Your Kingdom for a Gallon of Gas

Most of you who know me know that I am only in my early-50's. I've worked hard to get here, and I am glad to be the age that I am. It comes with certain scars, but also with some degree of wisdom, experience, and grace borne simply from having maneuvered the seasons of my life thus far.

That being said, I am not anxious to rapidly advance in age; time moves all too quickly as it is. I'll patiently work with it and wait it out, even though there are still some perks ahead it seems. Well, I've already joined AARP, as its qualifying age was lowered to 50 many years ago, and one need not even be retired to join. Some restaurants offer senior discounts, most of which start at age 55 or 60, so this looms in my not-so-far-off future.

Many grocery stores, too, offer senior discounts. Kroger, for instance, offers seniors age 60 or older a 5% discount off their grocery bills every Wednesday. No ID required; no verification requested. None of the red tape in which I would assume one becomes entangled when applying for, say, Medicare. A happy event to be afforded an additional 5% off your grocery bill . . . unless you are without question or the raising of an eyebrow mistaken for 60.

Needless to say, I was a bit taken aback when I saw the senior discount ring up on my register receipt this morning. I am so far from 60! I didn't know whether to be insulted or grateful for the additional $4.14 discount. Obviously, the young man behind the register must have granted the discount to my husband who accompanied me on the shopping trip, and not to myself, for I have been told I don't look a day over 45.

Yes, I estimated, the discount was for my poor dh (who is 2 years my junior); he is surely the one who looks 60. I, therefore, accepted it without comment and with the poise of a barely early-50's woman. And although dh didn't mind the affront too much, he likened the aging of humanity to save a dollar to the trading one's kingdom for a gallon of gas!

Have a blessed day!

Babies Don't Keep

Well, here I am "retired," 20 years too late, and now that I could do whatever I want with no time schedule, I find there is nothing to do, yet still so much to do. If this were 20 years ago, my dreams would have come true. I would be a stay-at-home mom, I would be there for my two young sons, they would be the priority of my life as it should be, I would see their first steps, hear their first words, watch their first everythings. Instead, I missed it all, left it to the hands and hearts and eyes and ears of strangers. Not because I wanted to; not because I was out there climbing some insignificant corporate ladder; not because I was trying to keep up with the Joneses, but because I had to. My circumstances forced me to.

So now, here I am, semi-retired, no schedule, no deadlines, no walls, no bosses, but it's all too little, too late. Nevertheless, I'll log my days, my hours, my unevents; maybe I'll see a pattern, maybe something good will develop, even though nothing could ever take the place of, make up for, all the time I've missed and all the time my boys have missed with me. I'll never get over it, I'll never get it back, I'll never replace it, I'll never forgive it, myself, my circumstances.

Most people look forward to retirement. Perhaps they don't have regrets. Perhaps they feel as though they've done their part, they've earned it. Perhaps retirement means more when you can move to Boca Raton, take a cruise, buy a condo, fly to Paris, I don't know. I still have too much to figure out. Too many things I wish I'd done differently, too many years I wish I could rewind and relive.

There's a timeless poem that reminds us "babies don't keep." I heard it many years ago, and it's been the lament of my soul since my children were small. The mother in this poem is not worried about the appearance of her home, her undone dishes, her unmade bed, laundry half-done; she has more important tasks at hand. She knows that in an instant her children will be gone--her boys, men; her daughters, grown. Her job is eternal, and her tenure fleeting.

Oh, how my heart ached every day I had to go out to some office somewhere and leave my children behind. At night, I cried; not from the sheer exhaustion of it all, but because I had to do it over again the next day, drop my little boys off at some daycare center at what seemed like first light, not being able to pick them up again until dusk. It didn't seem fair.

They grew so fast. Now they are men, gone their separate ways, and the days I missed and the days they missed cannot be recovered. All the jobs I've ever had sooner or later went on without me, I never got richer, or more important, or more renowned, never got a bigger house, finer things, yet it's 20 years later and I'm left wondering where all the time went and what it was all for.

Because I had to work, I had no choice. I wonder.

