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On Being Female

In my 40s, after I had regained my 10-year-old brashness, I bought a raft and learned how to captain it. Bean Pats to the female boatmen who twice took me through Lava Falls on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, females who didn’t let gender stop them from doing what they wanted to do in life. 

          “The fact is that a woman who aspires to be chairman of the board or a member of the House does so for exactly the same reasons as any man. Basically, these are that she thinks she can do the job, and she wants to try.” – Shirley Chisholm

It’s Really a Human Rights Issue

          In my goal to read Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations all the way through, I’ve encountered many a distressing comment from the ancient Greek poets that set my teeth to grinding.

To quote just two: “There’s nothing worse in the world than shameless women –save some other woman.” –Aristophanes (450-385 B.C.). “A woman is always a fickle, unstable thing.” Virgil ( 70 -19 B.C0.)

The attitudes weren’t much different, however, from the social patterns prevalent when I was born 80 years ago. As I recall the attitude back then was “Keep the women barefoot and pregnant.”

At a very early age, certainly before 10, I realized that boys had more life options open to them than girls. While I never envied their maleness, my bold, feisty nature emboldened me to vow that anything a boy could do, so could I.

I decided I would never get married and would be a female lawyer, a brash goal for a young girl in the 1940s. The

My mother, shown here in her 70s on the back of a motorcycle with one of my brothers, was a great example for me in her later years.

goal was diverted when puberty hit, and I went off course and married at 16.

But deep inside, I never lost the belief that I could do anything a man could do, with the exception of brute strength. I’ve always been a realist even if also an idealist. But even that assumption was challenged during the Equal Rights Amendment fight back in the 1970s.

I suddenly realized that some women were stronger than some men, even me. I also realized that men, although they had hundreds of more options, those options didn’t include those that were considered feminine, such as nurses or airline stewardesses. So it was that I began to think of equal rights as human rights, especially after, as an ERA supporter, I was asked if I wanted my daughters to go to war.

“Of course not,” I replied. “But I don’t want my sons to go to war either.”

By this time, I was in my 30s and had regained the feisty, brash attitude of my 10-year-old self. While I can’t say that I ever truly was accepted by everyone as an equal to my male counterparts, and I had to fight for equal pay in my chosen journalism career, I was able to have the life I wanted. And that, I’ve known now for many years, is the important right for all of us – regardless of gender.

Bean Pat: To all the women along the way who have inspired me, beginning with Loraine Bright, the woman I first revealed my secret desire to become a writer, and my first female editor Roberta Dansby, plus to name a few of the more well-known: Ellen Goodman, Anna Quindlen, Maureen Dowd, Barbara Jordan, Anne Richards, Molly Ivins and Maya Angelou.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Stuff Happens

Mother Nature gives us so many beautiful sights for free. I should enjoy them more and buy stuff less. — Photo by Pat Bean

          “Often when looking at a mass of things for sale, he would say to himself, ‘How many things I have no need of.’” –Socrates

The Accumulation Mystery

I went to a craft fair the other day, and fell in love with a ceramic garlic grater. My chef friend Jean, who was with me, bought it for me. I protested, but of course was delighted with the gift. And it’s been a delight to use.

Thankfully, it’s smaller than a regular saucer and fits neatly into my utensil drawer. In recent years, I have become increasingly concerned with having a place for everything and everything in its place — and not bringing home stuff.

I thought I was doing a pretty good job abiding by this philosophy until my recent move. In a seven-year period, I went from moving into a small apartment with only the stuff from my 21-foot RV and feeling like I was living in a mansion to the same apartment feeling a bit too small.

I simply don’t know where all the stuff came from.

Once again, when I moved to a slightly bigger apartment back in December, I discovered I had way too much useless stuff. I downsized and vowed I would never again let stuff accumulate. But that I will succeed in my resolution is not something I would bet my life on, perhaps not even a dollar.

Stuff Happens!

Bean Pat: Birding in Mexico https://www.10000birds.com/an-unexpected-yellowthroat.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+10000Birds+%2810%2C000+Birds%29 A

You can read about hikes I took in my late 60s and early 70s in my book: Travels with Maggie, which is available on Amazon

bit of armchair birding. I’ve never seen the black-polled yellowthroat, but the common yellowthroat, found north of the border is one of my favorite birds, as is this blog.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

The Waterfall at the top of Franconia Notch Flume Trail. — Photo by Pat Bean

“Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.” Anna Quindlen

It Is What It Is

          I’ve said it often, I enjoy being an old broad. Not thinking everything that goes wrong is a life or death situation, and grandchildren and great-grandchildren are just some of the positive sides of the aging equation.

Like everything else, however, there are drawbacks, the worst of which for me are the physical limitations that have restricted my hiking days.

