Posted by: Laura Carter | December 10, 2019

Aging: forgetting to remember

I’ve noticed the older I get, the more I have forgotten. I also think I misremember a good deal. Merriam Webster defines misremembering as “to remember incorrectly.” I think you’ll agree this seems a ubiquitous trait for any of us who have the opportunity to live into ‘old age.’

Last week, my brother, sister and I went on a road trip to attend the funeral service of our last aunt, our mother’s only sibling. It closed the door on that entire generation of our family from both sides. People we loved and grew up with. None of us cousins from either side are particularly close. And, some of us have already reached, or are nearing, whatever our expiration dates are.

The many conversations we had unearthed precious memories of our childhood into adulthood when our grandparents and parents were still with us. We commiserated the loss of them and held dear the love and the amazing upbringing they gave us. Each of us had different perspectives, but common memory roots.

As I age, I am apprehensive of loosing all the parts of me. It’s important to be able to share with friends and/or families those significant memories which shaped us and now hold us together.

Now, if I can just remember why I came in the kitchen.

Posted by: Laura Carter | October 6, 2019

You can’t take it with you


Lately, I’ve been reading articles about why and how to simplify your life.  Simply Magazine is one of the sources I was introduced to by a friend. “Even better, removing the physical clutter from our home lays a foundation that makes significant life changes possible. It encourages us to question assumptions and invites thoughtful consideration of all aspects of our lives.”  There’s also Becoming a Minimalist which states “Becoming Minimalist is designed to inspire others to pursue their greatest passions by owning fewer possessions.”

Because y’all know you or your parents have so much stuff that nobody wants I once wrote this vignette.

I always knew my son and his family would have no use for my precious mementos after I am gone. Bric-a-brac, knick-knacks, stuff! The furniture I inherited from my grandparents–a phone table with a little seat for comfortable chatting, the antique mantle. The beautiful set of china on which my mother served holiday dinners that shaped generations of family gatherings. I cherished these and many other family pieces passed down to me. But, who wants a framed, handmade baby christening gown?

My books are all going for a dollar. People are rummaging through my clothes, handbags and jewelry. A bowl full of sea shells or a scorched set of kitchen pans–not treasures for sure. The estate sellers are doing their job of clearing the house for sale. But, there’s no one there to tell the stories.

Many times I tried to tell the story behind the porcelain figurines. The ones in the glass cabinet that I stared at my whole life. My parents bought those beautiful little ballerinas, with their tutus of Dresden lace, in 1947 from a German family who had to sell their precious keepsakes to feed themselves.

But, how could that matter now? Surely someone will see their value and give them a good home, where they can be admired everyday as the beautiful works of art they are. After the good things go, it looks like the sad remnants of an inconsequential life. I hover over this scene, on my last pass through this world, the memories fade along with the disbursement of my possessions. And, now I surely know the truth of ‘you can’t take it with you.’

Posted by: Laura Carter | September 29, 2019

What stuff are dreams made of?

Today I began reading Patti Smith’s Year of the Monkey. I’m not sure I (a mere mortal) could do her writing any justice by trying to describe it’s lyrical beauty. But, the way it makes my mind wander is a good thing. The Year of the Monkey begins as Smith is spending a few days at the Dream Inn down by the ocean side in Santa Cruz, California where she dreams of many things.

I’ve always been a vivid dreamer. Since I was a small child I remember having dreams almost every night. I have good dreams, bad dreams, scary dreams, sex dreams and just plain weird dreams. Some I remember and some I only remember the feeling it left me with.

I used to have dreams that came true. Like when I dreamed one of my best friends was enjoying lovemaking that would result in a child. About a month later, she told me she was pregnant. Or, when I dreamed that I would find that desk I was looking for and I did. OK, maybe you don’t believe in that. Anyway, I still have ‘problem solving’ or inspirational dreams on occasion. I some times dream of deceased family or friends and wake up crying. I imagine those kind of dreams are fairly common. The night after my mother died, she came to me and said “tell your brother he doesn’t really have to cut his hair to come to my funeral.”

I was also reminded last week by my grandson Justin of some of my ‘out there’ dreams.  He mentioned on Facebook about he had been dreaming about living on a Mars colony. I’ve been in outer space in my dreams many times. One I specifically remember looking up and seeing two moons in a brilliant sky and running through a field of strange high grass.

I can’t imagine how people who have experienced real tragedies in their lives handle the awful dreams they must have.

If you are interested in scientific explanations

More from Psychology Today

This one is fun if you want to interpret your dreams

I personally prefer just to enjoy my dreams–even the scary ones after I calm down  I’m grateful for them as they make every night an adventure.

 

Posted by: Laura Carter | August 20, 2019

First Love

Let me tell you about George Smith. This innocuously named young man was my first true love.  We had beginning that could have been in a romance movie screenplay. I was a freshman at Southwest Texas State University, San Marcos in 1965, living in a dorm directly across from the student union. Many of the 500 students were from rural or smaller towns all over the State. The girls came to earn a teaching or nursing degree. Most of the dudes were ‘shit-kickers’ studying agriculture. There were some theater people and a few others, like me, studying sociology, the sciences or liberal arts.

