I find it incomprehensible that no one objected to Senator Scott Brown having posed nude in Cosmopolitan magazine. Granted it was in 1982 and can be considered a youthful indiscretion, but can you imagine the uproar it would cause if it were discovered that Nancy Pelosi had posed in the nude? Or Hilary Clinton? Or any female member of the Congress? It boggles the imagination!
We have become so inured of misbehavior among our elected representatives that we seem to have grown tolerant of it. That is, if it is MALE misbehavior! Women have not yet achieved equal status with men. Oh, we can misbehave, but not if it involves sexual impropriety. Fiscal impropriety, yes, but sexual, no.
Some women can and do commit sexual improprieties. But it is not acceptable to be found out, unless of course, you’re a movie star. Men seem to enjoy a greater impunity, unless the misbehavior is outrageous. I rather suspect that other men secretly relish the sexual exploits of wayward men.
I am not advocating that women should behave the way that many men do and doubtless will continue to do. I am simply advocating that we all be honest about recognizing that a new kind of double standard exists. Some behaviors are allowed for men but not for women. I would advocate that men and women behave with some dignity and set a better example for our children.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Women Over 50
“As I grow in age, I value women over 50 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:A woman over 50 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, 'What are you thinking?' She doesn't care what you think.
If a woman over 50 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting.
Women over 50 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.
Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.
Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 50.
Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 50 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.Older women are forthright and honest.. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk or if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over 50 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 50, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.
For all those men who say, 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?’ Here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage!”
Andy Rooney is a really smart guy! An email I recently received that I really like!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Uncluttering
As a very young bride I remember meeting my husband’s aunt for the first time. I was greatly admiring her home, which was filled with treasures, reflecting her impeccable taste. Her sage advice, which I did not understand at the time was, “You spend the first half of your life collecting things, and the second half trying to get rid of them.”
I grew older and remember my Mother, in her later years, wanting to get rid of things. They were lovely things and I couldn’t understand my Mother’s seeming obsession to be free of them. Now, at age 76, I understand. I have become my mother! I frequently lament to my friends that I wish I knew how to get rid of the things that I once held dear.
One of the tasks of growing older is getting rid of things. We accumulate a lot of clutter as the year’s progress. What seemed precious and invaluable at age 30 begins to lose its luster at age 40. We become aware of the important things of life and begin to desire simplicity. The things that used to make us happy, no longer make us happy, and eventually begin to limit our freedom. I don’t know why this phenomenon happens; only that it happens. Perhaps we try to immortalize our memories, but in so doing, there is less room to make more.
In some respects it seems that it would be liberating to be rid of so much stuff, but in others, it feels like throwing your life away! How can we part with things we have valued in the past? Objects of no intrinsic value perhaps, but they take on meaning because we give them meaning. Am I withdrawing from engagement with others? Or am I longing to free my spirit to enjoy whatever the future may bring?
I long to live in a sparse, pristine home with only a few of my books, my music, my scrap booking materials, my computer and all the paperwork that it generates, my camera and the thousands of photos I’ve taken of the family, and the many projects I had planned to accomplish sometime in the future…………….I guess I’ll start with carrying out the trash…
I grew older and remember my Mother, in her later years, wanting to get rid of things. They were lovely things and I couldn’t understand my Mother’s seeming obsession to be free of them. Now, at age 76, I understand. I have become my mother! I frequently lament to my friends that I wish I knew how to get rid of the things that I once held dear.
One of the tasks of growing older is getting rid of things. We accumulate a lot of clutter as the year’s progress. What seemed precious and invaluable at age 30 begins to lose its luster at age 40. We become aware of the important things of life and begin to desire simplicity. The things that used to make us happy, no longer make us happy, and eventually begin to limit our freedom. I don’t know why this phenomenon happens; only that it happens. Perhaps we try to immortalize our memories, but in so doing, there is less room to make more.
In some respects it seems that it would be liberating to be rid of so much stuff, but in others, it feels like throwing your life away! How can we part with things we have valued in the past? Objects of no intrinsic value perhaps, but they take on meaning because we give them meaning. Am I withdrawing from engagement with others? Or am I longing to free my spirit to enjoy whatever the future may bring?
I long to live in a sparse, pristine home with only a few of my books, my music, my scrap booking materials, my computer and all the paperwork that it generates, my camera and the thousands of photos I’ve taken of the family, and the many projects I had planned to accomplish sometime in the future…………….I guess I’ll start with carrying out the trash…
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Epiphany
(The following blog was written today about an event that occurred yesterday.)
Yesterday I took my friend to lunch and the movies, my Christmas gift to her. We are both at the age when you try to get rid of all the things that clutter your life. So, giving an experience that can be enjoyed by both is the gift of choice! After lunch we browsed in Borders until it was time for the movie. We are both avid readers and can pleasantly pass the time in a bookstore. As is usual I wandered to the back of the bookstore to the “Religion” section. After a few moments my friend joined me. I happened to be standing in front of the Judaic section. My friend caught my attention by remarking, “You should convert.” It startled me! I have been an Episcopalian for 55 years and even considered ordination. A process in which many people supported me, several of whom were priests.
I had begun studying Judaism when my daughter converted 18 years ago before her marriage. I was ignorant of all things Jewish but realized after the initial shock that I would have to learn about it, if I wanted to have a close relationship with her and any grandchildren that might be born. I eventually received a Certificate of Study in Jewish-Christian Relations and have undergone a great transformation in my beliefs. Learning my “family” history has given me
invaluable lessons and has enriched my faith.
