Over age fifty – Page 14 – Sandra's Hart My Over 60 Lifestyle Journey

Making Sense Of Your Life.

The other day I was standing in the kitchen waiting for my Keurig to spit out that first morning cup of coffee, mulling over why I write a blog when I have so many other projects on my plate. I have been taking several online courses about social media and blogging, so I guess that’s why it’s kind of in the forefront of my thoughts right now.

I woke up with a panic knot in my stomach thinking, wow, time is flying too fast, I still have so many things I want to do. The reality of my mortal clock ticking kind of scared me. Inside my head I’ve never felt my age and I’ve always continued to work in some creative form. But I never ever thought of an expiration deadline before. I’ve never ever thought of myself as getting older by the minute. In reality, physically, I guess I am, but mentally I still have the same kind of whirling dervish ideas I had when I was first building my life and career. The fact that I do have a ‘Sell By’ date that is getting closer and closer, I never gave more than a passing thought about it. Until yesterday.

It seems that the older I get the stronger the fire within me grows to do something more with my life, when it should be the reverse. It’s kind of an ironic joke on some of us to still have a raging furnace inside; to want to live life to the fullest and not just sit around as a woman over 50 trying to make sense of her life. Are any of you feeling that way, or am I just out of step with the rest of my readers?

I want to ride the wave. This new Internet social networking evolution and ways that we can reach out to one another is so exciting to me. When I see all of these young entrepreneurs, especially young women with families, who are able to build wonderful careers while sitting at home without leaving their nest. How super that would’ve been for those of us who were raising our children in the 60s and 70s. To be able to do something fulfilling like that and still be at home with our children. In that respect, this is a wonderful age for women entrepreneurs. For them, if they know how to use social marketing and tools that are available to them with a click of a mouse or iPhone finger, there is nothing to stop them from being successful.

Georgia O’Keefe

Oh, I know you say, look, there were artists Grandma Moses, Georgia O’Keefe and presently actresses Maggie Smith, Helen Mirren, Joan Plowright. They are well over fifty and still going strong. You can probably think of others. And now look at Betty White who is still going in her 90’s. True. But what is the percentage of those who are still given the opportunity to be creative and working at that age. Not very high. But they are there, doing what they love to do. Why not us?

Well, I guess it all comes down to the fact that as a writer, by putting my thoughts out into the universe, I have been able to get this off my chest. Maybe I will be, along with you, some of the lucky ones who can keep going on doing whatever it is they love to do for a long, long time.

It’s good to be young and fearless, sure, but I honestly don’t want to go backwards in time. I’m more comfortable in my skin and am loving where I am right now. So as long as I can remember what I did yesterday, I promise to be grateful. I think I’ll continue to give it a go for as long as I can.

I wrote something in my memoir, Behind The Magic Mirror, that I would like to share with you and that I think is quite appropriate for this post:

In 1972 I interviewed the great violinist Rubenoff. Will Rogers had been a good friend of his and as a token of their friendship Will gave Rubenoff a watch engraved with thoughts he shared with me. The core thinking of what was engraved on the watch is that we go around but once in this life and we had better enjoy every minute of it while we can, because we don’t have the knowledge to know when our time here is over.

A memo to me to keep my fire burning until the last ember.

Grandma Moses

Bedtime Stories

Her white hair was pulled so tightly away from her face and knotted on top of her head, stretching her wrinkled skin so that it morphed her face into something scary. Her high collared black dress disappeared into the colorless quilted cover that fell to the floor from her throne – the fourposter bed on which she lay against a mound of pillows. I stood there looking up at my grandmother, not moving. I was afraid. She looked like the witch I had seen in Snow White. This is the only memory of my father’s mother that I have stored. I’m not sure where those impressions are kept and what neurons are fired in my brain, but that is all I have saved. That one experience, that one moment in time, the snapshot saved of my father’s mother when I was four.

Maybe in reality she was not at all what I remember, but somehow a child’s eyes can be clairvoyant, more often than not. Stories I have heard since about my grandma fortify that perhaps I was able to see things as a four year old more clearly than the adults around me realized.

