Tag Archives: Positivity

Lessons

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It’s not unusual for me to go to a live performance by myself. I feel I am there to hear and see what is offered onstage. I don’t need company or someone to engage in conversation. There is a college within the region that has an excellent performing arts center. Although there are smaller, historic venues locally, this particular location is my favorite. They bring in high quality acts. I mention that I go solo and there is reason for my choice. Even after the tickets have been on sale for an extended time, I usually can find an open single seat close to the stage. It is so enjoyable to sit close enough that you can almost reach out and touch them and see the expression on their face.

Recently I attended a comedy show. Again, sitting close to the stage allowed me to see them as well as I would while watching television. I laughed so much that often I had tears in my eyes. The show seemed to go by so quickly. As the program ended, the lights went up and the ushers began to go through the aisles, straightening and cleaning. A couple, who had seats in front of me, decided at that time they would start a conversation. Being the social being that I am, I often engage in conversation with strangers. I anticipated a quick exchange that would send us on our way. I was wrong.

The man told me he had attended four Paul McCartney concerts. There was almost a hint of condescension in his voice as he told me that there were no concerts that could compare. I did not have the urge to share my concert history with him. The memory of attending my first concert still brings a smile to my face. I can recall the excitement of seeing Elton John in his purple sequins. I then realized that somehow the conversation turned from concerts to marriage. Did I miss something as a result of my Elton John revery?

He and his wife stood side by side, smiling at me. She appeared to be older, but some people age better than others. It was not my place to judge. I believe he stated they had been married for 25 years. He said he takes her everywhere. Again, his tone annoyed me. In my mind I thought his comment sounded like a pet owner who bragged about taking their well-behaved four-legged companion out with them. I envisioned a Chihuahua tucked in someone’s purse or pocket. I began to bristle when he asked about my status. When I admitted to being divorced, he had the gall to ask how old I was when I married. My gut told me not to answer, but I did. He proceeded to lecture me about the appropriate age to marry. I noticed his wife did nothing but smile and nod. Finally, good fortune smiled upon me and an usher asked if we could take our conversation out to the lobby. Silently I looked at her and mouthed “thank you”. She not only saved me from that situation but lead me to the side of the building where I could exit without having to continue to the lobby and risk any further contact with the couple.

My reaction was not typical for me. I was annoyed that after an evening of comedy this brief conversation robbed me of my light hearted feeling.  I have always enjoyed those random conversations where you can quickly find some commonality with another individual. I was not in the mood for a lecture from a total stranger. I never took my divorce lightly but twenty years after the fact I am settled into a lifestyle where I am content. I don’t fall into the black hole of would of, could of, should of. I questioned why this individual got under my skin and then I realized what the lesson might have been. I commented about his wife and her age. I claimed that I don’t judge, yet I did. Although I kept my thoughts to myself, I was annoyed by his arrogant manner and her appearance of timidity. I adopted the motto of live and let live, yet that evening it appears it escaped me. Rather than carry the aggravation of that encounter I will focus on the positive. I won’t stop talking to strangers but when I come across someone who’s lifestyle is divergent, I will be grateful that I have created a life perfect for me, one of independence and the ability to chart my own course.

Apprehension

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Decades ago, our country was told we had nothing to fear but fear itself. Fear can be an overwhelming emotion. It can make your heart feel like it is in your throat.  Fear can make you lightheaded and weak in the knees. Fear can also stop you in your tracks and prevent you from safely moving forward, figuratively and literally. Have I known fear? Obviously, I have or I wouldn’t be able to put words to the emotion. As my mother neared the end of her life, we had many heartfelt conversations. On several occasions she told me that she thought I wasn’t afraid of anything. I don’t know if she found comfort and pride in that observation or concern over me daringly charging ahead.

