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I still believe in the goodness of others

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

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.

Loneliness–it affects your health

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Once again, the photo doesn’t seem to match the title of my blog, but bear with me. I’ll explain.

A fitness/health expert with multiple degrees and certifications recently spoke to one of the civic groups of which I am a member, and this statement shocked me. “Loneliness,” she said, “is as harmful to your health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day.” She explained the research that backed this up, but I am still amazed.

I know some people prefer being alone, and likely they are perfectly happy spending most of their hours alone. But loneliness can affect anybody at any age in any circumstance.

The wife or husband whose spouse is not the companion they hoped for, whose distant demeanor or even abusive treatment creates a sense of isolation. The elderly shut-in who has no family to come visit and no friends who seem to care or whose friends have already passed away or in the same shut-in situation they are. The young single whose friends have all married and are living their lives with jobs and raising children.

When I was working and raising my family, there were times I dreamed of just a day to myself. There were times I suffered from what I called “people pollution” and wanted nothing more than time away from the crowds. I’m sure many have felt the same.

Loneliness, though, is as much a state of mind as it is a circumstance. We’ve heard the saying that someone can be lonely in a crowd, and that’s true. And being alone doesn’t always equal loneliness.

Those of you who read my blogs regularly know I’m always advocating for people to reach out to shut-ins. If that person is content with the situation, there is no need to push him or her to get out or make phone calls. Just give them a book to read or a remote they can operate, and they may be perfectly fine. Others, however, may need visits, outings, and phone calls to alleviate the loneliness they experience each day. That’s why I advocate and remind all of us to keep those people in mind and actually DO something to help them.

But let’s say you’re lonely. Maybe you’re divorced, widowed, never married, or in a bad marriage that you remain in for personal reasons. What do you do?

First, seek groups you can join. Sign up for fitness classes, art classes, and volunteer organizations. If you’re a person of faith but have neglected attending corporate worship services, find a church and attend long enough to get to know some of the people. Participate in some of the activities available instead of being simply a pew warmer. ” Obviously, I am referring to Christian faiths, but the same idea applies to any religion.

Be the instigator of social events. Invite people into your home, but if that doesn’t work for you, invite people to join you for lunch or outings. Invite someone to participate in one of your hobbies–playing golf, pickleball, tennis, etc.

In my town, our Friends of the Library group is active and involved, and I’ve gotten to know people outside of my normal circles. I’m active in our local retired teachers association. I’m in three other civic groups (invited to join) that, at first, were foreign to me, but as time went on, I began to feel like a part of the group as I strengthened acquaintances into friends and met new people.

Side note: (you know I always have a side note) For the visually impaired, meeting new people is especially challenging because we can’t see what you look like. It takes time for us to learn your voice and body type (tall, short, etc.). That means we may know you in a specific situation–as in a group meeting–but we have no idea who you are in a restaurant or some other public place. So, we do one of two things. We pretend we know who you are until you say something that clicks with us, or we do as I usually do and ask, “Who am I looking at?” If you see us out and about, it’s very helpful to say, “Hi, Pam, it’s Jean, Jones, how are you today?” I’ll eventually recognize you. Oh, another side note: If my husband is with me and sees someone he realizes I know, he says in a low voice, “Jean Jones is coming our way,” and I’ll say, “Hi, Jean!” as she gets near us.

Okay, back to my topic. I think one reason I found this statistic to be so impactful is because I talk with, by phone, several older women with vision loss who are living in loneliness. They’re sad, depressed, and discouraged, yet they’re trying so hard to be upbeat. One lives near Nashville. Another lives in Maryville. Another lives in Virginia. They are always thrilled to get a phone call. One of them told me when I called that she hadn’t talked to anyone in several days. She has mobility issues and is completely blind in one eye with glaucoma affecting her vision badly in the other. A nearby family takes her to church services each Sunday morning, but I know she would love it if her granddaughter would bring the great-grandchild over every now and then or if some of those church members would visit or include her in activities.

If you know someone like that, please consider reaching out. If you are one of the lonely and have the means to get out and about, do it! If you have the health and ability to drive, your choices are wide open. You just have to look for the opportunities.

