You don’t have the right clothes

Never one to worry about fashion, I didn’t think much when someone told me I didn’t have the right clothes. We weren’t talking about couture for a high-society event; we were talking about everyday wear for life in New Hampshire.

That conversation took place many years ago, when I relocated for a new job. I was moving from the Philadelphia area, which certainly has snow and ice and other winter hazards. Still, I was totally unprepared for the cold and intensity of a New England winter. My friend was right. I didn’t have the right clothes.

What saved me was a shopping spree that included a full-length down-filled coat, fleece hats and mittens, long scarves, long underwear, wool socks, and warm boots.

What reminded me of this scenario was helping my Florida-based mother prepare for her first winter trip up north in several decades.

We both kept repeating the same mantra: layers, layers, layers. Yet our interpretations were completely different. It’s not unusual in winter for me to wear a camisole under a turtleneck under a sweater. And that’s indoors, where the thermostat is set at 66 degrees.

When my mother arrived up north at my brother’s house and put on her layers – basically a tissue-paper tank top under tissue-paper blouse under tissue-paper overblouse – she still shivered. She also fought our attempts to wrap her in a Carhartt hoodie and pashmina scarf, but the added warmth was too alluring. When we went outside, she protested against the woolen mittens because they clashed with her coat, but I noticed they stayed glued to her frozen fingers.

I was concerned the blast of frigid air would dissuade her from plans of moving up north to be closer to family, but so far she’s been a trooper. We’ve dragged her from model apartment to model apartment, and while we haven’t found her next new home, the door is still open to the search.

There’s nothing to be done about the cold of winter but to dress appropriately. And when the time comes, we’ll see to it that my mother has the right clothes.

Cloud cover isn’t picture perfect

There’s my granddad. Up on the ledge. Legs hanging over. Nearest the American flag. Watching Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower in what remains the largest parade in New York City’s history, in June 1945. Celebrating Germany’s surrender in World War II.

I found this picture while combing through old photo albums with my mother. On the back, my grandmother had written a sweet note to her son, my father, who was then serving in the Navy.

My friend is on a similar search for family history. He recently emailed about an upcoming trip to visit an aunt in Florida. “I'm taking a sharpie so she can identify people in her photo albums.”

With photo albums on my mind, I started sorting through my own stash. I removed photos from the “magnetic” albums, where a clear plastic overlay sticks to the page…and, as I found out, also discolors and damages the photos. But I have thousands of photos – from wallet size to 11 x 14 prints – stored in drawers and boxes and photo sleeves. They span my early explorations with cameras right up until I grew bored with snapping the same family celebrations, year after year after year.

Then digital cameras and, even better, smartphones became the tool to use. Where are these pictures stored? In my computer. On CDs. Saved on USB drives. A few uploaded to the cloud.

As I replied to my friend with the sharpie: It’s hard to think digital photos will ever have as much impact as stumbling across the Eisenhower photo. It's too easy to tuck them away in digital storage. “Will next generations take the time to search?”

His short answer: “No.” I think he’s right. While digital photos are certainly searchable, you often don’t know what you’re looking for – or at. And out of sight is certainly out of mind.

Nothing beats sitting shoulder to shoulder on a couch, flipping through pages to reveal long-gone relatives, while teasing out stories of days past. Huddling around a computer (or notepad or other electronic device) just isn’t the same. There are no charming handwritten notes on the back. And one bad swipe, missed click, or timeout and my tech-adverse mother loses interest. 

She still has my late father's computer, on which there are lots of family photos, but she never turns it on. If we want her to see the latest photos, we email them to the local Walgreens, which prints them out and calls her to pick them up.

She only keeps the computer around so my siblings and I can print out boarding passes when we visit. And for that small favor, I am grateful.

Good people, ideas, and writings

Readers of this blog will notice a range of topics presented. No singular theme. No specific point of view. Just ideas or writings I want to share.

If they originate somewhere else, fine. If the author is someone I know and respect, all the better. Following are excerpts of recent posts from three people I know personally, follow faithfully, and admire tremendously.

1) Roderick Carey
Educational researcher, writer, and teacher educator

Reviving Hope in Troubling Times: Ferguson and the Futures of Black Boys

"Right now, Ferguson is top of the news cycle. Reports focus on visuals that attract viewers, and it's the stereotypical stuff: low-income blacks shouting angry slogans or protesting in the streets. Viewers, listeners and readers are left to make sense and meaning of Michael Brown, of Officer Wilson, and of Ferguson.
 
"Let's not fall into the trap of accepting what the media shows us. Let's look beyond these images to revive hope that things can change. Let's look beyond individuals, to the structures and systems within which they work. Let's lift our critique off of people and onto the cultural norms that strike fear in individuals such that they view black boys as heinous criminals instead of promising youths deserving of attention, love, and opportunities."

2) Hunter Clarke-Fields, MSAE, RYT   
Hunter Yoga

6 Steps to Bring Peace to the Table this Holiday

"When families get together, we bring lots of baggage with us. We bring old habits. We bring our stories and expectations for the other people. We bring defensiveness.

"It can be a stressful time to say the least.
 
"But it doesn’t have to be. We have enormous power to change the dynamic. We can participate in the status quo or we can become part of the change."

3) Paul Wilke
Founder/CEO, Upright Position Communications

Netfunning: 12 Trusty Networking Tips

"Networking. You either love it or you hate it. Actually, that’s not true…it’s more Yoda-ish than that. It’s more a case of, “Do or do not. There is no try”. Just because it isn't called netfunning, doesn't mean it has to be a chore."

Each post reflects a different interest. And each one interests me in a different way. To read the full posts, or to find out more about each person, follow the links above.

How old are you now?

One day I see a rack of birthday cards for 100-year-olds. The next day I’m at a one-year-old’s birthday party. Talk about polar opposites.

I didn’t used to think about age much. But when a great grandniece entered our family last November, pictures were shared each month to mark her growth from tiny baby to little girl.

My mother never celebrated her age, preferring to keep it secret. When she found herself in the hospital one night, the nurse asked for her birthday. “July 3,” my mother said. “What year?,” the nurse pressed. To which my mother replied: “Every year.”

I get her point. Too many people associate numerical age with preconceptions. Years ago, I saw an ophthalmologist who, after asking my age, immediately recommended bifocals. He hadn’t even examined my eyes. He is now my ex-ophthalmologist.

When I had Maddie, my spotty dog, people would always ask her age. Whatever I answered, the number would elicit a shake of the head as if age told all. After Maddie hit double-digits, she would turn her back when passersby asked her age. Neither of us wanted to hear the stories that were sure to come about their old pets and when they passed.

I’ll admit I’m getting a little touchy about my age. It’s not that I mind the years; I just mind the influx of junk mail trying to lure me into “lifestyle” communities for independent living. Or mailings about prescription drugs I surely should be taking. Or special offers for medical equipment. 

How fair is that when my deceased mother-in-law is still getting catalogs for river cruises?

They say age is only a number, but it’s a number too many people use as proxy for an individual. I may be showing my age, but the reality is I’m as young as I’ll ever be.