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Posts Tagged ‘Family’

Sell-By Date

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , on October 27, 2026| Leave a Comment »

It’s almost Halloween. We’ve been sprucing things up around here, pulling skeletons out of closets. Trenches that appeared in our yard for utility hook-ups to the casita have left ghostly outlines and dangerous culverts. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not blowing up ginormous black cats to cover the landscape, but we are planning to level the yard and lay new bluestone paths through the garden gate to the patio, and beyond. And baby pictures of the Bug in a princess costume keep popping up on my iPad, so I’ve succumbed to nostalgia.

Lately, while listening to a podcast about the Covid pandemic, I’ve been thinking about how much has changed since 2020. How that interval of time changed us all, everyone in the world. It was a Great Pause, and I’m not sure we’ve actually studied the sociological implications. A researcher said that children around the Grands’ ages were most affected, the early elementary school students who were deprived of classrooms and classmates. Another person said that puppies born during the pandemic were completely untrainable!

The live podcast was streaming from the UK, and a man said he looked inward and decided to pursue a career in acting. He had been active in AIDS circles and dealing with homelessness at about that same time Brexit became a thing; and I thought oh yeah, we had a tornado right after lockdown, and then Ada died. There was loss… upon loss… upon loss. It was a universal insult to our collective psyche.

And then this activist turned actor said, “I was looking at my sell-by date.”

He was comparing us to produce! But that hit home. I’m fast approaching eighty. It’s coming on two years since the Big Fall. Last week I had a dermatologist dig some squamous cell carcinoma out of my forehead, and next week Bob is getting his first cataract done! I don’t need a costume for Halloween this year, the big scar on my head makes me look like the Bride of Frankenstein!

Lettuce is still safe to eat after its sell-by date, it just might be a little wilted. It will no longer grace the table of a Michelin starred restaurant, but you could find the salad at a food pantry. The podcaster was making his case for a chance to Pivot during the pandemic – after Covid, we had two choices, to change, or become cynical. Indeed, the Bride left her practice, and started something new, Bluebird MD.

Covid became a dividing line – between who actually believed in facts and who believed in alternative facts. The conspiracy theorists were free to roam online and IRL. A neighbor insisted our Grands didn’t need to wear masks. A favorite bagel shop felt the same way about masking up for a schmear. Everybody started doing their own research. Friends were lost, alliances changed, and family members splintered. The Bride and the Groom had to shower in their garage apartment before kissing their children goodnight.

Do you remember? It wasn’t so long ago. Our Pumpkin is about to turn twelve. He’s still playing guitar in his band Snakebite, and he fell in love with mountain biking this year… which seems almost impossible in a city, but why not? We all have a sell-by date on our backs. And the Grim Reaper inflates every night in the yard across the street. Can you see my scar? It’s right at the hairline.

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Quirky Community Events

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , on October 20, 2026| Leave a Comment »

“What’s the most joyful sound in the world to you?” For me, it’s the sound of our twin granddaughters laughing. The girls were playing peek-a-boo with each other, running in and out of a tent. Children laughing is the most delightful sound!

I was reading an article about how to find more joy when you’re feeling hopeless. It’s important to keep our spirits up until the midterms and beyond. The author said she liked attending “quirky community events,” like this parallel parking competition in Philadelphia. She said experiencing other people experiencing joy is just as good – although she doesn’t know about my history with Bob sitting on the front porch in Germantown. He liked to sit in the rocking chair and critique every driver who tried to parallel park in front of our house next to the chocolate shop. It was less joyful commentary, more hilarious, biting sarcasm.

This isn’t exactly a community event – not like the Tomato Festival in East Nashville – but it IS a special thing I do, just for me, once or twice a week. And because we were traveling, and then of course I caught a cold, followed by my dermatologist scraping and freezing barnacles off my body, it had been about a month since I participated in the JCC’s water aerobic’s class. Well yesterday I jumped back in the pool and I can attest that it is a joyful experience! And I think our group of mostly old ladies like me is kinda quirky. We walk around the women’s locker room in the altogether and don’t give two hoots what our bodies look like, which is a relief after decades of feeling judged.

“Can you recall something that gave you joy?” Surprisingly, the smell of cabbage brings me joy, but not just any cabbage. Nell didn’t really cook, but when she did she’d make Halupki (hah-loop-keys)! This is stuffed cabbage cooked in sauerkraut! I have some leftover rice, maybe I’ll make Halupkies tonight?

