Tag: writing

“Family is everything.”

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

A decorative sign saying “Family Is Everything” that was gifted to me several years ago hangs in our bedroom.

I understand the meaning behind it. For most of us, family is what gives our lives purpose. They fill our lives with joy and friendship, but sometimes family can be the source of our greatest sorrows. Sometimes a family member is someone who is “better loved from a distance.”

The devout and faithful of religions honoring God souls argue that God (or Jesus, the Holy Trinity, etc.) is everything. Some would argue that self is everything. Others would say that friends and social connections are everything.

When my oldest son was being recruited to play college football, the coach told us his order of priority was “faith family, football.” He knew our culture and knew what to say. Unfortunately, his actions did not reflect that philosophy, so lesson learned: don’t believe what people say when they’re trying to get something from you. They’ll use whatever persuasive tactics they can.

What have I learned about family over the years? First, they are not perfect. I write this a lot–I’m not perfect, so neither are they. Next, some are closer than others. This is due to common interests, personality, and proximity. Third, the more distant. the family connection, the more distant the relationship. For example, second cousins are not as close as first cousins. A great-aunt or uncle is usually not as close.

I’ve also learned that siblings are not always someone we can count on. They’re not always someone we hang out with or share our thoughts.

When I was growing up, I adored my only sibling, a brother nine years older than I was. That adoration was made even stronger when he became a father when I was only 12, and I adored my niece. We didn’t live in the same town, but we did get to see each other for weekend visits.

When he and his family moved to California, we only got to see them once a year, and because of Dad’s work schedule, that visit was usually just over a week long. So we filled in with letters and phone calls, but of course, that wasn’t the same as spending time with them in person. There were times over the years that we did spend more time with each other (talking about my niece), but where she and I landed permanently and our individual circumstances sometimes caused us to go years between visits.

That is one of my biggest regrets.

My brother changed over the years, and although I always loved him, spending time with him was not as enjoyable as it had once been. He and I differed in too many ways, including our moral codes, attitudes about life, and faith. My youthful adoration was shattered, but my love for him remained.

Each family has its own dynamic. A friend once joked “We put the ‘fun” in dysfunctional,” and probably most of us could say that.

I’m going to be honest. (My husband would say, “Oh, really?” as a joke meaning why would I be dishonest?) I always wanted siblings. I wanted sisters and brothers close to my age. I loved books like “The Five Little Peppers” because there were five children. I loved “The Sound of Music” partly because of the large number of children. One of my friends when I was growing up was one of five–and I envied that.

Idealistic? Sure. But that was what I wanted.

This photo is of my mom ( seated center” and her brother and two sisters. They were very, very close. Growing up on a farm, they were each other’s playmates, co-workers, and confidants. Yes, they argued at times. But they were there for each other through thick and thin. They loved spending time together.

I am thinking about family today because of a get-together last night with my husband’s aunt and her extended family. She, the great-grandmother, with all three of her children and their spouses and some of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Plus a couple of friends of her son and us. It was great being with all of them and sharing in the celebration of July 4 by doing the very American activities of grilling hamburgers and hot dogs, and having plenty of sides and desserts (including homemade ice creamK) along with newer American activities like playing corn hole and watching France play (and defeat) Paraguay in the World Cup competition.

Since vision loss, I have wished even more for a sister or two or three. Only a sister (or daughter, which I don’t have) could be the pal I want to go shopping, take me places, listen to me when I want to discuss something relevant to women, and that sort of thing. At the same time, I know there are many women with sisters and/or daughters who don’t have the kind of relationship that would allow them to do those things.

So, maybe “Family is everything” is better said “A family that is the kind it should be is invaluable.” Not perfect. Not ideal. But people you can count on and always, despite your differences, love.

By the way, I have had my screenreader read this blog to me twice, and I’ve tried to catch mistakes, but my vision is getting worse all the time, and it’s a struggle to do this today, so I’m going to be lazy and let the mistakes remain. No doubt you can figure out what I’m attempting to say!