I can’t say that I have never thought about conversion. I have. I guess I was startled because it shows! But I have concluded that I am a Christian, by choice. An Episcopalian, by choice. An Episcopalian who loves and respects the Jewish faith. I am active in interfaith groups and I think that it is now time for me to explore the Muslim faith, about which I am totally ignorant.
I had begun studying Judaism when my daughter converted 18 years ago before her marriage. I was ignorant of all things Jewish but realized after the initial shock that I would have to learn about it, if I wanted to have a close relationship with her and any grandchildren that might be born. I eventually received a Certificate of Study in Jewish-Christian Relations and have undergone a great transformation in my beliefs. Learning my “family” history has given me
invaluable lessons and has enriched my faith.
I can’t say that I have never thought about conversion. I have. I guess I was startled because it shows! But I have concluded that I am a Christian, by choice. An Episcopalian, by choice. An Episcopalian who loves and respects the Jewish faith. I am active in interfaith groups and I think that it is now time for me to explore the Muslim faith, about which I am totally ignorant.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
New Year's Resolutions
It is the third day of the New Year. 2010. Significant because I have not yet made a list of resolutions. Several people have remarked on Facebook that they are not making any. As if there is no reason to do so. I think it is a tradition that we would benefit from reviving. Taking an honest look at oneself and determining how we could improve ourself. January is named after the Roman God Janus, who had two faces, one facing forward and one facing backwards.
“In Roman mythology, Janus (or Ianus; "archway") was the god of gates, doors, doorways, beginnings and endings. His most prominent remnant in modern culture is his namesake, the month of January, which begins the new year. He is most often depicted as having two faces or heads, facing in opposite directions.” (Wikipedia)
I was browsing one of my favorite sites this morning, Aish, a Jewish site and came across a thought-provoking video called “Questions From God.” I have adapted it and offer it as my resolutions.
Make an effort to improve communication with my family members and to tell them I love them.
Increase the amount of time I set aside for spiritual growth.
Do something to decrease the suffering of the world.
Search for the answers to my many questions.
Practice an “attitude of gratitude” for my many blessings.
Look for the beauty in others.
Six goals for twelve months.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
A National Diagnosis
Is there such a thing as a collective diagnosis? Rather than individuals having symptoms of a disease, could a country manifest those symptoms? As an older woman, living in a sex obsessed culture, I am growing weary of seeing women clad in bikini panties and bras designed to promote one’s décolleté. One advertisement promotes the sale of bikini panties and a bra by three women clad in only bikini panties and a low cut bra boldly walking across the screen, and it can be seen at any time of day.
I am tired of seeing women in low cut dresses barely designed to cover their breasts or derrieres when sitting. I am tired of soap operas whose “stars” bounce in and out of beds with abandon.
We are a society with few restraints. Where are the mothers who explain that certain behaviors and modes of dress are inappropriate? Or perhaps they still do but are drowned out by our sex-obsessed culture. Where are the social norms that establish standards of behavior? Are there arbiters of taste anymore? Or does anything go as long as it is SEXY?
I was, and am, a feminist. Desiring equality of men and women. But I never understood feminism as being a movement to establish the sameness of men and women. Men and women are not the same. I thought that the women’s movement would bring about equal pay for equal work and equal opportunity. I did not foresee that it would lead to everyone at every age trying to look “sexy” and young!
There has not been an equivalent response from men. It is not men, as a general rule, who flagrantly flaunt their bodies. Why should they? Their fantasies are being fulfilled daily, by feminine nudity on television, the movies, magazines and the Internet
When will more women seek to break down barriers and achieve goals that have been considered for men only? Surely our minds are as important as our bodies!
I am tired of seeing women in low cut dresses barely designed to cover their breasts or derrieres when sitting. I am tired of soap operas whose “stars” bounce in and out of beds with abandon.
We are a society with few restraints. Where are the mothers who explain that certain behaviors and modes of dress are inappropriate? Or perhaps they still do but are drowned out by our sex-obsessed culture. Where are the social norms that establish standards of behavior? Are there arbiters of taste anymore? Or does anything go as long as it is SEXY?
I was, and am, a feminist. Desiring equality of men and women. But I never understood feminism as being a movement to establish the sameness of men and women. Men and women are not the same. I thought that the women’s movement would bring about equal pay for equal work and equal opportunity. I did not foresee that it would lead to everyone at every age trying to look “sexy” and young!
There has not been an equivalent response from men. It is not men, as a general rule, who flagrantly flaunt their bodies. Why should they? Their fantasies are being fulfilled daily, by feminine nudity on television, the movies, magazines and the Internet
When will more women seek to break down barriers and achieve goals that have been considered for men only? Surely our minds are as important as our bodies!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Memorial Day
Thank you to all those who have served in the US Military, and to their loved ones. The spouses and their children, the parents, the brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and friends and to all those who have contributed to the well-being of those who dedicate their lives to protect and defend ours. They also serve and stand ready to sacrifice. The ultimate sacrifice is death but there are many other sacrifices. Those who must suffer debilitating losses due to injuries sustained in battle. Or those who must suffer the loss of marriages and children due to the stresses of deployment. Or the myriad of stresses of those spouses trying to communicate with a loved one so their long absence is not so disruptive to their lives.
