Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Two lies and a truth

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

Wow, I’ve been blogging for a while. I found this photo in my media library that was taken about 15 years ago, and I’ve used it in a previous blog. I’m using it today because of my topic.

At our life group (church) meeting Sunday, we played a “get to know you” activity that is a variation of the two truths and a lie game. Not everyone participated because they needed to think about it more. They couldn’t think of the lies.

Which made me feel guilty at first because I can think of MANY lies. I prefer to call them stories. After all, I do like to write fiction, right?

So, I’ll share my two lies and a truth with you, and you can guess before I reveal the answer. Which one of the following is a truth?

This photo was taken on the Bright Angel Trail at the Grand Canyon in 2011. Barry and I and his cousin and his cousin’s wife hiked the trail to the bottom of the canyon. Going down wasn’t too bad, but coming back up…you could feel the change in atmosphere, and I got short of breath and had to stop several times.
I once was on a plane from Nashville to Los Angeles. Shortly after takeoff, the pilot announced they’d received a sabotage threat on our plane and we’d be making an emergency landing at the Memphis airport. He told us not to be alarmed, but when we landed we were to go to the nearest emergency exit and then “run, don’t walk” upon reaching the ground.
You know I’m an Elvis fan. It started when I was six or seven when I saw my first Elvis movie. I begged Mom and Dad to stop at Graceland one time when we were going through Memphis, so we did. There was a man at the gate, and there were other people hanging around. But the man said Elvis would be coming out soon on his horse. Sure enough, he came down and spoke to all of us. He didn’t stay long, but I remember him noticing me and giving me a special smile. Well, in my ten-year-old brain it was.

What do you think? Which ones is the truth?

If you guessed #2, you guessed correctly. I blogged about that incident years ago, so I won’t elaborate now. It happened in December of 1971 when hijackings and plane bombings were making the news.

As for #1, it is partially true. The photo was taken on the Bright Angel Trail, but we only went down about a mile, if that far. And yes, going back up did take your breath at times.

#3 happened to someone else, not me. A co-worker of my son met Elvis when she was nine or ten. Not only did she meet him that day, he put her on the horse with him and rode her around the property. That is, if I remember the story correctly.

When all this was revealed in our group, one woman commented that many lies have partial truths. I think that’s how we sometimes justify lying. We lie by our silence when we allow someone to assume something untrue, or we lie by revealing just part of the truth, or we lie based upon a similar experience or the experience of someone else.

They’re still lies. And I think all of us have been guilty of it at times. Sometimes we lie when we are complimenting someone, and I’m a strong believer in saying kind things to people, but to lie to them? “You’re beautiful in that dress,” we might say when what we really mean is “That dress looks beautiful on you.” And we should be careful about asking questions we don’t want to know the truth about. “Do I look fat in this?” the woman might ask her husband, and boy, is he in a bad spot. If she does look fat and he tells her so, she’s likely to get angry or be hurt. But he wants to be kind, so he is likely to say, “Not a bit.” My thought is not to put him in that position. Do you agree, or do you think little white lies that are spoken out of kindness are okay?

Probably. After all, it’s not “bearing false witness” against someone. It’s not lying with malicious intent. It’s not lying to deceive. Those lies motivated by kindness are nothing like lies in which we are promoting ourselves, hurting someone else, and misrepresenting the truth.

I may be wrong in my theology, and anyone who disagrees with me is welcome to do so. Perhaps the biggest lies we tell are the ones we tell ourselves. The lie that it was okay to cheat on our taxes. The lie that I’m justified in flipping off the driver who pulled out in front of me (although I’ve never flipped anyone off, and I definitely don’t drive anymore…). The lie that a cheating spouse is justified because the other spouse doesn’t make him/her happy. Oh, the comment about adultery that gets to me is when people say, “God wants me to be happy.” They must not read the Bible very carefully. If they don’t believe in the Bible, they can say what they want, but someone professing to be a believer and saying that? Please supply scripture and verse that justifies adultery.

Not being judgmental. Just don’t bring God into it.

If we do wrong, own it. Don’t lie about it.

As I’ve said before, I have a blog so I can share my opinions, and I’m not trying to sound preachy. I’m just sharing my convictions.

And I’m also sharing I don’t always live up to them. I’m trying, but I sometimes fall into the very things I condemn such as lying, gossip, and other “sins of the tongue.” We’ve been studying that in our ladies’ class.

I think the key is to be self-aware. We have a tendency to justify our actions, and those are probably the biggest lies of all.

Quiet residential street with colorful autumn trees and historic homes

How I would change my town

October 5, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

My hometown has many positives, but like all towns, it’s not perfect. Although I was born here (well, actually in a town about ten miles away because my town didn’t have a hospital then), I did not grow up here. I came to attend the college, and I’ve been here ever since.

But I never intended for it to be my forever home. I won’t go into the reasons why, but it has taken me years to accept that this is to be the place I will likely live until I leave this earth.

That’s okay. I don’t want to move anymore. Sure, I’d love to live closer to my grandchildren, but I’m grateful neither one of my son’s families live so far away we can’t see them fairly often. I have some friends whose children and grandchildren live in other countries or far-way states like Alaska.

I love the friendships I have here, and I’m fairly certain (99.9%) I could never develop those friendships in a new place. I love the comfort of the familiar, and although there have been times I longed for anonymity in an area that is prone to gossip because everybody knows almost everybody,. I love the locally owned restaurants and shops.

What, then, would make my town perfect or at least perfect to me?

