What's In Our Future and the Future of our Grandchildren?

I wasn't doing anything unusual for a Wednesday afternoon.   I walked into my utility/laundry room and took a load of wet laundry out of the washer and transferred it to the dryer.   I tossed in a fabric softener sheet and after pressing two buttons, the machine sprang to life and began tumbling the clothes inside.   In less than an hour, they were dry, smelling fresh and clean and ready to fold.  But that is not anything too spectacular or out of the norm around here.    I do this no less than 5 or 6 times a week and sometimes more than that.    I would go so far as to say I take these labor saving devices for granted. 

Which brings me to my next thought.    In my grandmother's day, doing laundry was a big deal.  It required a lot of hard labor for the better part of a day and maybe more than that if it was for a large family.    There was water to be heated, sometimes over a fire located outside.    There were washboards and harsh soaps and a woman was lucky if her hands were not sore and red after doing her family's laundry.    I remember my mother telling me that it was very common to wear things more times than just once....understandably so, given the labor intensive methods used to do the laundry.   

 
 
 



As time went on, machines to do the wash and then wring them out before hanging them on a clothes line came to be the norm for many families.    My mother often told of getting an automatic washer, the kind that had a round window in it so you could see the clothes agitate, when I was born.  With a newborn baby and disposable diapers twenty years away, a washing machine was her idea of heaven on earth!   Twenty something years later, when Larry and I moved to Mobile and bought our first house,  we also got a brand new, avocado green, matching set, Kenmore washer and dryer.   I was thrilled, having done laundry next door at my mother's house and hanging the clothes on the outside clothes line for nearly 10 years.



1948 Westinghouse Washer

I mention all these things to say it's an amazing world we live in.   When I consider the world my grandmothers lived in,  I'm know they wouldn't recognize the digitized, computerized world we live in today.   Our cars all have black boxes and computer chips that control everything from communications to parallel parking.  Many of us carry around portable telephones that are capable of calling just about any place on the planet and can instantly connect us to the internet.   A large portion of us conduct our lives via these small boxes including paying bills, buying everything under the sun and communicating with anyone and everyone.    They don't call them "smart phones" for nothing!  

Imaging the difference between the world I live in today and comparing it even to the life I led as a child is like night and day.    We take it all for granted and our day to day existence is impacted  by the things that inhabit our world from the moment we wake up until we nod off at night.    So it is only natural to wonder---what's next?   Will our world continue to change as much as it has in the time I've been alive?   

Well, I say it sure looks like it will!   A few days ago a young man named Elon Musk,  a truly amazing guy with an imagination that must give him some wild dreams, introduced the world to his latest idea.  Musk is famous for founding Tesla Motor Company and a thing called PayPal, that many of us use regularly to make our purchases safely and easily on the internet.  His idea is called a Hyperloop,  a futuristic concept for transporting people via a high speed tube system between Los Angeles and San Francisco.    It takes the notion of high speed rail and pushes it up a notch or two.     On first read of the 57 page document that outlines his concept, one might be tempted to think he is way out on limb and that it's something that far eclipses our ability to execute.    A capsule inside a tube that hurtles people at 700 mph between cities?   Surely this is the stuff of science fiction?   


Elon Musk's Hyperloop



 



In a word, NO!   It is out of the mind of dreamers like Musk that we got all of the things that currently inhabit our lives.    The first airplanes, automobiles, computers and microwave ovens all had to go through the phases of people thinking they were not serious concepts.    I am sure the first people to actually go airborne in an airplane went aloft with their hearts in their throats.    And so it is with Musk's plan to reinvent how we travel whether it's from one city to another and even to how we will move around the globe....or dare I say it?  Across the galaxy?!   With his plan one might consider that a trip to Australia, currently a 24 hour plus ordeal of planes crisscrossing continents and oceans will be reduced to a few hours in complete comfort and with little or no stress.   We will be able to go there as easily and conveniently as we go to see our Granny  who lives a state or two away from us.   



Gavin at the microscope.

I think it's safe for me to say that the world I live in today is apt to change just as drastically as the world did for my Grandmothers.   We tend to think we live in the epitome of high times and forget that the dreamers and inventors of today are no less curious and imaginative than the Thomas Edisons and Wright Brothers of yesteryear.      The potential and possibilities are endless.



Luci reading & thinking.


So keep your eyes open and pay attention to what's coming.    When my grandchildren look back at how their world has changed, they will view today's best inventions with the same impression we think of the Model T and the washboard and  lye soap.    It will all look so primitive to their eyes.    I hope that the news of Mr. Musk's  plans for the future sparks their imagination, too.      I'd like to think that one of them is thinking right now of something new, unheard of that will change their world in ways we may not be able to fathom.    I sure do hope I live long enough to see their ideas come to life. 



Ben and Brian inventing.



 

 

 

Happy Trails and to my Grandchildren~~~keep on dreaming and thinking of how to change your world!