I can look back over my life and remember times when I felt concern about what tomorrow might bring. Some of those concerns appear so silly now. One that lingers, for unknown reasons, is the change in uniforms at school. I attended parochial school from kindergarten through my senior year. The elementary school went through eighth grade. When making the passage into junior high, or seventh grade, we were allowed to remove the top part of our uniform jumpers and transition to skirts. The nuns must have felt that we, as preteens, had earned the right to show our status by the change. I can still remember the apprehension I felt on the first day of school that year. What if my mother had it wrong and removed the top of my jumper in error? It was with great relief that I saw all my female classmates in their skirts, topped with a white blouse and finished off with a navy-blue tie that would cross at the neck. I don’t know why that experience has remained with me. Did I actually fear the adjustment of my uniform or did the thought of change make me apprehensive? Other than embarrassment, what harm would have come to me?

There have been other life experiences that have given me pause. I remember, during the last week or two of my pregnancy, looking down at my abdomen and feeling apprehensive.  Thought was given to not only the pain of delivery but the overwhelming responsibility I felt for raising this new life. Again, I wasted my energy by letting my mind go there. My delivery was easy and I consider my son my greatest accomplishment. Trials often appeared but there was never any choice other than to move forward. There are legions of others that have joined me in conquered those same hurdles. I have experienced divorce, the elimination of professional positions, purchasing a house on my own and the loss of loved ones. There was no time for fear and the only choice was to find a way to achieve what was necessary.

I am not vain or a braggart. I have done what I needed to do in order to get to the other side of a challenge. I look at my contemporaries and marvel at the courage and back bone they possess to have met things that have come their way. I revisit the naïve school girl I once was and how foolish it seems to have been concerned about wearing an incorrect uniform. Currently I don’t feel as if I am confronted with encounters that induce fear. A life time of experience has provided me with the skills not to concentrate on the inconsequential. There might be cause for apprehension while waiting for results of medical tests that were never anticipated but the loss of sleep doesn’t change the outcome. Our physical bodies are miraculous but time does wear on them. I might be a bit slower in my step but I will continue to put one foot in front of the other. Every day that I meet, breathing and upright, I consider a win. If apprehension creeps into my psyche, I feel a nudge that lets me know I still have work to do and I will confront it with confidence. It is nothing to fear.

Karma

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What goes around comes around or as my mother would say, God will punish you for that. If your mouth was accidently injured it was the result of the time you talked back. If you hurt your hand, it was the result of the time you smacked your sibling. I am sure you get the picture. I don’t recall my mother ever using the word karma but I think, in her own way, she understood the concept.

I learned much from my mother but there are things she did that I am certain Doctor Spock never addressed. One favorite was the time she sent me to my room without dessert because I complained about her serving rice pudding. There was another time that she must have found my stuffy nose annoying. She repeatedly told me to blow my nose and I am sure my response was something spiteful. Her solution was to make me sniff black pepper. I believe her theory was by producing a hefty sneeze I would rid myself of the congestion. To this day, even the smallest whiff of pepper, will induce an immense amount of sneezing. Karma?

A recent trip to the cemetery brought back another incident involving karma. As a young bride I shared with my father the desire to adorn my house with beautiful flower beds. He disapproved by saying that you can’t eat flowers; a vegetable garden would be more practical. The thought of putting nasturtiums in a salad would have been lost on him. I do think it was rather hypocritical for him to always surprise our mother with freshly cut bouquets from our yard’s bounty as she couldn’t eat them. Out of all the flowering bushes we had decorating our landscape, he did have a very strong opinion about forsythia. It was the bane of his existence as he would often try to remove the plant yet it always seemed to return healthy and ready for growth. Visiting his grave at the cemetery would always make me chuckle. Behind his plot was a magnificent hedge of forsythia. I have even been known to place a few sprigs of forsythia in the silk arrangements I would leave to decorate the gravesite. His guidance in horticulture has provided me with years of humor. No good deed goes unpunished.

