Have Suitcase, Will Travel or Maybe Not

Lately, I've been working hard and vacationing some. Still, I am aware that as with many of you, I need a better balanced daily life. I eat fairly well, exercise, faithfully (well pretty faithfully) attend my yoga and Pilates classes, have a great masseuse and sporadically meditate and work out with a trainer. So what's wrong with this picture?

When I was younger I had the opportunity to spend time in quiet spiritual retreats spanning a variety of eastern and western leanings. I have an insatiable travel gene and at times in my life I would have said "have suitcase packed, will travel." But, new needs are emerging. Is my priority to get on a plane to a distant land not yet visited or would a spa or even a retreat - perhaps a Zen retreat for 10 days of silence - be preferable? As I sage, these competing desires continue to call. Long ago I accepted that my own character was fairly intense. Perhaps it's genetic, environmental, familial, who knows? I've reached the s(t)age where I am less interested in explanations than living well within my own skin.

So, I invite you to journey with me as I sort out my variation of the same issues so many FiftyandFurthermores have. Yes, I loved my recent visit to Argentina and Buenos Aires, and there are so many places to see, but perhaps staying still watching the water from my own home might serve me better? Whatever path one takes at any given time is a prelude to next steps. Join me as I take mine, one slow step at a time.

Every Year is a Gift

My birthday was August 2nd. Usually I love birthdays and enjoy marking them for others, as well as myself. This one, though, seemed neither here nor there. 67 wasn't a biggie, on the way to 70, and how did I get here anyway? I didn't sleep well several nights prior to the big day. Dreams, thoughts and concerns wafted through my active unconscious, letting me know I was not at ease. Although I am excited by life-affirming possibilities, my very human worries surfaced. Did I need to revisit my will? Was my family OK? Would my own health checkups return good reports? Was I doing enough for others? Too much? Would the new book that I'm writing continue to flow? My husband needs a new car. Should I bug him to buy the hybrid that I thought wise for both us and for the environment? Or should I encourage him to purchase the gas guzzler that I knew he wanted? Who would win the election?

Large and small concerns ebbed and flowed into one another - all, I'm sure, part of an underlying scream that emerged as death's door opened just that much wider. The big day came and unexpected calls, emails, cards and yes, gifts arrived. Although still in my "this is not a big deal birthday mode," I appreciated acknowledgments, well wishes and the friendship and love that came my way. But, deep down, I wasn't my usual celebratory self. Until

My husband and I went out for the quiet dinner we had planned. We happen to have a wine locker at several restaurants including The Capital Grill in Jacksonville. Last week they called and invited us to have dinner there on my birthday. That's not uncommon for a restaurant to do when one is a frequent patron. I thought nothing of it. NOTHING! It seemed as good as anything we might do except maybe staying home relaxing on our porch and enjoying the view.

Then they didn't have our usual promised table. I shrugged. So what? And as I was gently guided into a lovely special room, brain dead and totally without a clue, Happy Birthday wishes engulfed me sung by many of my Florida friends. I, who am rarely speechless, was. Tears came. This was the first surprise party of my life. I looked questioningly at my husband still implying "but this particular birthday is no big deal." Lovingly he looked at me. "Hon, henceforth, every day is a celebration. Every day we look in the mirror and see ourselves is special and every year is a gift."

Amen.

Pets Can Save Lives for FiftyAndFurthermores

Yesterday, Marjorie, who is 68 and one of my assistants, came to work sharing a remarkable story. She lives in the country surrounded by land and fresh air. However, she is also isolated from close neighbors. Three years ago she had taken in a stray cat. She named him Morris and they were good companions. Marjorie lives alone near her children and grandchildren and likes where she lives. She is a healthy, active and savvy lady who knows how to take care of herself. Half asleep she noticed that Morris seemed restless. Thinking nothing of it, she turned over to go to sleep. Morris jumped on her bed. Surprised and sensing something amiss she got up. Everything seemed normal and quiet. Back to bed she went. Again, Morris seemed unsettled. Again she got up. She heard nothing but looked out the window anyway and thought she saw a shadow moving, but again thought nothing of it. Morris paced again. Suddenly she heard a window crash. Someone was trying to break in. She screamed, called her daughter who lives nearby and dialed the police. The intruder ran and Marjorie, except for shaking from a bad scare and an extra dose of vulnerability was fine. The would-be intruder wasn't caught and she came to work having escaped a close call. Morris had saved her.