Sidewalks. I want sidewalks everywhere. I want to be able to walk on my road without having to step off onto the grass when a car going way faster than the 35 mph posted blows past me. I want sidewalks that would allow me to walk along the highway to the Dollar General Store located a little over a mile from my house. Well, maybe not even that far. I want a walk-over bridge on the bypass near the college so I can cross to go the shopping area and restaurants located there. Another one at the intersection by McDonald’s so I could walk to those areas, including Walmart. If you’re new to my blog, the reason for this is because I can no longer drive, but I’m in great shape and can walk for miles at a time.

Speaking of Walmart…as helpful as it is, I wish we had a Tate’s right here in town or another rE.W. James like the one in Dresden or Union City. You know, a store with an actual butcher on site.

I wish we had a store like J.C. Penney’s or Goody’s like Union City had for so long. Department stores that are more affordable than Dillard’s but still carrying good products. I miss the Macy’s in Jackson–I know we can’t support one here, but I’ve always preferred Macy’s to Dillard’s. I am not a fan of Beale’s or any other outlet type store where you have to wade through a lot of junk to find anything good.

I know the university is the lifeblood of our community, but I hear others talking about how the housing is all about the college. Seniors don’t have options like the condo complex behind E.W. James in Union City. Of course, that doesn’t have to be just for seniors. It works for all ages, although probably not so much for families with young children. I am content living in my home of over 34 years, but someday we may tire of maintaining the pool and large yard and would want to downsize.

Pipe dreams, I know. Too much like those Hallmark movies or series set in small towns where they have picturesque communities and shops that could only be supported by the higher income residents, and community festivals that are upscale and classy instead of a bunch of food trucks and some very bad flea market stalls.

The photo is not of my town. It is AI generated and could represent almost any place.

Except for the sidewalks. I really, really, really want sidewalks. And the walk-over bridges. Sigh.

Finding peace in the storms

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

Somehow my generation grew up believing in happily ever after. Blame it on Disney, fairy tales, or the middle class prosperity that became the norm while we were growing up. Blame it on our childhoods that were simple and carefree. Blame it on our blissful ignorance of what was going on around us.

Notice how I used the word “we.” I should have said “I” because using “we” assumes everyone around me experienced the same things. It assumes everyone had loving parents, plenty to eat, clothes to wear, and mostly good experiences.

I now know that wasn’t the case.

As I got older, I became aware of the hardships surrounding me and endured a few hardships of my own. I no longer believed in a “happily ever after” life. Instead, I focused on the “but blessed” life.

I think that term applies to most of us, and I use it quite a bit. I think about my busy but blessed life while raising children. I think of the bereaved but blessed life when grieving the loss of beloved family and friends. And, being me, I think of the boring but blessed life I am now living.

No, I don’t love retirement. I’m odd. But neither do I want to be in the workplace surrounded by younger generations whose interests are not mine and whose views on life are very different.

I’m surrounded by people living the bereaved but blessed life. They have plenty to eat, nice homes, nice clothes, and material goods. But they’re grieving the loss of a child or grandchild or spouse. Some are grieving more than one. “You never get over grief,” my friend who lost a grandchild told me. “You just learn to live with it.”

My prayer list for those battling serious illnesses like cancer seems to grow each day. That, I know, is due to the age I am now. My closest friends and I are in the winter season of life. Attending funerals, visiting hospitals, and sending “thinking of you” cards are part of our normal activities.

When I pray for those going through hard times, I have one constant for each. I pray for healing and emotional and physical strength to endure whatever they are going through, sure, but I also pray for them to have peace in their souls.

What does that mean exactly? Am I praying for them to accept? Am I praying for them to have hope? Am I praying for them to have faith?

Maybe. But I think it is more of a feeling of calm.

Yesterday, our preacher had an excellent sermon about worry, and the take-away is that we worry about what we can’t control more than anything else. What good does it do? Does it change anything if we can’t control it? Of course not. His point was to do what we can about things we can control, then pray and trust God. God’s answer may not be the one we want, but we can find peace by trusting that He knows better than we do.

Since vision loss, the Serenity Prayer has become almost a daily prayer for me, sometimes multiple times a day. I’ve probably blogged about it before. I know I wrote about it in my latest book. In case you’ve forgotten, my version goes like this: God, grant me the serenity to accept what I can’t change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Acceptance, Courage. Wisdom.

Finding peace is not easy. And finding peace doesn’t mean every day will be one of calm. It does require conscious effort. It requires a willingness to let go of whatever is troubling you, an effort to stop trying to control everything in your life.

At least, that is how it has worked for me.

The busyness of my days of work and raising children didn’t leave time for focusing on peace. Instead, the activities and needs of others filled every waking minute, and I can remember dreaming about our family of four escaping to a cabin in the mountains and just…well, being. I had a need for peaceful moments.

The busyness is gone, and now depression or, boredom, and/or worry fight to rob me of that peace. How do I overcome those feelings and find the calm I crave? Physical activity, like going for a long walk or going to the wellness center, is a must. It releases those feel-good hormones. I pray. Sometimes I pray while I’m walking my dog. I look for constructive things to do. I call shut-ins or send cards. I do whatever I can to take the focus off whatever is bothering me and put the focus on someone or something else.

It works for me. The point? It’s a conscious effort. It doesn’t just happen.

