Stronger Together: In honor of my friend Olivia

Posted on October 16, 2016 by sheilawill

We come from the era before selfies. Me and my dear friend Olivia, who turns 70 in a few weeks (I beat her by a few months).

From promoting kids’ books and reading to little ones, to supporting our now grown sons, to sharing insights about aging, we always have plenty to talk about.

She calls me Mama Bear. I think of her as The Wise one, The Truthful One. We’ve been friends for more than 25 years.

Although we don’t see each other often, she has always been there for me. I hope the same is true of me.

It was spring 2000 when Olivia visited me in Tucson. I had only been here for a few months. What did we know? We took off on a strenuous hike in the Catalinas. It was too late and too hot. Around halfway up to Romero Pools, I was sun struck. Scared, I sat under a tree. Olivia scrambled ahead to see how much farther it was to the top. She asked somebody for more water.

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But I felt safe because I was with my friend. We survived.

Olivia and I have shared hard times and good. We both received A Spirit of ABC Award (Association of Children’s Booksellers) in the late 1990s, when I closed my children’s bookstore and she sold her business.

Olivia is now the grandmother of two little boys. I’ll be the grandmother of a little boy in early 2017. I ask her what it’s like. She shares stories with me.

And she never forgets my birthday! Here’s the story-of-our-friendship bowl she created for my 60th. It means so much to me.img_3233

Olivia is a consummate artist, a quilter, a Tibetan Buddhist teacher and practitioner.

“Breathe,” she’s suggested  to me more than once, reminding me of my own power. But she doesn’t hesitate to speak up when she disagrees with me.

Olivia has an incredibly generous heart. How many years did she spend collecting pieces of fabric to create a magnificent quilt to raffle off in support of the AIDS Foundation (or was it another of the organizations she passionately supports?).

Olivia doesn’t give up on anybody or anything she cares about. Doing her best. Being genuine.

If Olivia’s afraid she still plows forward, always ready for new  growth.

14708150_381622788844846_7676546149132222372_nIf anyone knows that we’re stronger together, it’s Olivia.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Baby Boomers, Family Matters, Fight wimpiness, Old friends | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Getting older, and older…

Posted on September 10, 2016 by sheilawill

I hope to live to a ripe old age. Watching the end in sight for a 91-year-old family member isn’t easy, but it’s instructive. Yes, she’s got all her paperwork in order. She can pay for an assisted living space, but she’s still unprepared.

She’s incredibly weak, has no memory, and I’ve heard her say she doesn’t want to live anymore.

I’d guess that very few people are emotionally prepared to die. Turning 70 is a wake-up call. Would I be able to off myself if I totally lost it? I have no idea. I won’t know till the time comes. Would I have preparations made for that possibility? I’m not there yet.

Back in Maine, I recall talking with dear women friends about living in a house together when our spouses or partners are gone. Hanging out on our rocking chairs, repeating our old stories, embellishing them, and surely forgetting parts. We would have a nurse in residence who would hang out with us, either on the porch overlooking the ocean, or indoors by the fire.

What a lovely idea. If I live to a ripe old age — longevity doesn’t run in my family — I want to be with people I care about. And I don’t want my children and/or grandchildren to be burdened with my care. So it’s time to start planning. Bear with me, it’s not all morose.

There’s also the upside of enjoying every little thing as we age. I feel it. No more need to feel pride at my accomplishments, care what I wear, or overly worry about which words I use.

Kate Barnes, the first poet laureate of Maine, says it well.

Future Plans
by Kate Barnes

When I am an old, old woman I may very well be
living all alone like many another before me
and I rather look forward to the day when I shall have
a tumbledown house on a hill top and behave
just as I wish to. No more need to be proud—
at the tag end of life one is at last allowed
to be answerable to no one. Then I shall wear
a shapeless felt hat clapped on over my white hair,
sneakers with holes for the toes, and a ragged dress.
My house shall be always in a deep-drifted mess,
my overgrown garden a jungle. I shall keep a crew
of cats and dogs, with perhaps a goat or two
for my agate-eyed familiars. And what delight
I shall take in the vagaries of day and night,
in the wind in the branches, in the rain on the roof!
I shall toss like an old leaf, weather-mad, without reproof.
I’ll wake when I please, and when I please I shall doze;
whatever I think, I shall say; and I suppose
that with such a habit of speech I’ll be let well alone
to mumble plain truth like an old dog with a bare bone.
“Future Plans” by Kate Barnes from Where the Deer Were. © David R. Godine, 1994. Reprinted with permission (From “Writer’s Almanac”).