 

 

Marcia AKA Grammy

Is Your Inner Critic Holding You Back?

In my last post I wrote about being happy.    No doubt about it, finding true happiness often eludes many of us and the ones who do find it may not be fully aware of what combination of things they did to get to that special state of mind.    I think some of the things I discussed last post most definitely figure into the whole process. 
  


To recap:   Making sure you don't put a lot of stress and difficult images into your mind is a place to start.   Keeping abreast of the news is important but determining how much is enough should be a priority.    Taking time to relax and appreciate the beauty around you is another way to ease your way into a more blissful state of mind.  And no matter what strategy you use takes effort on your part.   Getting to a better place mentally won't come looking for you.    You probably are going to have to initiate that task.  If you figure that out, you'll be ahead of the game!  

But truthfully, those are just a few of the strategies you must employ to figure out what works for you.    I guess what may ride over the whole process is a thing called your inner critic.    Those of you who write or paint or have attempted to do something out of your comfort zone know exactly what I am talking about.   It's that nagging little voice way in the back of your head that whispers all the reasons why you can't do something.    It's the thing that convinces you that you're wasting your time and that you should give up.    Often it does an effective job of shutting you down BEFORE you even begin!

Inner critics sometimes start in our childhood.  I suspect that many of us can point to a specific person who influenced us or discouraged us in ways that may have been subtle but effective ways of shutting down the creative or inventive process.    Perhaps it was a demand for perfection so that nothing you did was ever good enough.    Or even a suggestion that the idea was not really yours or original.     Little cuts here and there that may have eroded your confidence in your own ability may have happened at home or in school.    I have examples in  my own life where an elementary school teacher was directly connected to my math phobia that dogged me all the way through graduate school.  And conversely, I had another elementary teacher who instilled in me pride in being such a fast reader.     So there was a mixed bag from early in my life of feeling really insecure about myself and my proficiency with math,  as well as the boost I got from another teacher regarding my ability to read.   


Some of us have parents who were the source of our insecurities and fears about putting our work on display for judgment by others.    And while most parents had no intention of doing us harm, they may have said or done things unwittingly that ended up making us feel less worthy of praise.    Ironically many times that behavior stems from a real desire to see us succeed and just goes awry in the execution.   

So while we sometimes can easily see where that inner critic came from, it's harder to deal with and figure out how to coexist with that little inner voice that fills in for that parent or teacher who brought you together in the first place.     What can be done when you're sitting at the keyboard or the easel feeling the urge to be "creative"?   What can you do when you're asked to be a speaker at your club or church and your knees immediately begin to shake and go to Jell-O under you?   How about when you're offered a promotion or position of leadership?    How can you stop the negative thoughts from filling you with self doubt?  


First you have to have mechanisms in place to help you when the self doubt creeps in and dominates the thought processes.    My older sister, Charlotte, was a woman of many talents.   She was smart, she could sing, a natural born leader.    There was not much she attempted in her life that she didn't do and do very well.    But she struggled with insecurity and negative self talk about many things.     One of her many talents was her ability to sew.    I don't mean simple projects that you learn in Home Ec.    She took on things like lined suits, prom dresses for her daughter and new drapes for her living room.     Many people looked at her work in complete awe of what she made with her own two hands!  

The problem for Charlotte was that her insecurity made her focus on the glaring flaws that she was sure were  there for all to see.     No matter how many people told her that what she had made was lovely or a great execution of the project, her eyes would zoom to the one spot that she perceived was not quite right.    Eventually, she developed a technique for dealing with this that worked like a charm.    Once she completed a dress or a pair of slacks, she immediately would put the project on a hanger and put it in the closet for a few days.   And she left it there until she was ready to take the new creation out for inspection when she knew she would have a less critical eye.    The time spent letting it hang in the closet served as a buffer for her so that when she looked at it again,  she saw the whole outfit and not just the places she thought weren't right.  



So a strategy for those who struggle with their creations, whether it's a painting or a poem is to put it aside for a few days after it is completed.     Don't think about it, don't evaluate it during that time.    Then after sufficient time has passed, bring it out and look at it with new eyes.    I have done this with things I have written and been surprised to find that I actually like what I find, even if I put it away thinking it was worthless.   


 Another way to deal with inner critics telling you that you're not any good, you have no talent or you're wasting your time is to learn to recognize that it's the voice in your head telling you these things.  No one else.  Are you putting off doing a project?    Are you finding OTHER things to do that take you away from what you intended to do?    Are you putting other priorities to the head of the list of things you want to do so that your special project is still in the mix but just never seems to get done?  Maybe what's going on is that you are hearing that voice but are not recognizing its impact on what you are doing.  The inner critic can and will steer you astray --- if you let it.
     

Start paying attention to the voice and have a conversation with yourself.    Is what the voice is telling you true?    And even if it is true, does it really matter if what you want to do is important to you?    There comes a time in all of our lives when we have to stand up to inner critics that tell us we're not good enough, not talented enough or that what we want isn't important.     You may have to come to a point where you're willing to banish the inner critic and do what you want anyhow.   

