Tag Archives: Self improvement

See You, Hubbell

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Lately I have noticed that entertainers that I grew up watching and listening to, are making their transition. Their names catch my attention and depending on my attachment I usually let out a slight gasp or sigh. The level of my connection usually matches the level of my vocalization, never anything loud or close to a shriek. I can’t think of anyone, outside my family and friends, whose death would truly impact me. That being said, when we lose entertainers in the future, the like of Alan Alda or Elton John, I will bemoan the loss of their talented offerings. I will remember the years of enjoyment they gave me. That is much of what I felt with the recent loss of Robert Redford. Although he was up in years, he like the others, appeared immortal to me.

I mentioned in a previous blog that I recently joined with my former classmates for a reunion. It was a landmark occasion and it has been decades since we gathered to accept our diplomas and embarked upon our adult adventures. We shared stories and laughter over the weekend. I was surprised that Robert Redford was highlighted in a few of these stories. I’m not proud but will admit we would regularly sneak into the drive in theater. We would maneuver through a farmer’s field, adjacent to the theater’s lot. I can remember going that route to see The Way We Were more times than I could count. It was worth it to see Robert Redford on the big screen. The farmer became wise to our bad habit and one night he sprang up out of his crops and pointed a rifle at us. I was just happy it came after the run of The Way We Were was complete.

That was not the only exposure we had to Robert Redford. In our senior year we traveled to New York City for a conference. Although our school won an award, none of us were present to accept it. We were making merry in the Big Apple. One of the most outstanding memories was the night we crashed the premier of the Great Waldo Pepper. What possessed us as unruly teenagers to walk into a New York theater as a premier showing was letting out, is beyond me. It net us quite the reward for being so brash. We found ourselves up close and personal with Robert Redford, Paul Newman and John Denver. Seared into my memory is how Redford flashed that famous and charming smile. So much time has passed that all three of the celebrities are now gone yet at the time of our reunion we would still have Redford for three more days.

I offer this as a remembrance of a talented individual and how I had the good fortune to have a brief experience when my life intersected with his. He doesn’t need my accolades yet in his lifetime he realized he was in a position to make contributions to aid others. Redford initiated the Sundance Film Festival to give those lesser-known film artisans an opportunity to explore and highlight their talent. Why not follow his lead? Maybe we can offer brightness and optimism to others not by Sundance but by Dancing in the Sun. It can be our way of lifting others by acknowledging them and offering praise. It won’t cost us a thing other than taking the time to share a positive thought. It would be a wonderful habit to establish. There will be no awards and no one will look at us and say we remind them of Robert Redford. Wouldn’t it be wonderful though, at the end of our lives, we could smile and say that was The Way We Were?

Iron Man and Rusty Tears

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Those who have been fans of Ozzy Osbourne might recognize the title of a Black Sabbath song and make the assumption that this blog is a tribute. That could easily be a misconception as I was never a fan of Ozzy’s. Heavy metal, head bangers and biting bats never had a place in my life. As a teenager, behind my bedroom door, my orange stereo with the polka dot speakers would play a more mellow genre of music. I think my brothers might have thought about planning an intervention to lessen the grip of Elton John and have me give equal time to some of my other favorites. Without admitting it, my brothers’ constant guitar riffs might have been a way to drown out my selections. Again, Ozzy was never found among my choice of James Taylor, Carole King and the harmony of America. So now, upon his death, why do I find myself crying?

The media has been inundated with Ozzy’s life story. Unless you have been living under a rock, there has been no way to miss the good, the bad and the ugly. He has led a life of extremes. He is not the only one who has fallen down as a result of addiction and infidelity. His language was salty enough to make a sailor blush. Yet when others have walked these paths, they are not the fodder of major news stories. Ozzy’s mistakes were made on the world stage and the admissions he made were just as large. What I missed by avoiding his music and reality show was the man behind the entertainer. It turns out the Prince of Darkness was actually a generous and loving family man. He especially relished time spent with his children and grandchildren. Is the Osbourne family unique? In many ways, yes. Who among us find cameras following our every movement? I am certain there is no one in my circle who boasts the same balance in their bank accounts. Yet, even as a proverbial rock star, he appears to have been very human.

I have been wondering why I, so new to all this information, have had such a strong reaction to his death. I sobbed as I watched the family make their way to Black Sabbath Bridge. Their pain and loss was so clearly evident in their countenance that I believe anyone would be hard pressed not to be moved. Seeing this video repeated several times over brought the same reaction. I had an overwhelming feeling that my tears had been stashed away, lying in wait for the appropriate time.