If you’ve read this far, here’s the fun part: Watch this and smile.

If I live to be 90 — and don’t have to pick up dog poop — I’d love to have a husky puppy!

 

 

 

 

Posted in Baby Boomers, Family Matters, Mount Desert Island/Maine, Nature Girl | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

I’m curious about a lot of stuff…

Posted on September 7, 2016 by sheilawill

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Does my desk show that I’m curious, or sentimental, or a habitual collector, or is this photo too dark to see any of my tchotchkes (trinkets)? There’s a small ceramic head that my son made in 1st grade. There’s a cheery vase with hearts on it that says Grandma, which I bought for a quarter at a thrift shop last week.

“Be Happy. It is a way of being wise” is the message on a greeting card that my daughter once sent to me. My daughter-in-law sent a card last year with “I’d hike anywhere with you,” along with a copy of “Big Magic. Creative Living beyond Fear” by Elizabeth Gilbert. A painting of Howard Zinn on the front of The Americans Who Tell the Truth card series stares back at me, along with souvenirs from my recent trip to the other side of the world: a tiny hand-painted vase I got in Antalya, Turkey; a pencil sharpener from the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice, Italy; and a mini Buddha candle that came from somewhere.

When I was a kid growing up in Connecticut, I always asked my father if that was Texas over that next hill in the distance. I can’t remember if he humored me and said that it was. I’ve been to Texas many times since, but I still want to go to Big Bend national Park and Marfa.

I’ve hiked in Sabino Canyon many times over the last 15 years I’ve lived in Tucson. Still, I wonder what’s beyond the too-tall mountain peaks I’ll never climb at 70.

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As I get older, I’ve decided that my curiosity will keep me going (maybe I’m just nosey).

Last Saturday, walking up the Sabino Canyon road, I caught snippets of conversations.

“Hell, she reported on the life cycle of the nose, of all damn things,” one woman told her friend.

I also heard, “I’m so happy for her” and “I parked there all last year because I was always late for church.” Or this, “No one in our career has ever used that process.”

Nothing thrilling. But hell, what were they talking about? I had to know, until I heard the next snippet and was distracted.

For me, every day is a balance of focusing on my desk work, imagining what’s going on beyond my own life, and doing something social. Now we know that avoiding loneliness is a positive predictor for a long, healthy life. Also, I must look at something miraculously beautiful.

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Turning 70…by plane, by car, by boat, and on my own two feet (part 3)

Posted on August 31, 2016 by sheilawill

Determined to not be on planes and in airports nonstop, I studied a map of Europe. The ultimate goal of “Sheila’s Excellent Adventure” was to visit Ethan and Steph in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan (Watch for my story in the November issue of Desert Leaf).

I had six flights in and out of Istanbul. Venice was only a two-hour flight. Italy was high on my travel list and I had never set foot in the land of delicious food and wine, art and history.

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A selfie taken in front of the Doge’s Palace in Piazza San Marco, which was packed with people walking around with selfie sticks. Were they seeing what was around them? 

I loved getting lost walking Venice’s maze of streets, sipping on frequent glasses of $3 Prosecco (the best bargain), admiring the distinctive buildings. But it was way too crowded. And it was late May, not even summer yet.

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My evening spot close to the hotel, so I wouldn’t get lost. I wrote at this perfect little desk, watching people who knew where they were going walk by.

While I’m on the subject of food…breakfast at the homey Hotel Alla Fava included freshly squeezed carrot/orange juice, homemade honey/wheat croissants and coffee cakes primped by the in-house baker. And of course, my choice of cappuccino, latte, or espresso.

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The Peggy Guggenheim Collection called to me with its incredible view, its Magritte paintings, and a peek into a life of elegance and upper-class privilege, so unlike my own.

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Front door of Peggy’s former home looks out at the Grand Canal

Wait. a. minute. I. was. in. Venice.  Magic land. I did it. I was so proud of myself!IMG_2756

Still, I needed more quiet, fewer people. So I hopped on a boat to the outer islands for a day, which made me feel at home. I spent three nights in Venice before setting out across the Atlantic, back to Boston where Dan would pick me up and we would head to Southwest Harbor for two months.

Since I’ve been home I’m often struck by how places remind me of other places. Take a calming boat ride in Venice, or catch the ferry to Little Cranberry Island behind my house in Maine. My trip made me feel more a part of the whole big world. I like that.