My former canine traveling companion, Maggie, on a hike we took in Arizona’s Tpnto Basin. — Photo by Pat Bean

While I’m in good health for my age, and can still take short walks with my canine companion, scampering up and down mountain trails and silently trekking through deep forests paths are no longer possible. It hurts my soul to admit this.

Thankfully, I have my memories of the trails I have hiked – from the view of the Virgin River atop Angel’s Landing in Utah’s Zion National Park to the waterfall at the top of Franconia Notch Flume Gorge in New Hampshire. I’ve also hiked Waimea Canyon in Hawaii and many, many trails in Yellowstone National Park. Actually, I’ve managed to take at least short hikes in 49 states and Canada – I’ve missed Rhode Island.

In addition, I am collecting the memories stored in books by so many others who have loved the freedom of being out of sight and sound of civilization. Currently I am reading In Patagonia by Bruce Chatwin and Monkey Dancing by Daniel Glick, who took his two children on a trip around the world.

You can read about hikes I took in my late 60s and early 70s in my book: Travels with Maggie, which is available on Amazon

The truth is I’m addicted to reading travel books by authors like Tim Cahill, Edward Abbey, Jan Morris, Paul Theroux, Bill Bryson, Isabel Bird, Freya Stark, William Least-Heat Moon, Jon Krakauer and Peter Matthiessen, just to name a few.

Thankfully, being an old broad, means I have more time to read.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Words from a Long Ago Age

Morning Thoughts

When Scmp gets bored, he looks for things to shred. This morning it was two bookmarks. At least he doesn’t eat the pieces, and I get plenty of exercise picking up after him. — Photo by Pat Bean

With a cup of cream-laced coffee in hand, and my canine companion Scamp squeezed into my recliner with me, I continued my morning perusal of Bartlett’s Familiar Quotes, the first edition of which was published 165 years ago. Just for fun, I’ve been reading a couple pages a day of the old book.

It’s arranged chronologically and I’ve only gotten up to the 300 B.C.s. This morning’s reading included words by the

Theocritus — Wikimedia photo

Greek poet Theocritus’ His thoughts echoed in my own mind, speaking to an old broad who has finally slowed down and longs for peace in her life — which given the chaos in the world has been difficult to achieve.

Wrote Theocritus: “Sweet is the whispering music of yonder pine that sings. Our concern be peace of mind: some old

crone let us seek. To spit on us for luck and keep unlovely things afar. Cicala to cicala, and ant to ant, And kestrels dear to kestrels, but to me the Muse and song.

“The frog’s life is most jolly, my lads; he has no care … Who shall fill up his cup; for he has drink to spare … Verily, great grace may go. With a little gift; and precious are all things that come from friends.”

I thought it interesting that on the same page, Bion, another Greek poet, also mentioned frogs: “Though boys throw stones at frogs in sport, the frogs do not die in sport, but in earnest.” A good point to ponder, I think.

And now I’ll go put up Bartlett until tomorrow morning, and go walk Scamp, He has been looking at me with injured eyes because I have been ignoring him.

I wonder if Theocritus and Bion ever used a dog as an analogy in their writings?”

Bean Pat: Never Assume https://forestgardenblog.wordpress.com/2020/02/23/sunday-dinner-never-assume/ My thoughts exactly.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

The Good Old Days, Or Not

Pondering the Past and Present

“Nothing is more responsible for the good old days than a bad memory.” – Franklin Pierce Adams

I suspect I would have had less time to piddle around with my watercolors if I had been a pioneer woman. — Art by Pat Bean 

I’m reading Tobias Wolff’s This Boy’s Life. At one point in the book, he is told by his mother’s boyfriend that children shouldn’t be bored, that there were plenty of things to keep them occupied, and then he went on to note that when he was a boy there were no TVs or record players.

A sketching day is always a  good day. Art by Pat Bean

The words brought up the times I had used similar phrases to younger generations. “When I was your age, I walked two miles to school, and I was 14 before our family had its own television,” are things I specifically remember saying.

The implication is that those were the good old days. But were they really?

My five children, now in their 50s and 60s, are all still living. In the olden days, before vaccinations, they probably wouldn’t. As an American woman, I can vote. Before 1920, I couldn’t have

I have more time to read, and more books to read than I would have had as a pioneer woman. And I have the internet, which I love despite its flaws and capabilities to spread lies and hate. The Web satisfies my curiosity for knowledge and keeps me connected to my widely scattered family, and eventually exposes the world as it is.

While it certainly would be more peaceful without such knowledge, we are thinking beings and not ostriches that stick their heads in the sand, or so it is said when danger is on the horizon.

As an old broad, I’ve experienced a bit of both the old and new days. Like everything else in life, neither was or is perfect. I. however, I prefer to live in the present, and enjoy the advantages even if I have to live with the disadvantages.

