Archive for the ‘Boomer Musings’ Category

You ever have one of those moments. You feel like you can not hold it in for another second, that it feels like it will just spill out, then it does…

I need a book club!! I miss a good book club. Not a group where all the members get together like a tea party, gab about whatever but a real true blue book club.

You read a book, you review the book then you find out if there are other books you might like. You find out if there are authors you have missed or new writings to explore. And the new writings can be old writings, like I got obsessed with John Buchan who began writing in the early 1900s.

John Buchan

But when I discovered him I was simply amazed that I was missing these good books. I found him through the Kindle online book club. Then realized I had one of his books on my bookshelf! Needless to say I now have read quite a few of his books.

And who hasn’t heard of Stephen King?

Stephen King

The great thing about King is he can appeal to just about anyone. I have my eye on his latest book, “11/22/63”. Being a history buff (why I like John Buchan) I am looking forward to how he ties together when JFK was slain and what happens when LBJ became President, only as Stephen King can tell a story.

I miss the kind of explorations that come from real serious book clubs. One time I went to a book group in Salt Lake City Utah. It was great! We read several books by local Utah writers. Each book was read for about a two week period then the group met with the author who shared what they were inspired to communicate to the reader and then the reader was inspired to share too. The readers were both men and women.

Then there are the other kind. This might be a fit for you. For me it is not. A group that is only women who get together and gab about anything but the book. Plan little get togethers, outings, etc that have nothing to do with the book. If you are looking for a book club that offers this kind of thing then this is for you!

In this space of my life I am busy with so much that I do not have to play like that. But I still crave a good group discussion of a book. I joined the Kindle Book Club but can not find my niche there yet. I hope it works out. I don’t mind doing an online book club but I would like to go hear authors speak. Actually I want to be in a book store or library surrounded with the written word. There is an ambiance that feels, smells, and looks like a place that readers will go.

I love libraries and book stores. People from all walks of life are there perusing books. The one thing all the people have in common is the love of a good read. I think what got me missing a good book club is I miss talking to others about what I am reading. When a author writes to me they are inviting me into a place that will transport my mind to travel in time and space to another world, their world. I love that about books. From Stephen King to John Buchan, no matter!

It is time to actively pursue a good book club…I think I will see what I can find! Wish me luck!

I love my morning walks. I go to the same two places. Our city park and our State Park. Today it was Fort Toulouse-Jackson Park that I visited. Every once and awhile the reality of the history of the place moves me. I stopped to read the marker today.

In 1717 the confluence of the Tallapposa and Coosa Rivers have become the literal center of the Creek Nation. I thought about that today. I rounded the area where the reconstructed French fort had been built back then.

Marker, Fort Toulouse-Jackson State Park

The original was erected about 290 years ago. That was when the French were players with the U.S in North America. They came up from Mobile built the fort named for the Comte de Toulouse (son of King Louis XIV). I was reminded that this was a major trading point with the Creek Nation. The Fort was also referred to as the “Post of the Alabama” named after the Indians who lived there. I had never thought about the place being the “Post of the Alabama”.

That was in the days before there was real push by the United States to “relocate” the Creek Nation. Enter Andrew Jackson with his Tennessee Militia, his mandate to pushed out the Creeks at the battle of Horseshoe Bend. Then he came back to the fort site to sign treaties.

Reconstructed Fort Toulouse

Lots of stuff happened at this park I walk in most mornings. I keep finding something new every time I do. Today I thought about Andrew Jackson riding in on his horse and meeting with the Creek leaders. I could visualize that all these people walked here where I walked.

Of course like all my thoughts I began to think about you, where you all live and what happened there. If you want, please share.

I am a product of the times. I have an smartphone, I am a member of the Iphone clique. I use my smartphone for just about anything under the sun. I check my business accounts, read the daily news, check the weather, play games and surf the Web. I keep my notes for errands, business or other ideas that pop in my head. I use Facetime to “see” the grandkids. And rarely do I use my phone for phone calls. There is that occasional call that needs to be made. For example, yesterday I hopped on the phone because it was important to talk to my grandson.

My number one pet peeve with cellular phones is driving while talking or texting on the phone. When did we get so busy that we are glued to our phone in traffic? And who do we need to talk with such urgency? Is driving to and from wherever we are going that boring?

