Christmas 2011

We attended the Christmas Eve Candlelight service at church and focused on the birth of our Savior, God in human form, baby form, humble form.  How fascinating, that God chose to experience our humanity, in the flesh.  

The Nativity set there is really special.   Predictably, so also was the music of the evening.  The brass accompaniment to all the hymns created a celebratory note for the singing.  I think my favorite song by the choir was "Mary,  Did you Know".  The first time I ever heard that song I was inside
a high security prison with the choir from the church I served at that time.  I remember the faces.  The male inmates were deeply
touched by that song.

Gerry and I, and our Long Island children opened one another's gifts at home, and then had a big Christmas  breakfast.  This year, oldest daughter Brenda hosted our family meal at her house, so cooking duties were much lighter for me than usual.

She was cooking for twelve, but had enough food for twice that many!  Everyone was so full.  It would have been fine, except for the many tempting and
tasty appetizers, before the meal..

We enjoyed one another's company, many fun gifts,  lots of food and laughter, and lively little girls!
Here, Sadie is eating some of the banana nut bread I included in everyone's Christmas baskets.  She is an adorable little imp.

 As the day progressed, everyone began to fade, with full bellies and a warm room.

Also, as the day progressed, it became painfully obvious that the various pains I had been experiencing for the past few weeks was clearly sinus pressure and extreme discomfort.  The sinus areas in my face began to ache and hurt miserably.  Then one eyelid started to swell and puff up and itch.   

I did go to a doctor today and get the much needed prescriptions, and hopefully tomorrow I will feel like a new person.  I cannot wait for that!  Despite my aches and pains, it was a very very good Christmas enjoyed by everyone in the family!  Thank God for a loving family!

Our cup runneth over!

Christmas Baskets

For each one of my four children's households,  I have created Christmas Baskets.   In each one, there is something that I made with the sewing machine.  Those items all tend to be of the domestic type.  I enjoyed many creative hours making something for everyone.

Each basket is personalized with some unique gifts for each person, or persons.  Hopefully, none of my children will read this blog before tomorrow, Christmas Day.  That seems unlikely, but just in case,  I will not give real specifics.  Except this:   In my oldest daughter's basket, there are two small pillows that I made with fabric she gave me.  Those are for the two little grand-daughters.

Each basket also contains some things that I baked or cooked.  So these are pretty much "homemade" baskets.  I do hope each family enjoys their baskets as much as I enjoyed putting them together.

Merry Christmas to all, and Peace on Earth!

Cantata Sunday

My real, true Christmas experience was delivered to me this morning in the form of a Christmas Cantata.  And as usual, it was spectacular. Together for Christmas left no talent unturned. There were narrators, a full component of choir members, and instrumentalists. (Synthesized strings, Synthesizer, Flute, Guitar, Bass Guitar, Violin, Percussion, Tambourine, Chimes.) Also, various soloists.

 Of course, I cannot forget the director, and the pianist.  Together they do such high quality work.  I am sorry that I forgot to take a picture of the pianist.  I was close enough to do that.  Next time, I will.

I was reflecting on why it is, perhaps, that I receive Christmas from musical form rather than a sermon.  I suspect that is because there are probably not very many Christmas-themed sermons that I have not heard or preached myself. (Plus, truthfully, my mind is likely to wander off on what I might have said, or how I might have said it.)  But I cannot do music, so music is always fresh and new.

These musicians are top notch, disciplined, practiced, talented, and committed, and best of all, joyful!   And so it is that for me, Christ came down at Christmas, through them.

Edgy

Bridesmaids

"Edgy" is a word I often hear.  It seems to apply to movies,  television shows, fashion, haircuts, and anything style related.  Often, 'edgy' seems to be the goal.  We are in a time of   'edginess'.  

 But honestly,  I don't get it.   As I ponder the question, I have to ask myself what is the opposite?  Is it by chance 'wholesome'?  Or perhaps 'homespun'.  Or maybe ordinary?  What exactly is it over/against?  Definitely, sentimentality.  It is certainly as far as one can get from the Father Knows Best and Brady Bunch shows of the 1950's.  Maybe being 'edgy' is a rebellious reaction to being 'straight'....as in walking the straight and narrow.   Edginess certainly desires to push the boundaries of: modesty,  courtesy,  civility.   It almost always involves being sexually explicit.  Innuendo is from a bygone era!

You could not pay me to watch it, but I see in the TV guide that Fear Factor is back on television, and this time, it is much more gross.  Recently I watched a Netflix movie that I thought I would enjoy.  I like to see a good chick flick from time to time.  This one was supposed to be a laugh out loud comedy.  I was quite disappointed.  I am certainly not a prude, especially not when it comes to movies.  But that one was just gratuitously gross!  It almost seemed like the movie maker was trying to out-gross gross guy movies.

As an observer of culture,  it seems to me that edgy might be a good word to describe the first decade of the twenty first century.  Unfortunately.

New Tradition

Finally!   At long last we have arrived at that new Christmas tradition for which I have waited so patiently.    I haven't gone with Gerry the past couple of years to pick up, pick out the Christmas tree (primarily because I wanted an artificial one).   This year he said it was too much for him to do alone.  We no longer have the pickup truck, and transporting a tree is no easy trick.