The cure for loneliness is to get out of your comfort zone. You can’t expect to keep living the same way and for things to change. You have to find the courage to change them.

We have about 40 in our Silver Sneakers classes at the Wellness Center, ranging in ages from younger than I am into their eighties. The reason most attend? Yes, it’s for the exercise. But primarily it’s for the social interaction. “You can do hard things” a sign on the wall reminds us.

Yes, we can for as long as we can. But we have to have the mindset to do it.

Art for kids–to me, it’s important

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

When I was growing up, sketching and coloring were my favorite pastimes, other than reading. Sure, I played outdoors and did things like ride my bike, skate, jump rope, and other activities requiring physical exertion, but art was my favorite. I sketched people and animals, and colored them. I drew my own paper dolls, cut them out (tabs and all), and designed clothes that I drew, colored, and cut out. I made my own dollhouses using cardboard boxes, fabric scraps, and “windows” cut out from the Sears catalog showcasing curtains. If I read an illustrated book, I drew the pictures I saw in the book. Anything associated with being artsy or crafty was my go-to.

Every year I asked Santa for an art set, but for some reason he never brought me one. I wanted an easel, painting supplies, art paper, colored pastels, the works. I guess Santa didn’t want my mom to have the mess to clean up.

My love for sketching never waned. I expanded my love for art into macramé, cross-stitching, and sewing. I made clothes, Raggedy Ann dolls, purses, and more. Creating was and still is a priority.

So, when my granddaughters’ maternal grandmother and I took them to an art studio in their town with multiple activities for kids, I was enthralled. Yes, you had to pay for it. No, there wasn’t an art teacher, just free play time with a very energetic manager/owner who gave suggestions, provided materials, and moved constantly among the adults and children in the not very large space.

First, the girls picked out their own aprons to wear. Then they painted pictures seated in front of an art easel. I have the photos of them standing beside their finished work, but my subscription to this site won’t allow me to post more than one picture.

On one table, the girls could use the three primary colors–red, yellow, and blue if you’ve forgotten elementary school art–to mix colors in small wells in a tray. They learned that mixing blue and yellow produces green, mixing yellow and red produces orange, and mixing red and blue produces purple by using a large dropper to pull up the colored water before depositing into one of the wells. On one table sat plastic dinosaurs, and we used Play-Doh to make dinosaur footprints, “bury” the dinosaurs, and used tools to cut out shapes. Another activity was coloring a fish and gluing colorful bits of paper on it. Back to the easels we went, but this time the girls used the chalkboards on the backside to draw or write.

Watching them entertained for almost two hours with the various activities made me wish we had something like that in our town. A place for rainy days, a place for birthday parties, a place for…fun!

Yes, we can do those things at home. But there’s something special about doing things like that in a designated place with other children. Plus, no clean-up! No paint spills, no Play-Doh stuck to something, no bits of paper to sweep off the floor.

Sports reign supreme in my community, but not every child–as a matter of fact, not most children–have an inclination to sports. Some are drawn to music, dance, reading, writing, or art. As parents and grandparents, we can recognize their natural interests and abilities, but sometimes we drop the proverbial ball when we don’t encourage them to explore all options. If we push them into one activity and exclude the rest, the six-year-old boy who already demonstrates athletic ability may never discover he has a creative side. The six-year-old girl who is forced to take dance lessons may never discover she has a talent for golf or for making jewelry.

Visiting this art studio made the wheels in my mind start spinning. A music center for kids to try different instruments and take private lessons. An art studio similar to the one we visited. Maybe combine the two. Music on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Art on Wednesdays and Fridays. Saturday mornings and afternoons for parties.

Hours?10:00 to 1:00 and 3:00 to 5:00. Cost? I don’t know. That would depend on the overhead and cost of the space. I’m just sharing my idea. A financial expert would have to weigh in on the practical details.

But the next time you’re in Collierville and looking for something for the kids to do, go online and look for Color Me Collierville. It might be just the activity the children will love.

“Searching for Hope in the Silence”–a mother’s journey through loss

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Eleven. That’s the number of family and friends of mine who have lost a child. People in my own extended family. My friends. Not acquaintances, not co-workers. My friends. They, along with the fathers of their children, belong to a fraternity no parent wants to join.

