Uncategorized – Page 18 – Terri LaBonte- Reinventing Myself in Retirement

The Difference Between Bamboo and Violets

In my blog last week, I marveled at the creativity, innovation, and adaptability of the human brain. This week, I am going to tackle another facet of the miracle of the mind. It is true that our individual minds are capable of transforming to meet the needs of our individual environments. It is also true that different brains work very differently right from the get-go.

This thought came to me a couple of weeks ago when Max was trying to explain some fine point of Christian apologetics. Now, I am not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I am by no means unintelligent. I do like to think deep thoughts and consider meaningful questions. Still, my brain’s tolerance for detail and abstract reasoning is quite limited when compared to his. It can be overwhelming listening to Max follow a point of theology or scriptural history through a frenzied labyrinth of names, dates, and arguments. When I try to keep up with the breakneck pace at which his synopses are firing, I crash against the wall at the first turn. I try to slow him down, interrupt him to ask questions, and have him repeat his points in different words, but he still almost always leaves me in the dust by the second lap. The good news is that I usually get something from the conversation. The bad news is that what I get from it is a fraction of the information Max intends to impart. I guess getting some knowledge beats getting nothing except annoyed (which I admit I often also get.)

I have to say that this mental pattern of Max’s is nothing new. It is just the way his brain works. He tends to get interested in a topic and just inundate his mind with it. I have seen him go through periods when he has scavenged all the information to be had about The Titanic, William Desmond Taylor, East German military, cosmology, and Jack the Ripper… just to name a few of his mental renovation projects. Some of these projects have been easier for me to grasp than others. Now that he seems to be on the Christian apologetics kick, I seem to be particularly abysmal at keeping pace.

I was talking to our rector about the issue a few months back. I really did feel badly that I was being such an incompetent conversation partner on such an important issue, but I also felt like there was no way I was ever going to have the energy, inclination, or nimbleness of brain to meet his need for theological conversation. My rector was holding weekly “coffee and philosophy” sessions at a local café and I thought that it might be more satisfying for Max to have the opportunity to exchange ideas with people whose brains were more in line with his. The rector told me that he and his wife have a similar experience. He will be caught up with some theological point he is researching and will have to curb his enthusiasm… or at least the minutia… when sharing it with his wife. My rector said he would be happy to have Max come to the sessions, but that I should know that it probably would not be an outlet for Max to burn off his theological energy. He warned me that it would likely kindle Max’s desire to explore theological ideas even more.

Max did decide to attend, but only if I went with him. We have gone to about half a dozen of these sessions. We both enjoy them. My rector was right; it has done nothing to curtail the plethora of theological ideas being uttered in my household, but it has helped us both benefit a little more from the discussions. We have also had some rich conversations about how much apologetics is more than I can absorb. We have also had some conversations about our different approaches to faith. It is not that we disagree; it is simply a question of emphasis. St. Anselm of Canterbury said, “I do not seek to understand in order that I may believe, but I believe in order to understand.” Both of us think sturdy faith is faith that comes from both reason and spiritual experience. I am just more on the “believe in order to understand” side and Max is more on the “seek to understand in order that I may believe” side.

One day, when we were attending the “coffee and philosophy” session, Max alluded several times to an idea saying, “even Terri was seeing the holes in that statement.” Other attendees kind of took him to task for making it sound like he thought I wasn’t that smart. I did not take it that way because I knew he was referring more to brain orientation than brain power. Max thinks I am very smart… far smarter than I am. Max tried to explain this to the group and the rector said he knew what he meant… that my intelligence was more an intrinsic wisdom (rather than a scholarly approach.)

That got me thinking about how each person’s brain operates differently. We all grow ideas and thoughts and solutions and relationships in the messy gray matter of our minds. We all grow them differently and cultivate different crops, as a result.

This brings me to bamboo and violets.

Max grows bamboo in his brain…. Tall, towering, practical, sustainable ideas that are limitless and sometimes out of control. You can watch a whole bamboo forest of ideas grow to the very stratosphere just by listening to him for five minutes. You can literally see the bamboo of his thoughts grow before your very eyes. Bamboo will grow almost anywhere. It has shallow roots, making it easy to harvest. If one idea gets harvested, he is on to the next one. He mulches and fertilizes and lets the momentum of growth carry him along.

I, on the other hand, grow violets in my brain. Violets are deep rooted. They are a little delicate but are much stronger than they look. They tend to grow out rather than up. They need to be kept out of the direct sun and nurtured with some restful, contemplative shade. They do not really have any practical purpose. They are just there to be beautiful and interesting and colorful and joyful. My brain is just as powerful, but the output is nothing big, noticeable, or intrinsically valuable.

