I have a thousand things to do before Christmas Eve, but instead of doing them, I am sitting by the window, watching the rain. This was going to be a stress-free holiday season, my first as a retiree; but Christmas is a busy and emotionally-loaded time of year for everyone, regardless of their situations, I think. Listening to rain always gives me a feeling of relief and release. It calms me.
Tom and I delivered baskets, gifts, and quilts to seniors today. In the past, my Christmas charitable activities had been limited to writing checks, and I looked forward to this more hands-on experience. This is going to be my life from now on; getting out there and trying to find meaning for living, rather than working all the time to earn a living. Only trouble is, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to completely make sense of it all.
I get satisfaction out of letting lonely seniors know that someone cares, but feel sad that so many people end their lives in that circumstance and wonder if I will, too. I feel happy when I reconnect with my aunts and uncles at Christmas time, but feel sad that so many of them are now gone or are declining physically. I enjoy selecting gifts for friends and family members, but stress out on whether my selections will be appropriate or inadvertently convey the wrong message, and I still feel a little bit conflicted about the materialistic aspect of it all.
In the end, though, I look forward to Christmas. I enjoy the lights and the decorations and the food and the parties, and most of all that collective feeling of sincere good-will that I think is the true cultural meaning of this holiday.
I wish a wonderful Christmas holiday to all my family and friends.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Multi-Tasking: Just Say No!
Standing in line at Petco, a man carrying a sack of dog food under one arm yakked on his cell-phone while examining a rubber mat hanging near the check-out line. Because he couldn’t quite grasp the mat with his one free hand, the mat swung around and knocked a ceramic mug to the ground, shattering it into a dozen pieces. This caused the cashier to leave her station to clean up the mess, thereby slowing down the entire line of customers waiting to pay for their purchases. Another fine mess which could have been prevented if the man in question had simply been paying attention to what he was doing instead of trying to do too many things at once. And another example of mindless and unnecessary multi-tasking, since the phone call sounded to this bystander like an inane social conversation that could have waited five minutes.
One of my pet peeves is cell-phoning drivers. It seems like every time the driver ahead of me forgets to go when the light turns green, or cuts someone off to change lanes at the last possible minute in order to make a turn, it’s because he or she is on the phone. I sometimes wonder how so many people can have so many important calls that can’t wait until they get home when, just a few years ago, cells phones didn’t exist, yet people managed to survive somehow. Now some cars come equipped with DVD players and other assorted high-tech gadgets. The new opportunities for distracted driving boggle the mind.
I believe in doing one thing at a time. I learned a long time ago that if you have five files open on your desk at the same time, none of them will get done and some piece of paper is bound to get lost. Finish one thing, put it away, then start the next one. Some people think they’re being more efficient if they can talk on the phone, read email, and write a budget report while eating lunch when, instead, each task is only getting a small portion of their attention it needs. The increasing trend toward doing more than one thing at a time is not resulting in a society that is more efficient – just more distracted and accident-prone.
One of my pet peeves is cell-phoning drivers. It seems like every time the driver ahead of me forgets to go when the light turns green, or cuts someone off to change lanes at the last possible minute in order to make a turn, it’s because he or she is on the phone. I sometimes wonder how so many people can have so many important calls that can’t wait until they get home when, just a few years ago, cells phones didn’t exist, yet people managed to survive somehow. Now some cars come equipped with DVD players and other assorted high-tech gadgets. The new opportunities for distracted driving boggle the mind.
I believe in doing one thing at a time. I learned a long time ago that if you have five files open on your desk at the same time, none of them will get done and some piece of paper is bound to get lost. Finish one thing, put it away, then start the next one. Some people think they’re being more efficient if they can talk on the phone, read email, and write a budget report while eating lunch when, instead, each task is only getting a small portion of their attention it needs. The increasing trend toward doing more than one thing at a time is not resulting in a society that is more efficient – just more distracted and accident-prone.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Disc Drive Saga
After three months of comedy and agony, the CD/DVD burner on our computer is finally fixed and my husband is happily churning out copies of a home movie to send to his kids. I had nearly given up on ever arriving at this happy ending.
It all a started when I first showed my husband how easy it was to use the computer to burn a copy of a home movie he had converted to a DVD disc. He was impressed and wanted to make more DVD copies. As luck would have it, though, the CD/DVD burner started malfunctioning shortly afterward. I tried updating the Nero burning software at a cost of $69, but to no avail. It was the hardware, and the drive was now incapable of burning, playing, or even recognizing any CD or DVD disc that was placed into it.
Not to worry, though. We had a service contract with Comp USA! I called. The part would be sent directly to our house, and as soon as it arrived, a technician would come out to install it. Naively, I assumed this would take place within a week or two. But when we left on our vacation trip over a month later, the part still hadn’t arrived.
When we returned from vacation, there was a message on our answering machine from Comp USA: please call to set an appointment time. According to Comp USA, the part had been delivered the day before we arrived home. But where was it? UPS left it on our porch, and apparently it had been lost or stolen. A replacement part had to be ordered.
Curiously, it arrived in only two weeks this time, and a technician installed it the next day. Before the technician left, I burned a test CD. It worked, and I was elated. Then I tried to make a disc-to-disc copy of my husband’s home movie DVD. Error message. The technician patiently explained that I couldn’t use a DVD disc in a CD burner. I patiently replied that the part he replaced was supposed to be a DVD burner. That was when we both realized that Comp USA had sent the wrong part!
The technician called Comp USA and reported the error. Comp USA wanted him to remove the new CD burner he had just installed, but he refused, for which I was grateful. At least I could now burn some photo CDs that I’d been waiting to do for a month. Meanwhile, a new part was ordered.