We just finished putting up and decorating our "new tree", which hopefully will be with us for many years to come.  You just bring it up from the basement.   I love the fact that I will not be fighting with pine needles on my white carpet for the next six months.  I will not need to water the tree every day or so.  I will be kinder to the environment by not killing a living tree.

Going out and cutting down a live tree is something that families (parents and children) do together.   Our children have long ago left the nest.  The youngest now has a house of her own to decorate, and I'm sure she will have the real tree of her dreams.  Another daughter lives in the woods and can just cut any tree they want from their own property.  In fact, there is already an inside tree, and also one on the front porch beautifully decorated.

I am so glad to simplify!  And it is symmetrical and beautiful!    

Shower

We are fortunate to have such an extended family, which keeps us on the go.  Yesterday, there was a baby shower to attend.  It was good to see grandchildren and an assortment of daughters, daughter in-laws, and other relatives. The mother-to-be got lots of beautiful gifts.  I was amazed at how pleased she genuinely seemed to receive the baby quilt that I made.

We had good conversations and a good time.  Gerry's daughter, who is a person on a very spiritual journey, always engages me in conversation of that ilk.  As I reflect on that conversation, I realized that I learned a lot about myself.  "Insight" is a big part of the spiritual journey. The more one learns about their inner stuff, the clearer the pathway to the divine.

Basically, I learned what it is I need to be working on, spiritually.   Essentially, that is to cultivate new pathways for my own relationship with God.  For a very long time, my direct connection, where I felt a dynamic partnership with God, centered around studying, preparing and delivering God's Word to the people of God.  Now that that is no longer my primary activity,  I have not found as powerful a way to that connection.  Maybe I am a bit adrift in that area, and have work that yet needs to be done.

It is through our relationships with others that we learn about ourselves and our relationship with God.  In fact, that brings to mind how I felt so long ago, when Gerry and I first got together.  I felt so blessed and empowered by his love, that it gave me a whole new understanding of what God is like.

Life goes on.  We are hurt.  We are healed.  And the whole cycle repeats itself.

Christmas Letter

Years ago, I stopped writing those multi-copied Christmas letters you receive inside a Christmas card.  Instead, I decided that I would write a personal note in each one.  It seemed presumptuous to me to assume that anyone would want to read a two page epistle about our lives.

I'm not going to do one this year either,  but if I were, I know just what it would say.  It would go something like this.

With our large extended family, we enjoy many family events and celebrations.  Bar Mitzvahs,  grandchildren's plays and volleyball games.  Birthdays, anniversaries, family meals and visits.  Next year will bring the first great-grandchildren into our lives  (Gerry's).

Gerry and I enjoy playing tennis as many days as possible during the season.  During the winter, he skis and I domesticate.  (read, sew, cook, clean, write, shop, lunch, etc.)

In the New Year, we are looking forward to celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary.  This is our "big one", in lieu a fiftieth.  We had celebrations at our tenth and twenty fifth. This is our equivalent golden anniversary celebration because we doubt we'll make it that far.  We're going to plan a dinner with a slide show and entertainment for our family and friends---really something to look forward to.

We are very blessed to enjoy good health, which makes everything else possible.  Every day of life is a gift to be cherished.  While we may not travel a great deal and lead exciting lives by other peoples' measures,  I am confident that we do live full lives, overflowing with a maximum of love and joy.

Tis the season.

Leading

Once in a while, I must admit, I really miss leading worship.  I put it that way, because for me, leading worship was by far my favorite aspect of the ministry.  I relished every single aspect of that, and planned ahead in three month blocks, in order to maximum participation by others, and to facilitate the most high quality worship service possible.  While I do/did love preaching, for me, worship was always about the entire service and how it all fit together, not just about the sermon.  The scripture for the day was always the foundation around which the rest was built.  I would not be shy about saying this is something at which I excelled, and had significant gifts.

But of course, leading a congregation has so many other aspects to it. There was also the need for pastoral care, and for counseling. At tending to the spiritual needs and nurturing of the flock , I do believe I was more than adequate.

Leading an organization (local church) requires a completely different skill set, and being a leader in an organization (denomination) requires a kind of toughness that I never could quite muster.  It is this last category that contributed the most to my decision to retire.  If ministry were all about worship and people, I'd still be at it.   But it is also about business and management, meetings and numbers. I managed to do these things as required,  and with success, but never with passion and joy.

If ever an opportunity comes along that is mostly about leading worship,  I'll grab it!  But in my heart I know that "church" is far more complicated than that.

Once in a while, I sorely miss having the opportunity to use my gifts.

Women's Shoes

One of the things that I notice these days is women's shoes.  At a meeting where a group of women are gathered  (and at meetings I attend, they tend to be over fifty),  I always look around at everyone's feet.

I remember with some fondness (and a lot of pain) those very spiky high heels that women once wore.  Back when I was working at the university, I used to park in the parking lot a significant distance away, and walk to my office in four inch heels.  Of course, that is probably the reason why I have such terrible foot problems today. Nowadays, women are more practical and walk in sneakers, and carry their dressier shoes with them.