I have said often, more times than I can count, that what comes back to you is the result of how you live your life. While at the cemetery I felt like my father had been redeemed. The forsythia had been removed and replaced with evergreens. I, too, felt like I was the beneficiary of good fortune. It is rare that I find the office open when I am visiting on a weekend. I crossed paths with the cemetery administrator and was able to inquire about the family bench being restored. I was content, not only because of what was accomplished, but in conversation I learned this individual and I shared many of the same experiences in our lives. Preparing for my departure, a woman in the car next to me made a point of advising me that one of my tires was extremely low. It was on the passenger side of the car, unbeknownst to me. As simplistic as it seems, my observation is that karma centers on human relationships. Treat others as you would have them treat you. I advise you look for the common factor in others; do the figural walk a mile in their shoes. It isn’t necessary to focus on recompense, karma will handle it. Trust me on this one.

One Enchanted Evening

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Years ago, I found pleasure in belonging to a local Civil War Round Table. Once a month we would gather for dinner and then enjoy a presentation by a scholarly individual. I wasn’t as interested in military tactics and equipment as I was in the actual people. I found it fascinating that both sides, not just soldiers but citizens too, felt they were ordained by God. I found their sacrifice and ingenuity inspiring. In time I let my membership to the group lapse. Life changed with divorce, loss of employment and a move. Recently when my friend and her husband offered to treat me to dinner prior to attending a presentation related to local Civil War history, I was more than happy to accept. I was reminded of a time that I enjoyed, now committed to memory.

The location holds its events in a barn rather than the house that is the actual museum. Parking is in a stone laden lot and it appeared to be filling up quickly that evening. We parked and as I exited the car, I began to converse with a man who was parked next to us. We spoke as we made our way on the path to the barn. I found this gentleman attractive and conversation came easily. In that short period of time we found commonality. He opened the door for me as I knew he would. When we moved into the barn, we parted ways. The seating was arranged in rows of three seats, separated by an aisle. As I was attending with friends, we naturally sat together. I wondered, if I had come alone as I often do to events, would this gentleman and I sit together. Would we have continued to engage in conversation? I realize I am putting a lot on this total stranger. It could be he is married and his wife doesn’t enjoy history, heaven forbid we belong to different political affiliations or maybe he is an ax murderer. I was surprised by my thoughts. I am independent and not in the market for a relationship. It is very rare for me to entertain a “what it” scenario.

In all fairness, I will admit that in the early stages of being divorced, I looked online for dating material. I thought that was the acceptable thing to do. After twenty-six years of marriage I found that dating had greatly changed. It continues to bother me that you are expected to pay for a subscription in order to meet someone, yet I gave it a try. I did meet someone and we had progressed to the stage of talking by phone. I am sure he was a very nice man but his slaughter of the English language made me wince. After a dozen years of parochial school, his disregard for proper grammar was too much to take. Much later, I waded into the pool of online dating again. I was beginning to chat with a man that was a professional, held a high office in a civic group and enjoyed travel. I was open to getting to know him better until I found him with another profile that had glaring discrepancies from the original one. In both I realize he might have left out something important. Most likely he was an ax murderer. I pulled my profile and that marked the last time I entertained meeting someone online.

You might think I am exaggerating about my disinterest in dating, but it hasn’t been something I have focused on for the past 20 years. One of my brothers, a musician, had lived an hour and half away from me. His band had a job booked close to my home and I was looking forward to hearing him play. It was a rare opportunity. It happened to be a Sunday night singles dance. I was familiar with the location and the dances. I wasn’t sure if they were held weekly or monthly but I knew this one night I would be there. I took a seat up front, close to the band. My focus remained on my brother and his fellow band members. At one point a man came over to me and asked me to dance. I think I responded with an incredulous look. No, I didn’t want to dance, I was there to hear the band. Now in hind sight I realize he might have been more shocked than I was by my response.

Now you have heard all my confessions, there is one more. The man attending the presentation will never know that he is held in high regard. His conversation had me think companionship might be enjoyable. Job well done! With a smile on my face I will return to reality.

One Is Not Like the Others

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My brothers and I were transplants. When our father left Georgia, as a young man, he was never again to make it his home. He met our mother in Philadelphia. We would live there until Navy recruiting duty would have us move. We left a metropolitan area and moved to a small town whose livelihood was centered more on blue collar employment. It almost felt like we were in our own little bubble. We didn’t live close enough to spend holidays and special occasions with our extended family and our celebrations found us together, as immediate family.

