Recently someone forwarded me a list of life lessons a 90-year-old journalist had published again after many requests for the column. It was a very insightful list of things to remember as you go through life. I’d love to share it here but haven’t been able to find the woman to get permission. In the meantime, I’ve come up with a few of my own insights to share – not nearly as meaningful, but perhaps helpful to the over 50 crowd.
1. If your daughter asks to borrow something you wear regularly, give it to her. It’s obviously not age-appropriate for you. The only exceptions would be earrings.
2. Past the age of fifty, allot 10 percent of your mental energy and time to finding things, remembering why you came into a room and picking up things that seem to fall with no help from you at all. If you plan on it, you won’t be nearly as frustrated by it. Instead, you’ll find yourself chalking it up to your very clever plan.
3. If, by chance, you live or adventure in a motor home, be sure to buy a box of those surgical gloves (you can find them in drugstores) to wear when you dump your sewage tank so you won’t have to spend the next seven days wondering if you have managed to contaminate yourself.
4. When you are lucky enough to spend time with people under the age of 25 leave all your comments about the younger generation behind and just try to enjoy their energy. It’s better than a drink from the fountain of youth.
5. Don’t weigh yourself down with things you’re done with but worry that the kids might want someday when you kick off. Have a family yard sale and drag all that stuff out to the driveway. If they want it, they’ll let you know and take it home right then. Problem solved, space saved.
6. Give things away, in general. There’s always someone you know who collects coffee cups or treasures a perfume you just can’t wear or reads voraciously. Except for truly exceptional books, what are you saving them for? You’ll feel lighter with every item you send back out into the Universe.
7. Cherish every piece of love and affection that comes your way.
8. This is the time in life when you don’t have to examine everything to make sure it fits just right, that it’s acceptable to everyone in the world. If it feels good and it isn’t hurting anyone – go for it.
That’s it, for now, except that I advise buying the surgical gloves anyway. You never know when you’ll need to do something that will leave you feeling a little yucky – heaving the neighbor’s dog’s “gift” back over his fence, for instance. I’m just saying.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Passive-Aggressors and How to Survive Them
You’ve run into this type, even if you haven’t known the correct name for them. Most everyone displays some kind of passive aggression, but these folks make it their “normal” behavior.
How to spot a passive aggressive type, who I’ll call Patty for this exercise:
• Look for a fake smile plastered on Patty’s face while she delivers a criticism disguised as a joke, making it more difficult to challenge her snide remark.
• Patty is almost always the last to voice their objections, after taking the temperatures of others, and usually wait until it’s too late to do anything about them to say anything. You’re already at the Chinese restaurant when she tells the group that she’s “allergic” to Chinese food.
• Patty can usually be found lying in wait until there is a crowd around to attack. There’s safety in numbers. She gets the benefit of making the other guy look like a fool, and usually walks away without the angry response she might get if she and her prey weren’t in the company of others.
• Patty is a pro at finding small ways to sabotage the efforts of others, but making it look like she’s in full support of them. Sly comments breed suspicions in co-workers or family members, undermining the effectiveness of the one in charge of a project or event.
• Basically, Patty is a poop with the skills it takes to hide that fact.
How can you handle the Pattys in your life? While, there are two tactics I’ve found that work very well, if you can manage to contain your irritation long enough.
One is to refuse to engage. When you get the “joke” comment from Patty, walk away or just look back at her as blankly as you possibly can. This will create an uncomfortable tension that is exactly what Patty has been trying to avoid by coming at you in a passive way.
The other is to rise above it all and be very direct. For instance, if suddenly, after all the decisions have been made and the reservations placed for the Chinese restaurant and you’re all sitting down to a meal Patty drops her allergy on the group, take a moment to focus on her, then ask as emotion-free as possible, “Why didn’t you say something before?” Patty will be surprised and probably fumble to find some answers that usually revolve around martyrdom like “I didn’t want to spoil everyone’s fun.” If she pulls that one out, you might want to counter with “Interesting.” That will leave her nonplussed.
Essentially, taking the invisible wind out of Patty’s invisible sails once or twice will alter her behavior because it isn’t getting the desired results.
Good luck. This may be one of the most useful life lessons I ever pass on to you.
How to spot a passive aggressive type, who I’ll call Patty for this exercise:
• Look for a fake smile plastered on Patty’s face while she delivers a criticism disguised as a joke, making it more difficult to challenge her snide remark.
• Patty is almost always the last to voice their objections, after taking the temperatures of others, and usually wait until it’s too late to do anything about them to say anything. You’re already at the Chinese restaurant when she tells the group that she’s “allergic” to Chinese food.
• Patty can usually be found lying in wait until there is a crowd around to attack. There’s safety in numbers. She gets the benefit of making the other guy look like a fool, and usually walks away without the angry response she might get if she and her prey weren’t in the company of others.
• Patty is a pro at finding small ways to sabotage the efforts of others, but making it look like she’s in full support of them. Sly comments breed suspicions in co-workers or family members, undermining the effectiveness of the one in charge of a project or event.
• Basically, Patty is a poop with the skills it takes to hide that fact.
How can you handle the Pattys in your life? While, there are two tactics I’ve found that work very well, if you can manage to contain your irritation long enough.
One is to refuse to engage. When you get the “joke” comment from Patty, walk away or just look back at her as blankly as you possibly can. This will create an uncomfortable tension that is exactly what Patty has been trying to avoid by coming at you in a passive way.
The other is to rise above it all and be very direct. For instance, if suddenly, after all the decisions have been made and the reservations placed for the Chinese restaurant and you’re all sitting down to a meal Patty drops her allergy on the group, take a moment to focus on her, then ask as emotion-free as possible, “Why didn’t you say something before?” Patty will be surprised and probably fumble to find some answers that usually revolve around martyrdom like “I didn’t want to spoil everyone’s fun.” If she pulls that one out, you might want to counter with “Interesting.” That will leave her nonplussed.
Essentially, taking the invisible wind out of Patty’s invisible sails once or twice will alter her behavior because it isn’t getting the desired results.
Good luck. This may be one of the most useful life lessons I ever pass on to you.
I'm Back!
There have been a couple of inquiries lately as to when I planned on getting back to my blogs. Well, today’s the day! Although, I won’t post this until Monday, I’m sitting in Wanda, my RV, enjoying an absolutely beautiful Sunday. It can’t be more than 85 degrees, if that, at least here under the trees.
Having returned from vacation in Arizona three weeks ago, I’ve really appreciated the climate here. It was already 105 degrees in Phoenix on Memorial Day, but my daughter, whom I was visiting, and I did get away to Prescott where the temperatures were 25 degrees cooler, day and night.
I think it was the temperature changes that brought on the Mother-of-All-Colds. Yow! I was really miserable for two weeks solid.
That, however, has no relationship to why I’ve been away and frankly, I’m not really sure what the whole story is, because I truly love writing my blogs. Two things coincided – I finished the novel I’d been working on for three years and I started therapy. Did my brain just decide I was finished on one hand and occupy itself with figuring out the complex workings the Kathy-being on the other? Don’t really know, but I do know just typing this is relieving a certain stress and giving back to me what it always does – a sense of expression.
So, now it’s onward, as they say! Glad to be back and don’t be too surprised if you see a lot more action on my two-blog sites. A good friend suggested I market them a little more and I plan to do just that. So, hang on for what I hope will be a wild and happy ride!
Thanks for hanging in there with me, all you faithful and regular readers, who number over one hundred by the way!
Having returned from vacation in Arizona three weeks ago, I’ve really appreciated the climate here. It was already 105 degrees in Phoenix on Memorial Day, but my daughter, whom I was visiting, and I did get away to Prescott where the temperatures were 25 degrees cooler, day and night.
I think it was the temperature changes that brought on the Mother-of-All-Colds. Yow! I was really miserable for two weeks solid.
That, however, has no relationship to why I’ve been away and frankly, I’m not really sure what the whole story is, because I truly love writing my blogs. Two things coincided – I finished the novel I’d been working on for three years and I started therapy. Did my brain just decide I was finished on one hand and occupy itself with figuring out the complex workings the Kathy-being on the other? Don’t really know, but I do know just typing this is relieving a certain stress and giving back to me what it always does – a sense of expression.
So, now it’s onward, as they say! Glad to be back and don’t be too surprised if you see a lot more action on my two-blog sites. A good friend suggested I market them a little more and I plan to do just that. So, hang on for what I hope will be a wild and happy ride!
Thanks for hanging in there with me, all you faithful and regular readers, who number over one hundred by the way!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
What is Offensive?
Yesterday, I spent a couple of hours trying to mentally exonerate myself for having made a statement that offended someone of whom I’m very fond. I lost the argument with myself.
In describing someone we were discussing, I started to say something, thought better of it, then decided to go ahead, but not before uttering the following: “This is going to sound terrible. But I can say this to you guys.”
Then I stumbled into the mire by following that with this, “She’s like a little old Jewish lady.” My mental image was of the Linda Richman character, his real life mother-in-law, that Mike Myers parodied on Saturday Night Live. But, of course, that’s not what came out of my mouth.
So, I argued with myself. First, I defended myself with the fact my family is multi-racial and multi-ethnic, including the Jewish ethnicity. Therefore, since my friends knew this, I couldn’t possibly be making a prejudiced statement.
What? I will blanketly say that everyone is prejudiced; all people, with the possible exception of actual saints. It is human nature to fear the unknown, and that it the genesis of most prejudice. I firmly believe that it is our responsibility as human beings to fight our own prejudices fervently.
That being said, what my own statement revealed to me was that my first reaction to the phrase “little old Jewish lady” would be Mike Myers’ caricature, in spite of the fact that I know two lovely women who would technically qualify for the phrase, but are both in reality, nothing like Linda Richman.
Secondly, the fact that the person we were discussing – gossiping about, actually – was not someone we liked. Therefore, the statement had to be negative.
At its core, the comment I made was prejudiced, although it wasn’t my intent to offend. Intent is not the determining factor here. Result is.
So, in essence, I learned a valuable lesson, one I am so surprised to have realized at this late date and after years of being offended at the thoughtless comments of others. I apologize to my friend and hope that others, who read this, may be inspired to examine their own reconceived notions about races, ethnicities and other ways of life.
In describing someone we were discussing, I started to say something, thought better of it, then decided to go ahead, but not before uttering the following: “This is going to sound terrible. But I can say this to you guys.”
Then I stumbled into the mire by following that with this, “She’s like a little old Jewish lady.” My mental image was of the Linda Richman character, his real life mother-in-law, that Mike Myers parodied on Saturday Night Live. But, of course, that’s not what came out of my mouth.
So, I argued with myself. First, I defended myself with the fact my family is multi-racial and multi-ethnic, including the Jewish ethnicity. Therefore, since my friends knew this, I couldn’t possibly be making a prejudiced statement.
What? I will blanketly say that everyone is prejudiced; all people, with the possible exception of actual saints. It is human nature to fear the unknown, and that it the genesis of most prejudice. I firmly believe that it is our responsibility as human beings to fight our own prejudices fervently.
That being said, what my own statement revealed to me was that my first reaction to the phrase “little old Jewish lady” would be Mike Myers’ caricature, in spite of the fact that I know two lovely women who would technically qualify for the phrase, but are both in reality, nothing like Linda Richman.
Secondly, the fact that the person we were discussing – gossiping about, actually – was not someone we liked. Therefore, the statement had to be negative.
At its core, the comment I made was prejudiced, although it wasn’t my intent to offend. Intent is not the determining factor here. Result is.
So, in essence, I learned a valuable lesson, one I am so surprised to have realized at this late date and after years of being offended at the thoughtless comments of others. I apologize to my friend and hope that others, who read this, may be inspired to examine their own reconceived notions about races, ethnicities and other ways of life.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Arts in America
Whether one is a writer, painter, sculptor, actor, musician, dancer or any other of the disciplines of creativity, it is expected by family and others that you will end up starving; making no money, existing on the edge of poverty. In reality, that perception is often true.
Great societies of the past valued art and literature. Creatives were valued. Patrons supported those who struggled to bring forth great works of inner vision. Art was a much a treasure as gold and jewels. Even the horrific Nazi regime, hardly a great society but a powerful one nonetheless, sought to capture for itself all the great artworks of Europe.
When I look around what I currently see is a great disregard for art, literature, performance in all its many forms. These things have become business endeavors but not in the sense that creativity is preserved. Instead, the artwork we seek to hang on our walls must match the fabric in our couches and cost less that a night out. The books we read voraciously, myself included, are the pulp mill works that lull us to sleep just like much of the television programming we watch. We have come to value the regurgitation of comic books into film and shun the small independent films of substance. Think? We shouldn’t be required to think in our choices of reading or viewing, should we?
Bear in mind, I make fun of myself here as much as the next woman. I’ve bought the machined artwork that matched my living room, too. I’ve reached for my Janet Evanovich novel with relish, too. Evanovich’s books in the Stephanie Plum series are fantastic fun, but really don’t stretch the brain at all. So, I try to alternate between the pure enjoyment of the easier books to read and the tougher, sometimes depressing reads of Oprah’s book selections, for example.
I personally have not supported the arts nearly enough. It is time to put my money, what little there is, where my mouth is and go see a play locally. If I feel the need to decorate my meager wallspace in Wanda, my RV, it will be with something produced by an artist who fights for her place in this world, instead of something from a giant warehouse store that blends well with the highly utilitarian space I call home.
This awareness came over me suddenly and as a result I’ve decided to do something about the state of the Arts in my own city – Sacramento. I have big plans and will happily share them in upcoming stories on my other blog – SacramentoandBeyond.blogspot.com.
See you soon, in an art gallery somewhere – if not in person, in spirit.
Great societies of the past valued art and literature. Creatives were valued. Patrons supported those who struggled to bring forth great works of inner vision. Art was a much a treasure as gold and jewels. Even the horrific Nazi regime, hardly a great society but a powerful one nonetheless, sought to capture for itself all the great artworks of Europe.
When I look around what I currently see is a great disregard for art, literature, performance in all its many forms. These things have become business endeavors but not in the sense that creativity is preserved. Instead, the artwork we seek to hang on our walls must match the fabric in our couches and cost less that a night out. The books we read voraciously, myself included, are the pulp mill works that lull us to sleep just like much of the television programming we watch. We have come to value the regurgitation of comic books into film and shun the small independent films of substance. Think? We shouldn’t be required to think in our choices of reading or viewing, should we?
Bear in mind, I make fun of myself here as much as the next woman. I’ve bought the machined artwork that matched my living room, too. I’ve reached for my Janet Evanovich novel with relish, too. Evanovich’s books in the Stephanie Plum series are fantastic fun, but really don’t stretch the brain at all. So, I try to alternate between the pure enjoyment of the easier books to read and the tougher, sometimes depressing reads of Oprah’s book selections, for example.
I personally have not supported the arts nearly enough. It is time to put my money, what little there is, where my mouth is and go see a play locally. If I feel the need to decorate my meager wallspace in Wanda, my RV, it will be with something produced by an artist who fights for her place in this world, instead of something from a giant warehouse store that blends well with the highly utilitarian space I call home.
This awareness came over me suddenly and as a result I’ve decided to do something about the state of the Arts in my own city – Sacramento. I have big plans and will happily share them in upcoming stories on my other blog – SacramentoandBeyond.blogspot.com.
See you soon, in an art gallery somewhere – if not in person, in spirit.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Stuck!
It’s been awhile since I blogged. Quite a while. I couldn’t seem to get out of a funk and I couldn’t identify what the problem was, but I had an epiphany last night and I’m happy to be back on the page again.
Some of you may recall I had been working hard to finish a novel that I’ve been writing for the past three years. Well, I hit my goal for the first draft in January and have been editing and rewriting since. The past month has been a final polish. In the meantime, I’ve sent out queries to agents and so far, one has asked for the first three chapters. So, while I’m making the rest of my novel as perfect as I am able, I’ve been “on hold” in a way.
More to the point, in the front of my mind has been concerns with being a good writer, an “important” writer, which is the goal for most of us who aspire to write for others. While we can call ourselves successful by simply selling material, it is so much more satisfying, at least for me, to be able to point to acknowledgements and awards.
I think I’m over that…
Because I read and truly enjoyed a retrospective of clips from the works of John Updike, who recently passed away, I ran out and got a paperback edition containing two of the Rabbit series, Rabbit, Run and Rabbit, Redux, published in 1960 and 1971 respectively. Two other books in the series won the Pulitzer Prize. Updike is world renowned and much loved in some circles.
I hated both books. Updike is a wonderful writer. His descriptions, details and characterization are spot on. Yet, both books depressed me terribly. I found I didn’t like any of the characters, except the main character’s young son. I forced myself to read them because I felt it was “good for me.”
Okay, so I’ve revamped my goals as a writer. I want to write things that grab the reader and make him care deeply about the outcome of the characters lives, because that now means success to me. If the reader becomes engaged and reconsiders, even for just a moment, another point of view, that’s a victory. Pain experienced on behalf of the characters is fine, as long as it’s not relentless with no end in sight and has no redeeming value.
Updike’s whole point was to explore the meaningless values of American life in those times – I get that and point well-taken. Yet, the unending quality, the sense of being beaten about the head and shoulders with ugliness, is just not what I want to create or what I want to read. So, I’ve revised my idea of what being an important writer is and now I think I can move on.
This very concept of re-evaluating would probably make Updike happy. It is, after all, what should happen in life. We must all look at the world and wonder how we each fit in and what constraints are acceptable, what values we’ll each embrace.
Hooray for Updike. He moved me out of my funk.
Some of you may recall I had been working hard to finish a novel that I’ve been writing for the past three years. Well, I hit my goal for the first draft in January and have been editing and rewriting since. The past month has been a final polish. In the meantime, I’ve sent out queries to agents and so far, one has asked for the first three chapters. So, while I’m making the rest of my novel as perfect as I am able, I’ve been “on hold” in a way.
