Tag Archives: life

Jul21

You’re Never There

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You’re Never There

I disagree. I can’t say I’m never there, but I definitely can say that I’m seldom there. And just where is there? Why, it’s Facebook of course!

Just why am I seldom there? Because life is to be lived. That means up front and personal. That means interacting with other people. It doesn’t mean staring at a screen on my phone or on my laptop all day. That isn’t living.

Basically, I share my WordPress blog on Facebook. I belong to three writers groups on Facebook which I don’t always check out as often as I would like to. I’ve learned a lot about writing and publishing from these groups. As I’ve said many times before, send me a private message if you want me to be aware of something important going on in your life. With hundreds of friends on Facebook, I don’t have time to waste scrolling and sifting through far too many shared posts every day to find the ones that may truly be worth reading.

Occasionally I read posts on Facebook from a group called If You Grew Up In Winnipeg. There are two types of people who post here…those who still live there and haven’t experienced life outside of Winnipeg and those that have escaped Winnipeg when they have discovered the adventures that can be found elsewhere. However I must admit that I do find some of the photos quite interesting.

I had a stimulating conversation with a friend in Winnipeg last night. We’re both divorced, have adult children and grandchildren. We both concluded that our lives have not turned out the way we envisioned them years ago. But we do find our lives challenging as well as fulfilling.

And I wholeheartedly continue to embrace this philosophy…………………. First Coffee, Now What?

And you?

Jul8

Beam Me Back

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Beam Me Back

My childhood was in the fifties and my teenage years in the sixties. I never thought about it back then but when I look back at it today……….”Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end,” sang Mary Hopkin. But those days did end. I look around me and can’t believe what I see today.

We can’t blame everything on the availability of technology, although many would prefer to do so. Kids today aren’t nearly as carefree as we were back then. Fire drills have been replaced by other drills in the classroom; drills that were unimaginable when I was young.

My own kids came along in the eighties. At a very young age they were playing games like “Don’t talk to Strangers,” not Cowboys and Indians. They learned to decode alarm systems instead of coming home to unlocked doors after school. The internet was at their fingertips to read about war and violence. As a child I wasn’t even allowed to watch the 11 o’clock news as my parents thought it might give me nightmares.

Today it’s worse. Here in the Wenatchee Valley crime rates are higher than the national average. We are all still reeling from the tragic death of three sisters at the hands of their murderous father. And he is still at large. This is something that should be reserved for a Lifetime movie. It shouldn’t be happening in real life in our own backyard.

As a child, we played outside with friends until the streetlights came on. Neighbors looked out for each other and someone was always checking up on the kids, whoever’s house they happened to be playing at. The front porch was a popular place to sit. Today people back out of their garages and don’t even know their neighbors. Backyard decks allow for even more privacy; or is it seclusion?

Hitchhike? Accept a ride from a stranger while waiting at a bus stop? Unheard of today. I wouldn’t even want my child to use public transit so those options are definitely eliminated. The term “helicopter parent” would absolutely apply to me. And that isn’t good parenting either. Kids have to learn to make choices, preferably good ones. And they don’t have the opportunity to do that if they’re overprotected.

And then there’s the opposite. There are the kids who have too much freedom, the kids whose parents are too wrapped up in themselves to notice the warning signs that their kids are struggling and getting into trouble. And when they finally do notice a problem, the blame is more often than not put on the teacher or the coach instead of the parent.

Dick, Jane and Sally. Spot and Puff. Where have you gone?

Jun12

Where Do you See Yourself Five Years From Now?

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Where Do you See Yourself Five Years From Now?

Anyone who has ever worked a day in their life has been asked this question in an interview at some point. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never gotten the answer right.

And when I’ve been on the other side of the desk there is one response I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I was interviewing potential support workers in a group home for mentally challenged adults. As a manager, I was well aware of the questions I was allowed to ask as well as the ones I was not allowed to ask. But the five year was always a favorite. I got the usual responses about the entry level position being a stepping stone to a future career in social services. I also heard that a part-time job while attending school would provide the much needed funds to further their education. And then there were the ones with the canned responses of doing something meaningful and making a difference in someone else’s life.

But this one response came across as being both brave and blatantly honest. The interviewee was a recent high school graduate. “I haven’t got a f***ing clue.” He went on to explain that his parents were pressuring him to go to university. He had no interest in doing this and wanted to head out into the work world first. Criminal records check was clean and he had minimal volunteer experience on his resume. Working with mentally challenged adults sounded interesting to him. He was also willing to take on overnight shifts and work on weekends. I hired him. And he turned out to be quite as good as he looked on paper.