 There is still a tiny bit of me that wishes I could wear heels.   Of course the days of wearing high heels are long gone.  One inch heels would be good;  two inch would be even better.  Even those days are long gone as well.

   Even dressy flats would be a joy to wear.   But I have to use orthopedic inserts in my shoes because of plantar fasciitis issues.   I also need thick soles on my shoes, for the same reason.  Fallen muscles;  fallen arches. Sixty plus and fallen everything!

Sadly, I must admit that now my shoes often look like the "old lady" shoes I always wanted to avoid wearing.  I couldn't understand for the life of me why older women would wear "old lady shoes".   Now, I understand completely.

There really is no choice in the matter at all!


I do remember envying Frieda, a wonderful ninety year old lady from one of my churches.  I was so impressed when she wore high heeled boots to her birthday party.

Another observation I've made lately---the older women who wear heels are very slight of build.  I guess the feet stay healthier when they don't have very much to carry around.

 Here's the bright side.  With the right sneakers, and the right inserts, I can play ninety minutes of vigorous tennis.   That is worth more to me than any pair of shoes I might wish I could wear!

Phone Call

Yesterday morning I received a very shocking phone call.  It was from a friend with whom I had just had lunch the day before.  I was surprised to hear her voice so early in the morning.  She said she had sad news to share, and went on to tell me that the pastor of her church, who has only been there for three years, was traveling with her daughter in Portland, Oregon, and unexpectedly passed away.  She thought she had a pinched nerve in her leg,  but that turned out to be a blood clot.

I served a church not so long ago, where they lost their pastor to cancer.  For a congregation to lose a beloved pastor is a traumatic, painful, and long-lasting loss.  The  clergywoman who just died is probably ten years younger than I am, so that also makes the news even more shocking.  I do know her from having worshiped at that church, though I could not claim a personal relationship.  When a pastor preaches weekly and shares their faith, hoping and trying to inspire others,  the congregants all at least feel like they have a deep personal relationship with their minister.

It's hard for me to even imagine what those folks will have to go through, and it will take a long long time to recover.  In fact, the grief will last for years. I wish there were some way that I could help.  I did offer.

My heart goes out to that family, to my friend, and to all the folks who are still trying to get their heads wrapped around such an unexpected death.

In a moment, with no warning, it can all be over.

Not Publishing

 A friend recently read my blog about not publishing my book (novel), and suggested e-publishing.  I 'asked Google' about that last night and learned quite a bit about the process.  There are multiple "electronic publishers" out there, from Barnes and Nobles, to Lulu, to Amazon.    They serve as the "holder" of the book  (store), but one still has to sell their book,  have a marketing strategy,  get the word out. [They suggest standing on street corners handing out flyers.]

I immediately decided that would not work for me. Of course, I had to take a good hard look and figure out why I would immediately throw up that "stopper".  I think there are multiple reasons, some more complex than others.

First, I felt that most of the people I might want to tell about my book being in the "store" are not really all that computer proficient.  I have one friend with a Kendle reader, but I don't think that many of my generation and acquaintances are into that.  To purchase a book on-line, one has to download it to an electronic device, such as a reader or an iPad.

Second,  I discovered that I am much too shy to "promote" myself.  This has always been true, even when that promotion would definitely be expected and beneficial.  That no doubt comes from my childhood,  where one was never expected to build themselves up, think too highly of themselves, or think you are better than anyone else.  (I wonder now if perhaps that mostly applied to women?)


The more complicated reason has to do with the book itself.  It has some really dark sections.  It has sexual content.  It is just not like me at all!  At least, not like the upbeat and cheerful (and the pastorly image) I like to convey.   Of course, when I wrote the book,  I had intended that it be entirely secular (thinking that as a retired person I would have removed all the clergy constraints].   In reality,  it has much spiritual, biblical, and religious content--so much so that I seriously doubt it would appeal to any 'mass market'.

I really do believe that it is a well written book of women's literary fiction.  Perhaps the hang-up is that I find it hard to promote, because its content is contrary to my self-image.  All of this is true, plus more that I am choosing not to reveal here.

But maybe, just maybe, the bottom line is that I cannot handle the rejection.

Trial and Error

When it comes to my life,  I can honestly say that I have definitely had more than my share of both of those......trials, and errors.   Trials, as in challenges to overcome.  Errors as in poor choices, big mistakes.

At this stage of my life at the moment,  I am teaching myself to sew by trial and error.  I definitely do read the directions and try to do as they say,  but I' ve discovered that I cannot visualize the concrete steps and achieve the desired results.  The truth of the matter is,  I am much better in the abstract than in the concrete.  I work well with symbolism and metaphor.   I can understand life and explain complex concepts with those.

So far, just about everything I have tried to sew I have had to take completely apart after I have done it wrong.  That is extremely tedious.   But I have done that, wanting to see if I can produce the desired object.  It's not that I have a need for the object, or a specific use for it.   It has mostly been about the challenge.