What makes someone “weird?”

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

The definition of “weird” involves suggesting the supernatural or uncanny. We use it that way, but we often use that word when it would be more accurate to say “odd” or “different.”

But, how do you determine what is odd?

The fact is we often see people who are different from us as being odd. Cultural norms in another country strike us as odd. Greeting someone with a bow instead of a handshake? Eating fried grasshoppers? Believing in aliens or reincarnation?

How odd. Unless you are one of those people.

“Different” often has negative connotations, but each one of us is unique. We have our mannerisms, our fears, our quirks, our likes and dislikes, and our value system. We want people to respect our differences, but sometimes we are not respectful of theirs.

I like to think I respect other people’s differences, but sometimes I’m guilty of not understanding. I’m not judging. I just don’t get it.

This morning I was kidding my husband about something and told him he was weird. But, when thinking about what we were talking about, I am more likely the weird one because my stance on that topic is less common. His is more normal. (Can you tell I’m apologizing to him?)

I admit to being different. My taste in food and music, my “never meet a stranger” attitude, and my desire to express my thoughts as I’m doing now are not the norm.

You may be wondering what the specifics are of my “not the norm” components. Well, here are just a few.

I’ve always preferred vegetables and fruit, even as a child, and hamburgers and pizza are at the bottom of my foods list. I don’t love chocolate.

I don’t mind eating in restaurants by myself. I’ve done it many times over the years.

When I could drive, I never minded driving on the interstate, even the horrendous, semi-dominated I-40 that crosses our state and puts fear into the hearts of many. In the past, I drove cross-country without a thought.

I don’t mind doing things alone. If there’s a movie I would like to see and no one would be interested in going with me, I’m the type that would go on mown.

I like change. I worked in banking for 8 years then switched to teaching. I switched to a different school after working in one high school for 18 years–a decision my husband thought was a mistake– and took a principal’s job without having served as an assistant principal to “learn the ropes.” I stepped down from that after seven years because of my aging mom needing my help more frequently and got a job in another school district before returning to my home county.

Most teachers I know stayed with the same school their entire careers.

Other quirks include hating unloading the dishwasher, wanting a perfectly made bed even if we are the only ones to see it, and a hatred for fried catfish. Let me change that. I hate catfish no matter how it’s cooked. On the other hand, I love broccoli.

My point? I need to respect other’s differences just as I want them to respect mine. We don’t have to agree. But we can accept. No, not accept everything. We shouldn’t accept what is wrong or participate in it, but accept differing viewpoints about life. We can seek to find common ground instead of focusing on how we’re different.

Those sweet girls in the photo are sisters, but their personalities are not similar at all, other than their hugs are extra special and sweet. One is shy and imaginative. The other is outgoing and a daredevil. Is either one odd? Of course not. They’re just different. Each one is unique.

This post is, primarily, to remind me to practice what I preach. While I may not understand why one person is an introvert or a loner and not understand why someone handles grief differently than I do, I don’t need to think of that person as odd.

My husband often says “We’re all different.” He’s right.

Riding the Roller Coaster of Life

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer
People enjoying a roller coaster ride with hands raised and excited expressions
I know I just blogged on Sunday, but writing seems to be my go-to when I’m bored or restless if I have no other option. I have about an hour to kill before I go to the wellness center and to the assisted living facility where I do a program once a month, so I’m thinking about everything from grandchildren to the weather to technology.

Speaking of grandchildren…our five-year-old granddaughter did a FaceTime call to us last night, and it was so cute. She showed us some toys, demonstrated a dance from “Lilo and Stitch” (although we couldn’t see the actual dance because she was holding the phone), and reasoned with her younger sister. So, so adorable!

Okay, off the proud Gigi share and back to the topic

I think most of us experience highs and lows in life with plateaus in between, but I must confess retirement has brought more lows than highs for me.

