From One Boomer to Another…yikes!

1966 – 2016

1966 : Long hair
2016:  Longing for hair

1966 : KEG
2016:  EKG

1966 : Acid rock
2016:  Acid reflux

1966 : Moving to  California  because it’s cool
2016:  Moving to  Arizona  because it’s warm

1966 : Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
2016:  Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor

1966 : Seeds and stems
2016:  Roughage

1966 : Hoping for a BMW
2016:  Hoping for a BM

1966 : Going to a new, hip joint
2016:  Receiving a new hip joint

1966 : Rolling Stones
2016:  Kidney Stones

1966 : Screw the system
2016:  Upgrade the system

1966 : Disco
2016:  Costco

1966 : Parents begging you to get your hair cut
2016:  Children begging you to get their heads shaved

1966 : Passing the drivers’ test
2016:  Passing the vision test

1966 : Whatever
2016 : Depends

And…just in case you weren’t feeling old enough, this will certainly change things.

Each year the staff at Beloit College in Wisconsin puts together a list to try to give the faculty a sense of the mindset of this year’s incoming freshmen.

Here’s this year’s list:

  • The people who are starting college this fall across the nation were born in 1998.
  • They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.
  • Their lifetime has always included AIDS.
  • Bottle caps have always been screw off and plastic.
  • The CD was introduced 7 years before they were born.
  • They have always had an answering machine.
  • They have always had cable.
  • They cannot fathom not having a remote control.
  • Popcorn has always been cooked in the microwave.
  • They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.
  • They can’t imagine what hard contact lenses are.
  • They don’t know who Mork was or where he was from.
  • They never heard: “Where’s the Beef?”, “I’d walk a mile for a Camel”, or “de plane, Boss, de plane.”
  • They do not care who shot J. R. and have no idea who J. R. even is. Mc Donald’s never came in Styrofoam containers.
  • They don’t have a clue how to use a typewriter.

Do you feel old yet?

The Post Politic

As I await the dawn of my 20,075th day on this earth, I feel the need for reflection.  Time enough alive, I should think, to have learned a thing or two. Sorry to say, it hasn’t been all good.

However, owing to the fact that tomorrow is an election day here, and the boob-tube shows nothing but boobs…I couldn’t help but get stuck in the quagmire that is our government

Having learned that cliches are cliches, and euphemisms are euphemisms for good reason, and never more evident than when a pattern of behavior BEGS to be seen for exactly what it is, I do think it’s time for me to call it what it is and like I see it…

And by bullshit, I mean Politics

If you’ll allow, I give you:

The top 20 cliches and euphemisms of this 20,074 ½ day old female, who believes are alive and well in today’s bloody, rotten, stinkin’, crappy, silly, non-productive, infuriating, ridiculous, embarrassing; yet ours…world of politics

The more things change, the more they stay the same – POLITICS

A house divided against itself, cannot stand – POLITICS

Actions speak louder than words – POLITICS

Those who do not learn from history, are doomed to repeat it – POLITICS

If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em – POLITICS

Money talks – POLITICS

Stupid is as stupid does – POLITICS

Birds of a feather flock together – POLITICS

Talk is cheap – POLITICS

The ends justify the means – POLITICS

There’s one born every minute – POLITICS

The truth is stranger than fiction – POLITICS

Two wrongs don’t make a right – POLITICS

Cut off your nose to spite your face – POLITICS

Feeding frenzy – POLITICS

Out of sight, out of mind – POLITICS

The blind leading the blind – POLITICS

The status quo – POLITICS

It takes one to know one – POLITICS

A good man/woman  is hard to find – POLITICS

…and trust me, I could go on

But another pattern of behavior ‘frosts my ass’ too.   And you’ll likely notice that many of the above can be applied to what is below

I think I’ll call it the Tolerance/Intolerance Side Show to the circus that is Political Correctness:

Protesting to rename highways, parks, etc., and trying to remove monuments that celebrate confederate Generals because they fought a fight you don’t agree with

Yet…organizing campaigns to rename those same said highways, parks, etc. for people that answered the call for civil rights decades after the fact. The same protesters, I might add, who themselves never cried out for the removal from written history, all who made their lives hell

Removing the Confederate flag from all state and federal facilities because some see it as a symbol of hatred, when in fact, it was a battle flag designed to differentiate it from the Union flag and therefore has historical value; nothing more

Yet, not protesting when a world renowned symbol of the United States, The Empire State Building, is used to herald the achievements or celebrate holidays of the very countries that would like nothing more than to see the United States cease to exist

Removing something as iconic as The Duke’s of Hazard from TV Land because the car had a Confederate flag on it, even though not a single word of a single episode, ever suggested bigotry or racism or intolerance

Yet, if you’re a fan of TV Land programs, have you noticed George Jefferson says the word Honky in just about every episode?

