Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Developing an Attitude of Gratitude

May 26, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

You may not be a Christian. You may not be a person of any sort of faith. But I strongly believe developing a grateful attitude is an important component of finding contentment and peace in this troubled world in which we live. No doubt there are other factors, but having a grateful attitude, no matter what the circumstances, can help.

I was privileged a couple of weeks ago to lead our ladies’ class at church in a devotional and discussion about this topic. The reason? My own journey and what I’ve learned.

Why have I finally learned to grasp the full meaning of gratitude? Call it having lived long enough to have experienced many of life’s ups and downs.. Call it having a lot of time on my hands to reflect. Call it being a deep thinker.

It’s all of that and more.

The truth is that it’s easy to be grateful for our blessings and good things in life when things are going well. Yet even when they’re goin well, we often are guilty of not appreciating what we have. For example, are we not only grateful for our food but also for the fact we get to choose what we want to eat? In the United States, people relying upon assistance to buy groceries cannot afford the healthier options, but even they have more choices than people in many third-world or developing countries. In Cuba, for instance, residents are given a ration card that allows them to have one pound of chicken per person each month. They are allowed five eggs per month per person, but that has been unstable, and they often don’t get eggs at all.

Cuba is just one example.

We’re spoiled. We have heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer. We have enough clothes that we are concerned with fashion instead of clothes to wear for modesty and comfort. Most of us sleep on a comfortable mattress at night instead of a thin pallet on a hard floor.

You see where I’m going with this. We take things for granted until or unless we don’t have them.

Like income until we lose our job. Like health until we get the cancer or another life-threatening r diagnosis. Like walking until an accident or health issue robs us of that ability. Like family and friends until death takes them away from us.

Yet even in those times we can have gratitude. Maybe not at first. We are grieving, and there is nothing in the Bible that tells us not to grieve. It is a human emotion, and God doesn’t expect us to be a Miss Pollyanna about everything in life. It’s okay to hurt. It’s expected. It’s okay to grieve. It’s normal and part of the healing process. Even if it takes years.

Experiencing loss of a loved one? Grieve, but be grateful for the friends and family who are there to support you. Diagnosed with cancer and enduring harsh treatments? Be grateful there are medicines available now to treat the condition. Being grateful for those things doesn’t make the struggle you are enduring go away, nor does it make you feel better in the moment. The weight of your struggle far overshadows the good things we are guilty of taking for granted. But maybe, just maybe, counting your blessings and expressing gratitude for them will help.

Christians know about the apostle Paul, who penned the verses I have written on the handout pictured, He endured beatings, imprisonment, rejection, public ridicule, and shipwrecks. He eventually was killed because of his Christian faith. Yet he wrote that the people of Thessalonica, and us as readers of his letters, should give thanks in all circumstances. He practiced what he preached.

You know what I’m thankful for with my vision loss? I went through two or three years of true depression. I cried. A lot. I never asked, “Why me?”, but I desperately wanted my independence back and my ability to see the world clearly. I started praying for the ability to accept and adapt, and that is what happened. I didn’t receive a treatment that would fix things. I didn’t get normal vision back. But I found a new purpose in life.

My purpose is to help others going through vision loss. I have made friends with legally blind and completely blind people from California to Arizona to Kentucky to Virginia to all parts of Tennessee. I am so grateful for those friendships. I am grateful for the opportunities to share and to help.

Please don’t tell me you admire me or that I inspire you. I’m just a person being true to who I am. It is nothing special. And my functional vision allows me to live a very normal life in most ways. The people that inspire me are the ones who have endured much worse, such as the loss of a child or spouse or health, who endure what I cannot imagine.

And the truth is, I may join that number someday if I live long enough. The vision loss has made me more empathetic to others, and I’m grateful. It’s made me more appreciative of the sounds of birds in the early morning, m ability to walk for miles at a time, of friends and family who drive me places or serve as my eyes when needed. I’m grateful for technology that allows me to do what I’m doing right now–writing–since that has been one of my greatest joys ever since I picked up a pencil and learned to spell.

I hope you no matter what you are enduring, can feel true gratitude for the other things in your life that are good. I hope you can find the peace I’ve found. I’m not always content, I’m ashamed to say, because I am restless and get bored easily, so when I can’t go and do what I want to do when I want to do it, I can get down and out.

Then I think of some friends and family going through much worse, and I’m ashamed for my feelings. How minor they are in the scheme of things.

Gratitude. True gratitude. Maybe it’s the first step toward true peace and contentment.

Do you feel blah on “gray days?”

May 21, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

I do. I admit it. Some people may call it SAD (seasonal affective disorder), but where I live, it’s not seasonal. It’s any season at any given time, so I just call them “gray days.”