This photo is of an acrylic painting I did about five years ago. Ruth, the artist neighbor who has painting classes in the studio behind her house, helped me by painting the small sailboat you see in the image. I was “channeling my inner Picasso” with what I considered an abstract painting of something, but what she saw was the night sky above a calm ocean. Since any attempt at painting a boat would have looked like a blob if I had done it, she painted it for me.

I love the final effect. It’s a scene of tranquility and rest.

May each of you find your own moments of peace as you go through whatever storms life is giving you. May we all learn to let go of worry and find joy in the good things that are a part of our lives. And may our communities, our country, and our world come to know peace.

How I lowered my LDL…naturally

September 22, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

“Genetics are the loaded gun,” I once heard a doctor say. “Lifestyle pulls the trigger.”

I apologize for repeating this reference. I say it a lot. It’s even in my newest book in the healthy living chapter. I wonder how many people who read that book will skip that chapter?

I know the doctor’s statement doesn’t apply to every situation. It is a general principle, not an unquestionable fact. I believe, however, it has merit.

My friends and I have reached the age of different conversations. Sure, we talk about normal things like trips, what to watch on which streaming service, sports (well, I don’t, but plenty of people around me do), children and grandchildren, and so on.

But we also talk about colonoscopies, an acquaintance’s diagnosis of cancer or other serious illness, blood pressure, and all the things our parents used to talk about. We talk about doctors and how insurance controls medical care. We have reached “a certain age.”

My genetics lean toward high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and type 2 diabetes. Both my parents had all three conditions by the time they were the age I am now. Yet I have none.

Why? I’m not sure, but what follows is why I believe this to be the case.

Years ago, when I had my annual bloodwork (we got a discount. on our insurance if we did annual bloodwork), my LDL was over the desired 100. My total cholesterol was fine, but that LDL concerned me. I had watched my parents add more and more medicines to their repertoire with each passing year while they did nothing to change their eating habits. I watched their lack of physical activity–Dad’s due a severe back condition, Mom’s due to a lack of belief in exercise as being important.

I watched Mom, who died just over five years ago at the age of 93 (she would be 99 today if she had lived), hit the prescription doughnut hole each September because her medicines were so expensive. I watched her go through two procedures to open blockages in her arteries. I watched her eat desserts after every meal (well, Dad, too) while taking metformin. I watched as her blood pressure continued to get out of control (partly due to her anxiety (she had an undiagnosed anxiety disorder) until she was taking FIVE blood pressure medications.

I did not want that to be my story. So, when my LDL hit 127 a few years ago and my doctor wanted to prescribe cholesterol medicine, I asked him to give me time to control it by dietary changes. He agreed, and I cut out red meat completely. I ate pork very seldom and eliminated cookies and cakes since they normally contain butter or shortening. I switched to using extra virgin olive oil. I avoided fried foods. I researched foods that would increased my HDL, the healthy cholesterol, since my HDL was only in the thirties.

Three months later, I went back for the follow-up bloodwork, and my doctor was amazed. My LDL was 104. “I wish all my patients would do what you did,” he said. “But most of them just want a prescription.”

For the past two years, my LDL has been well below 100. My HDL increased to 65.

Exercise is and was important. Those who know me are only too aware of how I’ve always been a fitness walker. But I have done that my entire adult life. The difference in my exercise routine from that time? I am doing weight training in addition to the walking. I go to the wellness center at least twice a week and work out using the machines. I am actually building muscle at my age. Occasionally I participate in a Silver Sneakers class, and trust me, those are real workouts. They’re not “sitting in a chair” workouts. LT has us working out every muscle in our bodies, and to say that squats while holding weights works your muscles is an understatement.

The type 2 diabetes? I don’t eat sweets usually. I’m lucky because I don’t crave them. My usual dessert is greek yogurt with berries and a drizzle of honey topped with some walnuts. Oh, by the way, foods that increase your good cholesterol include avocados and healthy nuts like walnuts and almonds.

My blood pressure is perfect, so no medicine is needed there.

I’m not sharing this to make it seem like I have all the answers. I definitely don’t, and yes, I have my junk food weaknesses. A bag of tortilla chips can go very quickly if I don’t watch it. And yes, I like a daily Diet Coke. Not a large one, but I do crave it at times. I’m proud of myself on the days I don’t drink one. And I do love Chick-Fil-A minis, but luckily the local restaurant is on the college campus and not easily accessible, so that helps remove the temptation. I always get a yogurt parfait to go along with it and tell myself the yogurt is counteracting the harm done by the fried chicken pieces and roll.

I know if I live long enough, a health condition I cannot control naturally will affect me. Cancer, an autoimmune condition, or any number of things can strike. But until then, I want to feel as good as I can, avoid spending my hard-earned money on medicine, and have the best quality of life possible.

The photo of my mom, her mom, and her siblings is a reminder of how they all were on multiple medications. They had heart issues. But they lived well into their eighties, and as I said earlier, Mom was almost 94. So, yes, the medications, surgeries, and interventions helped them live longer lives. And yes, they prioritized eating what they wanted because eating was one of their greatest joys in life.

Not me. I eat to live, not live to eat. So I guess my lifestyle changes were not as hard for me as it would be for some. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good meal. But what I consider to be a good meal (vegetables, salads foods not fried) is not the norm.

My brother valued food as one of life’s greatest pleasures. Unfortunately, what he valued were all the wrong foods. He overate and over drank. He died at the age of 74.

Genetics are the loaded gun. Lifestyle pulls the trigger.