That number doesn’t include those who have known the heartache of miscarriage.

That number does not include my friends who have lost a grandchild.

It does include the author of the book Searching for Hope in the Silence, Jenna Stoker Wright. In 1977, she and her husband lost their first child and only daughter to cancer. This book chronicles their short journey of learning about their daughter’s illness, their experiences at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis, and her emotional roller coaster of hope then grief and anger. She is honest about their experiences and honest about her emotions. I would think anyone who has lost a child can relate.

Part two of the book shares her relationship with her mother. A self-proclaimed “Daddy’s girl” (to which I can relate as I was very much a Daddy’s girl), her honesty shines once more in her account of the relationship she and her mother shared and the experiences of her mother’s life that impacted her. Like me, she loved her mother, but also like me, it was her father’s approval she craved and whose influence guided her. But also like me, she can look back now with fresh eyes and understand the positive examples and influence of her mom who gave up a beloved career in nursing to live in a small town and raise their only child.

The third part of the book describes the joy brought to them by their son, born about two years after their daughter. Having another child was not an easy decision since they feared the same fate would befall future children, but doctors reassured them it was highly unlikely. The result was a healthy baby boy who grew to be an intelligent, successful man. A line from this section of the book I am paraphrasing was that eventually the moments of happiness and joy outnumbered the moments of sorrow. The ache of loss, however, never went away and remains with her today.

One of my friends, whose granddaughter was killed in a tragic accident at a young age, once told me that you never get over grief. You just learn to live with it.

This book did make me cry, but it also made me smile. A person of a strong Christian faith, Jenna doesn’t sugarcoat her feelings during the most difficult days. She does, however, share how her faith is what sustained her then and what continues to sustain her now.

Would I recommend this book to someone else who has lost a child? Well, that depends on the person. If you are the kind of person who finds some amount of solace in talking with or reading about others who have experienced something similar to your own journey, I most definitely do. If you are the kind of person who chooses to block all memories of your ordeal, I don’t.

But I do recommend it to everyone else. Too many times we are upset about things that, in the long run, really don’t matter. Reading a book like this can help us be more grounded and put life into a better perspective. Reading a book like this gives a connection to the author and others like her so we are able to sympathize and help in more productive ways.

When her daughter was diagnosed with leukemia, the survival rate was only 10%. Today, the survival rate of childhood leukemia with five-year survival rates of over 90% and for infants with acute leukemia, more than 60%.

When Danny Thomas established St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, his mission was to eradicate childhood cancer. Thanks to their research and the research of other organizations, that mission is ongoing and showing promise of success. Someone once asked me if the Catholic Church operates St. Jude’s. The answer is “no.” Danny Thomas was a Catholic, and St. Jude is the patron saint of desperate situations and lost causes, symbolizing hope and perseverance in challenging times.

This book does the same.

It is available on Amazon as a paperback and an ebook. If you read it, I hope you appreciate it as much as I do.

My review of the Elvis movie “Epic”

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Meet Derek Culver, a Hernando, Mississippi resident who works as a barber in Germantown, Tennessee, and in his spare time does “gigs” as an Elvis Tribute Artist. He sings songs by other entertainers as well–so funny when he sings Willie nelson–but you can tell he is an Elvis fan, even though he was born several years after Elvis passed away.

He had seen the new release Epic, and told me he thought it was great, so great, in fact, he was taking his mother to see it the next day.

So, when my husband learned the movie was going to be at our local theater starting this past Thursday, we knew we had to see it. After all, I am a self-proclaimed Elvis expert who loved him as a singer and entertainer but never wanted to have him as a boyfriend–good grief, he was born 21 years before I was. I just wanted him to be my big brother or at least be in his circle. I think what my childish mind really wanted was to be in his movies as one of those kids he sang to.

Let’s forget about my reasons for liking Elvis while growing up because there is no clear answer, and let’s talk about my impression of the movie that we saw last night.

Baz Luhrmann directed the movie Elvis starring Austin Butler, and while researching, he learned that MGM has archival footage of Elvis in concert in Las Vegas (That’s the Way It Is) and touring the U.S. (Elvis on Tour). He created a movie using a combination of seen-before and never-seen-before footage that was remastered and put together in the typical Luhrmann style.