Before you judge me, please understand I don’t want to go back to work full-time. I don’t want to be locked into a schedule, but the only reason I don’t want to be working on a schedule is because I want the flexibility to go see those grandchildren or have them here when their parents need us. If not for those girls, I would be looking for a part-time job.

But who wants to hire a (number) -old with vision loss? Nobody.

Okay, so maybe we can travel more. Hmmm…do I really want us to spend our savings that might be needed for future healthcare? Spend some, sure. Spend it all or most of it? No. We may never need it, but we want to be prepared. Besides,

Move to be closer to the grandchildren? Not an option. With my inability to drive, a new place in a new city would be tough to learn. Plus, those girls are going to get older and not need or want to be around their grandparents so much someday, so maybe we need to stay where our friends are.

It is funny how, in my situation, the smallest things can bring me the greatest joy. Like when my family comes to visit–all of them–or we go visit them at their homes/towns. I admit to being jealous of people whose families live in the same town, but I’m glad you have that perk. Maybe it’s not the perk I imagine. Maybe you wish your children and grandchildren lived at least 30 minutes away? Ha, ha!

Last week, a friend asked if I wanted to go along with her and her daughter to Sam’s in Jackson, about an hour away. I accepted immediately. We went to Walmart where her daughter did much of her grocery shopping and to Sam’s, where I bought some salmon, and came home. That was it. But we talked. We laughed. And it was the highlight of my week.

Who would have thought going to Walmart and Sam’s would be a highlight? Obviously, it wasn’t the destination. It was the company.

My husband injured his foot recently while playing pickleball, and the PA put him in an air cast for activities and prescribed a steroid pack. He has had incredible energy, and after walking the dog two miles yesterday morning and playing pickleball for 2 1/2 hours, he came home still full of energy. I think he’s going to miss that medicine.

I told him he knows now how I feel most of the time. I have the blessing (and also the curse) of having boundless energy because, as of right now, I’m in excellent health. I confess I did take a nap Sunday afternoon, something I rarely do, so maybe age is catching up with me, at least a little.

As I often write in my blogs, I’m weird. I’m not like most of you who love and thrive in retirement. I do not find this season of life to be the best season.

But, you know what? If the worst problem I have is perpetual boredom, I am very fortunate. If the worst low I have is frustration because I can’t go and do what I want to do when I want to do it, I’m fortunate. And if I don’t love this season of life, I can be grateful I’m still here and appreciate the perks it offers.

Like no alarm clocks, although I now wake up early anyway. Like no stress from a job. Like not being so busy I can’t enjoy something as simple as reading a book.

I have a feeling I’m not alone in thinking of life as a roller coaster. As someone who was never a thrill-seeker, I didn’t like roller coasters. Not because of the height or being scared, but because of that dropping sensation. I don’t like it. Thankfully, the emotional roller coaster ride doesn’t create that. It may bring tears at times (for which I’m ashamed), and it may create a state of being “blah,” but that’s okay. It could be worse.

To the few of you who read this, thank you. If no one reads it, that’s okay. It helped me sort my thoughts, and if someone else can relate or benefit from it, it’s worth my sharing. If you know me at all, you know I’m introspective and think about what makes us all tick. I don’t know why I’m like that, but it is who I am.

We have no control over the future, and if we are wise, we will just appreciate and make the most of each day. That’s what I’m going to do. I hope you can do the same.

Do you feel blah on “gray days?”

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

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

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

I didn’t think so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accepting your limitations doesn’t mean giving up

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’ve all given up on themselves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

Why these ladies make me smile

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

It all started with a program I did about Elvis.

I have volunteered to speak to civic groups about various topics, mainly because I love to share information and because I am always looking for something to do to fill the hours, so I reached out to the assisted living facility last year to see if I could do a program of some sort for the residents. The activities director and I discussed it and decided on a program about Elvis since I am somewhat of an Elvis expert.