So we were back to square one, again waiting for a delivery. And again, when it arrived about a week later, it was the wrong part, a DVD ROM which, Comp USA admitted, wasn’t going to burn anything. Yet another part was ordered. Would number four be the charm??
Maybe. The right part arrive only a day or two later. We wondered why the first one took over a month. A different technician, a young woman, arrived to install it. This time, I cut right to the chase and tried making a disc-to-disc DVD copy. It appeared to work at first, but the DVD copy would not play. We tried again and again. It was getting late. The technician tried one more time, this time using a longer burning method, and left before it finished. See if it works, see if the discs play in another machine, try a different medium, she said as she headed for the door. If not, maybe the part is bad and we’ll have to order another one!
My husband, to say the least, was not a happy camper, and immediately called Comp USA, demanding that they send someone “that knows what they are doing.” We needed a trouble-shooter, since we had no idea whether it was a hardware or software problem, but Comp USA doesn’t make house calls for that sort of thing. We would have to bring the computer in. Since all Comp USA stores have disappeared from our area over the last couple of years, and the nearest service center is now two hours away, that was out of the question. I would either have to figure it out myself, or we would give up on the service contract and hire a private computer expert.
I studied the Nero manual from cover-to-cover trying to decipher any possible software issues, and eventually learned that there was an electronic log file on my hard drive that listed all the error messages when a process failed. I read the log, and most of it made no sense to me . . . except for one line out of seventeen pages that indicated a DVD +RW disc is not compatible with the Windows XT operating system on our computer. Perhaps all I needed was a different disc! After making the first DVD copy on a stray blank DVD disc, we had gone out and bought what we assumed were the best quality DVD discs in the store, the “plus” version. It was midnight and all the stores were closed, so I hardly slept all night, wondering if my problems would all be solved by the simple purchase of a different DVD disc, without the “plus.”
The next day, I bought a small package of blank DVD-R discs, took them home, and tried making the copy. Unbelievably, this time it worked.
So this story is ended, and I’m not sure that the message is. I don’t know why it took Comp USA four tries to get the right part to us, and I don’t know why the technician didn’t know about the Nero error log. I love having a computer at home, but I’m just not smart enough to know everything about it. And I sure miss the IT department at the company where I used to work!
It all a started when I first showed my husband how easy it was to use the computer to burn a copy of a home movie he had converted to a DVD disc. He was impressed and wanted to make more DVD copies. As luck would have it, though, the CD/DVD burner started malfunctioning shortly afterward. I tried updating the Nero burning software at a cost of $69, but to no avail. It was the hardware, and the drive was now incapable of burning, playing, or even recognizing any CD or DVD disc that was placed into it.
Not to worry, though. We had a service contract with Comp USA! I called. The part would be sent directly to our house, and as soon as it arrived, a technician would come out to install it. Naively, I assumed this would take place within a week or two. But when we left on our vacation trip over a month later, the part still hadn’t arrived.
When we returned from vacation, there was a message on our answering machine from Comp USA: please call to set an appointment time. According to Comp USA, the part had been delivered the day before we arrived home. But where was it? UPS left it on our porch, and apparently it had been lost or stolen. A replacement part had to be ordered.
Curiously, it arrived in only two weeks this time, and a technician installed it the next day. Before the technician left, I burned a test CD. It worked, and I was elated. Then I tried to make a disc-to-disc copy of my husband’s home movie DVD. Error message. The technician patiently explained that I couldn’t use a DVD disc in a CD burner. I patiently replied that the part he replaced was supposed to be a DVD burner. That was when we both realized that Comp USA had sent the wrong part!
The technician called Comp USA and reported the error. Comp USA wanted him to remove the new CD burner he had just installed, but he refused, for which I was grateful. At least I could now burn some photo CDs that I’d been waiting to do for a month. Meanwhile, a new part was ordered.
So we were back to square one, again waiting for a delivery. And again, when it arrived about a week later, it was the wrong part, a DVD ROM which, Comp USA admitted, wasn’t going to burn anything. Yet another part was ordered. Would number four be the charm??
Maybe. The right part arrive only a day or two later. We wondered why the first one took over a month. A different technician, a young woman, arrived to install it. This time, I cut right to the chase and tried making a disc-to-disc DVD copy. It appeared to work at first, but the DVD copy would not play. We tried again and again. It was getting late. The technician tried one more time, this time using a longer burning method, and left before it finished. See if it works, see if the discs play in another machine, try a different medium, she said as she headed for the door. If not, maybe the part is bad and we’ll have to order another one!
My husband, to say the least, was not a happy camper, and immediately called Comp USA, demanding that they send someone “that knows what they are doing.” We needed a trouble-shooter, since we had no idea whether it was a hardware or software problem, but Comp USA doesn’t make house calls for that sort of thing. We would have to bring the computer in. Since all Comp USA stores have disappeared from our area over the last couple of years, and the nearest service center is now two hours away, that was out of the question. I would either have to figure it out myself, or we would give up on the service contract and hire a private computer expert.
I studied the Nero manual from cover-to-cover trying to decipher any possible software issues, and eventually learned that there was an electronic log file on my hard drive that listed all the error messages when a process failed. I read the log, and most of it made no sense to me . . . except for one line out of seventeen pages that indicated a DVD +RW disc is not compatible with the Windows XT operating system on our computer. Perhaps all I needed was a different disc! After making the first DVD copy on a stray blank DVD disc, we had gone out and bought what we assumed were the best quality DVD discs in the store, the “plus” version. It was midnight and all the stores were closed, so I hardly slept all night, wondering if my problems would all be solved by the simple purchase of a different DVD disc, without the “plus.”