The result? A movie that is not a documentary, not a biopic, not a concert–well, maybe elements of all three.

Using recorded interviews with Elvis that spanned his first to final years in show business, the viewer hears Elvis telling his own story and sharing his thoughts about his life and career. Scenes and interviews of rehearsals, on-stage performances, home movies, and TV appearances are woven into a story that reveals the lesser-known Elvis, the Elvis who never turned down a fan asking for an autograph, the Elvis determined to give the ticket-buying audience the best show possible, the Elvis who was not too busy or too famous to pay attention to children.

I saw footage I had never seen before, such as Elvis seated on stage in Vegas and playing a guitar while singing various hits, and a couple of songs were new to me. The 100-minute film flew by, and yes, I will have to buy it someday for my personal collection.

I think people who dislike Elvis would not enjoy the movie, just like I wouldn’t be interested in a documentary or biopic about many entertainers, but for Elvis fans and fanatics, it’s a must-see. People who like Elvis okay would enjoy it. They might even come out of the theater as true fans.

Derek told me the movie made him sad because he wished he could have seen him in concert.

Well, I did. May 7, 1975, in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. And guess what? “My” concert is on YouTube in its entirety. They recorded the May 6 and May 7 performances to make an album, but the entire May 7 concert, audio only, can be listened to on YouTube. Just search for Elvis Concert May 7, 1975, in Murfreesboro, and you’ll know you have the correct concert when, after the opening song, he tells an audience member she has her child too close to the speakers. I remember when that happened. He had security relocate her and her little one.

And when you hear those screaming fans in the audience…no, I didn’t scream. I left that up to all the ladies with the teased, hair-sprayed hair that wouldn’t move in a hurricane.

I just sat there and enjoyed. I hope you do, too.

Who should read this book and who shouldn’t

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

The blurb on the book cover: It is 1895, and Aimee Winters has been forced to leave her home in Tennessee for the wilderness of the Arizona Territory. Homeless following her mother’s death, she travels from Memphis to live with her father, a man she had believed to be dead. While teaching at the small school, she hopes to learn the truth of her past, but primitive living conditions, the reality and fear of many dangers, and Levi Raines, the handsome rancher who seems determined to make her go back East, make her question her decision. As she adapts to doing things “the Arizona way,” she discovers not only the secrets of her past but also the truth of her present.

The background: In 2013, my husband and I took my mother to meet up with my niece and her family and my brother in their vacation home in Strawberry, a small community in the central eastern mountains of Arizona. Strawberry sits at an elevation of 5,800 feet above sea level and is prone to harsh winters. Wildlife like bear, mountain lions, and elk still roam the area. Arizona’s oldest standing schoolhouse sits less than a mile from their vacation home, and it is open to the public at specified times.

I observed my niece and envisioned a 19th Century Amy living in such a harsh but beautiful environment, and when I visited the school, the story was born. Aimee, like my Amy, is tall with long, golden brown curly hair and warm brown eyes. Everything else about Aimee, however, is a composite of various women, including me. There is always some element of truth in fiction writing. I researched the area using a book purchased at the Rim Country Museum in Payson. Because the publishing company I wrote for back then published Christian books, my storyline involved people who were Christians yet also very human. Aimee’s faith is faltering due to her life experiences, something most if not all Christians can relate to.

The original book was published in 2017, but a couple of years ago, I requested the rights back from the publisher, and I revised the book. I made (hopefully) some improvements to the story and polished (in my opinion) the sentence structure and grammar. Then I self-published it on Amazon as an ebook and paperback.

The paperback is in large print. The reason? Many fans of the book are older ladies. They relate to some of the chores that remind them of their growing up years on small farms, and they like the clean storyline that is innocent when compared to most secular books published today.

Kind of like Janette Oke books. You know, When Calls the Heart and themes like that. If you like her books, maybe you’d enjoy mine.

I like to think the story is timeless because it is set in the past. A contemporary book written in the year 2000 seems dated because of no cell phones, no advanced technology, and no social issues that make up modern life. A historical book, on the other hand, is timeless. You can’t go back and change history. Well, I guess in a book you can, but you know what I mean.