A friend commented to me recently that I am much more "adventurous" than she is when it comes to sewing.  I'm sure that is because we have different aims, and desires and goals.

I had this idea that I wanted a wool plaid cap. It even had a purpose in my mind---to cover up my hair when I was having a "bad hair day."

Eventually,  through trial and error, the cap came to life. It is a little too large for my head at the moment,  but I can adjust that.

My next project is a baby quilt.....thankfully, [hopefully]  something I know how to do.  At least, I have done it before.

Evelyn

Recent conversations brought to mind a dear old friend, Evelyn.   I met her in my early twenties, and she was a part of my life until she died twenty something years later.  Evelyn was larger than life.  She was a person of tremendous faith, about which she was always vocal.  She was also generous, warm, loud, fun, loving, maternal and everyone's "grandma".   Evelyn was loved by all who knew her.

In my early thirties, things were not going very well for me. My marriage fell apart and I was left alone with three small children, to fend for myself, indeed just to survive.  Evelyn (and sometimes her family) became my family.  My own family lived far far away, so I had to 'make family' wherever I could.  Mostly, my family was 'the church'.  But for quite a while, Evelyn was my friend, my confidant, my support system, even my babysitter occasionally.

We did come from different faith traditions, however.  Evelyn was a die-hard Baptist, who spoke that specific language of faith.  By that I mean that she had one question of everyone she encountered:  Have you been saved?  

That's never been my favorite question.   I had always grown up (Wesleyan)  believing that you were saved by your baptism, your confirmation, your confession,  your beliefs,  your practices.   To Evelyn, it was all about that one moment of conversion.  Everyone was supposed to be able to name the time and the moment and the place when they were born again.

My tendency is to think that we are continually 'born again'.   At any rate,  thinking of this dear old friend gave me a vision, which I cherish.  In a clear mental picture,  I saw that Evelyn was on my committee, my welcoming committee---the one that greets you and embraces you and  ushers you over to the other realm.   I'm confident that if there is anyone who would be there on my welcoming committee, it is Evelyn.

And that really gives me something to look forward to!

Contrasting Fabric

I am in the process of teaching myself to sew.  My oldest daughter Brenda always shakes her head in disbelief whenever I produce something  (little purses for the girls).   She's never known me to sew before.  And the truth is,  I haven't very much.  I sewed a bit as a youth on my mother's sewing machine,  but never really enjoyed it or got the knack of it.  I was way too impatient.  (still am a bit).

With every project, I discover my many limitations.  The most significant one is---I cannot follow directions very well.  (nothing new there).  I cannot really read and interpret a pattern. (serious deficiency).  I don't know how to do most things at all.  All my sewing projects end up being trial and error.  Once in a while, it turns out to be mostly error.

But I am learning.  I think that is the point.  Maybe some day I'll be a master at it.  Right now, I am a novice.  I chose not to do quilting because it seemed so tedious with all those small pieces of fabric.  Or maybe it was the geometry and math that intimidated me.  I haven't found anything that is not tedious.

Am I enjoying it?  Well, it is kind of like solving a crossword puzzle.  I struggle and struggle over it,  make mistakes, figure out one thing, which leads to figuring out another.  The enjoyment comes more from solving a puzzle than from taking great pride in my product.

But for posterity,  here is a picture of my purse of contrasting fabrics.

Sermon Response

At lunch today with my group of clergy friends, Cath said to the group,  "Yesterday, I heard a most interesting worldview, one I have never heard before."   My heart sank.  I knew she was going to say something about my sermon.  I had preached the day before at Fayetteville, and she had been there.   That she would bring it up at the lunch table among friends gave me trepidation. Should I jump in immediately, and stop any conversation before it got started?  After all,  the rest of the women did not know that I was the one she was talking about!

Cath went on to mention this new theological idea she had learned from the preacher's sermon, and she then said what it was.  The first, immediate response from several was,  "I think that is biblical."  (I was so relieved).  This theory is indeed biblical, in that it happened several times in the bible.  But my theological point took it another step, and made some inferences about the implications.    I did jump in soon into the conversation, so that none of us would be embarrassed (or hurt perhaps) when everyone realized that it was me Cath was talking about.   I did take it as a huge compliment that my sermon gave her pause to consider a theological point she had never considered before.  Cath herself is clergy;  her husband is also, and was a district superintendent.  Cath has heard more sermons than most people in several lifetimes.  It was also a compliment that she would still be thinking about it the next day!

My sermons always do seem to get many positive comments.  I don't want to blow my own horn here,  but there was one remark after the service from a nice lady that I thought was priceless.  She came up to me, and took my hand and said,  "Nancy,  when you were here, and we heard your sermons every week,  we just didn't realize how powerful they always are."    

I thought that was classic, and so typically human.  We have a tendency not to really appreciate what we have, until after it is gone.  