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth

empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

hang out the washing and butter the bread,

sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue

(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due

(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew

and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo

but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?

(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Have a blessed day.

I Remember

I just now read the story my Uncle George wrote about "the olden days" called "How Many Remember This" (see his blog at http://gematthai.blogspot.com/2008/03/how-many-remember-this.html). I wish I'd read it sooner. It seemed to center on shopping in downtown Cincinnati and touched on the stores, the modes of transportation, where we ate, all fondly remembered by George, and many of us who read the article as well. I too remember most of the people, places, and things he mentioned, although I am quite a bit older than his daughter, Cathy, my cousin, who commented that she could recall such sites and experiences as well.

I particularly remember going downtown with grandma (Nora), and it was always an all-day excursion on the bus and back. We always went to Woolworth's and Neisner's and Shillitos. I do not remember elevators with elevator men (I assume they were all men), but I do remember what George mentioned last in his article, escalators. In those days they were very, very narrow and steep, a bit frightening to a little girl who thought she might get caught if she didn't jump off just right!

We always ate at the lunch counter at Woolworth's, one thing I dearly miss and recall very distinctly. We always sat in a booth as well. (I think Grandma was too short to sit on the bar stool.) I also remember the basement; we always went there as it was called the "bargain basement." Since Woolworth's and other such stores in those days were called "dime stores," I don't know how much more of a bargain there could possibly have been found there. I suppose they were akin to today's "dollar stores."

Stroll down Memory Lane for more history and pictures of Woolworth's at this blog:


http://expolounge.blogspot.com/2007/01/woolworths-lunch-counter.html

An egg sandwich was $.30. Imagine that!

Cathy, I, too, remember the candy counter: we often were treated with candy necklaces--little candy "jewels" on elastic string--or candy strips--those wide pieces of paper with about 4 "dots" of colored candies neatly spaced in row upon row; or my brother's favorite, tiny wax "Coke" bottles, 4 to a tiny carton, with juice inside. One just had to bite off the top--and spit it out :) -- to take a drink. And what about the candy "cigarettes?" Sticks of pure sugar with a red-painted tip; we surely looked grown-up with those hanging out of our mouths!

Get it all here at Nostalgic Candy.com http://www.nostalgiccandy.com/index.asp



I was always most impressed, though, by the Tyler Davidson Fountain in Fountain Square. I know it's changed so much over the years, both the fountain and The Square, but it always stood out as a most amazing site! (Photo courtesy of HelloCincinnati.com)



There was no air conditioning on the buses (do they have air conditioning today?), and the windows were always open in the summer. They only went down half-way as I recall; perhaps a safety feature? The buses were loud and hot and crowded, and they stopped at every block. We couldn't wait to pull the string when we were nearing our stop and always bickered over whose turn it was.

I still can't really say, "Those were the days," but there will always remain some fond memories. Thanks for the story, Uncle George!

Have a blessed day!

1954: The Year in Review (Happy Birthday to Me)

In 1954, the movie “On the Waterfront” with Marlon Brando won the Academy Award for best picture. Also in Hollywood, Marilyn Monroe wed Joe DiMaggio. The first of the Godzilla series of movies was released in Japan.

The first color T.V. was manufactured by RCA in 1954. It cost $1000 for a 12” screen. We always had a black and white T.V. when I was growing up. It was in a great big console and had a small roundish screen. I believe we got our first color T.V. in the early-70’s. It was still in a large floor console, but it had a bigger screen. The first Miss America Pageant was aired on television. Seizing the opportunity of a lifetime, American Gerry Thomas invented the T.V. Dinner in 1954.

Bill Haley & His Comets recorded “Rock Around the Clock” in New York City. On July 7, 1954, WHBQ in Memphis became the first radio station to air an Elvis Presley record, and rock-n-roll was about to change the face of the American teenage culture.