I have to admit I loved every moment of writing this book. The characters were and are very real to me. It is almost as though they were my ancestors. Those characters still live in my head.

I’ve considered writing a sequel, but I’m going to leave it alone. Let the reader’s imagination determine what happens to Aimee. Let the reader’s personal beliefs and experiences chart her destiny.

If books by people like Colleen Hoover are your favorites, don’t bother to read this book. If you love Danielle Steele, don’t read this. If Fifty Shades of Gray (I’ve never read it nor have I watched the movie and never plan to do so) is your idea of great reading, leave my book alone. It doesn’t contain what you’re looking for.

But if Hallmark movies and series bring you joy, and if you still like to read books by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and Lisa Wingate (oh, how I wish I could write like her–my favorite author), you might find Aimee to be a good read.

It is my hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Our interests and hobbies: nature or nurture?

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

A lazy, rainy morning after-breakfast, before getting dressed, before hair being brushed. The focus? Aqua Art. Paint perfect pictures using nothing more than water and a brush or finger. Allow to dry. The ink disappears, and you can do it all over again. Bluey and Bingo are perfect every time.

Remember what it was like to be focused on an activity? Remember how zoned-in you were to doing it right? Remember how much you enjoyed it?

Somehow, as we grow older, we sometimes allow the worries and problems of our lives to overshadow the simple joys of interests and hobbies. Sometimes we allow those interests and hobbies to occupy too much of our time, to the point of being obsessed or neglectful of those around us. I believe there should be a healthy balance. Having interests outside of work and family can contribute to better mental health as long as those activities aren’t taken too seriously.

I am convinced some of the interests we had as children remain with us throughout our lives. Those interests may manifest in different ways, but the fascination or joy is there.

When I observe my granddaughters, I notice their very different personalities, but I also notice their natural interests and tendencies. I will be very surprised if the oldest doesn’t become a musician or dancer or an actress in school plays–although her shyness may prevent that–and if the other doesn’t become an athlete of some sort. I can also visualize her being into activities like rock climbing, sky diving, and surfing because she is somewhat of a daredevil.

Time will tell.

When I reflect on my own childhood, the constants were (and are) art projects (especially sketching), drama (I was always in school plays), reading, dogs, horses, and, yes, Elvis. We won’t go into that. No, I didn’t want to grow up and marry him. I’m hoping to see the new movie Epic next week, so I’ll blog about the Elvis thing later.

As an adult, the art interest evolved into all kinds of arts and crafts activities. Macramé, cross-stitching, quilting, sewing, oil painting, acrylic painting, and of course, sketching. One of my favorite classes to teach at the local high school was theater arts, and one of my favorite sponsor activities was sponsoring the Drama Club and directing plays. I never “outgrew” that passion.

My husband, who grew up in a family of non-sports people, developed an interest in sports as young as first or second grade when he would actually watch parts of baseball games on television. Not because his dad was watching them or his older brother, because they didn’t watch them. It was an interest he had at a very early age. Football and basketball interests came along later, and he played adult league softball until he was 50. A basketball goal is still firmly fixed beside our driveway, and it still gets used occasionally. To this day, he watches countless sporting events on television, and to say he is a passionate University of Tennessee sports fan is an understatement. He was listening to John Ward (UT fans know that name!) as young as the age of 10. And the first Super Bowl? He watched it. He was eight or nine.

How often have we as parents tried to pique the interests of our children to what we like to do? I was the one steering our sons to sketching while my husband was the one playing baseball and basketball with them as well as coaching their Parks and Recreation teams. I was the one building cabins with Lincoln Logs while he was the one giving instruction on how to shoot a basketball and how to be a better batter.

Yet you know what they both did on their own? They both developed an interest in playing the guitar and piano. They were primarily self-taught, but they did, and do, exceptionally well. As middle-aged men, they still love to play. Not because we taught them or pushed them in that direction, but because they discovered that interest on their own.

In answer to my question in the title, I believe the majority of who we are and what we like to do is innate. Sure, environmental factors come into play. I don’t know if my sons would have had an interest in sketching if I had not encouraged it. I do believe they would have had an interest in sports because it’s the world we live in and also because they’re athletic, but the music thing? Not nurture. Nature.

