Civics Lesson for an Old Citizen

Posted on January 24, 2013 by Coming East

20130124-092602.jpg I’ve been helping a young Vietnamese woman prepare for the citizenship test she hopes to take at the end of the year. Besides working on her basic English skills, she also needs to master the civics portion of the test. We have some study materials from the government that I go over with her every week. We read a couple of pages at a time and then discuss them. Last week we read about the United States being a representative democracy and what that means. I told her that our elected officials represent our wants and wishes, and if they don’t speak for us the way we want them to, then we can vote for someone else during the next election. I also told her that the only way for our representatives to speak accurately for us is to let them know how we feel about issues through letters and emails. Otherwise, our representatives will listen to lobbyists.

I was caught up short. Here I was giving a civics lesson to this immigrant who wants desperately to become a citizen when what I really needed was a civics lesson for myself, someone whose family has been in this land since before the Revolution. When was the last time I let my representatives know my views? I talked it over with my husband and he was as convicted as I was. Thanks to teaching civics to my young friend, I hope to become a better citizen myself.

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Removing the Glue from the Wallpaper of Life

Posted on January 22, 2013 by Coming East

I’m exhausted and sore all over.  Yesterday my husband and I spent more than seven straight hours removing wallpaper from the dining room.  It was the original wallpaper when the house was built, so I would have thought that after thirty years, it would have been screaming to be taken down. But it was rather attached to those dining room walls. The first three hours we spent steaming the paper off. The next four we sprayed the walls with glue remover and scrubbed and scrubbed, and scrubbed some more. Getting the glue off the walls was worse than the paper removal.

After scrubbing until my shoulders ached and my arms were ready to fall off, my husband said, “The second scrubbing will be easier.” Second scrubbing? I simply nodded and didn’t say a word, but though I made sure my face did not betray my feelings, inside I was thinking, you’ve got to be teasing me! Only teasing wasn’t the word that was in my head. Since I didn’t say it aloud, I don’t think it actually counts as swearing. I thought I might build a case for the walls not needing a second scrubbing, but when I leaned against the wall and my shirt stuck to it, it was a dead giveaway that there was still glue on it.

It wouldn’t be so bad if we could put some color on the walls now and be done with it, but now we have to spackle and sand and then put two coats of primer on. Besides sanding the walls, we have to sand all the trim, the chair rail, and the crown molding and paint all that plus the ceiling. When that is finally done, then and only then can we put the color on the walls. Since we can only do most of this work on the weekends, my downstairs will be torn up for at least four weeks. Maybe more.

We will be living like this for a long, long time.

View from the dining room into the living room where all the dining room furniture is.  We will be living like this for a long, long time.

When we are finished with our redecoration of the dining room and have moved the furniture back in, we will be so glad we took on this monumental task. But right now…not so much. Maybe there is a lesson in this. I’ve been stuck in certain behavior patterns for sixty-four years now and thought it might be time for a makeover. Thinking about that wallpaper makes me see that there’s too much old glue for a redo to be anything less than another monumental task.

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Waiting for Snow

Posted on January 18, 2013 by Coming East

I’m disappointed. The weather forecasters predicted snow for last night. They were so sure we would get at least an inch or more that many schools already scheduled delayed openings for this morning, my husband’s college included. I must have gotten up at least four times in the middle of the night to look out the window, but not a flake fell in my neighborhood. That’s the price I pay for living on the coast. I’ll bet my brother, living two hours inland from me, got some snow, and he’ll rub it in by showing me pictures and video from his iPad. I’ll pay him back on a hot summer day when I tell him I’m going to the beach. But right now he’s winning.

Our first Texas home with a light dusting of snow.

Our first Texas home with a light dusting of snow. Click to enlarge.

When we moved to San Antonio, snow was one of the things I missed. In the twenty-nine years we lived there, other than a light dusting one day, it snowed only once, and that was a freak snowstorm that dumped fifteen inches on the city. I think it melted the next day, but we sure enjoyed the fluffy white stuff when it was coming down. My husband has a rare picture in his office of the Alamo blanketed in white.

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Our big Texas snowfall. Notice my cowboy boots. No Uggs in San Antonio. Click to enlarge.

My children make snowballs and show off icicles before the snow melts.

