I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve spent the past fifteen years of my life running away from home when the holidays roll around.
I’m not a fan of Christmas.It’s my least favorite holiday. I resent the commercialism, the attitudes, the lack of true spirit. Seeing people hanging up a bunch of blinking Christmas lights the day after Halloween, and walking through a department store full of annoying sparkling trees when I haven’t even eaten turkey yet gets under my skin. Fighting for parking spaces and running red lights in Walmart parking lot is about as tacky as it gets. The other day a woman was going through the aisles so fast that she smashed into my cart (hard!), smiled, and tossed a flippant “Excuse me!” over her shoulder before zooming on. My response? “Merry Christmas!” Was it sarcastic? Yup. But was I laughing? Sure was. Because more than ever this year, I have much more important things to think about.
Yeah, I have cancer. And I’m doing better than expected. But it still changes everything. Before cancer I had little tolerance for bull. After cancer I have zero tolerance for bull. Which might make you think that I have my head buried in the sand while I beg to be airlifted out of my misery. Well, surprise! Quite the contrary. I’ve found some semblance of peace, of wanting to do things differently. By jove, I’m done running.
If you’ve read any of my autobiographical blogs, you know that I come from a broken family. Holidays weren’t ever any fun, because someone was always complaining about someone else being late, or was outside smoking instead of opening presents. Oh, the hours spent on those cigarettes! (None of those hours were spent by me, but I’m the one with lung cancer. How about that.) Perhaps while all this was happening another family member would be missing a lost loved one. Or maybe a loved one a few miles away refused to come. That’s the way it got after a while.
I did my time. Once I was old enough and had enough money to escape, why would I want to hang around?
One reason: Mom. Mom still needed someone to be there for her when the door only swung one way. But Mom left us fifteen years ago on the longest and greatest road trip of all. And that’s when I had a license to run. Not only at Christmas, but the rest of the year, too. And I happily renewed that license on a yearly basis.
Make no mistake about it: I did it because I wanted to. Running turned out to be fun and therapeutic. (The sunset shots above are from Fiji on Christmas Eve, 2015.) And I’m going to start running again as soon as my oncologist says I can. Just with a few differences, and one of them is that I’m staying home with my family and friends for my future Christmases. If I do any running it’s going to be to places where family and friends await me.
I can’t travel right now, but I can still fill up my calendar with things to do, and this year I’m making plans with the special people I want to spend time with. The fact that time is getting a little tight is a reason to smile, not grimace, because it means that I’m loving and being loved back. Hey, I kind of like this!
Sometimes, it takes a total life-changer to figure out things that maybe you should have altered long ago. I’ve been spending Christmas and New Years alone for more than a decade. A new tradition begins this year. Maybe I won’t have the excitement of seeing the coast of New Zealand for the first time out the airplane window, or be able to post a picture from the California desert with a clever twist on “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” by rocking around the joshua tree instead, but I’ll be close at home and close at heart to those that love me most in the world and whom I love most in the world.
Everything in its time, right?
Merry Christmas to all, no matter where or with whom you choose to spend it.
One of my close friends and travel companions was recently in the Lake Tahoe area and wanted to do some time at Yosemite. I gave her a couple of alternatives nearby, in case the steep road up to the Tioga Pass was closed. Upon returning, she described Yosemite in two words, the first one being “cluster” and the other starting with “f” and having four choice letters. The sentence went something like this: “Yosemite was a cluster f*** of people.”
Yeah, been there, done that. In my bid to hike all sixty United States national parks, Yosemite was one of the first I eliminated. In fact, Yosemite was the first one I ever visited, way back in 1987 when I was a newbie traveler. Don’t get me wrong, I love the place. Ye olde Yosemite holds a lot of nostalgia for me, as my mom and I discovered it together, and revisited it a couple of times afterward. But it’s not the first park I would run back to, as I hiked it for several days, and oh yeah, there’s that people problem! (Thanks, John Muir!) What I would do again, however, is hit my two favorite sites in close proximity to the park. If you’re in the area, don’t miss them! And you can see them both in a long day if you only have one.
Mono Lake & the South Tufa Trail
Located on US 395 just north of the east entrance of Yosemite, Mono Lake was nothing more than a crystal blue alpine persuasion the first several times I saw it. It wasn’t until a decade or more later that I learned that the super-salty body of water actually had a trail leading to some other worldly formations of “tufa” made from calcium carbonate. Thus, the South Tufa Trailbecame one of my favorite trails anywhere. And like so many other incredible walks in the American West, anyone can do it. It’s short, flat, and spectacular.