Sometimes I wish I could have a bamboo brain. On the other hand, the world needs violets, too. No one who trades in beauty and joy is powerless. I enjoy stretching my mind and finding the parts of it that could grow bamboo if necessary, but I also enjoy knowing that the best of me will always be the best of me.

How would you characterize your brain? What kind of mental crop do you raise? What about the way you think makes you uniquely you? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a growth-filled day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

Brains

If there was a word to describe 2020 (besides the unprintable ones, of course), I think it would be “pivot.”

The human brain is a strange and wondrous thing to behold. Especially during the pandemic, we have seen how adaptable and creative it can be. I marvel at how nimbly many people resculpted their brains to accommodate the changing times. There are many examples.

After a brief period of discombobulation, the world figured out new ways of doing old activities. Disney World scrambled their approach to queue management and replaced parades with cavalcades- single floats that wandered through an entire park to prevent people bunching together to watch a parade. Churches have employed various online platforms and “drive-in” methods to continue to engage congregants. Doctors have developed “telehealth” to handle medical visits that do not require “hands on” examinations or treatments. People who never thought they could work effectively from home and collaborate with their teams are running efficient, effective businesses from inside their Zoom accounts. In times of plummeting sales, many retailers have expanded their product lines to include snazzy face masks and hand sanitizer.

It is also true that the strain on our collective brains has caused many people to temporarily throw in the towel on “normal” activities. They started spending their time doing new things that they never would have explored before the pandemic. I hear a lot of people talk about completing big home projects, catching up with old friends with whom they have not communicated in ages, taking up new creative pursuits, learning new skills, and finding more time to settle into God’s arms.

The more deeply we delve into the COVID19 world, the easier retooling our lifelong routines, thoughts, activities, and perspectives seems to become. I hope we have not become so comfortable with our new circumstances that we permanently discard some of the activities and traditions that used to give us joy. I can see people thinking that there is no longer a need for in-person continuing education conferences because, while it was pleasant to get together and share ideas, “we’ve been doing the same thing on Zoom for a year, and it is so much cheaper.” I can see people thinking that they miss traveling, but it does take a lot of work and planning to implement a vacation. I can see people thinking that they used to like going to church services, but it has turned out to be so easy to simply watch YouTube in their pajamas. I can see people thinking that they enjoyed all the clubs and activities they had pre-COVID19, but that it has turned out to be quite restful not to have to juggle such a full calendar. I can see people abandoning hugging, shaking hands, and touching each other because it now feels awkward.

I have been worried about the slow degradation of communal life since we began the “two week” stay-at-home order. Our experimentation and discoveries about alternate ways of doing things have been wonderful. I love that the pandemic has forced us to re-examine the way we live and relate to one another. I love that some of the strategies we are forced to employ to promote social distancing have allowed us to be more inclusive. For instance, my Alpha course is meeting online, which has allowed guests from all over the country to attend. Entertainment has become more interactive, in some ways. I am thinking of the Disney Sing-along television specials that popped up during quarantine. In the past, most television entertainment was extremely passive. The action focused on the performers while the audience just sat at home, staring at a screen. Because performers could not be on stage together during the pandemic, Disney changed the emphasis to creating strategies to allow the audience to provide their own entertainment. The place where I get my nails done now has a plexiglass wall between my face and the technician’s face. I put my hands through a small opening at the bottom of that barrier. Surely, this is a better procedure, COVID19 or no COVID19. The technicians really do not need to have client after client breathing their germs of any kind into their faces all day long.

All the positive changes aside, I still believe there is a more sinister downside to month after month and year after year COVID precautions. As people’s acceptance, tolerance, and lethargy about our “new normal” grows, so does the danger that we will never regain the things we have lost. I do not want to lose the warmth of hugs, the excitement of traveling, and the rich connectedness of gathering with people in person. All the restrictions and adaptations have been necessary over the past year. I am glad we did them. I just do not know how long we can continue without permanently losing some of the emotional and social richness of living communally in the world.

I do have some hope. A friend and I have been stubbornly supporting our community’s book club over the past year. Before the pandemic, our club was extremely well-attended. In fact, it was starting to get a bit unwieldy, with 20 members often attending the discussions. We discontinued meetings for a few months at the beginning of the pandemic. We discussed going to Zoom, but most of our participants were not ready to enter the Zoom-asphere at that time. As soon as our community center opened, we went back to scheduled meetings. For several months now, our attendance has ranged from 4-6. Well, things are changing. Many of the people in our community have now been vaccinated. At our March meeting, we had 10 participants. Clearly, people are emerging to start searching for the good things we left behind in the pre-pivot world.

What’s next? Hugging?

Have you seen any indications that the world is starting to get back to its pre-pandemic state? What are you observing? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a normal day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

The Bunnies Are Running!