I always thought we were a pretty tight family unit. Although we were not carbon copies of each other, there was still evidence that we were family. Our childhood memories are the same, incorporating the same neighbors and friends. Although we may possess the same facial expressions and laughter, our independent natures eventually did emerge. Two of my brothers are tall and blue eyed. They favor our father’s side and are both talented musicians. My other brother and I favor our mother. He was always the athlete in the family and in later years has developed an eye for photography and other artistic endeavors. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that our lives have led us down different paths and we are far from being the same.

It was a startling wake up call to realize that although we were raised with the same values, as adults, our belief systems have gone in different directions. I have come to learn that it can be wise to stay away from the topics that are considered taboo: politics and religion. Although I consider myself independent and one who thinks for herself, I have always felt comfortable following in the footsteps of our parents. It wasn’t forced upon me; it was a natural choice. I will admit that as adults, my brothers and I have led different lives. Professionally, socially and education wise there was nothing cookie-cutter about the paths we followed. I feel rather naïve to admit that it wasn’t until the past few years that I have come to recognize our differences.

Although our mother was a constant in our lives, she must have perceived differences in us. When her time was growing short, there were issues that she felt were important to discuss. She expressed her concerns, that being her only girl, that I was not in a relationship. It would have eased her mind to think that after my divorce there was someone to take care of me. I believe her concern was the result of a generational norm. Ironically, my brothers have all been in relationships and I still bristle at the thought of losing my independence. Her main request was that I would ensure the family stays together. I promised her that would not be an issue. She never shared what she thought could cause a division. Upon her death there were no squabbles about her estate. It is not lost on me that in today’s politically charged environment that families are being torn apart. I would never allow that to happen. I love my brothers too much. We were brought up together on the same foundation and the same blood courses through our veins. I will celebrate our connection and accept our differences. Most of all, I will keep the promise I made to our mother all those years ago.

Beyond the Veil

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Sometimes gifts come when you least expect them. I could say that was the case with an addition to our family. My brother had fallen completely head over heels with a pretty cashier at the local department store in which they both worked. He had dated plenty of pretty girls but this was different. I knew she could hold her own with my family the first time I met her. Our home life had always been full of teasing, laughter and banter. Our father was the one who tested the waters. My brother made introductions and my father made a comment, something on the order of her not being as ugly as my brother had stated. Much to her credit, she didn’t run in horror. Obviously, our father didn’t mean it but most would have rethought their situation. She hung in there and passed a test that I am sure she never expected.

She was to become the sister I never had. Our personalities differed yet it never stood in the way of our relationship. We became so close that I often dropped the “in law” portion of her title as my sister-in-law. She felt like blood and it made no difference that she was a girly girl while my roots were that of a tomboy. I was there for her as I knew she was for me. She was my safe confidant.

Realistically, we know that it is natural to lose our parents at some point in life. Hopefully it is later than sooner but we acknowledge that it is natural progression of life. Although I have dreaded the thought, I know that I am at the point in life where contemporaries are making their transition. I would like to bury my head in the sand and say it isn’t so, but it would be a lie. Life progresses and family, friends and their spouses are lost. It is even more heart wrenching when the loss is dealt to someone young.

Though there are many memories of my sister-in-law, one in particular was how every holiday, birthday and anniversary would be celebrated. It could be a card or it could be a gift, her thoughtfulness never failed. I assumed that would all be gone with her death. As I left the hospital upon her transition I noticed a new jet stream in the sky. Looking up I told her to fly high. She was no longer encumbered by illness and it seemed appropriate that she would be soaring heaven ward. I can never view a jet stream without thinking of her. The week of the first anniversary of her death I looked up at the sky as I was leaving the house one morning. I was overcome by the number of jet streams and a cloud that took the shape of an angel.  Even in death it was clear that she was still observing days that held special meaning. I received a gift when I least expected it.