Now, we are all relatively familiar with the fact that dogs are known to protect their loved owners. But cats are generally considered to be less protective. Evidently cats too have territorial instincts. At least Morris does. We talked about the current literature that confirms that pets help keep older people alive. They offer companionship and structure as their needs must be met. Larger dogs also require walking which helps provide exercise to their owners. But a cat that saves lives, that is a bit unusual. I found myself wondering if I should make stronger recommendations to my FiftyAndFurthermore clients who live alone to become pet owners.

As my now grown children have left home, so have our pets, all passing from old age. My kids have wanted me to have new ones. My grown children worry about me and are well-aware of the benefits of pets for seniors. Because I travel as much as I do, I have chosen to remain animal-free. But perhaps this is not the best decision after all?

As our society becomes more isolated, pets have gained prominence. I do miss our last two residents dearly (Mr. Lucy, our final cat, and Bibi, our dog). But perhaps it's more than simply companionship and I'm in a bit of denial? What if it's more important to realize that having a smart four legged companion really could save my life?

The John Edwards Affair - A Couples Issue

Extra marital affairs in American society are far more common than any of us like to admit. Some surveys have found that as many as 40% of married women and 60% of married men engage in extramarital affairs. The fact that John Edwards had an affair is not of particular interest to me. As a psychologist, I live in a world of secrets. And yes, even people's outright lies. Lack of authenticity is often fodder for an individual's pain. Helping couples mend or dissolve damaged marriages is much of what I do on a daily basis. Thus, for me, the most cogent issue is not what the affair says about this public man, but what it says about this public couple. The Edwards jointly chose to have John run for America's highest office. In this day and age of political paparazzi, the fact that neither of them considered that information about their relationship and their affair would become public knowledge well, that's representative of the couple's dynamics.

The Edwards have endured a very public ordeal surrounding the death of their son and Elizabeth's battle with incurable cancer. I believe that, in many ways, their 31-year marriage is based on old fashioned Southern values. These marriages are stereotypically filled with denial and the ability to look the other way when confronted with unwelcome facts. Often these marriages also take pride in having super human strength in the face of adversity. Living with no matter what can be an attempt to gain admiration. It can also be a defense against standing still and experiencing pain on a deeper level. In this case, given their endless public pursuit of "carrying on," I am left wondering if their marriage might be primarily reflect the latter.

I neither condone nor condemn the affair. However, I do make a strong argument for couples and families in trouble seeking therapy. I am not privy to whether or not the Edwards ever sought professional help. However, in my view, it would be wise for any family who has been through the death of a child to seek counseling. I also believe that the structure of almost all long term marriages is subject to change and, at various points, marriages need to be renegotiated. Clearly, as loving a couple as the Edwards may be, they are both responsible and have colluded, not necessarily in the affair, but in their willingness to jointly open their lives to the public scrutiny while at the same time knowingly acting in ways that undermine their credibility.

I honor Elizabeth Edwards' request that helicopters stop flying over their home. However, one cannot intentionally seek public office without anticipating that dirty linen will emerge. From a psychologist's perspective, I wonder if their mutual pain was so deep that the only way they could confront it was to risk a public viewing. By subconsciously inviting the public into their most private life, they must confront dark corners in their own lives as well as in their marriage, although one has to wonder what would possess a couple to do so in the harsh glare of the public eye?

I believe that in order to have an intimate, growing marriage, most couples have to confront unwanted issues at some point in their relationship. In that way the Edwards are no exception only their issues are more obvious than many.

Mad Men Is Not The Sopranos For Me

Well, after fighting it, and ignoring the show for one entire year, I followed the hype and settled down determined to become a fan of AMC's Mad Men. I liked it well enough and the tales were familiar to me. After all, it's an era I know. But mostly, I was slightly bored.

I think that although I related to the both the times and the characters, my own life has developed into so many new spins, that I became a bit restless with what had been. No, it wasn't painful to watch the past. It was simply long distant for me to much care. However, I wished my grown kids could see it (I'm doubtful that they would sit through the program) to understand an era they don't truly comprehend. They have no way of understanding the life their parents lived and the freedom of choice the current generation has as a result of the emancipation from those years. I'm slightly disappointed, but not so much that I won't try again. Who knows, the slow pace may manage to lure me in. So far, HBO's interaction and psychology programs remain my favorites (The Sopranos, Tell Me You Love Me, and In Treatment). For my personality, they hit a bull's eye.

