t need a cab – my car’s out front.”

Did someone drive you here?  No, I can drive myself.  But, how, Charles, how?  You can barely see.

Well, I open the car door just enough so I can look down and see the white lines on the road and that keeps me going straight.  Been getting around that way for years.1976_Buick_LeSabre_Custom

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Baggage – Men are from Mars, Women are from Earth

Posted in State of Mind, That Was Then, This Is Now, tagged , , , , , , on August 12, 2015| 1 Comment »

Men and women and their baggage. Accumulated. Unnecessary. Inevitable. Excess. Baggage by proxy.

In another life, I hauled around all kinds of baggage in my purse:

  • pacifier
  • folding potty seat
  • baby bottle
  • diapers
  • picture book
  • baggie of animal cookies
  • couple of Hot Wheels
  • a stuffed animal or two

Along with:

  • an overstuffed wallet
  • checkbook
  • lipstick, lip gloss, lip balm, Carmex
  • keys
  • tissues
  • bulging organizer full of laboriously clipped coupons
  • brush, mirror
  • sunglasses
  • pen, notepad
  • feminine products
  • pain reliever
  • tweezers
  • Band-Aids
  • receipts
  • shopping list

This baggage hanging off my shoulder started off weighing more than the infant cradled across my chest. Over time, it served to offset the weight of the squirming toddler wedged against my hip and the insistent other child tugging my arm.

My husband’s baggage fit neatly in his pockets.

Swap out the baby items for anti-aging supplements, props and promising potions, add a cell phone and charger, reading glasses, an ATM card or two, dry-eye drops, stick in an E-reader, an eco-friendly reusable shopping bag, chuck the Carmex, the checkbook and the coupon organizer, and the baggage I’m shouldering today weighs about the same – maybe more – but now one hip is out of line and one arm is longer than the other.

He still doesn’t need a purse for his baggage.

Men are from Mars, Women are from Earth. Look it up. Mars v Earth

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Mother’s Day – A Week + A Day Later – A Cultural Shift?

Posted in State of Mind, That Was Then, This Is Now, tagged , , , , , on May 18, 2015| 1 Comment »

How many bosses can a woman with children have? All women with children are working moms. Some get an actual paycheck – some don’t. Regardless, we all know that the real boss is the child.

I grew up in the ’50s when Dr. Spock’s book, The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care, was right up there next to the Bible. I wore out my mother’s paperback edition raising my own children in the late ’70s and ’80s. Just like my mother, I wanted to be the best mother I could but wasn’t quite sure how to do that or how to measure my success. Dr. Spock’s opening line was Trust Yourself: You know more than you think you do. Maybe yes – maybe no.  But, when I’d exhausted all other available resources, I went with my instinct.  1968 Baby and Child Care

Is mothering in 2015 harder than mothering in 1950 or 1980?  I don’t think so. But, is there a different pressure to “entertain” children? Probably. Dr. Spock reminded us that children can and should entertain themselves.

Social researcher, Wednesday Martin, Ph.D., observes that today, “failing to nurture your child on every imaginable measure and enrich him in every possible way is considered neglect… Sociologists call it ‘intensive motherhood’ – a gendered ideology that dictates that women should spend enormous amounts of time, energy, and money on childrearing, and that failing to do so is failing to be a good mother… Children who once worked for us are now our bosses.”

I appreciate where she’s coming from and agree wholeheartedly with Dr. Martin that today’s mothers are under tremendous pressure to prove themselves as mothers, that motherhood is “intensive”. I’m not sure there is a true “cultural shift” since the ’50s. There are certainly many more ways to “entertain” a child today and a miasma of instant information and opinions at a mom’s fingertips. But I didn’t work for my mom in 1950 and my children never worked for me.

Motherhood was intense in 1950.  It was intense in 1980.  It is intense today.  One way or another, children have always been the “boss”.  2011 Baby and Child Care

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Goddesses, Mother’s Day, Ancient Greece

Posted in That Was Then, This Is Now, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on May 9, 2015| 3 Comments »

Mothers are goddesses. It’s common knowledge. The nurturers. The givers of life. To be celebrated and honored.

To the ancient ones, there was just something about spring and mothers that equaled FESTIVAL!  Dancers, musicians, singers, food, costumes. Maybe a sacrificial slaughter in honor of a mythical goddess like Egypt’s Isis or the Greco-Roman deity, Cybele, the great mother of all.  These maternal goddesses were not just nurturers and the givers of life, they were symbols of powerful female forces in the universe. Even the early Christians honored the Virgin Mary with a festival on the fourth Sunday of Lent.

Spring and mothers and festivals. I see a pattern here.

Which brings me to 12-year old Anna Jarvis, Webster, Virginia, 1876, listening to her mother’s prayer after a lesson on ‘Mother’s of the Bible’. “I hope that someone, sometime will found a memorial mothers day commemorating her for the matchless service she renders to humanity in every field of life. She is entitled to it.” Anna Jarvis never forgot her mother’s prayer and, at her mother’s gravesite, vowed “… by the grace of God, you shall have that Mothers Day”(cue music).