Creating memories

September 19, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Christmas shopping season is just around the corner, and while it takes time to shop for just the right present, it is much easier to shop than to create. It is also much easier to shop than to sacrifice personal time to do an activity that someone else enjoys.

I think of arts and crafts as gifts of time. True, the maker enjoys the activity, but the maker who is creating a gift is doing so with the recipient in mind. There is a difference in creating something for yourself as opposed to creating something for someone else.

Sentimental, I know. But the beautifully crocheted large table covering made by my maternal grandmother, whom I never knew very well since she passed away when I was four, is a tangible reminder of the fact she once lived and that I am a part of her, whether good or bad. Sometimes I look at it and wonder what was going through her mind as she worked on the complicated piece. Was she talking with my grandfather as they sat around in the evenings in the days before television? Was she listening to the radio? Was she simply focusing on her handiwork with no deep thoughts, no introspection, no worries? I don’t know. But I wonder.

The quilt in the photo was made by the 14-yera-old me when I was taking Home Ec. In Mrs. Blankenship’s sewing class, we had to make a dress, but outside of class we had to do a project of our own. Mom came up with the idea of me making a quilt top. The pattern is a Dutch Doll pattern, and the fabric used in every square were leftovers of clothing she had made for me. Actually, a couple of them are clothes I made for myself since she began to teach me to sew at a very young age. Nine, I think. So I spent hours cutting out the pieces and sewing them on to a square (by hand using a buttonhole stitch), and many years later, Mom quilted the top using a zigzag stitch on her sewing machine.

No, I wasn’t sacrificing my time for someone else. I was sacrificing it for a grade. But I like to think at least one of my family members will find it meaningful in some way when they are older.

I realize my sewing explanation means nothing to people who don’t sew, but I described it for those who do.

The funny thing is, I remember every fabric. I remember if it was a dress, a jumper, a robe, or a romper. I remember wearing those clothes, and as I look at the fabrics now, I am only too aware of how loud the fashions were of the time. Maybe I should have been honored with “worst dressed junior high student?”

But I have kept other things. Drawings my sons did. I even have their very bad pottery pieces they made in high school art class. I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. Mom kept some of my old drawings, and I haven’t thrown them away. I have framed cross-stitch pieces made by Barry’s mom, knowing the love she put into every stitch.

I know not everyone is sentimental about these things. But I’ll bet my cousin’s wife is sentimental about the beautiful small table and chairs he made from a tree in their yard before he passed away. I’m willing to bet she wouldn’t take any amount of money for it, and let me tell you, it is beautiful. I still have Barbie doll clothes made by my aunt that were presents for all of us girl nieces at Christmas. She was an expert seamstress, and oh, her baked goods…homemade doughnuts and cheesecakes were her specialties.

No doubt some things purchased for us are memorable as well, like the necklace I have with our granddaughters’ names on it. No doubt a teen-ager would appreciate a vehicle gifted to him (who wouldn’t?), and a sixth-grade boy obsessed with basketball would be thrilled with his own basketball goal beside the driveway.

But as I get older, I value experiences with family and friends more than I value what someone purchases. I value those drawings given to me by my granddaughters more than I would a work of art by a master painter.

Crafting may be on its way out, but I think there will always be a few souls continuing to express their creative side. And while they are doing it partially because they love to do the activity, they are also doing it for the one they are giving the item to. They are hoping the recipient will appreciate it if not love it. They are hoping the gift will be a reminder of them.

Not everyone has the ability nor the interest to pursue arts and crafts, but everyone has the ability to sacrifice their time in some way for someone else. Either way, a lasting memory is created.

We’re Never too Old to…

September 14, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

As much as I don’t like to admit it, I am in the group of adults considered to be living in the winter season of life. If you’re unfamiliar with that term, I’ll explain. Someone (I don’t remember who and am too lazy to research it) wrote a book describing the seasons of life. Spring is the time of birth and growth, summer is the time for building career and family, autumn is the time for reaping the benefits of your work (the harvest), and the winter season is a time of rest.

Rest. Many in my age group take that literally. They stop doing everything. And I wonder how they can live like that. I understand we’re all different, but I can’t relate.

I don’t mean they stop living. They continue to do their thing, but they stop growing. They become set in their ways. Their world becomes smaller with each passing day.

I don’t want to be like that until my health causes me to be that way. Life in the winter season doesn’t have to be a “well, I’m done” period of time. It can be so much richer.

I’m a thinker, which is a mixed blessing. Life would be easier if I didn’t think so much. So, because I have that tendency, I have come up with a list of things I believe we never get to old to do.

1. We’re never too old to be kind. When Mom was in the hospital the last few months of her life, the nurses loved her because she was always kind to them. Her tone was sweet even when she was exhausted from throwing up or so weak she could barely move. When they came to do something for her, she always thanked them. In our life group meeting yesterday, Mike said he made a point to greet people at the drive-through and ask how their day was going even if they were not particularly friendly to him. “You never know what they’re going through,” he said.

2. We’re never too old to learn something new. It doesn’t have to be big like taking a class or developing a new skill, although those pursuits would work well. But just using the Duo Lingo app on the phone to “learn” a new language or learn a new card game can help our aging brains stay sharper. Yes, our brains are aging as is every other part of us. Don’t hide from the truth, Baby Boomers and older. Accept it.

3. We’re never too old to say “I’m sorry.” Repairing a broken relationship can do wonders for our mental state, but I think most of us, if we’re honest, can look back on things we did in which we wronged someone or made the wrong decision. Being honest with ourselves and apologizing to others may be the key to giving us the peace we need. And, by the way, it’s okay to apologize to your children. I know our parents never apologized to us for anything, but in this era of open honesty, it may not be a bad idea. It depends, of course, on how receptive our children might be to bringing up old hurts.