And there are some behaviors that are not so easily categorized, yet the influence of today’s PC madness is evident in the overwhelming number of those who ascribe to these beliefs relating to color:

Listening as people of color tell me that I’ll never understand, could never relate, to what it’s like to be a person of color

True.  Yet at the same time, those said same people of color, tell me they know exactly what it is to be white, because being white means only one thing; privilege

[I get it, in theory.  But I can just as easily say that I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be a bird. It’s irrelevant.  And, another truth is that, unless you’ve walked the back roads of my life…your right to this claim is false.  So let’s stick to the truth that none of us can know what it’s like to be in another man’s shoes, unless we’ve walked in them, and call it a day.]

Sanitizing our history books to shield our kids from the worst in our country’s history, including the path of our growth (that we are still on by the way)

Yet making sure we do include a focus of study that tries to maximize a culture of them vs us, with little regard for how far we’ve come, nor teachings on the strides made in the last 200 years…as though nothing has changed

The worst of it comes out in the various ways we bite each other’s ankles…and to what end?

For instance:

Demonizing the rich for having too much

Denigrating the poor for having too little and needing more

Expecting the government to give more and more

Blaming the government for sticking it’s nose in our business

Tolerance for groups that separate and segregate

Intolerance for groups that point it out

Fighting for women’s equality

Crying that chivalry is dead

Calling for change through peaceful protest for the injustices seen in all facets of the human struggle, especially those affecting minorities

Yet some especially touched by these injustices hide behind a guise of protest for change, take it as the opportunity to loot for personal gain and destroy entire neighborhoods, then scream racism when motives are questioned

Are we so intolerant or jealous of each other’s success that we have to denigrate and belittle?
Are we so comfortable in our misery, we feel we must maintain it at all costs?
Have we forgotten what it’s like to celebrate each other to the point that every gain should be looked at as a loss because it didn’t happen 200 years ago?  100 years ago?  50?  Yesterday?

When all we have to show for the 3 centuries we’ve been a country are broken teeth and bloody socks…why the hell do we even try?

Is this to be our legacy…?

Welcome to the United States

The land of equal opportunity damning

Damned if we do

And by God

Damned if we don’t

Is the only way to prove I’m not a racist to agree with everything a person of color says and thinks?

Why?  Why can I not just agree and disagree with anyone and everyone based on what I believe and be done with it!

Conversely, is the only way to be true to your heritage as a person of color to pretend success doesn’t matter lest your peers think you an Uncle Tom or some other stupid shit?

That’s ridiculous on its face and damned insulting to every person who’s ever made more of themselves than those around them!  REGARDLESS of your heritage.

Is the only way I can prove I’m a strong woman to think and act like a man?

Shit, I’d rather be a cat (I almost said dog, but cats get away with more!)

We are better than this!

We…men, women, black, white, red, yellow, brown, HUMAN…are better than this!

This began as a reflection in the wading pool that is this political swamp, but resulted in getting caught in the current of political correctness, and nearly drowning in the tidal wave of whatthefuckarewethinking!

Enough already!



I end it here…I am 55 tomorrow.
I am seeing the country I love implode because of an agenda I have no interest in adopting as my own.

I am proud to be an American.
I am proud to be a Christian.
I am proud to hold the values I hold and don’t feel the need to label them one way or the other.
I am proud to be a woman.
I hold no pride in being white…I have ZERO say in that.
Nor do I maintain guilt because of it.
I am proud to champion anyone who leaves the world a better place.
I don’t see the race or religion.
I could care two-shits for the land that you hailed from as long as you take good care of the one you are living in.
I will celebrate your achievements, but none so much as your paying forward that which you can to those that cannot.

