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Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

An Old Broad’s Ponderings

Posted in aging, Books, Journeys, Morning Thoughts, Writing, tagged , , , on June 11, 2025| 2 Comments »

“We are necessarily influenced by those who have come before us.” – Elizabeth Strout, Tell Me Everything.

Aging My Way

The above sentence stood out to me like a yellow sunflower growing among rose bushes. Perhaps because I’ve come to realize how much I’ve been influenced by people and things that have gone before me.

Like all of life, some of the people and things I’ve experienced have been positive influences toward my becoming a better person — and some of my life’s experiences would have been better going straight into the garbage.

Now, at 86, I have this egotistical belief that I can mostly tell the difference. But then my still-with-it brain laughs at myself for even thinking such a thought. Rarely a day goes by that I don’t realize I still have much to learn. Morning chats with a granddaughter assures me of this.

But I have been fortunate enough over the years to have been exposed to a wide view of the world. First, because I read a bit of everything, including polarized versions of the same events; and second, because I was a journalist for 37 years during which time I saw both good and bad. 

Now, as I read the news and try to relate to the world from an old-broad’s point of view, I worry for young people who are denied such exposure because of such things as banned books, religious isolation and histories written by the victors.

Unless one sticks one’s head in the sand — which by the way ostriches do not do — one can’t help but wonder about the things young minds are being filled with today.  

Will these children be influenced by what their parents and friends and politicians say and believe all their lives, or will they begin to draw their own conclusions at some point? It’s something an 86-year-old with eight great-grandchildren ponders from time to time.

Meanwhile, I just hope my grandchildren all just grow up to be kind, regardless of what they believe. But then that’s my hope for all of us.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining. She also believes one is never too old to chase a dream.

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That’s How the Cookie Crumbles

Posted in aging, Art, Journeys, Writing on May 31, 2025| 2 Comments »

Old age means you don’t have to set your alarm clock anymore. — Art by Pat Bean

After 30, a body has a mind of its own. – Bette Midler

Aging My Way

As a 30-year-old editor, I would have changed that to read: After 30, a mind has a body of its own. But as an 86-year-old editor, the only change I would make to Bette’s quote would be to change 30 to 70.

Accurate, or not by medical standards, my body and my mind felt most alive and healthy when I was between the ages of 40 and 60, perhaps because those were the years when I was most active – both physically and mentally. I was quite a late bloomer in all departments.

My body continued to mostly behave itself until I hit my 70s. By the 80s, however, all I can say about my body is it’s in the toilet, which makes me want to repeat, at least a dozen times, my favorite word: Shit!

But life goes on. That’s how the cookie crumbles.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining. She also believes one is never too old to chase a dream.

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Two Mornings

Posted in aging, Art, Birds, Books, Journeys, Writing, tagged , on May 14, 2025| 5 Comments »

Yellow warblers sometimes visit my small yard. — Art by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

“Old age is something only the lucky get to do.”

I was surprised on a recent morning to realize I was sitting in my small patio yard – doing nothing. I had gone out to sit in a cool breeze and watch birds as I drank my morning cream-laced coffee.

But the wind was not gentle, typical for Tucson, and the birds had gone into sheltered hiding somewhere. Their absence barely resonated with me, until I finally realized how comfortable and peaceful I was just sitting there, a state of mind that is fairly new to me.

But I guess that is what happens when one is an 86-year-old broad. In my younger years there was a time I was so impatient to get from one place to another that I ran instead of walked. And my mind was always racing.

This morning when I sat outside with my coffee, birds were twittering all over the place. Amy Tan’s The Backyard Bird Chronicles, which I’m currently reading – and enjoying – inspired me to go inside and get a notebook and start my own chronicles. While my small patio yard doesn’t compare to Tan’s bird haven, I do have a tall cottonwood and two tall oleander bushes in it, plus a couple of bird feeders and one for hummingbird nectar.

As I watched and listened, house sparrows, verdins, lesser goldfinches, house finches, mourning and white-winged doves, Europeans starlings and a spotted grosbeak made their presence known. The bonus was a rose-breasted grosbeak that as far as I know was a first to visit my backyard.

I enjoyed this morning, too, — but not more I think then I did the one in which I simply sat quietly, with only my mind wandering about. It has never stopped racing.

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The Rabbit Hole of Web Surfing

Posted in aging, Books, Journeys, Writing, tagged , , , , , on March 27, 2025| Leave a Comment »

A beach in South Goa — Image from a Goan government travel brochure

Aging My Way

It all started with a word I had never heard before: Vindaloo. From how the word was used in the sentence I was reading in The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin, I determined vindaloo was some kind of food, as the book’s protagonist was heating it up in a microwave for dinner.