4. We’re never too old to get out of our comfort zones. I flew quite a bit in the 1970s and early 1980s but allowed a bad experience to instill fear into me, a fear that was made worse by my mother, whose many fears (a mental illness she didn’t recognize–extreme anxiety) affected her life as well as mine, and I didn’t fly again until a few years ago. After that first flight, I felt so stupid for allowing that fear to have kept me from traveling by air. How much richer my life would have been, and how much richer it is today because I got out of my comfort zone. I’m not saying I love going through security and the cramped seating on planes, but the reward is less travel time and more time spent at the destination. Getting out of your comfort zone may be something more simple like applying for a part-time job, inviting people to your home for a dinner, even changing doctors. I’m not advocating everyone take up air travel. It’s definitely a personal choice!

5. We’re never too old to get stronger. Notice I said “never too old.” No doubt there are health conditions that can impact someone’s ability to build muscle, but I am proof that strength training works. I have been using the weights at the wellness center for over a year, and I continue to increase the weights on the machines as I get stronger. I’d suggest you get someone to advise you and train you how to use the machines so as to avoid injury, but I am stronger than I’ve been in years.

The photo is of me with friends and classmates at one of our reunions. It’s funny how getting together with my high school friends drops the years. That 16-year-old still hiding deep within me comes to the surface, and for a short period of time, we are transported back to those days of fun and angst and drama and hope. We’ve lived the lives we were looking ahead to, and I doubt any of us ended up with the life we envisioned in our high school days.

The experiences we’ve had have shaped us into the people we are, but being this age doesn’t mean we stop growing. No, not in the sense of those in the spring season but maybe more like the winter weather when gray days give way to snowy days which give way to brilliant sunshine and amazingly blue skies. Even winter, when the land is dormant, has change.

I could go on with other ideas like never being too old to learn to be unselfish, never being too old to do good for others, never being too old to be a good listener, never being too old to stop complaining about everything, and more. But I’ll stop with the hope I’ve made my point.

We’re never too old to–you fill in the rest.

Acceptance doesn’t mean giving up

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

This photo has absolutely nothing to do with my post, but they’re just too cute, aren’t they? Yes, I’m being a proud Gigi. We grandparents are allowed to brag on our grandchildren, so I’m taking liberties!

But maybe this photo is applicable to my topic after all. Bear with me until the end of the blog, and I will explain.

With the wisdom I’ve gained over the years, I have come to understand that our greatest barrier to coping and healing when we go through hard times is our unwillingness or inability to accept the situation. We want to fix it or control it or deny it. Instead of acknowledging it and figuring out a way to move forward, we have a tendency to focus on what we can do to get rid of the adversity.

Here’s the deal. Many times we focus on changing others or changing our state when what we should be focusing on is changing our attitude. We must change ourselves.

I am not going to discuss bad relationships or living situations of which I have no knowledge or experience. But possibly the points I make about other situations can apply to those. As always, I do not claim to be an expert on any of this, and anyone with serious problems should contact a professional.

Years ago, a friend of mine was in an accident, and she ended up paralyzed. When I visited her in the rehab facility, she told me, “I’m going to walk out of this place.” She had a fighting spirit and was convinced she would be healed.

An admirable attitude in our culture, but she was not healed. She has spent the past 30 plus years in a wheelchair.

She eventually accepted her situation and learned to do many thing’s for herself. She was able to drive using hand controls. She cooked and did some normal household things as well as she could. A widow who now lives alone, she is self-sufficient for the most part and handles each day with strength because she accepts her situation. It’s not easy, but it is her reality.

In my own journey of becoming disabled due to vision loss, I accepted my condition from the beginning. My loved ones were not so accepting. They were seeking cures or clinical trials or devices to make my vision come back or at least be better. I even had a stranger pray for me one time. I was at a fast food restaurant with a friend, and when I was paying for my meal, I explained to the woman I was sorry for being slow to do everything because I was visually impaired. Maybe I said legally blind, I don’t know. Either term is correct. While my friend and I were eating, the woman went by our table several times to clean other tables, and I sensed she kept looking our way. When we got up to leave, she stopped me and asked if she could pray for me. Embarrassed but not wanting to steal her joy, I agreed, and she held my hand and prayed for my healing.

I don’t have the heart to go back there and tell her that not only did my condition not get better but it has also gotten progressively worse.

I accept that. I just deal with it. My retina specialist told meI may get to the point I can only see light and dark, but I don’t live in fear of that. It may never happen, and if it does, it may be years from now, and I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it. I do, however, continue to do what I can while I can and appreciate each day because today is all any of us have.

I have completed my book Living Fully with Vision Loss and am anticipating a release date within a few weeks. This book deals more with the lifestyle changes and emotional and mental states of those new to vision loss and their support system. It is for everyone, though, as I continue to educate others and advocate for the visually impaired community.

Some of the chapter titles are “First Steps,” “The Age of Technology,” “A Life without Limitations,” and “Our Support System.” There are 12 chapters, approximately 20,000 words (which is very short), and a resource guide. It will be available as an ebook and a large-print paperback. I am working on having it published as an audiobook as well.

