Category Archives: American life

Holiday Presents

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In response to queries about what I might like as a holiday or upcoming birthday present, I am wondering if I have hit “that age” or developed a stronger sense of being part of the universe?

With the evil spreading in our country that has stripped families apart or made the simple costs of food, shelter and other necessities too expensive for others, how can I want anything? If I need to think about creating a list for days, I think I know the answer

First, my deepest wishes: food, safe shelter, healthcare and education to be accessible in our country. People with compassion, wisdom, morals, the ability to use real language when talking, willingness to listen, commitment to collaborative decisions to lead government at all levels, in all nations. Narcissistic strong men be removed from positions of influence or power.

On the personal level: A giant gift would be securing my family’s futures so that those of us aging don’t burden the younger, the middle generation continue to live the modestly comfortable lives they have achieved, the children reach maturity in a country that has found its way back to peace and prosperity while honoring the Statue of Liberty‘s invitation. It would be grand to find a small house for our last decades and free our family home for a family.

But if my stumbling over the gift question is about approaching “that age” and actual physical items must be named, my gift list is simple: warm socks, two books, a box of English Toffee, framed photos, individual time with each family member in the coming year, donations made to food shelves.  

Add new pajamas and a couple of white long sleeve polo shirts, this might have been my father’s list twenty years ago when he was the age I am now. And he is a good reminder of what holiday presents should include. He was someone who gave to others at holidays: food boxes we packed, a canned ham, cookies we baked, wrapped toys, sweaters and pajamas for others’ children, cash in a card, and because it was Wisconsin sometimes a bottle of brandy. 

Time to get busy.

Thoughts on the Urge to Purge

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Loads of articles encourage retirees to declutter our possessions and purge decades of accumulation. My generation is repeatedly reminded our kids won’t want our stuff. True. They’ll want it after we’ve given it away. Or never. 

Purging sounds so virtuous.

The philosophy of decluttering or purging goes like this—discard what you don’t need. Pare down your belonging to the essentials. Ideally, give your stuff to someone who can use it. The process is also supposed to offer emotional benefits:

  • Get rid of what weighs you down—the boxes full of old files, the clothes that don’t fit, the shopping mistakes. Let go of the emotional weight of caring for all these things. The sense of responsibility and guilt are bad for you. 
  • Think how light and refreshed you’ll feel when you have less stuff. Less to take care of. A clean slate. (Who the heck even knows what a slate is? Well OK, I do. It’s a personal chalkboard students did schoolwork on. I have one in my office closet that belonged to my grandfather. I’m not even that attached to it. Would a history museum want this artifact? Probably not, since my brother crayoned on it.)

The decisions and matchmaking are what short circuit the urge to purge. 

Neighborhood Buy Nothing groups make it easier. You feel good about the matchmaking. The groups are well suited to offloading housewares and furnishings you no longer use. When we got a king bed, someone wanted our queen size mattress and bed frame. All I had to do was snap a photo and post the items. The neighbor who wants your stuff picks it up. No more loading up the car for a trip to Goodwill and driving bags and boxes around for weeks until you do the drop-off. No more staging a tedious garage sale only to find you still have to dispose of what didn’t sell.

Local Buy Nothing groups do a brisk trade in kids’ clothing, toys and equipment. I recently acquired a second booster seat for family dinners and I often scan posts for age-appropriate toys. My granddaughters’ wardrobes are supplemented with barely-worn-before-they’re-outgrown clothes and shoes from active Buy Nothing groups. The amount and quality of free stuff is astonishing. 

People of my generation used to take things to Goodwill or similar charitable organizations. Sometimes I still do—mostly clothes. Recently, an energetic friend’s clean sweep inspired me to pack up a load of clothes and old purses I don’t use. Won’t use. I do feel a bit virtuous. 

But right now, I’d like to purge any additional demands to declutter. Unload all those reminders and the associated guilt. It’s yet another thing that would be good for me . . . that I don’t feel like doing. Besides, the slate doesn’t take up much room in my closet.

Another Crisis

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My family moved from Luxemburg, Wisconsin, population less than 500, to Milwaukee during the summer of 1961. From a grade school with eight grades spread over six classrooms, my brother and I were enrolled in a Catholic elementary school with 150 kids in every grade. We had never seen so many kids. 

The first year was rough on my mother who no longer had a part-time job, a bowling league, or knew the names of everyone in the parish. She didn’t even know the names of women on our block. By the summer of 1962 life could be testy in our household. My great-grandmother moved back to Luxemburg and took me with her at the start of summer. 

Our second school year began with more confidence and my mother found a seasonal job. She was happier. Until October 16 when the beginning of the Cuban Missile Crisis moved the world toward danger. People were deeply afraid that Cold War was morphing into actual war with Russia, including missiles falling on the United States. Adults knew about the horror of war. Kids were directed in useless duck and cover drills, crawling under our desks with our hands over our heads.