The next day, I bought a small package of blank DVD-R discs, took them home, and tried making the copy. Unbelievably, this time it worked.
So this story is ended, and I’m not sure that the message is. I don’t know why it took Comp USA four tries to get the right part to us, and I don’t know why the technician didn’t know about the Nero error log. I love having a computer at home, but I’m just not smart enough to know everything about it. And I sure miss the IT department at the company where I used to work!
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Moving On
Each time a major change occurs in our lives, whether it is a marriage, a death, a new job, a move to a different city, we have to reconstruct the pieces that make up our daily lives, like putting together a puzzle. After five months of being retired, I am still doing that.
The first thing I had to do was to disengage from my old routine: getting up at 6:00 AM, keeping the kitchen stocked with the ingredients to make my brown-bag lunch, putting out my wardrobe for the next day each night, and setting up the coffee maker before going to bed at 11:00. All of this was gone in the blink of an eye, as was driving to the office while listening to my favorite radio station, walking across the parking lot, turning on the computer to check my email, reading the daily company news, going for my noon walk, etc.
In place of that old, familiar routine, I began to add new things that I never had the time or energy to do before, things like making a healthy breakfast for myself each morning, working out at the gym three days a week, shopping for fresh food at the farmer’s market, going out to lunch with my husband. Errands are now spread throughout the week, instead of crammed into the week-end.
But after five months on this new, more relaxed routine, I felt like there was something missing. A big part of that was being a member of a community of people. Although I still keep in touch with my former co-workers, I no longer really “belong.” I missed having an independent existence that I could call my own. When I got into my car and drove to work each day, another part of my identity emerged, the part of my self that was out in the world “doing something” and using my expertise, energy and mind to solve problems, get things done, and be recognized for it. These are the things that I kept in mind as I pondered the various types of volunteer activities I could pursue.
The first volunteer position I have accepted in a local social services organization involves two afternoons a week at an office where the small permanent staff made me feel like part of the family immediately. Some of the duties will require me to “stretch” a little in developing my people and listening skills, which is one positive thing. More positive still is the fact that my incentive for being there is to help people in the community. Continuing to complete the puzzle of building my new routine will be an on-going process. Perhaps I will later want to add one or more different volunteer activities, or perhaps I will really click with this one and want to spend more hours here. By taking this first step into the world of community service, however, I feel like I truly have taken the final step in leaving my old life as a corporate employee and moving on.
The first thing I had to do was to disengage from my old routine: getting up at 6:00 AM, keeping the kitchen stocked with the ingredients to make my brown-bag lunch, putting out my wardrobe for the next day each night, and setting up the coffee maker before going to bed at 11:00. All of this was gone in the blink of an eye, as was driving to the office while listening to my favorite radio station, walking across the parking lot, turning on the computer to check my email, reading the daily company news, going for my noon walk, etc.
In place of that old, familiar routine, I began to add new things that I never had the time or energy to do before, things like making a healthy breakfast for myself each morning, working out at the gym three days a week, shopping for fresh food at the farmer’s market, going out to lunch with my husband. Errands are now spread throughout the week, instead of crammed into the week-end.
But after five months on this new, more relaxed routine, I felt like there was something missing. A big part of that was being a member of a community of people. Although I still keep in touch with my former co-workers, I no longer really “belong.” I missed having an independent existence that I could call my own. When I got into my car and drove to work each day, another part of my identity emerged, the part of my self that was out in the world “doing something” and using my expertise, energy and mind to solve problems, get things done, and be recognized for it. These are the things that I kept in mind as I pondered the various types of volunteer activities I could pursue.
The first volunteer position I have accepted in a local social services organization involves two afternoons a week at an office where the small permanent staff made me feel like part of the family immediately. Some of the duties will require me to “stretch” a little in developing my people and listening skills, which is one positive thing. More positive still is the fact that my incentive for being there is to help people in the community. Continuing to complete the puzzle of building my new routine will be an on-going process. Perhaps I will later want to add one or more different volunteer activities, or perhaps I will really click with this one and want to spend more hours here. By taking this first step into the world of community service, however, I feel like I truly have taken the final step in leaving my old life as a corporate employee and moving on.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Summertime, Summertime
Summer just isn’t the same when you’re an adult. When I was a kid, it was a big deal. School and studying were over for awhile, and the classmates I saw every day, as well as the teachers who had become so much a part of my life for the past school year, were suddenly no longer in the picture. I liked school and missed it during the summer. Still, I looked forward to the change.
Summer meant hot days cooling off at the beach or the local swimming pool; lots of idle time to read or ride my bike; car trips with my parents and my little sister to San Diego or San Francisco; and some years even a week at summer camp. Often, it also meant seeing my aunts and uncles and cousins from “back east.” When they came to visit, it gave us an excuse to go to Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm. Other years my dad sent my mom and my sister and I on an airplane to Minnesota for a long visit that included picnics, barbecues, and lake outings with my cousins. But summer always seemed to last longer than all the trips and visits and activities, and it ended with a stretch of idle time that left me bored and eager to return to school in September.
As I became an adult, the coming of summer no longer meant vacation trips and camp and relatives and outdoor activities, but merely the same old routine of work on weekdays and errands on weekends, for my schedule was now dictated by my job, not by the season, the weather, or the school system. Still, I’ve always retained some of that old excitement as the weather starts to warm and banners announcing street fairs, concerts in the park, and beach activities begin to appear. I always felt a tinge of regret when summer ended and I hadn’t taken enough time to enjoy it. Now I’m retired, and I am free to enjoy summer once again. Oh, there is no more summer camp, and my cousins are now grown up and have jobs and families, but the beach is ten minutes away, the days are long and the sunsets are beautiful. Life is good.