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Bye bye Venice! 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Fight wimpiness, Food/happy hours, The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Turning 70…by plane, by boat, by car, and on my own two feet (part 1)

Posted on August 19, 2016 by sheilawill

kas1Lounging by the Mediterranean in Kas, Turkey.

I left my home in Tucson, Arizona, on May 3. Since our return to Tucson this week, so many friends have asked, “Where exactly did you go?”

First, three days in Boston, my old stomping ground. Then on to Turkey, where I flew from Istanbul to Antalya to visit friends.  We saw incredible ancient ruins. We hung out at the gorgeous Boegenville hotel in Kas for three days.

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And Greece was so close. How could I pass up ferrying over to the small island of Kastelorizo for a quick visit?

This photo — taken on Kastelorizo — may look like a cover on Conde Nast Traveler, but I took it with my iPhone. Snoozing on those chairs was perfect after a mid-afternoon fish dinner in the sun. (A boy, around 10 years old, had bicycled to the restaurant where we were sipping wine. He turned over his catch to the proprietor). FullSizeRender

How did people create this intricate art thousands of years ago? IMG_2317

Back in Antalya after our little road trip, I loved the luxurious Turkish breakfasts prepared by my gracious hosts. “If there aren’t tomatoes, feta, cucumbers, nuts, and olives, it just doesn’t feel like breakfast,” my friend’s father said.

I loved Turkey. There was so much more I wanted to see. Someday, I will.

Following a week in Antalya I returned to Istanbul, my hub for six flights during the 3 1/2 weeks I was out of the United States.

I was on my own again. Headed to Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. Please watch for that story in the November issue of Desert Leaf.

 

 

 

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Hatred Run Amuck in America

Posted on July 10, 2016 by sheilawill

“Do you know how lucky you are to have been born on this patch of land we call America,”  I often asked my high school students 20 years ago. Many of them looked at me shell-shocked.

It’s just the way it is, they probably thought.

Last month, I was distraught about itchy little bumps that appeared all over my body overnight, for three solid weeks. Or gee, how terrible that we can’t go hiking because it’s pouring rain.

First world problems, yes. Privileged American concerns, yes.

It’s just the way it is should never be the answer to violence run amuck in America. Even if I’m preaching to the choir, I can’t stay silent. So what can any of us do about this sickness, this runaway racism and hatred, including mean-spirited rants by a presumptive presidential nominee?

In my humble view, the deterioration of the so-called American dream isn’t surprising, with around 1 percent of the U.S. population possessing resources equal to around 90 percent of the population. Of course people are angry. Also, many Americans been terrified since 9/11.

The sad part is that exploiting the anger of millions of Americans has become a scapegoat for  some of the wealthiest among us, a way to maintain their status.

Yeah, those poor schlumps, those 47 percent, won’t take their frustrations out on us rich folks if we divert their attention to “the other,” or the government that’s out to take their guns…(Didn’t he-who-shall-not-be-named say he liked the uneducated?)

So what can we do about this epidemic of racism, this overwhelming inequality, heightened by fear, increasing the preponderance of guns?

Racism has been a long time comin’ (or never leaving), and it will be a long time [till it’s] gone.

Finally, after the horrendous attack on Dallas police, Trump came out with a staff-written statement citing over-the-top divisiveness (at least he took a day off from spewing hate).

Sure, I’m preaching to the choir, but in the short run:

Vote all the NRA-owned, do-nothing robots — covering their own asses — out of office in November.

Democrats, consider U.S. Rep. John Lewis (D-Georgia) as your vice presidential nominee. He knows how to get shit done and he’s not afraid of anyone.

In the long run:

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Teach your children well. Read “Teammates” to the very youngest ( ages 4-8+). I’ve never forgotten this story of the friendship between Pee Wee Reese and Jackie Robinson. It shows kids that you must speak out, to the extent that you can, whenever possible.

There’s no way for white Americans to know the sickening fear that black parents feel for their children, especially their sons. I can’t imagine what that’s like. One of the best books I read all year opened my eyes: “Between the World and Me” by Ta-Nehisi Coates.

Read/discuss “The Warmth of Other Suns. The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration” by Isabel Wilkerson for an understanding of what various black Americans have experienced since slavery (no group is homogeneous).

I turned 70 last month. Perhaps I have a little wisdom as an elder, a mother, a former teacher, bookstore owner, and journalist. I believe in the decency of most people.

