I Am Grateful For...

Sometimes in writing workshops we're asked to make a quick, spontaneous "stream of consciousness" list.  It must be truthful,  detailed and immediate. For instance, make a quick list of all the things you're frightened of or you hate - right now.

My lists were usually gratitude lists.

And, now on this day before New Year's Eve, 2014, I, once again, wrote a gratitude list.

1.  I'm grateful for Facebook because I can see Maddox every day.  And also a little baby I've never met but her mom has posted photos every day since she was born four months ago.

2.  I'm grateful for excellent medical insurance and the fact that I no longer have to feel as guilty as I used to about it because more and more folks are getting the coverage they need.

3.  I'm grateful that Ebola is not a threat to me or anybody I know, mainly because we're doing the right thing to help eradicate it.  And I'm grateful to all the medical folks around the world who choose to go where Ebola is still thriving.  (Running to the Fire!)

4.  I'm grateful for where I live.  

5.   Last night we watched the 1968 movie "Father Goose" with Cary Grant and Leslie Caron.  It's a romantic comedy but they end up slapping each other in the face a few times as they're getting friendly. I'm grateful that most of society no longer believes that women like to be slapped around as a prelude to love making.

6.  I'm grateful that if I want to sit on the couch for five hours - I can.

7.  I'm grateful for a Forum where we can share ideas about society's problems and I can learn from wise folks not to think with my feelings but to try to emulate the teachings of Jesus.


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The Power of Stories

Dave and I were happy to be back home and in our own church this morning.  But when it came time for the sermon who pops up in the pulpit but this kid who grew up in the church.  His name is Corey Vevera and it seems like he just left for college  but, as it turns out, he's this totally relaxed in his own skin guy who's graduated from FSU, worked for a year, and is now a student at Duke Divinity School.

So he's a 'Nole and a Dukey.

His sermon was about the importance of stories.  He made his point by telling cool stories.  What a concept.  They were good stories.   He told about his year of working at Books-A-Million after graduating from college and how he was the store's expert in the Science Fiction/Star Wars/Fantasy/Christian departments.  

He thanked a couple in the congregation for allowing him to babysit their sons when he was in high school because he got paid for doing exactly what he would have been doing at home which was running around the back yard with light sabers.

I was totally on board because I'd just returned from my Sullivans house where several of them are experts in the same fields.  (I would add super heroes and Lego's - but it all blends in together.)

Corey made some daring conclusions.  Stories are usually made up of conflict and resolution.  The Jesus story is made up of conflict and resolution.  Therefore, most all stories are somewhat about the Jesus story.

Something to think about.

Corey also elaborated on how several folks in the Jesus story were bold, like Simeon who said this baby is going to do great things, like, Anna, the  old lady who never left the Temple, but who ran out to share the news about what this little baby was going to do.

And bold like Corey who knows how to tell the story.  And, hopefully,  like me.


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All I Want for Christmas is No Stress

Dave and I have about reached peek capacity party-wise here at home so we're leaving soon for Atlanta and Chicago to...as Wayne on "Wayne's World used to say...party on!

But one thing that I used to have big time, that I no longer have, is holiday stress.

One of the party events I attended last week was a Women's Celebration at my church.  While I used to speak at women's events and lead a few women's retreats every year,  I no longer have the need to - not only lead - but even attend these events.  However, this one was to be led by three women I deeply admire, so I went.

The crowd of over one hundred women was mostly younger than me.  And better dressed.  The room was spectacular.  The dinner was pretty close to gourmet.  I was thinking, "Oh man, this has to have been a lot of stressful work."

At program time these three super achieving women appeared on stage in their pajamas!

What???

The message was about relieving stress.  But instead of telling us how,  they began by each of them confessing to a part of their personalities that cause them big time stress at Christmas Time.

1.  People Pleaser - My minister, Jayne, confessed to this.  How can it be?  She's one of the best executives I've ever seen, as well as being an outstanding teacher and preacher.  And, oh yeah, she's a wife and mom.

2.  Perfectionist -  Merrill confessed to this.  How can it be?  She's a life coach and the mother of five kids.  So, yeah, it has to be hard to keep a perfect house at Christmas time with five kids and a job.

3.  Performer - Michele is an amazing, nearly perfect person - professionally and personally.  She knows she does things well and is great at keeping several balls in the air - at all times.  But she told us about getting so stressed the week before that she actually yelled at her kids.

About 80 women were murmuring under their breathes "Michele yelled at her kids?"

After all of this confessing the three of them told the marjority of women in the room (who looked perfect - and stressed)  how to stay calm and celebrate the Real Christmas!