In the medical realm, the first mass vaccination of children against polio began in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I remember polio vaccinations, and the day my brother and sister and I first received ours. It seems to me they used a needle that rather scraped the vaccine into your skin; I don’t think it hurt but all children are afraid of “shots.” It was the initial polio vaccine developed by Dr. Jonas Salk. Salk’s vaccine was a “killed” vaccine that prevented most of the complications of polio, but did not prevent it altogether. (I still have the scar!) Later, probably in the early-to-mid-60’s, we received an oral vaccine as well, developed by Dr. Albert Sabin, a renowned medical researcher. I vaguely remember my mother having personally known Dr. Sabin due to his affiliation as head of Pediatric Research at Cincinnati’s Children’s Hospital and his association with my mother’s boss, Joseph Kanter. I must have thought this familiarity quite impressive at the time, as I can still recall it. During that same year, the first kidney transplants were done in Boston and Paris.

The Nobel Prize for Physics was won by Max Born & Walther Bothe; for Chemistry by Linus Carl Pauling; for Physiology or Medicine by John Franklin Enders, Thomas Huckle Weller, & Frederick Chapman Robbins; for Literature by Ernest Hemingway; and for peace by The Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.

The Vietnam War was brewing, and President Dwight D. Eisenhower authorized the creation of the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado. On Flag Day, June 14, 1954, the words “Under God” are added to the “Pledge of Allegiance.” Most people think these words were always in the Pledge. I have always known them, that’s for sure!

Sports Illustrated was published for the very first time. I wonder if they had a “swimsuit issue,” and what parts of the anatomy those swimsuits covered? Roger Bannister of England was the first man to break the 4-minute mile. West Germany won the 1954 World Cup in Switzerland, defeating Hungary. Radio was giving way to T.V. as the last new episode of "The Lone Ranger" was aired after 2,956 episodes over a period of 21 years. The first transistor radio was developed for the public and cost around $49.95 ($300 in today’s money). They dropped significantly in price when they became more popular and mass-produced in the 60’s.

Nash and Hudson merged to form the American Motors Corporation (AMC). And who didn’t want a 1954 Chevrolet Corvette or a Lincoln?

As I recall, we didn’t even have a car till the late 60’s when my mother learned to drive. It was a 1960 white Rambler, something like this:

A chapter in American History closed in November, 1954, when the main immigration port-of-entry in New York Harbor at Ellis Island closed. The U.S. sent back to Mexico almost 4 million illegal immigrants. Brown vs. Board of Education made segregation in U.S. public schools unconstitutional. Rosa Parks' arrest in Montgomery, Alabama, set the American Civil Rights Movement in motion. The Boy Scouts of America desegregated on the basis of race.
The first Hyatt Hotel opened in December, 1954. It was the Hyatt House of Los Angeles, and was the first hotel built outside of an airport.

Average prices in 1954?

• House - $22,00


• Average Income - $3,960


• Ford Car - $1528 - $2415


• Milk - $.92


• Gas - $.21 (yes, per gallon!)


• Bread - $.17


• Postage Stamp - $.03


• Swiss Cheese - $.69 a pound


• American Cheese - $.55 a pound


• T-bone Steak - $.95 a pound


• DelMonte Catsup- (2) 14-oz. bottles $.25


• Post Grape Nuts Cereal - 10 oz. package $.19


• Clorox Bleach - 1/2 gallon $.19


• 20 Gallon Gas Water Heater - $75


• Semi-automatic Kenmore Washer - $154.95

The Dow Jones Industrial Average closed at an all-time high of 382.74.

Not so notable: Howard Stern was born on January 12th, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. on January 17th, Oprah Winfrey, January 20th, Bill Mumy, John Travolta, and Christie Brinkley in February. Patty Hearst, American heiress and kidnapping victim, was born on February 20th. Ron Howard, Jackie Chan, Dennis Quaid, and Jerry Seinfeld, were all born between March and April. Other births in 1954 were Freddie Prinz, James Belushi, Barry Williams, and Scott Bakula, and Al Sharpton, American politician and minister. Chris Noth, most notably from the Law and Order series, was born in November, and in December, Stone Phillips, American television journalist, and my favorite actor, Denzel Washington.