My parents have been gone for some time now but I found love and support in abundance with my sister-in-law’s parents. They would join us at holiday meals and it would make the day complete. Within two years I would lose them as well as my sister-in-law. There are three empty seats now around the table when we gather for holidays. Memories are kept alive and I found that as the recent Christmas season approached, she was often in my thoughts. On Christmas day my brother brought out a bag that he had come across in a closet. It has been two years and he has been in the closet numerous times but this was the first time he noticed the bag. Inside was a gift for me, a necklace, earrings and bracelet. She continues to touch my life. Again, sometimes you receive a gift when you least expect it.

Gifts

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I am fortunate to have a group of friends who I meet with on a regular basis. We gather at least once a month for dinner. We have named our group of five, Sages. Collectively, with several years under our belts, we have learned life’s lessons and feel as if our moniker is justified. My brother kiddingly refers to our events as hen parties but I recognize the importance of our gatherings. In my mind, it feels like we have always been together as a group. I don’t think I am exaggerating when I say we consider each other family. We are there for each other yet our gatherings are also a gift we give ourselves.

It has become routine for one of our group to open their home over the holidays and we enjoy an evening that begins with a delicious pot luck dinner followed by conversation and laughter. Prior to this year we had exchanged both birthday and Christmas gifts. Honestly, we are at the point in our lives that we are not in need of much and no longer exchange material gifts. Tangible items are not as important as the support we freely give one another; it is the best gift of all. It might be a busy time of the year but spending the precious commodity of time with one another makes for an excellent present.

I’m not sure if it is our culture or human nature but it does seem part of our holiday tradition to try to make this time of celebration special. We plan, we purchase, we take the time to find ways to show our love and care for those who mean much to us. There comes a time that those celebrations shift. It could be the result of death, illness or a move out of the area. I took notice of those who were suffering from serious illness, knowing their celebrations would not be like those of the past. Even though preparations weren’t complete at my home, it didn’t seem to matter. I made plans to visit those whose health was challenged. Unfortunately, one individual made her transition prior to Christmas and I didn’t get to see her. Another lesson learned: in giving the gift of time, don’t allow yourself to wait to act upon it.

There have also been sources of happiness that creates the reason for a visit. A friend recently had her fourth baby. The afghan I crocheted was going to be my main offering but I felt I wanted to bring something for the other children. Maybe Dunkin Donuts wasn’t the healthiest choice but it was well received. Planning another trip, closer to Christmas, I again wanted to bring something down for the children. I had the sensation that my company was appreciated as much as my small tangible gift. Not expecting anything in return, I left with a heartwarming token. It appears I might have moved into the role of surrogate grandmother and if that is the case I am filled with joy.

I can recall my mother often saying that our house might not be perfectly clean but she felt she was doing what was more important. She spent time with my three brothers and me. Upon reflection, I was given the gift of a wonderful mother and role model. I will give her the praise for allowing me to realize that the most important gift one can give another is themselves.

Sail On

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One of my friends is ill. I could extol her many outstanding virtues and characteristics yet there are other thoughts that sickness brings to mind. Those thoughts are like clichés, sailing through. Without being boorish, I would like to share a few revelations that have recently come to me.

Collectively, there is truth in the statement that none of us are getting any younger. When I look back at my youth, I can recall the dreams and aspirations that I held. Although my friends aspired to be teachers, nurses, nuns and mothers that was nothing I desired. I did go on to marry and have a son and I hold him as my greatest achievement. That is a role that is not fulfilled by everyone as we have our own path to follow. Although I envisioned my calling within the field of communications, my professional life lead me to work within nonprofits and local governments. I feel my accomplishments are many and I don’t regret the time spent supporting our communities. Now that I am retired, I have no desire to return to any of it. There are no do-overs. That ship has sailed and I am not getting any younger.