The service person joins the military. So do all of those who love the person. They form a mostly invisible group--not seen too often, nor heard from very often. It is to all these people that I wish to express my thanks. Thank you for your courage and devotion to duty.
The service person joins the military. So do all of those who love the person. They form a mostly invisible group--not seen too often, nor heard from very often. It is to all these people that I wish to express my thanks. Thank you for your courage and devotion to duty.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Never Too Old!
I have always loved dancing and wanted to be a ballerina when I grew up. However it was not destined to be because of health issues. I grew up instead to be a balletomane and an ardent lover of all kinds of dancing.
This morning, the New York Times announced a new blog called "LENS," a visual blog of photographs, videos, and slide shows. Being an amateur photographer, I was delighted. Amateur originally meant "one who loves" and I love to take pictures! The blog for May 17, 2009 was "From the Archive: Steppping Out, Gingerly." It was about a dance troupe called "Steppers" who perform ballet, modern dance, tap and African dance for anyone who are willing to pay for their transportation! They are 20 women, age 59 to 87, who nearly all have a handicap but try to help other people feel good. They were founded by Lois and Frank Smith at the Citizens Care Senior Center in Harlem in 1990.
Bravo! I so admire your attitude and spirit. You know how to grow old with grace and charm making the most of what you have. Bravo!
This morning, the New York Times announced a new blog called "LENS," a visual blog of photographs, videos, and slide shows. Being an amateur photographer, I was delighted. Amateur originally meant "one who loves" and I love to take pictures! The blog for May 17, 2009 was "From the Archive: Steppping Out, Gingerly." It was about a dance troupe called "Steppers" who perform ballet, modern dance, tap and African dance for anyone who are willing to pay for their transportation! They are 20 women, age 59 to 87, who nearly all have a handicap but try to help other people feel good. They were founded by Lois and Frank Smith at the Citizens Care Senior Center in Harlem in 1990.
Bravo! I so admire your attitude and spirit. You know how to grow old with grace and charm making the most of what you have. Bravo!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Star Wars
Luke 3:1-14. Bear fruits worthy of repentance.
"Easter is incarnational. We are to be the life of Christ risen today. Star Wars creator George Lucas spoke at the 2005 Star Wars convention in Indianapolis. On a whim, I went on a wintry weekday expecting to get right in. The line of excited fans stretched six blocks. One couple had driven all night from New York. Many were in full costume. They were caught up in a different, compelling world. Not content merely to see a movie, they wanted to make that vision come alive.
We are like that. God's Easter vision of our world and us risen as a new creation is something we are to live. Incarnating Easter into our daily lives, we are invited to create not an imaginary, parallel universe, but a very real, God-filled world.
If we were as excited about our salvation as fans are about Star Wars, what a force we would be: repudiating violence with peacemaking, vanquishing retribution through reconciliation, conquering hatred with love.
God's salvific, new world is here. We are to live it and make it our own-even as Christ has made us his own. Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Incarnate Easter today. "
From Forward Movement Day by Day
Of course, if you added up the numbers of Christians in the world, Star Wars fans would fade into insignificance. There are more Christians than any other religious group. That isn’t the problem. But the author’s point is well taken. If we could only engender the enthusiasm that some groups show, a sense of immediacy, a sense of urgency, a feeling that what we do makes a difference. In our own lives but to the world as well. We fail to realize that our actions have an impact on the world and that what we do, or don’t do, makes an impact.
Nearly all the major religions have some version of "the golden rule." Do unto others what you would have them do unto to you. A "Declaration Toward a Global Ethic" was signed by 143 leaders from different faith traditions at the Parliament of the World's Religions held in 1993. From the Baha'i Faith "Ascribe not to any soul that which thou wouldst not have ascribed to thee, and say not that which thou doest not" to Confucius "Never impose on others what you would not chhose for yourself" to Muhammad "That which you want for yourself, seek for mankind" to Judaism "That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow (The Sage Hillel) to the most recent scientific research that "the Golden Rule may be stated and rooted in terms of neuroscientific and neuroethical principle." (Above can be found on Wikipedia under the Ethic of Reciprocity.)
We often feel insignificant. And as groups of people we feel insignificant. But as some people have come to realize we are all connected and what we do or don't do makes a difference. What we do collectively makes an enormous impact on our environment. So let us make a concerted effort to be conscious and live our lives accordingly.
"Easter is incarnational. We are to be the life of Christ risen today. Star Wars creator George Lucas spoke at the 2005 Star Wars convention in Indianapolis. On a whim, I went on a wintry weekday expecting to get right in. The line of excited fans stretched six blocks. One couple had driven all night from New York. Many were in full costume. They were caught up in a different, compelling world. Not content merely to see a movie, they wanted to make that vision come alive.
We are like that. God's Easter vision of our world and us risen as a new creation is something we are to live. Incarnating Easter into our daily lives, we are invited to create not an imaginary, parallel universe, but a very real, God-filled world.
If we were as excited about our salvation as fans are about Star Wars, what a force we would be: repudiating violence with peacemaking, vanquishing retribution through reconciliation, conquering hatred with love.
God's salvific, new world is here. We are to live it and make it our own-even as Christ has made us his own. Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Incarnate Easter today. "
From Forward Movement Day by Day
Of course, if you added up the numbers of Christians in the world, Star Wars fans would fade into insignificance. There are more Christians than any other religious group. That isn’t the problem. But the author’s point is well taken. If we could only engender the enthusiasm that some groups show, a sense of immediacy, a sense of urgency, a feeling that what we do makes a difference. In our own lives but to the world as well. We fail to realize that our actions have an impact on the world and that what we do, or don’t do, makes an impact.