Summer meant hot days cooling off at the beach or the local swimming pool; lots of idle time to read or ride my bike; car trips with my parents and my little sister to San Diego or San Francisco; and some years even a week at summer camp. Often, it also meant seeing my aunts and uncles and cousins from “back east.” When they came to visit, it gave us an excuse to go to Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm. Other years my dad sent my mom and my sister and I on an airplane to Minnesota for a long visit that included picnics, barbecues, and lake outings with my cousins. But summer always seemed to last longer than all the trips and visits and activities, and it ended with a stretch of idle time that left me bored and eager to return to school in September.
As I became an adult, the coming of summer no longer meant vacation trips and camp and relatives and outdoor activities, but merely the same old routine of work on weekdays and errands on weekends, for my schedule was now dictated by my job, not by the season, the weather, or the school system. Still, I’ve always retained some of that old excitement as the weather starts to warm and banners announcing street fairs, concerts in the park, and beach activities begin to appear. I always felt a tinge of regret when summer ended and I hadn’t taken enough time to enjoy it. Now I’m retired, and I am free to enjoy summer once again. Oh, there is no more summer camp, and my cousins are now grown up and have jobs and families, but the beach is ten minutes away, the days are long and the sunsets are beautiful. Life is good.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
A Sad Anniversary
I woke up Monday morning feeling sad for no apparent reason. That cloud of gloom hung over me all day, and it wasn’t until the following morning that I realized I had “forgotten” the anniversary of my late husband Wayne’s death twelve years ago. After twelve years, my conscious mind barely acknowledges the day anymore, but something deeper doesn’t allow me to forget it.
I was on four days of bereavement leave for my father’s funeral when Wayne’s cancer entered its terminal stage. Still numb from my father’s sudden death, I managed to secure the services of a live-in attendant to help me care for Wayne at home. That Monday I felt that everything was under control and returned to work; but I was at work for only an hour when the attendant phoned me to return home immediately. The trip took 45 minutes in the freeway traffic, and when I arrived, Wayne was dead. He was about the same age I am now, an unfinished life.
The world has changed so much in those twelve years. Wayne died before the O.J. Simpson verdict, 9/11, and the Afghanistan and Iraq wars. Very few people had cell phones then, or had heard of iPods or digital cameras. I have also moved on, so that my life is now at a better place than I ever could have imagined at the time. Reflecting on Wayne’s death reminds me not to take life for granted, or to expect that life-changing events won’t happen again, but to count my blessings and enjoy each day that I am given on this earth.
I was on four days of bereavement leave for my father’s funeral when Wayne’s cancer entered its terminal stage. Still numb from my father’s sudden death, I managed to secure the services of a live-in attendant to help me care for Wayne at home. That Monday I felt that everything was under control and returned to work; but I was at work for only an hour when the attendant phoned me to return home immediately. The trip took 45 minutes in the freeway traffic, and when I arrived, Wayne was dead. He was about the same age I am now, an unfinished life.
The world has changed so much in those twelve years. Wayne died before the O.J. Simpson verdict, 9/11, and the Afghanistan and Iraq wars. Very few people had cell phones then, or had heard of iPods or digital cameras. I have also moved on, so that my life is now at a better place than I ever could have imagined at the time. Reflecting on Wayne’s death reminds me not to take life for granted, or to expect that life-changing events won’t happen again, but to count my blessings and enjoy each day that I am given on this earth.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Clean Sweep: Too Much Stuff, Part 2
One of my first projects after retirement has been to do a clean sweep of my house, that is, to get rid of all the junk and then reorganize everything to be neat and accessible. It is a daunting task.
I spent a couple of days stuffing several garbage bags full of shredded bank statements, paid bills, cancelled checks, and old receipts, all dating back to the late 1990’s. That left enough room in the top drawer of the file cabinet to put away all the papers that were piling up on the coffee table. I could do even more with the file cabinet, but have moved on for now. Shredding is hard work.
I also managed to organize the entertainment center in the living room by trashing piles of old magazines and cassette tapes. I haven’t played any of the cassettes in years, and considering that I now have a large library of CDs and an iPod, I never will. The cassettes took up a lot of needed space and will not be missed. The magazines were a little more difficult to part with, however. I often hold onto a magazine if I particularly liked an article or photo in that issue. But then, I never go back and look at it again, and the “favorite” issues continue to pile up over the years. I now have room for more books because the magazines are gone.
The mystery junk in the bedroom was the next to go. Mystery junk is all that stuff you didn’t know what to do with when you got it, but couldn’t quite bring yourself to throw away at the time. It also includes stuff that was useful once upon a time, but you can’t figure out why you still keep it around now. I had mystery junk in boxes on top of the dresser, as well as in one dresser drawer. It’s not too difficult to identify mystery junk, and even less difficult to part with it. My dresser top looks amazingly neat now. Even my husband managed to part with some of his mystery junk when one of his dresser drawers got so full that a piece of junk fell out the back, lodged into the runners, and caused the drawer to become stuck. After forcing the drawer open, he filled a trash bag full of mystery junk. The drawer now opens easily and he admits that it felt good to get rid of the stuff.
Finally, as a symbol of my departure from the corporate world, I gathered up all of the award certificates, pins, company publications, plaques, manuals, personnel files, and commemorative toys that seemed to be everywhere in the house and packed them away in a special box that now sits in the storage shed, a large chunk of my life now neatly packed away and part of “the Past.”
The clean sweep isn’t finished yet, but it’s on hold. I need a long break before tacking that kitchen. . . .