A brief gravel road leads down to the lake, and a small parking fee is charged once you’re there. Mono Lake is one of those places where the sky makes all the difference. As you can see from my pictures, the white puffy clouds were on my side the day I stopped by.
Like anywhere a stone’s throw from a world famous national park, don’t expect to have the place to yourself. But most of the crowd will be at Yosemite. Promise.
Bodie Ghost Town
Anyone who knows their ghost towns knows that it doesn’t get much better than Bodie State Historical Park. To get there from Mono Lake, continue north on US 395 approximately twenty miles to California 270 east, just south of Bridgeport. Bodie is a fair weather destination; don’t underestimate the power of the three-mile climbing dirt road at the end of 270. The town sits at 8,375 feet above sea level, and you will feel it in your chest as you walk the dusty streets.
If you’re looking for an amusement park, you’re in the wrong place. If you’re looking for a genuine ghost town, you’re in for a real treat. Bodie is kept in what is called a “state of arrested decay,” meaning that it’s preserved but not restored.
You aren’t going to see any slick mining rides or “old west” shootouts. What you are going to see is the fascinating remnants of a once-vibrant gold mining town that at its peak was home to 10,000 residents and offered up as many as sixty-five saloons and a busy red light district. Bodie also has an amazing cemetery. If you love a good boneyard, there isn’t anything that quite compares to a ghost town burial ground. Don’t forget to check out the final resting place of Rosa May, the beloved madame of Bodie, who even in death is still bringing in the cash!
After you’re done with your walk, don’t forget to marvel at the simple beauty of the landscape. And don’t forget to thank me for a day away from the crowds at Yosemite!
Ever since I was diagnosed with lung cancertwo months ago I’ve been having a real identity crisis. Suddenly, I have this thing sticking out of my neck that probably nobody notices but me, yet I’m my harshest critic. It’s ugly, it’s embarrassing, it marks me as not being like everyone else. I’m a tumor. Who would want to hang around with me? I might be contagious. And truth be told, I’ve already been dumped by someone I thought was one of my best and closest friends. So, I must not be me anymore. I must be nothing more than a cancer growth.
I’ve started to have social anxiety. Me, the traveler that a few months ago was expounding on the wonders of Sri Lankaafter an exciting summer trip. Me, the hiking lady. Me, the road trip queen. Going shopping is a challenge now. Everyone looks so happy and cancer free. Going for a walk is a great achievement. What if I feel weak or need to sit down? Driving is even more aggravating than it used to be, that petty nut behind me trying to push me to go faster, not knowing the challenges I’m facing. Get a life, will ya? I got cancer, screwball. You: In a big hurry to get to McDonald’s for dinner. Me: Figuring out how to save my own life. Beat that. Yeah, you’re seriously going to get the finger now. No questions asked.
I keep hearing the usual things.
“Everyone has problems.” Yes, I know. But not everyone has the problem of figuring out how to be here to see the calendar flip to 2021 in thirteen months, when the statistics say it isn’t going to happen. Not everyone has a devastating disease rendering them unable to do seventy-five percent of the things they love to do.
“You’re still you, and we love you!” I know that, too. I don’t blame my mindset on anyone but me and cancer. You wouldn’t feel any differently if the future you were working so hard toward and looking so forward to might not ever happen.
“You’re not being a warrior!” Listen, I can’t be a warrior one hundred percent of the time, and for a person who had the rug pulled out from underneath her several weeks ago, I think I’m doing pretty good, in spite of it all. By some small miracle I’m not severely depressed, even though my life has changed from hopping planes to hopping on hospital tables. From hiking poles to biopsy needles. From Southwestern road trips to doctor’s office road trips.
Am I working through it? Yes, I am. I realize that life is fleeting for everyone. It can end at any time. There’s no guarantees for anyone. It’s a crap shoot that we’re all destined to lose. Maybe, though, I’d rather not know when, how, or why it’s going to happen.
