New Year’s Eve with loved ones, friends and the Beasties. I’m the old lady everyone is sitting on.
On Hold for What Seens Like Forever
A recent New York Times headline had me nodding my head in agreement. “A Nation on Hold Wants to Speak to a Manager,” it said, then went on to talk about how people are losing it, and not just after spending endless hours waiting to talk to a real person on the phone.
And not just screaming about it – as I did a couple of days ago when I couldn’t stand one more minute of the annoying music that was playing while I was waiting to cancel a wellness appointment with my doctor. I felt fine and didn’t want to risk getting Covid from a crowded waiting room.
People are getting abusive when the grocery store is out of their favorite cheese, airline passengers are becoming violent, and road rage abuse and resulting deaths are no longer a rare headline.
Now, I’m not a patient person. In fact, before I took up bird watching 23 years ago, I kind of felt patience was an excuse for couch sitters. Age, of course, has taught me better.
But for the first time in my life, I’m entering a new year with not much hope that it’s going to get better. That’s hard for me to say because I still do believe every bad thing that happens is followed by a silver lining. You don’t get the job you wanted but you end up in a better position. You move to a place where you know no one, but it forces you to better stand on your own feet and you eventually make new friends.
But patience is required before those things happen.
I don’t know about you, but this coming year, I am going to just live each day trying to fully enjoy mundane little things, like the laughter that flowed through me this morning when I walked my canine companion, Scamp.
We met up with Rhonda, who was walking her dog, Buddy. The two dogs immediately greeted each other doggie style – by sniffing butts. Then they both peed on the same tree.
“We have our e-mails, and dogs have their pee-mails,” she laughingly said.
Perhaps laughter will help me get through this coming year. I sure hope so.
Happy New Year.
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
I’ve discovered with age that about the only regrets I have are the things I haven’t done. Thankfully that’s not too many, so I’ll just try to age as gracefully as I can.
Not a Pretty Sight
I’ve never been one to spend much time looking in a mirror, usually just for getting my night-tangled hair in some semblance of order and brushing my teeth. Except for hating my freckles when I was a young teenager and using thick makeup to hide them for a couple of years, I’ve pretty much always gone with the natural look.
I gave up mascara in my 40s because it irritated my eyes, have never thought I looked good in lipstick, and stuck with a simple base with sunscreen and a little blush as my only makeup. Well, if you want to be technical, I did color my hair for over 50 years.
When young, I had pale blonde hair, but it darkened to dishwater blonde after I had kids. Too my delight, I discovered Clairol’s Nice and Easy No. 99 returned it to its original color. But then, about six years ago, I let it go natural. Today it’s pale gray and turning whiter each year – and getting thinner each year, too.
This morning when I looked in the mirror, I saw an old lady with wrinkles and age spots. I wanted to think that a stranger was standing in from of it, but I finally had to admit. I was looking at myself. I didn’t even look as good as I had that first glance in a mirror after 16 days at the bottom of the Grand Canyon without them.
I guess it’s time to follow Jessamyn West’s advice: “Groan and forget it.” Or maybe I’ll just close my eyes the next time I stand in front of a mirror.
Perhaps, I’m vainer than I thought.
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
A morning sunrise in Tucumcari, New Mexico chases the darkness away. — Photo by Pat Bean
I recently read Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s New Year’s poem, which was written in 1850. It quickly struck me that he could have well written the poem as an ode to 2021.
“… Ring out the old, ring in the new. Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go,” wrote Tennyson.
“Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that here we see no more. Ring out the feud of rich and poor … And ancient forms of party strife … Ring in the love of truth and right … Ring out old shapes of foul disease … Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace …Ring in the larger heart, the kindlier hand. Ring out the darkness of the land.”
In 1850, America was heading toward a Civil War that would pit families against their own families, even brother against brother. In China, the Qing and Han Dynasties were fighting each other, and India was beginning to revolt against Britain – just the bare surface of a world seemingly gone amok – sound familiar?