January, however, is the worst. Anyone own a beautiful home in Arizona we can rent cheaply for the month of January…and bring our 70-pound dog who thinks it’s his duty to find every underground creature in existence, even if it means digging all the way to China?

I didn’t think so.

When I was working, gray days didn’t bother me as much. I was working in a school with artificial lighting and was very busy. Retirement, however, means I am home almost every day, and according to my research our state has 116.1 days of rain, on average, and that’s not counting those days that are just cloudy.

Some people love cloudy days. Kudos to you. Wish I did. Once every couple of weeks is okay. But I have no control over any of that, and I realize we need the rain to support life as we know it. (Like how I brought in a reference to the title of my blog? Speaking of which, I normally blog once a week but because of family being here this weekend, I was compelled to blog today.)

Back to gray days. If you are prone to that blah feeling, you have two choices. Curl up with a book or in front of the TV, drink some hot tea, and wait for sunnier weather. I can’t do that. I hate…let me repeat, I hate…inactivity during the daytime. Sure, I don’t mind taking my time getting started in the mornings, but to sit around and watch TV or listen to audiobooks all day is my idea of torture. It’s almost as bad as sitting with someone in a hospital, and while that is sometimes necessary and the kind thing to do, I don’t know of anyone who actually likes it.

So what do I do to counteract the gray days? I ask Alexa to play music from the sixties or seventies, and when I hear songs that make me want to move, I get up and move. I might do an exercise routine or simply dance around the room (thank goodness no one is watching). If it’s not raining, I take that 70-pound dog for a long walk and sometimes drop him back to the house and continue the long walk. I call shut-ins, thinking they may be experiencing the blahs more than usual on a gray day. Sometimes I reach out to a friend to go to lunch. I dig out old photos and look at them using my DaVinci CCTV or while waring my IrisVision headset, but to be honest, that is so much work with the vision issues, I can’t do it for long. I still can’t see them very well, and it can be exhausting. I do art projects. I play solitaire with large-print poker cards Barry gave me years ago.

You may not care about gray days or my suggestions, and that’s fine. We each handle things in our own way. And maybe I’m blogging about this as a form of therapy to sort out what I will do with myself today while my husband is at work and I have no transportation to go do things away from the house. Don’t tell me to call a friend and ask her to take me places. It’s not happening. I only call friends to take me places when it’s absolutely necessary not just because it’s a boring, gray day. And, you know what? Even if my husband were not working, I wouldn’t ask him to drive me around while I do…what? He is always willing, but it’s just not the same as when I was able to get in the car and just do my own thing.

Not complaining (well, not much), just explaining. It is what it is. There are people dealing with many more serious problems–physical, mental, emotional–, and this minor bump in the road is nothing compared to what they’re going through.

You may be wondering about the photo. I took it a few minutes ago to show the gray sky, but while I was doing so, I was reminded of how much I love sitting on my front porch. It is one of my happy places. In the early mornings, the birds make beautiful music I can hear so well because there is no traffic at 6:30 in the morning. When it’s raining and not lightning, I can enjoy the sounds of the rain. I sit out there and listen to audiobooks at times. I chat on the phone with friends. Sometimes I just sit and listen.

Everyone should have a happy place, so I hope you have one. Thanks for allowing me to write (one of my joys) and sort out my thoughts. I think it’s time to move to some music by The Beach Boys and other groups from the past then pull out the watercolors and do something abstract, then walk that dog of mine. I’ll just have to make sure no rain is on the way when I do.

Happy gray day to those of you experiencing what I am, and happy sunny day to the rest!

Accepting your limitations doesn’t mean giving up

May 17, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Oh, my, I can’t believe the irony of trying to get this post done! I typed the title then encountered several tech problems, and I was so frustrated I was talking out loud to my laptop and TV to which it is attached–really! But I didn’t give up, so here I go.

First, let me clarify the title. This is not a “Michael Jordan didn’t make his high school basketball team, and look how his perseverance paid off!” type of blog. Nor is it a “you can do whatever you set your mind to do!” That is the biggest lie we tell our children and the biggest lie we tell ourselves.

Don’t get me wrong. We should aspire to achieve. Well if we are made that way. The truth is, many people don’t care about ambition or achievement or success. They are perfectly happy living their lives more simply and are satisfied with the amount of money they earn, the place they live, and the life they’re living. But even they may find themselves giving up when facing an obstacle that seems insurmountable.

What I’m talking about is giving up on yourself. Giving up on doing the things you love. Giving up because you feel you don’t have what it takes to do certain things.