Worst Brownies

We often go to the Thursday night dinner and program at church.  Lately, because of food issues,  I've opted to go to the program, but not the potluck. Gerry enjoys going to the dinner, so he was in the process of making brownies.   Somewhere in that process, we discovered that the oven was not heating up properly.  It took fifteen minutes for it to get up to 110 degrees, so that did not look very promising.  Further examination revealed that the broiler burner at the top of the stove was working, but the bottom element at the bottom was producing no heat.  So we turned on the broiler to see if we could cook the brownies that way.   Pretty soon, I smelled something burning and saw right away that the top of the brownies were burned to a crisp, so I turned the oven off.

Then we got the bright idea of cooking them in the microwave.  I never dreamed that Gerry would want to take them to the dinner, but he did. They were grim!  I did insist that he stop by the store for ice cream on the way there.  My deepest apologies to anyone who might have picked up one of the world's absolutely worst brownies!  (Clearly, not many people did.  The word probably got out quickly!  Most of them came back home, thankfully).  Of course, Gerry did not get to make an announcement that the problem was the stove!

Despite the fact that they were truly awful, my husband who has a sweet tooth,  ate every one over the next two days!

After that, he took the stove apart and fixed the oven all by himself!  My hero.

Irish Harp

We attended an interesting program this evening featuring a harpist and author named,  Linda Kaiser, who has written a biography entitled Pulling Strings:  The Legacy of Melville A. Clark

It was interesting to hear the stories she told and view the memorabilia she has collected.  There was a picture of the four Clark children taken in 1892, all standing and playing the harps of that era.

The harp pictured is a small Irish Harp, made by Clark.  (to be portable and easier for small people to play!) This is the Clark of Clark Music in Syracuse.  I've been in the contemporary Clark Music store, and in fact, we bought our beautiful piano there.   But I was unaware of Clark's very interesting history.

Here is a review of the book:

Beginning with an account of Clark’s musical family, Kaiser chronicles the founding in 1859 of the Clark Music Company, of which Melville Clark became president in 1919. Originally just a tinkers shed, the business ultimately moved into a six-story building in the center of Syracuse. The music company celebrates its 150th anniversary in 2010. Clark also combined his talents as a gifted musician and astute entrepreneur to start the first Syracuse Symphony Orchestra.



I would add that the first performance of the Orchestra packed in three thousands folks, and turned away five hundred more.  It was the 21st day of January.   It must have been very cold!   But central New York natives are hale and hearty!  Syracuse has never had a shortage of talented musicians.

Re-Purpose

    Gerry had a wool blazer with holes in the elbows.   He held it up    and asked if I might have any use for the fabric.  I know he didn't have the heart to throw it out.    So I took it, and put it in my scrap fabric basket in the sewing room.   Then, I pondered and pondered how I might put it to good use.  I know I even worked on this project in my sleep, as it involved some parts and some skills I have not previously used.

    So this is my little winter bag, fully lined.  The front pocket is also fully lined.   The fabric for the strap came from the sleeve of the jacket. It is really a little work of art  (at least for someone with no experience!!).   I often do not like to take my large purse in with me when I go places.  I prefer something smaller, which might hold my keys, my cell phone, a tube of lipstick, and another item or so.   I am very pleased with this re-purposed wool tweed blazer!

     If I am going to work at developing some skills,  it will probably be in the area of purses and hats.  And it will be slowly.  I need to acquire patterns, tools, accessories, hooks, snaps, fabric, etc.   Since I'm not much of an "acquirer"  that will take me some time.  For the moment,  it is a thought in my head.  

As far as sewing goes, I've made a little bit of everything in the last nine months, since I got my sewing machine for Christmas last year.  It wasn't long before Gerry built me a sewing room.   Since I have not been inclined toward quilting, I haven't settled into a particular medium.  Now I think perhaps I may have happened upon something I might enjoy.

Volleyball

By my best calculation,  I've been watching high school volleyball for twenty two years.  First Priscilla played,  then Vee,  Now grand-daughter Zandrea, who is sixteen, plays second string.

An added bonus of attending one of Zanni's games, is that she always sings the National Anthem, and does a fantastic job!  What a pleasure!

The rules of the game have changed a lot over the years.  The "new rules" are easier for me to follow than the old ones. You'd think after so long I would completely understand the rules,  but I must admit, I do not.  Last night's the games were all very close, one point leads most of the time, so second string did not get to play.  Even so, it was exciting to watch.  Bench warming is an honorable occupation. (better there than so many other places!)

I have no idea what it would be like to parent a boy.  I have four daughters and three grand-daughters. When I was having children, it used to make me so so angry when people would express sympathy when I gave birth to a daughter, as if some sad mistake had taken place!  Nothing could be further from the truth!  

Parents who have raised one or more of each, all attest to the reality that boys are "easier".   Having raised four daughters should qualify me for some sort of  "expert" status.   Was it hard?  Yes, indeed?  Was it fun? Most of the time?  Was it rewarding?  More than anything!  Am I blessed?  Enormously!

Nothing could be better than having four daughters, all unique, beautiful and smart!  (Am I perhaps a little biased?)  Absolutely.

Theater Buffs

In the past week, we have seen three noteworthy performances.   That is quite a lot for us.  I guess sometimes good things all happen at once.