Anna was not kidding. Her Mother’s Day campaign started in 1905 at her local Methodist church and she didn’t stop until, in 1914, President Wilson proclaimed the second Sunday in May as the official American national holiday we all know and love.

Mother’s Day 2015. Americans who love their mothers and their mothering friends, sisters, neighbors, grandmothers, and those who have “been like a mother-to-me”, are projected to spend $21.2 BILLION DOLLARS on flowers, cards, gifts and … brunch.

$21.2 BILLION DOLLARS. A stack of just one billion one dollar bills measures 67.9 miles. Multiply that by 21.2 billion and you’ve got a stack of one dollar bills 1439.48 miles high.

$21.2 BILLION DOLLARS. That’s about 210,000 new Tesla Roadsters.

$21.2 BILLION DOLLARS. That’s almost 9 billion gallons of gas.

As a mother, with a mother, who knows so many wonderful mothers, I feel I can speak for us all.

Where’s my festival!

festival of lights

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My Apologies to Black Pepper

Posted in This Is Now, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 3, 2015| 2 Comments »

I am reading Eat and Run: My Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathons about and by Scott Jurek.  I can’t put it down and I am not a runner. He mentions treating a severely sprained ankle with a compress of black pepper, turmeric, flour and water which, obviously, prompted further research.

My apologies to Black Pepper.    peppercorns

I’ve known you my entire life, consumed you with barely a nod, considered you merely the other half of salt and pepper. Used you as a flavor-enhancer and then cast you aside. But now I know and am forever changed.  I once was blind, but now I see. You are not only one of the most widely traded spices in the world, you are MEDICINE. The holy grail.

anti-inflammatory (I, too, am against inflamation)
anti-bacterial
pro-natural preservative
pro-efficient digestion  (as am I)
pro-great skin
anti-mucus and phlegm (I’m so opposed to phlegm)
anti-oxidant
anti-cognitive malfunction (really big on my list)
etc.

On top of all this, the peperine in black pepper increases curcumin absorption by 2000%!  And we all know and respect curcumin (as in turmeric).

Back to my apology. I apologize for my indifference and my ignorance.

And “thank you” to the wonders of this abundant EARTH.

blackpepper with leaves

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Is It Just Me or Is Time Actually Flying By? or “Having Breakfast Every Half Hour”

Posted in State of Mind, Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 26, 2015| 2 Comments »

Despite indisputable evidence to the contrary (chronology), I’ve coddled the notion that I have time on my side. Not that I have more time in front of me than behind me. Not that I have all the time in the world. But that time is still…friendly.

I prefer to think of time as being circular, without end. Or multi-dimensional. Or relative – dependent on my perception – at the time. I don’t understand time travel but I embrace the idea.

In a culture hell-bent on defying and denying time, I have done my best to wage war alongside my comrades – armed with positive thoughts and a bag of supplements. If only I could clearly identify the “enemy”.

Ancient Rome had Saturn – god of time.  Saturn was heir to the throne; next-in-line to be king of the Titans.  But his father, Uranus, was in no hurry to step down as king so Saturn took time into his own hands and, with a slash of his sickle, castrated his father.  Of course, it was only a matter of time until Saturn was overthrown by his son, Jupiter.

If the god of time can’t control time, how can my comrades and I?

I remember, exactly, the day my friend and colleague sat across the table and asked me, “how much longer do you plan to work?”  Hers was a very practical question – if we hire you, how long will you stay?

If you are part of the workforce, time is always breathing down your neck.  And, if you are a woman in the workforce, that foul-smelling breath whispers words like competitive edge, staying current, and skill sets interspersed with crepey neck, puffy eyes, and veiny hands.  And no amount of positive attitude or magic potions can halt the ravages of time.

Time is moving at a rate at which I cannot keep up. In fact, it seems to be moving so fast that I can hear it. Not a steady deliberate brisk march. But a bullet train. And I’m hanging on for dear life.

When asked by Steve Kroft about “this whole aging thing” during a 2013 60 Minutes interview, British actress, Maggie Smith, age 78, remarked, “Noel Coward… said ‘The awful thing about getting old is that you have breakfast every half-hour.’  And that’s sort of what it is.  I can’t understand why everything has to go so fast.”

Dame Maggie gives me hope.  At 80, she is in demand and bankable – a stand-out in Downton Abbey and The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and the sequel, The Second Best Exotic ….  I can just picture her riding the bullet-train that is time with an Oscar in one hand and a script in the other, trying to keep her glasses from blowing off her face.

“Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but

I am the river;

it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but

I am the fire.”

-Jorge Luis Borges

Ah… now I get it. Time is me. I am my own enemy. Waging war against myself. What else is new!

time-warp

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Bones

Posted in State of Mind, Time, tagged , , , , , , , on November 2, 2014| 1 Comment »

“My advice?  If you ski, don’t.”  Well, the last time I snow skied and fell with both legs splayed out in two different directions; I decided to sell my skis.

