A quiet Weekend with the birds and butterfly

Today is Sunday, May 24, 2021. 

I spent Saturday cleaning out and throwing away. It seems no matter how much I discard, next week I will have that much and more accumulating on my table surfaces.

I had plans for this weekend. I was going to Lowes and take advantage of the sales of their flowers and plants. My deck garden is rather sad looking at this time, but I know what I want and I just have to go shopping.

deck garden in past years

When I lived in Georgia, by this time of year my azaleas would have bloomed. My hydrangeas would be blooming and all over the woods and fields, I would see wildflowers in many colors. Morning glories climbed on the fences and opened blossoms early in the day. 

In spite of the hot weather down there, spring was always beautiful. My nephew, Gabe, sends me photos he makes and titles them In Paradise. I am glad he loves the family farm where I grew up and that now belongs to him and his brothers.

Sunset on the Council Farm

It was a great place to grow up with all the animals and nature to enjoy. Gay and I played in the barn where the calves were penned, and we loved the kittens that lived in the hayloft. As I reflect on those days, I realize we had a very good life. We felt safe and loved. We had the best mother anyone could ever have and since Gay and I were the babies of the seven children, she kept us close or if we were with our brothers, they knew to keep us safe.

Two little sisters on their way to school

We always had a dog to love. The first one I remember was Fluffy, a small shaggy girl, that we lost when a rabid dog came into the yard and attacked her. I think that was my first experience of the loss of a loved one. 

When we were a bit older, our big sister June was given a gorgeous black cocker spaniel. I am sure that was an expensive dog, but the man who gave him away was going overseas and could not take his pet with him. 

Turbo was the first dog that Mother allowed in the house, and he didn't get to stay long. He became a farm dog, riding in the truck with Daddy and rambling in the woods. His fur matted and filled with burrs, and no one bothered to remove them except Gay and me. We were children who had no idea how to groom the dog. Turbo disappeared one day, and Mother was positive someone took him. If they did, I hope they got all the stickers out of his coat. Our family did not deserve a fine dog like Turbo.

In the early sixties, my brothers built a large swimming pool on the farm. Our family gathered there for picnics, family reunions, and every weekend it didn't rain in summer. Four of the seven of us lived on the land and so did Mother and Daddy.

Now I am making plans as to where I will spend the last part of my life when I can no longer live alone and take care of a home. I hope that time is distant, but I must plan. What will I do with all this stuff I have accumulated? How will I discard what I can no longer use or need?

This weekend has been extremely quiet. My neighbors have sold their home and were gone this weekend so I realized what it will be like for me when they are no longer near me. Strangely, I enjoyed my isolation and wonder if this happened because of being alone for the past year. I am becoming a big fan of total quiet. 

I am enjoying watching the bluebirds that come back every year and watching a small bird build a nest in a decorative gourd I have hanging on my deck.

I captured with my camera a large butterfly that perched on my turtle that glows from the sun.

The butterfly lingered there for a long time. I don't know what kind it is, but it was lovely. I wonder why it didn't light on a flower that was just below. My turtle looks like he is rather surprised, doesn't he?

Have a good week, my friends. Enjoy our newfound freedom, but still be careful. 

Glenda Beall - co-author of Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers, and Fins. Visit her author page on Amazon.com 

We want to be seen, valued and accepted for who we are.

At a crossroads in my life, I am thinking about what I want for my last act.  What do I want to do with my one precious life? Whatever strikes me as useful and valuable.

In 2009, my husband and companion of 45 years passed away. I had to decide: What do I do with my life and who am I now? I opened my writing studio in 2010. It was the most satisfying work I have done since I was in my thirties. I discovered the teacher in me had never gone away, but teaching adults who were happy to be there and who enjoyed being in my classroom exhilarated me.

Bringing good poets and writers from far away to our little town gave me a special joy. Many of our local writers feel they can't travel long distances to attend workshops and conferences in large cities. Writers Circle Around the Table gave them the experience of meeting someone, learning from them and connecting in a way that will be beneficial for the rest of their lives.

A class at Writers Circle around the Table ten years ago

I didn't keep a record of how many students passed through my doors in the past ten years. Some became lasting friends like Barbara Gabriel, who moved across the country and continued with her writing, travel and started a travel blog.  Barbara is a woman who makes a difference wherever she goes. While in our area, she started a Big Sister group. She is smart, interesting and capable of doing what she wants to do.