Nearly all the major religions have some version of "the golden rule." Do unto others what you would have them do unto to you. A "Declaration Toward a Global Ethic" was signed by 143 leaders from different faith traditions at the Parliament of the World's Religions held in 1993. From the Baha'i Faith "Ascribe not to any soul that which thou wouldst not have ascribed to thee, and say not that which thou doest not" to Confucius "Never impose on others what you would not chhose for yourself" to Muhammad "That which you want for yourself, seek for mankind" to Judaism "That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow (The Sage Hillel) to the most recent scientific research that "the Golden Rule may be stated and rooted in terms of neuroscientific and neuroethical principle." (Above can be found on Wikipedia under the Ethic of Reciprocity.)
We often feel insignificant. And as groups of people we feel insignificant. But as some people have come to realize we are all connected and what we do or don't do makes a difference. What we do collectively makes an enormous impact on our environment. So let us make a concerted effort to be conscious and live our lives accordingly.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
How to be a Good Wife
An excerpt from a 1950's High School Home Economics textbook:
Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal--on time. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.
Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so that you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair, and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day might need a lift too.
Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and face. If they are small, comb their hair, and if necessary change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.
Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer, dishwasher, or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. Be happy to see him, greet him with a mile and be glad to see him.
Some don'ts. Don't greet him with problems or complaints. Don't complain if he's late for dinner. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day. Make him comfortable. Have him sit back in a comfortable chair or suggest he like down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soft, soothing and pleasant voice. Allow him to relax and unwind.
Listen to him. You may have a dozen things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first.
Make the evening his. Never complain if he does not take you out to dinner or to other places of entertainment. Instead try to understand his world of strain and pressures, his need to be home and relax.
THE GOAL: Try to make your home a place of peace and order where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.
_________________________________________________________
I was a senior in high school in 1951. I may have read the above text. If I had I would have thought it was very good. As I read it now, I don't know whether to laugh or to cry! It seems incredible that we believed such drivel. And allowed it to be taught in our schools. Now, almost 60 years later, I cannot imagine that I could ever be so naive!
I was married in 1954, dropping out of my senior year in college because my husband was a lieutenant in the Army and was moving to Ft. Lewis, Washington. I was in my senior year at Oklahoma University and I wanted to be with him. It seemed reasonable and even my parents, who very much wanted their only child to have an education, agreed. We went to Ft. Lewis and I tried to be a good wife--a good Army wife.
I tried. I really tried. I tried to meet all the unreasonable expectations. But, after four children, the vacuum cleaner seemed to be left in the middle of the dining room or wherever I was interrupted. The washer, dryer, and dishwasher (when we could afford to buy them) seemed to run at all times. I don't think I ever suggested that he lie down or arranged his pillow or offered to take his shoes off. I was usually somewhat frazzled by the time he arrived. I was not good at some things but very good at others. I was a very good cook and a very gracious hostess and, I hope, a good Mother. I just never seemed to conquer the clutter!
I could write a treatise in response to this textbook but not on this blog! Suffice it to say that Betty Friedan's book "The Feminine Mystique" was published and slowly things began to change. I became a feminist and went back to school, earning my degree and a Master's degree twenty years later. I marched in the demonstration in Washington, D.C. for passage of the Equal Right's Amendment.
I have come a long way. A very long way. I am amazed at how much has changed. The many opportunities that women have today.
"The battle for women's rights has been largely won." Margaret Thatcher
Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal--on time. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.
Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so that you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair, and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day might need a lift too.
Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and face. If they are small, comb their hair, and if necessary change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.
Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer, dishwasher, or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. Be happy to see him, greet him with a mile and be glad to see him.
Some don'ts. Don't greet him with problems or complaints. Don't complain if he's late for dinner. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day. Make him comfortable. Have him sit back in a comfortable chair or suggest he like down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soft, soothing and pleasant voice. Allow him to relax and unwind.
Listen to him. You may have a dozen things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first.
Make the evening his. Never complain if he does not take you out to dinner or to other places of entertainment. Instead try to understand his world of strain and pressures, his need to be home and relax.
THE GOAL: Try to make your home a place of peace and order where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.
_________________________________________________________
I was a senior in high school in 1951. I may have read the above text. If I had I would have thought it was very good. As I read it now, I don't know whether to laugh or to cry! It seems incredible that we believed such drivel. And allowed it to be taught in our schools. Now, almost 60 years later, I cannot imagine that I could ever be so naive!
I was married in 1954, dropping out of my senior year in college because my husband was a lieutenant in the Army and was moving to Ft. Lewis, Washington. I was in my senior year at Oklahoma University and I wanted to be with him. It seemed reasonable and even my parents, who very much wanted their only child to have an education, agreed. We went to Ft. Lewis and I tried to be a good wife--a good Army wife.
I tried. I really tried. I tried to meet all the unreasonable expectations. But, after four children, the vacuum cleaner seemed to be left in the middle of the dining room or wherever I was interrupted. The washer, dryer, and dishwasher (when we could afford to buy them) seemed to run at all times. I don't think I ever suggested that he lie down or arranged his pillow or offered to take his shoes off. I was usually somewhat frazzled by the time he arrived. I was not good at some things but very good at others. I was a very good cook and a very gracious hostess and, I hope, a good Mother. I just never seemed to conquer the clutter!