“Don’t put on a pair of skates.”  Well, OK, no skating.  I turned 64 last month and, short of a brief, passing interest in the crazy inline skates Cesar Millan, aka The Dog Whisperer, wears while effortlessly taming those crazed pit bulls on his TV show, I haven’t even thought about skating in years.

“I wouldn’t even climb a step-ladder.  Your osteoporosis is acute.”  Now you’ve got my attention.  I do enjoy climbing a step ladder every now and then.

“A drug called Forteo will fix your problem.”  Wait!  Not so fast!  What about Eli Lilly’s bold disclaimer on the first page of the slick brochure and in the CD that comes with the slick brochure?  WARNING: POTENTIAL RISK OF OSTEOSARCOMA.[1] 

Ah, well, that has to do with the results of the company’s testing on rats.  Rats that already had some health issues that were given excessive doses of the drug.  I processed this as “So, you’re saying these were compromised, weakened rats, bombarded with a powerful drug and this really has nothing to do with what might happen to me on this drug since I’m not a stressed out sick little caged rat.”  Osteosarcoma has rarely been reported in people who took FORTEO.[2]  Rare is not the same as never.  Please, do go on.

How powerful is this drug?  Well, it requires a daily injection for 2 years.  And for no more than 2 years.  What happens after 2 years?  I’m not quite sure.

At a cost of give or take $1500 a month.  I have incredibly crappy insurance so maybe I would qualify for some type of break from Eli Lilly.  Or maybe I can wait until Eli Lilly’s patent expires and the price goes down.  Way, way down.  If I don’t ski or put on a pair of skates or climb a step ladder or step off a curb wrong or pick up a gallon of milk the wrong way while the company recoups its research and development costs and makes billions.  While all we baby-booming women get our annual bone density tests.  A roster of small white women with osteo issues that I assume includes bone medication spokeswomen Sally Field and Blythe Danner (well, their TV ads seem credible).

This really isn’t a rant about drug companies.  This is a rant about aging or, more particularly, an acknowledgment.  Here it is.  More than the evidence I see in the mirror.  More than the way my knees feel when I climb the stairs.  This is something that, but for technology, would have stayed silent until it could not be ignored.  It is about feeling vulnerable.  And about staring mortality in the face.

I have been blessed with good genes.  And while I may be more diligent than some in my lifestyle choices, what I eat and drink, how I care for my body, mind and spirit, I know that I am blessed.  I don’t really think I’ve deluded myself into thinking I would not get older, it just happened so fast, while I wasn’t looking.

To the young, beautiful, competent, compassionate pharmacist I spoke to about by Forteo dilemma, I’m sure I looked and sounded like every other 60+ woman she talks to on a daily basis.  I wonder, though, if she could see herself in me.

I hear my young friends talk about time.  Time flying, where did the time go, not enough time.  In this fast-paced world of instant communication – instant change, how can anyone not feel time’s incessant steady vibration.  The enormous universal clock.  The biological clock that ticks for us all – not just for women and their finite eggs – but for every living thing.

I love clocks.  I bought my favorite clock at an outdoor fair in Santa Fe, New Mexico many years ago.  The clever artist used a dental router to etch the words “There’s No Time Like The Present” into a small piece of flagstone, added an inexpensive clock mechanism and, voila, made my favorite clock.

There is no time like the present.  But I believe in the future and preparing for the future and my future in this body is finite, plain and simple.  So, I will study my options, weigh the risks, percolate on the challenge, and appreciate with gratitude overflowing the way my bones have carried me and those I care about, figuratively and literally, so far.

[1] http://www.forteo.com/potential-side-effects-of-osteoporosis-medication.aspx?WT.srch=1

[2] Ibid

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The Women I Come From

Posted in That Was Then, This Is Now, Uncategorized, tagged , , on April 29, 2014| 11 Comments »

It’s easy to forget where I come from, so busy trying to direct where I’m going.
It’s easy to forget I’m not alone, so caught up in making myself count.

And then, in stillness, they speak to me – these women I come from.

Oklahoma to west Texas in a covered wagon.
A third grade education.

Depression survivor.

Homemade jam.
Homemade soap.
Homegrown squash and fresh-drawn cream for sale.

Wring a chicken’s neck for dinner.
Chop cotton.

Church pot lucks. It’s God’s will.

Braids and bows.
Grease and dirt.

No gasoline.
No car.

A widow with three young children.
“Sorry ma’m, we’re taking your farm. “Like hell you will!”

Five little girls all in a row. Hand-me-down dresses hanging on the line.
Wringer washer.
No washer.

“Sorry ma’m, your little boy will never walk again.” “Like hell he won’t!”

Kisses, love, tears, laughs, tough, strong, kind.
Do what needs to be done.

You are us… we’ve come before you.
We’ve paved the way, to show you count.
To proclaim there is nothing more important than you.
Than us.

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