…As I look back over my life there were so many things left undone. Don’t let it happen to you. So many things I started and didn’t finish. For instance that carton of chocolate fudge ice cream in the freezer, I had better go finish that or I will regret it all afternoon.

Thus began the email from a friend whose memoir I worked on a couple years ago. He’s in his 80s and sent this essay  (written by another author) out to a wide circle of friends and family with the comment:

READ THIS VERY SLOWLY… IT’S PRETTY PROFOUND.

Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven’t thought about it, don’t have it on their schedule, didn’t know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

 

I got to thinking one day about all those people on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I’ve tried to be a little more flexible.

How many women out there will eat at home because their husbands didn’t suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word ‘refrigeration’ mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched ‘Jeopardy’ on television?

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said, “How about going to lunch in a half hour?” She would gasp and stammer, “I can’t. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, it looks like rain.” And my personal favorite: “It’s Monday.”

 

She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.

 

Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect! We’ll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained.  We’ll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We’ll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.

 

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of “I’m going to,” “I plan on,” and

“Someday, when things are settled down a bit.”

 

When anyone calls my ‘seize the moment’ friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes and you’re ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Rollerblades and   skip an elevator for a bungee cord.

 

My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It’s just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.

 

Now go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

An aside from your’s truly—Here’s a few links to get you started:

https://bucketlist.org/

https://daringtolivefully.com/bucket-list-ideas

http://ryaneller.com/281-awesome-bucket-list-items-you-should-add-to-your-list/

 

Guess what? You don’t have to be rich or awesomely daring to have a fulfilling bucket list–it is yours so make of it what you will.

Can’t see yourself “Running with the bulls in Pamplona?” How about visiting a working ranch or farm and feeding a calf?

Not able to afford “Relaxing in Tahiti for 2 weeks?” How about retreating for a weekend to a gorgeous late half a day’s drive away?

“Mushing a dogsled” a bit out of reach? Find a friend with a big dog and this winter go to the

park, tie that puppy to your kid’s plastic sled and hang on. Mush, baby!

Here’s one you can do (I can help with that):

177. Have a book published 

 

Okay–back to my friend’s essay:

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry-go-round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight or   gazed at the sun into the fading night?

Do you run through each day on the fly?

When you ask, “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?

 

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, “We’ll do it tomorrow.” And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch?  Let a good friendship die? Just call to say “Hi?”

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift thrown away… Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over. Show your friends how much you care…

 

“Life may not be the party we hoped for,

but while we are here, we might as well go flying!”

 

I’ll do a bit of confessing here. I’ve about wrapped up a memoir book for a couple here in southern New Mexico so, to celebrate, I bought a bottle of red wine and a big fat piece of tiramisu cake. I devoured the cake while reading this essay but will show some restraint with the wine and wait till tonight.

Living large my friends, love and blessings to you,

Karen

A beautiful example of a short memoir, written by Carlos Lopez, Las Cruces Sun News reporter,  a few days ago. Happy Birthday, Isabel! Include the details about cookies, education and life lessons in your story, just like he did.

Mesilla Park resident turns 105. Here’s her advice

Carlos Andres López, Las Cruces Sun-News Published 6:13 p.m. MT Oct. 3, 2017 | Updated 8:21 p.m. MT Oct. 3, 2017

(Follow the link to see photos by Josh Bachman/Sun-News)

 

MESILLA PARK – A life devoted to working hard and maintaining a strict diet of fresh food has paid off for longtime Mesilla Park resident Isabel Valles Uribe, who celebrated her 105th birthday last week surrounded by over 150 family members and friends.

“Trabajè todo mi vida muy duro (I’ve worked hard all my life),” Uribe said Tuesday while sitting in the living room of her Mesilla Park home, where she and her late husband, Concepcion Uribe, retired after operating a general store in San Miguel from 1947 to 1972.

“My mother is very loving and patient — it’s amazing,” her daughter, Flavia Pavia, said.

 

Isabel was born in Artesia on Sept. 27, 1912, about eight months after New Mexico became the 47th state in the United States. Her parents were Jose and Tomasita Valles, and she was the eighth of 16 children, according to Pavia.

At age 10, Isabel moved from Artesia to Vinton, Texas, with her parents and siblings, Pavia said. The family then relocated to the southern Doña Ana County community of La Mesa in 1924 and later settled in nearby San Miguel in 1926.

