The Crab Chronicles

The Legacy of Tina Turner

I remember seeing Tina Turner on the Ed Sullivan Show when I was a little girl and loving seeing her dance. She looked incredibly strong and powerful. I had no idea when she was with Ike Turner he was beating her up constantly. I was shocked to find out years later that she had to literally flee from him, in fear for her life, to get out of that marriage, as she wrote about in I,Tina.

Here's a bit of truth that makes people very uncomfortable: in the old days, which many people refer to with great fondness as "the good old days" women getting hit by their husbands or boyfriends wasn't discussed. It was considered nobody's business. The mantra "mind your own business" covered a multitude of sins, from domestic violence to child abuse, to child molestation, etc.

Tina's courage in walking away from Ike signaled a change in society, a huge shift in how women allowed themselves to be treated.

My mother told me when I was a teenager and starting to date "Never, ever let a man hit you and get away with it. If it happens once and you take it, it will happen over and over. Get away from him. If you're married, walk out, and take your children. NEVER put up with it, not for a minute."

It seemed obvious to me.

Skip ahead a few years and I am a Freshman in college. One of my friends returns from a weekend at home with a black eye where her boyfriend hit her. She was a cute little blonde, very funny and feisty. I was shocked. I told her she had to break up with that boyfriend "But he said he was sorry and it wouldn't happen again!" I got so frustrated with her. Several of us told her to break off that relationship, but I don't know if she did. I don't know what happened to her because I transferred schools.

My dad had a cousin who was a beautiful lady, very smart, a prominent businesswoman in her small hometown, and her husband beat her. She told no-one except a close friend, and that friend also had an abusive husband. The small town where they lived was [probably still is] very old-fashioned and judgmental.

What many young women don't realize nowadays is that abuse still happens, and shame and embarrassment keep many women from talking about it or doing something about it. I've told my own daughter she must never put up with abuse.

God Bless Tina Turner for taking something so personal and painful out of the shadows, and holding herself up as an example of strength. NO WOMAN should put up with abuse, not even one time.

There is a National Domestic Violence hotline and the number is 800-799-7233 -- if you are being abused, call it. There are women's shelters everywhere, and there's no shame in asking for help.

The Ancient Blogger Pioneer

Many years ago when I still had to unplug the phone to power up my computer I started this blog. I had just adopted my daughter and everyone in my large circle of family and friends wanted to know how she was doing. Instead of trying to write twenty emails a night, my computer guru friend Paul helped me set up this blog and I just emailed the password to everyone I knew and tried to write a little something every day. That was in 2005. Some of you weren't born yet.

I had a unique angle. Nobody adopts a 13 year old girl from Russia. My first experience as a mom was trying to mother a child almost as tall as me who didn't speak English. There were no guidebooks. The terror was real. Blogging helped me process it.

I digressed.

I was stunned and horrified to see that Heather Armstrong a/k/a Dooce died yesterday by suicide. I read her blog devotedly for years and admired her writing style. I haven't read her blog much in recent years because I often disagreed with her politics but occasionally I would check back in. I had no idea she battled alcoholism. I guess we never really know what someone is going through, even if they are in the public eye. I am very sad though, for her family. She left behind two daughters and a long-term boyfriend. 

She was a thin, attractive person with great mothering skills and phenomenal writing skills. She seemed to have it all, and yet we never really know how someone is feeling inside.

Blogging seems like a quaint word now, sadly.

So many bloggers I used to read don't even write anymore. Two bloggers I read faithfully, Andrea and Hallie, stopped blogging when they went through personal crises -- the breakup of Andrea's marriage in a particularly horrible way, and the death of Hallie's son by suicide. I've never met either one of them in person but I loved their blogs. Neither would call herself a writer and yet they both have boatloads of writing talent and I have always been envious.

For me, writing has never been easy. I am jealous of people who do it almost effortlessly.

I digressed.

I will pray and send healing thoughts to Heather's daughters. They are in high school, which is hard enough without losing your mom.

We are no strangers to suicide in my family. My son lost his older birth brother to suicide, when he was 6. It's very cruel to those left behind. He also lost two friends to suicide, in recent years. We have to do better at helping people get past being suicidal. As a country, we have to have better access to mental health treatment. So many of the shootings that happen are because the shooters are suicidal. Do you know how difficult it is to get psychological help? It's unaffordable unless you are wealthy. It makes me incredibly angry.

Here endeth the lesson.

#ripheatherarmstrong, #suicidesucks, #goodbyedooce, #bloggingpioneer, #mommybloggers, #suicideispreventable

How to Not Freak Out

When I was young I could go from calm to completely freaked out in a nanosecond. All my friends knew this about me. I once referred to myself as a laid back person and the friends I was with fell on the ground laughing and clutching their stomachs, howling with glee.

Well, not really. They did think I was dee-lusional, though.