Another clarification: There ARE things in life we can’t overcome. My friend who has been paralyzed for over 30 years can have all the positive thoughts she wants, but those thoughts won’t make her walk again. I can will myself to see better all I want, but those retinas aren’t going to do what I will them to do. I can’t drive anymore. I can’t read books to my granddaughters. I accept those facts.

The interesting comparison of my friend’s disability and mine? She, the paralyzed one, can drive using hand controls. She can move about in her wheelchair. I can’t drive, but I’m strong and healthy and can walk long distances. She can read to herself and to others. I rely on screen readers and audiobooks.

She and I both had choices to make. We could be afraid to learn something new and wallow in our unfortunate conditions or we could look for ways to overcome.

You don’t have to have a disability to give up on yourself. I’ve seen it far too many times. The talented singer who is afraid to sing in front of others yet wants to have a recording career. The student with average intelligence (she thinks) who is too intimidated to go to college or to train in a job that is interesting to her. The overweight adult who wants to lose weight but refuses to exercise or eat a healthy diet because it’s too hard.

They’ve all given up on themselves.

I did that a few years ago. Before I knew about the resources and technology that would help me live a more normal life, I gave away all my art supplies because I thought I’d never be able to paint or sketch again. I cancelled my WordPress subscription. I even cancelled my Microsoft Word subscription.

Bad mistake. I grew even more depressed. It was bad enough being stuck at home with limited things to do, but to deny myself the two activities in life that I love the most–writing and art–was much like you sports fans who stop watching ballgames and golf just because you can’t play them anymore.

Hmmm…I’m not too sure about that analogy. There are plenty of sports fans who never played sports or who were never super good who still love to watch them, so…oh, well, I think you get what I’m trying to say.

I missed art, and after about a year, I bought more supplies. My neighbor is a talented artist who has an art studio in which she hosts art classes. She teaches techniques, but she allows each person to work on their own projects, and she is available to help when they have a problem. I went to her classes off and on for about a year before I decided my amateur attempts with my vision loss were not worth the small amount I paid to use her expertise and facilities.

That doesn’t mean I stopped painting. I do my own thing, and even though my projects (two are in the picture) will never grace anyone’s walls but my own (or actually shoved away in a closet), that doesn’t stop me from “channeling my inner Picasso.” Would I love to be a serious student and produce good quality work? Of course. But I can’t, so I do what I can.

I renewed my subscription to WordPress and Microsoft Word, and I began to write again. It didn’t matter to me if anybody read what I wrote or not. Writing was, and is, just something I have to do.

A good thing to come of that? My book about vision loss. I’ve given away as many copies as I’ve sold, so it’s not a money-maker, but it has helped people.

I have a feeling some of you reading this have given up on yourself in some way. You’ve told yourself something is too hard to do or you don’t have enough talent or you don’t have enough ability. And I’m not saying you will achieve whatever you want in life if you work hard enough. You might. You might not.

Accept your limitations. Accept your circumstances if they can’t be changed. But don’t give up on yourself. Find joy in the journey.

A legacy and a recipe–thanks, Mom

May 10, 2026May 10, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

She thrived being a homemaker. Working at “public work,” as she called it, was never her cup of tea until she went to work part-time at Walmart in the fabrics department when she was in her sixties. She loved that job.

She kept a clean, almost immaculate house. She cooked, sewed, ran errands, taught children’s Bible classes, and, to supplement our family’s income, baby-sat three children, sometimes four, back during a time when daycares didn’t exist and women working outside the home were in the minority.

She never was the type to sit around and watch TV in the daytime. My earliest memories of her involve the things I’ve mentioned plus letter writing. Lots of it. We had moved from Tennessee to Arizona when I was three, and she wrote letters each week to her parents. She also wrote to her sisters and brother, but I’m not sure how often she did that.

Did I mention she took in ironing for other people? My dad worked in the newspaper industry, and there were times he picked up second jobs, so they both worked hard to keep our family of four living simply yet comfortably.

It was the sixties. When we moved back to Tennessee, my dad was earning ore money in a managerial position, my older brother was married, and I was in junior high. She continued to cook, clean, and sew many of my clothes. She continued to run all the errands.

One things she did that I haven’t mentioned yet is she was always teaching me. I learned to cook at an early age. The story I’m about to share is true.

When I was four, I became very sick with amoebic dysentery (we were in Arizona, a state not even 50 years old at the time). I got better, then she got it and ended up in the hospital. After she came home, she was still very weak, so somehow, for some reason, I decided to make homemade biscuits.

Yes I was four. Yes, I had my dad’s help, but she gave directions from her bed, and in my mind, I made them.

After the biscuits were made, she took a couple of bites and then asked what bowl I had used to mix the biscuit dough. I told her, and she said, “That’s the bowl I use to change the water in the fish bowl.” In other words, that was the bowl she put my goldfish and fresh water in while she cleaned out and added fresh water to the actual fish bowl.