When I was in the market for a house, after my divorce, my criteria was rather simple. I envisioned this purchase to be the home in which I would retire. I was looking for one floor, with an area for laundry and a large dining room to hold my family for holiday meals. At the time my realtor explained that being so particular about a dining area might not be very practical. It most likely would not be a room I would use on a regular basis. I would accept none of his guidance. I saw myself as a very social being, with holidays being the ultimate gatherings. It is fair to say that I am satisfied with my dining space but all the entertaining I envisioned is more history than future planning. The plates and serving pieces I acquired aren’t currently being used. My holiday gatherings are smaller now that death has robbed us of several of our loved ones. Due to my chronic illness, fatigue is often a constant companion and I am no longer inspired to entertain. I do hope I find the energy and resolve to clean out all those unnecessary serving pieces and pass them along. Elaborate and laborious proposals have given way to simple gatherings for holiday meals. That ship has sailed and I am not getting any younger.

In retirement it has become blissfully clear that trading time for wages is no longer the norm. In many ways, time is my friend as I am not bound by schedules and alarms. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t aware that my senior status reminds me that a larger portion of my life is behind me rather than ahead. Yet I am allowed to give myself permission to enjoy my time. If a book’s subject matter intrigues me, I am permitted to take the time to read. If God paints a beautiful sunset, I am allowed the time to sit and let the colors envelop me.  When I find a skein of yarn calling to me I can find the time to employ a crochet hook and start creating something. If I am consumed by a group of videos on YouTube there is no issue in watching them but I must remember that portrays someone else’s life and I still need to continue to live mine. Living mine translates into not putting everything off until tomorrow, a day not promised. Realistically, how many of us are ever ready for that ship to sail?

I have often thought of the wisdom of Erma Bombeck in dealing with this topic. Excuse my poor example of paraphrasing, but she was correct in her nudging to live life and not wait for a special occasion.  Now is the time to use the good china or burn the candle. Again, in thinking of illness I find it to be a humbling adversary. Now is the time to pick up the phone, send a note and share a meal. I know that I, in honor of my friend, now choose to live intentionally. I don’t want to be standing on the dock, looking out over the horizon with the sinking feeling that the ship has sailed, this time without me.

Voices

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I am hearing impaired, being totally deaf in one ear. It is manageable but I do struggle with locating the direction of sound. Hearing aids help but everything is funneled into the good “hearing” ear which doesn’t necessarily aid with detecting the origin. Some time ago I was in the parking lot of the behavioral health organization where I worked. I heard my name called but I couldn’t determine the direction it came from in order to acknowledge it. I stood there, looking around, unsuccessful at verifying who was speaking to me. Finally, when locating the individual who happened to be a client, I told her I had heard a voice. Without missing a beat, she said ironically they were the ones who were called crazy when they made comments like that. I have never forgotten that exchange as I have never been challenged with that troubling experience. I have always been able to appreciate individuals and the uniqueness of their voices.

My father never lost his soft southern drawl. Although I have committed his voice to memory, I would give anything to hear him speak again. It has been over 30 years since his death but he has not been relegated to history. I had a dream, several years ago, where my father appeared. It felt less like a dream and more like a visitation. He remained silent throughout the dream and when I woke I missed him more than ever. I found myself sitting up in bed with my arms outstretched, tears running down my face. I could feel his arms around me. It broke my heart that he appeared so life like, yet one of his endearing attributes was missing. It left me longing, more than usual, to hear his voice again.

With the advent of easily obtainable technology, things that would have been only a memory are now preserved by picture and video. It has become more than common place. As we celebrated what would be our mother’s last birthday, my son had the presence of mind to record it. Although her voice was softer and sounded tired, it creates a sentimental memory. My nephew recently posted a video interview of his mother, my late sister in law, on Facebook. Just like my mother, it was a bittersweet moment to hear her voice again. We were close and although we had spent countless hours in conversation over the years I still long for one more.

Technology has made it easier to stay in touch but it feels devoid of true personal connection. I remain current with my lifelong friend through texts and emails. We have lived thousands of miles apart for the majority of our lives. Face to face conversations and phone calls are limited. I laugh when I think about her mother not understanding why we had long nightly phone conversations after spending the day together in school. Maybe it was our way of storing up voice memories for the future. If I were to pick up the phone and hear her voice, there would be no need for introduction. There is a recognition that continues to last. It is much the same for others that I might not have talked to in some time. That individual’s voice is distinct and carries with it history and fond memories.