I read a blog today and it reminded me of the terrible day 27 years ago when my father died, and I had to drive to Augusta where my parents lived. Talk about major freakout potential. My mom and my aunts were very worried about me driving all that way, crying. Everyone mourns differently. If I hear something very sad or upsetting [like someone has died] my reaction is to burst into tears, although I usually pull myself together as quickly as I need to, now. When Dad died, though, I was in my early 30's and still easily freaked out.

I ran back to my apartment and packed, and started driving to Augusta. It's about a 2.5 hour drive and rather boring. I tried not to cry but of course that made me really cry.

I held it together on I-285, which encircles Atlanta and is rather terrifying under the best of circumstances, but then I got onto I-20 which is a much smaller road, less traffic at midday, and just lost it. Even though my dad had been sick with cancer for months the diagnosis had come only a few weeks before he died. He was only 65, which I now think of as relatively young. I cried and cried, and drove, and I felt my dad in the car with me.

Up until that time I had honestly had my doubts about the whole afterlife concept. It seemed pretty far-fetched to me. After I lost my dad, though, I could feel his presence a lot of times, and I just knew his soul was still alive. That day in the car, that drive, changed my life forever.

I heard the other day about a cousin who has passed, and it was really sad because she was just a couple of years older than me. That's mind-boggling. Whenever I think about her, though, I try to focus on the idea that she is reunited with her parents in heaven, and out of all earthly pain and suffering. I believe that to be true.

I read a book a few years ago called Dying to Be Me, by Anita Moorjani. She had cancer years ago and clinically died, but came back to tell her story and bring comfort and enlightenment to many people, all over the world. I find NDE [near death experience] stories so compelling, because 99% of them say the same thing, that on the other side there is no judgment or punishment, only healing and love and beauty.

I have friends who are very skeptical of that. I feel sorry for them.

Anyway, back to freaking out.

I am writing a new novel and I realized the other day that when I am writing about a character I like getting freaked out I always put in that the character stops and takes deep breaths, to calm down. That's what I do! It always works. Always.

I also ask God to help me become calm and centered. Faith helps a lot.

Let's say you have no faith in God and you don't want to try meditative breathing. Another way to not freak out is to think THIS TOO SHALL PASS. Everything passes. You can let things freak you out, or realize that the only thing you can really count on in life is change.

Finally, remember that freaking out accomplishes nothing. It fills your heart and mind with negativity, and that's terrible for your emotional and even physical health.

I recently read this story about a man in New Jersey who is 109 and who still lives independently, drives, and is doing well despite his age. I love this quote from him:

“I keep positive. I never think any other way when something’s wrong,” Dransfield says.

Words to live by.

Bullying

I was watching a movie on Netflix called Where the Crawdads Sing last night and it triggered me, big time. In the movie the little "Marsh Girl" tries to go to school and the other kids make fun of her and say ugly things about her where she can hear them. They belittle her and make her feel awful. They verbally bully her. She finds it unbearable and runs away.

Left, me in 6th grade, 1974. I was verbally bullied throughout school. I remember wishing I could be invisible. School was social torture. I was bullied for being fat, because I was a little bit chubby. Not grossly obese. I was an outdoors kid. I like to shoot hoops, play tennis, swim, water ski, play kickball, etc.

After I grew up I forgot about it, honestly.

Every once in a while I remember, though. A TV show or movie or even a book will trigger bad memories.

The bullying stopped when I was a freshman in high school and my older brother and I were riding the bus home from school in the beginning of the year. I was a freshman and he was a senior. One of the bullies rode our bus and lived in the same neighborhood. He said something mean to me on the bus and my brother told him to shut up. The bully didn't shut up. Bruce got up, walked over to the kid, and punched him in the face. My brother got kicked off the bus and walked home. My parents weren't upset with him. In fact, they praised him. Mom called the school the next day and talked to the Vice Principal about it and he agreed not to do anything else to Bruce.

Most importantly, that boy never bullied me again, nor did any of his friends.

I don't really believe in karma, but I do agree with the bible verse that says "you reap what you sow." It makes sense. What goes around comes around. I am trying to make the point that all those little boys who bullied me and who were mean to me have disappeared.

I am Facebook friends with a lot of people I grew up with, and I have never seen a single profile or post by any of those boys who bullied me. There was one guy whose sister I saw on there pretty frequently. She posted that he had died of cancer a few years back. I won't say I was happy to see that, but I wasn't sad, either. I now realize that that particular guy had a very low IQ, in addition to being a rotten person. He never married or had children, which was a blessing. I firmly believe that bullies shouldn't have children, not unless they get some counseling.

You're probably wondering why I brought this up. Two reasons.

One, holding a grudge against a bully or anyone else who wrongs you does nothing to them. It poisons you, though. Your soul is filled with negative thoughts and ideas and that's corrosive. Forgiveness is what heals you. You don't have to approve of or agree with the behavior to forgive the person who wrongs you. You just have to forgive and let go.