She remember end laughed about that until she died.

When I was nine, she started teaching me how to sew. She had a treadle sewing machine, and at the time you could purchase material with the patterns in black lines for Barbie clothes. I’m sure my first attempts were horrible, but I learned. My freshman year of high school I took home ec and learned more about sewing and cooking. Both became mainstays of life for me. My high school graduation present was an electric sewing machine, and I used it until my vision got so bad I couldn’t sew anymore. That machine was used a lot and lasted…well, let’s not go into how many years.

She was not a perfect mother, just as I’m not. She wasn’t a perfect person, just as I’m not. But she loved her family with the fierceness of a mother bear, a love that was sometimes smothering, but it came from a good place. I have tried to emulate her in the good ways and avoid the not-so-good aspects of her mothering, and I am sure I’m not the only mother who has tried to do that.

A sidenote: (you know I always have a sidenote) Mom was not the kind of mother I could confide in about my problems. For example, her response to. me when a boyfriend broke up with me or maybe just a boy I had gone out with once or twice and he never called again, was “I wouldn’t want somebody that didn’t want me.” Or when I came home crying from school in seventh grade because kids had called me names because of my too-thick glasses and too–skinny body, her response was, “I’d tell them they’re not so good-looking.” Not, “Pam, you’re beautiful.” She didn’t say that because she didn’t think it, ha ha! She was always trying to “fatten” me up. But one activity I hated doing with her when I was young but enjoyed doing with her when I was sixteen and older was shopping together and going out to eat. Those events brought her the greatest joy, and we continued doing them as longs she was able and I had the ability to drive. To all you daughters, I hope you know how much your mother wants to spend t time with you. Mother’s Day is a great time to honor mothers, but honor your mother all year. You’ll regret it someday if you don’t.

Back to my topic now. I am grateful for all Mom taught me. She was known in our family for several of her creations, especially pecan pie, minute steak, and coconut pie. Here’s her recipe if you want to try it out.

Coconut custard pie

2 frozen deep-dish pie shells, thawed

1 1/2 cups sugar plus 2 tablespoons for meringe

2 tablespoons flour

3 cups 2% or whole milk

Six large eggs, divided (put egg whites in a bowl that cane be used with an electric mixer)

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon vanilla flavoring

Approximately 2 1/2 cups flaked coconut

Instructions:

After pie crusts have thawed, use fork to poke holes in the bottom of each. I do this five or six times. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for ten minutes

For the filling, you will need a double boiler.. In the top pan of the double boiler, stir together 1 1/2 cups sugar, flour, milk, and egg yolks. Fill bottom of double boiler 3/4 full of water.

Cook on high, stirring occasionally and adding water to the bottom pan until mixture coats a wooden spoon. This may take as long as an hour and a half. I sometimes use a whisk to make sure lumps do not form. Remove from heat and add butter and vanilla flavoring. Stir well. Stir in 1 1/2 cups of coconut and pour evenly into two pie shells.

In a separate bowl where you have placed the egg whites, add a few dashes of cream of tartar or a few dashes of salt and beat until stiff peaks form. Add two tablespoons sugar, then spread meringue mixture on top of custard. Sprinkle coconut on top of meringue, using as much or as little as you’d like.

Place in 350o-degree oven and bake until meringue is lightly browned. Cool pies completely, then cover and place in refrigerator to chill. My dad always preferred coconut pie served warm, but if you do this, the custard filling will be thin. It is best to chill for firmness.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Look out–I’m about to vent!

May 4, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

You know what I want for these two precious girls? I want them to grow up to have a good work ethic, to be community-minded and law-abiding citizens, to choose careers or vocations that they enjoy, and to be able to earn money, if needed, to support themselves and their families. I want them to have knowledge and gain wisdom. I want them to be kind but to stand firm on their convictions. As a Christian, I want them to be Christians as well. I want them to be able to own up to their mistakes. I want them to be responsible. I want them to contribute to society, not take away from it.

But from what I’m hearing about education these days, I’m concerned. I’m hearing that teachers are no longer allowed to give a “zero” if a student does not turn in an assignment or make up a quiz or test. I’m hearing that a grade of 60 to 69 is a passing grade (D). I’m hearing that parents do not want their children held accountable. And I’m hearing that schools are playing the numbers game. They are forcing teachers to teach to the test. Yes, teachers are expected to teach the standards, but they do not have the freedom to teach the basics.

What do I mean by that? I mean that most students no longer know the basics. Ask any seventh grader to subtract 30 from 125, and chances are he’ll need a calculator. Even high school students can’t construct a complete sentence.

“Big deal,” you may say. “I couldn’t do that either, and I still can’t.”

