235 My wish for 2020

MY WISH* for 2020 (*a sort of New Year’s Resolution) 

New Year’s Resolutions were always sort of a joke in our family. We were all going to be healthier, wealthier, and wiser. I think that sometimes these ideals would last until then end of January. More vegetables, fewer carbs. Oh, well, I guess our hearts were in the right place.

I do think, dear readers, that after all these years, I have some concerns that are worthy and would do me good to attempt improvement, but I have few passions. 

Miss America was on TV on the 19th of December (Miss Virginia, by the way, won this year). The aims of these young women are the same as they have been since I started watching the show as a teen: world peace, eradicate poverty, hunger, and provide quality education for all. I spent 30 plus years trying to aid in the education part, but I have had no tiara or beaded gown. I may have had a few successes with students. I may never know. Good luck, Miss America!

A librarian I was and am. Retired from being a school librarian, it is now my privilege to work part-time in a superior public library archives--the Stewart Bell, Jr. Archives of the Handley Regional Library. Working here has shown me that I am still passionate about the written word. It must be preserved and I don’t know how to do it! 

As I read/listen to the news each day, I am more and more concerned about the loss of newspapers. The Archives is filled with years (more than 150 years) of news reporting of our regional area. 

Interior workroom at the
Archives–example of
 boxes of written
records and photos 

Researchers depend on these microfilms, discs, and USB sticks of articles – many of them genealogical. And bless the Byrd family for giving to the Archives much of their archival holdings that did not convey to the new owners of The Winchester Star.

Here are some horrible facts for those of us who value local news: over 2000 American newspapers have shut their doors – almost all are local papers in the past decade (247WallSt.com). “More than 200 counties of the 3,143 counties in the United States [are] without any paper” (usnewsdeserts.com/reports). 

In many of these rural or suburban communities, the only reliable source of news and information was the local daily or weekly paper. The same article goes on to report that about “60% of these rural residents lack affordable high-speed access to wireless service” that would allow quick, efficient news.

Since before the United States became the United States, local news broadsheets kept communities informed and engaged. They held the popular and powerful to some account. The loss of local journalism is straining the fabric of our society. (Sorry, if I am “preaching to the choir.”)

Without local news reporting, elections become more about who has more money than about the issues. The public cannot be engaged in what is happening if not for news stories: e.g. how the town council voted on an issue (were the citizens even aware there was an issue?); a proposed tax increase; a new housing development; calendars of local events; sports; and, of course, the births, deaths, and marriages. 

The Columbia Journalism Review (accessed 12/26/19) reported, “a full 38 percent of Americans do not often access any local news at all.” How very, very sad, and how very, very scary.

I saved an article from the New York Times, Sunday, December 22, 2019, National News section, p. 29. It is titled “When a Newspaper Folds: A Community Does Not Know Itself.” Reporter Lara Takenaga amassed readers’ letters about their closed papers. In her introduction, she noted that not only do the readers no longer know what’s happening in their communities, but that the number of journalists in the country has been cut in half. IN HALF! 

We may remember from school days that journalism was the “Fourth Estate.” The first three were the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners. It was this fourth estate that kept everyone alert to what was happening in their milieu. Now apparently there is a FIFTH ESTATE. It is defined by Wikipedia as outlier journalists and bloggers who publish and have found a following on social media. Thank you, but I do not want my news from Twitter and Facebook. 

Please notice, too, the change in the many corner newsstands in NYC. The written word takes up little space any more. I admit to loving the trashy gossip on Page Six of the New York Post! I may have to subscribe….

So, readers, my resolution, with attached wish, is to research what can be done or is being done to help save true, investigative journalism by reliable people for community readers. If anyone has any ideas in- or out-of-the-box, maybe together we can find something. I hope so.

Happy, healthy 2020 to all!!

Savvy Glenne           

234 A simple question

A simple question 

During a recent visit to our home, our 8-year-old grandson asked us a simple question--are you lonely?

I guess the size of the house for two people may have prompted his question. We are still in the house where we raised his dad and aunt (our two children).

My immediate response was no. But on further reflection, I had to clarify my response and how my husband and I really feel.

We are not lonely in the true sense of the word. We have adjusted to a different life than we had when our house was full with our children and their friends who would visit often. We lived near the high school so our house was a gathering place. There was never a dull moment or a quiet time. Even college days brought house guests that we welcomed with open arms. 

Their absence conjures up memories and experiences we will never forget especially since we have remained in the same house. We certainly miss those days, but it has been a natural progression.

Both of our children have their own children and homes full of love and life. That is the way it is supposed to be. We are grateful for that and wish them all the love and fulfillment they can achieve. 

Of course, we miss them and think lovingly of those days gone by, but we would never want them to not progress on their own. We have always encouraged and promoted independence and self-reliance.