“These really small moments don’t have to fix everything to matter. You can even go on a “search for joy,” Dr. McGonigal said, at a specific location that has potential for uplift, such as a park or a library. Then let your attention wander, she said, and seek something that gives you a burst of delight.” https://www.nytimes.com/2026/10/09/well/find-joy.html

Every now and then I like to stroll around Nashville’s antique emporium. It’s a huge warehouse with two floors of dealers in fine and not so fine furniture and tchotchkes. You never know what you’ll find around a corner in this 50,000 sq ft space and it’s easy to get lost among the many “… Primitive, Victorian, Art Nouveau, Art Deco, Mid-Century Modern (MCM), Hollywood Regency, Architectural Salvage, Historical Pieces, and Man Cave décor” one of a kind finds! I guess it’s as close as I’ll come to a Paris Flea Market. https://www.gaslampantiques.com/

And in a joyful bit of serendipity, my brother Eric and I were both interviewed (separately) last week – I was on Nashville’s Public Radio and he was on Substack! On the way to Nashville, he and his wife Bev were interviewed on the Mall in DC by Matt Berg from Substack’s “Crooked Media: If you recall, Eric flew a Huey, a med-evac helicopter in Vietnam. He said, “I’m a veteran, not a sucker and loser.”

  • The man, named Eric, explained that he’s a decorated combat veteran who spent a year and a half in Vietnam. He had just finished visiting the Vietnam Memorial, where his crew chief and fellow medic are honored. He gazed at the Reflecting Pool with disgust.
  • “It’s an atrocity,” said Eric, who’s visiting from St. Louis, Missouri. “It’s another example of him trying to put his mark on something to make himself feel bigger and better than everyone else.” https://substack.com/@crookedmedia?utm_source=top_search

And how did I get on NPR? Easy, Bob and I were one of the first people to vote EARLY in our district. Early voting numbers are streaming in and that’s a joyful noise to me. Don’t be fooled by right-wing propaganda, even though the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA) has been gutted by the current administration, our state and local agencies have turned to ‘information-sharing networks and an ecosystem of nonprofits and paid consultants’ to fill the gap in a MacGyver-like safety net. That’s why ProPublica reported on some political appointees at the DHS trying to get CISA to hack a voting machine! Not on our watch! https://www.propublica.org/article/cisa-election-security-donald-trump

Enjoy the cooler temperatures everyone! And don’t fall for the blatant bribery coming out of the White House for your vote. Our democracy is not for sale.

Found these twin giraffes for our casita at Gaslamp.

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“Trust but Verify”

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , on September 15, 2026| Leave a Comment »

This is the last thing my brother Jim said to me.

It was the end of a text chain the day before he died – I had sent him an essay on how AI is escaping its sandbox. It could write code to other modules and basically plan its own prison break, making any computer system in the world vulnerable to a malicious bot. Major news networks over the weekend have picked up the story; another AI researcher, Jacob Coxon, quit Anthropic saying it’s ‘crunch time for humanity.’ In ten years time, we could all be extinct! Jim’s response to my fear?

“Chris is this you or a bot?”

I forgot to say how funny my brother was, how he could make me laugh over the absurdity of day to day life. He was Seinfeld before Seinfeld was born. For example, when he got off the plane from MN for the Bride’s wedding, he ended up at UVA’s ER that night for a stroke evaluation. My daughter was a resident at Vandy, but she and her husband had trained at UVA’s med school and were friends with the physicians rotating through the Charlottesville ER. One young doc looked plaintively at my brother, not knowing he was a psychologist, only knowing he was a relative of the Bride, and asked, “When was the last time you felt normal?”

Jim looked over at us with his mischievous eyes and a sly grin. Bob, the Bride and Groom and I all burst out laughing!

Surprisingly, my brother thought AI was the bees knees. He had just signed up for a course on AI management and was using it in his work. His opinion was it was coming whether we liked it or not. It’s a tool, he said, and we better learn how to use it or be left behind. I, on the other hand, hate AI, and I mean Hate. I worry what will happen to the creative class, to children who will never learn how to write a complete sentence, and now unfortunately, I need to add armageddon to my list. But it was not unusual for us to spar intellectually.

I was against the Vietnam War. I saw my friends getting drafted to fight in a conflict we had no business fighting for; coming home maimed and broken. Our step-brother Eric had returned from working on a kibbutz in Israel and felt the same way. When he was drafted Eric refused to carry a gun, and so the Army trained him to be a helicopter pilot. He flew a medevac “Huey” and was one of only two pilots in his unit to survive. I asked him once if he wasn’t safer with a big red cross on the side of his Huey. “It’s more like a target,” he said.