I could write a treatise in response to this textbook but not on this blog! Suffice it to say that Betty Friedan's book "The Feminine Mystique" was published and slowly things began to change. I became a feminist and went back to school, earning my degree and a Master's degree twenty years later. I marched in the demonstration in Washington, D.C. for passage of the Equal Right's Amendment.
I have come a long way. A very long way. I am amazed at how much has changed. The many opportunities that women have today.
"The battle for women's rights has been largely won." Margaret Thatcher
Thursday, March 12, 2009
As I Grow Old
As I grow old I want to have a face etched with the experiences of my youth, my young adult years, my middle age and the lines of aging. I want my face to reflect all the places I’ve been, all the things I’ve done, all the people I’ve known, all the smiles and tears of a lifetime.
I don’t want to plump my face with botox and erase all the evidence of living. As if I’ve lived in an eternal state of youth, not having known the joys and sorrows of adulthood and the wisdom of age.
I want my hands to reflect the diapers I’ve changed and the cookies I’ve baked and the laundry I’ve done. The hands I’ve held in love and the hands that have reached out to others.
Age is not the end of life, it is the fulfillment of life. And all the signs of aging, some of which are not pleasant, are there to remind me of the life I’ve lived, the people I’ve loved.
I want people to know that I’m 75. I don’t want them to exclaim, “How young you look!” I want them to notice the lines and express that I’m still living my life to the fullest. And I want my history reflected in my face.
Grow old with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in his hand
Who sayeth "a whole I plant,
Youth shows but half;
Trust God; see all nor be afraid."
Robert Browning
I don’t want to plump my face with botox and erase all the evidence of living. As if I’ve lived in an eternal state of youth, not having known the joys and sorrows of adulthood and the wisdom of age.
I want my hands to reflect the diapers I’ve changed and the cookies I’ve baked and the laundry I’ve done. The hands I’ve held in love and the hands that have reached out to others.
Age is not the end of life, it is the fulfillment of life. And all the signs of aging, some of which are not pleasant, are there to remind me of the life I’ve lived, the people I’ve loved.
I want people to know that I’m 75. I don’t want them to exclaim, “How young you look!” I want them to notice the lines and express that I’m still living my life to the fullest. And I want my history reflected in my face.
Grow old with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in his hand
Who sayeth "a whole I plant,
Youth shows but half;
Trust God; see all nor be afraid."
Robert Browning
Monday, March 9, 2009
Reality TV
“I don’t know how many of you watch the ‘reality’ TV shows,” the priest began her sermon yesterday. The theme of the sermon was “God loves you too much to leave you alone,” based on the scriptures for the second Sunday in Lent.
She envisioned Sarah and Abraham, from the first reading, as contestants on a reality show. At 100 (Abraham) and 90 (Sarah) years of age, God promises them the birth of a child and tells them that their offspring will be as numerous as the stars. Sarah laughs at the very thought of enjoying pleasure with Abraham again. God tells them to name the child Isaac. He makes a covenant with them, promising that they will be the grandparents of Kings and multitudes.
This is the passage, one of my personal favorites, which led me to use the name of “Sarah” for this blog. It is about a very old woman who gives birth at a very advanced age. “God loves us too much to leave us alone.” There are many ways of “giving birth.” Nearly all endeavors lead to something new coming forth and being “born.”
The sermon went on to other “contestants” and the phrase, repeated several times, that God loves us too much to leave us alone, evoked many thoughts. The first being laughter and that I wasn’t at all sure that I wanted God to get involved! I just want to be left alone to do my thing, which nowadays includes too much TV time and napping. The last time I felt called by God to do something, led to a great disappointment and being told that I was “too old.” I haven’t yet resolved completely my profound sense of loss. Then a year and a half ago I had a small stroke, reminding me that I was not in control.
I may not ever be called to do anything memorable. Perhaps God is calling me to be the best I can be and to do the best I can do in however many years I have remaining. Perhaps God will continue to nudge me and perhaps I will continue to respond, “Who do you think you’re nudging?” But I suspect that Reverend Karen Ann Campbell is right. God loves me too much to leave me alone.
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16,
Psalm 22:22-30,
Romans 4:13-25
Mark 8:31-38
She envisioned Sarah and Abraham, from the first reading, as contestants on a reality show. At 100 (Abraham) and 90 (Sarah) years of age, God promises them the birth of a child and tells them that their offspring will be as numerous as the stars. Sarah laughs at the very thought of enjoying pleasure with Abraham again. God tells them to name the child Isaac. He makes a covenant with them, promising that they will be the grandparents of Kings and multitudes.
This is the passage, one of my personal favorites, which led me to use the name of “Sarah” for this blog. It is about a very old woman who gives birth at a very advanced age. “God loves us too much to leave us alone.” There are many ways of “giving birth.” Nearly all endeavors lead to something new coming forth and being “born.”
The sermon went on to other “contestants” and the phrase, repeated several times, that God loves us too much to leave us alone, evoked many thoughts. The first being laughter and that I wasn’t at all sure that I wanted God to get involved! I just want to be left alone to do my thing, which nowadays includes too much TV time and napping. The last time I felt called by God to do something, led to a great disappointment and being told that I was “too old.” I haven’t yet resolved completely my profound sense of loss. Then a year and a half ago I had a small stroke, reminding me that I was not in control.