Two, if your child is being bullied, make it stop. If I heard a kid had bullied one of my kids I would go to the school the next day and tell the child to point out the bullies. Then I would demand they be kicked out of school, and my child transferred to another class. The school would likely view me as a troublemaker and not want to do what I ask. I would assure them that failure to stop any future bullying would be met with consequences. If the bullying happened again I would pull my child out of school and go to the school board. I'd likely go to the local news station and ask them to do a story. You probably think that sounds like an overreaction but you would be wrong.

Verbal bullying can devastate a child and destroy their self-esteem. That's not just my opinion. It can also cause Depression and Anxiety, and affect a child's grades.

According to McLean Hospital:

The National Center for Education Statistics and the Bureau of Justice Statistics and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have published recent statistics, including:

• One out of every five students between the ages of 12 and 18 has experienced bullying at some point
• Students who reported being bullied stated it had an impact on how other students treated them
• Many children are bullied by peers who are larger or stronger than they are
• Some children are bullied because they have less money than their peers
• Fewer than half of all students who experienced bullying in school report it to authorities

Cyberbullying is also a terrible thing.

Cyberbullying is a significant concern. It can have a major impact on a young person’s mental health. Adolescents who are the victims of cyberbullying are more likely to experience depression, anxiety, and academic difficulties.

According to one study published by JAMA, young people exposed to cyberbullying are at a 50% increased risk of suicidal thoughts than their peers. Another recent study showed that children and young adults who experience cyberbullying are more than twice as likely to harm themselves and display suicidal behavior.

One study published by the Joint Research Center found that more than half of all children surveyed had experienced cyberbullying in some way. A survey published by Google indicated that teachers believe cyberbullying is their top safety concern in the classroom.

WHERE I DISAGREE WITH THE EXPERTS

Telling your child to ignore it doesn't work. Leaving it up to a teacher to stop it doesn't work. Schools usually do nothing until a child acts out violently or commits suicide. I am advocating a far more deliberate and profound set of actions. Threaten to sue. Pull your child out of school. I homeschooled my daughter for a year and it wasn't that difficult. Go to the news media. Confront the child or children who are doing the bullying and make their parents aware of what they are doing, most importantly. Hold the parents accountable. Most importantly, get the child away from the bullies. Never back down.

I adopted my son when he was 10 years old. When he was 5, a group of older boys bullied him and he fought back, and was beaten unconscious and left for dead. As a result, his right hand was frostbitten and had to be amputated. If his birthmom had been more vigilant it wouldn't have happened. She was an alcoholic. So now you know why I am such a zealot when it comes to bullying.

To Know the Place

It has taken many years, but I am finally learning how to really see and feel the glories of this beautiful place, earth. The journey was worth it.

When I was 8 years old and my family moved to Knoxville, Tennessee, we started spending most Sunday afternoons in the car. Mom liked to “go to ride” on Sundays, after church and after Sunday’s big lunch, we would typically go to ride and stay gone all afternoon, exploring beautiful East Tennessee. The mountains were everywhere, even at home. Knoxville is in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains and you could stand at the back windows on the second floor of our house and see the foothills in the distance.

I hated going on Sunday drives. I was always bored. My parents couldn’t figure out why I didn’t appreciate the beauty of the mountains.

[left, me in 5th grade]

Soon after we got settled in, Mom and Dad realized there was a terrific little town an easy drive from home. We often drove to Gatlinburg, which in the early 70’s was not the congested tourist mecca it is now. I loved to go to the candy kitchen and watch the mesmerizing machine that makes taffy, or go to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not Museum, or the tacky gift shop known as Rebel’s Corner. Even before we got to Gatlinburg there were fun places to explore. On the way to Gatlinburg we went through Pigeon Forge, which had a restaurant in an old train car, a mill that still milled cornmeal, and a little family-owned restaurant where you could get a wonderful meat n’three -- of course that was years before Dollywood. I found places where I could put my face close to what I was seeing far more fascinating then the hulking shapes of the mountains.

In fourth grade, I failed the eye exam given to all the kids. The ophthalmologist discovered I was quite nearsighted, and I got glasses. Suddenly, the mountains were not just a blur. Mom told me later she felt terrible because she and Dad hadn’t realized that my vision was impaired and that’s why I found the Sunday drives so boring. Of course, I was a kid -- and sitting in the car staring out the window was boring even with my glasses, I reassured her.

I could never understand, until the last ten years or so, why anyone would want to just sit and stare at mountains or anything else in nature. I found sitting and staring at anything [other than a book or movie] incredibly boring.

My dad used to come home from work [he was a bank VP] and fix himself a drink, and go out into the backyard and just stare, and sip. He was usually out there at least half an hour before he would be ready to come in for dinner. I had no idea why he did that. Of course, as an adult I understood the importance of unwinding after a busy day. Mom usually joined him, and I know she liked being outside in the quiet, too. Her life as a SAHM was stressful but just different from Dad’s life, of course.