It’s as if history has taught us nothing.
I kept thinking about this yesterday until I watched a show about the life of Rita Moreno, a Porta Rican actress who survived sexual abuse and discrimination to win an Oscar, a Grammy, an Emmy and a Tony. Her Mantra: “Damn the shadows, here’s to the light.”
Hey Rita, here’s to you. And to the light. May we all find it in 2022.
Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited) and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
It’s that time of year again. The time when I start thinking about resolutions for the New Year – even though I’ll probably break them before the first week of January has passed.
The past two years, 2020 and 2021, haven’t been particularly great years for me because of Covid, but then that’s true for just about everybody. And being retired, 82 and with a small but adequate fixed income, I’ve fared far better than most. So, I’ll quit my whining and look for the silver linings.
That’s harder this morning because the virus reared its ugly head and stared me straight in the face. My granddaughter and I had planned a road trip to Whitewater Draw two hours outside of Tucson to watch sandhill cranes. That was canceled because my granddaughter was with a friend who had been exposed to the virus. Since she loves me, she canceled our outing.
Sh-ee-t! (I was raised in the South so this is how my favorite consternation word comes out sounding) I’ll be eating the picnic lunch that I had already prepared for the trip by myself today. Of course, there’s a silver lining with that. I won’t have to cook.
Meanwhile, I love my own company and sharing that solitude with my canine companion Scamp – so I never feel lonely. That’s two more silver linings right there.
But as a mother and working woman who once never had a moment to spare, I have now become the sole CEO of my own life. And while at my age, one has learned to let a lot of things go, I still want to make my days meaningful. Time, which passes so silently – and quickly – is very precious to me.
That’s why I’ll be spending the next few days making a list of my New Year’s resolutions. I want to write more, learn more and be more. But I especially want to spread a message of kindness, which I believe the world is sadly in need of these days.
Will you help?
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
I had an enjoyable conversation with my granddaughter and her wife last night about working women and overcoming myths about the female gender, long considered the weaker sex.
Having myself given birth to five children, I find that idea seriously demented, but I’ve heard it hundreds of times in my 82 years.
Then, this morning, as I was reading Madelaine Albright’s book, Hell and Other Destinations, I came across the chapter about her pins, and the suggestion that she write about them.
Her answer was a resounding “No way,” noting how demeaning it would be for the first woman secretary of state to write about her jewelry. It would be like one of the male presidents writing about their ties, she wrote, despite the fact that she often wore pins to convey how she felt about an issue. Just as one president was known for saying “Read my lips,” she became known for urging others to “Read my pins.”
Some years down the road, Madelaine relented. While the Smithsonian put together the pin exhibit, she wrote Read my Pins: Stories from a Diplomat’s Jewelry Box.
In writing about this, Madelaine noted that in her day – and my day — women emulated men in order to succeed. It’s time that ended, Madelaine suggested, noting that “punctured earlobes do not mean a leaky brain.”
Now that’s a quote I’ll keep in my head for the next time my granddaughter and I have a gender conversation. But then she, and her wife, already know that women don’t have to emulate men to succeed.
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
I’m thankful for the great horned owls that make their home in my Tucson Catalina Foothills apartment complex. — Art by Pat Bean
My Blessings are Many
I no longer believe the Thanksgiving story I was taught as a child, but the day is still a good one for acknowledging our blessings, of which I have many.
These are some of them:
My renewed good eyesight, after cataract removal and recovering from botched surgery on one eye that left me in pain for a month this year.
That I’m addicted to bird watching because it brings me much joy.
Scamp, my canine companion who brings love and balance to this old broad’s life.
That I better remember the good times of my life instead of the bad times.
Air conditioning, because summer temperatures in Tucson can exceed 115 degrees.
Advil and my pain doctor, both of which keep this 82-year-old arthritic up and walking.
That I’m a writer who has kept journals.
A hot bath before bed.