While I don’t recall recall any of my own responses to the 5 year question when I was being interviewed, I highly doubt that I was as blatantly honest as this young man. It’s also been decades since I’ve been asked this question in an interview. Instead I’m quite confident that I’ve asked it of others far more times.

It’s also been years since I retired. And if anyone asked me that 5 year question today, there’s no doubt in my mind that I would be as honest as that young man was, although I would probably express it in a far less colorful manner. Sometimes I can’t fathom what my life will be like in five months or five weeks or even five days, so please don’t ask me about five years from now.

But it is a good question to ask. It is something to contemplate.

I’ve told you my answer. What’s yours?

May30

So How Was Your Childhood?

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So How Was Your Childhood?

As I lazily sipped coffee and checked my emails in bed this morning, the TV was on in the background. But instead of a movie in Spanish, the channel was INSP and the show was an old western. My favorites to watch include The Rifleman, High Chapparal and Gunsmoke. And they bring back memories of my childhood; the days when we only had three channels and no cable.

As an adult, it’s a mystery to me why my parents allowed me to watch these violent shows where people were always being shot, killed or scalped yet viewing a newscast was forbidden. After all, the daily news might somehow cause me to have nightmares. At least that’s what they told me.

I had a cap gun. I can still feel it in my hand and I can still smell it after it went off. As kids, we always played Cowboys and Indians. One of my friends actually had a toy bow and arrow, so being an Indian wasn’t all that bad. But the good guys were always the Cowboys and the bad guys were always the Indians. And my skills with that cap gun were far superior to those with a bow and arrow.

I also had water pistols. I mean, you could still always yell “Bang! Bang! You’re Dead!” using those instead of cap guns.

Flash ahead to when my kids came along. Their water pistols looked like animals, not guns. And I never allowed them to have any kind of toy gun. But I did let them watch the newscasts on TV. And I’m certain I let them watch more than a few TV shows and movies that were probably quite inappropriate for their age. And they seemed to have turned out okay. They aren’t serial killers or criminals.

But growing up in the 50s was a lot more “wholesome” than being a child in the 80s. It was safe to play outside until the streetlights came on. Everyone knew their neighbors. We had front porches not decks in the backyard. We didn’t have attached garages so we actually interacted with our neighbors. We never locked our doors in the 50s. My kids learned how to arm and disarm an alarm system.

We’re in the 2020s now. Kids have drills informing them what to do if there is a shooter in the school. And I thought fire drills were scary enough!

I wonder if someday my kids might look back and ponder about their childhood compared with their kids’ childhood.

So how was your childhood?

Apr17

My Mind Is Wandering

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My Mind Is Wandering

Yesterday afternoon I was chatting with a friend online. I told her I might have to come back to Winnipeg to take care of a legal matter. She told me that my life would make a great book. Today another friend told me to forget the book. Just go after the screenplay.

I actually began writing some memoirs a few years ago when I was living in Leavenworth, inspired by a course I was taking at the time. I thought they might be nice to leave for my granddaughter. But the more I got into it, the more I realized that there were a lot of things that had gone on in my life that I didn’t want her to know about, especially since my children didn’t even know about them.

I once contemplated writing an autobiography. But if I wrote an autobiography, no-one would believe it. People would think it was fiction. In all honesty, I’m living this life and I have a hard time believing it. But my close friends who have been there for me throughout the years continue to assure me that my life is very real and is definitely not fiction. They’ve seen the crazy things that have gone on, especially in the last couple of decades.

And that brings me back to the legal issue which is a daunting dilemma. My close friends know about it and that’s enough for now. There won’t be anything in my blog until the matter is resolved. And that will take time.

It’s a glorious spring day out there today. The sun shines brightly in the sky and the temperature is hovering around 90 degrees. I went out to the flea market on my street very early this morning in order to avoid the stifling heat later on in the day.

My neighborhood has taken on a very different feel this week. La Feria de San Marcos begins on Saturday. Three weeks of music, rides, vendors and celebration. Thousands of people throng here not only from Mexico but from other countries as well. Hundreds of worker have been at it for weeks now setting up. And I am living a mere two blocks away from one of the main stages!