Everybody’s heard of the Elf on the Shelf. Some people also have the privilege of having a “Bun on the Run.” I’m special that way.

I have a whole family of bunnies in different colors and sizes on my kitchen table. I originally had two bunnies… but, you know, they are rabbits. They multiplied, as rabbits are wont to do. See my own personal Rabbit Hole:

Here is where Archibald, Arabella, Wynken, Blinken, Nod, Tumble, Eenie, Meenie, Miney, and Mo live from Ash Wednesday until Easter. Most people give up chocolate for Lent. I indulge in bunny hunting. Every morning, Max hides a bunny somewhere in the front living area of our house and I stalk the missing “bun on the run.”

My bunnies have an active life. They have individual personalities. They manage a series of complex, interconnected relationships. At least they do in my own mind.

Archibald and Arabella are the mommy and daddy bunnies. Archibald always looks long-suffering. He doesn’t have two carrots to rub together. Arabella, frankly, always looks exhausted. She is afraid she is losing her girlish charm. Archibald and Arabella, being the largest, are the easiest to find. This is a problem for them because all they really want is five minutes of peace and quiet away from those kids.

The diaper babies (Wynken, Blinken, Nod, and Tumble) are also easy to find. They are each about the size of a ping pong ball. Wynken and Blinken are very close and never go anywhere without each other. Nod tends to fall asleep as a defense mechanism against his chaotic childhood. Tumble is a little behind his siblings developmentally and is always “falling” behind!

Those newborn siblings (Eenie, Meenie, Miney, and Mo) are the sneaky ones. They are out of control. You cannot blame Archibald and Arabella too much. Just imagine if you gave birth to quadruplet babies while still having quadruplets in diapers at home. Rabbits running rampant is the requisite result of riotous reproduction. Kids, please do not try this at home.

I often need several hints to find the hiding newborns. They are each just a touch bigger than a cube of cheese… or the tip of a baby carrot. Meenie and Miney are especially clever at the game. They are the most competitive of all the kids and like to “get one over” on each other… and on me.

The first time I almost gave up on the game of bunny hide and seek was when Miney decided to hide on a small support disk under the kitchen table. This first picture shows what the scene looked like before I started rummaging about looking for Miney. The second picture shows him perched on the table support. Would you have found him?

The next time I almost surrendered, Meenie was hiding in the wireless television headphones. Various creatures- both bunnies and elves- have sidled over to the headphones before, but this was the first time one actually climbed INSIDE the ear covers. It was kind of gruesome… like the earwig scene in the Wrath of Kahn. Happily, I found Meenie before some poor sap unknowingly donned the headphones and had a rabbit burrow through his or her brain. Again, here are pictures of what I saw before I found Meenie and what I saw once I spotted him.

I have a couple of weeks left of my bunny quests. Both Max and I are enjoying them. We live such a full and rewarding life!

Your turn? Where would a bunny hide in your house? Why would you WANT to hide a bunny in your house? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Happy Easter!

Terri/Dorry 😊

P.S. I know Easter is more than bunny running. It is the most important day of the year to me. As I write this, it is a beautiful spring day and I am just playing with y’all!

Memories

Not misty watercolor memories. Vibrant, solid, high-definition memories.

That is how I spent the week that I did not publish a new blog post.

Yes, I originally decided to let the blog take second fiddle to working on my new book this year. After careful consideration, I decided that I would spend more of my overall writing time on the book instead of the blog. The first time I did not publish a new post this year was on 2/24. I would like to say that I spent hours working on Puppies, Guppies, and Letting Go instead. However, I gave up lying for Lent.

For some reason, I spent most of the week daydreaming and recalling some specific events of my childhood.

I thought you all deserved to know what kinds of things cluttered my brain that week. Here are some of the highlights:

When I was in kindergarten, we had a May pole in the middle of the classroom. Every day in May, we danced around it, braiding ribbons of multi-colored crepe paper around the pole.
When I was waiting for the school bus one winter morning in New York, I noticed that the vacant field by the bus stop was beautiful in the snow. I had this bright idea to sell tickets for tours of this winter wonderland. I even got a couple of takers. My appalled parents could not figure out a way to explain why this activity was wrong.
My family visited some sort of combination amusement park and zoo when I was about four. We walked past a cage with a sign that announced the animal residing inside was a flying squirrel. I saw no animal residing in the cage at all and told my father, “He must have flown away.”
When we moved to California, I had a small round suitcase that I took with me on the airplane.
The very first ice cream place we visited in California was the Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors that was about a mile from our house. The man who owned it was named Mr. Zero. He was very nice and bought Campfire Girl nuts from me.
When my mother’s mother was in the hospital, my father would sit in the car with my brother and me while my mother visited. He sang us songs. I particularly remember him belting out “I’ve got a sixpence, a jolly, jolly sixpence. I’ve got a sixpence to last me all my life. I’ve got tuppence to spend and tuppence to lend and tuppence to send home to my wife… poor wife.”
When camping in Idyllwild with my family when I was about nine, I used to sit and watch squirrels for hours, as they harvested acorns. There was a quietness that you could feel rather than hear. The path was blanketed with pine needles. There were fallen logs where I would sit, breathing and thinking. Pine air tastes good.