 

Pavia said her mother never attended school as a child but taught herself to how read and write in English and Spanish. Isabel spent her childhood helping her mother care for younger siblings, and later worked as a field worker, picking cotton and peas.

In 1935, she married Concepcion. The following year, Pavia, the couple’s first child, was born. They also had two sons, Homero and Renato. The Uribe family lived in San Miguel, where they opened Concho’s Mercantile in 1947.

“They both ran the business until 1972,” said Pavia, who grew up working in the store. “It was a general store and we sold everything from clothing and shoes to fresh meat.”

After retiring in 1972, the couple relocated to Mesilla Park and spent their retirement traveling to places such as Mexico City and other areas, Pavia said. Concepcion died in 2003 at age 95; their son Renato died in 2015 at age 75.

 

In addition to three children, they have 14 grandchildren, 24 great grandchildren and seven great-great grandchildren, Pavia said.

Today, Isabel enjoys relatively good health — something she and her daughter attribute to a lifetime of working hard and eating right.

 

“Mama does not eat anything canned. Fresh veggies, she says, that’s the best thing for you,” Pavia said, adding that her mother “has great faith in the Lord.”

 

But she also has a sweet tooth and regularly bakes batches of oatmeal cookies, or galletas, from a beloved recipe she learned years ago. Her secret? She flavors them with a hint of cinnamon, which she said makes them “very tasty.”

She’s also been making homemade tamales for many decades and still helps spread fresh masa on corn husks when making them with her daughter.

She stays active with housework, tending to her six chickens and playing the board game Rummikub.

Over the past weekend, she celebrated her birthday with large party at a church with more than 150 people in attendance, Pavia said. “Ever since her 100th birthday, we’ve celebrated really big,” she added.

One her gifts included a certificate of recognition from Gov. Susana Martinez that was delivered to her home on Monday. “I wish you many blessings and hope that special day is celebrated with the love of family and friends,” Martinez’s certificate states.

She and her youngest brother, Cleto Valles, 87, are the last of their siblings still living, according to Pavia. “We keep saying, ‘Thank God we have her for another year’ — that is wonderful,” she said.

Carlos Andres López can be reached 575-541-5453, carlopez@lcsun-news.com or @carlopez_los on Twitter.

Heads up–not many of us are blessed to live to 105, please don’t wait.

Now go, be inspired, and write your family’s stories. You can do it!

 

 

Got a funny story in your personal history? Share the memory and ask your family to help fill in any details you’ve missed. Here’s one of mine from a few years back. Hope it brings a smile to your face…

 

The Skunkinator

My son calls me the “Skunkinator.” Several nights ago our cat, Fudge, came in for the night, bearing the residue of a recent close encounter with a skunk. Fed up, next morning I trudged off to the neighbors to borrow a humane live trap. Jack and Martha have lived out here in the country for 25 years and know a thing or two about skunks.

 

I was about to be schooled.

 

Thursday night, I carefully set the trap. Friday morning—nothing. I baited the trap again with a delectable half-serving of peanut butter sandwich, complete with homemade jam. Jack had claimed this would work and I was hoping word about my devious plan had not leaked out among the skunk community. Saturday I forgot about it and went out to dinner with my husband on a long overdue date. Sunday morning, while getting ready for church, I looked out the bedroom window to see Fudge sitting by the trap intently watching a black and white something trot around inside. Our other cat, Socks, matches that description so I thought she’d become a little too curious and been nabbed. Looking again, I yelled, “I got a skunk!” and dashed out the front door in my bathrobe.

 

Shooing the cat away with difficulty I cautiously approached the trap from behind a tree and observed a very nervous, very small skunk corralled inside. At this point I realized something about live traps. They come in different sizes. This one was designed to contain a full-sized skunk, preventing it from lifting its tail and deploying its defensive mechanism. Jack hadn’t mentioned the size issue. My skunk had room to do laps and set up housekeeping.

 

I retrieved an old rug from the rag box, mentally rehearsing what I knew about skunks. Number one fact being that skunks won’t spray what they can’t see. My delighted children all trooped out to watch the spectacle. Informing them that I would be releasing Missy Skunk up the river, I busily made plans for dropping her off and making it to church, deciding that in the interest of time I would get dressed first. Garbed in my best pantsuit, I did my hair while my husband proceeded to tell me what nice pets skunks make and did I think the neighbors would mind? I was oblivious to the sly grin with which he delivered this bit of information.