Jim signed up for the war as a matter of honor. A Columbia U graduate, he was always proactive that way, and ended up in Officer Candidate School (OCS) in Georgia. I found his yearbook, yes they published a yearbook of the guys who made it through that grueling program and beside Jim’s picture it said “Infantry”… until someone noticed his score on the final test and rerouted him to Intelligence, probably saving his life.

With a pitstop in California at the Monterey Language School to add Vietnamese to his CV, he shipped out. Jim told me he was mostly partying in the Officer’s Club in a French Colonial building that held daily press briefings journalists called the “Five O’Clock Follies.” Making light of his situation, and not wanting the Flapper to worry I’m sure. He was an Intelligence Officer with a balcony view and sly sense of humor. Later I learned he was briefing generals. Probably interpreting secret documents. He and Eric met up only once over there.

Back at the Bride’s wedding, Jim and Eric sat down in my kitchen and discussed Vietnam for the first time. Two brothers – one who taught me about Motown Soul and the other who introduced me to Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie.

I found Jimmy’s Bronze Star at the back of his closet – for outstanding service against a hostile force in the Republic of Vietnam. He never told anyone that before he returned home for my wedding in 1969 he was awarded the Bronze Star.

I texted back to my brother, “This is me sending you a thing on AI” with a laughing emoji.

Jim loved quoting movies, philosophers and comedians. So of course he quoted Ronald Reagan, “Trust but verify.” I like to think my sister and I influenced him a bit, as his political views became more and more progressive over the years. I’m pretty sure I don’t trust AI. But I always trusted my brother to do the right and proper thing. I watched the Vikings game yesterday and thought about both of my MN brothers – the Vikings GM who stayed home to play with a friend on that July 4th weekend in 1949 when our lives changed forever, and Jim, who saw his mother, grandmother and sister laying on the side of the road unconscious and bleeding. He was only seven years old.

Today my sister Kay turns 92. In this picture from the Bride’s wedding Jim and Kay are sitting in front, Eric and his family are standing in the back to the right, and my Sister-in-Law, Jorja and my niece Lucia, to the left.

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James J Lynn, Ed.D

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , on September 8, 2026| Leave a Comment »

We could talk about Jim Lynn’s exterior life. He grew up in the coal country of Pennsylvania where his Irish ancestors landed generations ago. He worked on the railroad to put himself through Columbia University; enlisting in the Army during the Vietnam War as a matter of honor. He became an Intelligence Officer.

Psychologist and businessman Dr. Jim Lynn died on Sunday, September 6, 2026 at his desk, at home in Shorewood, MN. His sisters were awaiting a weekly invitation for their Zoom call that never came. Born in 1942, Jim was the fifth child in a family of six. He was almost seven years old when his father, Robert, died of a glioblastoma.

One of his earliest memories is of seeing his father return from the hospital with his head bandaged after brain surgery. His first thought was: “I’m going to fix people’s brains when I get older.” And that he did!

Obtaining a doctorate in psychology at the University of the Pacific, thanks to the GI Bill, Jim worked first as an educational psychologist. But it was applying science to the business world that most excited him.  He never wanted to live a 9 to 5 life, he wasn’t about to punch a time clock. 

Always an entrepreneur, the newly minted Dr. Lynn started his own consulting business in 1980 after moving to Minnesota to be closer to his family. He became an advisor and coach to multiple CEOs. He was an expert in adult learning, and a consultant to civic and government leaders. His expertise in public service leadership was known throughout the Twin Cities area.

Jim met his wife of 46 years, Anita Pankratz, while studying at the Monterey Language School in California before shipping out to Saigon. They were married overlooking the Santa Lucia Mountains of Big Sur. She was wearing white go-go boots and he was a handsome, young lieutenant.

When his younger sister once asked him what he actually did for companies that were in trouble, he simply said “I’m like their priest.” He was the best brother his sisters could ask for, a loving husband and loyal friend.

Over the years, Jim has mentored younger clinicians and advised friends and family with alacrity. Whenever there was a problem with school or career, Uncle Jim was always available. After his wife died in 2016, his neighbors rallied to support him in any way they could. A beloved member of the larger Excelsior community, Jim died doing what he loved most, helping others. He never retired from the life he loved.