During the first week of class, I was sitting in the student union with a group of girls when someone handed me a folded note. It read “Can you meet me tomorrow at 4pm by Old Main?” I looked up to see who might have passed that note to me. I locked eyes with a most appealing young man. He had shaggy brown hair, a mustache and goatee, and was dressed beatnik-like with a tan corduroy jacket and ‘desert boots’. Love at first sight! He was out of character with 99% of the student body at good ole SWTSU and that intrigued me.

We met the next afternoon and for many afternoons and evenings after that. George told me I was intelligent and set about giving me ‘lessons’ on the world’s best books to read, science and political theories, music, movies… We drank coffee in the evenings at the truck stop where we talked until I had to be back in the dorm at 9pm. He took me to Austin to meet his SDS (Students for a Democratic Society) friends and for a weekend at his grandparents abandoned farm house. I was mesmerized and in love.

I spent the summer break reading Kafka, Camus, Dostoevsky, and letters of love and devotion from George. When the next college year finally began, George met me to say he was not returning. He had met someone in Austin. He asked me to marry him and have children hinting that if I didn’t, he would with this girl.  I never regretted saying ‘no.’ After all, hadn’t he told me I should learn and experience everything I could?

I believe your first true love is your best love. I’ll never forget him though we lost touch, or the way he encouraged me to think and explore my capabilities. That was not a thing women got from men back then. I’m sure my life has been much richer because of his influence.

Posted by: Laura Carter | July 28, 2019

Sacred Space

meditation, stones, pond,prayerHey y’all, it’s Sunday and time for a little reflection regarding sacred space.

A sacred place is, first of all, a defined place, a space distinguished from other spaces… A sacred place focuses attention on the forms, objects, and actions in it and reveals them as bearers of religious meaning. Encyclopedia.com

Sacred space is any space or area that has been dedicated to a sacred (holy) purpose. An emphasis on sacred space is found in all of the world’s religions and traditions and they all have places set aside as holy, that they use for worship, prayer, and important rituals. The School of Magical Living

Many of the definitions I found on the internet tie sacred space to a specific religious meaning or place. But I like to think it’s simpler than that. A physical sacred place may allow you to reach the ethereal sacred inside yourself.  It’s not necessary to be associated with any religious ritual. It’s just spiritual in and of itself.

When I think of sacred space, I think of experiencing moments where the world seems to stand still and the cosmos aligns itself in perfect harmony.  These experiences might last for a few seconds or several minutes.  But, before the gears of chaos engage again, I always have the overwhelming feeling “Woo-hoo, life is good!”

aiea heightsWhen I was in my early teens, we lived in a house located next to a state park on top of Aiea Heights, Oahu, Hawaii.  I would hike by myself up the trail to sit on a patch of green grass beneath a big evergreen tree that overlooked Pearl Harbor and the ‘Punchbowl’ Cemetery. Even at a young age, I knew this place was a conduit to the spiritual. The view alone is enough for anyone to appreciate their innermost sacredness.

In my twenties, music was the vehicle for many a trip. I’ll never forget the time I was laying on the floor listening to Emerson, Lake and Palmer through headphones. I’m sure I was transporting somewhere groovy until I opened my eyes at the end of side one and there were two Doberman Pinchers staring me in the face.

 

As an adult, I enjoy sitting by the pool. Watching the clouds drift by, listening to the birds, I feel my body and soul warming, the tension washing away, and I experience “the eternal happiness of the spotless mind.”

Oh, I could go on, but I encourage you to find your own path to a sacred space whether it is physical or metaphysical.

Posted by: Laura Carter | July 23, 2019

Waiting with Strangers

The older you get the more time you spend in doctors’ offices. Plus, because I volunteer for an organization that facilitates rides to medical appointments for seniors who cannot drive, I am sometimes left sitting in doctors’ offices for long periods of time.

Most waiting rooms are solemn places with ailing strangers crowded together at a sort of sad party that no one wanted to get invited to, but here we are.

There used to be loud television news or game shows to keep everyone occupied or annoyed. In the past several years, I noticed there were more of the ‘made for the doctor office’ healthy living themed programs. Still…

Today I took a client to a busy orthopedic physician’s office. No TV at all—yay! The room seemed the very ideal of diversity with patients, and those accompanying them, spanning a variety of ages and ethnicities. I wasn’t checking genders.

Instead of the usual stoic silence of strangers, everyone in the office was engaging with their neighbors. “What surgery did you have and how did it go?” “I like your fancy walker.” “Where did you get your hair done?” “What are you reading, is that an e-book?” I swear I’ve never heard such friendly conversations before in a waiting room.  And, the whole room turned over at least once while I was waiting, but the conversation mode stayed lit.