I enjoyed this but didn't need it because I am no longer a professional people pleaser, perfectionist, or performer - like I used to be!


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Doctors and The Meaning of Life

I visited my internist this morning.  Nothing wrong;  just a check up.  One of the reasons I like him is that he doesn't try to get me to take medicine.  In fact, he always goes down my med list and questions every one - every time I see him.  I like having a doctor who doesn't equate a meaningful life for older people with a big assortment of meds.

In Atul Gawande's book Being Mortal, he tells a story about a retired doctor he interviewed over a long period of time.

 Felix Silverstone was a national leader in geriatrics for 50 years.  So we would suppose that he had some understanding of the meaning of life when it comes to getting old.  He finally had to retire at age 82.  He and his wife Bella moved to a lovely retirement community.  Felix was well aware of the changes taking place in his body.

But, Dr. Gawande says about Felix:

What buoyed him, despite his limitations, was having a purpose.  It was the same purpose, he said, that sustained him in medicine:  to be of service, in some way, to those around him.  

He found the most meaning in being of service to Bella.  She had serious memory issues and was blind.   Dr. Gawande goes on to describe one of the most romantic paragraphs I've read in a long time.

He dressed her, bathed her, helped feed her.  When they walked, they held hands.  At night, they lay in bed in each other's arms, awake and nestling for a while, before finally drifting off to sleep.  Those moments, Felix said, remained among their most cherished.  

The meaning of life.


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R - E - S - P - E - C -T

The Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts is a brand new, lavish "state of the art" theater in downtown Orlando.  Going forward, this is where we'll attend the opera, the philharmonic and other fancy venues.

This week there was a letter to the editor in the Sentinel titled:  God's OK with Shorts, Arts Should Be Too.

In it the writer is complaining that he went to the theater  and received some flack because he wore shorts and a t shirt.

I am very forgiving about what people wear.  I could never be a member of the Fashion Police.  But, as Penny says in The Big Bang Theory, this kind of attitude "creams my corn!"

Loretta and Ronny were working class folks
who knew how to dress for the opera

Here's why:

All over the world, here are occasions where what people wear becomes part of a social contract, whether spoken or unspoken.  Attending The Dr. Phillips Center is one of them.

Dave and I were on a cruise a couple of months ago.  There were three formal nights.  The dress code was clearly communicated both before and during the cruise.  There were places to eat other than the formal dining rooms.  Most women wore  short cocktail dresses or long,  more formal gowns .  Most men wore tuxedos or dark suits.   But some people made a point of showing up in shorts, windbreakers, sneakers, crocs, etc.

I'll have to say that this is mostly a guy thing - this need to buck the dress code.  But here's some advice.  Your wife or girlfriend most likely wants you to dress up and you're acting like a big baby.

How much you spend on the outfit is not a factor.  Respect is.

The letter writer went on to say that he wears shorts to church and nobody complains.  The people in my church welcome everybody, no matter what they wear.  But I visit churches where I know it would not be appropriate to be anything but dressed up - so I wear my Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes.  Out of respect.


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Altruism After Death

Let conversation cease.  let laughter flee.  This is the place where death delights to help the living

A couple of years ago Dave and I toured the new University of Central Florida College of Medicine.  It's magnificent.  When we got to the gross anatomy lab I was a little skeptical - but it was magnificent - and a holy experience.  The quote above, which is at the entrance to the lab, sets the tone.  (I wrote a blog entry at that time called University of Central Florida College of Medicine - dated 4/1/12.)

Shortly after leaving Dave made his arrangements for leaving his body to the school.  This has been met with mostly positive, but somewhat mixed response.  I don't know anybody else who is doing this.

But this week I read a Washington Post article by Dr. Edward Beal, a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a clinical professor at the Georgetown University School of Medicine.

In the article he said that he was shocked when his wife announced that she was going to donate her body to the Georgetown School of Medicine.  Dr. Beal goes on to say that he was remembering the old days when pranks were pulled and respect was not paid.   When he expressed his concerns to his wife she told him she was going to attend the School of Medicine's annual liturgy and Catholic Mass for families of donors.

He went with her.

Dr. Beal said the room was filled with faculty, and family members who had come to collect the ashes of their loved one.  He goes on to say:

...nearly 200 students filed into the classroom; they each carried a lighted candle in honor of their donor body and placed the candles on a stage.  There were Jews, Muslims, Protestants, atheists and outright anti-religious students in the procession.  

Afterwards Dr. Beal spoke with several students.  One talked about her cadaver's heart and how it did not look like anything in a text book.  Another student said there was no doubt in her mind that she would donate her body when the time came.

