My sister recently asked me to write something about how I’ve managed to have what she sees as an interesting and successful life. I gave it some thought and found the answer in a paper I wrote almost 30 years ago for an English class I took in an adult education setting. I have to say that by no means do I see myself through my sister’s eyes. I see myself most often as rather flaky because I am a dabbler. I worked as a secretary for nearly my whole adult life, but not at the same place. I am easily bored and often changed jobs to get a new perspective. I enjoy talking with interesting people about varied subjects. I became acquainted once with a lady who owned our town’s only radio station and ended up working for her part-time as a newscaster and recording commercials. I rubbed shoulders with some amazing journalists representing some of the bigger establishments at various events I attended. I could go on and list other examples of my eclectic life, but the point my sister wanted me to make is how I’ve managed to collect such a wide variety of experiences, aside from the fact that I’m old and naturally have collected experiences. The paper I referred to above was in answer to an assignment to write about the most influential person in my life. I’ve done some editing of that paper, but the message has not changed. I entitled my paper, “First Sight,” and think it answers my sister’s question quite nicely.
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Donna
I’ve been reading a book entitled “Regain Your Brain” by Peggy Sarlin. The tag line for this book is “Powerful New Scientific Discoveries That Give you Back a Youthful Mind.” The first chapter deals with the issue of sleep deprivation and its association with dementia and Alzheimers. I want to share some great information from this book and what we can do on a proactive basis to protect ourselves as much as possible from these diseases. There is still so much we don’t know about these conditions, and I certainly don’t pretend to be an authority. However, it occurs to me that we can take precautions and make some practical choices that could stave off the debilitating long term effects of a variety of health issues.
According to the National Center on Sleep Disorders, an estimated 70 million Americans have sleep problems, and the most common cause of memory loss is lack of sleep.
I’ve learned there are four stages of sleep referred to collectively as a cycle and that it’s important for our bodies to consistently move through each stage to fully reap the healing benefits of quality sleep. A cycle consists of stages 1, 2, 3 (non-REM) and REM (rapid eye movement). Each stage lasts five to fifteen minutes. Thus each cycle lasts about ninety minutes. On average, our bodies move through four to five cycles each night, and the entire cycle has specific restorative powers.
One of the most interesting things I found about this pattern of restoration is the part it plays in a daily nap. It’s suggested we limit that nap to no more than about twenty minutes. To do otherwise, we not only risk being able to fall asleep at night, but it hampers our ability to fully appreciate the restorative qualities available to us in a deep sleep state. A short power nap is said to boost our memory, cognitive skills, creativity, and energy level. It’s also touted to be a way to treat sleep deprivation. Keeping it short is the key.
Not so many years ago, I marveled that my life and the lives of my family seemed relatively carefree. Our children were all in good places with their own lives, in stable relationships, healthy and happily pursuing their dreams. My husband and I had retired and set off to fulfill one of our dreams of being missionaries for our church in a foreign land. Thankfully, we had the means to do that, and our health allowed us to have that choice. I thanked my Father in Heaven often and as a matter of course, asked Him for blessings, of which I am in need. My eternal companion often expressed his love for me, and he honored our vows. Our children showed their love and respect for us as their parents. Our grandchildren showed obvious adoration towards us, and we had an adequate income, a nice home, and many friends. I don’t know what blessings I expected the Lord to give me beyond all this, but I had learned to pray with that phrase being a vital part. That learned order also mandated that I first thank God for all my blessings, which I obligatorily did.
My life is so different these days. Our children have experienced many challenges, and as my husband and I age, we experience health challenges which put strains on our budget. The most difficult thing, however, is the loss of our daughter to cancer.
Eva Fry recently marked her 80th birthday with a grand celebration and she did it with a big smile on her beautiful face and many plans for the future. I managed to get her to sit still for an hour and visit with me about her full life. She’s physically active, keeps herself mentally stimulated and is grateful for her many talents. She’s a singer, a song writer, a champion walker, an author, a pageant winner, a comedienne, a motivational speaker, a dedicated swimmer, a survivor, and a life-long positive thinker.
A recent knee injury slowed Eva down a little. She’s replaced her daily run with power walking and swimming and as the current Ms. Idaho Senior America will participate in the 2019 National Pageant in Atlantic City, New Jersey slated for the end of October.
My sister asked me to tackle a couple of subjects with blog posts, the first being how my birth position in our family might have influenced the way I handle my role as a grandmother. This is no small feat considering I have a brood close to a couple dozen.
I am the eldest in a family of six children with four sisters and a brother. I use the present tense with these associations even though all have passed with the exception of me and one sister. Breast cancer took our mom when she was but 56 years of age and colon cancer claimed a 42-year-old sister as well as my brother before he reached the age of 60. Two more sisters died within months of each other from Type 2 Diabetes complications. That same condition caused the death of my father when he was 78 years old.
I include this prelude to help you understand that life to me is precious and living a life where quality is as important as quantity is important to me. That said, I decided a long time ago to do what I could to live a healthy life, thus I don’t smoke or drink alcohol. I’ve also been proactive as far as having regular good health screenings with medical professionals. If I could more effectively control my weight, I’m sure I’d be better off.
At the top of my list of things to do today is a lecture entitled “Applying Traditional Eastern Medicine to Promote Health and Well-Being,” by Kaoru Yamamoto, PhD, Professor, Intercultural Consultant/Trainer, Kinetic Coach.
I left this morning with time to spare and decided to use a parking space farthest away to get some walking steps in. I got to the classroom with about five minutes to spare, found a seat, filled out a name card, and started filling out the registration form. I quickly took in the classroom and noticed many posters dealing with pain management. I also noted the people who obviously were in charge of the class did not appear to be of eastern descent mirroring anyone named Dr. Yamamoto. I decided I better verify my place and found out I was not.