I would like to believe that these memories have some productive purpose. Perhaps they will eventually work themselves into fodder for the book. I seriously doubt it, however. I think my brain just went on a little vacation down memory lane and chose some pretty bizarre highways to get there.

I think there might be something seriously wrong with me.

What is one of your vivid childhood memories that seems inconsequential but is actually means a lot to you? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com

Have a memorable day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

Did You Miss Me?

I’m baaaaack.

Did you even realize I was gone for a week?

Last week was my first “not posting because I did not have anything prepared to say” Wednesday since I started the blog in January of 2016. Did the tectonic plates shift? Did the world stop spinning on its axis? Are icebergs melting at the polar caps more rapidly? Has the Liberty Bell cracked once again?

It sure felt like it. To me.

I am sure that most of you are only aware that a Wednesday has come and gone without a Terri LaBonte morsel just now as I bring it to your attention. You are probably reading this and saying, “oh, yeah, she didn’t publish last week.” After all, I know that most people are understandably too wrapped up in their own lives to be unduly concerned about the absence of one weekly blog post. I am not self-absorbed enough to think missing a week of Terri time counts as a problem in your lives.

Since this blog is all about me, however, I did want to share how not posting for a week impacted me.

I was fidgety the week before my FTP (failure to post) and could not settle myself. It was like there was something that I was trying to forget, but just could not. A vague conception of there being “something” up in the air never left me. That feeling was probably bigger because I kept pushing it away from my consciousness until it was about something amorphous and intangible rather than a specific task. I think I used to get like that when I was working, too. There might be something I did not want to do that I decided I did not have to do. The task would not completely remove itself from my mind. I did not focus on it enough to name it and vanquish my dread about it but did focus on it enough to keep me awake at night. It was kind of masochistic. I made a conscious decision that I did not have to do the task, but still seemed to believe I had to feel guilty about it. I think it is important to do the right thing in life. It does not have to be important to feel bad about not doing something that you have intellectually decided is not a moral imperative, however.

When Wednesday morning came around and I did not publish a post, I had a sense of failure. Even though nobody cared, I felt like I had somehow let someone down. Maybe it was just me I was afraid of letting down. It seemed a defeat to me. That was especially true because I did not spend any time at all last week working on my new book, which was the whole reason I decided to post less regularly. The idea was that I would allow myself to skip the odd week of blogging in order to use my writing time to work on my book. I did not write at all last week. Just typing this feels somewhat like a shameful confession.

After Wednesday, I started compulsively checking my blog statistics to see if there was any negative impact from not posting. You would swear the blogging stakes are much higher than they are. I did not see any particular downward trend in views or visitors. Even if there were a downward trend, what would it matter, really?

Of course, I know that I do not have to have a reason to skip a week. Writing is my pleasure and if becomes a chore or a stressor in any given week, I should respect those feelings and take a break. No one is paying me to write. Blood will not be spilled if I do not write. The pandemic will not spread further if I do not write. You all have supported my plan to only write when I feel called to say something interesting… even if it is only interesting to me. In short, there is no reason for me to have such complicated, unpleasant feelings surrounding the issue.

I suspect that the unpleasant feelings stem from something much bigger than just not posting for a week. COVID crazy has been eating away at me this week. Everywhere I turn, there seem to be challenges and barriers. My book is not going well just now. I have a book club meeting coming up and I have not read the book… nor am I particularly interested in doing so. I guess there seem to be a lot of barriers in my way just now. I think I will probably get over it, but I would not put money on the result. As I said, I see my current mood to be a kind of lifelong pattern.

I have said it before, and I will say it again. The most difficult change most of us will ever undergo is changing our minds.

So, did you miss me? How did you use the 2.1 minutes you usually spend reading my blog? I hope it was something fun.

Have a useful day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

Al-phantastic

Some of you may remember reading some of my blog pieces about the Alpha program I’ve helped run at my church. Alpha is a program designed to give people a place to explore the big questions of life- meaning, purpose, God, religion, relationships, etc.- without judgment or pressure. The program originated in the Anglican Church and is now used by churches of all Christian denominations all over the world. I mention that to demonstrate that Alpha is not “way out there” or cultish in any way.