Tears bring us into this world. A mother excitedly waits to hear that first cry. Childhood tears can be the result of skinned knees. Those that might make themselves present during the teen years can express hurt feelings from not being accepted by a certain social group or maybe a fleeting first love. Adult tears may be produced from an entirely profound depth. The tears I found coming so easily to the surface due to Ozzy’s death were unexpected but still profound. It’s as if they were rusty, returning to the surface deep from the well. There are those, like Ozzy, who leave something tangible behind for the world. That is countered by the reality that fame and money can’t buy you health or a longer life. Then there are the rest of us who were also given the precious gift of life, whose lives might not be as grand but are every much as important. Life is fleeting and there comes a time when do-overs become rare. If I have learned anything from Ozzy’s transition is the importance of doing what you love. Now is the time. With this knowledge I will wipe my tears and instead give a salute to Ozzy and be a Dreamer going through Changes.

Three Little Words

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I bet you think you know where this blog is going. What usually comes to mind when “three little words” are mentioned? Yes, telling someone you love them is important on so many levels. We should never take for granted that our loved ones know how we feel. Whether it be your significant other, your family or close friends, one should never hesitate to share your feelings. It makes one’s heart feel good to speak it and oh so wonderful to be on the receiving end. I am extremely fortunate that those in my close circle say those three little words often and with meaning.

Now, I will tell you about three other simple little words that can carry empathy and healing. Those you share them with don’t have to be in your intimate circle. That is the beauty it carries with it. To tell someone “I hear you” is the most compassionate and caring response. No judgement, no rehearsed comments, nothing but a sincere acknowledgement to let them know they were heard. Often it takes courage to speak up and share something that is laying heavy on your heart. There might not be a solution and often you are not seeking advice but hoping that your words are received and truly heard to help lighten the load.

Recently I learned that someone I had known decades ago was faced with a life changing challenge. He lives far from where we were as teenagers and without him reaching out, his current situation would be unknown. He didn’t share this information right away and it took courage to finally decide to reach out. I was devastated to hear his news and I knew there was nothing I could say that would change his circumstances but I did let him know that I heard him. It may be best to say I heard what he didn’t say: the frustration and disappointment that was clearly evident and very much understood. When he, in turn replied, said he appreciated being heard.

I have a chronic health condition that is not physically obvious. Those close to me know but many who don’t think I am the picture of health. I have limitations and although I have learned to live with them, I would rather not have to be faced with any of it. I have mentioned my own health but there are so many other obstacles in life that encumber us. If there were ways to cast the problems off we would do it, but in reality, many of them linger. If we carry them for long periods of time they can begin to fester and it only adds to the burden. Sharing them in the hope that someone hears more than your words is like offering a little prayer. Please help me navigate to the other side of this. You don’t have to solve the problem, but accompany me along the way. Hearing, using both your ears and your heart, is the greatest of gifts.

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.

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.

Bull

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When our career Navy father was traveling the world, he did so with an 8mm camera. Upon his return, all those glimpses into faraway places would be captured on reels and then spliced into one long travelogue. Although it was the latest technology for the time, there was no sound. Every so often we would gather as a family in what we called our TV room and our father would set up the projector, close the curtains and we would explore the world through his eyes. His narration would cover the foreign locations and traditions. We learned the difference between Asian and African elephants, saw how Geishas looked with their makeup and costumes and experienced the excitement of bull fights. I remember how the matadors were dressed in brightly colored outfits. I can recall the stadium being full with cheering crowds yet we heard nothing. I don’t know if my conscience was developed enough at the time to become upset by the treatment of the bulls. Those mighty animals were aggravated for sport and at this point in time I don’t see the entertainment value in the activity.

In reality, I was aware of the strength and power that bulls possessed. I didn’t grow up on a farm but I had friends who did. I recall one afternoon two of us found ourselves in a barnyard with the resident bull. We took our plight seriously. I remember inching toward the fence in a painfully slow manner as not to trigger the bull. We made our way out safely but obviously the memory remained. The reality was frightening and it was a far cry from watching the humorous cartoons featuring Ferdinand the Bull.

All these memories came to me as I recently made an observation. Those of you who follow me know that I live in a rural area. I am comfortable living among crops and livestock. Recently I noticed a bull had taken up residence in a nearby pasture. What I found so unusual was that, although there was plenty of acreage available to him, he chose to stand at the corner of the field which runs alongside the road. He appears to remain there for extended periods of time. It has become the norm to ride by and see him stoically standing there with little evidence of movement. I questioned the strength of the fencing if he would become agitated by something on the other side from where he was confined. I also question why this creature, the epitome of strength, has a title that is likened to lies or untruths or anything negative that falls under the category of bull.