In the first chapter, I make the point acceptance is the most important first step. I know of too many who are newly diagnosed who are seeing multiple doctors and looking for clinical trials. That’s okay, but the truth is even if they find a clinical trial for which they qualify, it may take years to see any benefit if at all. I admit I’ve applied for a couple of clinical trials but have been rejected, probably because my condition is too advanced.

By the way, if you’re new to my blog and confused about how I can write a blog and books as a legally blind person, be sure to buy the book when it is released or go to my Journey to Sight YouTube channel where I have videos demonstrating how it’s done.

Back to my topic. Acceptance is the first step in healing. Not the healing we think of. Accepting a physical disability or a broken relationship or the loss of a loved one doesn’t mean you’ve given up. It just means you are facing it and you’re going to handle it. You’re going to persevere despite it. It won’t be easy. It won’t be fun. But if you keep at it, it will happen.

When I pray for others going through health crises, I pray for their comfort and healing but also peace and acceptance. I pray they have a calm spirit while they endure the treatments or the knowledge they have a terminal illness. I pray for their strength to get through each day.

When I was praying for a new treatment for my vision loss or at least for my vision not to get worse, I cried when I prayed. How desperately I wanted to see normally again. How desperately I wanted my independence back (translated: the ability to drive). How badly I wanted to read to my granddaughters, to see my loved ones’ faces, to recognize people in the community when I was out and about.

It wasn’t until I changed my prayer to ask for help in accepting my situation and learning about how to cope with it that my mental state improved. And you know what? That happened. I have learned so much, and I am continuing to learn. I was paralyzed in my own way in a state of limbo until I changed my attitude. These days, I have an attitude of gratitude because I’m grateful for all the good things in my life.

As for the two girls in the photo, they accept me as I am. They know Gigi can’t read to them, so they’re okay with my Meta glasses reading to them, although they have to get very close to the frames to hear it. Sometimes when we’re playing, one of them will say, “Gigi, are your eyes working?” which is their way of asking if I can see what is going on. And I can see well enough to play with them, cook for them, “watch” Disney with them, and play with them.

They accept me for who I am. I have to do the same.

It’s Elvis Week in Memphis…the legend continues

August 13, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

First, let’s get this straight. I have been an Elvis fan since I was six or seven, but I liked the movie version of Elvis who paid attention to children. I liked his music, especially the ballads. I liked his rags-to-riches story. I related to the poverty in which he grew up since my parents did the same.

But I never wanted him to be my boyfriend or grow up to marry him. After all, he was 21 years older than I was. I did want to be in his circle of friends because of his fame and good looks (although he wasn’t always so handsome, especially in his later years), and as I got older and learned more about the man instead of the image, I wanted to set him straight.

Elvis was a talented entertainer but also troubled. The same man who started a rock and roll revolution and lived a promiscuous life loved gospel music and reading the Bible. Graceland has one of his Bibles on display, the dog-eared copy with pages full of his notes in the margins.

Elvis’s life was basically divided in halves. The first half was poverty, family, and pursuing his dream of becoming a singer. The second half was fame and fortune, family and friends, and a roller coaster ride of highs (hit records, a huge fan base, recognition, the birth of his daughter) and lows (the death of his mother, the cheesy movies, the career controlled by Col. Parker, the betrayal by two of his inner circle, his divorce).

With as much as I’ve read about Elvis and the number of documentaries and interviews I’ve seen have given me, I believe, a balanced view of him as a person. Unlike some fans, I recognize his shortcomings just as I recognize (hopefully) my own most of the time. I also recognize his good qualities.

I often say Elvis was a paradox. I also believe he is the epitome of arrested development. He never really grew up in the way most people do. And maybe that’s common for many who are thrust from poverty into riches, but for this blog, Elvis is the subject.

Elvis craved adulation and attention, but he was insecure. The first time his Sun Studio record was played on the radio, he didn’t sit in his living room with his parents to hear it aired. Instead, he went to a local movie theater. The song was requested to be played over and over until Dewey Phillips called and told his parents he wanted to interview him on WHBQ. Vernon and Gladys found him in the theater. When Dewey was talking to Elvis, Elvis thought he was going to be interviewed after they talked. He had no idea their conversation WAS the on-air interview.

He never wore denim when he made the money to buy his own clothes. Having grown up in Tupelo, Mississippi, and having been forced to wear overalls and go barefoot to school, he viewed denim as the clothing for the poor and never wore it again.

His father was one of those men who never held a job. Neither parent was well-educated, and the young Elvis witnessed their struggles. He loved his mother deeply and wanted to provide a better life for her. I think even the young Elvis sensed his father’s lack of a work ethic.

He kept an inner circle, who came to be known as the Memphis Mafia, because he was uncomfortable with friendships outside of his experience. No doubt he felt out of place among many Hollywood types, and his classmates from Humes High School (especially Red West and George Klein), some Army buddies, and his cousins were his constant companions, so much so that his wife Priscilla soon tired of so many of them hanging around Graceland.

He was generous, overly so. His father and Priscilla despaired because of his tendency to give away jewelry, cars, and other gifts to family, friends, and even strangers. He had a soft spot for the poor.

He appreciated his fans and never turned one away who wanted an autograph. He knew his fans were responsible for his success.

He was a daredevil. He loved roller coasters other thrill rides as well as fast cars and motorcycles, and in the 1960s he developed a passion for horses. His personal favorite was a golden palomino quarter horse named Rising Sun. And because Elvis wanted to ride, he insisted everybody in his circle learn to ride. He bought horses for all of them, whether they wanted one or not. And no one in his circle ever told him “no.”