The room was packed, men and women. We played an Elvis trivia game (multiple choice), I answered questions, and some talked about their reaction to him when he became famous. I told them my personal stories (my friendship with Elvis’s nurse, how I met George Klein, my interview with Gordon Stoker of The Jordanaires–if you’re an Elvis fan you know whom I’m talking about, and if you’re not, you can look them up).

That event led to regular monthly programs. I talked about vision loss. I did a presentation about Pat Summitt. I’ve shared about books. The number has dwindled to about ten each time, but that’s okay.

Last week, I took some of my sewing projects, and it sparked a conversation about their sewing experiences. I took my old Barbie dolls (yes, I still have them) so they could see some of the clothes my Aunt Hilde had made. We played a trivia game (two teams, multiple choice for the answers) about general topics.

A side note: Because I can no longer drive, my friend Donna drove me to most of these meetings. I’ve now re-scheduled the meetings to a different day when my husband is available to drive me. Donna, I appreciate you so much!

Back to the point of this blog. My original intent was to talk about things I love and to fill my time with something to do. But now it is much more than that. I’m enjoying listening to their personal stories and laughing with them when somebody says something funny. I’m reminded of my own aging process and how I hope if I live to be in my eighties or nineties that someone will care enough about me, wherever I may live, to spend some time with me and brighten my day.

Next month, I’m going to create a playlist on YouTube of songs from their era, and I asked them which artists they liked. “Anything from the 1950s,” one woman said. “Elvis,” said another. “How about The Beach Boys?” I asked. “Their music makes me want to get up and move, so we can all dance!” They laughed at that.

When I visit them on Feb. 10, I will have a playlist ready to mirror on the TV in the meeting room. One of the ladies, who is legally blind due to macular degeneration, will not be able to see it, but she’ll enjoy the music. One of the ladies is often confused and not able to communicate that well, but music is the universal communicator. Several have some hearing loss, so I’ll crank up the volume. That may bring us a bigger crowd.

Inside each one of those women is a young woman who once loved to skate, to ride a bike, to go out with friends, to spend time with family. I know because a younger woman lives inside of me along with the maturity and wisdom gained through the years. And there’s nothing that takes me back to that young woman like music from “my era.”

So, we’ll enjoy music. And maybe, just maybe, we will get up and dance.

The wisdom gained with age

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

When I was growing up, I had three dreams that lasted well into adulthood: I wanted a dog (my parents wouldn’t allow me to have one), I wanted to own a ranch someday, and I wanted to be a writer.

Pretty simple, right? I didn’t have dreams of being a famous model or actress (well, I did for a short time like a lot of girls in middle school), and no doubt my dream of owning a ranch someday was totally unrealistic due to the fact my family did not own land nor did we own horses, but that didn’t change the fact that I loved the idea of it. No wonder I loved Janet Dailey’s Calder series.

In adulthood, our family has had two dogs, sweet Sable and our current dog Draco (the shelter had already given him that name and when we got him at seven months old, that’s what he responded to), and my joke is that with him I got a horse-dog because of his size. He’ll be five next month. All 70 pounds of him.

I never got the ranch, nor did I even spend time at a dude ranch at any point, something I regret. I don’t want to go now because I don’t want to chance getting hurt on a horse, but I loved the opportunities I had of riding horses belonging to friends or paying to ride at public stables.

As for the writing…well, you see how that is playing out. Not a best-selling author and not huge sales, but with the technology we have today, I am able to continue that passion. I love to write, whether fiction or non-fiction. And while I would love to make some money at it, I’m okay with just doing it because it’s something I love to do.

It’s like you sports people, those of you who grew up playing sports. Maybe you aspired to be good enough to get a scholarship to college or even to go straight from high school to a professional baseball team, but the high number of would-be professional athletes is tiny compared to the number of college athletes. Some who aspire to greatness achieve it. Others indulge in their love of sports by coaching or being passionate fans.

We all pursue what interests us.