This 12-week program offers weekly sessions consisting of friendship, a video about some basic principle of Christianity, and a small group discussion to unpack the content of the video and to wrestle with any questions that our Alpha guests have. The conversation is relaxed, candid, open, and uncharged with expectations. One attendee, an atheist, specifically mentioned how it was clearly a “non-coercive, relaxed environment filled with caring people.”

Alpha is for everybody. Some Alpha guests are unchurched. Some would not even identify themselves as Christian. Some have been sturdy lifelong believers. Many are somewhere in between. The intended audience is anyone who is questioning their spiritual journey in life or who is not as close to God as they wish they were.

I always think of Alpha as a “search party.” It is a “party” because one of its main foundations is friendship- having fun and good conversation together. It is a “search” because we are all searching for something.

In the past, running an Alpha program meant, among other things, providing dinner for our guests every week. The principle was that the catalyst for the evening is relational. The basis of the program is the sincere, genuine friendships that develop. It is frequently those relationships that spark the power of God into each evening’s proceedings. Sharing a meal together is one of the best ways to foster those relationships. If anyone questions whether the Holy Spirit actually works through the Alpha program, all they need do is consider that I pulled off multiple dinners for 50 without poisoning anyone. To put that factoid in perspective, you have to know that my first Alpha evening was the first time in my life I had ever hosted a party. I don’t even really cook. I eat a lot of peanut butter and pre-made food at home. I still look at pictures of the foil pans of food I prepared for Alpha dinners in absolute amazement. I’m sorry, but I have to take those pans of food as evidence that there is indeed a God.

Now that we are living in world where people must stay physically distant and sharing food in public is suspect at best, meeting in person and sharing a communal meal is not a good option. We want to spread the love of God, but not the coronavirus. Still, in a time when people are more isolated and lonelier, Alpha may be even more necessary than before the pandemic.

As Alpha pivots into a coronaviral world, we are finding that we can recreate the Alpha experience virtually. There are even some additional benefits from running Alpha online. There are no geographical limits. There is no necessity for anyone to walk into an unfamiliar location. Parents who have small children can participate even if they have no one to babysit their kids. If guests have to travel for work, they can still jump on Zoom for the discussion. When we “meet” people in their own environments, we get to know each other quicker than in even the most relaxed “classroom” type setting.

We can even adapt the elements of Alpha that seem particularly rooted in the face-to-face experience. We may not be able to serve dinner every week, but that does not mean we cannot find creative ways to share snacks. We may not be able to have light conversation around a dinner table, but that does not mean we cannot dedicate part of our virtual session to just being friends hanging out together. We may not be able to share physical hugs, but that does not mean we cannot encourage, comfort, and love.

So, it turns out that the Holy Spirit is perfectly okay using Zoom.

My church is going to start a new season of Alpha on Wednesday March 10,2021. We will be meeting on Zoom from 6:30-7:45 pm Eastern USA time. I thought I would take advantage of the “no geographical limits” benefit of online Alpha to invite you to participate with me. I would really love it if some of you would join us. If you do not want to commit to the whole program but would just like to “come and see” for a session or two, you would be very welcome.

In our crazy, coronaviral world, many folks are already using Zoom. For those of you who have not yet gone Zooming, it is really easy. It is free. All you need is a computer or tablet that has a camera, microphone, and speakers. Some desktops have all these things. Just about any laptop or tablet will. You can even use a smart phone, but it is a little less comfortable. If you wish to join us, I’ll be sending you a link by email. All you will need to do is click on it. The first time, the process will lead you through installing the Zoom app on whatever device you are using.

If you would like to hang out with me in an Alpha session, please email me at terriretirement@gmail.com. Please provide your name, phone number and whether or not you can/wish to accept texts at that number, email address, and mailing address (you never know what delightful surprises you might find in your mailbox!) I will keep your information private. There is absolutely no commitment and NO PRESSURE.

Please consider joining us for our next search party!

Have you ever heard of Alpha? What questions do you have? Does it sound like something you might find interesting? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Let’s party!

Terri/Dorry 😊

A Piece Of My Heart

Happy Valentine’s Day! It strikes me that, over the past five plus years, I have been sharing pieces of my heart with all of you. One little crumble of heart at a time, I have been giving you so much of what makes me me. I always say that love cannot be rationed or horded. Giving it away never depletes one’s own supply of it.

In sharing these pieces of my heart with you, I find that the love within me expands and renews itself. I am sure, as a result of writing this blog and engaging with you all, that there is infinitely more love in my heart than there was before I started.

Thank you for the love you give me. May it expand and renew itself in your hearts as well… on Valentine’s Day and every day.

What expands and renews the love in your heart? Please share your own little valentine by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com. Happy Heart Day!