If you are serious about tackling the inner critic in your head, there are many books, websites and self help materials to give you even more strategies to try.    In addition to those resources, you will find that there are professionals who specialize in helping people reach their full potential.   A quick Google search will probably bring you more things than you can read in a month.    The trick is to recognize what's going on in your head and figure how where you need to go from there.   Identifying the problem is a start and how you solve it has many solutions.




 
As I said in the beginning, a search for happiness is not easy and can be a complex matter.   If you want to succeed in getting to a happier place in your life, it may involve pushing yourself to do or think in new ways.   If you have an inner critic that is holding you back or making things harder for you, it may be time to think about what YOU want and how to get around the obstacles.      Find the courage to face up to them and think about what's waiting for you if you get the nerve to just go for it.    You may be surprised at what you find and what you can do.   

Happy Trails,
Marcia

The Happy Camper Confesses All....

Well, to be honest, I have been missing in action around here for some time.    No excuses other than time flies and it's easy to put things off or ignore what needs attention.   That in no way means I haven't had things swirling around in my head that should have somehow made it to this page.    So here I am again.   Maybe some of what I'm thinking today will resonate with you.

It's been said by some that I am "the proverbial happy camper".    My inclination is to hunt for the silver lining and I've been known to find some bizarre glimmers of hope even when in a dire situation.    I recall sitting in the waiting room before my first radiation treatment and my sister and I were engaging in a little "gallows humor" by wryly opining that there might be a chance I'd glow in the dark when they got finished with me.     We both laughed at that notion and for a moment we could forget why I was there in the first place.    A moment of levity and humor can help take the sting out of almost anything. 

  

But the real truth is that I am as subject to dark nights of the soul, endless self-analysis and moments of pure self pity---just like many of you who will read this blog post.    As much as I would like to characterize myself as a happy camper, I know that it takes a lot of effort and tricks on my part to pull myself out of the doldrums and get to that happy place.    It doesn't just happen naturally, although I confess if you do the tricks long enough, they start to become more natural to you.  

I've been thinking about those tricks and methods I use on a regular basis.    What has worked for me? Are there things I do for myself that I think someone else might find useful in their journey to a happier place?   The truth of the matter is we live in a difficult world and we can use all the help we can muster to figure our way through a tangled and Byzantine path.   Indeed, whole books have been written on living a happier life, dealing with adversity and just achieving a sense of peace.   

My intent today is certainly not that grandiose or meant to be a complete guide to that mythical place called happiness.   It is meant to be a starting place for you to begin unraveling the tangled mess to something that works for you.    Not everything I suggest will work, but maybe one little trick, one idea will prod you to take the first step.   

First, I believe it's important to look at what you surround yourself with on a day to day basis.    Do you fill your head with negative information?    Are you saturated with compelling news stories that make you worried and afraid for your personal safety?     Do you spend too much time dwelling on things that you cannot control?    These are not strategies that will take you from misery to happiness.   In fact, they are a guarantee you will get more of the same.    So inventory what you put into your head.     This is not a suggestion to eliminate the nightly news or to never keep up with what's going on around you.     The idea is to take it in measured doses and then stop when you begin to obsess about it or fret too much.   

 

Second, finding joy in your life takes a bit of effort sometimes and you need to realize that it can be right under your very nose and you will miss it.     If you stay focused on negativity, the good, positive things that are there for the taking will elude you.     Start right in your own backyard.   

Yesterday I was walking through the family room and happened to walk over to the back door.    It is all glass so I was looking out in the backyard not expecting to see much of anything that isn't always there.     I stood there looking for no more than a few seconds when I noticed a flash of red feathers go streaking through the back flower bed.    Moments later I saw that it was two birds who were obviously searching for bugs among the plants.   They put on quite the show as they flitted and swooped among the plants, pecking and hunting for the tiniest morsel of buggy goodness!   I couldn't help myself and literally laughed out loud when I saw them.    It was such a small moment of unexpected joy, but it made my day!  

Third, finding the unexpected nuggets of joy make involve taking you out of your back yard.  Some extra effort may have to be put forth on your part.   I was looking on Facebook the other day when I noticed some photographs posted by my niece while she was visiting in Yosemite National Park.   She and her family were spending a leisurely moment taking in the grandeur of Glacier Point and I must admit the view was breath taking.    It was one of those moments that will stand out in their memory with or without the photographs to refresh their recall of the majesty.    When you travel and observe the beauty of the world around you, that's a fantastic way to lift your spirits and find some inner peace.