Ageing is challenging at times. But most of the women I know face problems like taking care of an ill spouse, loss of a loved one, facing their own illness with the wisdom gained over all the years of their lives. My friend, Estelle, in her nineties, is still working on that book about her life she intends to leave for her children. I spent the afternoon with her recently and brought home tidbits of historical knowledge that I can use in writing about my parents, things I had not found on Google.

Another friend who has lived with chronic pain for most of her life and authored a book on the subject, volunteered to facilitate a poetry critique group. She is a well-published poet and is using her knowledge to help others. She has taken on responsibility in her third act that she did not have to accept.

One of my adult students in his seventies has recently become a columnist for his local newspaper. He had never been a writer or journalist before he retired. His articles are creating interest in his county and town, but also from my readers as I publish them on: www.glendacouncilbeall.com
His most recent post was on the Birth of the Constitution.  One reader said it should be published in a large publication where more people would read it.

While this country is obsessed with youth, their music, their morals or lack of, their clothes and all the new technology, women and men in their seventies and older are stepping out and proving that age is not a stop sign on the road of life. No one wants to be discounted because of age. They know they have grown better with age. Most of us finally feel free to pursue our dreams and be our best selves, like one of my favorite people who loves to dance and now in her seventies, she is dancing three times each week and has been asked to participate in a program where she will do 25 dances in one day. And she dances in heels! Wow!!

Hilary Clinton, age 71, and her daughter have collaborated on a book about Gutsy Women. Chelsea used a computer but Hilary wrote in long hand. Together they accomplished a highly praised book I want to read. We can not let technology hold us back. Even younger people are frustrated with much of what we are supposed to know about technology. Some young people cannot read cursive writing. That is a handicap to my way of thinking. They are having to learn or struggle with the failure of what our school system imposed on them.

Adult children sometimes try to put their ageing parents in a box. They have preconceived ideas that an older person's ideas are no longer relevant or important. They shame their mothers and treat them like children. That really angers me.

In a recent post Maria Shriver said older women she interviewed said they feel more confident as they age, and they would not go back to their younger selves if they could. I feel the same way. Life after fifty has been the best part of my life. I would never want to go back to the shy, insecure and fearful person of my youth.

"It’s a privilege to use your voice on behalf of things you care about, no matter the stage of life." I believe Shriver's words are true. I find myself speaking up and using my voice on behalf of things that are important to me,   and I will continue to do so as long as I can.

Do you find that you speak up more as you age? Is your third or last act what you want it to be?

On Ageing and still making a difference

Jane Fonda is often criticized by others for what she did when she was a very young activist who wanted to end the Vietnam War. She has apologized over and over for the photo made and published at the time.

But she is now an octogenarian. Like many of us, she has earned a great deal of wisdom just by living her life.

I enjoyed reading her post on her blog about turning 80.

https://www.janefonda.com/2017/12/the-new-year-and-being-80/

If you are an older person, I think you will relate to the good and the bad things about ageing. If you are young, pay attention and learn from what she says.

Fonda is funny and serious about turning 80 and about what she fears for our country. She will be an activist until she draws her last breath, I'm sure. 

I feel as she does about the state of our United States and the world, but I just don't have the energy she does to keep up the fight. I have to let others do that. I hope our younger men and women will wake up to what is happening to us before it is too late to make the necessary changes. 

Will those running on the Democratic ticket be able to convince enough Americans of what this country needs to change and to do to keep our democracy? I hope so. Even stanch conservatives I know say they will vote for anyone who can get the present man out of the Oval Office. Maybe that will help turn things around. 
I am grateful we have Jane Fonda and others who beat the drum and never run out of steam as they cry for human rights, for equality for all, for the downtrodden and those who sometimes need just a helping hand. We all know what is needed, but we must vote for someone who will do what is needed. 

What do you think about ageing? What about activism? What do you think our future holds?

What is Elderspeak? Why it should not be used.

Recently I attended a birthday party for a friend and during our conversation I mentioned that I hate it when staff in doctor's offices or other places use elderspeak with me. What is elderspeak, I was asked.

Elderspeak is the vocabulary and speaking voice used when speaking to an older person, usually over 65.
"Come with me, Sweetie."
"Sweetheart, let's take your blood pressure now."
"Darlin', you look so pretty today."

Should this woman be spoken to as if she is five years old?

I know the person using this language is not trying to make me feel bad, but it raises my ire to be talked to like I am five years old. We have three stages in life--childhood, middle age, and old. Just because one is old doesn't mean they have regressed to childhood in mental state.

Studies in older people, even those with dementia, have found that when elder speak is used it has a very negative, even damaging, effect on them.