Bean Pat: Friday Wisdom https://andrewsviewoftheweek.com/2020/02/21/friday-wisdom-end-meeting/ Short and true.

Blog pick of the day.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Bartlett’s Quotations

When I’m not reading or writing these days, or walking my dog Scamp, I piddle around with my watercolors. This is my latest piece. — Art by Pat Bean

“A good book is the best of friends, the same today and forever.” – Martin Farquhar Tupper, 1810-1889

Morning Thoughts

I am a fan of quotes, especially the ones that say a lot in a few words. So, it was that John Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations was one of the reference books in my personal library during my earlier writing days.

It was a thick, sturdy book with a green cover that I had acquired sometime in the 1960s. And it was among the hundreds of books that I gave to friends, sold to a second-hand store, or donated to a charity thrift store in 2004 when I downsized all my belongings to only what would fit in a 21-foot RV. I had bookcases in every room of my h

And this was the one before that.   –Art by Pat Bean

Recently, my friend Jean found a copy of Bartlett’s book and gave it to me. It was a 15th edition, published in 1980 on the 125th anniversary of the book’s first edition published in 1855. This one, also a sturdy book meant to last, has a faded red cover and 1,540 pages.

As I hold it in my hands and peruse the contents, it feels like I am holding a valued treasure – but one that has lost its purpose. To find the quote I used at the beginning of this post, I first searched the 500-plus page index for the word books.

There were well over 200 entries in print so small these old eyes had to hold the book under a bright light to read them.

Each few-words entry was followed by a page number and a line designation. It took about 20 minutes for me to find the quote I used, and I only looked up about a dozen of the entries.

Today, when I’m searching for an appropriate quote for my posts, I type in a word on my Bing search engine, and immediately have hundreds of entries to choose from.

So, I won’t be using Bartlett as a reference source. But it’s quite fun reading on its own, and bringing back memories long forgotten by this old broad. One was the songs of Stephen Foster, lines from which were included among the quotes and which were quite popular when I was a kid.

Oh Susanna, Camptown Races, Old Folks at Home, My Old Kentucky Home, Jennie with the Light Brown Hair, Old Black Joe, Beautiful Dreamer, My Old Kentucky Home. I sang them all with my grandmother.

It feels good to once again have Bartlett’s book sitting on a shelf in my home.

Bean Pat: To my friend Jean for her thoughtful gift. And to book lovers everywhere who value written words.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

“Don’t leave the butterflies white,” someone told me when I was painting this. . Of course, I didn’t listen. — Watercolor by Pat Bean

“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” – George Bernard Shaw

Morning Ponderings

Yesterday, I went to see the movie Knives Out, a good who-done-it in an Agatha Christie kind of way. This morning, I came across a question I had posed to myself in my idea journal: Who is the sturdy, steady ship to your tugboat? I think the question came from a writing prompt, to which I had no answer at the time.

An eagle, plotting its own course, — Sketch by Pat Bean

As I once again pondered the question, the opening scene in Knives Out flashed through my brain. In it was a large coffee mug that proclaimed: My House, My Rules, My Coffee. I laughed when I saw it, and again this morning when I recalled the cup while rereading the unanswered question.

I suddenly realized that I had always been that sturdy, steady ship. While I had, and have, strong, supportive people helping me survive this life, I have always been the one at the wheel of the ship steering my tugboat and directing its course.

Perhaps I would have missed quite a few falls down the mountain, and many deep potholes, if I had let someone else lead the way. But I never relinquished the ship’s wheel.

Probably by sheer luck, but I must say with a great bit of stubborn determination, I ended up in a good spot today. But if I hadn’t, I would have had no one to blame but myself.

Bean Pat: Fish Creek to Buffalo https://www.10000birds.com/fish-creek-to-buffalo.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+10000Birds+%2810%2C000+Birds%29 Take an armchair bird walk.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining

Photo of Mount Lemmon taken from my youngest daughter’s backyard patio. I live 13 miles closer to the mountain and thus the overview is not visible, just like the lives of those less fortunate. — Photo by T.C. Ornelas .

“Many people … wake up one day and say, ‘Hang on. Who am I? Is this really me? Is this what I really wanted?’ – Kate Winslet

Who Am I to be so Blessed?

I’m sitting in my bedroom, barricaded in a comfortable chair with my computer on a table in front of me so I can write and my beloved canine companion Scamp can’t get on my lap and lick my face for attention.

I’m drinking cream-laced coffee, looking out the window as the day lightens. Between the tree branches, I watch as the sun dances among the peaks of Mount Lemmon. It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.

Mount Lemmon from my living room balcony. — Photo by Pat Bean

I love mornings. They are my favorite time of day, before my mind forgets itself and goes about the business of the sometimes-chaotic day.