But you may be saying to yourself, "I don't have the money or the time to go to Yosemite."   What do you do then?    The eternal pessimist would go into a blue funk (a state my father used to mention) and then wallow there for a while.    If you are determined to not go there, the simple solution is right there in your hometown.    Every place, no matter how dismal or mundane has its places of beauty or historical value.    Do you live near a body of water?    A lake, river or ocean?   For many of us, watching the action of the water is in itself a soothing and calming remedy for a troubled soul.    A few minutes spent in quiet contemplation can help erase a month's worth of misery and turmoil.    How about a trip to the zoo?   Or a botanical garden?     Those are places that typically don't cost much to visit or may even be free.    The thing is you have to put forth the effort to find them and take advantage of what they can do for you and your need to find some respite to quiet your mind.  

 

A sunny day at Pensacola Beach near Ft. Pickens

 

I happen to live within a 20 to 30 minute drive of the Gulf of Mexico.    Not only is it a body of water with never ending movement, but it also affords the most fantastic views of sunrise and sunset you could ever imagine.    The icing on that cake is that we have the world's whitest sand on our beaches.    It isn't called SUGAR sand for nothing.    We can take a beach chair, a picnic lunch and my camera and we are privy to a lifestyle that many will never know.    And it only takes a few minutes to get there and a bit of gasoline.    It's worth every penny, too.    Watching eagles and ospreys on their nests and the turtles come to the surface of their little bayou to watch what I am doing is an amazing thing to see.    It reminds you of your place in this world and compels you to be grateful for things available to you, big and small.  That little piece of paradise that is only a few miles from my house is there day and night.   Any time I get too self absorbed and too focused on things that take me down, I can hop in my car and drive to that place that will make those negative things fade away.    

 

Are you looking at me?   Or am I looking at you?

I guess I could go on with more things like turn off the TV once in a while.   Step away from your computer and give your brain cells a rest.    Put your phone down or better yet, turn it off.    You have voice mail for a reason so if someone calls with something you really need to know, you will get the message.   Just maybe an hour later than they planned for you to get it.   But that hour you spend doing something to restore your sanity, to bring peace and calmness to your soul is far more important than being the first to hear some juicy bit of news.   

 

The thing is, those opportunities for us to renew and restore our sense of happiness really are there for us to find and use.    But they won't come in search of us.    We have to open our eyes, ears and hearts to find them.   Those lovely cardinals who were dancing among my flowers in my back yard did not issue an invitation for me to watch.    In fact, I am pretty sure they were totally unaware of  my prying eyes.    It was up to me to pause long enough to even realize they were there.    But oh, the reward that was mine for lingering just a moment or two longer at that door to see their light hearted display.  It was just the tonic I needed to make me realize (once more) that the world really is NOT all bad.    For we humans tend to have short memories and we need to be reminded again and again of this fact.  

So I challenge you to look for ways to bring some oomph to your life.   A little bit of joy to make you smile and remember the good things that are a part of your life.    Not every day will be a stellar one.   Not everything that you have to deal with as part of our life story will be easy and without pain.   But to balance out the bad parts, you can and should look for ways to pull yourself back toward the center.   I can't guarantee you will end up as a happy camper, but I can tell you that what you find is worth what effort you put forth to get there.  There is a saying I hear a lot lately:  the definition of insanity is to do the same things over and over and then expect different results.     Maybe what you need is a change of direction, a new plan and then you might get the results you are after.  

Happy Trails,
Marcia

Wishes Fulfilled: Repairing and Expanding the Tapestry We Call Life

Many times over the past few years, my niece, Rebecca, and I have lamented the fact that our already small family has shrunk even more.     We discuss this because when we have a "family gathering" we literally can rent one house with maybe 5 or 6 bedrooms and that seems to be enough to contain our immediate (non-extended) family.     As people close to us have died, we are reminded once again that  "we're all we've got".      Rebecca and I have said that so much to each other it has almost become a joke.

And yet there is some sad irony in that because we do have a few extended family members that are "out there" somewhere scattered across the country.    I have an inkling where to find some of them but others are well beyond the scope of my limited sleuthing abilities.     Over the years we've had contact with a few cousins from my mother's side of the family and one very short lived contact with a cousin from my dad's side.    Beyond that, I didn't have a clue where to look for anyone else whose name I could bring up.   Then out of the blue someone found ME.    

As some of you know, I have a kind of love-hate relationship with Facebook.    On the one hand it provides almost immediate (and sometimes REAL TIME) access to things my grandchildren are doing.   Comments with my daughter-in-law regarding "what's for dinner" bounce back and forth across cyberspace in the blink of an eye.   That's the part that is fun and makes me go back to FB several times a day.     The not so nice side of FB is that the site can and does do weird things occasionally like completely change the look of the  page that allegedly is "yours".    They also apparently can gather lots of random bits and pieces about your life that they can do with as they please.     And furthermore, if you're not careful with your settings, you can put yourself out on the internet for lots and lots of unwelcome attention.     So while my love affair is sometimes tepid, I have entered this relationship with a degree of caution.  