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The Fourth Trimester

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , on August 25, 2026| Leave a Comment »

My Daughter has a physician friend, a Pediatrician, who specializes in the Fourth Trimester. The time after childbirth – the messy, sleep deprived time when you wake and wonder where you left the baby. The breast abscess time. The confounding, mind numbing onslaught of well-wishers and casseroles.

There is no checklist for new moms; no course curriculum, no nursing visits, no lactation specialists at the ready. At least not in the US, unless of course you can afford help. And if you cannot, too bad. Maybe your mother moves in? The Flapper flew to the Berkshires when the Bride was born. I remember her showing me how to wash the baby’s hair in the sink. Since I’d had a C-section, I needed her help. She had never nursed her babies because the post WWII culture pushed formula and bottles on new moms, so I relied on Bag Balm and a La Leche League phone number.

When I was a newborn, my Father was dying in the dining room from a glioblastoma. My Mother’s doctor blessedly told her she didn’t need to sterilize the bottles, she could just wash them. I wonder who was helping her back in our Year of Living Dangerously. Did my Nana move in? Kay tells me that my crib was in her room.

Other countries have a wide-ranging social network humming along when a baby comes into the world. Parents get many months of paid leave for that first year of life; nurses show up at their home every week. In Finland, the government delivers a Baby Box full of supplies that doubles as a bassinet.

“Currently, the average length of maternity leave in the 27 EU member states is 23.5 weeks. However, some countries go far beyond this minimum requirement. In fact, several EU countries offer over 30 weeks of paid maternity leave, as well as additional parental leave, paid paternity leave, and flexible work arrangements to support families. One of the most notable examples is Sweden, which offers a total of 480 days of paid parental leave, of which 90 days are reserved for fathers. This approach recognizes the importance of shared parental responsibility and aims to promote gender equality, as well as offers financial and social support to families.” https://openpublichealthjournal.com/VOLUME/18/ELOCATOR/e18749445325867/FULLTEXT/

In the USA, 10 days of maternity leave is covered and on average, mothers return to work after 10 WEEKS.

Lindsay Clancy was a Labor and Delivery nurse. She had experienced postpartum depression after the birth of her first two children, and started to spiral again after her third baby was born in 2022. Because of her deteriorating mental health, she admitted herself to two different hospitals; one an out-patient program for postpartum depression in December 2022, and another as an in-patient in January 2023. They discharged her. She was preparing to go back to work, but on January 24 she heard voices telling her to kill herself and her children. She strangled them with exercise bands in her basement, then climbed to the roof of her house, slit her neck and wrists and jumped. Clancy is now paralyzed.

She called two suicide hot lines leading up to that day. She saw a few different doctors and had been prescribed too many psychiatric drugs. I know nothing of the relationship she had with her now divorced husband, or whether her in-laws or parents tried to help her. But I do know that at SIX months, after not sleeping for more than two hours at a time with my second baby, I woke up from six hours of uninterrupted sleep and promptly told Bob he didn’t need to admit me to a hospital after all. And I was serious, but I laughed.

Women in pink tee shirts have been showing up outside Clancy’s courthouse in Plymouth, Massachusetts. At first it was just a few, now there are hundreds in support of a mother who slid slowly from postpartum depression into full blown psychosis. How else could we explain what she did? They say the system failed her. Yesterday the defense asked for a mistrial because yet again, the prosecution brought up Clancy’s Roman Catholic faith. The request for a mistrial was denied. Her lawyer said:

“It’s the same thing again: talking about religion, talking about heaven, talking about killing people and the impact or the effect that it would have on Lindsay, as well as her children.”

One in seven women experience postpartum depression. Postpartum psychosis affects up to two women every 1,000 births.

There are civil suits against the mental health providers who treated Clancy in the works, filed by her ex-husband. If she is convicted of murder she will be sent to prison without the possibility of parole. If she is acquitted by reason of insanity, she will be sent to a psychiatric hospital. In my opinion, this was a mistrial from the very beginning. It is a Greek tragedy come to life, and the press is the chorus. When our country treats the needs of mothers and their children, of families, as a priority, when we support women instead of building a grand ballroom. Waging war against Iran and subverting our own rights at the ballot box.

I have a theory that the fourth trimester lasts a long, long time. My garden gate before a walk.

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Sofa Surfin

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 18, 2026| 2 Comments »

Since my sister Kay arrived in Nashville, she’s been pining for her blue couch. It arrives today from New York City.