I may not ever be called to do anything memorable. Perhaps God is calling me to be the best I can be and to do the best I can do in however many years I have remaining. Perhaps God will continue to nudge me and perhaps I will continue to respond, “Who do you think you’re nudging?” But I suspect that Reverend Karen Ann Campbell is right. God loves me too much to leave me alone.
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16,
Psalm 22:22-30,
Romans 4:13-25
Mark 8:31-38
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Flashback
Falling away is the expression that Diana Athill, author of "Somewhere Towards The End", uses to describe her experience of growing old. She writes "There is not much on record about falling away. Being well advanced in that process...I say to myself, 'Why not have a go at it?' "
I finished reading the book. I cannot hope to emulate it, her experience is hers and mine is mine, her life history and mine are miles apart, her talent for writing far exceeds mine, but perhaps there is some value in sharing what I discover. So my blog will be my attempt at having "a go at it."
Yesterday I was walking through the aisles of my local grocery store. I was dressed very casually thinking I could get away with it since I was wearing a down coat. However it was warm in the store and I had unzipped it. The sweatshirt I was wearing was partially visible. I stopped to open the freezer door when a man diverted my attention by asking me what my sweatshirt said. I was startled but he was quite old and I had seen him earlier, a couple of aisles over, walking slowly with his wife. My sweatshirt announced the latest ad for the Army. He asked me who had served and I told him "my husband, my son and several grandchildren." He beamed and announced that he had "been in the big one." And I replied, "World War II." I told him that my father had fought in Italy until wounded. He then launched into his war story and I listened until his wife had finished her shopping and wanted to be escorted to the next aisle. He was so anxious to recount his experience and have an opportunity to talk to someone who was familiar with his jargon.
I knew why. My experience of spending fifty years on "active duty" as a dependent is still very much with me. I am still the mother of a son and grandmother to a granddaughter and two grandsons and two grandsons-in-law who are serving or have served. Now, I am separated from the life I once knew and I miss it. I miss it and am drawn to it--even by a sweatshirt.
I finished reading the book. I cannot hope to emulate it, her experience is hers and mine is mine, her life history and mine are miles apart, her talent for writing far exceeds mine, but perhaps there is some value in sharing what I discover. So my blog will be my attempt at having "a go at it."
Yesterday I was walking through the aisles of my local grocery store. I was dressed very casually thinking I could get away with it since I was wearing a down coat. However it was warm in the store and I had unzipped it. The sweatshirt I was wearing was partially visible. I stopped to open the freezer door when a man diverted my attention by asking me what my sweatshirt said. I was startled but he was quite old and I had seen him earlier, a couple of aisles over, walking slowly with his wife. My sweatshirt announced the latest ad for the Army. He asked me who had served and I told him "my husband, my son and several grandchildren." He beamed and announced that he had "been in the big one." And I replied, "World War II." I told him that my father had fought in Italy until wounded. He then launched into his war story and I listened until his wife had finished her shopping and wanted to be escorted to the next aisle. He was so anxious to recount his experience and have an opportunity to talk to someone who was familiar with his jargon.
I knew why. My experience of spending fifty years on "active duty" as a dependent is still very much with me. I am still the mother of a son and grandmother to a granddaughter and two grandsons and two grandsons-in-law who are serving or have served. Now, I am separated from the life I once knew and I miss it. I miss it and am drawn to it--even by a sweatshirt.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Growing Older By Design
Dr. Maya Angelou, former Poet Laureate of the United States, pens a poem honoring the 50th Anniversary of AARPWhen you see me
Sitting quietly like a sack
Left on a shelf
Don't think I need
Your chattering
I'm listening to myself.
At first the seasons arrive
Slowly dragging themselves
Over our wishes for a hasty departure
Ebbing slowly, staying, hovering
Above our lives
Like heavy clouds
Each threatening to remain
Past its appointed time
Giving way, grudgingly
To another year
Which promises to be even
Slower, more tedious
"Wait two months
Until summer"
Two whole months?
Then summer
Will never come
"Wait two months
Until Christmas"
Two whole months?
Then Christmas
Will never come
Childhood lasts a lifetime
Hear it dragging its drum
Across the floor
Then there is a subtle increase
In the march
We welcome the acceleration
We snap our fingersAnd match the tempo,
We are in joint,
This is our time,
Our muscles and bones
Our eyes and skin
Are at last one with
The space we are living in
The heart's steady hum
Quickly changes again
The tempo speeds ahead
Our efforts are vain
To slow down the train
Of life's racing ways
Taking our youth
And shortening our days
They remember our bright plumage
Now thinning and grey
Youth wags its heads
Sadly saying
We have had our day
When you see me walking slowly
And my feet won't find the stair
I will only ask one favor
Don't bring me a rocking chair
The pace has heightened again
And the blood slowsIn our veins
Slackened by age
We may stumble
And fumble and fall
We exchanged our place with time
For it races like light
Down a darkened hall
Please stop
Do not pity me
Please hold your sympathy
Understanding if you've got it
Otherwise I will do without it
When you see me moving slower
Don't study and get it wrong
Tired does not mean lazy
And each good bye is not gone
I am the same person
I was back then
A little less hair
A little less chin
Some less lung
And much less wind
I count myself lucky
I can still breathe in.
Hold, stop.
Don't pity me.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
May She Rest in Peace.