I realize now that those middle years of life, roughly from ages 20-50, are the busiest times for most of us.

Now, having sold my house in 2021 and living in an apartment since then, I realize that the lovely backyard of my house, with it’s trees and flowers, was a haven. Why didn’t I stay out there more, staring at the yard, the creek, the hydrangeas, the great magnolia tree, the squirrels and cardinals that lived there? Why didn’t I enjoy that peaceful place more?

[right, the blooming apple tree in my yard]

There are several lessons here. Really seeing nature is a great gift. I have friends and cousin/friends who literally crave getting outside and away from their busy lives. They feel a pull, a longing, to see mountains up close, to see flowing water and huge trees up close, to feel the sunshine on their faces while they hear only bird songs and insects drone. I wish that I could easily slip away to bask in the places where I feel most peaceful.

The folks of my mom’s generation are almost all gone now. I don’t have the luxury of staring down the road and seeing scads of time left to calm down and appreciate this amazing world God designed for us.

As the years have passed, I’ve slowed down a good bit. I am far less of an energetic dervish like my dad and far more able to sit and just be still in nature, without constantly checking my watch or worrying about getting insect bites. Now, I am not so impatient. I pay attention to blooming things, to birds, to the subtleties of nature and the peace that’s found by water.

One day my ashes will go back into the soil and water of this place, of North Georgia, where I will join the crowds of my ancestors that worked hard all their lives before finally being able to rest. The thought doesn’t frighten me in the least. I welcome it, in fact.

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.” T.S. Eliot

A Handicap Is a State of Mind

When I was ready to adopt a second child I knew I wanted a boy and I wanted a child with some sort of special need, who would nonetheless be capable and independent one day. I had so many people tell me I would not be able to stand the stress of parenting a "handicapped" child as a single mom. They were genuinely caring and concerned. I spotted this little guy on a website and knew instantly he was my son:

I got in touch with a nonprofit that made trips to Kazakhstan and could give me some inside information about Igor and his condition, and they reported he was a friendly, outgoing little guy who did well in school and was liked by the teachers and kids -- and he could dress himself, bathe, etc. They were right. He is completely autonomous. I've never had to do ANY caretaking for Michael.

Everyone who thought he would be a burden to me was utterly and completely WRONG. He is an enormous blessing.

Never assume that someone who is missing a limb is handicapped. Never assume that someone in a wheelchair isn't capable. Never assume a brain injury automatically makes someone helpless. I have a friend who is a veteran who suffered a TBI [traumatic brain injury] and he now runs a nonprofit and is a leader in his field and makes a great living [but doesn't take any $ from the nonprofit]. He is one of the most brilliant, energetic, articulate people I've every known.

I've known people who had a wonky ankle and thought of themselves as handicapped.

Being "handicapped" has nothing to do with physical issues and everything to do with ATTITUDE. My son Michael has the attitude that he can do anything he wants to do, and he is right!

Yesterday he made lasagna and brownies to take as a thank-you gift to some friends who recently did him a favor. He delivered the lasagna and homemade brownies that he made with great good humor, and his friends knew they were getting delicious food and his smiling face delivering it. Below, Mike making the lasagna.

At right, a funny shirt a co-worker gave him.

We laugh all the time about him telling people a lion bit off his hand, or he lost it in some climbing accident or some other silliness.

We think laughter is healing.

When Mike was wearing a prosthetic and learning to ride a bike, years ago, he fell off the bike but his prosthetic stayed put and it looked like his hand was severed.. a lady drove by in her car and nearly wrecked it when she saw the hand on the handlebars and no boy attached. LOL

Laughter heals.

My mother used to always say "If you don't laugh, you'll cry," and she was right. We laugh a lot.

Below, a drawing Michael did years ago. He is a very talented artist.

 

Tips for Caretakers of Elderly People

I spent 7 years taking care of my elderly mother, and I learned a few things from that experience -- the hard way. Nobody told me much. I just had to figure things out. I never trained as a nurse or CNA. Taking care of her as she slowly declined taught me a lot -- particularly about kindness, dignity, and compassion.

So here in no particular order are some things I learned.

1) Take away the car keys sooner rather than later. You can reassure your senior they will get rides to where they need to be. It's SO important.Mom had an elderly friend who nearly killed a car full of kids because her reaction time was too slow and she stubbornly refused to stop driving. You can call an Uber for someone else, if you cannot take them where they need to go.

2) Don't try to exclude your kids from helping. Any child over 10 can help with caretaking for a senior and its a good thing, trust me. It teaches them patience and kindness. My son was a doll when it came to taking care of his granny, even when he was struggling with substance abuse issues. He adored her. They were very close. He could lift her in and out of her wheelchair when I couldn't manage. He could pick up prescriptions so I didn't have to leave her. He could just sit with her for an hour so I could have a break. He fixed her computer and Kindle countless times when her shaking hands messed up something. She called him her "knight in shining armor."