And yet another said that....throughout the entire class, the cadaver's faces had remained covered, out of respect, until the time came to study the face.  She spoke almost reverently of how moved she felt the day she and her classmates removed the covering over the face of their cadaver and looked for the first time into the donor's eyes.

Thank you, Dr. Edward Beal for reinforcing our experience at the UCF College of Medicine and for reinforcing Dave's commitment to help the living.



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Time to Say Goodbye to a Landmark

Club Harem in Winter Park, Florida is being sold to the city.  The plans are for it to be immediately torn down.  It's time.

But for those of us who've lived in Central Florida for a while, it will always be affectionately known by its former name,  The Booby Trap.  Years ago, it lived up to this name - painted in natural flesh tones.  Even those who wildly protested The Booby Trap would go out of their way to point it out to others.  It was an early Orlando tourist attraction. 

Decades ago my husband was the minister at Community United Methodist Church in Casselberry, Florida, a suburb of Orlando, and two miles from where I currently live.  At that time Casselberry, a quiet bedroom community, had several "gentleman's clubs."  The most famous was Rachel's World Class Men's Club.  I was never there but I heard it was luxurious.  And I wanted to see inside.

Every year Ken would receive, at the church, a special invitation to dinner at Rachal's.  It came in a big pink envelope.  I would beg him to go and take me with him but he never did.  

It was, and is, fun to tease about these clubs.  But what they are, are strip clubs.  Lots of sad stories have come out of these clubs.  With our current emphasis on human trafficking we all have come to understand that tragic things happen in and around these places.  

One day, all those long years ago I was talking with some cool old ladies in the church.  I was teasing about how curious I was about the gentleman's clubs and asked them if they'd like to go check one out with me.   Turns out, they already had.  

They described it as an embarrassing, bad experience.  It was amateur night.  The church ladies said several very drunk young women got on stage and tried to fulfill their fantasies of being strippers.  It was very sad, indeed.    

I'm happy to say that most of the strip clubs in this area are gone.  However, Rachel's World Class Men's Club is still here.  And it still advertises itself as luxurious.   Since I don't go out much at night anymore, I doubt that I'll ever see the inside.  They are open for lunch but I can't imagine how sad and pathetic it would be to have lunch at a strip club.  

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I Am Mortal

She's healthy and beautiful
at 100

But - we're all gonna die!!!  It's a fact.

I just finished reading Being Mortal by surgeon and best selling author Atul Gawande.  In fact,  Being Mortal is currently on the best seller list, with good reason.

This book helps us confront realistically the last quarter of our lives.  Dr, Gawande believes we should have more control over how we spend this precious time.  I agree.

Here's a tiny tidbit from page 40 that could save and/or change your life:

The single most serious threat most of us oldies face is.....falling.  Each year, about 350,000 Americans fall and break a hip.  Of those, 40 percent end up in a nursing home, and 20 percent are never able to walk again.  The three primary risk factors for falling are poor balance, taking more than four prescription medications, and muscle weakness.  Elderly people without these risk factors have a 12 percent chance of falling in a year.  Those with all three risk factors have almost a 100 percent chance.

Yes, that's a 100 percent chance.

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Why Is Your Hair Brown?

Every time you tint your hair you dye a little. 

Normally, my hair is kind of brown with blond highlights.  That's normally - not naturally.  But right now it's a bit darker and some folks have taken notice.

Here's the scoop.  First off, let me ask you this question:  If you had only 30 minutes to live, what would you do?  I would dye my hair.  Because that waiting for the dye to cast is a long, long 30 minutes.  So last week while waiting I decided to wash some crystal pieces in the kitchen sink.

Not knowing a piece was broken I plunged my hand into the soapy water.  Immediately the bubbles got bloody.  I wrapped my hand in several paper towels and thought about the most sensible thing to do.

I wanted to just continue to wash the crystal pieces until my 30 minutes were up.  But the paper towels were turning red.  I wished Dave was home but then realized he would only say:

Hey, babe, you need a band aid on that.

I was dressed in only my ratty old "hair dying" robe and my wet hair was covered in Suran Wrap so I guessed I'd better shower and dress just in case I was bleeding to death and had to call 911.

So that's why my hair is brown.  Only about 18 minutes with the dye!

After that I rewrapped my finger with a pile of kleenex while I put on some makeup in case I had to drive to the ER.  But the bleeding was slowing down.

So an hour or so later I put on big plastic gloves and finished washing the crystal.

Then I applied a band aid.


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