I found this delightful in lieu of all the divisive and unfriendly banter in the news and on social media. No one was telling anyone to go back to from whence they came, arguing politics or evangelizing—my own personal pet peeve.

While I was waiting for the client to finish her appointment, I had a good conversation with a gentleman, with painful knees, talking about the new opioid rules and regs that have put some folks at a disadvantage.  I shared with him the phone number of a nonprofit that could maybe hook him up with a ride instead of the usual city van service that took so long to pick him up when he is ready to go home.

It was all reaffirming somehow—that humans can really still be nice to each other. It gave me hope.

I still hate waiting though, nothing can cure that.

In San Antonio, you can volunteer with Northeast Senior Assistance (NESA) 

Posted by: Laura Carter | June 15, 2019

The Future looks a lot like now

I recently rediscovered the amazingly good science fiction novels by Jack McDevitt. I’d read a number of his books published in 2000-2012. His stories specifically interested me because they were action loaded, pithy, and plausible–in a sci-fi kind of way. The Priscilla Hutchins series starred a strong female character, which I like as well. space

Now as I re-read them in order, I see that almost 20 years ago he was telling the far-away future, with insights that are still quite relevant today. The following are some quotes that made me think he could have written these stories last week.

“There’d been studies over the years supporting the proposition that groups composed exclusively of women usually made intelligent decisions, that exclusively male groups did a bit less well, and that mixed groups did most poorly of all, by a substantial margin. It appeared that, when women were present, testosterone got the upper hand and men took greater risks than they might otherwise. Correspondingly, women in the mixed group tended to revert to roles, becoming more passive, and going along with whatever misjudgment the males might perpetrate.” Chindi (The Academy series (Priscilla Hutchins) Book 3) by Jack McDevitt

“There is, he’d said, an inverse correlation between the amount of power a person has and the level at which his or her mind functions. A person of ordinary intelligence who acquires power, of whatever kind, tends to develop an exaggerated view of his own capabilities. Sycophants gather. There is little or no criticism of decisions. As his ability to disrupt the lives of others advances, these tendencies become stronger. Eventually you end with Louis the Fourteenth, who thinks he’s done a good job for France, although the country he left behind was ruined.” Infinity Beach by Jack McDevitt

https___cdn.pixabay.com_photo_2018_08_29_04_20_planets-3639154_960_720“Freedom and idiots make a volatile mix. And the sad truth is that the idiocy quotient in the general population is alarmingly high.”

“It is not faith per se that creates the problem; it is conviction, the notion that one cannot be wrong, that opposing views are necessarily invalid and may even be intolerable.”  both attributed to Gregory MacAllister, “Downhill All the Way” in the book Odyssey (The Academy series(Priscilla Hutchins) novel Book 5) by Jack McDevitt

Posted by: Laura Carter | June 10, 2019

Advice in Four Words or Less

Today’s blog is a total Twitter rip-off. Thanks to Giles Paley-Phillips @eliistender10 for asking the question: Your best advice in four words or less.

This a fraction of the replies, but worthy of sharing.

Walter Shaub
@waltshaub
do the right thing
Art Thiel
@Art_Thiel

1. Don’t sweat petty things.
2. Don’t pet sweaty things. (h/t George Carlin)

Rogue EPA
@RogueEPAstaff
Don’t vote Republican 2020.

Patrick Leiser
@leiser_patrick
Even better: Don’t vote Republican ever

Rachel Wolfson
@wolfiecomedy
smoke weed every day

Cliff Jerrison
@pervocracy
Condoms, sunscreen, vaccines, seatbelts.
Posted by: Laura Carter | June 3, 2019

Vulture Zoo Ball

We went to the Zoo today and all I got were these pictures of vultures. Seriously they were hanging out in almost all the exhibits.

It was downright creepy.

Posted by: Laura Carter | April 29, 2019

Tall girl tells shrinking tale

So, I measured my height the other day. I have to say it was a shocking and somewhat depressing revelation to find out I am now just 5’7” tall. Although most of us upon reaching the senior citizen stage of life, understand that we shrink in height as we age and our vertebrae compress, sometimes getting squeezed out altogether. But, in a way it made me feel somewhat diminished.

Why did I take it so hard, you ask? At the age of 14, I was a 5’10” gangly girl. Quite outstanding at that time, I was head and shoulders above, not only the other girls but most of the boys as well. Try finding a dance partner when the dudes would be staring right into your budding bosom. Skinny legs and all, I was mostly in angst over this tall development.

Some of the most frequent questions: “Do you play basketball?”  Well, no. You kind of have to be coordinated to do that. Did I wear high heel shoes ever? Uh, no! Did pantyhose ever fit me?  No again.

At 20years old attending college in San Marcos, TX

I managed to grow into being a tall woman and tallness became less an issue making way for many other issues. In fact, I am sorry to lose that youthful part of me. And, I’m sure those three damn inches went into my hips.

Older Posts »

Categories