Maybe some changes in education are not a big deal. I don’t think it’s a big deal that cursive is no longer taught. I don’t think it’s a big deal that students can’t do mental math since they are very proficient with calculators, but I think most teachers would agree that most students do not have the ability to reason and think.

True, there are some good things going on in high schools with dual credit programs, but you know what local college professors are telling me? The same thing middle and high school teachers are saying.

There is no accountability. Students expect to receive a grade for doing very little.

Who’s to blame? The schools? The education department? Maybe. After all, they’re so concerned with retention rates being low and graduation rates being high, they don’t care if the students actually learn anything. Blame the parents? Yes, for many. Even when I was teaching, I sometimes had a parent beg me to pass a student at the end of the year who had not passed a single grading period because of excessive absences and failure to make up quizzes and tests.

I get it. Parents have their own bad memories of school and want to protect their children from those experiences. But they are doing their child a huge disservice.

A nursing home manager recently told me that employees these days are unreliable. “They work a few days to earn enough money to pay whatever bills they have to pay, then they miss work because they don’t want to come in,” she said.

Can you imagine how that hinders the service given in a nursing home, to the sick and elderly who need care and help, but the nursing home can’t provide what is needed because of short staffing?

I know lazy people have always been around, but it does seem the numbers are growing.

“How,” you ask, “would you fix it?”

Well since you asked, I’ll tell you.

First, go back to basics in the elementary grades. No calculators allowed until sixth grade. Parents begin reading to their children from infancy. Teachers continue to read to children, not just short stories but books. Focus on math, reading, and language until sixth grade. Yes, teach science but incorporate it into the reading, language, and math components. Expand in middle school with more in-depth science and social studies lessons. Provide opportunities for physical exercise, music, and the arts. Give students a wide variety of experiences.

In high school, go back to the two-path system. Let students who have no interest in going to college learn trades. Don’t force them to take chemistry and advanced biology and four years of math to graduate (with the lowest level being Algebra 1). Let the college-bound students pursue those courses. Students can choose the dual path system in which they complete coursework for both.

But, most of all, make them accountable from an early age. As far as the state testing…in Texas on one test passing is 31% correct. Really? When I was in school (when dinosaurs roamed the earth), a 74 on a test was failing.

If the test is so hard that 31% correct means passing, maybe the test writers need to re-examine the tests. When I was in the classroom and gave a test that students did poorly on, I re-examined the test along with my teaching. I used it as a tool, re-taught the material, and gave a different test.

This is Teacher Appreciation Week, and if you’ve never done that job, you have no idea how challenging and difficult it can be. There is a reason so many are leaving the profession.

To you teachers who haven’t given up and are continuing to do your best, thank you. Our society needs more people like you, but we also need people who are making decisions about education and parents to look in the mirror. Those of you in the education department–stop playing the numbers game. Listen to what the teachers are telling you. I know not every teacher is a good teacher, and they need to be ‘”relieved of their duties.” But listen to the teachers with experience. They’re the ones in the classroom dealing with issues you cannot imagine.

And to parents–if you truly want what’s best for your children, have expectations. Help them learn. Make them accountable. Teach them to be responsible and accept the consequences of their choices.

As a former educator and grandmother, I am disheartened by what I’m seeing and hearing. I want my grandchildren to make our world a better place. To do that, they need great teachers and an education policy that focuses on student learning instead of inflated numbers that make the district look good.

Once again, to the teachers who are doing their jobs–thank you. I hope your students will recognize you this week in some way, either with an expression of thanks, a nice note, or simply putting forth more effort than they normally do. And I hope they show you respect.

You deserve that and more.

The Kentucky Derby Is Saturday!

April 28, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Blame it on those Trixie Belden books I read growing up. Blame it on Black Beauty. Blame it on My Friend Flicka.

Whatever the reason, I have loved horses since I was a little girl. Even as young as six years old, I begged my parents for a pony, long before I could read the books I mentioned.

In 2024, we traveled with friends to Lexington, Kentucky where we did some sight-seeing at the Kentucky Horse Park and Claiborne Farm, located just outside of Lexington. That is where the photo was taken, and what you see is me feeding a horse a peppermint–a horse worth millions of dollars.

I know many of you are into football and other team sports, and many of you enjoy watching golf and tennis (and pickle ball!). But the highlight of sports for me is The Kentucky Derby.

It wasn’t always that way. Sure, I loved movies like Seabiscuit and Secretariat (who is buried at Claiborne Farm, by the way), but other than a slight interest in the hats and dresses worn by the women attending the event, the race at Churchill Downs in Louisville was nothing significant.