Ultimately, aren’t we all on the same team?

 

 

 

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‘Ladies and Gentlemen and Dear Children…’

Posted on June 2, 2016 by sheilawill

Little did I know that an airline announcement would have such an impact on me. I took eight flights on Turkish Airlines during “Sheila’s Excellent Adventure” last month. Each time the pilot began a mundane English announcement with “Ladies and gentlemen and dear children,” my heart melted.

What American airline or political policy addresses children? It got me thinking.

America, America. We’re so rich, so advanced?  It’s surely backward for our public policy to not focus on the happiness of children.

The children I saw in Kyrgyzstan were so beautiful, especially those in the village of Barskoon near Lake Issyk-Kul, where we stayed for three days. Plus, they looked happy and healthy.

Sure, Kyrgyz children don’t have the benefits of most children who grow up in America. But how many in our country are poverty-stricken and unhappy?

In Barskoon, even little kids seemed free to roam safely, to play outdoors without fear (although I feared the fast cars periodically racing down the one paved street).

From our tiny guest house balcony, I watched a toddler rambling down a dirt road behind a cow. By himself. Humming a tune. His parents weren’t chasing after him, weren’t petrified about some hateful person doing him harm.

“It takes a village” to raise all the children felt true.

Sure, Barskoon felt backward. It’s an old-world place with a subsistence economy.

Our guest house had a modern bathroom, but the toilet would only flush from 7 a.m. till noon, after which water was reserved for agricultural purposes.

Cows and horses meandered everywhere. Early one morning, I wandered down a dirt road with old wooden houses, each with a garden, one after the other on both sides. This was the closest I would ever come to the shtetl where my mother was born in pre-revolutionary Russia, which later became part of the Soviet Union, as Kyrgyzstan also did. The “Soviet time,” as locals refer to it, ended in 1991.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the Kyrgyz children, who look more Asian than European. These two beautiful girls stood shyly on the side of the road where we were walking one afternoon.

Giggling, they came over to Steph and me and handed us each a bouquet of lilacs. One girl smiled, saying “America,” and flashed the peace sign.

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This brief encounter was a highlight of my trip to the other side of the world. And the lilacs…they always make me happy.

 

 

 

Posted in Neuroscience needs me, politics, The inconvenient truth about education, The Rest of the World, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The past is never past

Posted on April 25, 2016 by sheilawill

“Great minds think alike,” the woman said to me. With iPhones held high, we were both walking toward the desert century plant in the parking lot.

About to hop in my car after Pilates class, the tall stalk of the Agave americana had caught my eye.

“I’ve lived here 13 years and I’ve never seen anything like that,” I said.

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We both snapped photos. I caught a certain lilt in the woman’s accent.

Reaching out my hand, I introduced myself and asked, “Where are you from?”

“The North Shore of Boston,” she replied.

“Oh wow, when I lived in Cambridge back in the early ’70s, I went to a coffee house in Ipswich. Saw Bonnie Raitt there a few times before she became famous.”

The woman, who was about my age, stared at me.

“My husband and I ran that coffee house. It was called Stonehenge. The J. Geils Band also got its start with us.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Wait till I tell my husband!” the woman called out as she got in her car.

Two women from the ’60s, sharing a bit of the past that hadn’t fully passed. We laughed about her now 50-year-old son, who thought it was normal for a little kid to grow up  steeped in the rock ‘n’ roll scene.

Nature is a good conversation starter, but rock ‘n’ roll will never die.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Baby Boomers, Bopping Around Tucson, It's only rock 'n' roll, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Chocolate-covered coffee beans at a historic hotel in Flagstaff, Arizona

Posted on April 24, 2016 by sheilawill

A handful for twenty-five cents. That’s right; the same amount of chocolate-covered coffee beans from Godiva or any other hoity-toity chocolatier would be at least two dollars. We probably ate at least fifty each. We were on a mini-vacation, so I’m talking any time of day or night.

Our trip to Flagstaff, staying at the Hotel Monte Vista, was a warm-up for upcoming longer journeys, Dan driving/ cycling cross-country in his van, while I gallivant from Boston to Turkey to Greece, to the other side of the world.

Chocolate-covered coffee beans contributed to a small taste of adventure. What can I say? At home in Tucson, we lead pretty quiet lives.

To the right of the hotel’s registration desk (and our beloved candy machine) was a   vintage-hip bar. It was Mojito Monday ($5)! I simply had to imbibe.