More to the point, in the front of my mind has been concerns with being a good writer, an “important” writer, which is the goal for most of us who aspire to write for others. While we can call ourselves successful by simply selling material, it is so much more satisfying, at least for me, to be able to point to acknowledgements and awards.
I think I’m over that…
Because I read and truly enjoyed a retrospective of clips from the works of John Updike, who recently passed away, I ran out and got a paperback edition containing two of the Rabbit series, Rabbit, Run and Rabbit, Redux, published in 1960 and 1971 respectively. Two other books in the series won the Pulitzer Prize. Updike is world renowned and much loved in some circles.
I hated both books. Updike is a wonderful writer. His descriptions, details and characterization are spot on. Yet, both books depressed me terribly. I found I didn’t like any of the characters, except the main character’s young son. I forced myself to read them because I felt it was “good for me.”
Okay, so I’ve revamped my goals as a writer. I want to write things that grab the reader and make him care deeply about the outcome of the characters lives, because that now means success to me. If the reader becomes engaged and reconsiders, even for just a moment, another point of view, that’s a victory. Pain experienced on behalf of the characters is fine, as long as it’s not relentless with no end in sight and has no redeeming value.
Updike’s whole point was to explore the meaningless values of American life in those times – I get that and point well-taken. Yet, the unending quality, the sense of being beaten about the head and shoulders with ugliness, is just not what I want to create or what I want to read. So, I’ve revised my idea of what being an important writer is and now I think I can move on.
This very concept of re-evaluating would probably make Updike happy. It is, after all, what should happen in life. We must all look at the world and wonder how we each fit in and what constraints are acceptable, what values we’ll each embrace.
Hooray for Updike. He moved me out of my funk.
Monday, March 2, 2009
A New National Self-Image
This nation is deep in the process of redefining itself.
For so many years, we have been burdened by the horrors of a history that included slavery, a recent past that boiled with segregation and discrimination and a present that still includes those who hate based on anything that makes a person different than them.
As a member of a multi-racial family, I am in a position to say that this last portion of the population is greater than many would believe. There are good-hearted individuals who simply don’t see the discrimination that still exists or the slights that are dealt to persons of color, different religions or sexual orientations on a regular basis.
However, since the election of President Barack Obama, the great majority of Americans have rejoiced in the fact that now we have risen above this ugly quagmire of past and present.
There is a prevailing sense of unreality at times, as though we are simply watching this happen on a television series – “24” come to life. Part of that is probably the inundation by the media; Obama’s picture is everywhere. But the thoughts and questions still seem to hang in the air. Really? No way! Really? We are still collectively pinching ourselves.
It is real. I will always remember the sea of crying and jubilant faces that watched in Grant Park on election night as Obama made his acceptance speech. That mass of people was as racially diverse a group as this country is ever likely to see again. How wonderful is that? We were able to experience pride and joy in ourselves as a country and as a people.
As the reality sets in and President Obama becomes the ingrained leader of our country, and not just our first black president, so hopefully will our self-image become less strident and conflicted. Hopefully, we will be able to accept ourselves as a nation that can overcome anything, eventually, and is no longer the stepchild of Liberty, but one of her direct descendants.
For so many years, we have been burdened by the horrors of a history that included slavery, a recent past that boiled with segregation and discrimination and a present that still includes those who hate based on anything that makes a person different than them.
As a member of a multi-racial family, I am in a position to say that this last portion of the population is greater than many would believe. There are good-hearted individuals who simply don’t see the discrimination that still exists or the slights that are dealt to persons of color, different religions or sexual orientations on a regular basis.
However, since the election of President Barack Obama, the great majority of Americans have rejoiced in the fact that now we have risen above this ugly quagmire of past and present.
There is a prevailing sense of unreality at times, as though we are simply watching this happen on a television series – “24” come to life. Part of that is probably the inundation by the media; Obama’s picture is everywhere. But the thoughts and questions still seem to hang in the air. Really? No way! Really? We are still collectively pinching ourselves.
It is real. I will always remember the sea of crying and jubilant faces that watched in Grant Park on election night as Obama made his acceptance speech. That mass of people was as racially diverse a group as this country is ever likely to see again. How wonderful is that? We were able to experience pride and joy in ourselves as a country and as a people.
As the reality sets in and President Obama becomes the ingrained leader of our country, and not just our first black president, so hopefully will our self-image become less strident and conflicted. Hopefully, we will be able to accept ourselves as a nation that can overcome anything, eventually, and is no longer the stepchild of Liberty, but one of her direct descendants.
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