Until a few years ago when my husband and I were watching the pre-race broadcast, and I was impressed by the beauty of the horses and enjoyed listening to their stories. I analyzed each as they made their way to the starting gate, and I told my husband which one I thought would win based upon my observation, nothing more. The one I selected was not favored, but…you guessed it, he won

That prompted me to do the same thing the next year. I analyzed based upon my observation only, and…yes, he won.

The next few years I picked a horse than won either first, second, or third.

No, I never placed a bet. I never plan to do that.

But it has become a personal challenge, competing with myself, which is my favorite type of competition. I am not competitive with others, but I’ve always been competitive with myself.

I don’t know if horse racing is humane or not, but I heard there are regulations and guidelines in place to protect the well-being of the horses. I hope so. I think they’re beautiful animals, and cruelty to any animal, beautiful or not, speaks volumes to me about someone’s character.

I haven’t ridden a horse in at least fifteen years, I don’t think, and I never had the opportunity to go horseback riding as often as I would have liked. So, like the wannabe athletes who enjoy watching the better athletes compete, I’ll watch and admire the amazing jockeys guide those powerful animals in a racing event like no other.

Hmmm…just thinking about the race has inspired me to see if I can find a movie like Dreamer or Secretariat to watch. I may go to Blake’s Southern Milling on Saturday for a Kentucky Hot Brown, although I’m not a huge fan of (but it’s like going to Philadelphia and eating an authentic Philly Cheesesteak sandwich, you know?).

Will I pick a winner this year? I’ll let you know!

Are you a mountain person or a beach person? Maybe you’re neither–or both.

April 21, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

This is the view from our cabin near Pigeon Forge this past weekend. We discovered cabin lodging about 25 years ago, and except for a few stays in a condo in our annual trip to the Smokies, we have stayed in nothing else.

Once upon a time, the Smokies were my “happy” place. The views, the colors in the fall, the things to do–it was a perfect fit for me. I enjoy the beach as long as I’m active. I’m not the type to enjoy sitting on the beach all day and reading a book. My idea of fun at the beach is walking on the beach at least twice a day, swimming, spending a little time on the sand (maybe an hour or two), going to locally owned shops, doing things like a dolphin cruise, and things like that.

When I was a teen, I enjoyed horseback riding at the Smokies. I enjoyed the ski lift, Ober Gatlinburg where I ice skated, going to Cade’s Cove, and exploring the mountains.

The years, however, have brought changes, some of which are good and some of which are not.

Pigeon Forge, once a sleepy little spot on the way to Gatlinburg from Exit 407, is now a commercialized chaos that brings bumper to bumper traffic, crowded restaurants, crowded stores and entertainment venues, and…well, crowds. To be honest, although I always loved the mountains when I growing hop and in early adulthood, I’ve never liked the town of Gatlinburg. Too commercialized even back in the day, with the fudge shops and places selling souvenirs and that sort of thing. These days, it’s more crowded than ever.

I get it. Places like that rely on the tourism industry. It’s the lifeblood of the community. They need those dollars, and I actually feel like I’m doing something good for someone when I spend money there.

The resort in which we stayed, Sherwood Forest, was secluded, not too far from Pigeon Forge, and very clean and comfortable. We grilled on the gas grill one night, enjoyed YouTube TV programming availability in the evenings, and walked the resort for exercise one morning instead of fighting the traffic to go into the park and find a hiking trail. The roads were sometimes steep but nothing too bad, although walking UP the hills was a cardio workout like no other!

Luckily, many visitors left Sunday morning, so the traffic became much better, the miniature golf courses and the Titanic exhibit not crowded at all, and no problem with dining out.

If you’ve never been, I do recommend going at least once. Go to Dollywood for the kids or the water park. Play miniature golf and do all those other things kids enjoy. Adults can take in shows, explore the artisan shops like Alewife Pottery (locals, did you know they’re from Martin?), and explore Cade’s Cove and other sites where you are likely to see a bear in the wild. Enjoy the beauty of the mountains. Relax in a cozy cabin..

As for me, I’m visiting the Smokies in my mind regularly these days as I write my third book in the Mandi series entitled Secrets of the Smokies. The Mandi series is for girls ages eight to 12, and I’m rewriting and revising (meaning improving, hopefully) the first two books The Ghosts of Graceland and Music City Mayhem. Notice the alliteration in all the titles? Cheesy, I know, but it just happened that way.

As for this trip, though, we made the mistake of scheduling it without checking to see if there was any sort of special event taking place. Or maybe it wasn’t on the schedule when we planned our trip. But Friday and Saturday were packed with people attending a Street Rod (Street Hot Rod?) convention. Those cars and people were everywhere.