Emiliano came unexpectedly for an English class today although the kids are off school this week for Semana Santa. We talked about the solar system and watched a short video. He is looking forwarding to seeing Minecraft over the holidays. He enjoys the game and is excited about seeing the movie. So we watched the trailer together in English.

I’m still listening to audiobooks but this morning I have a music playlist on in the background as I write this. Everything from Backstreet Boys to Marianas Trench. Actually it’s great music for writing memoirs, but I’m not going there today, or anytime soon.

Time for lunch. Ricardo made lasagna. Yummy!

Mar5

Different Things

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Different Things

I slept in this morning. My first cup of coffee was at eleven. Breakfast was pasta alfredo at about 1 pm. It’s humpday and it’s one of those days.

Today I read a blog post written by a friend in Missouri. It began by mentioning memoirs, evolved into family life, and from there went on to a craft project. Despite the fact that the rain exacerbates her knee and back pain, she always plows her way through to finding something positive. You are an inspiration to all of us, Ty. Thank you.

Sea snakes are harassing beachgoers in Puerto Vallarta. These poisonous creatures are dangerous. It used to be just the tides we had to watch out for. And I guess we can throw the jellyfish in with that too. I detest snakes so won’t be going to Puerto Vallarta anytime soon.

Time to embarrass one of my kids. My daughter just competed in the CPU Nationals (Canadian Powerlifting) and qualified for Internationals. She is off to Panama in October to compete. It’s exciting that I get to watch her live online. It’s almost like being there.

I found a great dentist here in Aguascalientes. His office is only a five minute walk from my house. A visit to the dentist isn’t one of my favorite pastimes, but he was excellent and I actually felt quite relaxed. I’ve even forgiven him for the white diet he put me on after the whitening process.

I won’t comment on Trump’s speech last night. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and I’m not interested in sparring with friends who are staunch Democrats and friends who are staunch Republicans. We’ll just have to wait and see how everything turns out.

I just signed up for a virtual program with NCW Libraries. This one is being presented as a part of Women’s History Month and deals with homelessness.

I’ve started to think about returning to Washington in May but, as usual, am procrastinating the arduous task of booking flights.

Have a great afternoon!

Jan28

A Typical Day

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A Typical Day

People often ask me to write a post about a typical day in Mexico. I cringe when I hear the word “typical.” To me it’s synonymous with the word “normal.” These are not common words in my vocabulary. But today is Tuesday, January 28th and this is what my day has been like so far.

I was up by eight, sipping coffee in bed and watching a movie on Lifetime. Of course the movie was in Spanish as I’m always determined to hone my Spanish skills. Even that early in the morning this movie was one of those horror-thrillers.

I had a lively conversation with my Uber driver about torta ahogadas. Right next door to where I live are some of the best tortas I’ve found here since I left Guadalajara. My driver is eager to try them after my recommendation.

First stop was the bank. The ATM worked perfectly! It even printed my receipt and didn’t attempt to eat my debit card. Yes, it’s going to be a good day.

I then enjoyed a delicious breakfast at Date Latte. Scrambled eggs, chilaquilles, and black beans. With all that protein I’m really ready for the day.

The next conversation with an Uber driver focused on the upcoming Ferria in Aguascalientes. This celebration runs for three weeks beginning in late April and stretches from Centro all the way out to the Isla (I was told approximately 10 kilometers) and attracts thousands of people from all over Mexico as well as other countries every year. And I live about two blocks away from music, carnival rides, vendors and food galore.

I’m back at home now sifting through email and what’s app messages. I’m also eagerly awaiting the arrival of my new friend Ricardo. One of my Mexican friends recommended him to me and I am eternally grateful. Ricardo cooks for me and delivers although he is about a twenty minute drive from me. Among the offerings this week are delicious roasted chicken and a pork dish with vegetables. He comes once a week and I fill my fridge with amazing and healthy food. He knows I try to avoid fried foods and is well aware of my allergy to fish and seafood.

I plan to work on my book for a while after I post this. I’m getting down to my final editing. I am enjoying writing fiction. There is no need for disclaimers and people recognizing themselves in case studies. I just get to make things up as I go along. It’s a nice change from the two self-help books I’ve published. Of course I haven’t left psychology behind. My protagonist is bipolar and struggles with drug addiction.

Later this afternoon I’m facilitating a conversation club with adults. There are so many people here who are eager to learn English. However work schedules and finances do not always permit attending a school or language institute. As a retired English teacher, I now volunteer my time helping these people.

