Pandemic Gray by Debbie Leaman

I sat in the salon chair, face mask in place, and looked in the mirror. My first haircut in over three months and the gray stripe of my one-inch roots glared against the thicket of my limp brown curls. Not quite the bride of Frankenstein, but close enough for discomfort.

“I’m embracing the gray,” I told Seth, my stylist. I felt a twinge of apprehension.

“Many women are making the choice to go gray now,” he said, reassuring me. Every time I’ve mentioned my plan to my friends and family, I’ve felt bold, defiant, followed by, seriously, what the hell am I thinking?

It's Never Too Late to Learn How to Swim by Chris Colin, The New York Times

I love this article! Chris Colin of The New York Times interviewed a woman, who at 68, learned to swim and now, four years later, is a daily lap swimmer. This is a great reminder for any of us who tell ourselves that we’re too old to try something new. Is there something you’ve been putting off because fear gets in the way? Is there a new sport or hobby you’ve been drawn to but you think it’s too late to try? Read this interview for some inspiration . . .

Jeff by Becky Anderson

A lovely tribute to a beloved cousin as shared in the latest Writing Through Grief workshop . . .

Yesterday I lost my cousin Jeff. He was only 57. He left behind no one but my dad, a couple of my siblings and myself. There will be no fanfare, no obituary, funeral or flowers. But there will be memories of how his life intertwined with mine.

He and I were born a mere 26 days apart and he was my only cousin remotely close to my age. Given away by his birth parents then given up on by his adoptive parents he was tossed into the system and eventually ended up on the streets, before he could even shave. My parents tried to get custody when he was 14 but were denied.

A Future in Images by Debbie Leaman

The final assignment for a recent class on “aging” I attended, was to use our preferred medium (photography, writing, painting, poetry, etc.) to answer this not-so-simple question: “What does this next chapter in your life look like?” For me, the question is loaded. Turning 63 this year, I will be the same age that my oldest brother was when he died in a bicycle accident six years ago. I’m entering that period of time when my mother, in her early to mid-60s, started repeating herself.

This past pandemic year, worrying about the next chapter was the farthest thing from my mind. I wasn’t sure I’d live to see the daffodils bloom. But now that I’m vaccinated and know I won’t die of Covid 19, I can go back to envisioning a healthy future beyond my 60s. For the assignment, maybe I should make a collage instead of writing an essay. That would be so much easier than laying bare the fears that lurk in my mind.

46th Anniversary and Hoping for One More by Caren Beeman

I was deep asleep when a loud bang woke me, the bed shaking from the impact. I sat up and groggily, called out, “was that an earthquake?!” More awake, more alert I answered myself, “No, we’re in Kauai.” I turned towards my husband, expecting to see him sitting up but he was sound asleep. That is, until the second blow to our mattress. I had watched my husband kick his leg up, as if kicking a soccer ball, and then slamming it down on the mattress. This goalie kick woke him.

He sat up. “What the hell was that?”

“You…” Before I could finish, he got out of bed, mumbled, “restless legs,” and left the bedroom.

The Trick to Life is to Keep Moving, by Devi Lockwood, The New York Times

I’m a pack rat when it comes to articles and essays that are interesting to me and relevant to what I teach. I wanted to post something uplifting, not about the pandemic, anxiety or grief. The other day I came across “The Trick to Life is to Keep Moving” which I’d saved from 2019. When I re-read the piece I remembered why I saved this. It’s a wonderful piece about “seeking friends beyond the generational divide.”

Snowshoeing Adventure? by Caren Beeman

Down in our basement we have storage compartments for each member of our family. If you looked in my son Michael’s compartment, you would find climbing gear, camping gear for long backpacking trips, ski equipment and maybe even a plastic kayak which barely fit. My husband’s closet would look similar, except for the kayak. Instead, you’d also find snow shoes and poles. My husband preferred wood kayaks that he made and kept hung up on our garden wall. My daughter had gotten married and emptied her storage unit. So, I converted that unit into a wine cellar. That’s my space.

I also have another storage area by the furnace. In there you will find crutches for when I broke my knee walking the dog, (I tripped) and my walker for when I broke a hip playing golf. You ask, “how does one break a hip playing golf?”