I am a member of one race – the human one – and unless you expect me to give that up – I’ll always welcome you at my table


My Life-Bucket List

We’ve all heard of a Bucket List.
With another birthday looming, I can’t help but look at mine and say
Aw Crap! Another year gone and the bucket’s about where it was last year.”

But, that’s just one bucket right?
We have more than one bucket surely.
I know I do.
I probably have more buckets than I have lists!

But this did get me thinking…do I have a Life-Bucket?
A Life-Bucket List?
Never heard of it?
That’s okay, it’s nothing official, just a easy way to visualize it.

Being a list person to the nth degree, I find I actually DO have one.
I draw from it; this life-bucket; and drink from it to nourish the virtues, qualities, lessons, reminders, etc., of and for, the person I’m working to be

I also choke on it once in a while, but that’s all part of it isn’t it? Learning to drink without choking?

You may agree with all, or some, or none at all.

And that’s okay.

Do you have one? Would you share it if you did?

I think of it as a resource – a life resource.
A very personal gift from me to myself.

Still, it’s one I am happy to share.

Now, just because it’s on my list, doesn’t mean I follow it perfectly.
I believe in it perfectly, drink from it religiously, but it is a fluid work in progress.

And this is one bucket whose contents will remain fluid.
I fill it; I kick it over; I shoot it full of holes.
What matters is that I re-fill it.
What matters is that I remember it’s there so I can draw from it.
It may never be perfectly filled, at least until I am no more.

But, what is left in it is where those who know and love me, will see me reflected.
So I fill it with care.

Always…I fill it with care.

My Life-Bucket List:

The most destructive habit……………………………………..Worry
The greatest Joy…………………………………………………….Giving
The greatest Loss……………………………………………………Self Respect
The most satisfying work…………………………………………Helping Others
The ugliest personality trait……………………………………..Selfishness
The most endangered species…………………………………Dedicated Leaders
Our greatest natural resource………………………………….Our Youth and Our Elderly
The greatest ‘shot in the arm’…………………………………..Encouragement
The greatest problem to overcome…………………………..Fear
The most effective sleeping pill………………………………..Peace of Mind
The most crippling failure disease…………………………….Excuses
The most powerful force in life…………………………………Love
The most dangerous outcast……………………………………A Gossip
The most incredible computer………………………………….The Brain
The worst thing to be without…………………………………..Hope
The deadliest weapon………………………………………………The Tongue
The two most power-filled words………………………………I Can
The greatest asset……………………………………………………..Faith
The most worthless emotion……………………………………..Self Pity
The most beautiful attire……………………………………………A Smile
The most prize possession…………………………………………Integrity
The most powerful channel of communication…………..Prayer
The most contagious spirit………………………………………..Enthusiasm
Our greatest teacher…………………………………………………Experience

Now get out there and fill your buckets!

Cheers 🙂

Older Than Dirt!

A young person asked the other day “What was your favorite fast food when you were growing up?”

I answeredWe didn’t have fast food when I was growing up.  It was all slow.”

C’mon, seriously” he continued,  “Where did you eat?”

I sighed that older person’s sigh and answeredIt was a place called home.”

To clarify, I told him Mom cooked every day and when Dad got home from work, we sat down together at the dining room table.”  I further explained “And if I didn’t like what she put on my plate, I was allowed to sit there until I did!”

By this time, the kid was laughing so hard I was afraid he was going to suffer serious internal damage, so I didn’t tell him the part about how I had to have permission to leave the table.

Here are some other things I would have told him about my childhood if I figured his system could have handled it: 

Some parents NEVER owned their own house, wore Levis , set foot on a golf course, travelled out of the country or had a credit card .

My parents never drove me to school. I had two good legs and at one point a bicycle that weighed probably 50 pounds, and it only had one speed -S L O W

The first television in our house was, of course, black and white, but there was a screen we could put on it that turned the sky blue and the grass green.  The 3 stations we had went off the air at 11, after playing the national anthem. It came back on the air at about 6 a.m. and there was usually a locally produced news and farm show on, featuring local people.  The only stuff worth watching was on Saturday mornings and Sunday nights.  Period!

I never had a telephone in my room. The only phone was on a party line and before you could dial, you had to listen and make sure some people weren’t already using the line.  If so, you’d hang up and wait.  Or if you were like me, you’d listen 😉

Pizzas were not delivered to our home… But milk was.