I spent a couple of days stuffing several garbage bags full of shredded bank statements, paid bills, cancelled checks, and old receipts, all dating back to the late 1990’s. That left enough room in the top drawer of the file cabinet to put away all the papers that were piling up on the coffee table. I could do even more with the file cabinet, but have moved on for now. Shredding is hard work.
I also managed to organize the entertainment center in the living room by trashing piles of old magazines and cassette tapes. I haven’t played any of the cassettes in years, and considering that I now have a large library of CDs and an iPod, I never will. The cassettes took up a lot of needed space and will not be missed. The magazines were a little more difficult to part with, however. I often hold onto a magazine if I particularly liked an article or photo in that issue. But then, I never go back and look at it again, and the “favorite” issues continue to pile up over the years. I now have room for more books because the magazines are gone.
The mystery junk in the bedroom was the next to go. Mystery junk is all that stuff you didn’t know what to do with when you got it, but couldn’t quite bring yourself to throw away at the time. It also includes stuff that was useful once upon a time, but you can’t figure out why you still keep it around now. I had mystery junk in boxes on top of the dresser, as well as in one dresser drawer. It’s not too difficult to identify mystery junk, and even less difficult to part with it. My dresser top looks amazingly neat now. Even my husband managed to part with some of his mystery junk when one of his dresser drawers got so full that a piece of junk fell out the back, lodged into the runners, and caused the drawer to become stuck. After forcing the drawer open, he filled a trash bag full of mystery junk. The drawer now opens easily and he admits that it felt good to get rid of the stuff.
Finally, as a symbol of my departure from the corporate world, I gathered up all of the award certificates, pins, company publications, plaques, manuals, personnel files, and commemorative toys that seemed to be everywhere in the house and packed them away in a special box that now sits in the storage shed, a large chunk of my life now neatly packed away and part of “the Past.”
The clean sweep isn’t finished yet, but it’s on hold. I need a long break before tacking that kitchen. . . .
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Too Much Stuff
In a world where so many people don’t have the basics for survival, we in this country are drowning in too much: too much information; too much food; too many things; too much waste. We can hardly keep up with the tidal wave of information we’re bombarded with on television, newspapers, the internet, email, and junk mail stuffed into our mailboxes. We go to a restaurant and are served a heaping platter of food that could feed a third world family for a week. Whole industries have been built around helping us organize and store all of the things we’re accumulating. And many of us constantly struggle with how to get rid of all the stuff we no longer need that seems to spill out of every drawer, box, and cupboard.
There are two types of people: those who love accumulating stuff and those who want to get rid of it. Being the second type, I spent several years clearing all of the junk out of my small house and garage, only to acquire a new husband of the first type. He brought with him carloads of stuff that we had to figure out what to do with. We ended up buying several new pieces of furniture to contain his clothing (over 100 logo T-shirts and Hawaiian shirts) and his collections of American Indian and farm artifacts, crystal, ceramic and resin figurines of all sorts, model cars and airplanes, souvenir magnets and drinking glasses, framed family photographs, lamps, plaques, clocks. At Christmas time, we also must make room for an extensive (and growing) display of holiday decorations stored in the garage. It has become my challenge to keep finding things to get rid of in order to make room for any new stuff he comes home with.
I suppose I could claim the higher moral ground by declaring that I place less importance on material things. But in reality, I can’t. My husband’s prized possessions are valued because they remind him of beloved people in his life, special events, places, and precious memories. I tend instead to rely on journals and photo albums to tell the story of my own life, with only a few special objects to supplement the memories. We all have our own ways of remembering our lives and telling our stories.
There are two types of people: those who love accumulating stuff and those who want to get rid of it. Being the second type, I spent several years clearing all of the junk out of my small house and garage, only to acquire a new husband of the first type. He brought with him carloads of stuff that we had to figure out what to do with. We ended up buying several new pieces of furniture to contain his clothing (over 100 logo T-shirts and Hawaiian shirts) and his collections of American Indian and farm artifacts, crystal, ceramic and resin figurines of all sorts, model cars and airplanes, souvenir magnets and drinking glasses, framed family photographs, lamps, plaques, clocks. At Christmas time, we also must make room for an extensive (and growing) display of holiday decorations stored in the garage. It has become my challenge to keep finding things to get rid of in order to make room for any new stuff he comes home with.
I suppose I could claim the higher moral ground by declaring that I place less importance on material things. But in reality, I can’t. My husband’s prized possessions are valued because they remind him of beloved people in his life, special events, places, and precious memories. I tend instead to rely on journals and photo albums to tell the story of my own life, with only a few special objects to supplement the memories. We all have our own ways of remembering our lives and telling our stories.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Getting Younger
Now that I’ve retired, I plan to get younger. If you haven’t been to http://www.realage.com/ and taken their test, try it! By answering a series of questions about your lifestyle and family history, you can see whether you are younger or older than your chronological age, and then get a personalized report on how to become “younger.” My score was good: nine years less than my actual age. Still, I just didn’t have as much energy or feel as good as I once did. Now I have time to do something about it, and have done three simple things: sleep, eat well, and sweat more.
I never used to get enough sleep. When I tried to go to bed early, I couldn’t fall asleep, but later bed times meant too few hours before the alarm. It took me a couple of weeks to finally start sleeping well, and it does make a difference, both mentally and physically.
As far as diet, the biggest change has been cutting back on sweets and white carbs, as well as eating more fruits, vegetables and lean protein. Fewer restaurant meals and more time to cook at home is one reason, but less stress eating, no more temptation to indulge in mindless office snacking, and easier access to a greater variety of healthy choices also makes things easier.