I don’t like talking on the phone. I rarely do. There was a time I would talk for a couple of hours with my sister on the phone. But I would plug in ear phones and be doing something else while we talked. I cannot imagine stopping and sitting to talk on the phone for more than 10 minutes which, seems like forever to me. And reception is an issue with smartphones. Every once and awhile you just drop a call. So then I have to wonder how far did I get talking before the call got dropped, only to I start all over!

But you may say, what about the kids or family or friends? Well the kids are on Facebook so I talk to them there. And grandchildren I make appointments with to talk on Facetime from time to time. Or email them. And even while talking business I just get it done and get off the call, if I can make contact by email I will do that over making a call.

I do not know what to say on the phone, I can’t see the person, I can’t get a feel for them on the phone. So I sit stalling out while the conversation usually dies out, I feel like I should be doing something. Anything. So if you are waiting for me get on the phone it usually isn’t going to happen.

I wondered where my dislike for phone calls come from. I think it is the ability to do Facetime, email, Instant Messaging or other social media exchanges. I think phone calls are passe, well at least for me.

I use my smartphone ever single day. I carry it around faithfully. But not for calls. For the news, weather, Itunes or games. I check my email, Facebook, take pictures, or notes. I check the bank, the Internet or go to Amazon. I even explore the universe on the App named “Star Walk”. All in a day’s adventure on my phone but rarely do I make a call or get a call.

Am I the only one who is not into phone calling?

He was the leader of the free world through one of the most momentous times of history. America will remember him as a legendary President who did great things. His wife would have another picture of him. He chose his wife carefully. They both had a long and stable family background and yet, for 30 years he betrayed her.

When looking at pictures of Eleanor Roosevelt you see a woman determined, she did not age well by our modern standard of beauty but she left a legacy few of us can measure up to. Married to the famous Franklin Delano Roosevelt she spent four terms as First Lady in the White House. She visited many countries, her husband relied on her for his eyes and ears to foreign and domestic problems. And yet….he betrayed her most sacred trust. 

Now I understand the determination of her look when she is working hard. She was burying herself in work to deal with her personal life. Eleanor Roosevelt did much to give us the popular image that her husband gained. And yet Roosevelt’s almost thirty-year affair with Lucy Page Mercer (his wife’s personal secretary, how convenient right?) began around 1916. When Mrs. Roosevelt discovered love letters she confronted her husband and offered him a divorce. Roosevelt promised to stop seeing Lucy Mercer. History tells us he did not stop seeing her.

I do not know the personal reasons why they did not divorce but I do know that it had a profound affect on Eleanor. How could it not? She became extremely active in social programs setting a precedent for First Ladies, she developed deep and abiding friendship with other women. And she changed her relationship with her husband to a working relationship.

I remember Roosevelt for his social programs like the Civilian Conservation Corps that operated from 1933 to 1942. Also for the Social Security Act that he signed into law on August 14, 1935. There were the fireside chats, around thirty radio addresses given from 1933 to 1942. However, few people realized it was Roosevelt that authorized the internment of Japanese Americans with Executive Order 9066 that was issued February 19, 1942 or that he denied the German Jews to enter America because of the Great Depression. The U.S. Congress had instilled tough immigration quotas and the German Jews, he felt, were not considered an endangered minority (guess we learned differently).

But the one thing about that period of history that stands out is the life long betrayal in his marriage. I do not know what went on between the Roosevelts but I know how that kind of betrayal affects people. I do know it affected Eleanor Roosevelt. And the absolute betrayal that Lucy Mercer was with her husband when he died. Most people equate betrayal as that caused from a sexual relationship but I believe that the act of dying is the most intimate experience two people share. To share that with the “other woman” was the absolute act of betrayal.

Betrayal, the absolute breach of confidence and duplicity is the one thing that I remember most about the White House years of the Roosevelts.

~Betrayal is the only truth that sticks~

Arthur Miller

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

~ Joyce Kilmer, 1886-1918~

In my youth my height, which is 5′ 4”, was considered the average height. I felt, well average. I like average, it is a nice place to be.