But what kind of food, I wondered, and thus begin my journey down the internet rabbit hole, a place I visit almost daily. My surfing told me that vindaloo is a spicy Indian curry. To be more exact, a Goan curry dish, according to Wikipedia.

So, what is Goan, my curious brain asked – and Wikipedia answered: Goan is the demonym used to describe the people native to Goa, India.

So, where is Goa? India’s Southwestern Coast, and additionally it is the country’s smallest state.

And since I’m into travel, even if it’s just from an armchair, I spent a bit of time researching Goa. The Indian state is nicknamed the Pearl of the Orient and its motto, according to the Goan government, is: “May everyone see goodness, may none suffer any pain.” I like that.

Among the other trivia tidbits I learned along the way is that vindaloo is based on a Portuguese dish called vinha d’alhos, which caused my rambling brain to remember that my great-great grandfather was a Portuguese sailor who jumped ship on America’s East Coast.

And with that, I jumped out of the rabbit hole and got back to my day’s activities, which a little bit later found me reading Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art, in which he encourages writers like me to stop procrastinating and write. And as if Steven had been peeking at me through a window, he wrote: “Resistance mounts to a pitch that becomes unendurable. At this point vices sink in. Dope, adultery, web surfing…

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, 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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Research: Then and Now

Posted in aging, Journeys, Writing, tagged , , on January 28, 2025| 3 Comments »

Aging My Way

Dick Tracy and his “Smart” Watch

I was reading an essay Michael W. Clune wrote about his panic attacks, which began when he was high school. He was told by an emergency room doctor that the best thing to do when he had one was to breath into a paper bag.

There was a technical explanation for doing this, something about hyperventilating, too much oxygen and the lack of enough carbon dioxide. I didn’t quite understand the specifics – but then that’s not what I’m writing about.

It’s what Clune did afterwards when he wanted learn more about panic attacks. He went to his local library, where he checked out the card catalog to locate a book or two about the topic. Not finding much, he then flips pages through the thick “P” Book of an encyclopedia set – which back then was a common item in many households. My family bought one from a traveling salesman and paid for it weekly.

Michael’s description of his search for information took this 85-year-old broad back in time. For years I had duplicated Clune’s actions to satisfy my insatiable curiosity – or to educate myself for a newspaper article I was writing. I also learned to use the Periodical Index. A huge book that was updated monthly listing where to find magazine articles on just about anything.

Those searches back then often took hours, maybe even days. If I think about how I can instantly find information online, it stuns my brain.

But then a lot of things blow my brain these days, like the watch I’m wearing on my wrist. It was a Christmas present from a granddaughter and her wife, who have been worried I would fall or something and couldn’t get to a phone. That I don’t always have my phone on me is a hang up of my age, I’ve concluded.

The new watch lets me both answer and make calls. It reminds me of Dick Tracy, a tough-talking crime fighter portrayed in a comic strip created by Chester Gould way back in 1931. Beginning in 1946, he had a watch in which he could call or be called.

Those facts, by the way, were found almost instantly by a Google (actually I use Bing) search. While I remembered Dick Tracy and his watch, the details hadn’t been stored in my brain.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining. She also believes one is never too old to chase a dream.

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One Thing Leads to Unanswerable Question

Posted in aging, Journeys, Uncategorized, Writing, tagged on January 19, 2025| 2 Comments »

While this is the year and model 1949 Studebaker convertible in which I learned to drive, the one I did that in was a lot more scuffed up and less shiny as I recall.

Aging My Way

One thing leads to another is the way my brain works, especially as an old-broad, and retired journalist who has time to let her mind wonder.

It started with a mention of the Stutz Bearcat, which I thought was a funny name for a car, and which sent me scrambling to learn more. My search had me acknowledging that information at one’s fingertips is the No 1 redeeming feature of the internet.

What I learned is that the Bearcat was designed and built by a man named Harry Stutz because he wanted to enter the Indianapolis 500-mile race. The year was 1911, and Stutz’ car placed 11th in the race’s inaugural event.

While uncovering these bits of history, my mind wandered back to the car in which I learned to drive back in 1955. It was a maroon, 1949 Studebaker convertible owned by a boyfriend.

Wanting to refresh my memory of that 70-year-old part of my personal history, I once again strolled through the internet until I came across a photo of the exact same model and make of that 1949 car.

Almost needless to say because of the year, the convertible had a manual gear shift. It made learning to drive a bit more difficult than today’s automatic transmissions, which I use as an excuse for my first driving lesson. While attempting to work the clutch and gas pedal at the same time, I and that convertible ending up taking out a hedge growing too close to the driveway.