That doesn’t mean we aren’t there to celebrate every milestone of theirs and their children and help and assist in any way we can. Trips are taken monthly to visit those that live a state away and short local trips are on the calendar to help with pickups and deliveries. We relish every moment we can give to them and never respond negatively when asked to help

And we always appreciate any text or phone call to keep in touch and hear their dear, sweet voices.

So back to the question--are we lonely? I would say no but with the caveat I have explained. We miss those days and would not trade any of it. We are so grateful for their lives and hopeful for their futures. 

Sometimes it is jarring to think how fast we got to this stage of our lives. We implore all of you to enjoy and savor every moment you have together. 

So, during this holiday season, the three of us who share our blogs weekly with all of you offer to everyone sincere greetings for meaningful, happy holidays however celebrated.

Frances          

233 We're having a retirement!

We’re Having a Retirement!

By Teri S. Merrill 

“I think I may want to do something environmental, like take a master naturalist class,” my husband told me the other day. 

I nodded my head in agreement, but if a thought bubble could be seen over my head, it would read: “How does my Type A husband switch from being a full-time professional to watching butterflies?”

We were discussing what type of activities he may want to explore following retirement. And until that moment, I had never considered how much retirement planning feels strangely similar to the months before the birth of a first child. Now, however, we are simply pregnant with possibility about what comes next. And just like the pregnant couple we were almost three decades ago, we have more than a little trepidation.

His retirement has been announced, his successor is being sought, and in the meantime, we wait, talk, plan and wonder. People now stop us at community events or in the grocery line, congratulating us and asking when the big event will happen. 

We get excited about the trips we may take, the friends we can finally spend quality time with, the new things he will learn, and the flexibility we will have. But most of the time, I’m left thinking to myself: Is this really going to work?

That’s because his career in health administration has been a dominant force in our lives. Even today, my husband still works most weekends, is fully engaged in his demanding job, takes great satisfaction from his efforts, and sacrifices time with family and friends to get the job done. 

The prospect of my husband going from full throttle to no throttle is a bit like going from a full house to an empty house. The quiet of his career will be deafening at first, just like the cries of our newborn daughter. But eventually, we’ve been told, the cacophony of silence will be welcomed.

My husband takes comfort in those who tell him they miss the people, but not the pressure of work. Multiple retired friends and acquaintances have shared that Sunday afternoons are so much sweeter, and Monday mornings are now just another day of the week.

We are also doing a lot of reading, but instead of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” we’re devouring articles about “Living Your Best Retired Self,” or “Retiring with Meaning,” or “Best Volunteer Jobs for Retirees.”

We’ve announced the big news to our families, friends, and coworkers. The date is unknown but drawing ever closer. We are making lists and cleaning out closets. We are doing our due diligence and trying to prepare. All that needs to happen now is the actual event. 

Just like new parents in waiting, we are excited, nervous, and ready to jump into this new, unknown world ahead of us. And just in case…I’ve already planted milkweed to draw in the butterflies. 

Teri                  

232 Travels with Tootsie

Travels with Tootsie

We have been taking road trips with Tootsie since she was six months old and it is always an adventure.

When we first started taking her along, she was in her cage in the back seat. Now the princess sits on my lap in the back seat while hubby drives all by himself in the front seat.

There is so much you must remember to bring--her pillow, her bed, her towel, her yummies, her food, her water. She has her own bag for all her necessities with her own packing list to make sure nothing is forgotten. 

We have learned not to bring out her toys in the motel room, however, since she then wants to bark and play. We do however bring a white noise machine to block out noise from the hall and to be a reassurance since it is the same sound she sleeps to at home.

Dog-Friendly has a different definition for each motel. We particularly like La Quinta because it is usually pretty nice and does not charge for dogs. But individual motels can differ from the party line. We stayed at one La Quinta where we had to sign a paper promising not to let the dog up on the bed--Sure, Right! It is hard to sleep with the dog if it is not allowed on the bed! Other motels advertise that they are dog-friendly but can charge up to $50 per pet!

Somehow hubby is always willing to stop to give Tootsie a break. I used to have to beg for a stop! Tootsie is always afraid she is going to be left in the car so she begins screaming as soon as the car slows down. We get very strange looks at rest stops!

Getting into the car with her can also be difficult because she wants to be on my lap even before I can sit down. It is an interesting maneuver to get in and then get both my and Tootsie's seatbelts attached.

The best clothes to wear light-colored cotton--nothing black or polyester because of all the white hair one little dog can shed!

In warm weather, there is no going into restaurants and leaving the dog in the car. We pack lunches and eat as we drive.

We have favorite walks with Tootsie in all the cities we regularly visit for Civil War shows. We enjoy walking in a nice old neighborhood in Richmond, the Battery in Charleston, and an old train track that has been turned into a walking path in Mansfield, Ohio. The walks also help with getting a good night's sleep in motels.

