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Linda Barrett

Linda Barrett

Linda Barrett

Starting Over ~ Life in the Day Camp

The chorus presentation on July 4th, 2013

The chorus presentation on July 4th, 2013

WASTING TIME? OR BURNING THE CANDLE AT BOTH ENDS?

“Age puzzles me. I thought it was a quiet time. My 70s were interesting and fairly serene, but my 80s are passionate. I grow more intense as I age.”

The above quote is from the best known work of Florida Scott-Maxwell, The Measure of My Days which she wrote in her 80s. She was a practicing psychologist and playwright who studied under Carl Jung. She lived to be 93 years old. Her book explores how to make meaning out of our later years.

Now, I’m still a long way from being 80, but I think I get it. I look around at my new friends in this community, and I see active, vibrant people who finally have the time to explore their creative sides. Perhaps, their passions.

On July 4th, I attended a celebration in honor of America’s birthday. On stage was the community chorus. It is composed of residents who not only like to sing, but can actually carry a tune! They and their director have given untold hours preparing the program, practicing the songs and arrangements and making sure to show up for every rehearsal. The audience, including moi, filled the large social hall with barely a seat remaining empty. Our applause brought such words of appreciation from the choir director as though WE were doing THEM the favor. And then I realized that a vocal performance was similar to writing a novel. They both need an audience to gain closure. The passion, however, resides in creating the art. It’s hard work, and no one volunteers unless driven to it. Is it worth the effort?  In my view, the satisfaction is immeasurable.

Another dream deferred...until now?

Another dream deferred…until now?

Along the walls of the clubhouse are glass cases displaying the creative side of other people. The Photography Club, for example, often shows pictures so well crafted,  I would pay for them. They’re of professional quality, and I know that learning the skills to produce those photographs had to have taken infinite amounts of time, attention, and practice. The names of the photographers are in small print, but I take note and compliment the creators when I see them.

In addition to photography, displays of the Woodworking, Quilters, and Ceramics Clubs make a passer-by pause to browse the offerings. Not every item is of professional quality, but I can see how some artists have improved over time. They’re taking their work seriously, haven’t gotten bored, haven’t given up. When I spoke to several in the art class, all I heard was the word love. They love what they’re doing, learning. They’ve always wanted to try. Never knew they could be as good as they are. Sure, some laughed…or snickered. But no one quit.

In the Life Long Learning program, speakers cover  topics from the stock market to the solar system. From early philosophers to logic theories. To my own offering of Writing Family Stories.

Exploring the swath of ideas and activities that we promised ourselves we’d do “one day” provides an opportunity to make meaning of these years  when our responsibilities are fewer and we finally have the time. I sincerely hope that I grow more passionate as I age. I don’t want to miss the sweet satisfaction of jumping in deep and trying something new or revisiting a long held dream.

How about you?

As always, thanks so much for stopping by. I hope to see you for the next edition of Starting Over.

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LEAVE A COMMENT AND YOUR NAME WILL BE ENTERED INTO MY JULY CONTEST. Prizes are a choice of two books below, written by the award winning authors of On Fire Fiction plus a $25 gift certificate to Amazon or BN. Remember, some of these are hot, hot, hot while others…not so much. Your choice:)

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Starting Over ~ Life in the Day Camp

HAPPY 237th BIRTHDAY, AMERICA!

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In the beginning…thirteen states…

 

 

 

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And then there were fifty…

 

 

 

Dear Readers:

About 300 million folks will celebrate America’s birthday today. I will be among them. In my corner of the world, we’ll raise voices in concert, wave flags, down hot dogs, hamburgers and ice cream…we can’t forget the ice cream 🙂

How will you be spending the 4th?  Leave a comment and you’ll be entered into my July contest! Choose two books from the fab authors of On Fire Fiction which are shown below, PLUS a $25 gift certificate to either Amazon or BN. You might burn yourself here – some of these are hot, hot, hot. But others are not, not, not 🙂

As always, thanks for stopping by. I hope to see you on Tuesday, July 9th, for the next edition of Starting Over.

Best,

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Starting Over ~ Life in the Day Camp~WE’RE GRANDMAS NOW

GRANDMAS ARE MOMS WITH LOTS OF FROSTING. 009

I wish I’d thought of that. It’s one of those sayings attributed to “author unknown.” But I’ll confirm that the idea resonates in the day camp.  Many, if not most, of my friends here are grandmothers. Do we show off the latest pictures of the kids?  You bet.  Do we brag occasionally?  Oh, yeah. Are our grandbabies the cutest, brightest, funniest, sweetest inventions since chocolate? Absolutely.

But we’re also glad when the visits are over and all the kids–children and grandchildren–go home.