My husband’s interest in sports? Nature.

My multiple interests? Nature.

I’m sure a psychologist would refute my opinion and give researched-base answers to my question, but I’m going to go along with the nature idea. To me, it’s obvious. No research needed.

Truthfully, it doesn’t matter whether it’s nature or nurture. What matters is the joy brought by pursuing our interests. So to the sports fans, fishermen, hunters, golfers, artists, seamstresses, cooks, musicians, writers, readers, and singers reading this–enjoy!

February is AMD and Low Vision Awareness Month

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Imagine a world in which you can no longer drive. You can’t read books, menus, receipts, instructions, or prescription bottles. You can’t see the microwave button. You can’t see your loved ones’ faces, and meeting new people is a challenge since you have no idea what they look like. You can’t see the beauty of autumn colors, nor can you watch television in the way you once did.

This is the life of the 1.49 million Americans diagnosed with late stage age-related macular degeneration. According to the CDC, approximately 20 million Americans have been diagnosed with the condition. Uncontrollable facts that make someone at risk include age (it can begin as early as age 40 but accelerates significantly at the age of 75), family history, and ethnicity. People of European descent are more likely to develop the disease than other ethnic groups.

The controllable risk factors include smoking (someone who smokes is twice as likely to develop AMD), alcoholic consumption (moderate to high consumption increases the risk), a diet high in saturated fats, and lack of exercise.

To understand AMD, it is crucial to understand the biology. The macula is an area of the retina which allows us to have central vision and see detail. The retina is brain tissue, and it contains rods (peripheral vision) and cones (central vision) that are the light receptors that send signals to the brain to allow us to see images.

Dry MD first appears as a sort of smudge in the macular area. This area can spread to the point of losing all central vision in one or both eyes. Research has discovered that taking AReds2 supplements can slow the progression of the disease in addition to eating a healthy diet consisting of leafy, dark green vegetables, colorful vegetables, lean proteins, and limiting or eliminating alcohol as well as quitting smoking.

Wet MD is a condition in which blood vessels form behind the retina and leak blood, causing permanent damage to that part of the retina. This condition is treated with injections of medicines like Avastin, Lucentis, Eyelet, and others to seal the blood vessel and prevent further spread and damage. Don’t confuse the leak with bloodshot eyes. You cannot see the leak from the outside. It can only be detected with specialized equipment.

Warning signs of a leak include seeing wavy or crooked lines, seeing stationary dark spots (not floaters), and blurry vision. You should see an optometrist or ophthalmologist immediately if you notice these changes in vision.

AMD seldom if ever results in total vision loss. Eighty-five to 90 percent of people considered legally blind have some light perception and vision. Most people misunderstand what legal blindness is. If you cannot see the large “E” on the Snellen chart without glasses but can do so while wearing them, you are not legally blind. Legal blindness cannot be corrected.

Although there are other causes of legal blindness like glaucoma, diabetic retinopathy, cornea problems, and other health conditions or accidents, AMD is the leading cause of blindness in adults 65 and older. Experts recommend an annual eye exam for everyone 65 and older to enable early detection of this disease.

The bad news is AMD is on the increase because of an aging population. The good news is there are aids and strategies for those who are losing their sight. I will share some of those strategies next week.

Sources used for this article: The American Macular Degeneration Foundation and the Foundation Fighting Blindness

Life in a Small(er) Town –what makes Martin special

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Aren’t these two just too cute for words? Yes, that’s the grandmother in me talking. But I’m right. Aren’t I?

Once again, you may be wondering what this photo has to do with my topic. Bear with me while I sort out my thoughts.

First, let me clarify. I do not hate the idea of living in a city or suburb of a city. There are positives and negatives to any place. Because traffic doesn’t bother me, city traffic is no big deal. Because I like having multiple activities from which to choose, that’s a plus to metropolitan life. No doubt the shopping is better, but it seems that most younger people do online shopping more than in-person shopping, and with malls disappearing…well, it’s just not the same.

But I’ve never lived in a large city. The largest town I lived in had a population of maybe 40,000. I think Martin has a population of about 11,000. So, really, I’m not qualified to extol the virtues of city living because I’ve never experienced it.