I have often read articles admonishing people who apply human emotions to animals. Those of us who live with domesticated pets often fall into that habit. We can’t read a pet’s mind but their reaction to events and activities do give us a clue to their mood.  There is no argument that they all possess different personalities. Yet they have no cause to defend or be offended by the random descriptions that are added to their name. If we attached human feelings to the animal world would they be upset by the fearful being called a “scaredy cat” or a “chicken”, an unbearable hot day considered a “dog day’ or something bordering on the side of falsehood labeled as “bull”?

The majority of us find it easy to care for animals as they have no voice and are reliant on us to meet their needs. The affection our pets return show us the purest form of unconditional love. I tend to believe that even livestock would choose not to bite the hand that feeds them. Animals don’t possess the ability to spread lies or slander and it is easy to have a soft spot in our heart for them. So much misinformation is perpetuated these days that I find I am offended on behalf of the bulls. The production of manure is a necessary commodity for fertilization but I have yet to see any reason to spread bull.

Full

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I count myself a very fortunate individual. I can be inspired easily by mundane surroundings. Observations that are truly unique may seem rather comical. If I tell you that seeing a septic truck brought creative thoughts to mind, you might think I have a need to talk to a professional. I think not and I will share why I feel that is the case, at least this particular time.

First, let’s discuss what a septic tank is and what service it provides. Then I will touch base on the importance of septic trucks. A simple search on Google will tell you that a septic tank is an underground chamber made of concrete, fiberglass, or plastic through which domestic wastewater (sewage) flows for basic sewage treatment. That is a rather delicate way to describe how to keep up with human waste. Those who live in a more populated or metropolitan area will rely on a sewer system which carries the waste off through underground pipes that transport it to a treatment plant. I understand if you think this topic may be bizarre but I promise you, there is a point to this blog.

I grew up in a household where we did make use of a septic tank. We were a family of seven, three adults and 4 children. That would equate to a lot of water usage and disposal. My father would try to combat some of that collection by having our washing machine drain outside through a hose. That way all the used water would not unnecessarily fill the septic tank and there were no concerns about it being a biohazard. You can imagine the amount of laundry that our family generated. It was a world of woe when the tank would reach its limit and a call was made to bring in a septic truck. I don’t recall what would trigger that request and it is probably just as well that I don’t remember. I do know it was a big deal when it happened. The truck would come and the driver would access the underground tank and pump out its contents. I don’t know what leads someone to choose that as a career but it remains an essential service.

Now let’s get back to my original premise, that inspiration can be found everywhere.  Whether it be a sewer or a septic tank, everyone needs something to rid one’s life of collected waste. The human condition insists that it exists. I’m asking you to use your imagination and not refer to bodily waste but rather negative thoughts, unkindness, nastiness or anything that could be considered within the realm of hatred. We don’t need to maintain it as part of our life and it is so much more beneficial if we rid ourselves of it and make room for the good. Life has so much goodness to offer. There are glorious experiences, relationships and positivity that exists. Just because this unpleasantness lay dormant below the ground, or under the skin, it not recommended that it be allowed to stay and fester. It is much healthier to wash it out of your system and purge yourself of it. Life is much too short to expend energy by lugging that heaviness around with you. Burdens find it hard to exist within the lightness. One more observation comes to mind. Be watchful and don’t let your tank ever get close to overflowing. Keep your thoughts and actions in check so the septic truck doesn’t need to make a house call. No one wants to be full of it!

Happy New Ice Cream

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Now that we are well ensconced in 2024, I have a confession to make.  I have never been one to get excited about celebrating the New Year. My contention is that if you had no calendar or clock, there would be no way to tell one year from the next. I know that sounds cynical and nonsensical. I don’t feel that way about other holidays. It could be because their focus is not specifically based on time. Maybe I didn’t always feel this way but long gone is my childhood tradition of watching Guy Lombardo ring the New Year in on television. If that doesn’t make sense to you, I suggest you google it. No, I am one who stays home, safe and warm, as another year rolls in and the last becomes history. Even though I don’t have the desire to celebrate, I find I must witness the change. It feels like my civic duty to oversee the event.

As in all aspects of life, attitude plays its part in how we view things. Watching the ball drop on television, or any other media, gives you the impression that it is so large that it must light up all of Times Square. I have actually seen the ball, in place prior to the New Year celebration, and it didn’t look huge. It actually looked dwarfed by its position on the building. This year I had the feeling that the performer wasn’t finished singing as the descent of the ball began. I might be the only one who was annoyed by what appeared to be an example of poor time management. I don’t feel that is the optimum way to start a new year, especially when the focus is upon the last minutes of the outgoing year.