Seventy years later, my scary grandmother lives on through me in several ways. I have inherited the gene for her white hair and I also have her bed. My life has unfolded, year after year, while sleeping in the comfort of that big cherry fourposter. I have nursed three children, cried myself to sleep when I lost a husband, then my parents, and throughout many nights have kept my grandchildren safe from their ‘boogeyman dreams’ in my scary Grandma’s bed. And from the comfort of that old bed I have been blessed to have been awakened slowly by 15,330 beautiful Eastern sunrises popping over the New Jersey Shore hills.

My ancestors supposedly bought the German bed made of Kirscholz when they traveled from England to America. Large slats with high posts secured by substantial wooden screws hold the bed together, the horse hair mattress laid across the slats, provided them and the generations to follow, comfort fit for a king.*

I was told by my father that William Tecumseh Sherman, a relative of my great, great grandmother Sherman has slept in my bed. Whether this is true or not, I have no proof, but my father, a southerner, always called it “The Burning Bed,” referring to Sherman’s march through Atlanta. I have a suspicion that is why the valuable bed that my Ohio mother loved, in his eyes, was not so valuable to him and therefore, his Yankee daughter was more than welcome to it.

So I guess what it all comes down to is the eye of the beholder. My scary grandmother through the eyes of a four-year-old, maybe wasn’t so, so scary after all, but just very ill, and the ‘Burning Bed’ through the eyes of a southern gentleman was really just a beautiful work of German craftsmanship. In most things in life, it comes down to one’s interpretation. Our brain gathers the information, maps it, and then we interpret it in our own way because of prior impressions.

My son will get the poster bed this summer and it will begin a new life with another generation. Yankee based since 1949, she will travel to Nashville to live in a bedroom in a lovely plantation house in Confederate country. She will be loved and well taken care of. I think that will suit her just fine. General Sherman may roll over in his grave, but that is another story for another time.

* Horse hair mattresses priced in six figures last for years and years and are now owned by mainly royalty and billionaires.

Understanding Your Talents: Finding The Life You Want

Photo credit Mary Cloutier Angel Trail

When I was a young girl I lived on a hill above the town. Usually I took the bus, but sometimes we walked downtown by a long trail of steps called Angel Trail. The trail was surrounded by hemlock and woods and was sometimes scary, but an easy way to get downtown. The hard part was going back home up those many steps through the woods. It took energy and determination knowing the climb was worth the goal-getting home quickly with the pleasure of bus change still in our pockets.

Through my life’s journey beyond those trips up and down Angel trail, I have found no matter how old you are, or at what point you are in your life and career, one of the hardest things is taking our talents and their worth up those difficult steps beyond the personal pleasure we get using them.

“She’s a square peg in a round hole.” Being creative sometimes, I think, is similar to being cursed with the tentacles of an octopus. Why? Because there are so many directions that we can go and in reality so few career outlets where we can fit and earn a decent living.

Understanding your talents to find the life that you want is sometimes very difficult, isn’t it?

Recently I’ve had several discussions with each of my very creative children about this. How can we grow creatively in alternative directions without neglecting our mainstream talent and know which creative companion path will be the best for us?

“I think she’s a control freak.” Believe it or not, I have always found that if I let go and I don’t try so hard to figure it out, the answer usually comes when I am most still and really not expecting it. When I quit worrying about right and wrong choices or directions. If I work mentally to create my own reality through positive thinking and if I am able to evaporate the self-induced stress caused by fear and doubt, I find I can hear more clearly my inner subconscious voice showing me the way. It has always been when I let go of trying to force my own agenda, that doors open to show me the answers in both my life and career.

“That’s a crazy idea!” Quit giving power to others over your life. Easy to say I know. This was and still is the hardest hurdle for me. Don’t be afraid of what ‘they’ think. I have always been most successful when I ignore those who say it is impossible. We all want to be winners and don’t want to be ridiculed by failure, but if we don’t risk how we ever going to be successful? In anything.