So having said that, Facebook is also the great connector of people from our past.     The long and difficult task of digging up people who were classmates, room mates, co-workers, fraternity brothers, neighbors, former ministers and yes, even family members has become much less of a chore.     One can literally type in a name and voila!    You will be pleasantly surprised to get a long list of people by that name.    If you're lucky, you might get a location to go with that name.    And with all the stars lined up, you might get a way to contact that person to see if they are, indeed, the person you are seeking.   

Imagine my surprise when a couple of weeks ago I happened to catch (almost out of the corner of my eye) a message on my FB page that said someone had sent me a message.    The name was instantly recognizable as one of my cousins on my dad's side of the family.     I quickly clicked on the link and to my amazement, she was reaching out to me and was  interested in re-establishing our connection as relatives.     I responded to her request with surprise and delight at this turn of events because suddenly, with no effort on my part, those wispy bonds of connection became a little bit firmer and visible.

We exchanged a flurry of messages back and forth and finally got each other's email address and we have been exchanging family stories, legend and lore, history and chronicles of our lives from when we last were even in the same room together.     So much time has passed and we each have almost a lifetime of events to exchange.    The last time we had a conversation, her son was a baby, my son was  in early grade school.     She has moved numerous times, as I have, too.     Her life has had drama and complications.   Mine has, as well.   There has been much joy for each of us, along with the sorrow and tragedy.   Like all lives, we've had a mix of bitter and sweet.     And we have only begun to do the catching up that we want to do. 

Why am I writing about this today?    The reason is partly because the reconnection with Cindy is a wish fulfilled for me.   I have thought long and hard about the lack of information to my family history.     Rebecca and I have discussed this endlessly about how the people who could answer so many questions we have are now gone.   We have found bits and pieces of our past but have had no one who could fill in a few details.     Having Cindy's information and perspective on what she remembers is like opening up a diary and finding out what a key family member thought.    She is privy to knowledge passed on to her by her father and her personal experiences with our grandmother and aunt.    The good news she is willing to share what she remembers.

She also has photographs of family members that I have wished a thousand times I had and could not find to save my life.    She told me yesterday that she is sending an album and some loose pictures to me that will be in here in a day or two.   To me, photographs are like a window back in time and I can hardly wait to see what I find.     One of the tasks is to try to identify who some of the people are in the pictures.    A bigger goal, one that I have already started envisioning, is a photobook with some of the pictures combined with some of the ones I have and stories that go along with the photographs.    Cindy and I have exchanged some of the family stories and we both have said that there are more.  I want some of them preserved for my grandchildren and for hers.     

There is one more reason for writing about this that I want to state clearly and plainly to Cindy and others who read this.      Having a connection back to my past has helped fill a kind of empty place in my heart.     It was not anything that I acknowledged but since reconnecting with Cindy, I have noticed that the feeling has receded just a little.     It was a feeling akin to loneliness and perhaps sadness that exists when the usual things that are found there are in such short supply.  

Our lives are like a tapestry woven together with many connections and events across time.    When you rediscover a thread that was there and then dropped out, it helps repair that tapestry to be stronger and, yes, prettier, when that thread is rewoven back into the whole of the piece.    I truly want to thank Cindy for making the effort to find me and other family members.     That empty spot in my heart has shrunk a little bit or more accurately has started to fill in with the knowledge that some  of my extended family connections that I thought were gone really are alive and well.     It feels good to know that we have a slightly bigger family than we did a few weeks ago and that together we're still here for each other, still able to recall the names and the faces of those who went before us.     It makes me feel good to know this and I hope it did the same for her!  

Happy Trails,

Marcia    

Listen Up, People! Fall Is Coming!

Alright, I know by the calendar, we're still several more weeks away from the official arrival of fall.  And where I live, even if the calendar says so, doesn't MAKE it so!   So how, you might ask, how can I be so sure that fall really is  a comin'.     

Well, yesterday when Larry brought in the mail, he brought with him proof positive that Fall 2012 is right around the corner.     He casually tossed the pile of mail in my chair, but I knew as soon as I scanned that pile that it was true.   There amongst the pamphlets from Holland America tempting me with another cruise, the newsletter from our local Food Bank, a free offer from American Express for an appointment book and desk set was all the proof I needed to set my heart aflutter!    Yes, it was the Early Fall 2012 Edition of the Blair catalog!   

I was so thrilled to have this wonderful piece of news come tumbling out of my mail box, that I set it aside temporarily until I could really examine it's pages, gaze upon the turtlenecks, corduroy pants, fleece jackets and demi-boots offered for sale. And with FREE SHIPPING yet! Pinch me, I'm dreaming!  You see, nothing announces the arrival of fall to me like the fall fashions that immediately transports us out of the tee shirts and shorts of summer, the neon and pastel shades better suited to 99 degree days and straight into the bluer skies and crisper air that is only experienced in the fall.  

When people are asked what their favorite season is, invariably, they will tell you it is either the spring or the fall.   Oh, I guess there are probably a few die-hards out there who actually LIKE the summer or prefer the winter.    But do we look for signs of either of these seasons?   Not really.    The ones we look for, hope for and long for are spring and fall.    We look eagerly for the first robins of spring.   Those first few shoots of green or dandelions in the lawn.    And for fall, well, we eagerly anticipate the first cool days, the smell of burning oak or hickory and yes, even something so simple, and yet predictive, as a catalog in the mail box.    