I will be truthful and acknowledge that not all conversations are pleasant. When my son was testing me, as adolescents and teenagers will do with their parents, there were many times that our voices would be raised. The words spoken were not the kind that you enjoy rehashing when the conversation ended. As we would part, I had a habit of asking my son something that bordered on the dramatic. If these were the last words we spoke to one another, is this the memory we would want to carry with us? Uncomfortable conversations do happen. Is it possible to speak in a calm tone, with truth and honest emotion, when you find it necessary to voice your opinion or anger?  I find it is just as important to voice pleasant and uplifting thoughts as they do no good held bound between someone’s ears. I choose to believe that our voices were given to us to be used as a tool, one for building others up and not tearing them down. Those on the receiving end, would be wise to listen with an open heart as one day that may be the only place that particular voice exists.

Post Script: This blog is posted a little bit later than usual. I had a long phone conversation tonight with a friend of over thirty years that I consider more as family. We are separated only by the miles. Do I need to tell you how good it was to hear her voice?

Pinching Pennies

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I never knew my maternal grandmother. She died so young that my mother didn’t know her either. The fortunate part is that her fraternal twin sister was very much a part of our lives. She filled the role of grandmother and I always heard that I was very much like her. My great aunt Caroline never saw a sale she didn’t like. I am very much the same way. My mantra could be: Never pay full price when there is a discount to be had.

I have always fallen on the frugal side of the fence. Those who have been following my blog might be aware that my adult life has presented me with various financial challenges. I have had to start over a few times in the past. My divorce came later in life. There have been those who have said if they were in a similar situation maybe they would have stayed in the marriage. It would be considered a tradeoff that they were willing to make. The financial security that many years of marriage brought was not enough to hold me. There have been sacrifices along the way but I can live with a downgrade of vacations and a lesser amount of eating out. Within a year, I was able to buy a house and I have never missed a payment. My home is not large but it is cozy and I enjoy my life within its walls.

The experience garnered by my divorce served me well when I experienced the loss of employment, not once but twice. I considered my finances a challenge, not one that discouraged me but rather one that had me rise to meet the occasion. I refinanced the house and lowered my payments. I gave up trash pick-up and make weekend trips to the dump. I no longer have cable but I now consider myself the queen of YouTube as I find a wealth of entertainment there. I am a proponent of thrifting. I have never purchased a new car, only preowned. Give me a coupon and a discount and I can do wonders with the clearance rack at Kohl’s. I shop at a discount grocery store and additionally make use of a program at a local food chain. As food gets close to its expiration date, it is listed online for half price. If I don’t have plans for the meat it goes into the freezer so the benefit of that deep discount is not lost.

I am not the least bit embarrassed by these admissions. Those who know me well have bolstered my confidence by their comments over the years. One reflected on the fact that I am able to show creativity in finding ways to adjust my budget. She has observed times that it looked like I was going to bottom out but I am always able to bounce back and find a way to stretch the money a little bit further. Another friend once commented that I made being poor look easy. Many times throughout my professional life I might not have had a high income but I have never considered myself poor. I have never known hunger and my figure shows it! I have always had a safe and comfortable place to live and never worried about not having a roof over my head. I am proud to share that I hold an excellent credit rating. I have a special needs cat who has her necessary treatment at the vets each month. Necessity has always been met. This lifetime of frugality has prepared me well for this new lifestyle, that of retirement.

I have never been a bells and whistles kind of person and it is deeply ingrained. I recall my mother saying there were times I was difficult to buy for, not because I was picky but I never seemed to ask for anything in particular. My lifestyle is not for everyone but I am grateful for the things it has wrought. I know as a parent that I must have lead by example as I am extremely proud of the way my son handles his finances with such responsibility. I have learned to be gracious as my friends and family have extended generosity in many ways. I wake up each and every day with sincere thankfulness. I have been blessed with such abundance. It might not always manifest in a material way but what I have received over my lifetime leaves me with a feeling of gratitude and contentment beyond description.