 

My hair still up in rollers, I carefully held the old rug in front of me like some motherly matador in high heels as I tried to approach the trap without upsetting the skunk. It didn’t work. Small spritzes of cologne-like delicacy let me know that was close enough, thank you. In that last mad dash to throw the rug over the trap my nose must have gone into olfactory overload. The odor honestly didn’t seem too bad at the time.

 

Carrying trap and all at arms’ length, I carefully deposited it in the back of the pickup then headed inside to wash my hands, breezing by my family, who were all ready and groomed for church. They speedily informed me that I “stunk” and needed to change my clothes. Five minutes later I handed the offending duds out the door to my snickering husband, put on old clothes and prepared to finish the job. We drove Missy Skunk five miles up the river and released her in the thick willow breaks, feeling good about ourselves. She left with one parting defensive salute and never looked back.

 

I sat at the back of the church that morning in a faint cloud, considering that the good Lord who made both skunks and mothers had taught me something about getting carried away with multi-tasking.

School has been back in session for a few weeks. It’s funny how our early school experiences color our sense of time and seasons for the rest of our lives. Reminiscing about those old school days is a great way to bridge the generations and start some fun conversations with your family. You can even work on these questions while you’re driving the family taxi cab to school, lessons, and sports practices. In fact, that’s a great time to have some meaningful conversations and build your family legacy.

 

Let’s do a round-up across generations and I’ll give you some examples to get your thoughts going.

 

First, start with your parents’ or grandparents’ school memories. Start by asking these questions and get your kids involved in the process.

 

One of your earliest memories about school

Being teased at the bus stop, early encounters with loyal friends and merciless bullies

Favorite teacher

The imaginative, kind English teacher who made those classics come alive with dramatic readings. She pushed us because she knew we could do it.

Quirky teacher or friend from school

The junior high teacher who took on the crazy experience of coaching 29 7^th graders in reenacting the kidnapping of Helen of Troy. How great it was to learn how to sword fight like the Greeks and Trojans and how to fake a really dramatic death scene. We loved it!

Favorite or most dreaded school subject or grade in school

Geometry. Proofs. Need I say more?

Field trips, recess, lunchtime memories

Hanging from the monkey bars, rolling inside tractor tires, kickball, trading lunches with your best friend. Spam? Deviled Ham? Tortillas and beans? School cafeteria Spanish rice—yum! I’m not kidding, are you going to eat that? Snorting milk out your nose after your friends cracked a joke. Bet that made you laugh again right now.

Travel to or from school

Did you walk, ride a horse? Take a long bus ride? Was it uphill both ways in the snow? You know the drill, but dig a little, especially for the unique, memorable, that “one time I’ll never forget…”

 

Some folks didn’t have a typical school experience. Here’s an account from Verena Andregg Mahaney, who grew up on a ranch on what is today White Sands:

(Homes on the Range: Oral Recollections of Early Ranch Life on the U.S. Army White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico, edited by Peter I. Eidenbach and Beth Morgan, pg. 90):

My Uncle Frank would go to town for supplies. He would go to our teachers at Alameda school in Las Cruces, and he would get work for us to do—homework and books and stuff. Mom would kindly teach us, and then he’d take all this back, you know, when he’d go back for supplies again. He’d take it in to the school and get more work and have ‘em to grade it, and we got report cards like everybody else….

 

Sports, music, drama memories

Doesn’t matter whether you were a star, a dud, an ever faithful participant or tried to avoid these experiences. Talk about it, what stands out? Can you call up the incredible brain numbing stinging of getting hit in the nose with a basketball? If not, you were a better catch than I was.

What kind of student were you?

How has this played out in the rest of your life? Do you like to learn? Are you still the “class clown?”

What is the most important thing you learned during school?

Think about Robert Fulghum’s All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

This from my daughter Alexis:  Having the mindset  that  even if  something doesn’t come naturally , whether a subject or a sport, whatever it is, you can still work hard and do a good job.

 

Second, answer these same questions for yourself. Note the differences and common things across the years.

Describe your best friend from school

If you could go back to any school year which one would you choose and why?