Finally, I am exercising more. I always walked during my lunch break at work, which led many people to assume I was an exercise fanatic. But I was really doing little else to keep in shape. My first visit to the gym was a shocker: my stamina, strength, and flexibility were all worse than I thought they would be, and I am now systematically working on all three.
Of course, you don’t have to be retired to do all of these things! In addition to checking out the Real Age website, another good resource is their book, You – The Owner’s Manual, by Michael F. Roizen and Mehmet C. Oz, full of good tips on how to get younger!
I never used to get enough sleep. When I tried to go to bed early, I couldn’t fall asleep, but later bed times meant too few hours before the alarm. It took me a couple of weeks to finally start sleeping well, and it does make a difference, both mentally and physically.
As far as diet, the biggest change has been cutting back on sweets and white carbs, as well as eating more fruits, vegetables and lean protein. Fewer restaurant meals and more time to cook at home is one reason, but less stress eating, no more temptation to indulge in mindless office snacking, and easier access to a greater variety of healthy choices also makes things easier.
Finally, I am exercising more. I always walked during my lunch break at work, which led many people to assume I was an exercise fanatic. But I was really doing little else to keep in shape. My first visit to the gym was a shocker: my stamina, strength, and flexibility were all worse than I thought they would be, and I am now systematically working on all three.
Of course, you don’t have to be retired to do all of these things! In addition to checking out the Real Age website, another good resource is their book, You – The Owner’s Manual, by Michael F. Roizen and Mehmet C. Oz, full of good tips on how to get younger!
Monday, May 7, 2007
On Swing Dancing and Flying Fish
One of the saddest things about becoming mature, responsible adults is that we seem to lose the ability to have fun along the way. It’s not easy to be spontaneous and play and laugh while dealing with all the pressures of a job and family and paying the bills, but we need fun to make life bearable and to get through the stressful times.
I took up swing dancing about a year after the deaths of two close family members. It was a great release, and for the first time in years, I experienced pure, exhilarating fun, the kind of fun I once felt as a child flying through the air on a playground swing. After awhile, though, as I took more and more lessons to improve my technique and style, performance anxiety set in and the pressure to be a better dancer grew. I started taking swing dancing seriously, and in doing so introduced stress into what had once been a purely fun activity.
Part of re-learning to have fun, I think, is making an effort to NOT take things too seriously. My former work group had a unique way of doing this: they strung large, colorful, stuffed fish from the ceilings above their desks and accessorized them according to the seasons. The sheer ridiculousness of the fish helped them to laugh at themselves and became a creative outlet and bonding mechanism for the group. Unfortunately, when the group came under new management, the fish were banished from sight. They were seen as “unprofessional.” Although the flying fish did not hinder productivity in any way, the message from management was clear: fun and work do not mix. Our adult egos tend to view anything fun with suspicion or guilt. The fish were neither threatening nor subversive. They were merely silly. But as sometimes happens, the trivial takes on a deeper importance when taken away.
It often seems that when life is toughest, the reaction is to ban all fun and get serious. Maybe it’s time to re-think that natural reaction and look for ways to lighten up when the going gets rough.
I took up swing dancing about a year after the deaths of two close family members. It was a great release, and for the first time in years, I experienced pure, exhilarating fun, the kind of fun I once felt as a child flying through the air on a playground swing. After awhile, though, as I took more and more lessons to improve my technique and style, performance anxiety set in and the pressure to be a better dancer grew. I started taking swing dancing seriously, and in doing so introduced stress into what had once been a purely fun activity.
Part of re-learning to have fun, I think, is making an effort to NOT take things too seriously. My former work group had a unique way of doing this: they strung large, colorful, stuffed fish from the ceilings above their desks and accessorized them according to the seasons. The sheer ridiculousness of the fish helped them to laugh at themselves and became a creative outlet and bonding mechanism for the group. Unfortunately, when the group came under new management, the fish were banished from sight. They were seen as “unprofessional.” Although the flying fish did not hinder productivity in any way, the message from management was clear: fun and work do not mix. Our adult egos tend to view anything fun with suspicion or guilt. The fish were neither threatening nor subversive. They were merely silly. But as sometimes happens, the trivial takes on a deeper importance when taken away.
It often seems that when life is toughest, the reaction is to ban all fun and get serious. Maybe it’s time to re-think that natural reaction and look for ways to lighten up when the going gets rough.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
A Final Word About Work
You hear a lot about how the coming wave of baby-boomer retirements is going to swamp the Social Security and Medicare systems. I’ve even read some articles on how the government and businesses need to encourage us to continue working longer, in order to keep the economy and the national budget healthy, as well as to stave off an impending brain drain and labor shortage in the business world. Encourage us how?
As far as I’m concerned, the way to encourage people to keep working is to make them love their jobs, and give them enough flexibility to have a fulfilling, healthy life outside of work. However, the trend in business seems to be just the opposite: more mergers that produce gigantic conglomerates where people feel like numbers; “streamlining” initiatives designed to squeeze more productivity out of fewer employees; the constant threat of being downsized, outsourced, re-engineered. Even the wonders of modern technology, the cell phones, pagers, blackberries and laptops are often used not to make work easier, but to make it harder to escape from it, even at home. Few companies have programs to retain retirement-aged workers or any workers, for that matter.
Of course, we all know that companies are in business to make money; we’ve heard it often enough. Their primary purpose is not to have happy employees and not to help the federal government bail out Social Security and Medicare. Ultimately they are going to do what they must to remain profitable, we are going to do what we must to live fulfilled and happy lives, and the two don’t always coincide.