I ask myself why do I love the fall so much?    By rights I could really not like it.    For it was on a bright, crisp fall day in November 1967, one day after my 18th birthday that we buried my father.    I still remember the dress I wore that day, the surreal way everything felt and looked.   I actually thought for a minute that day that time stood still and that we'd be standing in that cemetery forever right there with him.     I never imagined that my life and the life of  my family would move on to have the experiences both good and bad that would come our way.   

And so I look up today and realize how much time has passed by, how far away that place is where he is buried, both in miles and in memory.    It is that knowledge why I love the fall so much.     It reminds me of the passage of time, the never ending flow to life.     Time, as they say, marches on.    The fall urges me to reflect, to recount the good times, as well as the bad.   It calls me to account with what I've done with my life because the chapter I am in is about to close and another will begin shortly.    

More important, however, than just reflecting and reminiscing, I think the fall is our opportunity to renew our commitment to life.   It is our chance, one last chance before this year is done, to realign our priorities and try one more time to get things right.    Life is a struggle for every one of us.    None of us has the answer to every question and what I find that works for me may not be right for someone else. I guess the important thing to remember is that it is our journey that matters, our attempts to figure out the big questions that should be guide posts.     When I anticipate the arrival of fall, I look with eagerness to the opportunity to make closing arguments for this chapter, while jotting down the opening remarks for the next one to follow.

I hope you find the time this fall to reflect on your year and the things you've done to make your story count.     If you find that somehow, you just didn't quite make it go the way you intended, that is the beauty of the fall.  It's the time to plan, to think, to dream.    

I have a bag of mulling spices ready to make a steaming mug of cider, my order to that catalog will be on its way soon.     I'm watching for those first hints of turning leaves and the smell of wood burning in a fireplace.    And soon, very soon, I'll be pondering what it means to be alive and living in such interesting and amazing times.    I'll be examining my life and figuring out what comes next.    Hope you get to do the same!



Happy Fall (It's coming.   It really is.)

Marcia

Working for a Living: A long tradition of labor

When I was a little girl and we would go to Memphis to see my grandparents, I couldn't help but notice a heavy, metal doorstop in my paternal grandmother's home.    It was shaped like a sailing ship, painted bright gold.  The story I was always told about it was that it was made by my grandfather because his occupation was iron molder.    



 

 

I never knew my paternal grandfather, William M. Treadway,  and just heard stories about "Pop" from my own father and Uncle Bill about their dad.   He was a hard drinking, hard working man from all the accounts I ever heard.    One of the more memorable stories my Grandmother told me was that when she was only 15 years old, Pop and one of his working buddies passed by her house, saw her sitting on the front porch  and declared then and there that he was going to marry her some day.    Never mind the fact that they had never even met formally.    And yes, they did marry---eloped a short time after that.   

 

Lura Grey Treadway, GrannyT.  2nd from Left, Top Row
Annie Gorley Treadway, Pop's Mother, 2nd from Right, Top Row
William Gorley Treadway "Pop"  Far Right, Bottom Row
Watermelon Time 1904



For a while Pop worked on the railroad out west and Granny worked as a cook for Pop and his fellow workers.     They tried to homestead in Colorado but eventually that was a dream they abandoned to return to Memphis.      Pop was employed as an iron molder and from all the stories I've been told about him he was a hard worker until his untimely death at age fifty-six  in 1941.  

  

Since I never knew him except in some really old, faded photographs and family legend and lore, I can only imagine what he was like and what his hard working hands must have looked like.   Given the nature of his work, I see large, calloused hands, dirt embedded in his fingers that no amount of scrubbing could ever completely remove.    He wore a working man's clothing, probably dungarees and a heavy shirt of some kind to help protect against the hot cinders that were probably part of his every day work place.    Heavy lines marked his face from constant exposure to heat and fumes from the work he did.    He worked long before there was such a thing as OSHA or EPA and workmen in those days were frequently exposed to hazards that would surely be outlawed today for their protection.   

  

And as I sat thinking about him on this Labor Day 2012, it made me think of all the other people in my family who worked hard, labored in difficult, sometimes dangerous jobs.    A few were able to benefit from higher education and went into fields like education and became teachers, nurses and worked in management, like my father did.   My maternal grandfather worked for the phone company stringing telephone line that came to a spectacular end when he was electrocuted, thrown from the pole and spent 180 days in a hospital recovering from injuries to nearly every bone in his body.    He later worked for the Memphis Police Department in dispatch.     My grandmother's brother,  C. W.  "Red" Gardner was in the military through several wars and eventually worked for the Memphis Fire Department.    My Uncle Charlie worked for the Illinois Central Rail Road, starting out at age 15 and eventually becoming an engineer on the IC line.  My mother fulfilled a life long dream of becoming a nurse by returning to school and was a Registered Nurse.   Her last position was with the Veteran's Adminstration caring for aged veterans who needed a caring heart and kind word in their final years.   They, too, provided a different kind of labor for our nation, but one that is much appreciated and lauded on other holidays throughout our year.    