Have a loving day!

Terri/Dorry 😘

Days Of The Dolphins

I finally got to take my retreat day at Discovery Cove. It was wonderful.

Some of you may recall my visits to Discovery Cove in earlier years. If you would like to refresh your memories, you can read my accounts at http://www.terrilabonte.com/2017/05/my-date-with-the-dolphins/ , http://www.terrilabonte.com/2017/05/school-of-dolphins/ , http://www.terrilabonte.com/2019/06/artistry/ , and http://www.terrilabonte.com/2018/07/discovery-in-the-cove/ .

As you can see by the plethora of blog pieces I have written to memorialize my days of the dolphins, I cannot get enough of the experience. Once I got over the silly “once in a lifetime experience” orientation, I looked forward to my Dolphin Day each year. Each year, the experience far exceeded my unreasonably high expectations. The most interesting thing is that, each year, the experience has been uniquely wonderful. You would think that, by now, my annual trip to Discovery Cove would have fallen comfortably into a pleasure niche… a fun day, to be sure, but not exactly novel and surprising. Truth be told, the activities in which I engage during each visit are pretty much the same. The reality, however, is that the way I experience each visit has been very different. I seem to get what I need at the particular time each time I go.

The first time I went to Discovery Cove, the experience was very much about novelty and luxury. My first trip occurred during the time I was accompanying my mother on her end of life journey. Time blurred during that period in my life. Days and nights ran together. Everything in my life was pretty much about loving my mother and living for her. There was nothing novel about my life. In fact, part of the burden was the aching, heavy, oppressive sameness of each day. As anyone who has ever been inside a skilled nursing facility knows, there is no luxury involved. While I did not reside in the skilled nursing facility, I lived there. My life was with my mother. My life was institutional grey and every facet of it was functional, not luxurious. The day at Discovery Code gave me sunlight and saltwater and service and specialness. It delighted me and lit some joy in my depleted soul.

The second time I went to Discovery Cove, I was learning to embrace life. I struggled with letting go of practicality. It seemed frivolous to spend money on an encore of my “once in a lifetime” experience. As soon as I settled happily into my day, though, I realized that there should be nothing “once in a lifetime” about enjoying each moment. Having memories to savor and having dreams to pursue are important, wonderful facets of a full life. Having those memories and those dreams does not diminish the magic of the now. I spent a wonderful day, practicing my living in the now skills. The fact that I had been to the cove before did not take the dew of my dolphin rose. That time, I heard a child proclaim, “this is the best day ever.” Suddenly, I understood that each day can be the best day ever, if we fully experience the present. As illogical as it sounds, maybe we don’t get just one best day ever. Maybe God blesses us with many best days ever, if we are open to His grace.

The third trip to Discovery Cove focused me on the beauty and sheer artistry of nature. I focused much more outwardly than during my prior visits. Instead of exploring my own mind… as fascinating as that was… I explored the sights, sounds, textures, scents, and tastes I experienced. I purposely let my mind be still and soak in the experience. I savored the fruit of my senses and remembered that God was the artist of the breathtaking canvas of the world. On this experience, I realized that my day at the cove was actually a spiritual retreat for me.

This last visit was different because Discovery Cove made significant adjustments due to COVID-19 protocols. I was not expecting to enjoy it as much as prior visits. In fact, I probably would not have gone except that I had a quarantine-postponed paid reservation that was speeding headlong towards an expiration date.

To my surprise, I enjoyed my COVID-curtailed day at Discovery Cove very much. I was interested to see how the employees adjusted to retain as much magic as they could while offering only encounters that could be handled with physical distancing. Typically, one of the highlights of the day is “swimming with a dolphin.” That entailed swimming out to deep water and holding on to a dolphin’s flipper while she towed you back to the shore. I knew that there was not going to be any dolphin surfing on my recent trip. However, what I did not know is that the keepers would offer alternative experiences. I got to train a dolphin, dance with her, and giggle as she sang with me. It wasn’t quite as exciting as riding a dolphin wakeboard, but it was so much fun. Because I had been shut away from the world for so long, it was a very sweet treat to be outside in the sun and water for a day. I truly appreciated the sensual jubilee that my day with the dolphins provided. Because Discovery Cove is always a limited admission park, it never feels crowded. On this last trip, the sense of being almost alone on a tropical island was even more pronounced. There were few visitors and we were all staying well clear of us each other.

Yes, this past trip represented a different kind of experience. Of all my trips, there were the fewest experiences available. However, in some ways, this last, “limited” trip was the best of all worlds. As I reveled in the luxury and novelty in my first trip, my last trip represented the luxury of liberation from quarantine… freedom from the world within my four walls. As I reveled in the opportunity to embrace life and live in the moment without worrying about the past or future during my second trip, my last trip reminded me that an experience that is different from what I expect is not necessarily a “less than” experience. As I reveled in the infusion of senses emanating from God’s natural world and spent some quality time with my Maker on my third trip, my last trip gave me silence and solitude to continue those divine conversations.

