The Good Old Days—or were they?

Two longtime friends came for chili and conversation last night, women I’ve known since at least the seventies. All of us were once married to doctors. One, like me, is a divorcee, left by a husband who moved on to greener fields without the responsibility of kids; the other was widowed way too young by a heart attack that shouldn’t have happened. Today, we have outlived all three men—there’s a message there, though I’m not sure what it is.

But we talked about those heady days. We were young, happy, with young children—perfect families, we thought. Our husbands were newly out of residencies and in practice, and our lives were filled with camaraderie, conventions, cruises, and more money that any of us had ever known. (Those days are long gone for docs today, a fact I view with mixed emotions.) But as we talked, we recognized that those days weren’t quite as golden as we thought, that there was an undercurrent of tension, the feeling we were in a balloon that could pop at any time. It was an unreal existence, as though we were dancing too hard to keep our fears and doubts at bay. It was good to share.

I often think today’s good times are better. I never remarried because I only met one man who I thought would love my children as much as I did and who I wouldn’t have hesitated to welcome into our close family circle. (I saw too many women who concentrated on having a man in their life to the detriment of their children.) It didn’t work out for other reasons, and I have been single since the early eighties It’s been a great life, and I don’t think I’d trade. Two good careers—one at the TCU Press and one as an author, and a close family that I adore. Yes, I’ve been blessed.

The last few days I’ve been grateful for the blessings of my life, mostly because I had lots of visiting and getting out. One night dinner pal Betty and I went to her restaurant, the Star Café, and shared a tenderloin and baked potato—absolutely wonderful. Last night, my visit with the two friends, plus suddenly there were others in my cottage, carrying their wine—a woman I looked forward to meeting and hope to visit with more another night, and a woman I really like and admire but see infrequently. Today I had lunch with friend Carol, and we discovered at Lucille’s that it’s Lobsterama—a lobster roll and good conversation as I caught up with her recent trip to Australia.

There’s been a long thread on a subgroup of Sisters in Crime about whether you are an extrovert or an introvert. I think, like a lot of people, I’m a mix of the two. But I find being semi-housebound as I am and dependent on others to get out, I am tending more toward introvert. Some days it seems a big effort to gear up and get out, and those are the days I tell myself I need a social life and I need to get out and about. I need to make that effort and not spend the day at my computer in my pajamas. I’m working on not being an introvert, because that’s not how I want to live my life.

No big cocktail parties or cruise ships with six thousand people, thank you. But a quiet lunch or supper with from two to six people? Count me a happy camper. Too much solitude isn’t good for my mental health.

A big oops: I forgot to stand and face east at eleven this morning, in honor of our fallen soldiers. But a flag flew proudly at the foot of our driveway, and I hope each and every one of you remembered to say a prayer for our fallen soldiers, veterans, both those with severe problems and those who seem to have survived relatively unscathed, and those who serve today.

Veterans’ Day and a new adventure

 This morning, in spite of high winds predicted, there was barely a breeze stirring, and the flags we all get through South Side Rotary hung rather limply. Still is was lovely to drive the streets of my neighborhood and see all those flags. Unlike many others, I didn’t post pictures of servicemen—in truth, I’m not sure which uncle served where and when. But I know my father was in the Canadian Army during WWI, that terrible war which produced horror tales of life in the trenches and yet also produced some profoundly beautiful literature, especially poetry. I know that my brother’s father (my mother’s first husband) died of an infection from shrapnel in his jaw or cheek, several years after the injury. Mom always said that a few years later, with the introduction of penicillin, he would have lived. I barely remember much about WWII, but I do remember the Korean War. My brother served as a Navy pilot in the lull just after that war. Like most people, I have a family background of service.

Today my new escort/companion/friend and I had our first adventure together. Amy is a delightful young woman, friendly, outgoing, and a joy to be with. And she’s very helpful to me. We went to the audiologist—a visit I’d been putting off because of getting from car to clinic. It’s amazing what they can do these days—they hang a gadget around my neck and can “read” my hearing aids—how many hours a day I average wearing them, what settings I use, and so on. And Tracy, the audiologist, can change all that from her computer. Amy was particularly fascinated because she is the youngest of four sisters, two of whom were born profoundly deaf. Talk about serendipity. Tomorrow we go to the grocery, another place that’s been hard for me (once I get my hands on a car, I can go like a mad woman), and then I’ll go alone to meet a friend for lunch at a place that’s easily accessible to me—thank heavens, because it’s the deli!

Tonight my regular Wednesday dinner with Betty—but Jacob and Christian joined us, and we had a lively table at the Tavern.

I am feeling more optimistic by the day. I think with Amy helping me, I’m going to get back my self-confidence and independence.

The land of the free

Today we honor service men and women of the past, the present and the future--those who help preserve our country. Sometimes I wonder though what those service people think about a country that asks them to put their life on the line but votes against increasing their benefits, even though many of them are dirt poor after discharge. A country that ignores many of their health needs. A country that pays lip service but little more.

This morning in a blanket email about honoring our veterans, Texas Governor-elect Greg Abbott wrote "America is the brightest beacon of freedom the world has ever known." Empty words. America once was the world's leading nation, a bright beacon of freedom indeed. I don't know when the decline began--it surely wasn't with President Obama or even George W. Bush or Bill Clinton. The roots of our problems go way back, and I will let historians debate that issue.

But today we are beset with so many social problems--the poor and indigent, those without health care, the homeless, low education standards (read any college freshmen papers lately?), low veterans' benefits, environmental concerns that should knock us out of our complacency, and, yes, racism. I'm sure my list left out important things. Oops, of course, a messed-up immigration policy that does not reward hard work and dedication to our country but aims to cause heartbreak to families by separating them.

Look at statistics from other "civilized" countries and even some third world countries. Even our infant mortality rate is higher than it should be. Germany provides free college education for all. Canada's socialized medicine--shhh! don't even whisper it--seems to be working just fine. I know Canadians who would like to move here but won't, can't leave their insurance. We come close to leading the world in the number of executions, when most civilized countries have abolished capital punishment. Choose your cause--there are so many problems in America that most of us don't know where to begin. I admire those people who pick one cause and dedicate themselves to it.

Too many of us think as a lone individual we can't make a difference, just like believing our vote doesn't count. We can and we must.

America can't keep running on glorious sounding empty words.