There aren’t many perks to being “a certain age,” but one perk, in my opinion, is being able to look back on my life and realize that it’s okay to have achieved just one of those three childhood dreams–the dog thing. Have I mentioned I love dogs? And our oldest son is a dog magnet. They sense his attitude toward them.

But that ranch dream…unless I could have been wealthy enough to pay lots of hired hands, it would have been a grueling seven-days-a-week obligation. No rips to the beach. No trips anywhere. The vet bills, the reality of mucking out stalls and cleaning hooves and the ongoing expense…I’m glad that dream was never realized.

I know I’ll never be a best-selling author for many reasons, but if just a few people read what I write and enjoy it, I’m good with that. I always have story ideas spinning in my mind, so maybe one day I’ll be able to achieve some real success in that endeavor. To me, there are no negatives about writing. I love the whole process, including re-writing and editing and meeting deadlines for the publisher.

Maybe you can relate. Maybe your childhood dreams dissipated like the early morning fog as the sun comes up, and maybe you’ve found other ways to pursue your interests. And for the few who achieved their childhood dreams, I have this question: Was it what you had hoped it would be?

You may be wondering about the horse in the picture. This is the photo for my Facebook profile, and it was taken in July of 2024 when another couple and my husband and I did a quick trip to Lexington, Kentucky, where we toured a racehorse breeding farm. Claiborne Farms in Paris, Kentucky. The guided tour was about an hour long, and it was fascinating.

I fed a peppermint to two of the horses. This particular horse is worth–brace yourself–$85 million. That’s right, $85 million. The other horse? A mere $11 million. I doubt the quarter horses I planned to have on my dream ranch would have been worth anything close to that. And no matter how you feel about horse racing, you have to admit those animals are beautiful.

Wisdom gained as we age is a blessing. It helps us to appreciate what we have instead of what we don’t. It helps us to accept compromise and change. And it gives the ability to have peace and acceptance of whatever our situation may be, not to mention the joy we have in enjoying the adjusted versions of our goals and dreams.

A Book Club Can Be Much More than Just about Books

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

I do this a lot. I post a photo that has nothing to do with my topic of the day. I just thought this was pretty, a view of Sedona, Arizona, taken by my son when they were there this past summer. Sedona is beautiful. I highly recommend a visit.

Yesterday my small book club, consisting of six people, made our annual trip to Patti’s at Grand Rivers, Kentucky. Locals know the restaurant and area even if they’ve never been there. My lunch? Grilled chicken spinach salad with hot bacon dressing and one-half of Boatsinker’s Pie. It was very good, but really, the food wasn’t the main reason for the trip. It was the camaraderie.

We started out as a group of six, and we’ve kept the number to that. The original group consisted of three fellow teacher friends (all retired), a realtor who has lived in the same neighborhood as I do for over 30 years, and a younger mom of three whose husband was our church’s youth minister at the time. At first we rotated our meeting place each month, but that evolved into a regular spot at Blake’s (a popular local restaurant) the first Thursday of each month. Our youngest member took a full-time teaching job (we miss her, would have seven in our group if she were able to be with us!) and was replaced by the widow of our former principal at Dresden High School. We sit at the same table each month, and the staff knows us very well.

I have known all these women for over 30 years, and four of them for 40 years. If you can do math, you’re figuring out our ages, but that’s okay. I don’t mind sharing my age. Just don’t call me “sweetie” and treat me like my brain is on the level of a child. I can out-walk most of you much younger folks, I guarantee it.

Oops, there I go again, getting off-topic. If you read my blogs regularly, you know I do that a lot.

The way we do our book club is that each person has a turn choosing the book we’re going to read for the month. This is great because it forces us to read genres we might not read otherwise. There have been many times I started a book someone selected and would’ve put it down after a few chapters except for the fact I wanted to be able to participate in the discussion and honor my fellow member’s selection. And you know what? While there are definitely some books I would never read again, I found all of them interesting if not enjoyable.