My children make snowballs and show off icicles before the snow melts. Click to enlarge.

Since I grew up in Connecticut, I had my share of snow days. Snuggled beneath my Hudson Bay striped wool blanket, shrouded in darkness, I could hear my mother tiptoe into the room and come to the edge of the bed. “Snow day. No school today.” How delicious to stay hunkered down in the warmth instead of dragging myself out of bed into the chilly dawn room to dress for school. When we finally emerged from our cocoons, my mother would have hot cocoa and a steaming bowl of Maypo (an old brand of maple oatmeal) waiting for us. Then we’d pile on the coats, boots, hats and mittens and head outside into the white wonderland.

Outside our igloo with my brother (standing) and two neighborhood children. I'm on the left of my mother.

Outside our igloo with my brother (standing) and two neighborhood children. I’m on the left of my mother. Click to enlarge.

My brother and I once made an igloo during a particularly heavy snowfall.  I still remember climbing inside and being amazed that it really was warmer inside than I thought it would be.  My children, born in the Northeast but raised in Texas, never got to experience this except that one time. Poor, deprived children.

And poor, deprived hubby. His parting words, as he headed out into the icy air for his drive to work, were, “This should have been a snow day.”

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Forgetfulness Drives Me Crazy

Posted on January 16, 2013 by Coming East

Lately, my forgetfulness is causing me anxiety.  For example, the other day I went to the Y for my yoga class and put my coat and pocketbook  (aka a purse for those of you under the age of sixty) in a locker and put my lock on it.  Halfway through my yoga class, I had this niggling thought that maybe I hadn’t really remembered to lock my locker.  I didn’t want to leave the class in the middle of a downward facing dog, so I assured myself that yes, I had definitely locked my locker. When the class was over and I was heading back to the locker room, I reached into the pouch of my yoga bag to retrieve my key, and lo and behold, I withdrew my lock. My heart started racing. I knew my pocketbook had to be missing or at least been rifled through, and all my credit cards stolen. How could I have been so forgetful? I scolded myself. I raced to my locker in the slim hope that my coat was covering my pocketbook and nothing was missing. I got to my locker, and there was my lock. On the locker. Locked. I had used the lock I keep in my pocketbook when I’m not going to yoga and don’t have the lock I carry in my yoga bag. The lock in my hand was from my yoga bag.

A few months ago, as my husband and I were still sitting at the dinner table after we’d finished eating, my husband looked at the stove and said, “Did you mean to leave that burner on?” Rather than responding with what I really wanted to say (Of course, I meant to leave it on. I’ve always wanted to set the house on fire.), I sheepishly jumped up and turned the burner off. Now, however, every time I leave the house, I wonder if I’ve left the burner on. I’m thinking of serving only cold cereal every morning so I don’t have to worry about it anymore.

I read somewhere (can’t remember where) that certain cholesterol-lowering medications can cause memory loss. Since I’m on one of those medications, I’ve thought of asking my doctor about lowering the dosage. If I could only remember to ask him. Or maybe I did remember. Wonder what he said.

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Paying for Cheerfulness

Posted on January 14, 2013 by Coming East

When we first moved to Virginia Beach, finding a grocery store was not a problem.  Within a three-mile area, there were no less than six food stores.  Shortly thereafter, Trader Joe’s moved in and now we have Whole Foods, bringing the total to eight food stores within three miles.  All but two are a mile or less away.  So, as I said, I have plenty of food stores to choose from.

Of course, they all differ from each other in certain ways, by what products they carry, how expensive they are, and customer service.  The store that has the best prices by far is Krogers.  It also has just about anything I need.  If I shop there, my grocery budget will go a lot further.  But if I go there, my self esteem plummets. I feel as if I’m invisible when I’m in that store.  For example, a few days ago, I decided to give Kroger another chance.  They’ve been doing some major remodeling (funny how that happened just after Whole Foods moved in across the parking lot), and even though my last trip to their store was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, I thought they might have developed a new attitude along with their facelift.  No such luck.