We enjoyed the Garrison Keillor show, as mentioned previously.  Then, since Gerry had not seen the NYC version  (I had) we decided that he needed to see The Lion King.   We attended the performance in Syracuse, which was every bit as good as any Broadway production could ever be.  It is a spectacular production, and a significant life experience to see this musical,  with the most out-of- this-world costumes of any production ever!  We saw the matinee, which makes the driving so much easier, especially since we are not familiar with all the buildings and parking lots in downtown Syracuse.  

This afternoon we went to Auburn to see the musical comedy The Marvelous Wonderettes.   It is a hilarious, high energy, non-stop musical featuring popular music from the fifties and sixties.  When I read the description of it, I thought it sounded a lot like one of our favorites---Forever Plaid. And indeed, it was a very similar female quartet version.  We've seen Forever Plaid three times---twice with youngest daughter, and once locally.  Youngest daughter V was plucked out of the audience and pulled up on stage for an unexpected 'song and dance' number.  The four young female singers in this show used the same device, though they recruited an elderly gentleman.  The crowd roared.

Many of the songs from the fifties were familiar to Gerry, and those from the sixties, familiar to me.  Even if we had not known them previously, you could understand every word---perhaps the best part!

By the way, Act Two was their class reunion ten years later.  One of them was pregnant.  Her 'pregnancy bump' was the most outrageously hilarious thing I've ever seen.   You don't know what you have missed if you have not seen a singing and dancing gal, with a baby bump as big as the rest of her!

Belly laughs for sure!!

Honk for Peace

There was a demonstration on the downtown street corner this morning, as I drove past to the library.  Half a dozen people carried placards, and they were all surrounded by numerous signs of various sizes.   It was a Peace Rally, of sorts.   One of the signs said Honk for Peace.  Another:  Bring our Troops Home.

But there was one sign that so aptly expressed what I have felt for so long.  It said:  Peace is Patriotic.  My observations as a citizen, as a preacher, as an American, lo these meany years would suggest that largely, that has not been the prevailing sentiment!  Certainly during the years following 9/11, it seemed to me that to speak of peace was almost considered treasonous.  The notion that Peace is Patriotic got me to thinking.

Certainly, in my memory,  war has always been perceived to be much more patriotic than peace.  We are reminded often, (and rightly so) to support our troops.  As a nation, much of our economy, and definitely our politics, is based on readiness for war.  Our national identity is as the most powerful military force on earth. Presidential candidacies have lived and died by military service.

Peace has more often been associated with the radical fringe--hippies, liberal preachers, mothers.  It is not generally our national mantra.

I heard a presentation recently by a man who grew up as a young (German) boy in Nazi Germany.  He talked about how much he wanted to join Hitler's Youth.  They had exciting toys, guns, flashy ornaments, badges.  It's easy to see how a kid could be attracted to that  (without really understanding what comes with it).

Peace is never that flashy.  You can't really produce it in the economy.  You can't package it, or buy or sell it.  It doesn't come with rank or status.  It's more likely to get one crucified.

But at least for today, on that street corner, there was lots of honking.  That's worth something!

Keillor's Show

We went to a performance by Garrison Keillor last night.  The stage was set with one stool and a microphone. In today's high-tech, fireworks world,  it was hard to believe that was all that was needed for a ninety minute performance. It was also hard to believe that the microphone had a long cord.  I am sure they could have provided a cordless microphone if that had been requested.  I quickly determined that his interaction with the long cord, and getting his feet tangled up in it, and constantly moving it out of his way, behind the stool, in front of the stool, behind his feet, in front of his feet--was all part of the act.

Equally as hard to believe, that one person and a stool and a microphone could hold his audience in rapt attention for ninety minutes, (which really turned out to be two hours.)  He is a one of a kind, funny guy, no doubt about it, albeit, a little weird!

One remark struck a cord with me.  He said:  "I grew up in the age of self-denigration. With Facebook and Twitter and all,  nowadays, the younger generation is into self-promotion."   I don't think I would ever have thought to articulate that,  but I can certainly identify with growing up with self-denigration.  [i.e. "don't get too big for your britches"].

When I try to figure out which is the preferable way, I can only conclude that it must be somewhere in between those two extremes.

Contrary Visions

When I retired,  I had a specific vision of what I wanted my life to be like.  I had spent too many years driven, restless, highly stressed. Probably the shortest description of what I wanted for my later life:  peace and serenity.  And getting from there to here has been a significant adjustment, to say the least.  But I can happily report that I am ninety five percent where I want to be, toward that vision. I spend the vast majority of my time with family and friends, socializing and enjoying, being healthy.

There was another thing I envisioned for my retirement, and that was to write a novel, which I had always wanted to do, planned to do.  I spent a year or so doing just that, making an intentional decision that I would not look into the publication side of the business until I had something I wanted to publish.  So, in 2009, I attended a Writer's Conference in NYC to find out all about the publishing business.   Sadly, all that I found out made me not want to pursue it.  By the time I went, I had already discovered that Publishing Companies do not read manuscripts.  One has to have an agent to represent you as a writer.  What became crystal clear is that agents do not really want to represent unpublished writers. Only a very small percentage will bother.  I learned from the Writer's Conference that one has to "get established" as a writer, become known, establish your reputation, enter contests, win awards, etc.  The presenters said that may take five to ten years.  Once fully recognized, then you may attract an agent.  Also, agents want writers at the beginning of their lives and careers, to optimize their own profit.