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The Joys of Vaccinating by Howard Leaman

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It’s been a year since pandemic isolation started, causing the end of last ski season. Skiing and teaching skiing have always been a joy and my passion, but this year has felt different. Added to the increasing traffic were long lift lines, skiing in masks (and goggle fog), limited inside warm-up opportunities, and much more hassle.

Hours spent in Little Cottonwood Canyon traffic has offered plenty of time to reflect and push the “pause” button. “Am I part of the problem?”

After Surviving the Depression, the Blitz and the Nazis, Writers Reflect on the Pandemic, by Amanda Holpuch

With the average age of 87, these writers recount other trying times and how they’ve gained perspective and resilience. Amanda Holpuch of The Guardian offers up their stories and how they are adapting to pandemic life and connecting on Zoom. A shout-out to Jill Meyer for sending me this uplifting article!

“Late at night, Peggy Strait sits at her computer and thinks about the dangers of living in New York city during a pandemic.

Then she remembers her life in 1937.

Making the Case for Acceptable Memory Loss by Michele Straube

Our memories fade, sometimes because we’re aging and sometimes because it’s better that way. The painful memories of childbirth and the sleep deprivation of the first few weeks/months of parenthood fade, else no-one would ever have a second (or third or fourth) child. Similarly, I now know from personal experience, the memories of parenting a new puppy fade.

So Long 2020 by Debbie Leaman

As I sat down to write a year-end wrap up, it was hard to get the words out. I wanted to write about gratitude but really, what did I want to say about a year that brought us a global pandemic, exposed the divisiveness and disparity in our country, and revealed the fragility of our democracy? Not to mention devastating wildfires, hurricanes, and an earthquake in Salt Lake City. As I started to write the “silver linings” of this awful year, what came out sounded cloying to me. While genuine (I am truly grateful for Howard, my kids, my family and friends . . . and wine), my words rambled on the page and felt hollow. Frustrated, I did what I normally do: procrastinate. Scrolling the internet, I read, “How to Make Freezer Friendly Breakfast Sandwiches” and “A Century After Phony Flu Ads, Companies Hype Dubious Covid Cures.” Then I found, “One Sentence That Will Make You a More Effective Speaker.” Last article, I told myself. Enough procrastinating. I’m glad I continued to read.

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Writing Prompt - Feeling Anxious? Do a Worry Purge!

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I don’t know about you, but I’m wrung out with pandemic fear and fatigue, terrified about the election, saturated with the news, and dread the shorter days and the impending cold. There is way too much to worry about these days. Having said that, I still fight the urge to doom scroll in spite of my better instincts. All of this worry just creates more anxiety which ends up as ruminating thoughts and questions swirling around in my head. What’s the future of our democracy? How do I stay safe and keep my family safe? What’s this winter going to look like?

"What if . . . " A Writing Response by Bob Bader

In an online writing class this summer, I’d given the following writing prompt, “What if . . . .” Participants had 10 minutes to write whatever came to mind. Here is Bob Bader’s response:

What if I were never born? The sun would still rise and set each day. The birds would still sing and the bees buzz. Flowers would still grow tall and give off sweet fragrances. Girls would still dance and boys, oh boys, would still be a pain to girls. That is, until the boys were older then the pain would be of a much different kind intermingled with sweet love.

Beneath the Sweater and the Skin by Jeanette Encinias

My dear friend, Jane, passed along this beautiful poem on aging which she found on Facebook. It’s written by Jeanette Encinias, a poet and book editor. It’s hard to believe that Jane and I met over forty years ago as awkward sophomores at college fraternity party . . . we’ve been friends, aging together, ever since.

Beneath the Sweater and the Skin

How many years of beauty do I have left?

she asks me.

How many more do you want?

Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.

How Journaling Can Help You in Hard Times By Kira M. Newman, Greater Good Magazine

If any of you have taken my classes, you know that I’m a huge fan of keeping a journal. Especially now, when there is so much unknown in the world, writing can help us sort through our thoughts and feelings. Writing allows us to unload all of the muck swirling around in our heads and transfer that onto the page. There are numerous benefits from this.

“In the past 30 years, hundreds of studies have uncovered the benefits of putting pen to paper with your deepest thoughts and feelings,” writes Kira M. Newman in Greater Good Magazine.