This morning, however, my little gray cells had a mind of their own. My thoughts considered a conversation a friend and I shared recently about not always having a bedroom of our own when we grew up.

We both bemoaned this very fact.

But as I wrote this morning, I thought about the fate of babies born in places in the world where they not only don’t have a bedroom, but no roof over their heads, not enough food to eat, and war raging outside their doors. I thought of women who can never travel alone freely across their country, who are married off at 11 or sold into sexual slavery.

Who am I to be so blessed with the place of my birth? To be comfortably housed, with plentiful food in my cupboards, to have the leisure to write, to travel, to read, to simply go to a movie when I want, and to sit here and enjoy my mornings?

Life is not fair. How could I ever have thought it was? I wish I could find a silver lining for every baby born into this world.

My thoughts have turned this bright day suddenly dark. I want to scream and yell and do something to change things. But what?

When I started this post, it was meant to be light and upbeat, but my fingers on the keyboard decided otherwise. It sometimes happens when I let the words just come. This morning I let them be. They needed to be said, even if they brought tears to my eyes.

I needed to be reminded how blessed my life has been, even if I didn’t always have a bedroom of my own.

Bean Pat: Dawn’s post:  http://dawndowneyblog.com/index.html/ another blogger whose day went awry.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Grandma Said It

Me and my oldest great-granddaughter Savannah, who is now a tall five-year-old.

“My grandmother was over 80 and still didn’t need glasses. Drinks right out of the bottle.” – Henny Youngman

Morning Chat

          I recently read an article that listed 63 sayings that we learned from our grandmothers. As I read, I remembered my grandmother actually saying about half of them.

But the list didn’t include her favorite; Pasty Lee — that’s what she called me – Did you know the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I heard that often, most likely after some excuse I had invented to get myself out of trouble from mischief.

My grandmother was not the stereotypical sweet little old lady. She was big, fast with a switch to my legs when I misbehaved, and loved her afternoon Pearl Beer – and I loved her dearly. She made the best enchiladas in the world and she had two songs she was always singing; My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean, an old Scottish folk song, and It’s a Long Way to Tipperary from World War I. The lyrics from those two songs still often pop into my head at unexpected moments.

A few of my grandmother’s other sayings included: Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, Pretty is as pretty does. You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar. People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. There’s no use crying over spilled milk. And, There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

I was only 11 or 12 when my grandmother died. But I still miss her.

Bean Pat: To grandmothers the world over. And to my own 15 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren who have brought many smiles to my face.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Sleep and Dreams

I often find myself in nature in my dreams. — Painting of Shone Falls by Thomas Moran, which was discovered at the Twin Falls, Idaho, Library when I lived there in the mid-1980s This would be a nice place to dream about. –

          “I put a piece of paper under my pillow, and when I could not sleep I wrote in the dark.” – Henry David Thoreau

Morning Chat

          I went ice skating last night. That’s amazing because in reality I never could do it. I played tennis, I hiked, I even roller skated. But I could never stand up on a slim blade of steel on ice.

But when I awoke this morning, the image of myself skimming around a frozen pond on skates was still vividly in my mind. I don’t remember anything else about the dream except the feeling of competently gliding across the ice.

It was wonderful, and I didn’t want to let it go. But go it went as soon as I opened my eyes to see my canine companion Scamp staring into them as his way of demanding his morning walk.

Scamp sitting on my bed watching me as I write this blog. He seems to be asking if I’m writing about him. — Photo by Pat Bean

I don’t sleep well these days, often waking frequently to shift into a more comfortable position or go to the bathroom, or to try and scoot Scamp over to his side of the bed. I think at least the first two awakenings are simply a side effect of being 80 years old, as I hear similar complaints from other oldsters among my acquaintances.

When I was younger, I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, and I awoke rarely remembering my dreams. These days, some mornings arrive with me feeling I never truly slept. I don’t worry about it, however.

I once read that if you close your eyes and lay still it’s as good as sleep. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but since I usually wake refreshed, I suspect it might be. Or else I sleep more than I think.

I do know I dream more, or at least remember more, and seldom are my dreams anything but pleasant. When I do have a nightmare it usually involves me back once again as a reporter chasing a story and in danger of missing a deadline.

I usually wake myself up before that happens. Then I lay still so as not to wake Scamp, who is ready to go for a walk the second his eyes open – even if it’s 4:30 a.m., as it was this morning.

I took him for his walk, then crawled back in bed for a rare, solid three hours of sleep before waking to find myself skimming across the ice on those thin steel blades.

  Bean Pat: 1WriteWay https://1writeway.com/picking-up-after-others-makeamericabeautifulagain-leaveonlyfootprints/ This is a writer’s blog I follow, but she has a non-writing goal that tunes into my soul. Let’s all do it.

Pat Bean is a retired 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, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.