I stood by the deli for a full three minutes before anyone noticed me, even though I was the only customer at the counter. The man who waited on me made it quite clear with his sour expression when he finally came over to wait on me, that he had better things to do than deal with a customer. He filled my first order, and when I asked for a second item, he sighed heavily and passed me over to another person to wait on me. She didn’t seem any happier to help me. When I checked out, the cashier never smiled, and when she finished checking out my order and said, “Have a nice day,” she never even made eye contact with me. I went in the store in an upbeat mood but left with my shoulders sagging. Believe it or not, this experience was actually better than the incident that made me stay away from Krogers in the first place.

When I go to the gourmet market or Whole Foods, every employee, without exception, is friendly and helpful. They look me in the eye, acknowledge my presence, and strike up conversations. They smile and joke and remember me when I return. Yes, I’m sure they were trained to go out of their way to serve, but they seem to do it with genuine enjoyment.

So, here’s the thing. Do I go to the store that is by far the best value, or do I go to the high-priced stores where the employees make me feel important and appreciated? Do I just swallow my pride to save my money, or do I forget about the money issue and go where grocery shopping is a pleasant experience? I choose the latter. What about you?

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My Health and My Children’s Happiness Go Hand-in-Hand

Posted on January 9, 2013 by Coming East

It’s the start of a new year, and as I always do at the beginning of the new year, I resolve to work out more to stay healthy. As I well know, it’s hard for me to stick with anything for very long, this blog not withstanding.  So I’ve come up with an incentive that I think will keep me on track.  Starting this week, I am paying myself $5.00 every time I go to the YMCA, and I’ll kick in another $1.00 for every mile I walk in a single day. And this is the best part: I’m putting the money in a fund to buy my children’s Christmas presents. Brilliant, yes? I just love, love, love those kids and grandchildren so much, I couldn’t stand to disappoint them next Christmas. I couldn’t stand to see their little boo-hoo faces if nothing was under the Christmas tree from Mommy. I mean, I know every year they say, “Oh, Mom, you don’t need to buy us anything. Your love is all we want.” But what kind of a mother would I be if I listened to them?

I went to the Y on Monday, and then yesterday I went for yoga. At the end of the day, my husband called as he was leaving work and asked me if I wanted to go to the Y to work out with him when he came home. Cha-ching! Twice in one day. What a bonus for my little sweeties! It’s only Wednesday morning, and already my children have fifteen dollars in their kitty.

This is also a great way to reduce my spending. After all, my employer (me) doesn’t have an unlimited supply of funds. She can only stretch her retirement check so far. From now on, instead of drooling over the clothes in the J.Jill or Talbot’s catalogues, I’m going to put them right in the trash. My money is going straight into my kids’ Christmas fund. After I work out, of course.

Today I have nothing on my schedule except laundry. Usually, on days like this, I would sit back and read or play my music, but I need to exercise for my children (my E-string is broken again anyway). I can’t decide if I should go to the gym or walk to the library, a three-mile round trip. Or, I could walk to the gym, a two-mile round trip, plus I’d get the five bucks for working out. If I was a really good mom, I would walk to the library, walk to the gym, and work out. This tires me out just thinking about it.

I hope I can keep this up. I wonder if I should let my children know about my plan. That way, if I start to falter, they can encourage me. After all, their happiness is at stake. Now I wonder if I can get my husband to make the same deal with me. I could really use a new MacBook next Christmas. Hey, I’m only thinking of his well-being.

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Playing to Lose

Posted on January 7, 2013 by Coming East

I had a friend over for my birthday last week. She usually comes over on Thursday afternoons, and last Thursday just happened to be my birthday, so we didn’t change anything. I love this friend dearly, but she can be quite intimidating, so I kowtow to her whenever she visits, just to keep the peace. Once, when she came over to color with me, she told me my crayons weren’t very good. I have to admit she was right. I only had eight of them, and they were the washable kind, so the colors weren’t very vibrant. So I bought a box of 48 Crayola crayons for her next visit. As we were coloring, I watched for any sign that these new crayons were acceptable. Finally, when no such sign was forthcoming, I said, “Did you notice I bought new crayons?” She nodded, but didn’t say a word. “I bought the box of 48 this time,” I continued. Without looking up from her coloring, she replied, “My grandma bought the box of 64.”