So, when you plan your trip, research. Maybe go during the week instead of on a weekend. Even then, be prepared for the traffic. And don’t stay in the midst of all that chaos. Don’t stay in a hotel or a condo, unless they’re far away from the madness. Go to VRBO or find cabin rental companies. Find the cabin that is right for you and your companions. You’ll find luxury cabins, some in resorts with pools and even cabins with their own indoor pool, lodges, one-bedroom and two-bedroom cabins, and more. You’ll find some very high up with amazing views and others at lower elevations and surrounded by nature’s beauty.

Not everyone likes spending time in the mountains. I don’t love it as I once did, but my husband does. We’ve learned it’s more enjoyable to go with friends or family because spending time with them is part of the experience. It all comes down to your personal preferences and your situation in life. So for all you beach-lovers, continue to do what you like to do.

As for me, as long as I’m with friends or family, I can enjoy being anywhere…well, as long as you promise not to want to just sit around all the time and not do things.

An active life is a happy life. At least, it is for me.

April is Parkinson’s Awareness Month

April 15, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

I think most people know at least one person who has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. If nothing else, many know of actor Michael J. Fox’s public battle as he advocates for the community.

Approximately 1.1 million Americans have the condition which can affect movement, balance, speech, and cognition. Like any other disease or disorder, each person with it has a different experience, and not all are affected the same way.

Tremors are outward signs of Parkinson’s, but other symptoms are not as visible. Jan, who was diagnosed 14 years ago, told me others noticed something wrong with her before she was aware of anything going on. “They told me I was walking defensively,” she said. “And my handwriting kept getting smaller.”

Like Michael J. Fox, Jan is an advocate eager to share information and resources to help those battling the disease. “High impact exercise along with cognition activities are the only proven treatment to slow the progression,” she said. “When I exercise is the only time my body feels normal.”

Our local wellness center offers a program for Parkinson’s patients known as the Rock Steady Boxing program. Participants engage in cognitive activities as well as physical activities at stations set up and monitored by volunteers and staff employees. Stations include brain-teasers (word searches, etc.), dexterity moves for “forgotten” body parts like fingers, physical activities like punching a speed bag or heavy punching bag (during which time the coach calls out a number of a specific punching move the participants have learned), stretching activities, and more.

I find it interesting that exercise is a key component of slowing the disease because I know of so many people who never exercise. With Parkinson’s the cognitive component is essential, so simply walking for exercise or using weight equipment will not have the same effect. It is encouraging, to me, to know this autoimmune disorder can be slowed by something that does not involve a medication.

We hear it all the time. Eat a healthy diet. Exercise. Don’t smoke. Eliminate or limit alcohol. Keep your mind engaged and active.

So, why don’t more people follow that advice? Hmm…well, that’s a topic for another day.

Today, however, let’s give a nod of acknowledgement to those we know living with this disease, and let’s spread the word about Rock Steady Boxing.

I still believe in the goodness of others

April 8, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Call me naive. Call me Pollyanna. Accuse me of looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. But I believe most people, deep down, are good.

No doubt there are people in this world that are evil. But I believe, at least in my community and circle, those people are rare.

I have always had a tendency to like most people. The joke in our family is that I can probably count on one hand the number of people I dislike. But liking someone has nothing to do with their innate goodness. Even the people I dislike have some good hiding in there somewhere. Just because I’m put off by their personalities or other factors doesn’t mean they don’t have elements of goodness.

Notice the shirt I’m wearing in the photo. (My four-year-old granddaughter took this photo of me last falll–isn’t she talented???) I received the t-shirt when I registered to raise money for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital by completing a three-mile walk/run. For those of you who know me, three miles is a piece of cake. No biggie on my part, but several people donated to my cause to help fight childhood cancer.

Good, generous people. The workers at St. Jude are kind, caring people. The ones who interact with the children and witness suffering on a daily basis have a strength and compassion that enable them to do their jobs.

Good people.

The teachers who truly care about their students, no matter how challenging it is, are good people.

The stranger that stops to help a stranded driver, the people who help those who can’t help themselves. Good people.

I could go on in generalities, but I’ll share a specific experience that happened to me this week. I was to speak to a class at the local university, and my ride (remember, I can’t drive anymore–haven’t driven in over seven years, and I still HATE that situation) was almost two hours earlier than my scheduled time to speak. So I went into the university center to indulge in a Chick-Fil-A breakfast of the chicken minis.

The area had been renovated since I was last there, and I was using my identification cane. I don’t need to cane to see how to walk. I use the cane to let others know I am visually impaired. The cane explains, without my having to use words, why I move more slowly in certain situations, why it takes me longer to do things, why I pause a very long time before crossing a street so I can listen for oncoming vehicles.