Discoveries are delightful!

Do you have an experience or activity that continues to surprise and enrich you, even after doing it multiple times? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a Discovery Day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

The Pink Cupcake- Wayback Wednesday

A couple of years after I got married, my husband’s youngest sister decided to also take the plunge into matrimony. She asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding party, which was very nice of her.

I was really excited. You’ve heard of those women who are always the bridesmaid and never the bride? That was not me. I have been a bride exactly once. Up until my sister-in-law married, I had never been a bridesmaid.

Let me give you a little background. I love weddings, despite my relative inexperience with them. I also loved the idea of being included as part of my husband’s family. Coming from a family with only two children, I was kind of excited when I married into a large Catholic tribe. I did not have a sister by birth, so I was joyful at the idea that I was acquiring two by marriage. For many reasons, this sister thing never really happened. I actually felt lonelier and more isolated within the family than I did before I was part of it. When my sister-in-law asked me to join the wedding party, I was ecstatic. I could see this step being the beginning a whole new sisterly relationship.

The complication is that weddings are costly affairs for everyone involved. My in-laws, despite appearances to the contrary, were not particularly affluent. My father-in-law would not be paying for my bridesmaid gown. My own financial situation was pretty marginal, too. My brand-new husband, who required brand-new food every brand-new day, was a full-time student. I had an entry level government job that would eventually fund a pretty good life for me. At the time, however, my earnings were barely enough to cover our basic expenses. We had only one car. I rationed how much I spent at the grocery store. I stretched spaghetti sauce for days. Our idea of a splurge weekly “date night” was when we picked up Wendy’s fast food instead of McDonald’s. We had no cable television. Our rabbit eared reception was pretty much my only source of entertainment. I do not think we even had a credit card at that point. Where I was going to get the money to pay for a bridesmaid dress, I had not a clue. Still, it seemed too good an opportunity to miss.

Enter my mother. My parents, a few days after my wedding, had gone off the grid, dragging their 27-foot travel trailer behind them. Their dream had always been to forgo a stationary house and travel the country, camping as the spirit moved them. They did sell the house about a year before I graduated college and married. The three of us and our two basset hounds lived in the travel trailer for a year. After I married, I was on my own. Momma and Daddy were on the road again. They called me from a pay phone about once a month. In between times, we exchanged letters and audio cassettes. It was not exactly a real time two-way dialogue. A year or so later, they settled in a campground in the city where my brother and I lived. My mother offered to pay my bridesmaid dues.

My sister-in-law took us bridesmaids with her to select a dress, but the final decision was, of course, the bride’s. I was young, but my sister-in-law was far younger in just about every way. Her choice reflected her level of sophistication. It was a rose pink satin ballgown number with a basque waist and big puffy sleeves. I did not object to her choice. For someone who had never been a bridesmaid before, something princessy fit my fantasy. On the hanger, it reminded me a bit of Princess Aurora’s gown in Sleeping Beauty.

However, I was much fatter and much more short-waisted than Princess Aurora… or any other Disney princess. When I tried on the dress in the largest size the salon offered, it was a pathetic moment. The experience reminded me that the reason no one had ever asked me to be a bridesmaid was probably because I was never going to fit into a standard size bridesmaid gown and I certainly was not going to be ornamental in the wedding pictures. You would think brides would have been happy to have a misshapen bridesmaid. It would make them shine in comparison. It seems, however, that beautiful photographic memories of the special day are more important to most people.

The wedding consultant looked distressed at the sight of me spilling out of the sample gown. My sister-in-law had another bridesmaid, her future husband’s sister, who was also a little bigger than the dress. Her situation was not as dire as mine, but it was clear the two of us spelled t-r-o-u-b-l-e. The wedding consultant asked a seamstress to join our little party. Together, they decided they could make the other bridesmaid’s dress work by letting it out a tiny bit. In my case, however, that was not going to work. I was so embarrassed, standing in the middle of the shop being fretted over by the consultant and seamstress. The seamstress finally agreed she could put in a gusset… no two gussets… to make the dress fit around my considerable girth. Relieved to finally have the experience over, I squirmed out of the gown and paid the deposit with my mother’s credit card.