That’s my day so far. No idea what happens later on. I may decide to start writing at midnight and write all night. Or I may not. For me, there is no such thing as a typical day.

Jan7

What is the greatest gift someone could give you?

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What is the greatest gift someone could give you?

I’ve been doing the prompts every day on WordPress but as I said before I’m not going to post all of them. But this prompt is one that I think I will share.

The greatest gift someone can give me is not anything of a materialistic nature. That rules out jewelry, expensive clothing, electronics, candy and even chocolate. And I am a chocoholic. Yes, over the years I have received a lot of the aforementioned gifts.

What I treasure most is a gift of the heart. Time. A small monosyllabic word with such a deep meaning.

We all lead busy lives. We work, we volunteer, we travel and we pursue other activities that interest us. But when people take time out of their busy lives to talk, go for a walk, share a meal or coffee, go to a movie, phone, email or even text…………….that is the most precious gift that they can give me. They are taking the time to share a part of their life with me.

The path I have chosen for myself is not an easy one. As I age, obstacles and distractions appear to surface in abundance. But I am blessed with many friends in my life who care and are encouraging and supportive. And I do my best to reciprocate and find time for my friends. After all, it’s the moments we share that count, not the things.

TIME. A priceless gift. A valuable gift. The greatest gift.

Daily writing prompt
What is the greatest gift someone could give you?
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Sep24

Desperate Housewives

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Desperate Housewives

When I come up to Washington each spring, one of my favorite pastimes is watching TV in English. In Mexico I make a point of watching in Spanish. I also find myself binge watching certain series with my friend Linda. Seeing as there has been no Virgin River or Lincoln Lawyer this year, we’ve watched Eric and My So Called Life.

I’m also watching one series on my own. Desperate Housewives brings back a lot of memories when on Sunday nights my kids and I used to watch it together. Once I moved to Mexico I never did catch up on the remaining seasons so I decided to do that now.

I’m in Season 7 now. This morning’s episode was when Gabrielle confronted her past. At first she fought the therapy sessions. But then she realized that the only way to move on with her life was to deal with the demons in her past. The big one was sexual abuse by her stepfather.

And that brought me back to my counseling days. One of the first people I ever counseled was a young woman dealing with sexual abuse. It took her years to finally be brave enough to come forward and admit the abuse. And as a counselor, I’m certain that I was only the first of professionals to come who would help her along the journey to healing.

In the very first counseling class I ever took, our instructor gave us a rather interesting first assignment. We were told to find a therapist; the idea being that if we had never been on the client side of that desk then we would never succeed on the counselor side. By a show of hands, I also recall that in that classroom of more than twenty students, only three of us admitted that we had previously been in therapy. Also noteworthy is that the following week, the class had greatly diminished in size. While there were more than three students, there were far fewer than twenty.

Back to Desperate Housewives and Gabrielle. This episode got me thinking of my own past. No. I never experienced sexual abuse. But I have sat on the client side of that desk and I know how difficult it is to look back at your childhood and realize that it was far from idyllic. Truthfully, the presence of both a mother and a father in the home does not necessarily make a family functional; indeed it can be quite the opposite.

I may be retired but I can still offer advice. Be open to suggestions. Embrace change. Take risks. We only get one crazy ride on the roller coaster of life.

Sep13

No Escape

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No Escape

There’s just no escape. I’m still trapped. I’m surprised I don’t have daymares as well as nightmares. Photos are haunting. And they just won’t go away.

I spent two months in Winnipeg scanning photos. Right now they’re still as chaotically organized as they were when I returned to East Wenatchee. I’ve backed them up onto three different external hard drives and I doubt I’ll do anything more with them until I return to Mexico for the winter. And I wonder if future generations will appreciate the effort that went into this project of scanning photos. After all, today’s photos are already digitalized as the majority come from cellphones. Cameras and movie cameras before the advent of cellphones are dinosaurs. Taking rolls of film in to be developed and waiting days or weeks to see them are also a thing of the past. And there is no longer the necessity to store large, bulky photo albums. Slides and slide projectors? Almost extinct.

Photos are time consuming and I was at it again today for about four hours. But this time I wasn’t scanning. I downloaded hundreds of photos from Mexico, Washington and two trips to Canada from my phone onto my computer. I organized them into files and then backed them up onto external hard drives. And maybe someday I’ll want to look at them again.

Photos are a treasure trove of memories. People. Places. Events. Chapters in life. Unwritten memoirs. But they are nonetheless memories recorded for posterity.