He was like that pushy kid in elementary school who always wanted to do what he wanted to do and pushed everybody else to do the same.

I often wonder why so many stayed with him. He had a temper and in ways was selfish, but he also had a charm and a way of listening to someone that made them feel seen and heard. He had an aura that drew them in, and I’m sure they didn’t mind having small roles in his movies and getting to interact with Hollywood stars just because they were the satellites revolving around their sun, Elvis.

Jerry Schilling’s book Me and a Guy Named Elvis is a great read, and Jerry was one of the few who broke away from Elvis’s orbit to pursue his own interests. George Klein’s book Elivs, My Best Man is another good read because George, too, had his own life.

Whatever your opinion is of Elvis, you have to admit the Elvis Presley Enterprises machine has done an amazing job of keeping the legend in the public eye since opening Graceland to the public in 1982. Elvis died 49 years ago this Sunday, and about 600,000 visitors go to Graceland each year. His music is still being played, and with movies like Elvis starring Austin Butler (2023) have created a new generation of fans.

The photo of my granddaughter holding a book entitled Baby Elvis (purchased by my daughter-in-law or her mom as a joke since my son is or was an Elvis fan) was taken over four years ago. She is five now and in kindergarten.

The legend lives on. For how much longer, I don’t know. It may be there are teens and twenty-somethings who have never heard of him, which I don’t doubt since I’ve known teens who thought New Mexico was another country instead of a state, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is likely the most well-known entertainer in the world. I know Taylor Swift and more current artists have captured their own numbers of fans, but I wonder…will they be as well known almost fifty years after their death?

A writer’s thoughts

August 9, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

There are millions of us. People who have so many ideas swimming in their heads they don’t have enough time to get them written. People who feel the need to express themselves in words. People who will never be successful writers.

But we write anyway. And in this day of self-publishing for free on KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing), some really bad books are out there. So are some really good ones. Most, I suspect, fall somewhere in the middle.

My early fiction writing attempts were published by a traditional small press. I never paid anything to have them published, and I made a little money off the sales. Very little. But I wrote anyway, and I look back now and realize a few things about myself. First, my topics are antiquated. I write stories like those written by Janette Oke(Aimee) or the writers of children’s mysteries published in the 1950s and 1960s (The Ghosts of Graceland, Music City Mayhem). The romance themes were sweet and innocent, in a way (Smoky Mountain Brides).

In other words, most people under 80 or older than 10 would not want to read them.

All of those books are out of print now because the publishing company has sold and the time to make them available has expired. So, I rewrote Aimee, changed a few things, and self-published. I believe the newer edition is better. I took the novella in Smoky Mountain Brides and polished it before sell-publishing as Can’t Help Falling in Love.

I know I don’t have what it takes to be like John Grisham or my favorite author Lisa Wingate. I can’t write a Pulitzer Prize winner like Geraldine Brooks did with her book March. And I definitely can’t write books like those by Kristin Hannah, Kristi Harmel, Ann Patchett, and others.

My best selling book so far is the one pictured. Don’t get me wrong, royalties are very small. I think my last royalty check was just under $15. But that’s okay because the purpose of the book is to help people.

I’m more of a journalistic style writer. Like with this blog, I write informally, as though I’m having a conversation (one-sided) with the reader. I kept the book short, knowing most people won’t ffiish a long book. I don’t think my own children have read this book even though it was published two years ago. They’re busy, I know, but neither do they read this blog. People read what interests them, and the number of people with an interest in vision loss or a the information is small.

That’s okay. That knowledge is not stopping me from writing a sequel to it. I’m almost finished with the first draft of what I am currently calling Journey to Sight but will be renaming it before publication.

I’m going to continue to write fiction because I’ve been writing stories since I was seven years old. I still remember the story I wrote and illustrated that my teacher allowed me to read to my class. Suzy the Elephant was about a circus elephant. Wonder where I got that idea? Yes, I loved all things Disney. When I was nine, I wrote the riveting story “The Tale of the Bloody Bluff Brothers” set in Arizona where I lived at the time.

Writing to me was what some of you experienced with Little League and other sports. It was what I loved.

All I ever wanted to do was be a writer, but just like those of you who had dreams of becoming a professional athlete, that never materialized. I focused on reality and discovered interests in other areas.

I’m still going to write fiction. I’ve promised a young girl to finish Secrets of the Smokies, the third in the Mandi mystery series. I’m working on a sequel to Aimee. This one is set in 1911 at the Yuma Territorial Prison in Yuma, Arizona. By the way, the prison had closed at that point (1909), and when the local high school burned, classes met at the prison from 1910 until 1914. Their mascot to this day? The Criminals. And I’m likely going to rewrite my novella Surf Song that was part of now out-of-print Coastal Promises before next summer. It’s a beach read set in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I’ve even started on a book for women that can be used in a class setting with a working title of The Woman God Sees.

Writers, you understand how I feel. You love books. You love to write. No matter how unpopular the end product is, you have to express yourself.

What’s wrong with public education

July 25, 2026July 26, 2026 by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Don’t get me wrong. There are many things good about public education, but as the beginning of the school year approaches, I can’t help but think about what’s wrong with it. Specifically at the high school level. I know that is a sentence fragment, grammar police, but I intended it to be that way.

Public education has come a long way since this one-room schoolhouse was built in 1885 in Strawberry, Arizona. It’s the oldest standing schoolhouse in the state, built when Arizona was still a territory.