“She is the oldest one here!” I began a life in television in my late twenties because I took the chance of auditioning for a job for which I practically had no qualifications. I overcame my fear of rejection, took a risk, and got the job that began my career in television. It would turn out that brave audition allowed me to support my family years later as a widowed single mother.

“Is she kidding!” When I became fifty, I didn’t listen to the naysayers and began my film and theater career. At an age when most of my friends were getting ready to retire with cocktails in one hand and a golf club in the other, I was going against the mainstream of thought at that time for women in film-I was intent to embark on a new career. And succeeded.

“I think she is becoming a recluse.” When I was sixty I sat down in front of my word processor (remember those) and I wrote my first book, checking off another from my Bucket List and adding a fulfilling creative path down which I continue to merrily walk.

“You are extraordinary.” You within yourself have the ability to do this, too. We all have many layers that make up who we are. It’s just that we have to take a risk to find those layers within ourselves and not be afraid to develop them. I never wanted to be famous. I never wanted to do anything except be able to be creative in my own way. This is something that anybody can do. Doctor, lawyer, chef, engineer. It doesn’t matter. If you are willing to work for your dreams and willing to let go of the exact direction you think you have to walk to find that dream. Let your inner subconscious, sixth sense, show you the time and way.

“Start today”. If you drop the ‘fear of change’ mindset and create your own reality through belief in your dreams, letting go of the stress related to your present discontent, you can move forward and open another door. There is nothing wrong with taking those first baby steps, testing the waters, before you jump in with both feet. Take control of your life and you may be surprised how good it feels. You have something to say, a unique talent to bring. Don’t wait. A fulfilling life awaits when you utilize all of these tools to find the life that you want now. Find your silver lining, your sense of purpose and self.

Personally, for me, the worst nightmare at my end would be to say ‘I wish I had done that.’

Garner Ray Flener Angel Trail

Let’s Band Together

I was 11 years old. I was a cheerleader. It had been a great football game that Saturday afternoon and we were on our way home. I was a happy six grader full of achievements and good friends. I grew up in a Ohio Valley steel town with of all types of immigrants and religions, but I didn’t know prejudice, none of us did. We never thought about our parents bank accounts or status. We were all friends and liked each other because we were classmates, we were neighbors, we were girlfriends.

My emotional slate was clean. Every small dream I had was realized. Every goal I wanted was achieved. I loved my parents. I loved my brother. I loved my friends. I saw no fences and I knew no fences. The meaning of hate and envy was never a part of my life up until ‘THEN.’ And it was when after that football game on Saturday that ‘THEN’ happened and my life changed forever and my perfect childhood world came crashing down around me.

My girlfriends and I used to walk together the few blocks from Roosevelt School to our homes on LaBelle View after the football games together. One by one we would say goodbye as each girl would reach their house until the last cheerleader was left to walk a few blocks to her house. This afternoon was different though as all the girls walked me to my house first. As we were saying the cheerful goodbyes, all of the sudden one of the girls started saying mean things to me. Then a couple of the other girls chimed in while the rest stood silent looking at the sidewalk and their feet.

I think I have permanently blanked out a lot of the conversation, but words like ‘snob’, ‘stuck-up’ remained in my mind, permeated my clean slate and cracked it wide open. The pieces stuck in my throat and I remember having no response other than to turn and walk up the cement steps to our front porch and into the safety of my house.

I was stunned and heartbroken. I remember lying across my bed and crying for hours as though my life had ended. This was the worst thing that ever happened to me in my life since I had been on this planet. I was so humiliated that I couldn’t even share my pain with my parents. I suffered in silence. I felt my life was over.

I am a firm believer that mind and body work together to keep us healthy. So it is of no surprise that a few months after this incident of embarrassment and abandonment by those I thought were my good friends that I became very ill. Diagnosed with rheumatic fever I was bedridden for four months. This was the pendulum swing in my life. I returned to school a shy and introverted girl, never in my teens to recapture the self-esteem that was broken and beaten down by my small group of friends that I loved.