Thursday she brought over the card game “Go Fish,” and when she started to lose, she informed me that the first round was only a practice round so that I could get used to the rules. I took that to mean her rules. I learned quickly, and in the next round, I held my matching cards until she had set all her matching “books” down and was out of cards, thereby winning the game. I started to congratulate her, but she beat me to it.

Now don’t give me that nonsense that adults should not let children win because children need to learn that losing is part of life. Children get plenty of opportunities to experience losing. Besides, let their parents teach them that. Grandparents and sudo-grandparents should have the pleasure of seeing little faces light up with joy when they win. Besides, if you have a friend like my little four-year-old one, you’d be a fool to play to win.

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Happy Birthday to Me

Posted on January 3, 2013 by Coming East

“Once I was looking through the kitchen window at dusk and I saw an old woman looking in. Suddenly the light changed and I realized that the old woman was myself.  You see, it all happens on the outside; inside one doesn’t change.”
~ Molly Keane

Today is my birthday.  I wanted to show you my life in pictures, but all the really good pictures of me must be packed away some place because I couldn’t find them.  You would think they would be with all the other family pictures, but apparently someone took all the best ones of me and hid them.  I do, however, have some early pictures of me, such as this one when I was nearly a year old.

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Yeah, you’re right.  I’m darn cute in that picture.  I know what you’re thinking, though.  You’re wondering if I’m still that cute.  As a matter of fact, I am.  I know this to be true because my husband tells me so all the time, and I trust his judgment.  I wish I could prove it to you, but with those great pictures going missing…

7th grade school picture

7th grade school picture

I also used to have red hair, like an Irish setter.  Red hair never lasts, and you can’t get it to look natural from a bottle.  So yes, I no longer have red hair, but I still have hair, so that’s a good thing.  I also still have all my teeth and my original hips and knees.  The hips and knees don’t work quite as well as they used to, but they work well enough.  I had very little trouble getting down on the floor to play with my three-year-old grandniece during the Christmas holidays.  However, my nephew made some rather snide comments about how I looked when I attempted to get up.  He did not use the word graceful.

Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “A man over ninety is a great comfort to all his elderly neighbors: he is a picket-guard at the extreme outpost; and the young folks of sixty and seventy feel that the enemy must get by him before he can come near their camp.”

I am not yet that picket-guard, but the extreme outpost is getting nearer.  My parents have been gone for many years now, so there is no buffer between me and eternity.  Though this day will be a quiet one, I will enjoy it immensely, because each day is a blessing and each breath a prayer.

Oh, wait!  Before I leave you, I need to post one more picture of me.  This was taken just yesterday.  Darned if I don’t still look cute!

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I Am Not An Old Dog

Posted on January 1, 2013 by Coming East

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I read an article the other day that said by January 10th, most people have already abandoned their New Year’s resolutions. Dismal statistics, but not surprising. I think the problem is that people who make resolutions tend to make the same ones year after year, expecting that this year will be different and they will finally manage to stick to their plan. I used to do that, too, but I am not an old dog: You can teach me new tricks.

I still make New Year’s resolutions, but they aren’t grandiose ones like they were in days of my youth, when I was only in my fifties, say. I used to resolve to work out four days a week, let no white flour pass my lips, relearn the Rachmaninoff C# minor prelude, and get through War and Peace. Now I aim to accomplish small things. For example, I vow to use my over-ripe bananas to actually make banana bread instead of just talking about making it for so long I end up throwing them in the trash. Oh, wait…who am I kidding? That might be too lofty a goal.

Because my birthday comes right after New Year’s, I am even more acutely aware of the racing of the years. Resolutions, even ones I am doomed to forsake, make me take stock of my life and aim for improvement. Even if I don’t hit the mark I’ve set, trying to reach it makes me feel like I’m still in the race. I don’t need to reinvent myself each year. I just need to feel that I am not that proverbial old dog. Perhaps this will be the year I will finally learn to play the bodhrán.

I think Ben Franklin said it best: “Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.” I’m still working on it. Happy New Year.

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A Favorite Christmas Reflection

Posted on December 26, 2012 by Coming East

So that I may enjoy the holidays with family and friends, I’m reposting one of my favorite seasonal reflections from early in my blogging career.  Hope you are enjoying the holidays as well.

This one is from December, 2010:

A Year’s End Reflection

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