Lately, I’ve been listening closely to the words I put out to the world, and I’ve changed the way I’ve been doing it. Instead of bemoaning my situation, I’m thinking of it as a hurdle I have to get over to get back to what I want. Instead of assuming that I’m not going to reach my goals, I’ve put them back on the table. Retirement is still a possibility. Getting back to traveling is, too. Over the weekend I took my first hike in a month and a half. Was it as fun as it used to be? No. But I can’t expect miracles. I just have to chip away at the hole I’ve dug for myself since this all started.
Oh, wait, was I really me and not a tumor just a couple short months ago? Yes. Then maybe I’m not that far from where I need to be. I’ve begun treatment and am ready to see this ugly piece of costume jewelry start to shrink. Until then, it’s easily covered with any number of pretty scarves I used to wear just because I liked them. I’ve been lucky enough to be granted a pass on chemotherapy, so I won’t need to deal with the extra added burden of being stared at while trying to look fashionably bald. Go, me.
I’ve stepped up my daily fitness goals. Though they’re still a shadow of what they used to be, they’re still better than they were. I’ve made some new norms, since many of the old norms aren’t possible right now. And yes, I have five realistic goals set for 2020. Let’s not worry about 2021 quite yet.
Something has to make me happy. My life can’t be all about cancer. Thankfully, most of the poking and prodding is over now that treatment has started. And the endless phone calls have ceased, too. Though I have to admit, those annoyances kept me busy with little time to think about anything else.
Now, I have to think about getting me back and ceasing to be defined by a tumor. Maybe I’ll even figure out, like some cancer survivors do, that there’s a really good reason behind all this, as ironic as that sounds.
I want to believe there is. Just be patient with me while I find it.
With my recent cancer diagnosis, it’s kind of weird to be going back through old photo albums in order to write these autobiographical blogs. But I’m not giving up on them, anymore than I’m giving up on fighting cancer and winning! So let’s pick this story up where I left off:in 1993, when I learned to read maps and the road became my second home. Or more accurately, our second home, because my mom loved the road, too, even if she was always in conflict with leaving our stationary home.
Summer 1993. I get the big idea to do things a little differently. After mom and I cut our teeth with tour companies, and watched things we wanted to see go by out the bus window without being able to stop, we contacted our travel agent (gee, where have you heard that term lately!) and had her book us a cheap package to Las Vegas where we would rent a car and stay at the new Excalibur Hotel for seven nights. I pulled out my trusty road atlas and started planning. We could go to the Hoover Dam! And Death Valley! And Zion National Park! And the Grand Canyon! And…Jeez, could I really make this happen for us?
We’d also make a special stop at Death Valley Junction, a town that occupied a huge place in my current book, a long, handwritten saga of spoiled youth in Southern California. The Golden State was still my Promised Land, and no map made me hungrier than the one of Southern California. I found colorful names of cities and towns across the endearing area and assigned characters to the places. My favorite character of all hailed from Death Valley Junction, which I pictured to be something of a boom town. Small, but exciting. More on our discovery in a few.
Off we flew to Las Vegas and picked up our car. It was our first time in Sin City, and one of the only times I actually liked being there. I love Vegas now for only one reason: It’s a great jump off point to so many better places. Otherwise, I have little use for it, because I don’t care about gambling or the other activities the city offers. But back in 1993, Vegas was everything it was supposed to be. Given its proximity to California, even better.
In today’s world of “influencers” traveling the globe and showing their IG followers only the very best highlights of a grueling lifestyle, flying to Vegas and driving two hundred miles to Zion National Park must not seem like a big accomplishment. But to the me of 1993, a twenty-six-year-old small town girl with stars in her eyes, this was a heck of a big deal. Did we make it everywhere we were supposed to go? Yes, indeed! But I’ll confess that we took a bus trip to Grand Canyon West, as it was easier to do it on an organized tour. This was long before glass bridges and expensive zip line packages. My favorite part of our trip had to be the Death Valley day. En route to what turned out to be one of my favorite national parks we stopped at Death Valley Junction and found not a boom town…but a ghost town! Another love was born. I’ve sought out as many as possible since then. Here’s a funny page from the magnetic album I made. Check out that cute Mustang!
I had a dead end job at the time, and that’s what I went back to after this life-changing adventure. Friends got me into some local nightlife, but I never gave up on my pursuits of getting to other places. California wasn’t the only state where I found pleasing town names; I had them for every state. Places like Zook Spur, Iowa (another favorite!) and Summer Shade, Kentucky. Always whimsical, always good monikers to inspire stories that were flights of fancy. And always, always, places that made me yearn to get in a car and drive.