A close friend of mine died yesterday evening. She had undergone chemotherapy with good grace and I knew that Jeannie had come home from the hospital to die in the bed she had shared with her husband. Surrounded by their three daughters, she died at peace and with a smile. I suspect that the smile was for Bob who had succumbed to a heart attack 13 years ago. She looked forward to being buried above him at Arlington Cemetery.She is the first of my close women friends to die. Several male acquaintances have died but Jeannie reminds me that time is of the essence.
I have so many wonderful memories of Jeannie and the times when we were together. I met her in Germany where she was teaching American children who were dependents of American military personnel. She was dating Bob, a Lieutenant who had recently graduated from West Point, a classmate of my husband's. They were married soon after and Chuck and I decorated a caisson (a horse drawn vehicle, usually two wheeled, once used to carry ammunition) for them to ride on to the Officer's Club for the reception. It was replete with wedding flowers and a bottle of champagne on ice! They loved it.
We were stationed together several times, especially in Washington, D.C. Chris and Jim, another classmate of 1954 were there also, and in addition to many memorable parties, we decided to celebrate Mother's Day picnics with our children, which we did for three years. Jeannie and Bob had three girls, Chris and Jim had three sons and two daughters and Chuck and I had two sons and two daughters. Those were happy days.
So many memories flood my mind. Bob, dressed up as a woman at Pam's costume party...being one of Bob's favorite redheads!...Jeannie was always cheerful and had a positive outlook on life. She was a serious thinker. And concerned about issues and causes. Bob adored her. When Chuck died Jeannie and Bob were there. A year later when Bob died I was there. And so were Chris and Jim. After the funeral we went to their beach house and spent a few days while Jeannie cried.
I did not have the opportunity to be near her and see her often but we called each other and talked. It is hard to explain but, when we were together or talked to each other, it was as if we had never been apart.
We were still friends. Always.
May she rest in peace.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
"There is not much on record about falling away."
The above quote is from the book "Somewhere Towards the End" that I am currently reading. It is a memoir by Diana Athill including her experience of growing old. She was born in 1917, worked for the BBC during the Second World War, and after that, helped Andre Deutsch establish his publishing house and worked as an editor. She has written four volumes of memoirs and a novel.
She describes one stage of her life: "Of course you have lost youth, you have moved on and stopped wanting what youth wants." I beg to differ! In my experience, our mirrors tell us that we are no longer young but somewhere deep in our conciousness there is a longing for youth and we never stop "wanting what youth wants." It is just that our bodies age and can no longer meet the demands that youth makes!
She describes one stage of her life: "Of course you have lost youth, you have moved on and stopped wanting what youth wants." I beg to differ! In my experience, our mirrors tell us that we are no longer young but somewhere deep in our conciousness there is a longing for youth and we never stop "wanting what youth wants." It is just that our bodies age and can no longer meet the demands that youth makes!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
I'm Back!
Today I watched Oprah and her favorite Dr. Oz share guidelines for being younger than you are internally as well as externally. Oprah promotes being “the best you can be” which I applaud but the best is always younger than your actual age. What is wrong with being your age? What is wrong with acting your age?
After listening to all the healthy food choices we can make, and watching Dr. Oz demonstrate his athletic prowess, and exploring all the things we do to jeopardize our health, the topic of sex came up. It seems that women over 50 should be having sex at least once a week. And failure to do so, results in visible aging. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry!
With one simple sentence, uttered with great aplomb, thinking it would be universally cheered, they doomed most older women who are unmarried, or widowed by their husbands, or divorced by their husbands to a life of aging faster. Women live longer than men, and older men often prefer younger women. Where does that leave us? Doomed to shrivel up and die? Often celibacy chooses us. We become celibate by default rather than virtue. There is a lack of opportunity.
But what about women who have chosen celibate lives? Nuns and other religious who have taken a vow of chastity? Can they expect to live shorter lives or just look like they’re going to die prematurely?
I am certainly in favor of making healthy diet and life-style choices. I don’t always make them but I’m in favor of them. I am blessed with family and friends. And I’ll continue to enjoy my celibate life in spite of the wrinkles that come my way!
After listening to all the healthy food choices we can make, and watching Dr. Oz demonstrate his athletic prowess, and exploring all the things we do to jeopardize our health, the topic of sex came up. It seems that women over 50 should be having sex at least once a week. And failure to do so, results in visible aging. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry!
With one simple sentence, uttered with great aplomb, thinking it would be universally cheered, they doomed most older women who are unmarried, or widowed by their husbands, or divorced by their husbands to a life of aging faster. Women live longer than men, and older men often prefer younger women. Where does that leave us? Doomed to shrivel up and die? Often celibacy chooses us. We become celibate by default rather than virtue. There is a lack of opportunity.
But what about women who have chosen celibate lives? Nuns and other religious who have taken a vow of chastity? Can they expect to live shorter lives or just look like they’re going to die prematurely?
I am certainly in favor of making healthy diet and life-style choices. I don’t always make them but I’m in favor of them. I am blessed with family and friends. And I’ll continue to enjoy my celibate life in spite of the wrinkles that come my way!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Deja Vu!
During a frenzy of reorganization and cleaning this week I discovered a poem that I had written 20 years ago!
On Growing Older
I don't know
the woman in the mirror
looking back at me.
She looks familiar
as if I've met her before
but I can't quite place her.