Several weeks later, I returned with my mother in tow to get the altered dress. After the last experience, I was not going into that shop without moral support. I am glad I heeded that instinct. The moment I got into the dress, it was clear that it was, in no way, going to match my fantasy. The gussets distorted the proportions of the bodice of the dress. There was more material in the skirt than anyone without a shape (oh wait… I did have a shape… round is a shape) needed. I could have had several small children hidden in the folds of the skirt. The sleeves and bustline bunched together in a way that made me look like I was wearing a cape that did not quite cover my boobs. The point on the basque waist in the front of the dress bunched up right at my belly and my butt pushed out the point on the back as if I had grown a pink satin tail. All in all, I looked like a pink cupcake that had been sliding around in a bakery box on the floor of the back seat of a car over a very bumpy road. It was terrible.

Ready to burst into tears, I looked at my mother. She looked horrified. Like most mothers, seeing her child in pain was not one of her favorite pastimes. She struggled for something positive to say. She finally blurted out, “at least it is pink.”

Yes, at least the dress was pink. I love pink. I guess if I must look like a worse-for-wear cupcake, it might as well be a pink one.

I got through the wedding. I bobbed down the aisle with as much grace as I could muster. I kept my head down. I managed to keep myself covered while not suffocating in the massive yards of material at the shoulders. I think I fidgeted with the basque points, fruitlessly trying to keep them lying flat. You know how brides tend to try to justify the cost of a bridesmaid gown by telling their attendants that “you can wear the dress again?” The only saving grace in this situation was that I could NOT wear the dress again.

My husband and I left the wedding as soon as we could. When I got home, I immediately took off the dress and threw it in the dumpster behind our apartment. I have never been a bridesmaid since. I am also still kind of leery of pink cupcakes.

Scarred for life.

Do you have a nightmare wedding story? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a shiny pink day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

Just Plain Growing Old

A couple of months ago, I posted a blog called Growing Old Together In The Old South (Growing Old Together In The Old South – Terri LaBonte- Reinventing Myself in Retirement). In that post, I discussed Max and me celebrating our 25th anniversary in Savannah. That was a fun time. Today, I want to address a more sinister topic…. Just plain growing old.

We all understand that aging is a natural process and, unless we die young, old age will have an impact on our bodies. I think I got complacent, though. For years, even though the number in my age increased, I did not feel any different. Aside from a momentary panic upon reaching each milestone birthday, I truly did not feel any older each September 30 when I blew out the candles on my cake.

I think I am being realistic when I say I think I went about 15 or 20 years with no significant aging. Even when I look at home movies and pictures from days gone by, I think I looked pretty much the same from age 35 to age 55. Certainly, there were differences if one looked closely. Still, I think I always looked to be in my late thirties.

Then, sometime around my 60th birthday, nature seemed to catch up with me. It is as if all that aging that should have happened in the first 15 years of the new millennium happened in a matter of two years. My skin is dull. My face has wrinkles, which might be a good thing. Without the wrinkles keeping some of my features in place, my cheeks and jowls might be sagging down to my waist. There is certainly extensive sagging around my previously taut jawline. My back and legs tend to protest more vociferously when overexerted… or, maybe more accurately, exerted at all. My knees, always a weak point, seem to have locked up tighter than a maximum-security prison cell. Picking up items from the floor is suddenly much more difficult. I am surprised it is not an Olympic sport.

It is not that there is anything really wrong with my health. Certainly, no new illness has cropped up in the past couple of years. I am a pretty healthy person. If anything, I am healthier now than I was prior to my descent into agedness. My diet is better than it used to be. I exercise every day. My lab results are excellent. I am fortunate that the only malady that seems to plague me is this mutated version of the normal aging process. I am not complaining. It is just that the suddenness and fierceness of my elderliness is alarming. At this rate, my body will be eighty-five before I am chronologically sixty-five.

Do you think it might have something to do with senior discounts? I did qualify for some discounts when I reached 55, but many did not kick in until age 60. Does every 10% off come with a corresponding hit to my physical being? Or perhaps it is the decades of hair dye. Maybe dying my hair is like donning a pair of Spanx. When I put on Spanx, the fat does not, unfortunately, disappear. The Spanx just shoves it to another location. Maybe coloring my hair does not make me more youthful. Maybe the hair dye just shoves the aging to a different position. The dye covers my gray hair but causes other parts of me to age more. I will have to think about that one. I think I would rather have gray hair than joints that do not cooperate with my inclinations.

My brother and my cousin, bless them, tell me that I look as young as I did in junior high. My brother and my cousin are clearly liars. On the other hand, maybe their assertions bear some consideration. Let us ask ourselves a question. Do any of us really want to look like we did in junior high? I certainly do not.

Maybe aging is not that bad.

Me, as an incredibly awkward fourteen-year-old… let’s not go back in time!

Have you aged suddenly or has the process been more of a slow burn for you? What do you to keep healthy and functional as aging starts to catch up with you? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you may email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a youthful day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