All newspapers were delivered by boys and all boys delivered newspapers.  My brother delivered a newspaper, six days a week before school and on Saturday.

Movie stars kissed with their mouths shut. At least, they did in the movies!  There were no movie ratings because all movies were responsibly produced for everyone to enjoy viewing, without profanity or violence or most anything offensive .

(Growing up isn’t what it used to be, is it?)

Another memory (that, according to this generation, prove I’m older than dirt!)

Have you ever seen a cola bottle with a stopper with holes in it and wondered what it was?  Did you ever see your mother or grandmother iron and see them use it?  If yes, you are as old as dirt too!  If not, you’ll have no idea.  I’ve heard kids guess it was a homemade salt shaker.  Wrong.  It was to sprinkle water on clothes that were being ironed.  They didn’t have steam irons, so they made their own!  I got a steam iron when I got married, but before then?
Sprinkle Sprinkle Sprinkle!

(Man, I am old!)

Okay, here’s an Older Than Dirt Quiz :

How many do you remember?  Count all the ones that you remember, NOT the ones you were told about  (Ratings at the bottom)

Head lights dimmer switches on the floor
Ignition switches on the dashboard

Pant leg clips for bicycles without chain guards

Wearing plastic bread bags over your shoes instead of boots

Curling irons you heat on a gas burner or wood stove
Using hand signals for cars without turn signals
Candy cigarettes
Coffee shops with table side juke boxes
Home milk delivery in glass bottles 
Party lines on the telephones
Newsreels before the movie

Serials and cartoons before the movie
Drive Ins
test patterns that came on at night after the last show before and were there until TV shows started again in the morning
Cap guns
It’s Howdy Doody
45s and 78s records
33 1/3 Hi-fi records
Metal ice trays with lever
Blue flashbulbs
Cork popguns
Wash tub wringers

If you remembered 0-3 = You’re still young
If you remembered 3-6 = You are getting older
If you remembered 7-10 = Don’t tell your age
If you remembered 11+ = You’re older than dirt !!

We might be older than dirt but those memories are some of the best parts of our lives

Size Matters ~ It’s a Matter of Size

 – SIZE MATTERS                                 IS IT A MATTER OF SIZE? – 

A recent dream discussion led me down this path

I have this dream discussion often

The caricatures characters change

Then again, they really don’t

They are always me, myself, and I female

There are always wailing tears

When I met the man I was to marry – I was in my prime at a svelte size 12

(He rocked a 30″ waist with a rock hard shame on you chest and bulging      stop it arms)

When we married – I was an even svelter size 10

(He maintained his inches in all respects)

When we accidentally made the decision to get pregnant – I rocketed to a “Dayum! Do they even make clothes that big?” size Who Gives a Shit, I’m Pregnant

(Again, he maintained his inches and bulged in all the right places 😯 )

Post first born and Pre second born – I regained my pre-marriage svelteness at size 12 with only a slight shift in distribution

(Somewhere around here, he upsized to 32″ despite developing noassatol syndrome)

Post second born – Let’s just say, svelte was forever in the rearview.  I was proud to have achieved a 14 with zero qualms of how I looked cuzzzzzzzz I looked good and behaved like I believed it!

(This is 6 years in and he’s effortlessly sporting that 32″)

[These were the days of meeting him at the door in one of his t-shirts that went ‘just’ down to there, or one of his dress shirts buttoned ‘just’ up to there.  Ya know?]

Now…fast forward 25 years, 7 states, 16 or more, I’m too tired to count addresses, later – I’m coming in at a fluffier size 18 to his 34″ and questioning a severely intimacy challenged marriage of 30 years

A challenge to my desirability and to his commitment

A challenge we both decided we didn’t want to engage in anymore

A challenge we both walked away from; me leaving, him allowing me to

A challenge that was one stroke of the pen away from no longer being a challenge but a divorce

We each fought our demons

We each made the decision to try again

We each found our way back to the love that was always there but had been taken for granted

We each found our way back to loving each other in all ways and knowing we’d made the right decision

And. It. Was. Good.

Even though were I to have met him at the door in one of his t-shirts then, he’d have asked when I’d bought a new sports bra…we’d have laughed because

We. Were. Good.