MY GRANDKIDS BELIEVE I’M THE OLDEST THING IN THE WORLD. AND AFTER TWO OR THREE HOURS WITH THEM, I BELIEVE IT TOO.  — Gene Perret

A funny thing, though.  As soon as we say goodbye at the airport, we yearn to see them again.

It’s become an all-or-nothing proposition in America over the last decade or two. Extended families no longer live near one another, so BIG VISITS compensate and leave us all exhausted. First, the scheduling. Then the waiting and crossing off the days.  Then right before, a frenzy of shopping, cooking and freezing. Most important, the planning of “what to do” with everyone after arrival. We must have fun activities!  And then, finally, the tykes arrive with their parents. And with every hug and kiss, we melt. And are reborn.

IF I HAD KNOWN HOW WONDERFUL IT WOULD BE TO HAVE GRANDCHILDREN, I’D HAVE HAD THEM FIRST. — Lois Wyse

My own grandmother lived a hundred miles away from me in upstate New York. Every so often I’d arrive home from school and there she’d be!  My parents didn’t do the countdown thing. I guess they believed in surprises. A wonderful surprise. This lady was the only grandparent I had, and she was everything a little girl could want in a grandmother. Some years ago, her memory inspired me to write a story about her, and about grandmothers then…and now.  My own boys were half-grown at the time. I’m sharing my memory with you today–a story of family–so this blog post will be longer than most.

~~~~~Real Grandmas–A Family Story~~~

A real grandma has big jiggly arms. My grandma did, and when I cuddled up to her on the couch, my head fit perfectly against her unique pillow. She’d read to me in her Yiddish accent, “Vee, Villie, Vinkie vent through the town…”  It sounded just fine.

A real grandma knows how to knit. My grandma did and when she started a sweater, she actually finished it. Long after I’d go to bed, she’d continue to knit and leave her work-in-progress where I could see it first thing in the morning. I was always amazed at how red or navy blue string could turn into a bulky garment, a thing of substance, just by moving two long needles against each other. It seemed like magic, but Grandma could do it.

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A real grandma also fills the house with scrumptious aromas, and needs the special assistance of a ten year old granddaughter. Those apple pies, those rugelahs–rolled out dough cut into triangles and re-rolled into crescents with sugar, cinnamon, raisins, nuts, jelly, anything delicious would do. And the strudel made from dough so thin, you could almost see through it. They are all in my mind’s eye as clearly today as when Gram and I shared my mother’s kitchen on one of Gram’s visits so long ago.

“Lindala, you’ll scrape the orange and lemon like this,” she said as she gave me the “rebvison,” the four-sided metal scraper used for such work. I took it proudly. This was not a baby job! She crushed walnuts, set aside raisins and kneaded the dough. The finished products looked like miracles to me, but Grandma just nodded at her efforts and brushed the flour from her hands.file2391298506940

Those delicious fragrances filled my childhood home, but no recipe was written down. How could she write: a pinch of this, a little of that with enough of the other until it was right?  Grandma’s kitchen methods did not end with baking. She made chicken soup in exactly the same way. This artstic style continued until I was about twelve years old.

Whether I had a flash of insight or whether I slowly forced myself to acknowledge that Grandma was old, I don’t honestly recall. But I do remember thinking and worrying about her dying some day. After my initial grief at this realization, I took action.

“Grandma,” I said, while holding pen and paper in my hand, “exactly how do you make rugelahs?” And she told me. Slowly, we worked the amounts out together. A written recipe was finally born in our family, and it was perfect. Anyway, that’s what my boys tell me.

My boys have two grandmas. One does aerobics and one plays catch wtih them using a hard ball and a baseball glove. Their grandmas are in their seventies, in the same decade of life as my grandma was when I grew up.

My sons think that real grandmas are athletes, that real grandmas work full-time until forced to retire at 75, and that the only food grandmas know how to cook is chicken, the quintessential low cholesterol choice. They have never seen either grandma bake as much as a cookie or knit the ubiquitous scarf.  But if you’d ask them about their grandmothers, as I did, they’d tell you that those ladies were absolutely perfect and that they were very real grandmas. Just like mine was.

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THE BEST BABY-SITTERS, OF COURSE, ARE THE BABY’S GRANDPARENTS. YOU FEEL COMPLETELY COMFORTABLE ENTRUSTING YOUR BABY TO THEM FOR LONG PERIODS. WHICH IS WHY MOST GRANDPARENTS FLEE TO FLORIDA. — Dave Barry

Leave a comment to say whether you enjoyed this type of memory and if you’d like to try writing some family stories of your own. I’ve taught others how to do it, and I can get you started right here on my blog. It’s a lovely way to pass down memories without saying, “When I was your age…”  which no child likes to hear!

June contest ends today. If you leave a comment, you have a chance of winning a choice of two books shown below plus a $25 gift certificate to Amazon or BN.

As always, thanks for stopping by. I hope to see you for the next edition of Starting Over.

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