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.