I have since shared my story with several of my close friends and at least two of them have had similar experiences as young girls whose lives have been altered by what we now call ‘bullying.’

It’s amazing, although we’ve matured and most of us have had great achievements on our own since leaving the torturous girls behind in their small dust, the scars remain.

I understand. I really understand every time I read a tragic story of a young person reacting to being bullied. And of course today it’s so much worse because of the cyber bullying that is so easy to do. It is so easy to destroy a teenage psyche because they’re thin and fragile and not yet hardened to the reality of life and have strong self-esteem.

So today I was especially delighted when I discovered that my cousin’s daughter is involved in a program, Lets Band Togetherto help stop bullying.

Lets give peace and civility toward one another a chance.

Facebook Friends: I Know You-I Met You Not

It is no hidden fact that social media has changed the world, has changed our lives and how we connect to people. I have been thinking about this lately, and more so after I recently posted a blog regarding Kosovo and my son’s band tour there in 2000.

I know there are people who have hundreds of friends on Facebook, but I am very selective about whom I bring into my inner social circle. I have no strangers within that group, but I do have a few people that are connected to me by others and I also have a few people who I’ve known, or feel that I have met, because the connection through mail, email and then Facebook has been consistent throughout the years.

One Facebook friend in particular I have electronically known for 14 years, but never have met. His name is Bill Putnam, a photographer and journalist whom I first interacted with when he took pictures of and also wrote a very nice article about the band Tonic’s stop at Camp Bondsteel where he was stationed in 2000.

Since the lead singer/songwriter of that band just happens to be my son, Emerson Hart, the friendship began when Bill offered to send me some of the pictures he had taken of Emerson and the band during their visit during their performance at Bondsteel. Ever since that kind gesture, from time to time, I have been in touch with Bill, following him through the various phases of his life and career, both in and out of service for our country.

Bill has evolved from email-sometimes-friend to Facebook friend and has attended a few Tonic Concerts and generously taken pictures he has shared with this Tonic mother.

Electronically throughout the years I have witnessed him grow as a person, evolve, as my own son has done, and always enjoyed his photo journeys. I have invisibility watched him become a very competent photojournalist who is not just satisfied with standing still in his craft, but always experimenting, learning and challenging himself.

From his postings I gather he likes a good beer now and then with friends, loves certain sport teams, has a good sense of family and most of all, has an eye for what we want to see in the world.

Although I may never ever meet Bill Putnam in person, (the percentage chances of that unfortunately probably are pretty high), I feel I already have had that good fortune through his photography and photo posts. Bill is not afraid to tell it like it is. He crosses the lines for us. He is an interesting and talented guy, indeed, who years ago I “met” because he was a kind enough kid to send me some photos of my son in concert at Camp Bondsteel, Kosovo.

PS. You can find out more about my Facebook friend Bill Putnam at http://www.billputnam.net

Good Morning Kosovo 2000

In June of 2000 my son, Emerson Hart, and his band Tonic traveled to Kosovo and Bosnia to entertain our American troops. It would be first of many more war zone tours the boys would do in the ensuing years, including going in to Iraq, where Emerson almost was blown away by a mortar that landed near Saddam Hussein’s palace where the band was staying.

During the Kosovo tour our men and women soldiers there were tired, home sick, but always the best audience when any American came over to entertain and spend time with them. The boys always had such a warm greeting whenever they landed at the various camps along the way.

Emerson, whose father served in the Army during the Korean War, has always felt it was a privilege to be able to give back to our troops protecting our freedom. So when I recently discovered a diary post from the Tonic website from June 2000 of the days they spent during that Bosnia tour I thought I would share it with my readers and you Tonic fans. The sad reality is that Fourteen years later the Middle East is still at unrest.

Day 1
7 PM….Dinner at the venue

9 PM….Showtime! The show was great…. these men and women are the best audience ever considering the fact that they’re not allowed to leave the base unless on patrol…and it is a dry base-no alcohol at all. They really made us feel welcome.

