For the past few days an old song has drummed around in my head. Perhaps it was turning the calendar to another year.  The catchy tune, written in 1949, is Enjoy Yourself.  It could have been written yesterday.

Sing along at your own risk, it will not go away (especially if you are over a certain age): 

You work and work for years and years, you're always on the go
You never take a minute off, too busy makin' dough
Someday you say, you'll have your fun, when you're a millionaire
Imagine all the fun you'll have in your old rockin' chair

Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think
Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink
The years go by, as quickly as a wink
Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think.

I changed my brain channel and thought. How do I enjoy myself?  How do others truly enjoy themselves?  It is not, it seems, the parties, far-away places, luxury hotels, and gourmet foods.  They are fun, a special treat, and not to be scoffed at.  I DO enjoy them.

Your friends are likely to say their purest and lasting enjoyment comes from coffee with a friend, volunteering, sharing their time, talent and treasures.  It’s knowing they have someone to call, no matter what the time or the problem.  The simple things.  The things where a little bit of ourselves is left behind.  Enjoying life at rewarding levels.

So -- enjoy yourself, it is later than you think -- but it is never too late.  

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We seem to hear the phrase more often as the calendar spins into another year: Out with the old, in with the new.  And I want to shout … not so fast.  Old does not mean useless.  In most cases it does not mean obsolete.  The older I get, the louder I want to shout.

My friends of a certain vintage and I speak longingly of the old things we’d like to bring back.  We want a human to answer the telephone when we call. Not a mechanical voice that says ‘listen to the menu, our options have changed (no kidding).  Many of us don’t recognize the ‘options’ offered as anything we’d want.  We press zero.  The robot says ‘sorry, that is not an option, please hang up and call again.’  Why bother?

We called the department store, and a real person answered.  Where can I direct your call.  Shoes. The shoe department answers and checks if they have what we want in stock.

Booking an Airline ticket. Talked with a nice agent who helped find the right flight at the best price. We can still do that. After a long wait the nice agent answers. They immediately inform us there is a $$$ fee for them to personally book our ticket.  (We are placing an order, right? Giving them our business.)  We must decide if we will pay fees for legroom and location on the plane. We won’t question why a round-trip ticket has different departure and return prices.

What happened to full-service gas stations.  Even if we could, we don’t want to change the oil, test the air in tires, monitor the coolant – wherever that is.  We prefer not to stretch across the vehicle to wash the windshield.  Where is the attendant who took our credit card and brought it back with a friendly comment on the weather.  Now, we insert our cards and we’re likely to see on the screen ‘something went wrong. Please see cashier.’

The list of ‘the old’ we miss is much longer.  The ‘new’ is exciting to welcome. Let’s hope the new will include some of the old human touches.

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The New York Times recently had a  'tell us your new year's resolutions, and how you plan to keep them' question.  I couldn’t resist. 

Mine isn’t a New Year’s resolution in the usual sense, I wrote.  I don’t make new year’s resolutions.  I make new day resolutions.  It could be a different resolution each day.  Life changes. Some days we can only accomplish the small stuff.  Other days, we can take on heavier loads.  A lot of days we just complete yesterday’s promise.

I’ve convinced myself that one day at a time is more do-able than a 365-day commitment. Today, I had one resolution: Take down Christmas decorations.   Mission accomplished.  As I boasted to the NYT editor -- my success record is excellent.

If resolutions are on your mind.  Consider your options.  New day, new week, new month. Or if you are in the 9% with more willpower than most … new year.

My resolution for tomorrow?  Make it the best day possible.

And the following day: To raise a cup o’ kindness yet, for Auld Lang Syne.

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MEMORIES ARE MADE OF THIS …

We never know when we are creating a memory.  For ourselves or for someone else.

There are memories that crept into our lives unexpectedly. Memories that friends and family helped create.  Memories that pop up seeing a face or a place.  Memories for which we have everyday reminders.