Tomorrow Begins A New Today

I had a lousy couple of weeks before and after I got away for a vacation in Argentina where I had a blast (see my blog Too Old To Tango? Think Again ). The before and after part included computer glitches (hard for someone who pours herself into a website), staff and family illness, as well as loss of key staff members. I was reminded of some of those long-ago days when I was a multi-tasking, sometimes overwhelmed single working Mom. Wisdom, luxury and help be damned. Clawing through "administrivia," negotiating contracts, caring about staff under duress and taking care of ill family members is never easy - even though I sometimes forgot it can happen again and again.



Life can be slippery and bumpy at any stage or age. At this age, sleep beckoned and was needed more than in my youth. To put it mildly, it's been one helluva not fun time. However, I look around at the wonderful summer fresh air, watch my tiny herb garden grow, and go to yoga to breathe, relax and help get the kinks out of my body. I remember some of the good parts of having perspective as a result of living long enough to go through the downs and ups. I can begin to see light at the end of the tunnel and tonight I go to sleep remembering: Tomorrow Begins A New Today.



Oh, and in a few weeks, I plan to take some quiet healing spiritual time in a Zen monastery. Dear fellow FiftyandFurthermores, what a gift Saging has given me - to feel free enough to live at both ends of the spectrum. This summer I will have vacationed in the city some call the Paris of the Western Hemisphere, as well as quietly soaked up the tranquility of the East. I haven't enjoyed the chaos surrounding these vastly different vacations, but I am grateful to have the opportunity to reward myself for a job well done.

Gloucester Pregnancy Pact

This past June the media was buzzing about the Gloucester, Massachusetts, high school girls who may (or may not have) made a pact to become pregnant together. Seventeen girls in total are pregnant, more than quadruple the typical number of pregnancies in a class per year. Some are blaming movies like Juno and Knocked Up for their portrayal of young unmarried mothers. Personally, I loved Juno because it was such a real life, down to earth, yet sweet movie about the things in life that we can't predict.

School officials in Gloucester are wavering from their original statements that the young girls made a pact to raise their children together. Some people are wondering if it's because this particular town has absentee parents that don't chaperone their sons' and daughters' all-night adventures. The small fishing town has been through a rough patch lately due to unemployment and economic hard times. Some residents and media are saying that these kids are not well-loved enough and are on their own' so often that they are looking to have babies for someone to love them back.' Others are claiming that in this Catholic town, perhaps the rates of pregnancy are not increasing, but rather the rates of abortion are decreasing as pregnant girls are receiving more and more support for having their babies. Gloucester High School offers on-site day care and a supportive school environment that allows the girls to be mothers and also get their high school diploma at the same time. The school hallways are flooded with students shuffling along with pom-poms, sports equipment, backpacks, and baby carriages. Or is this something that could happen anywhere in the Age of Nicole Richie, Brittney Spears, and even Brittney's 17-year-old sister Jamie Lynn? Maybe it has more to do with Realty TV and People Magazine messages than one town's struggles?

No matter what the cause of this supposed pregnancy pact, teen pregnancy is nothing new. In my day, girls were sent away to have their baby in private facilities. Grandma raised the baby as their own, only to release the secret years later to the family (or have the secret stumbled upon). Back alley, hanger-induced abortions were more common because safe medical care was often not an option. Doctors that dared to participate often went to jail. For young teenage mothers who had their babies and were public about it, well, many of them did the right thing and wed the guy, whether he was a one-nighter or a significant relationship. My generation knows all too well how poorly many of these marriages worked out.



Times change. But as the saying goes, what goes around comes around. Many grandparents are once again becoming new parents as they raise their children's children. If you have the energy, resources and inclination for this, great. But how many of us really would choose this when we've already raised our brood? Besides, many of the grandparents I know are busy with their own lives and also have the responsibility of monitoring their own or a significant other's illness.

Do I really want to deal with peanut allergies, complicated car seats, soy milk, in-car DVD's, X-Boxes, and piles and piles of plastic toys on a daily basis? Not me. I love being a grandma who has gotten to spoil my grandchildren rotten by taking them traveling, to ball games and especially doing something my wonderful kids would never do like let them stay up past bedtime playing poker. I'd much rather be a support staff grandma than a primary caretaker. How much easier to wonder about the Gloucester girls than to stay up past my bedtime fretting about what my own teenager might be doing. Been there, done that.

How many of you are, or know, a grandparent who is raising their grandchildren? What do you think about the Gloucester pregnancy pact? Sound off with your comments.