I have a solution for myself and anyone else who might feel the need to make this holiday a bit more palatable. Let’s make the New Year ice cream and proceed that way. Incorporating sweaters and blankets might be needed rather than hats and noisemakers but I think we can meet everyone’s expectations. I fear there could be a select population that might not be fans of the idea. I personally hope my suggestion doesn’t alienate anyone.

I have heard, how you spend New Year’s Eve, is an indication of what to anticipate for the following 365 days. There are decisions to be made. How do you want your ice cream? Are you going to play it safe and have it served in a cup or are you going to incorporate a little bit of risk into your choice? If you go with a cone you not only get the ice cream but the additional treat of the cone. Are you courageous enough to take the chance? Yes, it could get messy, just like life, but there are napkins along with soap and water to help correct the situation. Another thought, as you prepare to celebrate Happy New Ice Cream, give some consideration to the flavor you select. Are you going to choose your favorite flavor or try something new? Your tried and true favorite might be a safe way to go and you will know what to expect. If you consider stepping outside your comfort zone and try another flavor, it might bring your taste buds excitement and sheer happiness. You never know unless you try. The decision of how you want your ice cream is entirely yours.

I doubt my suggestion will take the country by storm. Even though you won’t find me at a party reveling, I do believe that the New Year offers us all a fresh start. Resolutions aren’t required but meeting each day with anticipation and purpose will make it more appetizing. My wish for you would be the ability to look back and see that you not only had a delicious year but you might realize it was topped with sprinkles, or better yet, with whipped cream and a cherry. Now, you must excuse me. For some reason I feel the need to go to Dairy Queen.

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“There are hundred of paths up the mountain, all leading to the same place, so it doesn’t matter which path you take. The only person wasting time is the one who runs around the mountain, telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.”

Hindu proverb

Connections

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It was not hard to decide to attend Ruth’s Celebration of Life. Although I was 2 ½ weeks beyond my surgery I felt I would be mobile enough with the help of my friend. I wanted to be there for several reasons. Ruth had been my Girl Scout leader. At a time when young girls were exploring who they were and what they might aspire to, it was important to have someone step up and guide that process. I also had the good fortune to know her after I had become an adult. Although it was a given that she was a loving and selfless mother and grandmother, she was also known for her involvement with her community and faith life. Her daughter was a long time classmate of mine. We were not close growing up yet I feel we have created a bond through today’s social media. As my mother died over a decade ago I felt I wanted to offer my presence as one who understood the loss.

I didn’t know many people in attendance but there were a few familiar faces. Of those, I didn’t know what connection might have been forged between Ruth and them. I could have asked as I feel I possess enough social graces to inquire without being offensive. I decided not to and allowed conversation to go elsewhere. I found that after the day, I continued to question the connections life offers us. How are these relationships formed? Do they come to us randomly? Granted, Ruth was fortunate to be blessed with a long life, and there were multiple relationships she must have enjoyed over the years. So very often after someone dies, age will often dictate how many people attend their memorial. It might be a matter of practicality, illness, mobility issues or death itself that might strip someone of their vast social connections. It is comforting to see contemporaries as well as others from different generations come and pay their respects.

I continued to dwell on the thought of how a lifetime of connections would translate to the loss family, friends and community may feel in the passing of one of its members. If someone has the good fortune of living many decades the relationships built and enjoyed could be immeasurable. I am not contemplating the six degrees of Kevin Bacon but the reality of all of us and how our life creates interactions with those on an exponential level. As much of my professional life was spent working within the community I know there are those whose lives I touched, whose names and faces would be unfamiliar to me now. Truthfully, I relish the idea of being of service to someone who remains unknown to me on a personal level. That is the purest form of giving of oneself and I count myself fortunate to have the opportunity to have experienced such a blessing. I also am blessed by the myriad of people whose relationships are personal.

Is there a goal that comes as a result of my contemplation? It might not be what you expect. Do I want standing room only at my memorial? No, but I would like to think that those I leave behind would find comfort and solace in having a shared connection with me being the common denominator. We are inundated with news of climate change and how important it is to leave the smallest carbon footprint possible. On the other hand Chief Seattle was known for saying, “Take only memories, leave only footprints.” I know what goal I choose. I am not concerned about any remaining footprint that I might cast but I would rather bestow a smile and full heart with those I share a connection. I will make an effort to be civil, kind and thoughtful to those whose paths I cross. I hope that I would never hesitate to offer a hand or support when I see the need. I will continue to live my mantra: If I think something nice I share it. Further, I pray that gratitude be at the very core of my being, not just for every breath I am given but also for every connection made along the way.