Last week I received a note from a friend.  He said ‘we just unpacked our ornaments ready to decorate the tree.  Our daughter admired the beautiful glass ornaments you gave us so many years ago. We told her the story, the name of the glass artist, and why the ornaments were so special.  A memory that will stay alive.

The Christmas cards we receive.  We see photos of once tiny infants, now adults.  We say ‘Wow, I remember …’   

Our sons, with children and grandchildren of their own, remember most the year they received Mr. Maggie – their furry black puppy. Mr. Maggie lives on in memories

Time worn decorations, Grandma’s recipes, silly photos, kids letters with misspelled words and childish illustrations.  Such memories.

This special Season, I wish you the nostalgia of old memories.  Happy days to create new memories.  Memories to share with friends. Memories that make you smile.

Memories are made of this...

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This may be a duplicate for some of you.  However, was notified that some malicious actors

messed with the server, and only a few of you received the Grasshopper below:

A few weeks ago my son asked me  'How did you come to be working in Germany in 1954 ?' 

The answer to his question:  I was living in Chicago, loving my life, my work, my friends - but missing my family, in England.  

I  spotted a poster in a window.  It said "Would you like to work in Europe?"   This, my thrifty brain said, could get me a free ticket closer to home.

The invitation was for administrative positions with the US Forces in Europe.  I applied, took the tests -- one month later I was on my way to Germany.

I always wondered, he said, because if you had not gone to Germany, you would not have met Dad.  That means my brother and I would not exist.  None of us would have had the lives and families we have.  Wow.

Imagine: Seeing a poster. Responding to the poster.  Taking a chance. That's what changed my life.  I'd never thought of it in that way.

This revelation made me think of all the serendipitous moments we have in life.

Sometimes all it takes is listening, responding, taking a chance.  The results can surprise us.

# # #

Thanksgiving seems to be a time for taking stock. How are we doing? What are we thankful for?

 I have a habit of looking at old notebooks, old cards, saved letters. They remind me what and who I was grateful for. And, affording me a smile, sometimes who was grateful for me.

A few days ago, I came across a quote which, apparently, years back had captured my attention. It is by Ralph Waldo Emerson.  He says:

“I am thankful for small mercies. I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the universe and is disappointed when anything is less than the best, and I found that I begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods.”

It made me wonder, have we come to expect too much too soon? For too little investment on our part.

We ‘old people’ love to smile among ourselves about our young survival days.  Now, in later years, we see them as growing pains. We didn’t expect much, so anything good and unexpected was a pleasant gift. A surprise.

Today it seems we, and I include myself, expect so much of others, of ourselves, of life.  Makes me wonder if we’re robbing ourselves of the amazing element of surprise. Of gratitude.  I will ponder this as I take stock this Thanksgiving.

In the meantime, thank you Mr. Emerson for reminding us to be full of thanks for moderate goods.  And, to my mother, who constantly urged that we be thankful for small mercies.  Somehow, she was always right. Why did it take so long to realize that, and be thankful.

May this year give you much for which to be thankful.

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Tomorrow is Veterans Day. It was originally named Armistice Day.  At the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month – the day in 1918 when a cease fire to WWI was called, we will give thanks.  We will remember those who cared enough, they were willing to give their all.  

I grew up in England during WWII.  I was 13 when the war ended.  Seeing War through the eyes of a child is different.  We don’t see the pain and scars behind the smiles and bravado.

My town was not reduced to rubble.  We didn’t lose family members.  Our home remained intact for the most part.  As youngsters, the shelters became a nightly routine that was almost exciting.  We even had a guessing game in the shelters … where is it going to land?  ‘It’ referring to the buzz bombs.  We were told, this is how it is right now.  It will get better.

We had a US Military base close by. A few ‘Yanks’ would come to our home for a meal.  We adored them – they brought candy, canned peaches, all kinds of treats from their PX.  They ran races with us, told us stories about their hometowns.  They never mentioned war.