There have been a lot of cars in my life since then, including a 1976 Ford Mustang, which was the first new car I owned and which cost less than $4,000; a 1990’s Subaru Legacy that wasn’t happy unless it was going at least 80, and which earned me three speeding tickets in one year (my first and still only speeding tickets) but which I still consider the best car I ever owned: and a 21-foot, 2004 Volkswagen/Winnebago RV that took me around the country for nine years after I had retired.

I wonder what it would have been like to have driven that 1911 Stutz Bearcat. But then that is something the internet can’t answer.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining. She also believes one is never too old to chase a dream.

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The Enemy is Us

Posted in aging, Favorite Places, Journeys, Writing, tagged , , on January 6, 2025| 2 Comments »

Alligator stand-off in the Okefenokee Swamp. — Photo by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

While thinking about the chaos going on in America today, especially after the senseless New Orleans rampage, an image of Pogo came into my mind. In case you’re too young to remember, Pogo was a fictional opossum who lived in the Okefenokee swamp in a comic strip by Walt Kelly that ran from 1948 to 1975.

 “We have met the enemy, and he is us,” Pogo once said — and that line has stayed with me ever since.

I was a faithful reader of Pogo from its beginning. The strip was written in such a way as to appeal to both children and adults, and I saw it both as a child and then as an adult who appreciated its political overtones.

The strip ran during a time when daily newspapers were tossed in your yard by a paper boy, including three of my own who had paper routes. The carriers were independent business owners who bought the papers at a discount price and then went around at the end of the month to collect from subscribers – and hopefully have a profit. It was a real-world reality for the youngsters.

I remember one cold winter, however, when I told them anytime the temperature hit freezing, I would drive them for their morning route. And since we were living in Northern Utah at the time, I found myself ferrying them around every early morning for a full month.

As for the cartoon’s setting in the Okefenokee Swamp, I thought the place was fictional until I came across the wetlands while RV-ing through Georgia. At 600 square miles, this valuable wetland should not have been so easily dismissed. I spent a day getting acquainted with the geographical wonder at Swamp Park, a Walt Disney like educational and tourist attraction located on Cowhouse Island near where the Suwannee River begins life.

Anyway, Kelly coined the phrase about the enemy being us for an anti-pollution Earth Day poster in a 1970 comic strip created for Earth Day, or so says Wikimedia.  You didn’t think my memory was good enough to remember years, did you?

But I do vividly remember Pogo. And I’ve often used his phrase about the enemy being us. It is quite applicable in many of life’s situations – and that’s kind of sad.

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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Best Books I’ve Read in 2024

Posted in aging, Birds, Books, Journeys, Writing, tagged , , , , , , on January 2, 2025| Leave a Comment »

When I was traveling the country with my canine companion Maggie, which I wrote my own book about, my RV was always full of books. Perhaps that is why I had a couple of flats while on the road.

Aging My Way

What I yearn for in books is good writing, surprise and depth. I also want to read books that teach me something new – and I want the good guys to win. Justice has become a dear thing to me.

That’s not asking too much, is it?

In my earlier years I gave an author 50 pages before I decided I wasn’t going to turn another page. Today, I only give them 25 pages. There are simply too many books out there to let myself be bored and uninterested.

Normally, there are five books on my reading stack, with bookmarks at different points among their pages. While I sometimes find a page-turner among them and finish the book in a day, other books are best enjoyed at a slower pace, especially ones that give me something to think about and savor.

I usually read about two books a week, with this including the audibles I listen to in bed at night – sometimes for hours when sleep won’t come.

I read all genres except horror and true crime, but mostly I favor fantasy, mystery, memoir and travels genres, as well as books about birds and nature. I prefer the feel of a book in my hand, but also read e-books. When I come across the title of a book that sounds interesting, I first check out my library, but Amazon and bookstores, new and used, also get a lot of my business.

It’s my belief that as long as I can afford a book, I’m not poor.

Meanwhile, in case you’re interested (you can always stop reading if I’m boring you), here’s a list of what I considered to be the best books I’ve read the past year:

 The House on the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune. And I’m currently reading the sequel, Somewhere Far Beyond the Sea.

Remarkable Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt.

The Best American Essays 2024.

The (Big) Year That Flew By by Arjan Dwarshuis, who in 365 days set a world record for seeing 6,853 species of birds, some of which are on the verge of extinction. If this book interests you, you should also read The Big Year by Mark Obmaksic, which I read way back in 2005.

The Kingslake and D.C. Smith series by Peter Grainger. These books were free on Audible, and an unexpected and wonderful find.