3) For years I carried around two things in my purse: a list of Mom's medications including name, dosage information, and prescribing doctor. I also carried a copy of her durable healthcare power of attorney [aka "living will"]. More than once I had to hand those to EMTs or nurses to copy. A typed page of her medical history was also helpful. When I called an ambulance for her the last time I just ran and copied everything and handed the packet of papers to the EMT. He was impressed. I couldn't go to the hospital with her because of Covid. She died four days later.

4) Most seniors have incontinence issues. My mom slept on an incontinence pad for a couple of years before she passed. Sometimes they were hard to find. A "puppy training pad" is the exact same thing and most bigger grocery stores carry them.

5) My room was upstairs and my mom's room was downstairs. Sometimes in the night she needed me. We tried lots of different ways for her to call me -- yelling, walkie talkies, bells, whistles. Finally, we got a baby monitor. It worked best, but she got up several times a night so I had to learn to sleep through that noise.

6) Eventually, food didn't taste good to her. I found that a carton of Greek yogurt was easy on her tummy and her teeth and she started eating it daily for breakfast.

7) Sometimes at night she would wake up screaming and/or crying from the pain of leg cramps. Her potassium would be depleted due to diarrhea because she had IBS. What helped was to let her drink a glass of tonic water and eat good old salty Lay's potato chips. Potatoes are a great source of potassium, better than bananas. It also helps to gently massage the place that's cramping. Those things work much quicker than taking a potassium pill, trust me. We tried both.

8) She stayed at home and seldom went out the last few years because of a host of physical issues. It was important for her to connect with friends and family, though. She didn't see her older brother for years before she died because he was in a nursing home in NC and neither one of them could travel during their last few years. We would do phone calls, though, and those really helped her. Also, calls to old friends were vital to her emotional well-being. Her hands got so bad she needed help dialing the phone. A couple of times my cousins and I were able to set up video calls, and those were a true blessing.

9) The last few years of her life, Mom was plagued with UTIs [urinary tract infections] and I had no idea that those could cause dementia-like symptoms and even hallucinations, plus general weakness. The issues lingered for a while after each UTI, and weakened her. She wore heavy pads due to incontinence and those were the problem. Women can have surgery to repair leakage and we should have urged her to do that. Hindsight.

10) After Mom died, I realized with deep regret that I didn't have but two tiny 5 minute videos of her telling stories. I should have taken more! We talked every day and she was a wonderful storyteller. I just wish I had recorded more audio and videos, just to feel like I could visit with her after her passing. I really cherish those videos now, of course. You may think there is time but don't wait, act! Trust me, when your mom or dad or grandma die, you will really regret not having more of them on video.

11) Drinking straws that bend are a godsend. Her hands were weak and shaky the last few years, and we put straws even into hot coffee.

12) Computers are a blessing. Mom loved her computer. She sent out funny emails, spent time on Facebook daily, and even learned to Google. She googled everyone she knew. Yes, as her hands got worse she would "mess up" the computer a lot, but it helped her feel connected to the world and kept her brain more agile than if she had just been staring at a TV.

I am very blessed that she liked to write blogs, and she wrote a blog for years, with my help. After she passed, I collected her best blogs into an anthology and it's available on Amazon, Singing to the Cows.

I still miss her every day.

#caretakingforasenior, #caringforaparent, #tipsforcaretakers, #elderlyissues, #learningtobeacaretaker

Feel Good About Aging, Ladies

I used to have an argument with my mother all the time that went something like this:

Elva: "Dee you need to wear some makeup and fix your hair."

Dee: "I hate makeup and I'm not going to wear any."

Elva: "At least wear some lipstick, then."

In my mother's opinion, no woman should leave her house with natural looking lips. She wore a bright red lipstick called Love That Red and I could always tell when she didn't feel well because she would fail to put on lipstick and eyebrow color.

My mother felt like she truly was unattractive without makeup. She colored her hair for years, but then got tired of it, cut her hair short and let it go gray. I liked her gray hair a lot better because it looked natural.

She didn't budge on the makeup question, though. She felt like wearing makeup made a woman feel better about herself. It certainly worked for her. 

I spent years carefully planning what I would wear to work each day, fixing my long hair, and carefully applying my makeup. I was trying to catch a husband. I had to bait the hook, if I wanted to catch one. [above, a photo of me next to Mom, in full hunting gear]

When I adopted my daughter, though, I was 41 years old and I decided the Great Husband Hunt was OVER. My family was almost complete. I didn't feel the need to impress anyone. I started wearing stretchy pants, big comfy tops, and Crocs. I quit wearing makeup.