Fast forward again…three years later, to the here and now the last place I want to or thought I’d be, again

This time in our lives when we’ve made big decisions to show each other that WE are what’s important

Decisions that took us off one road and put our feet on another, for all the right reasons or so I thought

Decisions that I see now, perhaps only delayed the inevitable

It hurts worse now…after the trying and the changes

It hurts worse now because what is there left to do besides try to become something I’m not, thin, but even if I was or could be again, I’d never trust him for loving that me and not this me

It hurts worse now because there is nothing in the way; nothing to blame…

But myself for becoming something he didn’t bargain for

The honest truth is…it’s harder to live with the fact that he says he loves you, shows you he does in lots of little ways, but can’t in the way he would if you were even close to who or what you used to be, or at least, not what you are today, which is a hefty bag size 20 who’s food intake is far less than the average 10 year old

It’s harder to live with knowing you’re loved so much that he can’t imagine living without you, yet can’t show you that he knows and sees you are still the woman he married somewhere in there under all that life the way you can see him as the man you married under the gray hair, age spots, saggy butt, and not too bulging arms because…

the outside only drew you in…it was the inside that knocked you out

I know we are no longer teenagers

I also know, this is the time we were both working toward and looking forward to

We grow in our lives and in our love

We change our minds and change our outlooks

We transcend some things and put up with others

We shouldn’t have unrealistic expectations

But we shouldn’t settle for less than we deserve need either

So…I find myself at a crossroad once again

I’ve found this way of living and loving leaves me feeling at a loss lost

Self Esteem – Self-esteem is what we think and feel and believe about ourselves

Self Worth – Self-worth is recognizing “I am greater than all of those things”

What does this mean to me?

Well…there’s no question that my self esteem has taken a huge hit through all of this.  As the esteem comes from those things that make us feel good about ourselves

Nothing about the last year adds shit to mine

So…that leaves my feelings of self worth

Self worth is a deep knowing of your worth.  An honest belief that you are valuable, worth loving, and necessary

This has very little, if anything, to do with your self esteem

Surprising to me, is that I KNOW my worth.  Through it all, for the first time ever maybe, I KNOW my self worth

I know I’m valuable – I know I’m lovable – I know I’m necessary

Which leaves me with this…I know I’m worthy of complete love, so why am I accepting less?

Is it really such a bad thing that I have all but become a hermit…not leaving the house unless I absolutely have to, because if someone who LOVES me sees me this way, how the hell does the rest of the world see me?

Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things that the best I can hope for is an “I love you” as he rolls over to go to sleep?

Am I over reacting when he reaches to hold my hand and I pull it away because my thoughts immediately go to “I don’t want to give you the impression that I’ll settle for that” so I’ll give you nothing instead?

The worst part is…

I love kissing hello and kissing goodbye

I have always loved walking hand in hand, knowing the hand I’m holding wants to hold mine and let the world know I’m his and he’s mine

But I find I no longer want to be offered those things, as I see them as a consollation prize to the big show

The worst part is…how fucked up is that?

The worst part is…I deny the simple things I truly love because I can’t have it all.

AND it confuses me

Am I crazy?

Am I, at 54, supposed to let all of that go?

Did I go through Menopause for this?

Should I be telling myself that all people our age are giving it up without a fight?

Should I be content with what I have and piss off what I don’t?  There’s nothing wrong with companionship if companionship is what you want.

Even though I take the blame because I’m not a size 10 or 12 anymore?

I don’t know

I. Just. Don’t. Know.

Sorry…this was a shit filled ass post

An exercise in self pity if there ever was one and yes, it’s disgusting

I didn’t have to write this here, but it’s my page so I did

I just want to know…why can’t I let it go?

I want to let it go

I want to

I want

Shit…how selfish is that?

No Comments Needed…I’ll figure it out.


An Age-Old Question…

For An Old-Age Mind…

What is it about later in life birthdays?

They often find one
sitting alone in a room
4 hours past the witching hour
with naught but
the eerily compelling
softly alluring glow
of artificial light
and mechanical heat
for company?

Whether alone by choice
or by insomnia
is beside the point
it’s the kind of alone
that’s not lonely.

