May 01
Yesterday, NASA’s Messenger space probe slammed into the surface of Mercury at upwards of 8,000 mph. This is its parting message: an image of the planet’s surface captured shortly before it struck down.
May 01
Researchers from the University of California, LA also known as UCLA have developed a new device that is able to turn any ,a href=”http://www.slashgear.com/tags/smartphone/”>smartphone into a DNA scanning fluorescent microscope. This microscope allows a smartphone to image DNA, which is about 50,000 times thinner than a single human hair. Typically very bulky and expensive optical microscopy tools are needed to … Continue reading
May 01
Although WiGig wireless technology is still not as ubiquitous as Intel would hope it to be, Dell is already outing its second wireless dock utilizing WiGig’s promise of high speed data transfer without the tangle of cords. The new Dell Wireless Dock, model name 452-BBUX, makes the same promise as its older but less capable sibling from 2 years back, … Continue reading
May 01
MacBook users often wish that their notebook had more USB ports since all you get is a single USB port on some Apple machines. A new device has debuted called the HydraDock that aims to give you lots more ports, including USB ports for connecting any accessory you can think of from displays to keyboards. The HydraDock adds 11 different … Continue reading
May 01
When the Star Wars saga finally became available to buy on digital storefronts like iTunes and Google Play, we hoped it would only be a matter of time until Disney and Fox made them available to stream. Thankfully, that’s now about to happen, after S…
May 01
It turns out that support for bigger external hard drives isn’t all that the latest Xbox 360 preview’s packing. The surprise features aren’t huge by any means but they’re pretty self explanatory and as of now should make using the console a bit easie…
May 01
Chinese firm Huawei is no stranger to the UK. Unbeknownst to many, it’s an important provider of cellular infrastructure, and just a couple of weeks ago, it held its new flagship smartphone launch in London. Over the years, some of Huawei’s top hands…
May 01
I think I’m getting ruminative in my menopausal fugue — solidly on the other side of divorce, career reinvention, and starting over in a new place with a new love. I have almost all new friends now, at 51. The ones I spent so many years with — bound together by our children’s friendships and lots of school potlucks — scattered like dandelion seeds to the wind when my first marriage ended. Only Ebola instills more fear of contagion than the divorce of a friend whose marriage seemed perfect.
That’s in the past now. My present and future friendships must have different foundations, ones that are built upon who we are together, not what we do together. It can’t be about raising kids anymore — the kids have fledged, and I don’t even know why I left friendship to convenience the way I did back then, except that perhaps in those crazy years of early motherhood and full-time work, I appreciated easy comforts.
I don’t need a lot of friends, but I need a few who have genuine personal depth and will let me see it. My patience for shallowness is drying up faster than the Sacramento River. Like most introverts, I don’t suffer small talk lightly, but I can do it. There’s a dial on my chest that I turn on when I need to, and chit-chat away. Then, I turn it off when I don’t need it anymore, and do the things that nourish my soul. When I find someone who understands me, it’s something I really notice. When I give that understanding to someone else, if they notice it too, that’s like the gravy I grew up eating on biscuits and chicken fried steak down south, and let me tell you, that is some really good gravy.
I’ve had a lot of personal and professional loss lately and with each successive setback, my resilience for the next one has eroded. It’s an emotional pyramid scheme in collapse. But I know who my true friends are, and I’m not sure I could have said that 10 years ago. Situational friendships didn’t make us kindred spirits, and the closest thing I had to that were work colleagues, truth be told.
Working in the same school, we at least shared a passion for education and a penchant for intellectual conversation about things that really mattered because we were, after all, providing stewardship for the next generation. My colleagues were paying close attention not only to what was happening on our campus, but to the world outside our campus and our town — the world our students would one day enter. The friendships were diverse and not based on being the same age or having kids the same age. I discovered the benefits of having friends who were much older or much younger than me, and I enjoyed being friends with people from all kinds of backgrounds — something that would not otherwise have fallen into my lap. When I left that job and moved away, I realized what I’d lost. The circumstances of my leaving were painful and made maintaining my friendships complicated, and I basically failed at overcoming that.
About a month ago, my beloved 15-year-old cat named Fog died, and it happened soon after one of my closest friends, Michele, lost two dogs in a short period of time. Long after the “acceptable” mourning period had expired, we were both still devastated. Devastated. My husband has been exquisitely supportive, as he always is, but I didn’t want to tell him every single time I saw Fog in a sunbeam or found myself suddenly choked up in the middle of a workday thinking about her. Whether he did or did not, I assumed he needed a break from me during some of these moments, and I could call Michele, a thousand miles away in Georgia, and say I was having a hard time. A few days ago I got a Facebook private message from her that said simply: “I am aching today for my babies. For Hendrix and Sula. Still hurts. I am holding back tears. Just had to tell someone.” Being that someone is everything.