As we think back, we can see the signs we, as children, missed.  The loneliness for their own family, the dread of the next Mission, the joy they received from giving and sharing, the fact that they – complete strangers cared what might happen to us.

So, when Veterans Day rolls around each year, I give thanks for these ‘Yanks’ who were willing to risk their own lives to save ours.  Who protected us from many of the horrors of war.  Who said We will not let you down.

You are my North star.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You changed my world.

# # #

Recently my son asked for additions to his already large inventory of books. He asked that I explore my bookshelves; and share any treasures he may not have read.

Well, as a reader - you know what happens when you begin to check which books you might be willing to part with.  You flip the pages, smile, recall the rest of the story – and put it back on the shelf.

Since this was my son asking, I managed to select a few that met his approval. I could let them go to a good home. 

During my shelf rummaging and page flipping I found a small book titled The Book of Excellence, 236 habits of effective salespeople - published in 1990, a mere 34 years ago.  It was filled with best habits and advice of the day that made me shake my head.  Wow.  

Some advice has stood the test of time.  Other advice?  Well, times have definitely changed.

The book's advice:  Send birthday and anniversary cards.  Spend at least 4 hours a day in front of customers.  Resist fads, whether in clothes or language.  Are your shoes polished?  Get up early and work late. Tell the truth. Be loyal to your employer. Listen. Listen. Listen.

And the list continues: Rapport is not developed on the telephone. Face to face develops long term relationships. All play and no work does not work. Is your hair shaggy and unruly.  Is it too long? Do you use too much hairspray? Spend as much time providing customer service as talking about it. Keep your car, especially the interior, clean at all times. There is no replacement for effort.

I won’t share all 236 habits.  You get the idea.  People and what is important to us change.  Habits, good and bad, stick around unless we shake them up once in a while.  I’m working on developing what I think are more good ones. More reading is on my very long list of more this, and less that.

Never too old to change our habits.

# # # 

My brother, who lives in England, has been visiting for the past ten days.  We decided we must be getting old.  It seems a lot of our conversations, many of which ended with a good belly laugh, began …” Do you remember?”’

Not surprising, most of our memories were good ones, funny ones, about people who helped us.  The freedoms we had as kids, eccentric teachers, stories our parents told.   We laughed about Mr. Airy, a teacher who wore a little rear-view mirror on his glasses; and could whirl a blackboard duster with amazing accuracy at a misbehaving student.  Imagine that today.

We reminisced about how young we were, making our way via public transport from our town in the North to the big city of London.  Another, imagine that.

Food, always a good topic, recalled simple home grown, home prepared foods.  We never ate in a restaurant, except for the occasional fish and chips shop.  The result was  healthy kids, and a deeper respect for ‘how in the world mother did it all.’ 

Memory Lane, providing you don’t spend too much time there, is a great place to visit.  It made Jim and me remember our roots, the good times, how fortunate we were.  Today, as always, we live in a not-so-perfect world. And yet, we can almost guarantee, when your grandchildren go on Memory-Lane trips they will remember the good stuff.  That’s just how we are.

Thanks for the memories …

 # # #

One week ago today the world for many of our friends, families, and neighbors changed. Beauty and calm turned to horror and destruction.

Amidst the tears, desperation, and losses yet to be fully realized; one thing rose to the top.  America, as we know it in our hearts, came through.  Neighbor helped neighbor.  Compassionate people around the country strove to provide links to survival. 

The response was instant, it was instinctive, it was real.  No second guessing, no red tape, no what’s in it for me … it was full blown ‘we care’ at its most personal level.

We couldn’t reach our Asheville son. A resourceful neighbor found a way to let us know he was OK, or as he nonchalantly put it ... we are hanging in there together.

Hurricane Helene left widespread misery in her path.  She also left us with the conviction that despite reports to the contrary, there are still more good people than others.

 As Robert Frost said, ‘we have promises to keep – but there are miles to go before we sleep.’  And so, good people, from my son's neighbor  ... hang in there, together. We need each other.

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