The positives of small town life are numerous. Safety, for one. True, we’ve had some tragedies over the years, but thankfully, they are infrequent. Less traffic is a plus, although plenty of locals get frustrated with the small amount of traffic we have at the by-pass intersection near McDonald’s. Another positive is the fact our circle of acquaintances and friends is much wider than it would be in a city. While some may love the anonymity of city life, I like seeing friends and acquaintances on a regular basis.

The obvious factor that makes Martin unique is the university. Unlike other small towns in our state, the university brings us cultural diversity and opportunities for recreation and entertainment. The Rec Center on campus is available to alumni and/or their spouses for the small fee of $35 a month. My husband goes there to play Pickleball, but the basketball courts, running track, weights, and other offerings make it a great option. And think of all the offerings in sports–football, basketball, baseball, softball, volleyball, and maybe some others. Oh, tennis, right? It’s a shame the pool is no longer open. As a college student and for many years while raising my boys, I used that pool a lot. Musical events, plays, special speakers…the list goes on.

Another factor is the schools. This applies to all of Weakley County, not just Martin. From an academic perspective, parents can feel good about sending their children to school in Martin, Sharon, Greenfield, Dresden, or Gleason. The district ranks high in the state. There is no need to send your child to a private school, unless there are other reasons to do so such as religious reasons or socialization issues for your child.

We have a local hospital, but if you prefer the Baptist Health system, those options are just a ten-minute drive away. You’d be farther away than that if you lived in a big city.

Retirees can find affordable housing, lower taxes and insurance, and adequate medical care. We are an hour from Jackson and an hour from Paducah if needed. By the way, Paducah’s Carson Center has all kinds of entertainment offerings (we saw Chicago there several years ago as well as The Beach Boys, Bill Engvall, Martina McBride, and more) and great shopping. Have I mentioned Hobby Lobby is my personal candy store???

We have great locally owned restaurants and shops. Blake’s has been featured in Southern Living, and people come from all over to eat at The Grind. Crave is another favorite (oh, their protein bowls, wraps, pizza…) as well as The Martin Coffeehouse, Higher Ground, Vantage Roasters, and maybe a place I haven’t thought of.

And have I mentioned there is a Chick Fil A on campus? Not one with a full menu (I love those minis made with small rolls and their yogurt parfait but have never tried to order them there).

I could go on and on. Multiple golf courses in the area. The Wellness Center, Dynamic, and other fitness venues. Kentucky Lake isn’t that far away. Reelfoot Lake is popular with duck hunters and fishermen.

Martin is not perfect. It has limited opportunities for college graduates of certain disciplines. Knowing a lot of people can be a mixed bag of good and bad because the sin of gossip and people knowing too much of your personal business is a reality. Yet those same people are there with the casseroles, the hugs, and the expressions of sympathy in times of trouble. They’re there to celebrate in times of joy.

I’m the kind of person who could have lived in cities of any size and thrived. I’m adaptable. But I’ve also thrived living here. Sometimes I’ve been blind to the opportunities, and that’s on me. Sometimes I’ve complained about living here, (well, more than sometimes), but that is because of some personal situations and relationships I will not share.

As I wrap this up, I’m smiling to myself because I know that when I share this on Facebook, most people will not read the blog. They’ll see the photo of my sweet granddaughters and make a comment about them, but thry won’t read this far to find out why I posted it. So, for those of you who are actually reading this, I will explain.

My paternal ancestors were in Weakley County as far back as 1840. My mother, who would be 98 this year if she were still alive, went to Martin High School. My dad was raised in the Dresden area. This town and this county represent my heritage. That may not be important to some, but it is to me.

I want my granddaughters to get to know this place. I want them to spend time with us and experience some of the things I’ve mentioned. When they grow up, I want them to look back with fondness on the times they spent with Gigi and Papa in a town very different from the city where they live. I know they have the advantages of multiple places to go like the zoo, a children’s museum, and other places, but I hope they will find the simple offerings we have here to be a fun diversion from the usual.

Maybe I’m romanticizing small town life a bit (think Hallmark movies, right?), but that’s okay. Each one of us has to find the path that is right for us. And while I didn’t necessarily choose my path as much as it just happened, I am where I need to be.