So when I approached the counter, I went to the wrong side to place my order. The kind woman at the other end said something, and I went to that side. When the gentleman gave my large unsweetened iced tea (yes, call me a traitor to southern culture), he handed it to me very carefully and asked in a nice tone, “Do you have it?”

When I finished eating, I picked up my trash and headed to what I assumed were the trash bins. But when I got there, there was no opening on the top. I looked on the sides. No opening. I was about to turn around and look somewhere else when I young man came up behind me and in a cheerful tone said, “They’ve still got these covered.” He reached over and slid a dark object (which I figured out was a tray) away. There was the hole to dispense the trash.

He was not a worker. He was just a college student there to eat some breakfast.

I thanked him, and he made another nice comment. What a nice young man. No doubt he has a kind heart.

Unlike some, I have hope for the future. I have hope for our world. I have learned that kindness is reciprocated by kindness. Grouchy, unkind remarks are likely to be met with grouchy, unkind remarks. But kindness in tone and a pleasant smile can make all the difference.

I’ve had people tell me they could never teach high school students like I did for most of my career. But I loved high school students–at least, most of them. My first year of teaching was a bumpy ride, but I learned the balance of discipline and kindness (I hope), and my experiences created great memories I cherish to this day.

I know not everyone shares my attitude. I know of many people who focus on criticizing others and looking for their faults or flaws.

But I choose to look for the best. It’s a challenge with those four or five people I’ve known and disliked, but I try to give them some grace. It doesn’t mean I have to spend time with them. It just means I need to try to see things from their point of view.

Unless they’re evil. But those few are not.

We played a game Sunday afternoon with my son and part of his family, and the purpose of the game was to write things that fit a category. Jake drew a card that said, “Things that are evil.” My immediate response? Social media.

It’s not evil if used in the right way. But it’s evil if used in the wrong way. All the political stuff, all the unkind and hateful remarks, all the insults that people feel free to hurl hiding behind their phones. What’s the point? I know each person has freedom of speech but how sad is it that freedom of speech gives us justification for being unkind.

I guess this is enough of my opinion today. But I think part of the solution to the problems we have in this life is being good and kind to others. It’s hard to be mean to someone who is kind to you.

Attention, Milennials and GenZ’s aka Zoomers

March 30, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Today, a clerk in a store called me “sweetie.” Twice

I get it. To her, who might have been as old as 19 or 20, I am old. After all, my childhood photos are now fuzzy black and white images with no color photos of me until I’m nine years old. So, yes, I am that old. I’m old enough to have had only a black and white TV (controlled by an antenna) until I was 15 when Dad finally broke down and bought a Magnavox color TV. I’m old enough to remember life with party-line telephones that sat on tables or were attached to walls, life before microwaves, and life before…well, a lot of things that are normal today.

But when she called me “sweetie,” I immediately felt like a white-haired lady with tight curls using a walker, which is not me at all.

I’m sure she was trying to be kind, but I don’t think she realized it is an insult. I know some people my age who don’t like to be addressed as “ma’am,” but after years of being a teacher and principal, I have no problem with that. It is a sign of respect, and when I started teaching at the age of 30, I needed that respect from high school students. Without respect, a teacher can’t manage a class.

But when medical staff and others address me as “honey” or “sweetie,” it’s not respectful. It’s patronizing. It’s what we do with small children to soften our words. They’re terms of endearment we use with those we love. But they’re not appropriate terms for anyone else.

At least they’re not to me. My mom, who lived to be almost 94 loved it when medical staff and others used those terms. I have a feeling, though, she didn’t feel that way at my age. After all, she was still working part-time at Walmart, maintaining a home, sewing, cooking, and keeping busy with family and friends.

If you are someone who uses those terms, please re-think your choice. In our culture, people 65 and older are lumped together as “senior citizens,” but there is usually a huge difference between a 65-year-old and an 85-year-old.

What this young woman didn’t know was my friend and I had just left the Wellness Center where I had done 45- minutes of weight training, walking, and stretching. She also didn’t know I had already walked my dog a mile before going and that I was coming home to walk him another mile and a half.

She didn’t know I did a half-marathon (that was 13.1 miles jogging/running) at the age of 62 and did it again at 64 (all walking). She didn’t know I’m planning to do it again this December (walking) at the age of…well, never mind.

I know a lot of millennials and GenZ’s who could not, would not, and have no desire to do any of what I’ve done today, let alone the half-marathon accomplishments, so my advice to all is: please respect us but don’t patronize us. And now that I think about it, all of us older adults need to be careful about patronizing younger generations. Believe me, they are more capable than we are in areas of technology and other areas. They’re smarter in ways that didn’t even exist when we were younger.

Respect for each other. Maybe we all need to work on that.

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Author: Pam Harris, "blind" writer