Gentlemen, Start Your Engines

I am not a car person but I'm aware that, this Sunday, the 107th Indianapolis 500 will take place.  I'm a hoosier so, when I was a girl I attended the Indianapolis 500 every year.  Not to see the race, mind you, but to spend the day in the infield with my friends having fun.

Carl Fisher was the guy who started it all.  He was passionate about cars.  He was a promotional genius and a flamboyant guy who made millions and lost millions.  I have always associated Carl Fisher with Indianapolis and the 500...

1919 Dixie
Highway

...until this week.  My son gave me a book for Mother's Day about the 25 most important men and women (yes women too) who shaped the state of Florida.  Carl Fisher is one of them.  I had no idea.

Early on Florida was a decidedly inhospitable place.  Getting here (like the exact place I am right now) was almost impossible,  The original settlers had to literally hack their way through the jungle.  Then, when Henry Flagler and Henry Plant built the railroad, things changed.  After that, along came Carl Fisher.  He set up a network of highways, most popular being the Dixie Highway that's still going strong today.

Carl Fisher was an eccentric guy who had his ups and downs but it took entrepreneurial spirits and visionaries like him to tame Florida.  I'm grateful.

The book I'm reading is called "Florida Made - The 25 Most Important Figures Who Shaped the State."


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Face Down

Many years ago my friend, Nancy, had some terrible eye problem.  It required surgery - and then she had to lie face-down for three weeks.  I remembered being horrified by this prospect.

Then, a few weeks ago I noticed that, if I closed my left eye,I had a black hole in the vision in my right eye.  For instance, I'd be at a stop light, close my left eye, and the stop light would disappear.  My friend, Nancy, told me that she discovered her problem when she closed her good eye in church and the minister's head disappeared.

I finally got myself to the ophthalmologist.  He announced I had a retina hole in the back of my eye (same as Nancy) and I was sent immediately to the Florida Retina Institute.  Who knew that such a place existed?  Not me.

Yesterday I had surgery at the hospital that is five minutes from my house.  The excellent news in all of this is that I have to lie face-down only four to five days.

Actually I sit on the couch with my head down or lie on my bed.  I rented the contraption in the photo from a place called "Comfortable Recovery."  I'm lying on it now while I'm typing this.

Those of you who know Dave will not be surprised that he's an excellent caregiver.  Since I can't sleep on my back, he filled a nylon backpack with wadded up newspapers for me to wear to bed.  It's comfortable but lets me know when I try to turn over.  My daughter had a world of ideas for staying comfortable as well.

My bandages came off this afternoon.  Dave just finished making me this chart.  I just set my iPhone to remind me when to take the meds.

I am a person who needs constant stimulation.  I truly would have gone bonkers if I had to lie face-down for three weeks with nothing to do.

But I'm thinking this will be a piece of cake.


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First World Problems With Third World Solutions

Recently I picked up a "Real Simple" magazine at the library.  I know many women love this magazine but it occasionally gets on my nerves.  To me, it seems to be geared toward upper middle class women with ridiculous problems.

Case in point is the Modern Manners advice column.  The first question has to do with a woman who is upset because, when her husband's son and wife come to visit, they always choose to sit where "my place" is on the couch. She is feeling displaced.

As you know, I, too, have a favorite place on the couch so you would think I would be sympathetic.  But, no.  The etiquette expert had a pretty good response but I would like to share my own.

I would put this lady on a plane and parachute her into a Syrian refugee camp for a few days.  There she could help care for the needs of the six to ten million internally displaced refugees.  This should help put the couch displacement in perspective.

The next letter is from a lady who wants to put a sign on her front door stating all visitors must remove their shoes.  My answer would be the same as the first.  I'm sure many of these refugees don't even have shoes so problem solved.

Otherwise, my sign suggestion would be:  Abandon shoes all who enter here!


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What Would I Tell My 80 Year Old Self

When I was 64 I studied "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron.  This was my second time.  I would recommend this work book to anybody at any age.  If you do the work you will be rewarded. But, if you don't care to do the work book, just consider doing the exercise below.

In one portion we were to describe ourselves at age 80.  The following is exactly what I wrote:

I'm eighty.  Very active.  Healthy.  Travel a lot.  Never leave the house without looking put-together.  Have a number of friends and eat out often - but truly enjoy being home alone in the evenings.

Don't answer to anybody.  Close to the children but very independent.  Good friends with Ken K.  Spiritually centered.  

Comfortable with where I am in life.  Not afraid of death and ready to make the tough health decisions.

Then the assignment in "The Artist's Way" was to tell my 64 year old self (which I was at the time) what my 80 year old self would want me to know.  At that time (when I was 64) life was hard.  Here's what I wrote:

Hang in there.  You're doing the right thing.  Enjoy every day as best you can.  You'll never regret what you're doing.  Let the children help a little more.  Be much more open about what you need.  Get out a little more and be strong when others make it hard.

This year I will be 80 years old.  Everything I wrote all those 16 years ago has come to pass.  But, get this, in addition, I met Dave, fell in love and traveled all over the world.  My health is not perfect but it hasn't kept me from fulfilling my prophesy.


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Times and Names Are Changing

Lindsey is the name of a young, attractive cashier where I shop on a regular basis.  I try to get in Lindsey's line because Lindsey is funny and kind and totally unfazed by rude shoppers or anything else as far as I can tell.  Lindsey and I always have a fun, albeit short, chit-chat time.

The problem is - if I can even call it a problem because if it is, it's only for me and doesn't seem to be for Lindsey - the problem is that I don't know if Lindsey is male or female.

I seem to experience this more and more when I'm out and about.  I know there are more transgendered people in Florida than in almost any other state.  I saw an interesting article a few weeks ago on the most popular baby names in 2017.  Of course, the baby girl names are still being dominated by ones ending in "a,"  Emma, Ava, Sophia, Olivia, etc.  And the four most popular boy names are Jackson, Liam, Noah and Aiden.

But most interesting to me was the growing popularity of neutral or unisex baby names.  Some of the most popular are Taylor, Baily Alex, Kyle and Riley.  Riley is my maiden name and two of my grandchildren (a boy and a girl) have Riley for a middle name.  I love this!

Where is all this going?  The world is changing and most of us oldies have a hard time keeping up.  I don't understand a lot of the current gender issues.  But here's what I know:

I want to know, love (the agape kind) and accept Lindsey exactly the way Lindsey is.


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