Family and friends. They are the most valuable treasures in my life.
My continued zest for life and learning new things.
Trees, each unique and beautiful in its own way, especially Aspen trees in the fall when the leaves look like golden coins and shimmer in the sun, and play music in the wind — and that I got to see them this year.
My computer and the Internet, which instantly satisfies my curiosity on most subjects, and keeps me in better contact with those who live far away, like seeing my seven great-grandchildren grow up.
Deep conversations about books, life and the world with agreeable people.
Comfortable clothes and shoes.
My chef friend Jean’s chocolate chip cookies and our weekly happy hours on my balcony.
Blank journals to fill, and filled ones to reread.
That I’m an optimist and not a pessimist.
Shared birthday experiences this year, a tradition, with my long-time friend Kim.
Long, solo drives on scenic backroads, like 89A in Arizona and Utah.
Daily emails from my daughter-in-law, Cindi, who also sends me surprise care packages occasionally.
That I have the ability to laugh out loud, especially at myself.
A rare day when political bullshit doesn’t raise my blood pressure.
Discovering a writer new to me who has written many books. There were several this year, including Gay Hendricks and Tinker Lindsay’s Rules of Ten series, Ella Jameson’s Hetheridge series, and Louise Penny’s Armand Gamache series.
My Story Circle Network’s support team of awesome female writers, who’ve now been in my life for 11 years.
Color in all its forms: lemon yellows, cardinal reds, forest greens, sky blues, ocean turquoises, rainbow pastels, and orange and purple sunsets – just to name a few.
A renewed relationship with my oldest daughter, Deborah, who shares my love of good books and writing.
Oreo cookies, my go to when I absolutely must have something sweet and chocolate.
Card games with my oldest granddaughter, Shanna, and her wife, Dawn, who moved to Tucson to be near to me, and who live in my same apartment complex.
My mornings with cream-laced coffee and the New York Times.
Tucson’s colorful sunsets.
A Jack Daniels and Coke nightcap.
My oldest son, D.C. who checks up on his old mom to make sure she is still alive every day.
The few TV programs I enjoy: Survivor, Amazing Race, The Challenge, Sunday Morning, and that I can stream them on my computer because I don’t own a television.
Live theater, which sadly has been missing from my life during these Covid times, but which is slowly coming back.
The Catalina Mountains, whose many moods I see daily as I walk my dog, Scamp.
Hugs.
My monthly Social Security Checks.
Scamp’s groomer, Vaune, because he’s a handful and no one else wants to groom him.
Audible books to keep me company at night when I can’t sleep and reading a book in bed hurts my neck.
People who are kind and non-judgmental.
A soft blanket to wrap up in on a cool day — Tucson does actually have a few — and flannel pajamas and sheets on cool nights.
Snail mail letters from old friends.
Colorful jigsaw puzzles.
Flowers, all kinds but especially the gardenias that grow here in my apartment complex and remind me of my grandmother’s home.
Watching Scamp and his best friend Dusty curl up together on my bed when I’m on my computer. I’ve babysat Dusty for eight years, and she and Scamp follow me from room to room all day long.
Piddling with watercolors to create art.
Rainbows.
Readers of my book and blog.
Surprises.
Modern day appliances.
Vaccines, of all kinds, that have made the world a safer place to live and saved my children from deadly diseases like polio, diphtheria and small pox.
Grocery delivery.
Learning new things.
Armchair travel when I can’t do the real thing.
A bold, black-ink, and smooth moving bold black gel pen.
Morning snuggles with Scamp.
A thick, rich chocolate milkshake.
A new toothbrush.
A good massage.
Dinner leftovers for breakfast.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
I can’t count the number of Lassie books, movies and TV programs that have left me in tears. How many of you young oldsters remember this photo? And who the young boy is? And did you know that Lassie was usually portrayed by a male dog.
A Good Old Girls’ Club in the Making
I haven’t seen a movie or television show that has left me crying in at least a couple of years. Now, you should know, when I make this statement, that I have cried a water tank full of tears over the years, beginning with books like Lassie, Where the Red Fern Grows, and Black Beauty to a couple of Marvel movies.
Surprise of all surprises, the crying jag was restarted with Wednesday’s night’s episode of The Challenge All Stars, Season 2.
Now I know that people consider this peace-loving 82-year-old a bit strange — for someone who doesn’t like conflict, nastiness and mean people – because I’m a fan of both Survivor and The Challenge, whose weekly episodes usually display all of these traits.
I excuse myself because the participants are all playing a game, like Poker, in which dirty tricks, lying and outwitting your competitors are all allowed –Actual hitting gets you expelled from the game. I love the outdoor adventures and competitions. And amazingly, I also find memorable minutes of good sportsmanship and of finding some good in even the meanest people.
I’ve watched every episode, so far, of Survivor. I came late to The Challenge, but have watched as many episodes as have been screened.
So, what, you might ask, made me cry in The Challenge. It came at the end of a combined puzzle and weight-pulling competition, where one of the two female competitors simply wasn’t strong enough to do the weight-pulling, The other woman, by the way, outdid even the two men who competed in the same competition earlier, which, of course, thrilled me.
When the female winner finished, she went over to her competitor, and said “Come on, we’ve got this.” She then helped her pull her weight to the finish line so the woman could finish strong. It was one of the best female support actions I’ve ever seen. Even some of the bystander competitors even had tears in their eyes. (Just to note, I have seen men support their losing competitors in similar ways many times.)
But both these two women are mothers – and not so young anymore. The All-Stars episodes brought back players from 15 or more years ago. I found it very inspiring to see women staying active and supportive of their gender. Perhaps it’s the start of a good old girls’ club to compete with the good old boys’ clubs that have been going strong for way too long.
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
Amy Hale Aucker, in her book Ordinary Skin, writes about her choice to camp in a primitive area near a natural hot-spring pool despite warnings against doing just such a thing. While her mother only told her to be careful and not talk to strangers, others asked where she was going to plug in the hair dryer.
Even the campground host Jim, an older gentleman, asked if she was sure she wanted to do this.
She did, and she talked to strangers, even a rough-looking vagrant who joined her in the hot pool one night. Jim just happened to wander by, a few times, just checking out the campground. But Amy knew that he was making sure she was OK.
“He was taking care of me,” Amy wrote, noting that other men had also taken care of her during her life.
My first thought on reading this was the campground host, also an older gentleman, who daily checked up on me at a lonely Michigan campground during my solo RVing days.
It felt nice. Taking care of women was how most men were raised in my generation. And some of then took it very seriously. But then along came the female rebellion, when women decided things like opening doors for them wasn’t a good thing at all because it let the man feel superior.
Ha! Men have felt superior from almost the moment they were born, often simply because of the way they were treated by their loving parents, who gave them more freedom than their sisters, and made sure if there was only enough money for one child to be educated it would be them.
I was even told by a male high school teacher that females had no reason to go to college. They would be taken care of by a man. I remembered that clearly the day I realized nobody in my life would be taking care of me, but me. I had no problem with men opening doors for me. All I cared about was getting equal pay for equal work.
That, at least, was/is my generation, and I’m an American woman. In some eras and countries, female babies weren’t even allowed to live. Even today, in some countries, women can’t walk outside their homes without a male escort.
Hmmm. This essay took an unexpected turn, which often happens to me when I have my fingers on a keyboard and they take charge of the brain. My original thoughts were to compare Amy’s experience of Jim looking out for her, with the times men looked out for me.
And, like Amy, I, too, wouldn’t let the fear of being harmed by men stop me from doing the things I loved to do, like my solo RVing across America, or hiking a mountain trail alone because that was my favorite way to be in nature.