A Short Walk Through a Wide World by Douglas Westerbeke.

The Armor of Light, by Ken Follett, continuing the Kingbridge series. Follet’s always a great read.

The Rise of Wolf 8 by Rick McIntyre. A great book about the Yellowstone wolves.

The Inspecter Gamache series by Louise Penny. I’m currently reading A Better Man, which is 15th in the series. Penny is a great writer, but justice doesn’t always win in her books, and so they keep me grounded to the real world.

Happy Reading.

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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On Being a Writer

Posted in aging, Art, journalism, Journeys, Travels With Maggie, Writing, tagged , , on December 27, 2024| 2 Comments »

Just as an eagle must fly, I must write. — Art by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

“Being a writer is like having homework every night for the rest of your life.” – Lawrence Kasdan

I’ve been retired from being a newspaper journalist for 20 years now. It was a job I loved. I thrived under the stress of the interviewing, the research and writing against a daily deadline. Every day was a new learning experience – from writing about Father’s Day from the view of shelter dads to interviewing a former president at a busy airport.

I miss the excitement, and even the grind of that kind of life, which all began two years after I decided – without a doubt in my head – that I had to become a writer. That was a huge dream for someone who was a high school dropout.

As one of my efforts, I applied for a reporter’s position. I saw the job as an opportunity to hone my writing skills. Instead, I was hired as a darkroom flunky at the small Texas Gulf Coast newspaper to which I had applied — for the grand salary of $1,25 an hour.

Toward the goal of becoming a reporter, I started taking journalism classes at the local community college. Fortunately, due to luck and the resignation of two college-educated guys, I got my wish – and a 25-cent an hour raise.

 The year was 1967, and I was ecstatic. What I experienced for the next four years, beginning as a green reporter with no experience of the real world, was at least the equivalent of a master’s degree, not just in journalism but in life.  Those experiences, along with hard work and my clippings, took me through the rest of a successful journalism career that lasted for 37 years.  

And beyond – when I retired from my journalism job, I didn’t retire from writing. A day in which I do not put pen to paper or fingers on a keyboard leaves me feeling short-changed and restless.

But the writing I did in earlier years was all about other people and things – as all true journalists should do. What I write today is all about me and how I feel about things. No longer a journalist, I’ve become an essayist writing about my view of the world – and myself.

The change wasn’t easy, nor safe, because as a personal essayist I expose myself to the world. The transformation began after I wrote the first draft of Travels with Maggie, a book about me and my dog RVing together across America. I was told by a group of writers, who critiqued my efforts before the book was published, that my writing lacked voice.

And they were right. I suddenly saw that I was still writing as a journalist. So, I rewrote the book, adding the voice of an old broad who was still learning and still had a zest for life.

And that’s how I continue to write today – almost every day. I can’t help myself. I think that the day I stop writing will be the day I stop breathing.  

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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Memory and Time

Posted in aging, Art, journalism, Journeys, Writing, tagged , , on December 11, 2024| 4 Comments »

A week from now, what colors would you recall the colors of these flowers? More likely than not, it won’t be purple and yellow. — Art by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

Memory is fickle, sometimes true and sometimes false. I didn’t need Sally Tisdale’s essay “Mere Belief” in The Best American Essays 2024 to know that. All I have to do is listen to my adult children. When they recall one specific family event, no two remembrances of it are ever alike, including mine. We all could have been somewhere else on a different day.

 But I found the article well-worth the read as the author attacked the subject from an ethical writer’s point of view. She believes that we writers have a contract with our readers that says we are telling the truth.

I’ve always tried to adhere to this ideal – and wish all writers had signed the same contract. But enough of that.

Sallie also noted that writers sometimes don’t write the truth but think they are. This is especially true of memoir writing where an author recalls lengthy conversations that happened when they were only two or three years old. But then she went on to say that: “Our false and shifting memories of the past don’t matter to anyone but ourselves. The future only cares about what we learn from them.”

And that line of thought brought me to how I had looked at my childhood from a child’s point of view, and then how one day when I was approaching 40, I viewed it through an adult’s experience. I realized I had failed to be the mother I wanted to be, not from not trying, but from circumstances.

It was only then that I realized my own mother had actually loved me, that it was circumstances, including three much younger brothers and other heavy burdens she carried on her shoulder, that meant I didn’t get the same attention I had when I had been her only child.

A memoir I would have written at 20 would have been much different than what I would have written at 40. At 85, I can see how it would be even more different today. Experience, especially observing the world around me, has made me thankful for the great childhood I had.

Time has a way of changing things – and one’s fickle memories.

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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