There is a grouping of buildings and I am directed to go to entry door 3 of the building behind my current location. The time is tight, but I can walk fast when I have to and I am getting in my steps. I left the building, crossed a bridge spanning a small gully and took a path winding around the front of the building through a nice garden. I wanted to make the most of what is now a very tight time schedule, so I went directly to the information desk. “No ma’am, that lecture is at the building across the street,” the receptionist told me as she smiled.
Life is wonderful or at least it should be. I believe we are on this earth as part of a grand plan with a purpose to gain experience and to enjoy all of God’s creations. I also believe it goes beyond that. I don’t know that there’s much we can do to orchestrate where we are raised or the circumstances of our life. This said I believe we are all spirit brothers and sisters, have a common set of Heavenly parents and our lives on this earth are part of a grand design we agreed to in the preexistence. I don’t think our creator is completely managing our lives. I think He may have a general plan for us just as we have a general plan for our children. We recognize that our responsibility is to help them gain the wherewithal to take care of themselves and to contribute positively to our world. We’re born into families and conditions of varying circumstances. Our challenge is to navigate our way through that jungle. It isn’t easy and certainly not always fair from our limited point of view.
I’ve often wondered why I was born into what I deem to be an ordinary family while others I know of are born into abject poverty and a lifetime of sacrifice. My life hasn’t been one with ideal circumstances, but my parents always made sure there was food on the table and a roof over our heads and I knew they loved us. I was never abused at all and I never felt disadvantaged. I knew our family did not have many things I assumed other people had. It didn’t bother me, I just figured that’s the way it was. It took a while for me, but I finally figured out that my mindset made the difference in how I perceived my truth. I recall as a young wife and mother finally understanding that I was in charge of my own contentment. At one point I briefly considered looking for something that would make me happier. It’s not like I had some grand ah-hah moment, but I believe that the Lord inspired me to know that I needed to be content and concentrate more on the goodness around me rather than obsessing about what I might be lacking. I’m just saying what I decided for myself. I’m not advocating that people who do otherwise are somehow at fault. My conclusions are mine, they fit me not other people.
I’ve pondered over the meaning of love. I have friends and family members who talk about “falling in love” and often those same people use the term, “we just fell out of love.” I guess for me I figured that people were either “in love” or just hadn’t found that relationship. I thought if you were “in love” you were there for the long haul.
As a teenager, I recall that twitterpated feeling in my stomach when a boy named Robert Stewart passed by. I felt light-headed and was sure I would pass out if he so much as looked at me, not even dreaming he would ever say hello. Once at a junior high school sock hop, he asked me to dance and it was all I could do to nod my head in the affirmative, let alone chat while dancing. Looking back, I’m sure I was the biggest dweeb ever. I knew I had botched my big chance for “true love.”
I’ve been going to an aerobics class taught at my local community center especially for senior citizens. The first time I went to this class, I peeked in the doorway and saw several rows of folding chairs. At each chair were a brightly colored ball, a pair of hand weights and a colored band secured with handles on each end. I felt disappointment assuming this meant low-impact sitting exercises geared for those not able to manage strenuous movement. I determined that I’d complete the class and continue my search for something more challenging. I learned very quickly that though this class was labeled “Silver Sneakers Workout,” the 45-minute class was not confined to sitting exercises. The majority of class time was spent in constant upright motion. The class meets Monday through Friday and has four rotating instructors. Each has her own method of instruction and varies the routines to challenge every part of the body. Even the exercises involving sitting are not only challenging, but invigorating. Time goes by rapidly and the attendees offer encouragement and support to one another.
I have eight children, twenty-eight grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. The process of adoption helped us claim two of our children with our own biology adding two more. The next four came through the marriages of said children. We quickly became Grandma and Grandpa to twenty-one grandchildren within a space of two decades. Two of those grandchildren are adopted and then four were added recently through the second marriage of one of our sons. We also claim the spouses of three married grandchildren and a year ago we became great grandparents to a darling little girl. Does all that make your head spin? It does mine, especially when we all get together. The little ones range in age from a one-year-old to a twenty-six-year-old and the personalities are varied, to say the least. You know what else, it’s easy to love them all.
Someone asked me once if my affection for my biological children was greater somehow than towards those whom we adopted. I thought about it for a bit and decided that for me, love can’t be controlled or directed. When our first child was placed in my arms, my heart embraced him and I couldn’t imagine loving anything more than I loved him. It seemed natural to give my heart to him and pledge my allegiance to his care and safety. Our second son was placed with us three years later and because I felt so completely in love with his older brother, I told myself that I needed to show equal love to this dark-headed bundle in my arms. It wasn’t hard at all. His sweet nature and beautiful dark eyes studied mine. Our hearts entwined, love flourished and life was wonderous.
When I was young, I knew girls who would lay out in the sun slathered with baby oil. The goal, brown the skin to a healthy glow. I didn’t do that. To me, it seemed like a waste of time to just lay there. I was what we now call a free-range child. My friends and I played outside all day, “out from underfoot,” my mother would say.
My friend, Louise, lived up the street. I would skate up to her house and stand outside calling her name, “Louuuuu-ee-es.” I don’t know why I didn’t walk up to her door and knock, it’s just what we did. When she wanted me, she stood in front of my house and called out, “Daaa-na.” We didn’t have phones, so that wasn’t an option. From there, strapped on roller skates adorned our shoed feet and we would traverse up and down the street negotiating the cracks, humps, and gravel the best we could. The skates we used fit over our shoes and could be adjusted with keys to fit our growing feet. Sometimes we had to oil the wheels and then be extra cautious because those wheels turned more freely when lubricated. And if we lost our key, we’d borrow someone else’s key, because they all worked interchangeably.