Have you ever gone back to visit and thank a teacher?

 

Third, ask your kids or another young relative this same set of questions. Then add a few more into the mix:

What do you dream about being/doing when you grow up?

If you could invent anything what would it be?

What do you like most about school?

 

After you’ve worked your way through these questions you’ll know your family quite a bit better. You’ll also have completed an entire chapter on school memories for your memoir. Now, how hard was that? What a great way to find some shared interests, learn something new about each other and enjoy some belly laughs at the old memories.

Enjoy your weekend,

Karen

 

This month has been full of hard things for so many people — tragic storms, earthquakes, fires, etc. How do you write about hopes and dreams that have gone up in flames, been drowned by sorrow or circumstance or crumbled to pieces in the shaking of life? I’m not talking  about the dreams you wake up from. The hopes and wishes kind.

 

Here’s some ideas for writing about and dealing with the hard life memories or broken hopes and dreams. They’re part of your story too.

 

-Describe the dream

-Relate what happened as if you are on the outside observer

-Go back and write about it with the emotion and feelings

-Now, try writing a new ending, what could have happened, what should have happened, what would have happened if….

 

This is not about being the Queen of Denial; it’s about frame of reference.

 

Author Manfred F. R. Kets de Vries wrote an insightful article entitled To Get Over Something Write About It  for the Harvard Business Review. His basic premise, upheld by research spanning over 100 years is this:

“The combination of reflective writing and talking about certain key experiences creates a powerful force to help us surmount difficulties and can hasten our capacity to come to terms with (or to digest) events and move on.”

 

The health benefits of writing about your life are extensive and span the whole of mental, physical and spiritual experience. How you think about the circumstances can help settle it in your memory in a way that is realistic about your life and memories and also helps you move forward with hope, joy and new dreams.

Or maybe it is. Sometimes the hard things we experience become fuel for some humorous remembering. Baxter Black, one of my favorite humor columnists, regularly turns tales of ranch accidents and disasters involving large animals or recalcitrant transportation into deep- down- laugh -out -loud humor.

 

This yanks my funny bone because it’s part of my memory bank too. In fact, there are quite a few deposits under this category. You know how people flip houses these days? Well, my parents went through a stage of flipping horses (note—this is not the same as flipping cows at midnight, that’s a whole ’nother story).

 

My brother and I, as resilient little scrappers, often had the job of “getting the kinks out” of whatever project horse or pony was bunking with the regulars in the barn. In retrospect this taught us both some great life skills we’ve used in a variety of situations from work to home. To this end I’ve ridden, more or less successfully:

 

-A Morgan with her head so high from driving I could kiss her between the ears. She would have liked to knock out teeth and bloody the nose of whichever human rider was trying to train her to lower her head and relax a bit. Note to self—a battle of the wills seldom succeeds with either horses or people, try a different method.

-Shetland ponies. A succession of them. I will NEVER buy one of these “children’s models” for any future grandkids. These have to classify as the worst bucking off experiences ever. It does not matter if your feet almost touch the ground. You will still fall. Hard.

-A high strung quarter horse mare who introduced me to the whole experience of getting the wind knocked out of you. To her credit, once I was lying on the ground, staring up at her furry belly and gawping for air she stood immobile, tickling my face with stiff whiskers and snuffing at me.

-A small Grulla mare with a genius for solving physics problems on the fly. She had mastered the Olympic sport of scraping a rider off under the lowest branch she could find. Her gift for instantly analyzing the trajectory and height of a rider compared proportionately to the height of a branch qualified her for a degree in higher level math.

-The carnivorous horse who pinned me against the truck so she could steal my bologna and mustard sandwich.

 

Here’s a couple links to some folks with a gift for seeing the “funny” in life:

Anytime Mike Rowe shares texts and emails from his mom—tune in. They share a similar sense of humor and will help you re-awaken your sense of the ludicrous.

http://mikerowe.com/2017/09/tfm-my-monthly-haircut/

 

And of course Mr. Baxter Black, check out his regular column or Critter Tales on the website:

http://baxterblack.com/

 

How about writing up a quick collection of some of your favorite funny stories this weekend? Also, take a look at the tough times through a wacky humor lens – it sure can help the memories sit a bit better. You are cordially invited to share your own funny story with us—send it in and I’ll include it in an upcoming blog.

Karen