Travels with Tootsie are usually fun but rainy days are my least favorite. Wet dogs do have a distinct odor! 

But she always goes along!

                         Trish

231 Ready for December?

Are You Ready for December? 

Oh, my, dear readers, I am so NOT ready for it to be December yet. My “to-do” list is so long that it is now the “should-have-gotten-done” list. And, as the Christmas holiday season approaches, said list will get longer and longer. Thanksgiving is over. 

Black Friday was ignored by almost all of the family--we do it online!! Getting up EARLY is/was never a preferred option in our respective group--particularly not to find parking, to fight crowds, AND have one’s brain functioning to know what stores had what. By the way, the kitchen floor by the fireplace still has a pile of Black Friday ads that I would bet are at least a tree limb wasted. 

Thanksgiving is the time, I believe, when we are supposed to count our blessings and get along with one another. 

That means--in our families--politics is off-limits, sexual orientation is off-limits, and religion is “iffy.” 

Traditionally, we go around the table and say one thing for which we are thankful. Sometimes the responses are not what one hopes: “Thank goodness there is enough gravy this year” or “I am thankful no one brought sauerkraut.” Sometimes there ARE lovely sentiments, though. Ah, such are the memories we share. 

But to get to the real point of my blog this week is that I don’t think our citizens take the meaning of Thanksgiving --nor that of Christmas--in the spirit in which they were meant. We are less serious as a family than when I was little. No more early morning church on Thanksgiving Day. The Christmas midnight service for the past few years is dependent on the weather and how prepared we are for the next morning.

Holiday meanings have deteriorated, almost completely lost under a cloud of media hype, sales pitches, marketing, and commercialism. I see nothing in the news (print/radio/social media)--absolutely nothing--that says we are better off for having celebrated a fabulous and/or fabulously fattening dinner and watching lots of TV (generally football and more football) with family, friends, and loved ones. Nor has Black Friday helped me in any way! And have you seen the price for a live seven-foot fir tree? www.MarketWatch.com says $80-100! Gracious! I am glad The Nutcracker ballet is still a tradition!

Here are a couple of the occurrences that have made me even more discouraged for our country and our communities. You will notice they are very different, but each touched off a kind of sad rage in me.

A year or so ago, I wrote about school dress codes and how I felt they were unfair to girls. On www.mediaflare this week, in an article by staffer Jordan Donohue, the report was that a teenage girl had been removed from her class by a male administrator (interrupting the class, no less) who said her rip in one knee of her jeans was disrupting the

class and she was to be suspended. 

ONE RIP, ONE KNEE CAP--which did not entirely show! I find this to be sexism, victim blaming, and shaming. The administrator told the irate parents that the rip in the jeans could “cause boys (sic) hormones to react in a negative way and would disturb their education.” WHAT! Jeez! I, who think school uniforms may be a societal leveler in schools, am outraged by this. Here are the jeans in question: NOT FAIR! NOT FAIR! 

Then the following information really made an impact on my vague memories of all of the random gun violence stories. I have adapted it from a Washington Post article, "The Terrible Numbers that Grow….," November 18, 2019, by Bonnie Berkowitz, et al. Is no one safe? Anywhere? Ever? The places change, the numbers change, but the choice of weapon remains the same. In the United States, people who want to kill a lot of other people most often do it with guns. Public mass shootings account for a tiny fraction of the country’s gun deaths, but they are “uniquely terrifying because they occur without warning in the most mundane places.” Most of the victims are chosen not for what they have done but simply for where they happen to be. 

Berkowitz continues: “There is no universally accepted definition of a public mass shooting, and this piece defines it narrowly. It looks at the 170 shootings in which four or more people were killed by a lone shooter (two shooters in a few cases). It does not include shootings tied to robberies that went awry, and it does not include domestic shootings that took place exclusively in private homes. A broader definition would yield much higher numbers.” 

Okay, elected officials – we need gun laws and we need them now! One company is called www.cheaperthandirt.com (does that say something in itself?) and then I found this photo of a Miss Kitty gun. MISS KITTY?

WHAT! The price run from $500 to $1000 and up according to Google. Also, please note that everything I read about the AR-15 says it is called a DEFENSIVE weapon and not an ASSAULT rifle. How, pray tell, does AR translate to “defensive?” I find this very SCARY! VERY SCARY! 

Where is grace and peace and understanding? I need to cheer up! We are relatively healthy (considering age, etc.), we have a nice home and great friends. But I want more for the world we will leave to future generations. 

Maybe the fact that I love winter and snow will help. The cold temperatures give me a feeling of a cleansed earth, of time for reflection, and a period of silence. (Question: where does sound go when there is silence?) To me, there is nothing more lovely than a winter sky with twinkling stars or fresh snow when your footprints are the first ones to leave their mark in white purity. I think I just need some snow and SOON (and maybe even in NYC!)

Merry Everything &

A Happy Always!

Glenne