In 1994, I started to connect the dots between towns and to see how state highways, US highways, and freeways led to one another. I connected them so well that I came up with an enthusiastic endeavor to drive from Massachusetts to California and back again on a 9,400 mile road trip that would go through twenty-seven states, a dozen national parks and monuments, and to several other must-see spots in a time frame of forty-eight days. What did I expect my mom to say? A resounding “NO”! But Mom didn’t say no. Because we would have a once in a lifetime experience and be better people for it. Sure, Mom! Bless her heart. We set off in, are you ready for this, my 1990 IROC-Z convertible, all three of us total road trip virgins. Here’s one of my favorite unexpected moments on a trip that I still have not topped for length of time or mileage even twenty-five years later:
No, you aren’t seeing things! That’s snow in July at Yellowstone National Park! And I was driving a lightweight Chevy Camaro convertible. Beat that, IG “influencers!”
After the excitement of the road, going back home to our tiny town was pretty tough. I understand a little bit of why musicians go so wild on concert tours then have a tough time readjusting to normal life again. And a pattern started to develop: just take any old job to make enough money to go on the next big adventure. The other idea that I got was that it was about time to get serious about moving to Los Angeles, my biggest dream. Like so many, I wanted to study acting and get into “the business.” I was already past my mid-twenties, so I couldn’t wait much longer. I wanted my mom to come with me, but because of my sister Jeanne she couldn’t even consider it. Jeanne needed her more than me. But as always, Mom swallowed her hurt and told me. “Go to California!”
Still, there was something in it for her: a four week one way road trip to drive my new Geo Tracker to Los Angeles, find a place to live, and fly back to pack up my less than worldly possessions. What turned into a “once in a lifetime experience” in 1994 was turning into much more than that and would continue to, even with Mom and me living on opposite coasts. This particular trip was 5,000 miles one way, and hit many more states that the first one didn’t, including what would become my favorite place on the globe, Southern Utah. Here we are at Monument Valley, circa 1995:
How about that backdrop? It always reminds me of one of those fake pull-down things we used to pose in front of for school pictures!
While on this trip I took perhaps my favorite photo of Mom. Does anyone remember Highway 666 between Monticello, Utah and Gallup, New Mexico? It’s US 491 now. Ahh, them glory days of road trips!
Notice how I had Mom in the devil holding the pitchfork pose. I was always putting her up to some bit of silliness, and she was such a good sport! Here’s another classic:
Living in Southern California was a pretty intense experience for me. I was there for almost five years, and it was jam-packed full of exploration. If I had two days off from one of my many cruddy jobs I’d be on the road in the Tracker. Even one day would be sufficient. Once I drove 700 miles and was home the same evening! Usually, I was alone. But Mom came out several times and we took even more trips together, including a journey up the west coast to Seattle in 1997, and to Alaska the following year. My niece Amanda joined us one summer for fun closer to home, and I made my own trips back to the east coast.
Southern California was where I got my first taste of doing stuff that would freak people out. Notice me in one of the pictures at the top of this post getting ready to go hang gliding. Before that was sky diving!
Yeah, like I said, quite a five years!
My next fabulous idea was to branch out to our second continent: Europe. Mom had three things on her Bucket List, and we did two of them on our 1999 European excursion: we went to the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain, and visited our homeland, Poland, where Mom paid tribute to her father at the Jasna Gora Monastery in Czestochowa, home of the famed Black Madonna. We also got to five other countries: Czech Republic, Slovakia, Germany, Austria, and Hungary. A month away from the comforts of home was a heck of a long time for Mom; she didn’t like the change in currencies or trying to keep up with the rest of the group we traveled with. By this time she already had a knee replacement and would be getting another one before long. I knew that the next time I went across the Atlantic she wouldn’t be along for the ride! But road trips were still of interest to us. We weren’t done with them yet!
By 2000, I was ready to go home. I felt like I did everything I wanted to do in L.A. and after studying acting for a couple of years and getting a bitter taste of “Hollywood,” wasn’t interested or impressed anymore. Mom was getting older, I missed her like crazy, and I wanted to spend the rest of her life with her. I did a solo road trip in the summer of 2000 to get back to Massachusetts and picked up more states toward my goal of visiting all fifty.
My timing, it turned out, was excellent. Mom and I still had four years together, and we made the most of them.