I’m a strong believer in exploring new experiences and getting out of your comfort zone. I know some people just want to stick with what they know, but for me, that would be a very boring life. I am still curious about the world, and my brain is constantly thinking of ways to expand my horizons.

The books we read help to do that, but the group is so much more. Yes, we discuss the books, but we also talk about trips, grandchildren, health issues, family, and more. Yesterday the six of us rode in the same vehicle for the 72-mile trip to Patti’s, but due to the flow of conversations, the trip seemed much shorter. We had our own room (thank you, Mary Ellen), so we were not bothered by noise from other tables. We shared childhood stories, talked about some serious things, and laughed at other stories. And, oh, how we laughed. We always do, but yesterday I think we were almost giddy from all the food on the way back, and one story after another had us all laughing like school girls.

You see, being older doesn’t mean we don’t have a sense of humor. And no, alcohol was not involved. We were just being ourselves and enjoying the time together. In a way, it was like being in my twenties and thirties again. Kind of like when I’m with my high school best friends Terrie and Nancy, I’m a teen-ager again or a college student working at the local bank during breaks from college. With them, I’m not someone’s mom, someone’s teacher, someone’s wife. I’m just me. With my book club friends, it is similar, although I do have the added labels of “mom,” “teacher,” and “neighbor.”

I feel sorry for people who don’t have good friendships. I know some people are loners by. nature and have no desire to have a large circle of friends, but for me, the more the better. I love people. I may not like all people (well, I think maybe in my lifetime I can count maybe five people I dislike, and I will say that even those people I care about because they are God’s creatures just like all of us–it’s just that I’d rather not spend time with them), and I know I look at people through an innocent lens because I tend to think most people feel the same as I do about the world. I know, that’s a false assumption, but it’s just the way I think. At the age I am now, that’s not likely to change.

My life in retirement could be a fairly lonely one since I can’t drive anymore, and I’m beyond grateful for my friends and family I call my “Uber” drivers who pick me up for civic meetings, the wellness center, and other activities like a wedding or baby shower. I am blessed to have a wonderful husband who is my best friend in life, but even with that blessing, I need friendships. You may be the same way. My advice to anyone who can drive and is lonely is to look for groups to join or activities to do with others. Your church, your local library, a sports group like basketball or pickle ball, a quilting group, a painting class. All of those opportunities and more are available right here in my small town of 11,000, so I know small towns have options.

It may take a while to feel as though you fit in as you meet new people, but chances are you will eventually. Just remember you can always drop out if a year or so of meetings is not to your liking.

And, if all else fails, find a few friends to start a book club.

When we were at Blakes several months ago, “Southern Living” was there to take photos and interview people. A man came to our table and told us about a book club he was once a part of in Birmingham. That club, he said, was high end because they actually traveled to the place where the book was set to discuss the book! Can you imagine? I guess they never read A Gentleman in Moscow since travel there would be undesirable, but wouldn’t it be fun to read Jaws and discuss it at Martha’s Vineyard (or a book by Elon Hildebrand set there)?

Hmm…that gives me an idea. Maybe I need to pick a J.A. Jance book set in Sedona. Rent a house for all of us to stay in for a few days. See, my brain is spinning with ideas.

Happy holidays, everyone. And happy reading!

Traditional books vs. e-books vs audiobooks — the debate!

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

“I just like to hold a book. There’s something about turn ing the page.”

I’ve heard that statement or a variation of it countless times over the past few years. I get it. I’m a book nerd from way back, and going into bookstores and libraries were not only a normal part of my life but also a special part. I never got tired of it, and seeing all the books available piqued my curiosity. I loved magazines as well, with their glossy pictures and interesting articles, and yes, when I was younger, I was into the Archie comic books.

So please understand, if you are one of those people resisting e-books and audiobooks, that I’m not criticizing you. I am, however, hoping to open your mind to new possibilities as I see them.