As a person who was/is sixty plus,  going that route did not make any sense to me at all.   Since I wanted very much to enjoy my life, reduce my stress,  trying to start up a new career was simply not where I was in my heart and soul.

When I was pondering that this morning, I realized that the problem was simple:  I had two conflicting visions for my life, and had to choose.

At the beginning of 2011, I did win a writing award, so now I am an established writer in my own community!

As far as my manuscript goes,  now the only thought I have about it is that perhaps some day a great-granddaughter may grow up to be a literary agent, and happen upon it!

And so I put that thought out into the universe!

Going First

There have been so many times in my life when I could have, even should have, volunteered to go first.  But I never did.  I didn't want to go first because that seemed too bold for me, too over-confident, cocky. I would often volunteer to go second, but never first.  Until now.

At the gathering picnic meeting of the Ladies Lit,  the lady who had signed up to give her paper first, stood in great trepidation, admitting that she had signed up and paid for a trip, not realizing it conflicted with the date she was to give her paper. She felt soooo badly, you could tell, and the first paper was to be given in two weeks.  Sometimes people do not have their papers ready until the last minute.  I, of course, have mine ready months in advance!    So I volunteered to switch dates with her.  She was so very relieved.  I felt good when she mentioned to me in the lunch line that this would probably be her husband's last trip (presumably due to health concerns).

So now I will be presenting the very first paper of the year.  These are not insignificant.  They are twenty minutes long, ten pages, research on a topic, and presented to a group of approximately twenty five women.   The good part about going first is that I will have it behind me and not have to wait in anxiety all year!  The other side is---it is an unusual topic this year, and hearing no other papers first, I will not know exactly how this should be approached.  For better or worse, I guess I will be setting the standard.

As far as life patterns go,  I am proud of myself for breaking out of my old pattern,  and being willing to be the first one!

Waning

You know, it does seem like my blogging is waning.  I don't know why.  I don't know if this is temporary or permanent.  Perhaps it is something that has served its purpose and it is time to move on, perhaps to some other expression of writing.  Or just to reading, which I am doing a lot these days.

So just in case I happen to have any readers who might be curious, or interested, or wondering what became of me,  I am fine, though not incline to blog these days.

Being Sixty Plus has become mostly a personal diary.  I cannot imagine that it is of much interest to anyone else. I wanted to express my thoughts, and inspire, entertain.  Now, it is mostly just a record of our days.

Five hundred plus blogs later,  I think I may take a little break.  

Bar Mitzvah

We have just returned from a trip to Vermont to attend grandson Cole's Bar Mitzvah.  Along the way, we traveled on a ferry,  took in sightseeing in downtown Burlington,  ate breakfast with family members we don't get to see very often.  

After that, we all met at the designated place.    I must say that the Jewish side of the family really knows how to "party."   Or perhaps, a better way to express that is:  The Jewish tradition offers many joyous celebrations.

We always enjoy the Israeli Hora, a circle dance, and the Hava Nagila, both which are lively group dances.  I think it is during the Hora that the person being celebrated is placed in a chair and lifted up overhead.  What a fun and  lively time.

Of course, before the reception, there is a religious service during which the young person (the Bar Mitzvah) speaks, and reads from the Torah.  Many guests and family members also have readings.  We never have any advance warning at these events; we just have to go forward when they call our names!(hoping our parts will be in English, and not Hebrew).  

Perseverance

I've not had much luck with climatis plants.  I think I have bought three, but they always get eaten off at ground level.  When I found the beginning of a vine for a third time this summer (after woodchuck ate it off twice before), I wrapped the tiny leaves in plastic wrap, in hopes of deterring the critter.  I wasn't sure the plant would survive that,  but it did.

  As it grew taller,  I continued to wrap it in bubble wrap, to keep it safe.  Finally, I have a flower!  It's not very showy or colorful or impressive.  

But it is the product of a great deal of perseverance---that of both the vine and the gardener!   We have prevailed!

Next year, I'll bubble wrap from the earliest signs of life.   The battle between the creature and the critter rages on.

US Open

We had tickets to the US Open for Monday, but because of all the damage and anxiety caused by Hurricane Irene,  I didn't think there was even a remote chance that it would be ready to start on Monday.  After all,  the mass transit had been shut down;  there were downed trees and power lines and flooding all over the area.   But unbelievably, they opened on Monday, as scheduled.  Of course, that meant that many staff persons had to spend the night at the center on Saturday night in order to spend all day Sunday cleaning up debris and water caused by the storm and rain.  Based on the projections and predictions over Friday and Saturday, I thought there was no chance the Center would we operating.  What a surprise!

This year, we got a day pass, which meant we had access to all the courts, and stadiums, except not the really huge one, Arthur Ashe Stadium.  We had already had that experience and did not want to go there anyway.  The day pass allowed us to roam around freely, and see a variety of games, which was much to our liking.