Is it purely serendipity that everyone in our family was on the hunt for a new sofa at the same time? It all started with the Rocker and Aunt Kiki. They said goodbye to their starter home and just moved into another with room to grow for the Twins – and an actual playroom! So they packed up their car and went on a safari to IKEA to look for a durable sofa. Little did they know it would be like taking the girls to the circus. Their friends went along with another toddler and there was free range play all over the store capped by a lunch of Swedish meatballs. Note to young parents: if the heat is getting you down, try shopping at IKEA!

Meanwhile, Kay flew back to Manhattan to bid adieu to her Carnegie Hill apartment and retrieve her blue couch. Spoiler alert: I use “sofa” and “couch” interchangeably, but if you want to know the difference between the two, a couch is less formal and more comfy. It is from the French cucher, which means to sleep! A sofa, otoh, is more formal and structured, it’s a more decorative less functional piece of furniture. Believe me, I just looked it up!

Back in Nashville, the Bride was wanting to turn their second floor family room into a teenage hangout. Since the Love Bug is starting high school, with a newly painted bedroom btw, it was time to redesign the living areas of their house. The piano was moved upstairs, along with the small sectional in the family room off the kitchen. My daughter had her eye on the Lovesac – billed as “The World’s Most Adaptable Couch.” And with two kids and two dogs, she needed something sturdy, with zip-on zip-off machine washable pillow coverings. And so a sectional appeared one day in their study last week, in many boxes ready to unpack and put together, like so many comfy puzzle pieces.

A delightful niece joined Kay last week to help her pack up over 60 years of memories, while our realtor/nephew managed to put her 4th floor co-op on the market.

With couches on the move in one way or another, I realized I needed a sleeper sofa for the casita after we received its CO. Now sleeper sofas have evolved since the Jennifer Convertible sofa days when you were destined to sleep with a metal bar sticking somewhere into your back. I had one of those in my first marriage – let’s just say it was a tea rose covered chintz that is better left forgotten. We visited our local furniture store only to learn that the best of the breed is American Leather, no metal bars, and it doesn’t have to be leather; however, a queen sleeper would set us back $5,000 to $10,000… So, I did what any other rational human being would do, I turned to social media.

While Kay’s elevator was being replaced there, I had set her up with a futon-like, white sofa for a few months here. It was my first Facebook Marketplace find, direct from Wayfair and still in a box. But it was too hard to sit on and too white. It just wasn’t her blue couch that she bought with a dear friend a few years ago in NC, so it had to go. Oh, and her flight back to Nashville was cancelled, so Kay spent her last night in the City sleeping on another niece’s couch!

Musical Sofa Surfin is about to end. We’ve decided on a green Koala sleeper sofa for the casita and are simply waiting for the Labor Day Sale to order one. And along with the blue couch on the truck from NY, Kay’s artwork will appear today; as well as several tables and lamps and boxes. Enough I hope to make this place feel like home.

And Happy First Day of School to all those Southern parents sending their little ones off this week. Look at how these two Grands have grown!

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Tomayto Tomahto

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 11, 2026| 2 Comments »

There’s nothing like a Jersey tomato – all you need is white bread, mayo, salt and pepper, and lunch is served. New Jersey is the Garden State after all, and it grows more blueberries and cranberries than Cabot Cove. But after landing in the South, I’ve come to appreciate a ripe, organic, multicolored heirloom tomato. Sometimes, I’ll even slather on some pimento cheese and skip the mayo! And taking Southern a step further, who doesn’t love a fried green tomato?

This past weekend was East Nashville’s Tomato Festival, aka “Tomato Art Fest.” https://www.tomatoartfest.com/

Our cousin Peggy, our ice storm savior, is a fabulous cook who loves to host a good party and also happens to live in East. btw East Nashville has been called the Portlandia of the South, where artists and musicians congregate on Gothic front porches. Naturally, Peg threw a tomato cocktail party that couldn’t be beat! Her dining table was covered with tomatoes of many colors, a huge pot of gazpacho, skewered Caprese balls of yumminess, and all the fixins for the aforementioned sandwich.

We contributed my famous Mango Tomatillo Salsa. I say “we” because Bob is instrumental as sous chef in the kitchen – he chops the red onion when my crying gets out of hand, and he always cuts up the mango. This salsa recipe is over 25 years old, and that is hard to imagine! I first made it in NJ for the Bride’s college graduation party in our Rumson backyard. You know the one, with a tent under the mulberry tree where our dog Buddha grazed, and we first met the Bride’s college boyfriend. I still have the small cookbook – “Salsas, Sambals, Chutneys,& Chowchows – Intensely Flavored Little Dishes From Around the World,” by Schlesinger and Willoughby copyright 1993.