  

Granny Treadway was widowed in 1941 and had to supplement her income, but with no education or training, she did the only thing she really knew how to do.  She went to work for a department store in Memphis doing alterations.   Her daughter, Blanche, worked for S.C. Toof and Company, commercial printers.   I can still remember her hands that were permanently stained with black printer's ink and the finger cot she wore on one finger to help when she thumbed through stacks of papers.     One brother worked for the newspaper, the Press-Scimitar in Memphis, as a proof reader and another worked in Washington DC for the Congressional Record in the printing division.    A younger brother went into Musical Ministry and served many churches through out his career.    

And so it is that I look back at a long line of hard working men and women who worked at a time when there were few laws protecting them from injury and getting a good wage was fraught with difficulties, too.     Some of these people were union members, others were not.    Without question, all were people who knew the meaning of work and didn't shy away from hard labor.    They helped build this country we live in today and I look with pride back on their contribution whether it was working in hot, dirty jobs , walking up and down the corridors of a hospital or crusading for higher wages and better benefits for the working people across the United States.   

Today is Labor Day.  It has become a day to drag out the bar-b-que grill and ice down some drinks, make potato salad and relax on the patio.   It is often a day off for those who are employed in all the various occupations that it takes to make our country function.  Let us not forget that it is our kinfolk that built the workforce of yesteryear and the workers of today who build the cars, deliver the mail, teach the young, care for the sick and pave our roads.  It will be the generation growing up now that will move this country on  through the 21st century and into the next.  

We owe our gratitude to those who came before us and made it possible for many of us to have a better standard of living and hope for a better life style.   While you're grilling those burgers and eating that potato salad, please take a few moments to remember your heritage and the people who brought us  this far and thank the ones who are going to take us forward for many more years. 

Happy Labor Day 2012!   (A proud American tradition since 1882)



Happy Trails,

Marcia

Music: Can You Name That Tune in Three Notes?

Ok, I admit it.    I am sentimental and sometimes cry about stuff for no good reason.    Or at least one that is not obvious to me right off the bat.    So the other night when I was reading one of the blogs I follow, I saw a link to a song from my past.    It was Arlo Guthrie singing " The City of New Orleans".    Someone else had commented that when they went to the link and watched it they cried.   And I thought, "Yea, I bet you did."   Then I clicked on the link and was barely into the Youtube video when I found myself singing along and crying like I was two years old.   

Yep, it happened to me, too.   And that made me start thinking and you know what a dangerous thing that can be.   Oh, but I kid about that, because actually I am a big advocate of thinking.   It can lead you in directions you never knew you'd go, but hey, it IS what is supposed to separate us from the rest of the animal kingdom, right?  (Although I have seen and read some things lately that are making me begin to wonder and doubt the common wisdom on THAT.    But that's for another blog post, not this one.)    

So as I was sitting there singing and crying, it occurred to me that music is such a powerful force in our lives and that if there is something universal in this world, it is the power of music to touch us, inspire us and maybe even make us better human beings.    Well, I might be hoping for too much on that last thing, but for sure, music does touch us and activates parts of our brain that maybe we aren't even aware we have.     Back before I retired, I used to read a lot of stuff regarding the brain since it directly applied to my line of work.   And if there is anything that came out of all that reading, it is that there is so much more to learn about our brain.....we've only begun to scratch the surface of what there is to know about it.   It truly is a vast frontier of the unexplored, but hopefully knowable, essence of what makes us human.   

As I read and began to have a greater appreciation for our brain,  it became very clear to me that there are forces around us that make us act and think in certain ways.   And one of those is music.     The very act of listening to a familiar song can evoke such powerful memories or feelings that one could almost burst with sheer joy or sob uncontrollably for being reminded of something bygone and faded into the mists of time.     Likewise, the act of creating or playing music can be such a healing and life changing thing that the urge to do this often starts at a very early age.    


I can't help but think of my oldest grandson, Gavin.    When he was a wee tike, who had to have help to get up on the piano bench, he would sit up there, bouncing up and down, moving his hands up and down the keys, pretending to be playing the piano.    He had a certain movement in his shoulders that indicated he had a clear vision of how one moves when performing at the piano.    We often laughed at his cute attempts to play the piano, little realizing that in a few short years, he would keep that desire to make music alive by taking, first, guitar lessons and then moving on
to learn how to play the piano.  Today he is a budding performer who entertains us at family gatherings,   inspires people at his church and like most teenagers, has dreams of taking his skills to the professional stage some day.   I hope he succeeds because making music is so important to him and I know one of his greatest desires is to share his gifts and talents by writing and performing music.   