11 PM….The deputy mayor of the base presented us with a certificate of appreciation. Then we met with a lot of the soldiers, signed autographs and took many pictures.

1 AM…… Sleep at last!!!

Day 2

8 AM…… Why are we up so early?

9 AM….Breakfast!

11:30 AM…… Flight to Skopje, Macedonia. They have to reroute our flight around Serbia since they will not let us fly in their airspace. The flight takes us over Italy and the Adriatic Sea. A one hour flight now takes three hours….the sites were very beautiful.

2:30 PM…… Arrive Skopje, Macedonia… Wait on the French military installation after the Chanuck helicopter to pick us up to take us to Camp Bondsteel in Kosovo.

3:30 PM…… Helicopter arrives. We find out that the gear had been delayed coming over the border from Germany , so now our helicopter has to sling load the gear in a huge metal compartment. That compartment is then hanging from the bottom of the helicopter as we fly… 16,000 pounds!!!!

3:35 PM…… Flight briefing and Flak jacket and helmet fitting.

3:45 PM….Departure for Bondsteel. As we crossed the border between Macedonia and Kosovo, the escorts put on their Kevlar vests and lock and load their M-50 machine guns.
Emerson gets to ride shotgun next to the pilot and the flight engineer. Jeff rides next to the star board gunner. Dan rides next to the floor opening where there’s a soldier lying down keeping an eye on the cargo below us. Remy looks like he’s going to fall asleep.

4:30 PM….Arrive at camp Bondsteel.

5 PM…… Showers? I don’t think so..Dinner… Again… the food is really good.

6:30 PM…… Major Dillon presents us with coins from the base on behalf of the Brigadier General Sanchez. They even made a concrete star for us and they had us sign!

9 PM… Showtime once again!!!!

11 PM…… After the show we met more soldiers and signed a bunch of autographs. We had to be done by 11:20 so we could get on the chopper back to Skopje, Macedonia.

1120….Board the chopper… Jeff sits shotgun in the cockpit wearing night vision goggles. Emerson sits next to the gunner on the port side of the chopper and Dan sits next to the gunner on the starboard side. Remi has night vision goggles also, sitting in the rear of the chopper next to the open bay door. In flight we saw a house burning with all of the people standing outside watching it burn. Hard to watch.

12 AM…. Arrive Skopje.

12:30 AM….dinner at the Army base.

1:30 AM….Arrive hotel in downtown Skopje … SLEEP!!!!

3:00 AM… Emerson gets awoken by gunfire outside of the hotel. Needless to say, that was frightening!

Day 3

DAY OFF….Dan and some of the crew go into town to see the sights – – – Emerson, Jeff and Remi sleep most of the day – – that night we all go to town for a dinner that was great. The whole place is amazing… It’s weird to think that it was a communist country only nine years ago.

Day 4

10 AM…… Lobby call

11:30 AM…… On the chopper to camp to Montieth. On the flight we saw more destruction and empty houses than on the other flights… It was pretty surreal… Dan sat shotgun, Emerson rides with the gunner again, Remi hides in the middle and Jeff is in the back by the open bay door.

12:15 PM….arrive at camp Monteith. This camp has many more trees and we see locals working on the base, but it is much smaller than the other three camps we visited.

1 PM…… Lunch… Outdoor barbecue… Wow!!!

3 PM….Sound check

5 PM…… Resorting to sitting on the camp bus so we can be in air-conditioning… It’s 105°!!!!

6:30 PM…… Dinner with the crew in the commander of “Big Windy”, the flight crew that is been flying us all over Kosovo in the helicopters. Definitely some of the nicest people we’ve met!!!

8 PM…… Showtime… A lot of the soldiers that were at this particular show where about to leave for home the next day. They had been there for seven months. They were really rowdy and into the show. They were also REALLY ready to go home!!!!

11 PM…..Signing autographs and taking pictures with the soldiers….Are all such great men and women.

12:15 PM….Chopper back to Camp Able Sentry and Macedonia. Jeff gets to sit on the way back of the helicopter dangling his feet off the back. Emerson’s next to the Gunter again, Dan is in the middle and Remi is in the rear. This was the best flight. The pilot really pushed the helicopter to the max… Flew about 35 feet off the tree line. Like a roller coaster ride. Pretty unbelievable.