To be honest, I always thought a tomatillo was a Mexican tomato! But while searching Google, AI dissuaded me of that notion: . “Even though the word means “little tomato” in Spanish and they look like small green fruits, they belong to a different plant genus (Physalis). They are more closely related to ground cherries and cape gooseberries than to standard red or green tomatoes.”

Peg and her husband Paul had just converted a deck into a wraparound screened porch at the back of their historic house. And I must be accommodating to this climate, since the 90 degree temps felt lovely under two ceiling fans. There were no phones in sight as we met and mingled with their friends and neighbors – nurses, political activists, doctors, and potters. Their dog George, a black mini-Poodle, roamed around with his girlfriend, Gracie, a white Westie. I was dazzled by the sheer number of tomato earrings!

The Love Bug walked over to her friend’s house for a sleepover. The next day was the annual Tomato Festival parade and run with entertainment and FUN galore. Peggy is a runner so we wished her well. We tried talking the Pumpkin into entering a redhead contest, but he would have none of it. If only I had a tiny streak left of my strawberry blond hair. I was a chameleon as a kid, turning a deeper shade of red in the winter and nearly platinum blond in the summer. My Nana was the redhead in our family, a deep, glorious auburn color with braids wrapped around her head.

Please enjoy this tomato feast for the eyes!

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7 Surreal Pro-Aging Tips

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on July 14, 2026| Leave a Comment »

It’s been a busy week folks. My lovely Great Niece and her two teens were visiting their Grandmother Kay from Missouri. We went out for barbeque and also did a tour of Nashville’s famous Frist Museum. “Fifty Years of Dreams,” the International Surrealism exhibit is on loan from the Tate in London and was not exactly Kay’s cup of tea. Artists like Salvador Dalí, Max Ernst, René Magritte, and Joan Miró were on display to challenge our usual mode of thinking about art – not as figural representations so much as dreamlike illusions of the subconscious mind.

Last night I had a bizarre dream about a bathtub, maybe I should break out a paintbrush?

Which leads me to the topic of pro-aging. After the past few years, after my nearly fatal fall and osteoporosis diagnosis, I figure I need to reframe the future. I’m not “anti-aging” so much because aging means we’re not dead yet! I read about a 91 year old who is hiking the Appalachian Trail this morning; and I also read a physician’s tips for turning our golden years into super powers. And the first thing the doctor prescribes is:

1: MOVEMENT.  “… muscle is your metabolic reserve. It stores glucose, regulates insulin, and secretes anti-inflammatory signals (called myokines) every time you lift something heavier than your cat.” Our mitochondria are the cells that run our metabolic system and they rely on strength training and cardio fitness. When the weather cooperates, I walk over a mile on the Greenway, and I love lifting my 20+ lb Grandbabies!

2: FEED YOUR BRAIN: “… polyphenols (hello berries), omega-3s (walnuts, flax, chia seeds), fiber (your microbiome says thank you), and glucose in stable, slow-drip doses. Add in plant-based meals, and you reduce neuroinflammation, support neurogenesis, and stabilize your blood sugar.” In other words, limit meat and forget fad diets and GLP 1 shots, it’s not how you look, it’s how are you thinking that counts! We’re eating berries and peaches from the Farmer’s Market these days.

3: STOP RUMINATING: “… older adults who age well develop emotional regulation superpowers, often through something called “positivity bias”. They literally train their brains to spend more time recalling positive memories and interpreting ambiguous events more generously. Instead of recalling those times you were bullied in school, remember that teacher or friend who helped you navigate through a crisis. I like to list my grateful highlights every night before bed.

4: WAKE UP WITH PURPOSE: “Purpose is Prozac for the soul. And unlike Prozac, it increases telomerase activity, the enzyme that protects your telomeres (those caps at the end of your chromosomes that keep your DNA from unraveling like an old phone charger).” If it’s Tuesday, I’m writing! Granted I love a day when Bob and I are free of doctor and PT appointments, but I also love my Mahjongg Thursdays! And I just added water aerobics to a few other days, so take that purpose!