Sometimes I have to look a little hard to find the things I like about this stage of life. It requires a few recitations of the Serenity Prayer per week, because there’s something about rounding the corner past 50 that is like a road sign asking you to get in the right lane, and it is shocking to the core. Even so, I feel so firmly grounded in who I am now. Perhaps there are many roads that lead to this place, but age and wisdom are a common one, and I love this about being in my 50s. It’s a no-bullshit phase of life. I say what I mean and mean what I say, and my friends who have truly left high school behind them are on this journey with me.
I’d like to form a few more lasting friendships around shared world views. I can’t develop friendships around shopping or discussions about where the hip restaurants are or who gives a great manicure. Hell, I’ve never even had a manicure. Not that I judge people who do! I just personally prefer talking about thousands of other things besides that. The horizon of what remains of my life is broad and deep and timeless, because whether I leave this world today or next year or when I’m 90, I’ve got to make the most of it while it lasts.
My best friend is my husband, and I mean that like I mean it when I say that I want to swim with the manatees. Anyone who knows me knows that no one wants to swim with the manatees more than I do. I can even tell my husband how much I want to swim with the manatees and he’ll say, “Let’s do it!” But then I’ll say, “No. Have you seen all those jerks who are doing it? The poor things are being petted to within an inch of their lives and people are straddling them. I can’t be part of that problem.” And he’ll laugh because he knows exactly what I’m talking about, and also that it’s about more than manatees. Not being part of the problem is a defining raison d’être for us both.
Friendship is something I obviously think a lot about these days. I really never used to. When I was younger I collected friends effortlessly, just by being a mom and working in schools and being drafted onto nonprofit boards, as if my expertise were sincerely wanted. Now that I’m an older self-employed empty nester in a new town, finding friendship is an utterly deliberate act, and one that seems to require more creativity and risk taking, not to mention less introversion.
That last bit is the toughest, but I do love a challenge.
Lori Day is an educational psychologist, consultant and parenting coach with Lori Day Consulting in Newburyport, MA. She is the author of Her Next Chapter: How Mother-Daughter Book Clubs Can Help Girls Navigate Malicious Media, Risky Relationships, Girl Gossip, and So Much More, and speaks on the topic of raising confident girls in today’s marketing and media culture. You can connect with Lori on Facebook, Twitter, or Pinterest.
Earlier on Huff/Post50:
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May 01
People think your soul mate is your perfect fit. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.
— Elizabeth Gilbert.
Very soon, our daughter will be married. In my life, I have attended only a handful of weddings where I was certain it would last. This will be one of them.
And yet, since we reached the halfway point in the planning, I’ve found myself wishing to offer some parting gift of wisdom. Not the birds and bees talk of yesteryear, of course.
More of a nests and hives talk.
An argument has evolved between my mother-self which wants to share wisdom the minute I earn it, and my better judgment, which knows that unsolicited advice is tolerated more than it is followed. People in love blaze their own path, thank you very much.
And, adds my better judgment:
We customize our marriages. We rise and fall and stumble and glide through them, trading our coins of love and promise to create a new whole that won’t leave anyone’s unique self out.
After nearly three decades, we’ve had our wins and fails and I could offer as many don’ts as do’s. Maybe more, unless you ask my husband, who claims not to remember the “don’ts” because he is very good at marriage.
And, in a discussion of “what marriage is and isn’t”, is it better to caution against the things that are sure to damage a marriage? Or share the discoveries which made you understand that marriage is not just something you have in common with your spouse, but a place where you feel more honored, accepted, understood and loved than anyplace else?
And, as I consider offering any advice at all, should I consider how much difference do’s and don’ts advice made in my own life, which was none?
And, yet, says my mother self:
In three days, I will watch my daughter walk into the arms of her man. Knowledge is for offering, like fine food that you’ve prepared with your own hands. You put it out there, and whoever is hungry can eat. And so, from the turned down pages of my own manual I offer the 10 things about marriage I consider most worth mentioning.
Be who you are. You came to the relationship as whole people, with identities and a purpose in life. Feel complete in your relationship, share your happiness, look forward to everything you’ll do together, feel better about everything when he walks in the room, and miss him when he’s gone. But honor your individuality. He loves things about you that you’re not even aware of.