I INTERRUPT THIS EPISODE OF MY BEAUTIFUL LIFE TO BRING YOU THIS SPECIAL BULLETIN:
I HAVE CANCER
Whoa baby, what? Me, who travels around the country and the world hiking and enjoying the great outdoors and eating fruit and cheese and taking care of her body and not smoking and…gasp, gasp, gasp.
I HAVE LUNG CANCER
Just got a full diagnosis late last week. It could have been much, much worse. Like if it had spread to other major organs. It was caught quickly enough, but not quickly enough to be easy to get rid of. And so, a new adventure in the life of me begins. A journey I didn’t ask for that started just one month ago will end in a way that I cannot predict, but that I pray I can have some influence over with continuing to fight, be positive, be strong, and do what’s best for me.
The saga begins with Little Lump.
Little Lump appeared in the middle of my neck , near my clavicle, without me even knowing it was there. My first sign that something wasn’t quite right was when I was on my road trip this summer and I felt a strange pulling in my neck and upper chest that I had never felt before. Because I spend so much time with stuff strung and slung across my body, I just figured it was something rubbing against something else. When Little Lump started to show itself to the world I pointed it out to a few friends and family members, but none of them took much notice of it. I even went to the school nurse at the high school I teach at and she thought maybe it was a cyst. On September 12th, I took myself to my primary care doctor. She sent me for an X-ray immediately following my office visit. Two abnormalities showed on my chest x-ray. I was contacted right away and scheduled for a CT scan. Let the hell begin.
Pointer #1: If you find anything on your body that doesn’t belong there or doesn’t feel right to you, do not ignore it, even if someone tells you it’s “normal.”
While I anxiously awaited my CT scan, (and believe me, none of these things are ever scheduled fast enough!) my body started to fall apart. For a couple of days I was in incredible pain radiating from my neck, and had other disturbing symptoms. I was advised to go to the emergency room, where I ended up getting my CT scan, not only of my chest, but of my C spine, too. Compared to the saga of Little Lump, being told that I had arthritis and spine degeneration seemed like a minor inconvenience. And now Little Lump had a partner in crime: Little Lesion. Let the hell continue.
Pointer #2: Get serious when it’s time to get serious. I’m not saying to “prepare for the worst.” But do prepare for news that you don’t want to hear, because it’s a lot easier to deal with when you get it.
With some muscle relaxers and anti inflammatory medication prescriptions in hand, I had a week of relative peace until I followed up with my primary care doctor, who had boldly spearheaded this whole nightmare. She referred me to an oncologist (uh-oh!) not because she thought that I had cancer, but because the next step was to get a biopsy, and oncologists are the experts at that kind of stuff.
Okay. I’m going to an oncologist. Oncologists means cancer. Cancer!
Pointer #3: If you have a lump or abnormality and your care isn’t going similar to this, (x-ray, CT scan, specialist, biopsy) then advocate for yourself or get a new doctor.
Now, I have to take another break here and talk about the things that were going on around me while my life was turning into one big health crisis.
Everyone knew what was wrong with me (except, of course, for my team of doctors!) Everyone had advice. Some people made faces, others couldn’t look me in the eye, the immediate perception was that I had cancer and thus I was going to die. This was a hell of way to feel when I was already doing myself in. I just had to keep asking people to BE POSITIVE. I’m a firm believer in negative vibes causing negative events to happen. And for the record: unless you’re a medical professional with up to the minute knowledge of the world of medicine, you really have no business spouting fancy language. NONE.
Pointer #4: Don’t listen to Google doctors. Politely thank them as well meaning people and wait for opinions from your medical team.
My oncologist was skeptical about a cancer diagnosis, but was more concerned about Little Lesion than Little Lump, so I was scheduled for a biopsy of my lung. September 30th was the big day. After being warned about the possibility of air getting in my lung during the biopsy and having to spend the night in the hospital, my radiologist made the decision that Little Lump had to be biopsied after all, so the day went much easier. But at that point I pretty much knew I had THE BIG C. Believe me, when you hear the term PET SCAN, you can pretty much win any bet that you have cancer. With a cost of $5,000 or more for the ear-to-knee variety of the PET Scan, no insurance company is going to pay for this test without a serious diagnosis, and I’ve heard of people being turned down for them even if they have one. Luckily, I was not one of those people.