And on April 11, 1954, I was born. Robin Ann Roach to Theresa Lillian Matthai Roach and John Joseph Roach of Cincinnati, Ohio. 3rd of 7 children. Happy Birthday to me. I’m 54!

Have a blessed day.

Mugs

We just got new mugs, the first sure sign that we are taking on a new identity! From Robin & Dave to Mommy and Daddy, and now oh so suddenly, we are Grandma and Grandpa. Here in East Tennessee, many folks of our status are called “mamaw” and “papaw,” or even “meemaw” and “peapaw.” Grandma suits me fine. I’m not sure what Dave prefers, or if he’s avoiding the title altogether right now.

My mug says, “Blessed are those who raise children well, for they shall eventually be called Grandma.” It’s a lovely sentiment, although I’m not sure how much raising them “well” has to do with it. Children seem to grow up and have kids of their own in spite of their families. My son says he thinks he had a pretty good childhood though, and he was raised in the nuture and admonition of the Lord. That, after all, is the measurement that matters most.

God has a sense of humor. Dave’s mug says, “Grandchildren are God’s way of compensating for growing old.” I think he can somehow relate to this, although he won’t admit it. I tell eveyone I’m a grandma, and refer to baby Jake (yet unbirthed) as my grandson, my grandchild, my “grandsugars.” Dave refers to him as David and Amber’s baby, but I’m sure Drake will grow on him! I can almost see them at the lake, fishing rods in hand.

Amber is not due for about 6 weeks, mid-May, but all appearances predict quite an earlier birth. We do hope she carries little Drake a few more weeks at least. In the meantime, I’ll be shopping. I’ll soon need one of those wallets that has a 20 sleeve fold-out accordian picture file; it holds 40 pictures in all. And a bumper sticker.

Let me tell you about my grandchild . . .

Have a blessed day!

The Announcement

Somehow it seems appropriate. There is a crispness in the evening air. The slightest whisper of color has already begun to softly kiss the leaves of the Bradford pears. The Dogwoods will follow, then the hills will come alive with the firey oranges and reds, yellows and golds of autumn in full-spectrum. The view will be spectacular, breathtaking, awe-inspiring. Perhaps this is God's apology for ending summer all too quickly. I rather believe, though, that it is yet one more example of His magnificent grace that eases us into another season, one that has the potential to be too harsh to bear were it not for some joie de vivre in the transition.

To many, autumn is a time of ending. Ending summer, warm days, carefree lifestyles, vacations. One might miss the glory of autumn altogether and only dread the coming of winter, when life seems to stand still and frozen. I have likened my own life these last few weeks and months to such a time of ending as I have wrestled with this thing called "empty nest syndrome." How suitable it seems that my youngest child would go off to college at this time of year, when leaves begin to fall and the earth appears to die. It is, indeed, the end of a season of my own life, and just as the falling leaves and cooler air declare a change has come, so do the remnants of boyhood my son has left behind: a nearly-empty bedroom with only a few posters still clinging to the walls, a basket of worn-out clothing in the corner, and a paintball gun perched upon the corner of his desk. Poignant reminders of a vibrant youth who has embarked upon his manhood.

For days, weeks on end I've only dreaded the winter and almost missed the autumn entirely. I've not trusted God to make the transition for me, just as he transitions the seasons of nature in such splendor and magnitude. Already, even before the departure of my son, the transition was underway. Some months ago, through a series of circumstances none of us predicted, my brother and his wife came to stay with us, along with their two-year-old daughter, my niece Anna. Our home was suddenly overflowing with giggles and tea cups; away with you, you fear of lonliness; no time to lament some future grief.

My son has adjusted well to his new life away at school, and he makes me proud. Autumn is not an ending for us, either--only a change, and no doubt we'll both have many adjustments to make in the transition. He'll have new responsibilities, new friends, new opportunities; I might use his room for a workout room! He'll come home at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and we'll have loads of stories to tell each other. There will be fervor in the transition.