Remember when audiobooks were available on a CD, and you could get one at a Cracker Barrel restaurant, listen to it in the car while you traveled, and then turn it in at another Cracker Barrel? At least, that’s what my impression was. I never participated in that program, but when audiobooks became available to download on my phone, I jumped at the chance to listen to something besides the radio or a CD.

After all, I did, and do, love books much more than music. I like music, but to listen to it for hours at a time? Nah. Listen to book for several hours? Yep!

I listened to books on my commute back and forth to work and even listened while running errands in town. I listen to books now while walking my dog, putting in treadmill time, cleaning house, or resting at night before going to sleep. I can listen to books and fold laundry, cook meals, work on arts and crafts projects, and more. I don’t have to set aside time to sit down and read.

The narrators have gotten much better over the years, and many books have more than one narrator for each main character’s point of view. Have you ever read “A Gentleman in Moscow?” If so, you likely struggled with the Russian names. If you listen to the audiobook, that struggle is removed, and you can focus on the story, not the names.

Prior to audiobooks, though, I discovered e-books with the purchase of a Kindle reader. Yes, you had to purchase the books, which ranged in price from free (usually not the best books) to an average of $2.99 or so. They’re higher these days, but you can still find books on sale for very little. “I don’t want to spend money on books,” you say. “I just go to the library and check them out.”

Well, you can check out e-books AND audiobooks on an app through your local library. The one I use is called Libby. All you need is a valid library card. You download the app, find the name of your library, and enter your card number. Search for books by title or author, and narrow the search to e-books or audiobooks. You will have the book for two weeks. If you fail to initiate the return, the app will remove it automatically. I think there is a way to renew the book but can’t be sure. I haven’t used the app for quite some time because the vision loss prevents me from being able to read an e-book (unless it is on my iPad and purchased through Kindle–I can enlarge the font so much, there are only about ten words per screen, but since my reading speed is now about the same as a first or second grader, I can’t read an entire book).

For those considered low-vision, legally blind, or blind (remember only about 10to 15 percent of people considered to be blind have no light perception at all, the rest have some vision), an app called BARD is available. The patron must be certified by an appropriate agency or doctor to get access to the app, and audiobooks as well as Braille books (shipped from the Library for Accessible Media) are provided for free to the visually-impaired community.

Side note: the definition of legally blind is if you cannot see the large “E” with your better eye while wearing glasses or contact lenses, you are considered legally blind. If you CAN see the “E” while wearing glasses or contact lenses, no matter how bad your vision is without them, you are NOT legally blind.

To me, there are multiple advantage to e-books. You don’t have to store them. You can purchase them (Kindle app) and have them forever, or you can check them out on Libby. Less expense to purchase, and no need to run to the library to return a book. It’s all handled on your phone, reader, or tablet. If you find yourself struggling to read normal print, if you purchase the e-book, you can enlarge the print as much as you’d like. You can also switch it to dark mode meaning the background is black and the letters are white, so the screen doesn’t glare. You can adjust the brightness and contrast. Your book is always available, whether you’re sitting in a doctor’s office waiting room or sitting in the living room while your family watches something you don’t enjoy. Also, if you have Alexa and don’t mind the Alexa voice, she will read an e-book purchased on Kindle to you. Kind of a cheap audiobook, right?

I’m not suggesting that you switch to those formats and abandon paperback and hardback books. I am suggesting using those formats from time to time can give you more opportunities to indulge in your love of reading.

Believe me, I get the whole “I just want to hold the book.” There is something about seeing the printed word that is special to me. Whether it’s a newspaper, magazine, or book, there’s just something about the printed word that speaks to me. One of the hurts I have due to vision loss is my inability to read stories to my granddaughters, something I truly long to do. Maybe someday, though, they will be the ones reading to me, and we can enjoy books together that way.I realize I may not have convinced you to try other formats, and that’s okay. My goal was to open your mind to new possibilities. But whatever you decide, if you love to read as I do, know that we are kindred spirits.