My mother lived with me and was appalled.

I could never get her to understand that for me, giving up all the fuss was a HUGE relief.

I tried to explain to Mom once that in her life, she had been conditioned to feel that if she looked natural -- without makeup, without a hair "DO" and wearing comfortable clothes [not a girdle and stockings/pantyhose] -- that she looked BAD. Furthermore, she was taught that once she had caught a man she still had to keep him. She kept a little basket of makeup, including a comb and perfume, right near the front door. When she saw Dad's car turn in the driveway she would run comb her hair and freshen her makeup so she could greet him at the door with a smile.

Maybe she had the right idea. She was married 40 years. Most of the women of her generation didn't get divorced. Books and magazine articles in the 1950's advised women that if they let a man come home to a messy house and a wife without makeup they would probably wind up divorced.

What sparked this blog was this article about how wonderful Cher looked at a recent event. She is 76. She has always had her own individual style and always flown in the face of critics and anyone who thought she should look conventional. I've always admired her outspokenness and independence. I remember watching her variety show when I was a kid. However, seeing her clearly trying to look much younger, with the long dyed hair and the face that has clearly had every plastic surgery procedure one can have, makes me feel sorry for her. She is trying so hard to fight natural aging. She looks very unnatural and fake. She's also dating a guy 40 years her junior -- so technically young enough to be her grandson, which is super creepy. [I would say that about a man dating someone 40 years younger, too.]

Now, before you compose your hateful comment, know this: I fully support women doing whatever they want to do in terms of makeup, hair, who they date, etc. We still live in a free country and everyone should look whatever way they want to look. Wouldn't it be great if all women were happy to look their age, though?

I just feel like the media is constantly glorifying women who "defy" age and as a result, women spend a huge amount of time and money to look younger. How often do you see the media celebrate the beauty of an older woman who has gray hair and wrinkles and doesn't turn herself inside out trying to look a lot younger? Not too often.

At left, Jamie Lee Curtis. She is 63, so more than ten years younger than Cher. Jamie looks normal, though. She is still attractive but you don't see her dressing like a biker chick and hanging all over a man young enough to be her grandson. Of course, Cher is still trying to attract lovers and Jamie has been happily married for more than twenty years. If she were divorced, would she be trying to "defy" aging? I don't know. Hopefully not.

I also feel like women in Hollywood get celebrated for looking younger, and held up as examples all women should follow, and that's completely unfair. I cannot afford multiple plastic surgeries. I don't want to inject poison in my face (aka Botox). I cannot afford fashionable clothes. I cannot afford a cook, or a personal trainer, or to eat seafood every night. So there's literally no possibility that I can hope to look like Halle Berry or Jennifer Anniston.

That's okay. I'm not crying about that. I am happily single and likely to remain that way. I have always been very independent.

As a society, we need to un-do all the media pressure to look younger. The emphasis should be on looking and feeling healthy.

Celebs like Demi Moore, who say there's nothing wrong with aging, also say things I find quite disturbing. Moore has designed a new line of swimsuits that no normal woman over 50 will look good in! It "...includes bikinis, one-pieces with deep V-necklines, and high-waisted two-pieces inspired by vintage designs. "We don't want to look matronly or not feel sexy." She says her own grandmother at 60 "seemed resigned to being old." Uh, that's called accepting reality. What's wrong with looking matronly, Demi? You're reinforcing the idea that women have to starve themselves, dye their hair, and try to compete with younger women for male attention. Shame on you. The next thing you will see is Demi dating some guy 10, 20, 30 years younger. In Hollyweird that is celebrated. And they wonder why so many of us in the flyover states do not admire them.

In researching this blog I found a lot of articles quoting celebs like Demi and Gwyneth Paltrow and Andi McDowell, etc. saying how wonderful it is that women can look their age, and yet every one of them looks carefully sculpted and groomed to look younger. They clearly don't understand the hypocrisy inherent in their bizarre mixed messages.

The bottom line here, as I see it, is this: I cared way too much about looks when I was younger. Now my only real concern is being clean and wearing clean clothes. No amount of makeup or hair dye will make me look ten or twenty years younger and that's fine. I'm comfortable in my own skin. I'm not worried about catching a man. I want to feel well and one day have enough energy to play with my [future] grandchildren.

I am so much less concerned with what anybody thinks of me, now. I don't let minor stuff upset me. I get a lot of pleasure out of simple things like a nice meal, a wonderful song, a great movie. I tell people I love how I feel, without fear. I cherish my friends. I like me.

I hope and pray future generations of women will stop feeling so much pressure to "defy aging." It's inevitable and we should embrace it.

#womenshouldembraceaging, #wrinklesarebeutiful, #celebsshouldshutupaboutaging, #agingisnormal, #embraceoldage, #loveyourselfatanyage, #grayhairisbeautiful, #stoptryingtolookyoung

Formerly the Queen of the Uptight

I used to be a person that freaked out quite easily. I was the opposite of laid back. I was the Queen of the Perpetually Uptight. That's not a good thing, trust me.