I’ve been out of the education field since 2018, but I talk to people who are in the classroom and hear their stories of what is happening today.Keep in mind my statements are my opinions based upon personal experiences and observations, not research.

First, I’ll address teachers. You have a difficult job, and I know many of you once loved your career but are discouraged by the changes that have taken place. It’s a shame you are not treated like the professionals you are. Your profession is the only one I can think of that is governed by people who do not work in your profession. Legislators and school board members with no experience (or limited experience) in education are telling you what to do and how to do it. Evaluation models you are expected to follow are based on research, and as a former principal who observed multiple teachers, I have to agree that the TEAM approach was effective. The best teachers were the ones doing those things already. It was reflected in the learning and test scores. It was reflected in how the students responded in class. And you know what I saw? The teachers who had the highest test scores were liked and respected by their students. Keep that in mind. Be firm but kind. Encourage. Don’t take your bad days out on your students. Be professional by arriving when you’re supposed to arrive and doing what you’re supposed to do. You know what makes life harder for teachers? When fellow teachers are not abiding by the policies.

Next, administrators like principals and supervisors. Many of you, if not all of you, are in your positions because you were tired of the classroom and wanted to earn a higher salary. Don’t forget what it was like to be in the classroom. If done correctly, it is a demanding, exhausting job. My seven years as principal were stressful in ways, but it was a nice break from being in the classroom and being observed by the powers-that-be who seemed to be looking for what I was doing wrong instead of what I was doing correctly. Treat your teachers with respect and professionalism. To the teachers at DMS, I apologize if I ever treated you badly. It was not my intent. I know of one school district in which a team of supervisors is observing teachers DURING THEIR PLANNING TIME. All caps are intentional. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of. If you have someone looking over your shoulder constantly, how do you feel? Do you want to stay in that job? Give your teachers the support they need. If they’re not doing their jobs, address it and let them go if necessary. I know that sounds harsh, but education is about the students, not a teacher’s feelings. Some enter the profession who are not suited for it. But treat even those teachers with professional courtesy.

Third, school board members. Listen to the teachers. Listen to the administrators. I know you want success for the students, and because everyone went to school while they were growing up, they think they’re experts in education. Really? I’ve been going to doctors all my life but would never presume to tell a doctor or nurse how to do their job. Do corporations have non-business people determining policy? Would I presume to be on a board for an airline just because I fly? Yet we have farmers, business people, some former educators, and other occupations sitting on our school boards and making policies without listening to the experts: the teachers.

Fourth, parents: What I am hearing about parents in general these days just blows my mind. Apparently you feel your child should not be held accountable for anything. Not for grades. Not for behavior. Not for attendance. When I heard the state had changed the grading scale to below 60 being failing instead of below 70, I couldn’t believe it. Look, I know there are some tough teachers who seem to be harsh (shame on them) or expect too much (if they’re doing their jobs right, they will expect more). But your disrespect of the teachers and the school in general is teaching your child to be disrespectful of authority, to make excuses for failure instead of working to overcome it, and preparing them for a future of irresponsibility in life. I know not all parents are this way, but there are enough of you out there that, once again, your attitudes are lowering the quality of education for all students, not just your child.

As I said, there are many good things about public education despite the negatives I’ve listed. You’ve stuck with me this long. Please consider these suggestions:

Teachers, be kind and patient with your students. Harsh treatment, especially in elementary grades, can damage them psychologically for many years if not for life. Students have varying abilities to learn, and your job is to teach them in ways that help each one. Remember that teaching is not a “one-size-fits-all” approach. I didn’t learn that for many years, and once I learned that and figured out ways to address it, students actually learned what I was trying to teach them.

Legislators, administrators, school board members: be willing to listen. And as for the test scores situation…well, that will be another blog. What you legislators have succeeded in doing is to teach students how to take a test, not given them the skills they need to succeed. My generation was not tested like students are today. And yet many of us became successful in life. The only standardized test I took in high school was the ACT. Yet I went on to be successful at the university level. How did one of my classmates become a Harvard professor? How did many become doctors, teachers, business people? (Are you picking up on my sarcasm?) By the way, I think Tennessee should go back to career/college/dual path system instead of the Tennessee Diploma Project. That, too, will be the topic of a later blog.

Parents, teaching your child to be responsible and accountable is not easy. You don’t want to see your child hurt or upset. I get that. But if you lay the foundation of expectations and get the help your child needs when struggling, you will prepare them for a more successful life. In high school, I was used to making mostly A’s, but I struggled with Algebra 2. Mom found a retired teacher in our church who tutored me two afternoons a week, and my grades improved. That prepared me for college algebra. She didn’t go to the principal and complain. She didn’t send the teacher hateful notes or ask the teacher to accept my homework late (which I had not done because I had no idea how to do it). That was in the 1970s. In today’s educational system, free extra help is available at school. And if your child gets in trouble at school and receives a detention, make them serve it. Stop making excuses for them.

If you’ve made it this far, you may be disagreeing with my opinions, and that’s fine. Because this is my blog, I’m expressing my own. We can agree to disagree.

As a product of public education in a rural setting, I am not knowledgeable about inner city schools or schools in suburbs in which the standard of living is much higher. I attended schools that were an assortment of races, socio-economic groups, and ability levels. I taught in the same type of schools.

So, to say I’m passionate about public education is an understatement. I believe in it. A strong public education system makes a strong community. We need public education, but some things need to be fixed.

Search

Author: Pam Harris, "blind" writer