It’s that kind of…

Alone in the dark
snugged in a corner of the couch
covered chin to toes but for the exposed
elbow that bends
the hand that holds
the wine that fuels
the brain to ask


She gives in to the pull
sets down the glass
throws off the throw
unfurls the limbs
settles in front
and kisses the lips
of her secret keeping
story telling
question asking but
answer withholding

Hoping that somewhere
out there

She’s met or
has yet to meet
at least one or
even better
a good number of you
older and wiser
new friends

And may it please you and to
you pray…

Can one of you?
Any of you?
By all that you hold dear?


Tell me?

Which came first?

The Chicken OR The Fucking EGG?

This, my friends, is what it
looks like
sounds like
feels like
to get old

Sitting alone in the dark, blahddy fucking blah, at what is now 3am, trying to celebrate another year, ONE HELL OF A YEAR AT THAT, of getting fatter, wrinklier, forgettier, and grayer.

I’m up to 54 shades and I haven’t found the answer yet!

Maybe that’s the point…

To keep on looking?


I Want to know!
I Have to know!
I Need to know!

Boggles the mind….


As I was lying around, pondering the problems of the world…


I realized a few things…

  • At my age I don’t really give

a rat’s ass anymore.

  • If walking is good for your health,

the postman would be immortal.

  • A whale swims all day, mainly eat fish, drinks water,

but is still fat.

  • A rabbit runs and hops

and only lives 15 years


  • A tortoise doesn’t run, does mostly nothing,

yet lives for 150 years.

Exercise you say?


Pfffft….it’s Nap Time!

Lost and Found

Yesterday I visited a too-long forgotten toy box brought to mind by a friend.

Today I found something I’d thought lost when an earlier laptop decided to commit Hara-Kiri.

I love these reminders that I’m getting old…because now when I think I’ve lost something irreplaceable, I can at least hold out hope (if I remember to) that I’ve just forgotten that I took steps to make sure that didn’t happen.

It’s like that AH HA moment of opening the freezer and finding your favorite pair of underwear!

“Ah Ha!  Now I remember, I put you in there to help with the night sweats.”

I’m not the only one.



Okay, sure, whatever…I’ll just say it made sense at the time and I’m glad all I did was forget I put them there and not that I forgot I had them, or that I lost them, or shit….now I’m so confused.

What was I looking for?

Oh, wait…I found something.  That’s it.

I found something I thought I’d lost because I forgot I saved it just in case I lost it because I had forgotten to save it.

Ahhhhh.  There…that’s better.


So…what did the Old Lady That Lived in a Freezer find?

1200 photographs of her ‘once in a lifetime’ trip to London.

I KNOW right?  What a thing to think was lost and gone forever!

I was crazy pissed off at my(self) laptop for dying with my magical mystery tour locked inside.

But…I must have had a non-senior moment the day I put them all on DVD, which I found in the last box of ‘stuff’ pulled out of the garage because hubby finally got my bookcases put together.

And imagine my ginormous, humongous, silly ass, what in the hell did you do this time comes spewing out of the hubby’s mouth as he comes running to see what’s happened cause the wife is going ape shit, reaction?

Yup…like that.

Seriously, I swear I’ll never get pissed off when I lose something again (if I remember to) because chances are I’ll remember I just forgot and I’ll find what I lost, or remember what I forgot to remember about where I put it or…crap!

This is too much work.  I’ll just try to remember next time that I might have forgotten something.


Oh…and for the foreseeable future, I’m heading back to London.  I’m sure I’ll find something to share.


The Cab Ride


I arrived at the address and honked the horn. 

After waiting a few minutes I walked to the door and knocked.

‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice.

I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened.

A small woman in her 90’s stood before me.

She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase.

The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years.

All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters.

In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said.

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness.

‘It’s nothing’, I told her.

‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy’ she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.’

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

‘I don’t have any family left,‘ she continued in a soft voice.

‘The doctor says I don’t have very long.’

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city.

She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now’.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.

It was a low building, like a small convalescent homewith a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.

They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. 

They must have been expecting her.

opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.

The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.


‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.

She held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said

‘Thank you.’ I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.

Behind me, a door shut.

It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift.

I drove aimlessly lost in thought.

For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.


may not be the party we hoped for, but while we 
are here we might as well dance.

I received two emails this evening.

One that said “Inspiration, I think we both need it”

And hours later…I received the one I’ve just shared with you.

For me, this second email was the answer to the first.

Thank you to those who always know…when I need a lift up.

~♥~I love you~♥~