Everything is energy. It took me years to really grasp that but that's one of the benefits of getting older. If you're lucky, and you keep an open mind, you will accumulate knowledge that will help you cope. My hard-won knowledge of energy is as comforting to me as religion is to a lot of folks. 

One of my cousins posted a long essay about vibrational energy on Facebook. Below is a quote from it:

7 things that affect your vibrational frequency from the point of view of quantum physics.

Vibration in quantum physics means that everything is energy. We are vibrating beings on certain frequencies. Every vibration equals a feeling and in the "vibrational" world, there are only two kinds of vibration, positive and negative. Every feeling makes you emit a vibration that can be positive or negative.

 

Every thought emits a frequency out to the universe and that frequency goes back to the source, so in case if you have negative thoughts, discouragement, sadness, anger, fear, it all comes back to you. This is why it is so important that you take care of the quality of your thoughts and learn to cultivate more positive thoughts.

 

So true. When I was younger my head was filled with a lot of negative thoughts. School stressed me out because I was always wanting to make top grades and when I didn't immediately grasp the material I panicked. I also got bullied at school because I was chubby. At home, I was a constant source of annoyance to my older brother because I was walking around breathing in the same house, so he liked to tease me mercilessly.

 

I grew up and became a paralegal, mainly because my dad thought it was a good idea. I really never wanted to be a paralegal. It took me years to make peace with it. I felt obsolete in my last paralegal position -- lots of negative energies. (Thanks be to God I now have a job I love where I can use my legal background but I get to write all day, a huge blessing.)

 

I have told my son many times, we can control our thoughts. He is only slowly coming around to accepting this idea. It's true, though. Once he really understands that and puts it into practice, life will get easier. I have noticed this in my own life. It can be very tricky to do, though.

 

I have a relative who is a big strong guy but he is the most fearful person I know. He constantly worries about everything, and as a result those fears control him. My last few conversations with him have been very strained so I have decided to distance myself from him for the time being. If I told this guy that the key to inner peace lies in thought control he would snort with contempt. [I've seen that many times! He is the Snort King!] He cannot do what I do so often in life and simply turn it over to God. He knows the concept, but he cannot do it. Turning it over to God is just a mental exercise. It's the act of saying to God [or the Universe, or whatever deity you believe in] that you feel completely frustrated and unable to handle a problem, but you are going to turn your thoughts elsewhere and trust God/The Universe/Buddha/whoever to handle the problem. Taking a mental vacation from your thoughts can be very difficult to do because you stop trying to control the situation. It's absolutely necessary, though, to avoid all the worry and feelings of inadequacy and anxiety.

 

I think sometimes people cling to their negative thoughts because letting go of them would feel like a betrayal, or an acknowledgement that they aren't always right.

 

When you focus on the positive, though, it changes things. Let's say you don't believe in God. You know the happiness you feel when you express love? That's positive energy and that's a healing energy. Pet your dog or cat for a few minutes. Play with your child. Take a walk by a lake or river. Close your eyes and listen to a favorite song. Take a friend out to lunch. Put those positive vibes into yourself and see what happens.

 

I don't want to get into a political argument here but I was reminded of this yesterday as I watched the news coverage of the overturning of Roe v. Wade. Half of the people in America are in deep despair over that Supreme Court ruling. The other half are rejoicing and celebrating -- but also quite anxious about the possible backlash. The same can be said for the gun control bill just passed by Congress. Some rejoice, some despair.

 

The entire country feels awash in negative energy. We all need to walk that back -- and we can. All the negative energy accomplishes nothing. It's really wasted energy. Roll up your sleeves and work for the side you believe in, and keep focusing on the result you want. Protest peacefully if you like. Don't riot because that does nothing good. Express loving feelings through acts of kindness.

 

My dad had a very stressful job. He was a bank vice president. His days were often long and very stressful. When he got home from work, though, he would always change clothes and spend time with his children, usually playing with us. He really played -- on the floor, playing with toys, singing songs, playing games. He told Mom it was his favorite part of the day because he could forget about all the stress of the day.

 

We all need to remember that. You want to change the world? Fine. Go play. Go love. Go sing your song. Fill yourself with positive energy and wait for the blessings to roll in, as inevitably as the tide.

 

 

Learning from Dad

Like most folks my age, I have now experienced the deaths of both of my parents. Mother left me in June of 2020 and I am still processing that loss. My father died in 1996. I had just turned 34 years old. Although at the time I felt middle-aged, I look back now and realize I was embryonic. I had led a fairly sheltered life up until then. I just didn't know it.