To me, it seems to be an effort to strip me of my authority over myself. It is a method of controlling me and my thoughts about myself. I prefer Mrs. Beall or I accept Miss Glenda as respect for me due to age. But what is wrong with calling me Glenda just as they did when I was forty years old?

Elderspeak conveys sympathy for my age. I don't need anyone's sympathy because of my age. I am enjoying my life abundantly, and wish the staff people and doctor's took the time to learn why I am happy and enjoying my life instead of seeing me as a person with health problems who has one foot on a banana peeling.

Unknown mother and daughter enjoying each other's company

Of course the people who use elderspeak are young. Even the doctors are much younger than I. As one doctor told me, "I have no way of understanding what you are going through since I have never been your age. I won't understand until I reach your age."

Older doctors, like my cardiologist, call me by my name. I think office staff usually just don't want to take the time to check names when they are in a hurry. 

That is why I write abut it. I try to let others know what I think and what I want. My hair dresser calls me Miss Glenda, which I don't mind. It has always been a southern way to show respect to our elders. But in medical offices, they have my name on my folder, or my records. Why not call me Glenda, or Mrs. Beall? I will answer to anything but Dear, Sweetie, Honey, Sweetheart, or Darling.

The following article from www.agingcare.com has some great advice for caregivers or people who work with older people. This is important for younger adults who have parents they help care for or need to get help for in the future. Don't wait until you need to know.

https://www.agingcare.com/Articles/elderspeak-damage-older-adults-health-175155.htm?utm_source=Newsletter&utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=Newsletter%20-%20October%2027,%202018&acst=7d6a3712-3f51-48da-a6d5-d3702d89706e&key=1d2051ac-e579-4335-9bd0-57ae4dccffa1&mkt_tok=

There is a difference in growing older and growing older with limitations.

Just when I feel I have come to terms with ageing, it hits me in the face like a cold wet towel. I picture myself growing old but independent, driving where I want to go, spending time doing things I enjoy like writing and teaching. I see myself becoming my aunts who lived to be in their late 90s, but took care of themselves for the most part.

Having this pain that inhibits my walking has made me see things differently. I find it too difficult to stand in my kitchen and cook or clean up when I am done. I didn't expect to have this experience.

Being immobilized is more difficult than I thought it would be. I find myself mulling over whether it is necessary to go downstairs or if I can wait and make one trip serve all my purposes. When I take pain medicines, I become sleepy, and can't think straight. I certainly can't create anything new.

My older sister became disabled in her later years. She had to have help to stand, to go to the bathroom and needed help getting ready for bed and into bed each evening. I understand now how much she must have hated needing someone to push her in a wheelchair or having to ask someone to bring her a glass of water. I admire her more than ever because she never complained. She spoke as if she had hope that she would walk one day. Tears fill my eyes now as I think of her optimism. I think it wasn't until she fell and broke her hip that she realized she was not going to get well.

She was fortunate to have a husband who adored her. He waited on her and never seemed to resent it at all. Perhaps that would make it bearable, having that someone who would do anything for you. Her daughters and my sister, Gay, were also available most of the time to care for her and just to be with her.

I understand her saying to me that she was ready to go. She never said she wanted to die, but felt It was time she should pass on. She was more concerned about the ones she was leaving behind.  At 87, she felt she had lived a long life and the future was not going to get better and she did not want to linger in a nursing home. I understand now.

If I become dependent on others to take care of me all the time, I would not want to continue with life. Quality of life is more important than quantity, I believe. That is why I strongly believe in having the choice of when I want to die, to have my opinion respected if or when I have no more quality left in my future years.

From my library of books, I pulled out one that I have had a long time. When I am an Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple, edited by Sandra Haldeman Martz, published by Paper Mache Press in 1981. My friend, Janice Townley Moore's poem, "I know the Mirrors" is in the book. Here is a small piece of the poem.

I know the mirrors that are friends,
the ones in semi-darkness that hide
the hard crease of jowl,
or the ones with the correct distance
to fade the barbed wire fence
above the lips....


The title of the book comes from this poem:
Warning
by
Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
...
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.


The book is described as "a valuable anthology. It paints a rich picture of women as they age."
And "It is a touching tender collection of writings about being old and loving the old."

The late Bettie Sellers,  Poet Laureate of Georgia and professor at Young Harris College has a poem included: "A Letter From Elvira." This is a humorous poem.

You might think the book is all poetry, but it is not. The prose pieces are just as meaningful and interesting. I think I will go upstairs now and read some of them tonight.