Perhaps the way to help our country’s economy without working into the grave is by keeping healthy and volunteering our time in ways that will give back to society. One of the staggering opportunities of having free time in retirement is the chance to do meaningful work for no pay at all. I know that many employed people are dedicated community volunteers, but many are also like I was, too caught up in the insular world of the corporation to look beyond at the greater world. I scan the web and find almost too many opportunities to get involved in something that has meaning. It may take me awhile to find the perfect fit – but that will be my next big project.
As far as I’m concerned, the way to encourage people to keep working is to make them love their jobs, and give them enough flexibility to have a fulfilling, healthy life outside of work. However, the trend in business seems to be just the opposite: more mergers that produce gigantic conglomerates where people feel like numbers; “streamlining” initiatives designed to squeeze more productivity out of fewer employees; the constant threat of being downsized, outsourced, re-engineered. Even the wonders of modern technology, the cell phones, pagers, blackberries and laptops are often used not to make work easier, but to make it harder to escape from it, even at home. Few companies have programs to retain retirement-aged workers or any workers, for that matter.
Of course, we all know that companies are in business to make money; we’ve heard it often enough. Their primary purpose is not to have happy employees and not to help the federal government bail out Social Security and Medicare. Ultimately they are going to do what they must to remain profitable, we are going to do what we must to live fulfilled and happy lives, and the two don’t always coincide.
Perhaps the way to help our country’s economy without working into the grave is by keeping healthy and volunteering our time in ways that will give back to society. One of the staggering opportunities of having free time in retirement is the chance to do meaningful work for no pay at all. I know that many employed people are dedicated community volunteers, but many are also like I was, too caught up in the insular world of the corporation to look beyond at the greater world. I scan the web and find almost too many opportunities to get involved in something that has meaning. It may take me awhile to find the perfect fit – but that will be my next big project.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
My Town - Then and Now
I still live in the town where I grew up, only a few blocks from the house where I was raised and where my parents lived for over 40 years. It’s really not the same town as it was then, however. Things change.
My first day at the elementary school, I walked home. I remember that walk home clearly because I got lost. Although it was only two short blocks, straight ahead, to my house, I thought it was only supposed to be one block, and when I walked one block and didn’t recognize the house, I panicked and went in the opposite direction. But I managed to get home okay. I was six or seven years old. Flash forward to 2007. Our neighbor’s child goes to the same school, but now the school requires a parent pick up each child after school; no child is allowed to walk home unaccompanied. If someone other than a parent picks them up, that person must be registered with the school ahead of time. When I was a child, I remember being taught not to accept rides or candy from strangers, but I don’t think anything ever happened to warrant the level of caution that we see in schools today.
Something else was different: none of my friends’ mothers and none of the mothers on my block had jobs outside of the home. Only a couple of them had their own cars. When I came home from school, my mom was either at home or visiting with one of the neighbors, all of whom we knew. At the time, though, it was still possible to buy a home in a decent, if not fancy, neighborhood on only one income. (I think my parents bought their house for less than I paid for my Toyota!) That has changed gradually over the years, and by the time my mother sold the house around 1997, the neighborhood had changed and seemed much less close-knit, with very few of the old neighbors still there. That house has been re-sold at least three times since; the last time it was listed for $599,000. If I had a spare $599,000, I’m not sure I’d buy it, though. It wouldn’t be the same. You really can’t go home again.
My first day at the elementary school, I walked home. I remember that walk home clearly because I got lost. Although it was only two short blocks, straight ahead, to my house, I thought it was only supposed to be one block, and when I walked one block and didn’t recognize the house, I panicked and went in the opposite direction. But I managed to get home okay. I was six or seven years old. Flash forward to 2007. Our neighbor’s child goes to the same school, but now the school requires a parent pick up each child after school; no child is allowed to walk home unaccompanied. If someone other than a parent picks them up, that person must be registered with the school ahead of time. When I was a child, I remember being taught not to accept rides or candy from strangers, but I don’t think anything ever happened to warrant the level of caution that we see in schools today.
Something else was different: none of my friends’ mothers and none of the mothers on my block had jobs outside of the home. Only a couple of them had their own cars. When I came home from school, my mom was either at home or visiting with one of the neighbors, all of whom we knew. At the time, though, it was still possible to buy a home in a decent, if not fancy, neighborhood on only one income. (I think my parents bought their house for less than I paid for my Toyota!) That has changed gradually over the years, and by the time my mother sold the house around 1997, the neighborhood had changed and seemed much less close-knit, with very few of the old neighbors still there. That house has been re-sold at least three times since; the last time it was listed for $599,000. If I had a spare $599,000, I’m not sure I’d buy it, though. It wouldn’t be the same. You really can’t go home again.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
The Endless Weekend
If you’re not sure what it would be like to retire, think about your typical weekend. If you spend every week-end doing a hobby, sport, or activity that you’re passionate about, that’s what you’ll probably end up doing more of when you retire. And if, like me, you attack the weekend with a long list of appointments and errands to run, things to get done around the house, as well as fun things you want to do, then go back to work with a heavy heart because the list didn’t get done, well, you probably won’t be bored when you retire but, like me, will wonder at the end of each day why you didn’t manage to get in your exercise and why the bathroom still isn’t cleaned. The only difference is, you won’t have to wait until next weekend to continue with the list. Every day is the weekend. There’s a certain feeling of peace in knowing that you really don’t have to finish it all in two days, that there’s always tomorrow. Eventually, you might even come to the realization that you really can take a whole day to work on your scrapbook or go to the beach or museum or zoo, or write in your journal or read a good book. Yes, it’s nice. But there’s also the danger of lethargy setting in from the lack of urgency. After about a week of it, I started to worry: Am I going to lose my edge and turn into a lazy slob? After having a job all of my adult life, it is a little hard to let go. The lack of structure is both wonderful and uncomfortable. I don’t miss the job I left as much as the idea of having a job.