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Registration at the vintage-hip Hotel Monte Vista 

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What fabulous little nuggets!

But food must come first, we smartly decided. Shrimp and grits topped with a bit of barbecued pork was my choice, along with a yummy happy hour margarita at the ultra-cool Latin restaurant a few doors down.

Hitting the Monte Vista bar had been on my bucket list ever since I first laid eyes on it five or six years ago. It was so inviting, so western.

“The blackberry mojito is my favorite,” the desk manager told us. It was a yummy after-dinner delight.

We were asleep by 9 p.m.

We didn’t only drink and eat on our getaway, honest.

Heading outdoors is always high on my list.

The next morning, Dan wanted to show me Tonto Natural Bridge State Park. Underneath the giant arch, we made our way around sleek pools of water. Higher and higher we climbed. We survived, but not without some scary steps up the steep, slippery rocks. Thrilled to emerge safe and sound, we ran into two young men. One had peyot (curly sidelocks), tzitzit (stings hanging out of his shirt), both sure signs of Orthodox Jewry. I started singing a Passover song in Hebrew. Maybe I was thanking the Jewish God for getting me through in one piece (Dan had already figured out a way to save me if I fell).

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Yup, looks like another planet under that giant arch!

“How do you know that?”the regular-looking young man asked. The religious one, perhaps he was Israeli, stared at me. Maybe had never seen a woman my age with purple-streaked hair climbing over huge rocks, or not wearing a sheitel (wig). Anyway, I wished them both a happy Pesach, surprising myself that I would say that (I tend to ignore the holidays of my heritage).

But isn’t life about surprises?

Sometimes I’m still astounded that I live out west, near the old, old West of 800 years ago. The Wupatki Pueblo knocked my socks off. Secluded in the desert around 40 miles outside of Flagstaff, I could imagine gentle humans living there. The U.S. national monument literature made a point of saying that all native peoples were welcome.

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That was last weekend. On May 3, I’ll take off on Sheila’s Excellent Adventure, the highlight reaching the other side of the world, Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, where I’ll visit my fabulous son and daughter-in-law, Ethan and Steph. They’ve booked a three-night stay for us at an old Soviet resort at Lake Issyk-Kul. Mineral hot springs, horseback riding around the  world’s second largest alpine lake (I’ve never been on a horse), and who knows what else awaits me? Stay tuned…

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Family Matters, Fight wimpiness, Food/happy hours, Nature Girl, The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Kisses to the world, ‘Optum’ to Turkey

Posted on March 26, 2016 by sheilawill

“Oy Vey’Izmir” (a type of desert kvetch), says Jordan, when I ask what part of Turkey Buket’s from. I wish I had snapped a photo of these two young folks sitting next to us this morning at our Frank’s breakfast.

“Is that your car with the Vermont plates?” I ask about the car facing us in the lot across the street. Ok, I already had a few cups of coffee, not that I need any encouragement to speak to strangers.

“Yeah, I don’t really live there but I like to drive around and have people yell, ‘Yay Bernie,'” replies Jordan (whom I had already determined shared my heritage). He’s a freelance translator and Buket is a fifth year Ph.D student in chemistry at the University of Arizona.

Turkey talk ensues. Buket laughs when I repeat the two Turkish words I know — Optum and Merhaba (hello). In about five weeks I’m going to Antalya to visit friends, I tell her, the start of my big birthday trip.

First stop below, Antalya, Turkey.

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Of course, Maine comes up (Hell, it’s near Vermont). Turns out that years ago Jordan stayed in the Southwest Harbor home of a woman who made “Dogs are People” jewelry. (Anybody know who it is? Do I know this woman? Probably, but it’s not ringing a bell at the moment.)

The world is small. Our hearts are big. There are so many ways to connect with other people, most of whom are kind, friendly and curious, as I am. I’m excited and nervous about my trip. So far away, so much flying. Time by myself in strange countries.

I wish I had asked Buket where I should go if I got to Izmir, any of her family I should visit?

No matter. Our chance encounter reminds me that I can make friends anywhere. And really, aren’t we all of the same heritage?

When we all get up to leave leave, we shake hands. “Nice to meet you,” says Buket. “Have fun in Turkey!” I will, I will.

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Sunset in Kas, Turkey. Thanks to Pat for the photos.

 

Posted in Bopping Around Tucson, Fight wimpiness, Mount Desert Island/Maine, politics, The Rest of the World, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments