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Archive for the ‘Journeys’ Category

There’s a reason why, after originally naming him Harley, I shortly, afterwards renamed him Scamp.

Aging My Way

No politicking today. Instead, let’s talk about my canine companion Scamp.

I’m a morning person, normally ready to get up with the sun each day, and so is Scamp, who is immediately ready for his morning walk. The combination usually works well.

Last summer, I moved to a ground level apartment with its own fenced-in small yard. One of the goals was that when I wasn’t up to walking him, Scamp could do his business in the yard.

Scamp, a shelter rescue who my granddaughter says landed with his butt in the butter, had other ideas. He decided his yard was the last place he would pee or potty. Even retrieval of the poop of a strange dog, which was not picked up by its asshole owner, that was retrieved to be placed in our yard would budge him. Nor would walking him inside the yard with a leash. Even two full days of no walks outside the yard would budge him.

That latter effort made him sick, and at that point I gave up. It’s not often I find someone who is more stubborn than me, but Scamp ups me.  So, I learned how to walk him using my new rollator. He gets long walks when I’m up to it, and very short walks when I’m not.

Meanwhile, I quickly learned that he had no problem peeing in my neighbor’s yard while I was talking with him, nor in my granddaughter’s nearby yard in the same apartment complex.     He just didn’t want to do any business in his own yard.

So now let’s talk about what happened earlier this week.

I had stayed up into the early hours listening to an audible book, so when Scamp was ready for his walk, I wasn’t. Being hopeful, I slipped out of bed and opened the bedroom’s sliding glass door that led into the yard.

Scamp moved to the bottom of the bed and stared outside for about 10 minutes, then returned with kisses and chocolate brown eyes that said: I really need to go for a walk. So, get up and take me!

As usual, I gave in and got up. Scamp then went outside but just to sit and stare at me with a look that said hurry, hurry! When I was finally dressed and picked up his leash, he did a Snoopy happy dance.

It was so cute that I forgave him for making me get up. Then, while I was fiddling to open the gate, Scamp lifted his leg and peed on my new garden gnome that stood nearby – inside the yard.

Scamp’s lucky that I love him as much as I do.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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Aging My Way

My generation lies between what Tom Brokaw calls the Greatest Generation — those who lived through the Great Depression and then went on to fight in World War II – and the Boomers (1946-64).

Born in 1939, I belong to the Silent Generation, one the Encyclopedia Britannica says consists of: “cautious conformists who sought stability, worked hard, and thrived by not rocking the boat in an era of booming postwar economic prosperity.” This generation also had a lower birth rate than the generation before or after, it was noted.

I think we Silents were also influenced by the Great Depression because it was our parents who lived through it. I was raised by a mother who could stretch a penny to the moon and back, and a bit of it rubbed off onto me. By sometimes following her example, and also setting spending priorities, I was able over the years to follow a few of my dreams to completion.

But I’ve never been silent. And while my generation had fewer offspring overall, I had five children. That was awkward when all my work colleagues once were sprouting zero population growth pamphlets. Looking around at what we’re doing to Mother Earth today, I’ve shifted over to their way of thinking – and my adult grandkids seem to agree.

Time changes everything is an understatement.

Today, some politicians – racist ones in my opinion – are calling for families to have 10 or more kids. Ouch. I feel sorry for their poor mothers. Frankly, I wish we would all just mingle together more so that everyone would end up a golden brown.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to understand what the Generation Xers (1965-79), Xenials (1976-85), Gen Y/Millennials (1980-94) and Generation Z (1995-2012) are all about. Yes, I had to do a bit of research to name them all.

 Today, looking at my grand and great kids – who range in age from four to mid-40s — I think they’re doing all right. I know for one thing; they don’t put up with all the crap we Silents, who didn’t want to rock the boat, did. And that’s a good thing.

But I would like them to be more respectful when I tell them I had to walk 10 miles to school in a snow storm.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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Aging My Way

I turn 84 in three days, yet I feel like I’m living the best years of my life – and I’m not alone.

We old broads and old farts are still passionate about life according to a recent New York Times article. It doesn’t matter that our faces have begun to resemble topographical maps denoting crevasses and ridges, we’re still moving and kicking.  

The “old” people interviewed for the NY Times piece ranged in age from 71 to 88. They were going on cruises, had day planners for their active lives and were even falling in love – aches and pains be damned!

I think I finally began accepting I wasn’t going to live forever on my 69th birthday. It was the one in which I decided I needed to try something new instead of what I had done for the past 20 or so years, which was to climb Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park on my birthday.

I hate to say it, but that climb on my 69th birthday kicked my butt.

Instead, I went skydiving to celebrate my 70th birthday. Afterward, I continued traveling around the country in an RV with my canine companion, something I had already been doing for five years – and would continue doing for another four.

On my 75th birthday I got my first tattoo, and on my 80th I took a solo road trip around Texas to see some of my widely scattered family.

This year, I’m going on an RV road trip with my best friend of 40 years. On our return, I’ll be celebrating at pub party planned by my granddaughter and her wife.

I didn’t grow up celebrating birthdays. They weren’t all that special in our family. And after moving away from home, I often didn’t even tell the people I was around that it was my birthday.  

That didn’t change too much until I hit that 69 birthday.  Now I shout it from the roof tops – and on my blog: Hey, I survived another year.

Birthdays mean more, I think, when you accept that there are more of them behind you than ahead of you.

So, A great big Happy Birthday to all of you out there who fall into that category. Let’s all just keep moving.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully

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Aging My Way

 “Sooner or later, all vagabonds discover that something strange happens to them en route. They become aware of having wandered into a subtle network of coincidence and serendipity that eludes explanation. On Tiptoe, magic enters.” – Ed Buryn.

After coming across the above quote, I was interested in buying Buryn’s book, Vagabonding in the USA: A Guide to Independent Travel, which was published in 1980. I thought it would be fun to compare what he had seen and written about to my travels across North America in a small RV from 2004-2013 — and what I wrote about it in my book Travels with Maggie, which was published in 2017.

But I only found one copy of Ed’s book available on the internet, and it was a used paperback selling for $85. Dang it! That’s a bit too expensive for a retiree living on a fixed income. I then checked my local library, but also struck out. It didn’t have a copy.  

Anyone have a copy of Ed’s book they would like to exchange for a copy of my Travels with Maggie?  I know my paperback only sells on Amazon for $5.99, but maybe someday it might be worth more. Who knows?  It happened to Ed’s book.

Meanwhile, I find it kinda nice to have such a dream.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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The Idea of Dragons

Art by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

          I’m always toying with writing ideas and, like many writers I keep an ever-changing list of them. The topics get erased as I follow through with a piece of writing, or deleted, when on second thought I decide the idea is worthless.

For about seven years now, the word dragons on this list has been taunting me every time I see it. My original idea was to write an essay called Dragons: A to Z. While that never panned out, I was reluctant to hit the delete button, probable because like other writers down through the centuries, these mythical creatures fascinate me.  

And while I didn’t get all the way through the alphabet with dragons, I did come up with some good quotes about them. Some, like the following, have had a special meaning to me.

“It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations if you live near him.” – J.R.R. Tolkien. This was the first dragon quote I copied into my journals, and metaphorically speaking, I was living next to a dragon at the time. 

“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” ~ Neil Gaiman. A good quote for anyone whose path becomes dotted with potholes – or deep gorges.

“We are our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves.” ~ Tom Robbins. I remember clearly the day I gave up my idea that a knight on a white horse ever existed. It was a harsh reality that turned into major, and positive, turning point in my life. And it became the theme for my group of white-water rafting buddies.

And finally, a reminder that there are things in life worth fighting for. “Here be dragons to be slain, here be rich rewards to gain; If we perish in the seeking, why, how small a thing is death!” — Dorothy L. Sayers.

Perhaps you have a favorite dragon quote you would like to share?

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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The Meadowlark and the Chukar, different but both still awesome. — Art by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

It is the part of us that is not like the others that is the best of us.

I came across these words recently, and it set my brain cells to pondering. I mentally started listing my own oddities, going back to my childhood when I was way too loud. I know that for a fact because I was always being told to lower my voice.

And being told to be quiet and shut up didn’t stop at home, where my mother and grandmother often told me that children are to be seen and not heard. It was frequently echoed by my teachers and classmates.

Except instead of being cute — I was skinny and freckle-faced with stringy hair — I can see myself, when young, as being very like Hermione in the Harry Potter stories: a know-it-all and always the first student to raise a hand when a question was asked.

My classmates nicknamed me Cootie-Brain, which followed me around from first to fourth grade, finally ending when my family moved and I went to a new school.

But the label Cootie-Brain was so hurtful to me as a child that I couldn’t speak it as an adult until I was in my 40s. And it wasn’t until I could finally write the word down and talk about it that the wounds it had inflicted on my soul could heal.

While the years toned me down, I also came to the realization that my true friends accepted me just as I was, because the loudness still returns when I get excited or enthusiastic about something. But now at 83, I’m happy I can still get excited. Maybe if I had tamped down my enthusiastic loudness when I was young, I wouldn’t have this wonderful asset today.

There are many ways I’ve always felt different from others, but the years, along with life and books, have taught me that we are all different in our own ways. And isn’t that wonderful?

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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Judith Leyster, holding 18 brushes in her self-portrait

Aging My Way

The theme for the March issue of Artists Magazine is “Put Your Best Face Forward.” It then goes on to feature self-portraits of artists, of which two stood out to me as being women who knew their own worth. The portraits were painted by Dutch artist Judith Leyster and American artist Alice Neel.

While we live in a world where too many of us spend way too much time trying to copy media influencers and others who may or may not have admirable qualities, the self-portraits of these two women tells me that, flaws and all, they knew they were enough.

I wonder if their self-confidence was easier to come by because they lived before the age of social media.

Judith Leyster even knew her worth, or so it looks like from her self-portrait, as far back as the 1600s. Her self-portrait (above) exudes confidence, even though she lived in a time when women were still considered property. In fact, her work, after her death, was attributed to her husband and another artist, a common practice back then

Thankfully, Judith was rediscovered in 1893 and her work properly attributed.

The second artist, Alice Neel (1900-1984) is an artist whose work I have long loved. And the self-portrait she painted, and is sitting beside below, is one of my very favorite pieces.

Alice Neel, sitting proudly by her self-portrait.

It’s called Alice Neel at 80. The painting tells me that Alice was a confident old broad who didn’t give a damn that her body parts had succumbed to gravity. Alice knew her worth despite the toll the years had taken.

Although I have no intention to paint a self-portrait of my own nude 83-year-old body, Neel’s painting does let me feel more self-confident about it – and to see the beauty the years have given all us old broads.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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Aging My Way

          Some asshole writer commenting on William Shatner, in the NY Times no less, implied he wasn’t a fantastic actor and hadn’t lived an incredible life. The comment had me screaming.

While I might agree Shatner’s acting might not be Oscar worthy, his role as Captain Kirk helped launch Star Trek’s incredible popularity, and as for leading an incredible life, how many of us can say we’ve flown in space.

Besides, I believe that each and every one of us lead incredible lives, ones that no one else can duplicate. I know I have. While I may not have had as many incredible things happen to me as Shatner – aftercall I’m only 83 and he’s 91 – I’m still enough.  

Even if people have the same experiences, no one reacts, comprehends, thinks, or responds exactly the same. Each of us is valuable in our own way. But that nitwit writer judged Shatner, I suspect because of his fame, against some higher standard.

The writer’s words certainly weren’t kind – or necessary, and in my mind represent the bullying that we’re trying to stem among our youth.

Still, since I’m not a Trekkie, you may be wondering, why the words of that nincompoop had me screaming, I’m kind of wondering about my reaction as well.

Screaming at something I read is not common, but then again, it’s not rare either. But this reaction was pretty strong.

Maybe it was my growing awareness, now having time to reflect on life, that each of us, in our own way, is incredibly enough for this world. Or maybe it’s because I have a grandson who qualifies for that Trekkie moniker, and I was screaming for him. .