My pain-free peace came crashing down a couple of days after my biopsy, and I landed in the ER again. This was probably the worst part of my journey thus far, because I had a CT scan of my brain, and it was believed I had a brain tumor, until an MRI shot that theory down. I think that was the only time I cried since this whole thing started. For the first time since I was five years old and I had my tonsils out, I was admitted to the hospital to have more testing done but not, thankfully, to have emergency brain surgery! My oncologist visited me the following day and wanted me out of that bed immediately, as the PET Scan can only be done on an outpatient basis. Hey, I had to get my steps first!
The week between my discharge and having the scan then awaiting my diagnosis and prognosis was horrendous. I lost weight at an alarming rate, had awful nights, was afraid to be alone, couldn’t even drive! Me, of the 10,000 mile road trips! I was convinced I had cancer throughout my entire body, going on its very own horrible road trip.
Meanwhile, two of my sisters were (and are) bringing me everywhere and sleeping on my couch. Friends and coworkers were (and are) visiting, texting, messaging, emailing, supporting me on social media. People I don’t even know and have never heard of were (and are) hoping and wishing and praying for me. The response has been overwhelming, humbling.
Pointer #5: Gather the troops! And make sure every bit of attention and support you’re getting is POSITIVE.
Diagnosis/Prognosis day: October 10th. A real nail biter. The news wasn’t quite as grim as widespread cancer, but it isn’t exactly party central, either. I got the best thing possible: hope for a cure. My cancer has not spread to distant organs, but it has gone to one lymph node and, of course, Little Lump. All on the same side of the body. Stage 3b lung cancer. Me! Healthy, happy ME!
The statistics are against me. But I’m not dealing in statistics anymore. I refuse to be a statistic. I’m just preparing for a damn good fight.
I’ve gained weight back. Took a leave from school to stay healthier. (Thank you, paid sick time!) Still have fitness goals, but obviously nothing like they were. Finding out everything I can to help me go in the right direction.
That’s all I have for now. Soon, I’ll have more appointments and treatments to write about. Until next time, I’ll leave you with a couple of things. First, the GoFundMe page I set up to help me fight this battle. Every cent of donations will be used accordingly. Second, a few pictures from my adventures this summer, not to be melancholy, but to remind myself (and the world) that I’m going to be this person again when I see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Jeez, I’m obviously not very good at keeping up with this autobiography stuff. Only two posts all year! Last time I promised that I wasn’t going to take so long to get to the next installment in my life story, a promise that I wasn’t able to keep. But now that my blog is the focus of my writing life, I may just do better!
At any rate, in case you want to read the first two chapters in the life of me, here’s the story of my first ten years, and here’s the post about my teenage yearsafter losing my beloved Dad.
And now, to continue…
So there I was, with two new loves, writing and maps, but with a family shattered by the death of my dad. My interests didn’t stop me from heading down some wrong paths for a few years, even as I obsessed over road atlases my mom would buy me and created wild stories in my head and on paper about characters who traveled, fell in love, and were a heck of a lot happier than me. At a very young age I found temporary infatuations with drinking, smoking, and being a pothead. I’m not sorry about doing any of those things, because by the time I was eighteen I didn’t care about any of that anymore, but did care about my stories and my Rand McNally’s. Back then I didn’t think I had any chance to travel or live a life even close to the stories I was writing. As it turns out, I was wrong.
Like a lot of people, my travels started out in the obvious place: Disney World, of course! I was fifteen, it was 1982, and Epcot was just opening. My mom scrounged up enough money for us to go together. It was my first flight, and we also went to Sea World, Cypress Gardens, and Busch Gardens, on a guided tour. The travel bug was planted! I have my mother to thank for that. Here’s a real oldie of me from that trip, at Cypress Gardens. I was really in my Ugly Duckling phase in ’82!
Florida was a dream, but to me the real prize was getting to California. It didn’t happen for five years after Florida, though we took some smaller trips. Between 1982 and 1992, Mom and I also made it to Amish Country, Washington, DC, New Orleans for Mardi Gras, Nova Scotia, Hawaii, Bermuda, Niagara Falls and Atlantic City, New Jersey. Not a bad take for two ladies who had really never been anywhere! I’ve included a picture from each trip. I have to stress here, too, that this wasn’t all about me, it was about Mom, too. Traveling was a new beginning for her. Not an easy or quick one, but eventually a welcome escape from the black hole her life seemed to be without Dad. She always said that Dad would have been behind her decision to take me places. I’ll just bet he would have been pleased to know that she was finally starting to get some satisfaction out of life again.