Some people say that they would like to retire so they can travel more. I will no doubt do a little traveling now that I’m retired, but probably no more than I would have done if I were still working. If you want to travel, don’t wait until you retire. I say, do it now. When you’re working, you have the money for vacations and you have a whole bunch of people to show your vacation pictures to when you get back. Plus, you need to get away from the job and de-stress, don’t you? I don’t know how many sad stories I’ve heard about people who wanted to wait until retirement to take their dream vacations and then had some tragedy, an illness or the death of a spouse, strike soon after retirement. Whatever it is you dream of doing, don’t delay. Do it now, and retire with wonderful memories instead of regrets.
Some people say that they would like to retire so they can travel more. I will no doubt do a little traveling now that I’m retired, but probably no more than I would have done if I were still working. If you want to travel, don’t wait until you retire. I say, do it now. When you’re working, you have the money for vacations and you have a whole bunch of people to show your vacation pictures to when you get back. Plus, you need to get away from the job and de-stress, don’t you? I don’t know how many sad stories I’ve heard about people who wanted to wait until retirement to take their dream vacations and then had some tragedy, an illness or the death of a spouse, strike soon after retirement. Whatever it is you dream of doing, don’t delay. Do it now, and retire with wonderful memories instead of regrets.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
What Does Work Mean
My first job at the age of 17 was a great source of pride. It gave me a feeling of independence and a taste of what the real world outside of school was like. In addition, I learned about Italian meats and cheeses and how to make great deli sandwiches, knowledge that I still retain today. I job-hopped frequently over the next several years, sometimes for the flimsiest of reasons; but every job, no matter how short my stay, taught me something useful: from wrapping beautiful gifts, to checking income tax forms, to calculating payroll checks, to learning to use a computer.
Looking back, I think I changed jobs a lot because I was curious what it would be like to work for different types of companies. It was a way to keep from getting bored once the job became too easy and routine. Still, I always worked and always loved the idea of having a job, if not always the work itself. I enjoyed getting dressed up, getting in my car, and having some place to go every day. My jobs gave me both self-esteem and a community. The people I worked with were often the only friends I had, outside of my family. For most of my working life, the idea of retiring early would have seemed ridiculous because my job, whatever job I had at the time, was my life.
In a wonderful 1974 book called Working, author Studs Terkel interviewed people from different walks of life about their jobs and how they felt about the work they did every day. Clearly, most people consider their jobs a big part of their identity and have a lot of physical and emotional energy invested there, for better or for worse. I, too, believed that I would someday find an ideal job that I couldn’t quite define, though no job seemed to fit the bill. Somewhere along the line, I wound up at a large corporation, acquired a house with a mortgage that had to be paid, and remained with the company for the next 27 years, some of which were relatively happy and some of which were not. Gradually, working became less of a great adventure and more of a chore to be endured as a means to an end.
So what does work mean? At its most basic, we trade our time to perform a service that the employer requires in exchange for a paycheck and, hopefully, benefits to secure our future. At its most ideal, we give our whole selves, our convictions, our talents, our personalities, in exchange for the opportunity to do something we love. Most employers would say they want employees who embody the latter. But do they do anything to earn it? That is the subject of another post.
Looking back, I think I changed jobs a lot because I was curious what it would be like to work for different types of companies. It was a way to keep from getting bored once the job became too easy and routine. Still, I always worked and always loved the idea of having a job, if not always the work itself. I enjoyed getting dressed up, getting in my car, and having some place to go every day. My jobs gave me both self-esteem and a community. The people I worked with were often the only friends I had, outside of my family. For most of my working life, the idea of retiring early would have seemed ridiculous because my job, whatever job I had at the time, was my life.
In a wonderful 1974 book called Working, author Studs Terkel interviewed people from different walks of life about their jobs and how they felt about the work they did every day. Clearly, most people consider their jobs a big part of their identity and have a lot of physical and emotional energy invested there, for better or for worse. I, too, believed that I would someday find an ideal job that I couldn’t quite define, though no job seemed to fit the bill. Somewhere along the line, I wound up at a large corporation, acquired a house with a mortgage that had to be paid, and remained with the company for the next 27 years, some of which were relatively happy and some of which were not. Gradually, working became less of a great adventure and more of a chore to be endured as a means to an end.
So what does work mean? At its most basic, we trade our time to perform a service that the employer requires in exchange for a paycheck and, hopefully, benefits to secure our future. At its most ideal, we give our whole selves, our convictions, our talents, our personalities, in exchange for the opportunity to do something we love. Most employers would say they want employees who embody the latter. But do they do anything to earn it? That is the subject of another post.
Things That Matter
This blog is about things that matter to me and, I’m willing to bet, to you too, things like work, relationships, health, security, and the strange, twisting journey that we all take through life. It is my way of sharing a little bit of what I’ve learned over the last half century with my friends and family, with the hope that some of you will be moved to take part in the discussions offered up. Here’s a preview of some ideas I’m working on for future posts:
Money vs things
The average worker vs. corporate America today
Too Much Multi-tasking/Over-scheduling
Staying fit, eating healthy
The health insurance crisis
What are the things that matter to you? Please share your ideas. If you come up with a topic that I know little about, I may even have you write a post and be my Guest Blogger!
Money vs things
The average worker vs. corporate America today
Too Much Multi-tasking/Over-scheduling
Staying fit, eating healthy
The health insurance crisis
What are the things that matter to you? Please share your ideas. If you come up with a topic that I know little about, I may even have you write a post and be my Guest Blogger!
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