1:30 AM snack time at the mess hall at Camp Able Sentry.

3 AM….Hotel… Lights out… Sleep!!!

Day 5

Fly to Amsterdam and begin the rest of the European leg of the tour.

This whole trip was such an amazing experience for us. Everyone was so gracious and kind. Playing for the troops was truly amazing and fulfilling. Besides, when do you ever fly in a chopper into a war zone!!!!

Fabulous Fall Front Door Ideas

Fall is here and I am ready for a change to my outdoor decorating, including my front door. Colorful mums and pumpkins, of course. A few winter cabbages tucked here and there. Down comes the lavender and herb wreath and up goes fall brilliance with bright earth colors. My door is ready for her new dress.

Put your hands and mind to use and satisfy your need to create. Here is an easy video that will guide you along the way to your own decorating skills. Don’t know about you, but I am happiest when I am creating or doing something I love.

In just twenty minutes you can make a fall wreath that will make you and everyone who comes through your front door say, ” You made this? Really!”

I usually add more fall leaves and a few fluffy dune grass fluffs that I find easily on the beach. A few small cattails or even to brings in things to come, some holly twigs tucked in between the fall wreath decoration. or small pieces of driftwood, if you are near the shore. It isalways nice to put your own creative stamp on your wreath.

Take a few minutes watch this video and get started this weekend.

video

Skipping Stones

Some people like to window shop. I never was much into just looking into the windows. As far as I’m concerned, except maybe during the holidays with all the animated windows in New York City, the best part is inside the big swinging doors. Each isle, each floor is an exciting adventure. The noise, the aromas and the colors of all the merchandise – that’s part of the pleasure. Why just look at a package unopened? To me window shoppers are missing the best part.

This is true with life as well. Looking through the windows from the outside without experiencing, seeing and tasting all of the richness and excitement it brings. Not just seeing, but looking at the glass half full instead of half empty. Never failures, but challenges instead. Watching the door close behind you and stepping through to something you know will be even better.

It is said in relationships it is common for opposites to attract. My husband and I are living proof of that old adage. I can honestly say we are as different as night and day. I have lived the past 30 years married to a window shopper. His ability to live the fullness and richness of his 88 years has always been elusive to him. He has never been able to open the doors and step through to see the surprises that are inside, beyond those windows.

Until the day they died my husband’s mother and her brother both confessed that they never had a happy day in their lives. They each had the ability to dwell not on happiness, but on one misery after the other.

I have always been fascinated about whether or not we are born with a proclivity toward being happy, or not. In the book The How of Happiness by Sonya Lyubimirsky, the premise of the book is that we all have a setpoint for happiness. To override a low set point, one needs strong self-discipline. My question is, we are all unique individuals, no two of us are alike, so therefore, perhaps one’s happiness is unique unto themselves. Different set-points.

For instance, my husband’s weekend happiness is walking the dogs in the morning from Chelsea through the West Village and home again, stop and buy bagels on the way home and have coffee and bagels at the house.

On the other hand, that same journey that would bring happiness to me would be to walk the dogs from Chelsea to the Village, find a nice little outdoor coffeehouse sit and have coffee and a croissant, enjoy good conversation, watch the people walking by, and then return back to the apartment after exercise and good food and conversation.

My happiness is not peeping through the windows watching other people have a good time, but opening the door and enjoying the life that is inside those doors.

Now just because his happiness and my happiness have two different meanings, does that mean that his is wrong and mine is right, or mine is wrong and his is the right happiness?

My husband skips stones across the water. I jump in with both feet. He stays dry and I am soaking wet.

Together we have cruised the world four times for a total of 456 days. For me it was the joy of soaking in and absorbing the experiences and cultures of the world. For him it was the happiness of 1,368 gourmet meals aboard ship that were prepaid.

Think about it. In reality, if I forced him to always participate in my happiness he would be miserable.