My mother wanted to be in our Luxemburg home with its dug-out basement, food cellar and indoor pump. Our Milwaukee ten-year-old ranch offered no place to hide. It was too late to build a bomb shelter. She emptied the clothes closet in a spare room, brought in blankets and pillows, water jugs, crackers, peanut butter and other food plus towels, tissue and a bucket. She listened to the radio constantly. We went to bed fully dressed. October 28, she woke us with orders to get into the closet. Blankets had been placed over window curtains, a rug rolled at the bottom of the door. We listened to news coverage throughout the night. The crisis was averted. Nerves remained raw for years.

We’re back to practicing some odd form of duck and cover. And it is just as useless. The stakes are high for every citizen and much of the world.

Square

Because There’s Not Enough Wine or Chocolate in the World for This

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This has been a tough week for me. Perhaps for you, too. I avoided the inauguration, choosing instead to honor Martin Luther King Jr., truly a man of vision, integrity, and character. Nevertheless, my emotions have been turbulent. What follows is the evolution of my feelings. Feel free to skip to whatever part you need to hear today. 

Frustration 

“Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”  Martin Luther King, Jr. from Strength to Love

The first blog I wrote this week was about my frustration and dismay that so many Trump supporters reject mainstream media and rely on social media and political podcasts to form their views. In other words, user-generated content—someone else’s opinion. Facts are not expected or required.

I struggled to think about how Trump’s supporters could possibly be influenced. How do verifiable truths become accepted again? Certainly not with factual arguments. But experiences can change minds. I hope that when it becomes clear he can’t deliver on his many outrageous promises, some of his supporters (not all–the diehard believers are beyond our influence) will become disillusioned and their disappointment will erode his power.

• • •

Then I thought, maybe WordSisters readers can’t bear another political conversation right now. So the next blog I wrote turned practical. 

Survival Tactics

“The dawn will come. Disappointment, sorrow, and despair are born at midnight, but morning follows.” Martin Luther King, Jr. from Strength to Love

It’s imperative we not give up. But the bombardment of Trump’s awful decisions and destructive actions is hard to cope with. So I thought about sharing my survival tactics. 

1. Focus on your family and friends. This is the sphere where you can have the biggest impact. Talk often, hang out together, plan meals and outings together. Take care of each other.

2. Consume less news. Skimming headlines is fine. When you have limited power to effect change, being informed in a topline way is plenty. Read, listen, or watch news later in the day. Allow the good parts of your day to happen first. Good stuff dilutes the overwhelm. Avoid the many opinion pieces that speculate (Trump might ___. If Trump’s cabinet does this ____ might be at risk). Save your worry and anger for actual events.

I believe in those coping mechanisms, but sometimes the world is too heavy and we need more.

• • •

Inspiration 

What finally helped me the most was focusing on Martin Luther King, Jr.’s wisdom. He continued believing and fighting for years and years regardless of the many hardships and setbacks he and the other civil rights leaders experienced. We can too.

“Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better nation.” Martin Luther King, Jr., from his speech in Memphis the night before he died.

Navigating Life’s Turbulence: Lessons from a Country Walk

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Candidate signs and Halloween decorations needed clearing November 7th along the country road where I walked. My feet moved slower than my thoughts of how to accept election results. 

Five hundred feet ahead, at least a dozen large, wild, turkeys covered the road as well as both shoulders. They can be mean in a standoff. Future concerns fell to immediate safety. Should I turn around, my clap hands, swing a fallen branch to clear a path? Yelling and singing haven’t worked in the past. My walk was over.

Two deer bounded out from woods on one side of the road, gracefully crossed the asphalt, and entered deeper tree growth in beautiful synchrony. The turkeys scurried behind the white tails. Here, then gone. The walk cleared.

 “Awesome” I said out loud at the display of natural beauty. Unattractive turkeys had been swept into a brief glimpse of something amazingly natural on another day of unpleasant election rhetoric and deep discord.

Decades ago, St. Mary’s in Luxemburg, WI began my Christian orientation. Small towns, filled with relatives, made it easier to accept a set of beliefs and traditions. What I still carry is a careful relationship with God. Call it spirituality or faith, old-fashioned or unnecessary, I value the foundation. At the turkey and deer moment, I followed the spoken word with a silent “Thank you, God” for a reminder of good possibilities.

In November, regardless of voting on the winning or losing side, many people remain thankful for family, friends, freedom to have a public opinion. I dread how politics and powerful men with money will affect the quality of life. 

Fear feels like too powerful a word at a time when caution is critical. Fear was two years ago when I had major surgery to save my life. I knew what I feared that day. I could balance fear and hope. Today I can’t name what to fear beyond unpleasant changes. Fear and dread appear in definitions of each word, but fear has a more expansive description. 

I’d love to be one of those deer easily running through the woods. I can accept moving closer to the speed of the wild turkeys shuffling through fallen leaves or awkwardly flying up to their nightly roost. During the day I will keep looking for ways to move the threatening turkeys out of the way of my walk and yours.

Two years of thankfulness. More to come.