Mom never forgot her first and only love. But I fully believe she was finally able to let go of him more after fifteen years, ten years of which we were going places together.
I held down a full-time position in a local factory during most of these years. Our travel schedule wasn’t too wild yet, so I was able to squeeze the trips into paid vacations. That would get trickier as our travels got more sophisticated…and personalized.
While Mom and I were bonding ever closer and getting better at the travel thing, relations in our family were falling apart. Assumptions of favoritism were rampant, resentments cropped up that my sister, who is disabled, had to be taken care of while Mom was gone. Money problems were always at the forefront of every conflict. Things didn’t get any better, though everyone said they wanted Mom to enjoy life. In fact, things got steadily worse. I used to say that we weren’t a dysfunctional family, because that would indicate we were functioning, just not the right way. Hardly the case with us; we weren’t functioning at all. Because of this, Mom and I could never be completely happy traveling. She was filled with guilt for leaving her daughter, who required total care, in the hands of someone else, when she had always provided for her. Being far away from home without the option to get back quickly was tough for her. Sometimes she would cry and worry. My job was to cheer her up. It didn’t always work, but we still had plenty of good times.
We didn’t give up. Soon, traveling would get even more interesting. We’d leave the guided tours behind and start making our own fun.
That’s when I learned how to read those maps I was obsessing over. The United States and Canada were soon to be our oyster!
As we get older, the world expects us to look like we’re younger, act like we’re younger, and covet youth. We’re supposed to want to be the Kardashians with their bright orange six-figure cars, or those twentysomethings making fashion statements at Coachella. At 52, I’m all for looking and feeling young. I routinely have others telling me I look at least ten years younger than my actual age. And damn right, I’m going to fight old age every step of the way, like the old Oil of Olay commercials said. But I don’t covet the Kardashians and their ridiculous vehicles and lifestyles, Coachella fashions and the people who wear them, or even youth in and of itself. Truthfully, when I grew up was a much nicer time than now. I know what it’s like to be able to get in a car with a near-stranger and come out alive.
I’ve learned a lot of other things from aging. Here are eight of them.
1. Let Others Have the Last Word
When you’re young and opinionated, you always have to get in the last word, to “make your voice heard.” Getting the final say is gratifying, like “Yeah, I guess I told him/her!” A real adrenaline rush, even. As the years have gone by, I’m so much more likely to give others the last word so they can feel like they told me. I’ve come to understand that last words leave the ball in my court, just where I like it to be, and leave sometimes angry conversations dangling with the other person’s unfortunate or ugly words the last thing said. The ability to do this also says, “You’re right, I’m wrong,” even if you know it isn’t true. We love to be right. Give the other person that pleasure. Maybe you can even say it: “Yeah, you’re right,” with a little knowing smile. Leave them wondering what you really mean. In the end, you’ll feel better, especially when the dust settles and you turn out to be the one in the know. Don’t expect the other person to be able to congratulate you on your know how. Congratulate yourself on giving them the final say.
2. Love Takes Many Forms
I spent a major part of my youth pining “for love,” when the greatest love of my life, my precious mother, was right there with me. (My other great love, my father, passed away when I was ten, so I missed a lot of his wonderful gift.) I don’t regret feeling this way, because even as I pined I got so much from her and didn’t take advantage of it. But what I know now is that I don’t have to be in a committed relationship or be engaged or married to be loved. In fact, I feel like with the lifestyle I lead, not having a steady partner is much better for me. Love comes in many other forms: siblings, more distant family members, friends, students, coworkers, animals. I’ve met people on social media that have become very important to me, even if I may have just seen them face to face a couple of times in my life, or not at all. Once again, it’s our society that makes us believe if you’re not “with” someone, then you aren’t worthy. Complete nonsense. If I can be forever single and build a wall of love around me, believe me, you can, too.