One of the nice things about being on the dark side of 50 is that you may have developed the ability to look back and see how the puzzle pieces of your life fit together. When I was in my twenties I found the future terrifying. I had calmed down a lot by the time my dad died, but his death still felt like someone had kicked the chair out from under me, and I couldn't get off the floor for a long time.

I wanted to share with you some things my dad shared with me, that I only realized in hindsight were really important.

Dad had an amazing ability to forgive people who had wronged him. There was a man who had worked for him and gone over Dad's head to say some ugly things about Dad to the big boss at the bank, which in my mother's view was utterly unforgivable. Dad forgave him readily. Another man Dad worked with was mentally ill and wouldn't take his meds, and Dad had to fire him, which was really painful. The man threatened to kill him, and Dad carried a pistol in his car for years and was hyper vigilant as a result. Years later, the man heard Dad was dying and went to see him in Augusta and Dad was gracious and nice. My mother was horrified -- but Mom was much more inclined to hold a grudge.

In my own life, I have friends I rarely exchange a cross word with, and friends I fuss and fight with frequently, but I forgive them (and they forgive me) and we remain friends. My brother is like mom in that he holds grudges, but I don't really see that as a positive trait. In the end, not forgiving is more harmful than forgiving someone because you are holding onto ill feelings that are poisoning you, not the person who wronged you. Forgiving releases you from that prison of negativity.

Dad always hated hypocrisy. I remember him going to a funeral of a man he knew professionally who wasn’t a personal friend and coming home really disgusted. Everyone at the funeral had spoken about the man in absolutely glowing terms. Dad told Mom they guy was a real jerk, but nobody was telling the truth at the funeral. Everyone felt they had to only say nice things because the guy was dead. Dad hated the dishonesty of that. Mom’s attitude was well what did you expect?! I see hypocrisy sometimes now and I feel like Dad; it’s nauseating to me. However, I refuse to let it bother me. Hypocrisy is like death and taxes; inevitable.

Snobbery is a terrible thing. I’ve seen Dad go out of his way to be kind and friendly to the janitorial staff and be just polite to the bank president. He had a way of being friendly to everyone which made people love him, because they could see that he was the opposite of a snob. Even though Dad had a master’s degree and spent 95% of his professional life as the vice president of a bank, he was never snobby. I think that humility was one of his defining characteristics because Dad was raised by two parents who couldn’t have been more different. Grandaddy was raised in a poor farming family in South Georgia and he had to quit school and help support his mother and siblings at a young age. Grandmother was also raised in a farming family, but in a prosperous, socially prominent southern family. A lady in her position shouldn’t have fallen in love with an uneducated man who had very little money and wasn’t her social equal, but she did. Mom said when Thompson was dying she nursed him faithfully and would talk about how beautiful he was, and Mom had never seen someone so loving and devoted to their spouse. Grandmother obviously was not a snob.

I like to think I inherited Dad’s anti-snobbery. I have known girls [mostly in high school] who came from well-to-do families who were just obnoxious. I also had a friend in high school who came from an obviously poor family, but he was far more friendly and interesting to talk to, and he was brilliant. I was delighted to find him on Facebook a few years ago and see that he is doing really well. To be fair, most of the obnoxious girls are now nice people, I am happy to report, and many are grandmamas now. People mature – a good reason to forgive. [Nobody should be judged forever by how they acted in high school!]

One should always be kind to young people who are still learning. Dad was always unfailingly kind to my friends, our neighbors, people he worked with, people at church, etc. but he had a soft spot for younger folks and I think that came from being raised by a teacher. Helping someone learn and grow as a person is a hugely rewarding thing. I’ve seen him mentor and nurture folks at the bank only to lose them to higher-paying jobs but Dad always wished them well.

I have tried to be a good friend/mentor to younger folks, personally and professionally, but I’m not sure if I am always successful. I do try.

Savor the joyful moments in life. Sometimes we are so anxious and/or stressed out that we forget to be joyful. I have fond memories of seeing Dad’s unbridled joy at something as simple as going swimming, or getting a phone call from one of his brothers, or discovering a new barbeque joint. His joy was contagious, too – I would see his delight and it would make me happy. He loved Christmas and would always take great delight in opening presents and seeing us open presents. I sometimes forget to enjoy my life, because there are so many things that are worrisome. I need to try and remember to seek out and cherish things I enjoy, and to put aside fear as much as possible. [Covid has made that difficult to do consistently.]

Love fearlessly. If Tony Thompson loved you, you knew you were loved. You would have no doubt. We would have some major disagreements sometimes, but I never doubted his love for me. I try to tell my kids and my friends I love them, fairly often. Some people say the words are meaningless but that’s not true. Saying the words is important. At the end of your life you are not going to look back and say “I shouldn’t have said I love you as often.” No, you will regret not expressing that more, because in the end, you will realize that material things are meaningless, and love is the most important thing in life. I hope when I am gone people will say If Dee loved you, you knew you were loved! It would be the highest tribute.