Some of the smaller courts were very intimate, with just a few bleachers, and you could see 'all the action'.  I particularly enjoyed getting the full picture of what goes on on each court.  There are six ballboys/girls;  then there are about ten linesmen, a referee, two players, cameramen, etc.  I counted at least twenty people, not counting the two players, per court.  I had no idea it required so many officials.  The actions and interactions of the players with the ballboys was fascinating. I also learned that the ballboys and the linesmen have to try out, in order to be selected, and go through extensive training.

It was clear that the officials come from all over the world.  In fact, we sat at a lunch table with a lineswoman who came for the Open from South Carolina.  Most of the referees, who announced the game, had strong accents and were obviously from other countries.  I counted in the program well over fifty nations represented with competitors.

There are twenty courts and smaller stadiums, not counting Ashe, which holds 20,000.  I found the question of scheduling all those people intriguing.  It is clearly an operation that takes an entire year to produce!

In previous years, we have attended the semi-finals, in Ashe Stadium.   I learned so much more, and enjoyed this so much more than focusing all one's attention just on the "big name" players.  Those on the outlying courts were fun to watch as well.

I was really impressed by everything I saw relative to NY City and its ability to "weather a storm" and recover quickly!  No doubt that is one advantage of having so many people---a huge work force!

Irene

The best laid plans of women and men
oft go awry
Especially when  face to face with the
hurricane's eye.

Hurricane Irene is messing up our weekend plans.  Of course, I should not complain, as we are not directly in the path and needing to evacuate.

We had our weekend on Long Island all carefully planned with outdoor activities.   First some good, fun tennis outside,  then walking the Brooklyn Bridge, and then on Monday, a day at the U.S. Open.  At the moment, I'm not sure we will get to do any of those things, when we go and visit daughter and son- in- law for the weekend.

When I told this to daughter Priscilla, she said,  "What is it with you and hurricanes?"   She was recalling, of course, the time I flew south right into the path of Hurricane Katrina.  I had my (non-refundable) plane reservations, and was headed to Mississippi to visit my mother. (Alzheimer's, didn't know I was there)   I was confident that I would far enough north in Tupelo so that I would not be affected at all, and went anyway.  That turned out not to be entirely true.

In the hotel where I was staying,  every other room was taken by people who had evacuated New Orleans.  The first night,  I buried my head under the pillows so I would not to hear the terror of the seventy mile per hour winds outside my door.   Thankfully,  we did not lose power,  but many nearby places did.

My family back in New York was worried about me.  Cell phone traffic was so overloaded, that it was almost impossible to get a call through.  I did manage to briefly, so they knew I was not in mortal danger.

I never was really in danger, but the most terrifying part for me was the fear of not being able to get back home!  Suddenly, there were long long lines at every gasoline pump.  Although I had a rented car,  and a plane ticket out of Memphis,  I feared there might not be gasoline for getting home.  I would have driven if I had to.  I was so grateful that the plane left Memphis as planned, a few days later.

It took a few days for the worse of the Hurricane Katrina to come to light;  for the levees to break, and the stadium to fill with desperate people.

I was one of the lucky ones.  I got home safely, no worse for wear.   Having a trip planned, driving right into the path of a Hurricane does bring back all those very scary memories.

Hopefully we won't have to evacuate Long Island!

Hair

I am struggling with the issue of hair.  Hair is driving me absolutely crazy.  Since mine has grown out a bit,  my whole lifestyle has had to change to accommodate it!  I envisioned a new hairstyle, only you can't get to that point from a pixie cut, so one has to first grow their hair in order to really have a new lovely salon haircut.

  

My hair is currently in between.  It is no longer a pixie.  It is not entirely short.  It is not yet a bob.  It is not really long.  It is sadly somewhere in between the land of  lovely and obscene.

It is unbearable to me, unless I roll it.   [I have to roll it because I cannot stand it flat!!  I need to poof it up!] Therefore, I spend an incredible amount of time doing just that,  but how that turns out is completely unpredictable.  It depends on a number of hair factors, like if I blow it dry, or let it dry naturally,  if I use conditioner or not, etc.  The whole rolled hair result is a roll of the dice!
If I don't have much time in the morning,  I'll take a shower the night before, so I have time for the rolling detail!  Hair is ruling my life completely!  It is clearly more trouble than it is worth!

I imagined ending up with a bob, rather than a pixie.  I've had a pixie for most of the past forty years or so, with a couple of rare occasions of letting it grow for a while before cutting it again.  I've been cutting my own hair since I was nineteen.  So, honestly, the whole matter of going to a salon for a style is a foreign concept for me.  I wonder if I will ever actually do that?

My history has been that one day I wake up and simply cannot stand it for another minute, and get out my scissors and do my thing.   At the moment, I'm not sure exactly what my thing is, or is going to be.  I'm in between things.

I have just completed an on-line a study of 'hairstyles for older women'.  The styles are all over the place, so that was no help at all. Pixies, bobs, short, long, mid-length, curly, straight, edgy, curly, chopped.

Maybe I'll get through just one more day with hair.  I am feeling just a wee bit attached to it.