3. Money is Important, But it’s Not THAT Important
I absolutely was one of those young people that wanted to be “rich” and “famous.” Then I went through a phase that I only wanted those things because I wanted to help others. I landed somewhere in between, just wanting to do what I love and be nice to people and help when I can. You don’t have to have millions to do that. Still, it’s not accurate to say that money isn’t important, because it is, to a certain extent. But it isn’t everything. As the years go by, I’ve come to realize that you don’t really need a huge amount of money to be able to live a good life. And money attained by hard work is much more appreciated than funds handed to you by someone else. Having enough money to pay your bills and have some money left over to enjoy life is the best thing. Not having enough is too stressful to enjoy much of anything, having too much makes you indulgent. Time is an important commodity in this one, too. Finding a good balance of making enough money to feel good about things without working more than your forty hour work week and cutting into your ability to enjoy it should be the goal.
4. The Lottery is a DUMB Dream
Guilty! I was one of these, too. In fact, I dedicated a whole blog to the stupidity of the lottery. For starters, read about what really happens to the average Joe when a whole bunch of free money drops into his lap when he never had any. Secondly, this is not a goal. Have a goal that you have some control over, instead of wasting your time dreaming about something so random. Winning the lottery is not the least bit realistic. It’s not even a dream, it’s a fantasy. Do you really want to live your life around a fantasy? Get a job at Disney World. At least you’ll get a real paycheck. Sure, someone has to win those jackpots. But the probability that it’s going to be you are basically zero, and you could end up spending a lot of money trying to make it happen. Think about this, too: having enough money to buy everything your heart desires is a wonderful thought. But just how long is that list of things you want, and do you really need to win millions to satisfy it? I’ll just bet that unless you’re totally greedy and silly you can satiate your needs by going to work every day. And you’ll appreciate what you get more, too!
5. It’s Okay to Slow Down
I understand the unnecessary aspects of speed now. It doesn’t really get you anywhere faster. It makes you crazy and impatient and it puts other people in danger as well as yourself. I talk a lot about the way some people act in their cars. Wrote a blog about that, too!But that’s not the only way to slow down. Are you highly competitive? If you are, why? Do you have the need to be better than other people? I have a groundbreaking idea to suggest: why don’t you just be better than you? Instead of having to bowl other people down in your path? I have friends that go through life trying to do too much too fast, attempting to stuff too many things into too short of a time. How about prioritizing and leaving something for later or another day? How about taking more time to enjoy what you’re doing, and putting a little less time into things you don’t really want to do but feel like you have to do? Part of slowing down is saying “NO” sometimes. I could write a whole blog about that…but won’t right now! I’ll just say this: it’s okay to say no!
6. You Only Have Control Over You
How many times in your life have you tried to control other people? How many times have people tried to control you? If you don’t have control over yourself, you are, inevitably, going to attempt to control someone else. Everyone needs to control someone. (That’s one of my strongest beliefs in life.) Sometimes the need to control comes from envy, from those who see you living a life better than them. They want to bring you down, and they’re called “haters.” Haters rarely have control over their own lives. If they did, they probably wouldn’t be haters and would have something better to do than control someone else. If there are things in your life that you cannot control that you should be able to control, change them. End relationships. Start relationships. Get a new job. Spend less money. Lose weight. All these things are empowering and will do the double deed of scaring away people who want to feed off you.
7. Some People Do Change!
Yes, this one kind of hurts, but sometimes people do change, and you have to accept that they are different. I know this is a really stupid example, but when Guns N’ Roses started touring again a few years back, I couldn’t wait to get tickets. All I heard from friends when I asked them to go with me was what a jerk Axl Rose was, like, two decades ago or more. It really got me thinking how hard it is to live down a reputation. Yet the same ones who don’t let others turn over a new leaf want everyone to accept them when they try to do something new. Jeez, let’s give each other a break! Sure, plenty of people never change and just keep making the same nonsense mistakes over and over again no matter how many chances they have. But that’s not true of everyone. And by the way, Axl Rose is now a consummate professional. Go, Axl!
8. It’s Not That Hard To Be Nice!
Sometimes you’re nice to others and it isn’t very rewarding. Don’t bother with those folks. Just keep walking. But if you say hello, or meet eyes with someone, or smile at strangers, you’d be surprised just how friendly human beings are, and hey, maybe your smile or your hello is the only good thing that has happened to them all day. We tend to forget that we’re all in this race together, we all have problems, we all have feelings. Treat others how you want to be treated. If someone doesn’t treat you like you want to be treated, keep moving. But don’t be afraid to put some genuine goodness out there. Lead with a smile and hope that it’s contagious.
Getting older isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. Not learning from your experiences is.