And lest I plunge into dread of winter all over again, I need only look to the God of the Universe whose timing is perfect and whose love is immeasureable. For just as a small child finds delight in gleefully dancing through piles of damp colored leaves, I find it hilarioulsy wonderful that my eldest son and daughter-in-law have decided to move back to this area from North Carolina. We had dinner with them this evening and they presented me with a small gift. How delightful! Knowing I have a passion for Ebay, they gave me the largest "Ebay for Dummies" book I have even seen, but as my son pointed out, it was only a cover, for there was another tell-tale gift wrapped in tissue inside the bag. I gingerly unwrapped the packaging to find a small rectangular teddy bear photo frame in lovely pastel colors playfully announcing, "Grandma and Grandpa's Little Angel."

So as autumn is a transitional time of year, this is a transitional season of my life. God has sent me children and grandchildren, not to take the place of my own two cherished sons, but to fill the void that their having grown up and created adult lives of their own has left behind. And just as the seasons are perpetual, winter will give us pause, and spring will come again. In it I will see trees and flowers bloom, hear birds sing, and hold my first grandchild for the very first time. Aaron will come home from college for the summer and we will all go on as God intended.

Have a blessed day.

A Red Hat & A Purple Dress

"What gives with a red hat and a purple dress?" my uncle asked me a few days ago in response to a recent email. I had referred to the possibility of my someday writing a blog, once I got a red hat a purple dress. Apparently, he had not yet heard of the Red Hat Society.

I sent him this link:

http://redhatsociety.com/info/howitstarted.html

and hoped he would read all about it. Surely he would get the joke. After all, I was certainly not a candidate for the Red Hats. Or was I?

As a matter of fact, I have been getting advertisements from AARP for a good 15 years now, and am about to find myself an empty-nester, come September when my youngest heads for college. Indeed, they have only one basic rule: that is, one must be a woman of 50 or over. Well, I've reached that milestone, but I certainly don't feel like a woman of 50 (or over *grin*), at least not emotionally. Maybe I could slide in with a pink hat instead (women under 50), like my girlfriend, Kim.

Some of my classmates celebrated our 35th high school reunion this past June (I didn't attend; in fact, I haven't attended a single high school reunion). My dh and I just just recently celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary in May by watching "Law and Order," eating ice cream, and going to bed at the wee hour of midnight. My eldest son will be 24 in November, and I can now order off the "senior" menu in some restaurants, although I doubt I'll ever do that, even to save a dollar.

It seems the years are adding up though, doesn't it? So why don't I feel 50-something? Could it be because I am stuck in time somewhere, never having grown out of some childhood trauma or misadventure of my youth? Does one require certain experiences that I have never enjoyed in order to feel as though they have earned the age of 50?

Perhaps I simply need to change my mindset: when I was young, 50 seemed so old, and in fact, 50 used to be older than it is today. Think about it. The median age of grandparents in this country is 57. My grandmother was 75 when I was 18! We in our early-50's are the tale-end of the baby-boomers. The world seems to be at our feet. Advertising is aimed at us for everything from health care and wellness to insurance and travel. We are a large portion of the population, and according to recent statistics, senior citizen population will grow faster than all others in all 50 states by the year 2030. Wow! No wonder "they" are all trying to get our money. The upside is much of it is geared toward helping us to look young, feel young, and stay young.

I have heard the old adage, "you're only as old as you feel." And since we choose our own feelings, I will choose to feel young, even at 50. Is it okay, after all, to "not feel 50."

Not only must I change my mindset, but also the words that come out of my mouth. Negative words ("I feel so old.") reap aches, pains, and curses. Praise and positive words reap strength and blessing:

1. Bless the LORD, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name. 2. Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: 3. Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases;
4. Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies; 5. Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.
................................................Psalm 103:1-5

So, here I am: 53 years young, and writing my first blog. I wouldn't go back for anything, although I have learned, grown, changed, and suffered a lot. I have also gained so much more. As my aforementioned friend Kim says, "I wouldn't trade my ____ years' worth of wisdom for anything."

But, I'll not yet buy a red hat and a purple dress. Not even a pink one.

Have a blessed day!