And also to note that if I saw a man with his hands full, I would quickly open the door for him. It’s the little courtesies between us all that make life more pleasant. And we don’t have enough of them in the world today.
Sorry for the detour from my first nice thought. But it’s hard escaping the real world.
Kindness, meanwhile, knows no gender.
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
A storm’s brewing — but the sun will come out tomorrow. — Watercolor by Pat Bean
Trying to Think Positive
Sometimes stuff – translate shit — happens that might be a blessing in disguise. At least that’s what I would prefer to think about losing a writing folder on my computer.
About a year ago, I started writing a book about my journalism years. I’ve titled the book Between Wars, because it’s how I see my 37-year newspaper career. My first significant bylined story was an interview with a mom whose son had been killed in Vietnam – we cried together; and one of my last pieces was an editorial urging the president not to take us back into Iraq a second time – he didn’t listen.
Anyway, I got about 10,000 words into it when I realized what I had written was garbage. OK, maybe not quite garbage, but I’m a writer, and like most writers, I usually feel that what I write is never good enough. But this time I believed I was right – my narrative bored me. So, how in the heck was it going to keep readers turning pages
I finally just put the project away because I couldn’t figure out a way to go forward. Lately, I’ve been reconsidering tackling the project again. Perhaps you’ve even noticed that I’ve been using my blogs, writing about journalistic events in my life, to stimulate my thinking. And I started a new computer folder to keep track of research and ideas for the book.
Yesterday, I decided it was time to go back and read what I wrote a year ago, and salvage anything usable. The folder, however, was missing – which had me saying that four letter S word numerous times.
Had I accidentally deleted that old Between Wars folders when I had done a cleanup of my computer a couple of weeks ago? Maybe. Then I started asking myself if that was actually a bad thing? Or was it a good thing because it meant I truly had to start over?
After a bit of wailing and hair-pulling, my silver-lining syndrome kicked in and I began thinking positive. But excuse me while I stamp around and rage, and maybe even cry, for at least another hour.
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
One of Charles Kuralt’s On The Road RVs on exhibit at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. — Photo by Pat Bean
The Joy of Soft News
“The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines,” wrote Charles Kuralt, a role model for both my journalism career, and the nine years I traveled the back roads of America in a small RV with a canine companion.
Kuralt began his On the Road television series in 1967, the same year I began my 37-year journalism career. The first time I saw one of the segments, I knew he was the kind of journalist I wanted to be, one who reported on good people who lived their lives quietly, each unique in her or his own way.
I, partially if not completely, met that goal. While I did cover the nitty-gritty political stuff, and horrendous child abuse and murder trials, and even the tragical September 11,2001 terrorist attack, I also wrote many upbeat stories about interesting, good people involving uplifting achievements and events. I considered every one of those stories my job’s silver lining.
In 2006, after I was retired, I visited the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan, where my favorite exhibit was one of the six On-the-Road RVs that Kuralt used during his 20 years to find and report America at its best. I blogged about it at the time, and later wrote about the experience in Travels with Maggie.
Kuralt’s influence on me came back to my mind yesterday when I was reading one of my journals and came across the notes about my museum visit. Curious to know how long Charles had driven the back roads of America — it was 20 –led me to the internet, and the discovery of our 1967 connection. It also led me to discover that segments of On the Road can still be seen today.
So, if you want an escape from today’s hard news, check it out at 20 Years On The Road with Charles Kuralt – Bing video Or you can just type in a search for Charles Kuralt videos and a bunch of links will pop up.
Have fun.
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
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“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters.” — Ursula K. Le Guin
Pat Bean is a writer, avid birder, hiker and passionate nature observer with wanderlust in her soul. She spent nine years living and traveling in a small RV. She now lives in Tucson with Scamp, a rescue who was supposed to be a Schnauzer mix but turned out to be a Siberian Husky-Shih Tzu mix who is as stubborn as his owner, her granddaughter says. She was also a journalist for 37 years, and can be reached at patbean@msn.com
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