5: CULTIVATE HABITS: “The brain’s prefrontal cortex tires easily. It’s a sprinter, not a marathoner. That’s why the people who age well don’t make a thousand decisions every day. They automate the good stuff.” Routines leave your brain free to do Wordle. I like to say, “Make it like brushing your teeth.” That early morning or post-dinner walk in the neighborhood. Going to bed at the same time every night. Nell used to hug and kiss me goodbye every time I left the house, because, “You never know.”

6: LAUGH MORE: “Humor reduces cortisol, increases immune cell production, and improves vascular function. Laughter literally exercises your vagus nerve, which is like the tuning fork of your nervous system.” Over the years, I find myself saying, “Someday we’ll look back at this and laugh.” Maybe I take the balcony view too often, but supposedly self-deprecating humor is the best of all – it builds resilience. Bob and I crack up about something nearly every day, maybe it’s good for your marriage too?

7: STAY CURIOUS: “Learning new things increases brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF), your brain’s growth fertilizer. Novelty encourages the hippocampus (memory) and prefrontal cortex (decision-making) to keep firing.” Walk away from your comfort zone and try something new. I used to hate any meeting in which somebody said, ” Oh NO, we tried that before and it didn’t work!” You don’t have to learn Chinese, but you can learn to master American Mahjongg. In fact I just won a game for the second time this month!

Many thanks to Dr Laurie Marbas for her insight into aging. https://drlauriemarbas.substack.com/p/the-wisdom-years-7-habits-that-make

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Soccer vs Football

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , on July 7, 2026| 2 Comments »

A long time ago, I asked my brother Mike, who was the GM of the Minnesota Vikings at the time, if soccer would ever replace football in this country. He didn’t hesitate to say, “No!” But I’m not so sure. I mean, think about Ted Lasso.

Since the early 2000s physicians and the NFL have known just what repeated concussions can do to the brain. Chronic traumatic encephalopathy, aka CTE, has been diagnosed in more than 345 post-mortem exams of 376 former football players. It’s estimated that 1 in 3 current players think they have the disease. Getting knocked out isn’t necessary, smaller impacts over time can be just as debilitating. And it’s nothing new in contact sports, boxers in the 1920s developed cauliflower ears and neurological symptoms – back then it was called “dementia pugilistica.”

Being a good Jewish mother, I signed my son up for soccer when he was in pre-school. The town league of Mini-Mights needed coaches, so I signed myself up for the course as well. I spent a day in a room with neighbors learning all the rules of soccer and taking a test, only to find myself assigning parents their weekend to bring orange wedges. Oh and following minor herds of wildebeests across a field in pursuit of a ball. I did get to wear a whistle.

We never got to the point of worrying about headers in soccer since ice hockey soon enough took precedence. What mother didn’t love the idea of ramming another hockey player against the boards? After all, ‘checking’ was allowed after a certain age whether we liked it or not. But I found myself wondering about the impact of headers while watching snippets of FIFA games these past weeks. Does hitting a soccer ball with your head cause the same kind of damage tackling can cause in American football? The answer is, maybe?

“Biomechanical modeling studies suggest that minor, repetitive head impacts could change the microstructure of the brain’s white matter, which plays a critical role in learning and memory. Diffusion MRI brain imaging can assess white matter microstructure, but due to technical hurdles, only in areas deep within the brain.” https://www.cuimc.columbia.edu/news/soccer-heading-does-most-damage-brain-area-critical-cognition

In other words, since evaluating the outer layers of white matter is difficult if not impossible now, we don’t know how impactful headers might be for young growing brains. But researchers have found repeated injuries to the skull do impair cognitive function. “Even with today’s lighter (soccer) balls, heading still jars the brain and is associated with learning and memory deficits, though the impacts do not cause concussions.”

I found myself rooting for Belgium during last night’s game in Seattle. After a perfectly patriotic Fourth of July, I was dismayed by Mr T’s interference in the FIFA World Cup playbook, giving Balogun a pass after a red card. Bob insisted the card was unfair, but we both agreed you don’t go behind the scenes and call President Infantino for a favor. Does he think he’s the Godfather? A red card is a red card. FIFA fever had reigned supreme for 24 days without one mention of the Toddler in Chief, so I guess he had to seek some publicity.