Her hair, once golden red
has faded
and is streaked with gray.
Her figure, once slim and shapely
is of
Raphael-esque proportions.
Her face is etched
with lines growing
deeper every day.
I look at her
This stranger who is me
and I wonder what is to become of her.
I live in her, you see
and my desires and dreams
do not fit the image looking back at me.
What has happened?
I am young but she is not!
Life is just beginning...
I have plans and hopes
and projects to accomplish
and so much I want to do.
When did this happen?
One day I looked in the mirror
and it wasn't me.
Now, how do I learn to live
with the woman in the mirror
looking back at me?
On Growing Older
I don't know
the woman in the mirror
looking back at me.
She looks familiar
as if I've met her before
but I can't quite place her.
Her hair, once golden red
has faded
and is streaked with gray.
Her figure, once slim and shapely
is of
Raphael-esque proportions.
Her face is etched
with lines growing
deeper every day.
I look at her
This stranger who is me
and I wonder what is to become of her.
I live in her, you see
and my desires and dreams
do not fit the image looking back at me.
What has happened?
I am young but she is not!
Life is just beginning...
I have plans and hopes
and projects to accomplish
and so much I want to do.
When did this happen?
One day I looked in the mirror
and it wasn't me.
Now, how do I learn to live
with the woman in the mirror
looking back at me?
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Two Wafers in a Baggie
I apologize to those of you who were reading this blog for my lapse in writing without any explanation. It was not a deliberate decision on my part. It began with a debilitating bout of the flu followed by a brief period of depression. While feeling depressed, my sense of humor failed me and I really couldn’t think of anything positive to say about growing older. I really don’t want to write a negative, angry blog bemoaning the aging process so I simply refrained from writing. After recovering from the flu and depression I began to question what I really wanted to write about. With the encouragement of friends and my spiritual director I am going to shift the focus to my spiritual journey which, of course, includes the experience of growing older! Thanks to all of you who have continued to encourage me to write, especially my friend who has been encouraging me for nearly thirty years.
Here is the first entry of my new focus.
TWO WAFERS IN A BAGGIE
Early in the day my boss, a priest in the Episcopal Church, and I had been discussing the 1928 Prayer Book, the language of which does not resonate with her at all. I, being a few years older and having worshiped for longer from the old edition, confessed that I do enjoy Rite I on occasion and that the prayer of confession in which “We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we, from time to time, most grievously have committed…The remembrance of them is grievous unto us; The burden of them is intolerable.” does sometimes eloquently express my innermost feelings.
Later that day, my boss was leaving the office to make a pastoral visit to a hospitalized member of the parish and was dismayed to discover she had left her communion kit at home. She rushed back into the office and a few minutes later emerged again to leave for the hospital. With her usual aplomb and common sense she had put two wafers in a baggie (this particular parishioner never took the wine anyway) and went on her way. A far cry from the solemnity of Elizabethan England! I laughed and continued to think about the disparity between the archaic formality of the old prayer book and the accommodations sometimes necessary to provide communion to those in need.
I love the beauty of the language in much the same way that I love the language of Shakespeare. I also love the grandeur of an Episcopal Eucharist celebrated in a cathedral. The beauty of the setting and the liturgy stirs my soul and the soaring hymns lift my spirit. My heart responds to the pomp and circumstance. However, In spite of my appreciation of archaic language and the formality and solemnity of a high mass, I do not want to return to it. For a steady experience I want to worship a God who is approachable in the 21st century world and feel assured that I am loved, miserable offender though I may be.
In a formal setting I feel a sense of separation. God is my sovereign and therefore less accessible. I want to experience God as my closest friend who loves me without reservation, unreasonably and immeasurably, and will come to me in a baggie if all else fails!
Here is the first entry of my new focus.
TWO WAFERS IN A BAGGIE
Early in the day my boss, a priest in the Episcopal Church, and I had been discussing the 1928 Prayer Book, the language of which does not resonate with her at all. I, being a few years older and having worshiped for longer from the old edition, confessed that I do enjoy Rite I on occasion and that the prayer of confession in which “We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we, from time to time, most grievously have committed…The remembrance of them is grievous unto us; The burden of them is intolerable.” does sometimes eloquently express my innermost feelings.
Later that day, my boss was leaving the office to make a pastoral visit to a hospitalized member of the parish and was dismayed to discover she had left her communion kit at home. She rushed back into the office and a few minutes later emerged again to leave for the hospital. With her usual aplomb and common sense she had put two wafers in a baggie (this particular parishioner never took the wine anyway) and went on her way. A far cry from the solemnity of Elizabethan England! I laughed and continued to think about the disparity between the archaic formality of the old prayer book and the accommodations sometimes necessary to provide communion to those in need.
I love the beauty of the language in much the same way that I love the language of Shakespeare. I also love the grandeur of an Episcopal Eucharist celebrated in a cathedral. The beauty of the setting and the liturgy stirs my soul and the soaring hymns lift my spirit. My heart responds to the pomp and circumstance. However, In spite of my appreciation of archaic language and the formality and solemnity of a high mass, I do not want to return to it. For a steady experience I want to worship a God who is approachable in the 21st century world and feel assured that I am loved, miserable offender though I may be.
In a formal setting I feel a sense of separation. God is my sovereign and therefore less accessible. I want to experience God as my closest friend who loves me without reservation, unreasonably and immeasurably, and will come to me in a baggie if all else fails!
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