I understand that because until I started to find and own my definition of happiness within the relationship, I felt denied of what I perceived was my deserved happiness.

It’s not all about him and it’s not all about me, it’s about sometimes window shopping and sometimes opening the doors. Sometimes skipping stones and sometimes jumping in with both feet. It’s about one heart with the left ventricle and the right ventricle beating at different times, yet in sync giving life to the whole.

So I guess what I’m saying is I am happy to fill the half empty glass he sees in life.

My New York Story

On October 1, tonight, the 55th annual CLEO Awards will be giving Blondie, the iconic punk band singer a CLEO music honorary award. I couldn’t be happier for her or her band.

My oldest daughter was a big fan of Blondie. The music of Blondie echoed from the walls of her bedroom day and night. It was Brett who introduced the rest of us to most of the rock music of the day. According to her now, Blondie’s lyrics were irreverent sometimes and sometimes simple, but at the same time to her future musical ears these lyrics were to represent key moments in rock ‘n roll history with Deborah as a strong female lead. A female icon who really marched to the beat of her own drummer. Deborah Harry opened doors as the first female rap artist with Blondie’s song, Rapture. Deborah Harry represented for young female fans like my daughter, strength in being true to yourself.

I personally first met Deborah Harry in the early 90’s. It is difficult to believe now, but in those days no one would’ve known who she was. I must have walked behind her casual form with her rolling hips, camouflage kakis and graying blonde hair over 100 times. We both lived in the same iconic building in Chelsea and had dogs that needed potty breaks about the same time each day, or stood in line together for our own needs at Slone’s Grocery around the corner.

Now New York is full of faces, some faces famous. but most incognito as we scurry about the streets like ants going on with their own business. When I am in the city I am usually oblivious to faces as I am one of those ants who is running from here to there just taking care of business. All of these impersonal New York moments become a way of life after awhile without our knowing who is standing next to us, or walking by. So it was not until my son pointed her out to me one day that I knew who the rolling hips and graying hair that I had been passing for the past few years belonged to. Deborah Harry of Blondie.

Deborah still had a rather pretty face, but it was obvious by the way she dressed and looked her young rocker days were behind her and she could’ve cared less about her public image.

My husband finally brought us together for our New York minute when she attended a photo exhibit he had in the lobby of our building that I curated. And It was not long after that meeting that Deborah’s life changed dramatically through rediscovery and renewed interest in her band Blondie. The aging woman that I had been passing on the street for years had turned into a glamorous icon reinventing herself to old fans and a new generation that would again discover the music of Blondie.

Deborah Harry , Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac and the ladies of Abba, Agnetha and Frida, are all inspiring examples that life over 50 can even get better with sweeter rewards that only experience and age can bring.
It is never over until it’s really over.

I am so inspired by these women. Knowing their confident ‘I don’t give a damn attitude’ doesn’t have to just be owned by them, it can be ours too. With every gray hair on our heads we have earned it. We have all earned it!

40 Characters

iPhone addiction. I am so obsessed I sleep with my iPhone next to the bed, I carry it around with me wherever I am in the house. I write with it, I email, text with it, I post on Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter with it. I run the scales and vocalize with it, translate with it. I use my iPhone WordPress app to blog with it, I buy online with it, I panic if I can’t find it. My husband says he can’t remember what I look like without an iPhone in my hand.

Thanks to Facebook, Twitter, Pintrest, Instagram and Tinyurl we are limited to bits of quick information and entertainment and can lazily be moved by someone else’s post and click on the SHARE arrow. Job done. Next. OMG Twitter where we’ve only got 40 characters to get our point across. We are evolving into a world of hick ups. We are en mass Pavlov dogs learning to be abbreviated thinkers.

I have been tech converted. I will never again turn into someone who likes to hear themselves talk. Or think. Or read what they write thinking it’s so profound. That’s why most of my posts are short and to the point. I don’t want to over stay my welcome, bore everyone to death in this LOL world. I have become abbreviated. I am my own tinyurl app.

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