As time has passed I am wondering about all the trees or the tall people in my family. How did they get so tall? Was it the increase in pollution? I know, maybe they are mutants. Or was it better health and nutrition? I think most people want to believe this to be the case.

Elm Tree photographed by Herbert Steed

Most days it doesn’t bother be to live among the trees. The women are now averaging 5′ 8” while the men shade me in their shadow from about 6′ 1” to 6′ 5”. The grandchildren are growing fast and will soon pass me by. It really isn’t too much of an issue until I am in close quarters say, like cooking with hungry trees rooting around the kitchen. There simply is no light! No elbow room!

Would I change it? Never, ever, not in a heartbeat. I love my trees. They make me feel sheltered and protected. Trees are intended to grow close and mine do that just that. It is okay until my son, Micah, decides to scoop me in for a hug and pat me on the head. Then with a smile he says, “mom you are so cute and short”.

That dear reader is worth all the shaded, crowded room my trees share with me.

Mmm. Mmm.

Memories, light the corners of my mind

Misty watercolor memories of the way we were.

Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind

smiles we give to one another

for the way we were.

Can it be that it was all so simple then

or has time rewritten every line?

If we had the chance to do it all again

tell me would we? Could we?

Memories, may be beautiful and yet

what’s too painful to remember

we simply choose to forget

So it’s the laughter we will remember

whenever we remember

the way we were.

Life changes in ways we never thought it would, doesn’t it? Don’t you feel like you miss the good old days and yet we know that we can never go back. This morning as I was reading the Sunday comics I came across just such a sentiment while reading Crankshaft. He mused over that fact you can not go back and the best way to handle it when “memories light the corners of my mind” is to “set limits on that kind of thinking”. Memory is interesting. It reminds me of a hard drive that stores periods of time and then can be recalled at a moments notice. The memories I was thinking of were the long term memories, not the short term day-to-day things. It seems that the brain can make the long term memories more lucid as time goes on.

I tend to agree with Crankshaft that there is a need to set limits. Why set limits? Well for one, at Thomas Wolfe says, “You can’t go home again”. Forward is the only motion we can do. Even more so since we leave tracks of memories that follow us through the years. I got to thinking about that when I read Crankshaft this morning. I am working on six decades of living and along with that follows the memories. Quite a catalog of memories, I might add!

When I picked out the lyrics above to go with this piece I immediately thought about how over time the painful memories are replaced with the happy ones. Like the song says, “what’s too painful to remember we simply choose to forget”. Truer words have never been spoken. So many times when I blog about the past I chose to omit the painful parts of the past.

I remember the good times of childhood or the period of raising my children, and then moving into the empty nest. As well as places I have lived. The paths I have traveled now take on a certain happiness as I look back to relive the laughter and the good times. And why not? Why live in a negative place we can never go back to, it is only space we all traveled through to get to where we are now.

With the stress many people are under right now I think the memories tend to rise to the surface. We remember happier times, the way we were without the pain of the past or the present. I think it is the mind’s way of helping us through difficult times. Life is made up of both pain and laughter. I look at travel through life as hills and valleys, or the good years and the bad years. I learn from both. And I chose not to be stuck “back there” in the past, especially the negative past.

I dredged up some negative past from about twenty five years ago recently. At first I remembered and felt the pain only. Then the longer I processed it a wonderful thing happened. I found I am not that person anymore but a stronger more vital person. Without that negative experience to add to my wealth of memories I would not have made the life choices I did as I traveled through the decades that brought me here.

Here. Here to the place where I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. The most vital and alive I can ever remember. I often wonder why younger people fear aging. I love it! The older I get the better it gets. Because memories help create an appreciation for the way we were. I raised my kids, struggled through jobs, marriage and finally went to college. I lived in a few places in these United States and Europe. Those memories have brought me closer to my family, my friends and to myself. And they have made this time with my husband a space I enjoy. A partnership that ages like a fine wine. I have to thank my friend who listened as I dredged up a past that now is finally laid to rest.  For good.

I want to remember the past with fondness and put a limit on being there in the past. Memories are for remembering not for getting lost in, for letting go and moving forward. And so as I look back over the memories I think that “its the laughter we will remember whenever we remember the way we were”.