Another story about the power of music was related to me by Larry.    A few years ago he volunteered with a group of people who went to nursing homes and facilities who care for severely disabled adults.    Many of these people live a life that most of us could never imagine.     And we're pretty good at hiding these people, not because we're cruel or indifferent to their plight, but because it is painful and difficult to see the hand that they were dealt and not wonder if life has some unexpected surprises for us, too.    So this group of volunteers would try to overcome their own reluctance to see a side to life that some would avoid to try to bring a little joy and fun into the lives of the people who lived in the home.       Many were wheelchair bound with ailments that rendered them incapable of walking.    Some had brains that were horrendously malformed so that there was little or no hope of anything close to normal functioning.     Some were just really old and dementia had taken its toll on their minds.      A sad group of life's survivors to be sure.    

Well, having strung you along to this sad place, I need to turn to what happened next.   And this is where a little miracle took place that should make you never doubt the power of music to transform a life, if only for a short while.     With their canned music and portable keyboard, Larry and that small group of singers began to sing a familiar hymn.     It doesn't matter what it was.   It could have been The Old Rugged Cross or Down by the Riverside.   No matter.   It's what happened when one little lady in particular heard the notes drift her way.     There she was on a type of gurney, sprawled backward, staring up at the ceiling, no recognition on her face or in her eyes that she even knew where she was or that there was even anyone else in that room with her.    And then.....all of sudden, she sat bolt upright and began smiling and swaying along to the music.    It was as if something reanimated her poor broken body and mind to awaken anew.     And the whole time they were singing the song that touched something in her time ravaged brain, she smiled and almost glowed with the sheer joy of hearing that familiar song that brought her back to this world again for a few minutes.   

I have often thought of this story when I hear a song on the radio or the music that takes us on a journey when we watch a movie.     Is there anyone who can listen to the soundtrack from the movie Jaws and not be instantly transported back to the time you first saw that film??   It's the music that  did it, not the images, although they are powerful, too.  Those first few strains of that ominous musical interlude were used to properly prepare us for what was coming next.    Who says music can't move you?  It can lift you out of despair, scare the heck out of you or take you soaring to new heights of inspiration.  Or even just take a sentimental journey back in time.  

Finally, one last personal story about the power of music and this one is my own.     Twenty two years ago I was engaged in one of the most serious battles of my life.    I had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was about to embark on the treatment plan that took more than a year to complete and is probably the reason I am alive and sitting here today writing this blog.   My doctors had recommended a course of treatment that included surgery, followed by six weeks of radiation therapy and then ten months of chemotherapy.      It was a long and stressful event in my life, but one that forever changed me and helped make me into who I am today.    

As I was going to get chemo every week, I began a to see quite a few of my fellow travelers (aka Cancer Survivors) bringing boom boxes with them on the days they got their IV treatments.    A few who were more technologically advanced even had Walkmans.   Ipods were still many years away from being a reality back then.     And I read in journals and information for patients that listening to music was proving to be a great way to get through treatment and help deal with stress and uncertainty.    So I decided I would give it a whirl since treatments could be and often were times of difficulty for me.     

I had a few CDs since they were a rather new item at the time and I had cassette tapes.   My choices tended to go toward New Age music, but I was definitely not above listening to Huey Lewis and the News when the mood struck me.     I discovered right away that listening to the music had a very profound affect on my mood, my heartbeat and my stress level.   One particular artist, Andreas Vollenweider, was one I listened to time after time.   To this day, there is one track on one of his albums that I can hear and will instantly relax and begin to feel calm inside.      He plays harp and I have promised myself if I ever get the chance to hear him in person, I will go since I am pretty sure it will be a high point in my life.    As an aside about this, I wrote to him when I was in the middle of treatment to tell him how much his music meant to me and that I hoped he would continue to bring his gifts and talents to the world since I felt he was making a huge difference for so many people.    And if you can believe it, I got a handwritten reply from this man that I have still in an album.    I will never forget the kindness of this international star for writing to me, just an ordinary fan who took the time to write to him about the value and impact of his music on my life.    

So to tie all of this up in a neat package, I say to anyone who takes the time to read this, if you're searching for a way to find comfort or peace, music can be your friend.     If you want something to evoke powerful memories and maybe even inspiration, look to your musical library (or Youtube).    If you are trying to set a mood (think of Jaws!), music will do the trick.     And for goodness sake, if you are musically inclined, MAKE music for your own amusement and amazement.  Do it for any willing audience.   But just do it.     The power of music has been proven to us over and over and it is up to us to figure out ways to bring it into our lives for all the many paths we can explore using that power.   

P.S.  The track I was referring to that I so loved back then and still listen to is on an album called:
Andreas Vollenweider Trilogy.  The track is an extra one called "Pace Verde". The You Tube link is below and when I listened to it a few minutes ago...yep....I cried, but boy, was I relaxed!

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CBjLj0EOAV4?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Happy Trails,

Marcia