 Or maybe it was just one old person taking up for another old person.  

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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Memory Triggers

A trip down memory lane — Art by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

My granddaughter Shanna often calls me as she drives to work in the mornings. She’s a fantastic woman who at 40 found herself starting life anew. She was a bit downhearted about it, but I told her that my life only got more interesting and exciting once I reached that landmark – and that’s the honest truth.

Yesterday morning as we chatted, she mentioned that she had met someone who might turn out to be a good mentor for her.

 The word mentor triggered a memory of my first, a tall, down-home, y’all-speaking, Texas county sheriff, who taught me the ropes for covering a murder investigation when I was a green-behind-the-ears reporter – after he had humiliated me a couple of times. But then that taught me the power of persistence.

It was a good memory. But then I’ve always tended to bury bad memories beneath a heavy rock that rarely gets lifted — and that’s a gift I treasure.

Memories, at least for me, are one of the positives about growing older. And if you’re into your eighth decade, and embraced life, you’re bound to have a lot of them. And the years have taught me that sometimes the simple and quiet ones, like a phone call from a loved one, or staring out at a field full of Texas bluebonnets, can be as meaningful as standing under a waterfall at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m not through with creating memories. I collected one just this morning as I watched a pair of courting mourning doves prance around my yard. At 83, I’m a lot more observant than I was at 23.

So, listen up brain. You better make some more room up there.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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I walked past this tree every summer for three years when I was a campground host at Idaho’s Lake Walcott State Park. I call it the tree with a split personality. — Photo by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

When I read the following, I realized I had not yet hugged the large cottonwood tree that grows in my small yard, even though it’s one of the reasons I love my new apartment. Wrote Ayn Rand, in a book I read many years ago:

“It had stood there for hundreds of years … Its roots clutched the hill like a fist with fingers sunk into the soil, and he thought that if a giant were to seize it by the top, he would not be able to uproot it, but would swing the hill and the whole of the earth with it, like a ball at the end of a string. He felt safe in the oak tree’s presence; it was a thing that nothing could change or threaten; it was his greatest symbol of strength.” — Atlas Shrugged (1957)

I bought my last home, the one I lived in before I sold it to buy an RV when I retired, because of the magnificent elm tree that grew in its backyard — and the tall ponderosa pine that stood in the front yard helped sealed the deal.

I admit it. I’m a tree hugger.

Looking at the photos I took over the years, I find many pictures that contain simply a single tree. Some of them famous, like an ancient bristle cone pine in Great Basin National Park which I stood beside; or the General Sherman Sequoria in Sequoria National Park, which I first saw when I was only about 12 years old.

Then there’s The 2,000-year-old live oak on Goose Island State Park called simply The Big Tree. If I had to name my favorite tree species, it would definitely be a live oak, whose branches seem to wiggle as they grow and can spread out as wide as the tree is tall.  

Another of the trees among my photos is a big old limber pine I saw up near Monte Cristo in the Wasatch-Cache National Forest. My old bird-watching mentor Jack Rensel, who sadly died three years ago, called it the Old Dude, and said it had been around before Utah had gained statehood.

That’s just a sprout compared to the limber pine identified near Utah’s Alta Ski Area. That tree, named Twister, is at least 1,700 years old.

My cottonwood tree comes nowhere close to being as spectacular. And it’s fallen leaves have been a nuisance to sweep off my patio and to rake up in the yard. In addition, the tree is raising havoc to the sidewalk and my gate, as its roots stretch out to reach the generous irrigation water used on a patch of grass diligently maintained in my apartment complex.

I suspect the tree is a wanderer that put down roots a bit farther than usual from the nearby Rillito River, or perhaps another tree hugger planted it.  A cottonwood tree can drink 50 to 200 gallons of water a day, which may be why the one in my yard is the only one of its species in the complex.

I’m thinking I should go hug my cottonwood before it’s deemed a nuisance and cut down as some other trees here recently were – after one of the trees in the complex decided to grow up into the living room of an apartment unit.

It’s an old complex, as are many of the trees that grow here, many of which are spectacular. Perhaps I should hug some of them, too.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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