Still, I felt sorry for our guys. I cringed when the captain of the U.S. Men’s National Team (USMNT), Christian Pulisic, kicked another man’s heel instead of the ball. Born in PA but playing in the UK for a reported $73 million dollars, I felt slightly better this morning for Pulisic. Here I am with the Rocker in our 80s hair days.

ps: UEFA, the governing body of European soccer, said in a statement that the suspension of Balogun’s ban threatened the reputation of the tournament. “When the certainty of rules is no longer guaranteed by its guardians, the integrity of the game is at stake and the credibility of a competition is undermined,” UEFA said.

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Playing Mahjongg By Myself

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , on June 30, 2026| Leave a Comment »

First of all, strike up the band! It’s been 250 years and our country is still standing. We’re a bit bruised by the current occupant of the White House, and maybe our bones are getting brittle, and sure, our friends overseas (and to the north and south) don’t want to play with us anymore, but it’s all good. At least the SCOTUS sometimes still gets it right – every now and then. The New York Times reported yesterday:

“The Supreme Court on Monday declined a request by President Trump to review a $5 million civil judgment against him after a jury found in 2023 that he sexually abused and defamed the writer E. Jean Carroll. The announcement by the justices did not include any reasoning, and no public dissents were noted.”

Hooray for E Jean! She will maybe? get her 5 million; yep, the Justices pretty much said Mr T is a sexual predator, so what? He was found to have done the dirty deed at Bergdorf’s and he’s going to have to pay the fine. Maybe he can sell a few more coins with his head on them? And hold the presses! The Supreme Court just now rejected Mr T’s efforts to end birthright citizenship by a 6 -3 vote! Will wonders never cease.

But this morning I wanted to talk about personal friendships, and gaming. Not the internet type of gaming which is a solo endeavor – the kind where you actually sit down at a table with humans. My husband Bob isn’t competitive. In fact, he hates thinking of anybody losing, because when you win somebody has to lose, right? I used to joke that my husband was the only doctor in these United States who hates golf! He comes by this disinterest naturally.

His Mother, Grandma Ada, also looked askance at games in general. She never retired from her marriage counselor career, helping all the aides in her senior living community navigate love and loss. Whenever asked when she was going to retire, Ada would say, “What am I going to do, sit around and play canasta?”

It’s kind of funny that my sister Kay also has some disdain for games although she’s been known to play a card game called Spit and Malice. Sounds intriguing right? There’s a guy named Bill who would love to rope her into a weekly Bingo game, stay tuned! I used to think only Catholics played Bingo.

My neighbor, N, told me she started playing Mahjongg by herself to get better at learning the 2026 card and figuring out what to discard during the Charleston. She was a little slow in the beginning getting started, wanting to ask our teacher, Robin, for recommendations in the library. Since Robin flew back to NJ for the summer, N and I have been hosting games in our homes and I’ve noticed that she is now faster and surpassing many of us in her level of play!

So I figured I’d give it a shot. My dining table is set up as if four people are playing Mahjongg, but it’s just me. It’s difficult keeping four hands together and trying to stay focused while phones ring and the laundry calls my name. One is the loneliest number.

Did you happen to catch the PBS show “Wired for Connection?” https://pbs.org/show/wired-for-connection?source=social

Stay with me. It’s a fascinating look into the latest science on loneliness and how we humans are social animals. Evidence based, they study the effects of friendship: lower blood pressure: reduced dementia risk; stronger immunity; better sleep; and a longer lifespan. Not bad! And you would not believe the actual health complications that can result from a solitary lifestyle.

I’ve never been a girl gang type. Usually my MO is to have a few close friends and that’s it. Both of my mothers were loners. The Flapper was too busy working to socialize and Nell never learned to drive. We were like two Rapunzels on that hill in Victory Gardens. But since moving to Nashville in my dotage, I’ve acquired a bit of a posse.

There’s a few women who live on my street that are “ride or die” friends. And of course there’s cousin Peg in East Nash. We have the Germantown crew who still consider us friends/neighbors since we survived a tornado together, followed immediately by the pandemic and one near/trip to Italy. There’s always the Big Chill childhood friends who are scattered geographically but still close. And just this past year, I’ve found a whole new group of Mahjongg mavens!

There’s R who gives me a ride in her menopause convertible. There’s A and C, also Jersey girls, and Em a native Nashvillian and a realtor. There’s D who’s in charge of keeping a space for us in the library, and the aforementioned N from the block. And there are more women who cycle in and out depending on their schedules.

So I’m feeling hopeful. We Americans can right this ship! And I’m going to invite a few people over for the Fourth – the holiday that forever changed my family in our Year of Living Dangerously. Because why not celebrate our freedom while we still can?

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