Know your marriage. As you know yourself, know your marriage — why you love each other, what you need, what you have learned to give and take — and realize that very, very little of this is visible to others. When people tell you when to buy a house, or when to have children, or why your marriage should be like theirs, remember how much information they are really working with, which is practically none.
We love differently. People can love each other equally and show it very differently. Women of words can be married to men of action if each knows they are loved the best way possible by the other and wish to stay that way.
Talk. Tiny amounts of honest communication — all the time — even when you’re not together will keep you in sight of each other. Absent or lazy communication — all the time — even when you’re in close proximity to each other is worse than silence.
Listen. Learn to listen as much as you wish to be heard. You do this now, but life will get noisy. There will be distractions. Listening is not just making eye contact and waiting for the other person to stop talking so you can tend to something else. That’s just hearing.
Show your belly. There are plenty of times when you should play your cards right, not give yourself away, not expose your belly. But in a marriage is not where to do that. Show who you are. If it’s hard to do that sometimes, you’re doing it right.
Bring it up. Even if you are sure what is in his heart, never think you know what’s in his mind. Don’t let something go just to avoid “clashing.” Give each other a chance to be understanding and allow yourself to be surprised.
Use Humor. When stuff seizes your attention that won’t matter in a year from now, do your best to treat it with humor. Humor heals, humor binds, humor relieves everything in the world and makes life easier. It also improves your facial expression.
Ask. When you do get upset with each other, start conversations with these words: “I’m having trouble with something but I think you can help.” It’s amazing how responsive people can be when they are invited to help you, rather than defend themselves.
And…
The most important thing, what will keep you attuned, what may assure you live within the hearts of each other, as well as in the same house, is this:
If it’s happy, if it’s loving, if you mean it…
Say it.
You make me happy.
I appreciate you.
I love you.
I’m glad I married you.
And then, in almost three decades from now, when you are about to watch your grown child walk into the arms of love, do what I plan to.
Turn to your own love and say:
I would do it again.
Earlier on Huff/Post50:
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May 01
When I was in high school my friends and I were in and out of each other’s homes several times a week. At the time I’m sure we thought our mothers were old. They weren’t, but when you are young anyone over 30 seems ancient. Of that particular group of friends only two of them still have their mothers. Four of us lost our moms to cancer and my mother was the first to go. This year she has been gone 25 years. She was 51 at the time of her death, seven years younger than I am now.
In the 25 years since her death, the pain of losing her has diminished somewhat, but nothing can replace the ache in my heart that her death created. I didn’t just lose my mother, I lost my best friend.
Just as we don’t get to choose how we die, we can’t predict how we will be remembered. I don’t know if my mother would be surprised or not by what I remember about her, but I think most of it would please her and the rest of it she would laugh about.
5 Things My Mother Loved
1.Gardening. So many of my memories of her involve plants and the growing process. She loved flowers and our house was surrounded by Petunias, Gardenias, Iris and Roses. She had a green thumb when it came to plants and every summer she and my grandmother would raise a vegetable garden together. At the end of the summer they would tackle the messy endeavor of putting up corn. I can still see her in the kitchen, getting the corn off the cob with something that resembled a cheese grater. She ran the corn over it and it sliced it off and fell in the pan. There would be corn all over her, the cabinets, the kitchen window and even on her glasses. Corn is sticky and cleaning it up wasn’t easy. But every year without fail we put up corn until the freezer was full because she knew we all loved it.
2. Books. She loved to read and once my brother and I were old enough to go to school, mom went to college. Mom and dad married when she was only 16 (he was 26) and I was born the next year. Three years later my brother came along. It was hard for her to raise us while going to college and she never failed to stress the importance of an education to me and my brother. After she finally got her degree she became a teacher and eventually she became the sixth grade reading teacher. It was her dream job. Over the years many of her students have contacted me to tell me how much she meant to them and what a good teacher she was. Every year at the close of the school year she hosted a party for her classroom at our home. Many of her students have told me it was one of their most cherished childhood memories.
3. Traveling. Mom loved to travel and always wanted my brother and I to soak up as much “culture” as we could. Probably the trip that made the biggest impression on me was the time she and two of her friends went to New York and mom invited me to tag along. I was about 19 and other than beach vacations I hadn’t traveled very much or very far from our home in Kentucky. Neither her nor her friends had ever been to New York either and every place we went was an adventure, even getting there. We took a cab from the airport to our hotel and what an experience that was! I rode up front and mom and her friends were in the back seat. I watched their faces during the whole ride. Their eyes were as big as golf balls and they were holding onto each other for dear life as the cabbie switched lanes, honked, swerved and yelled curses at other drivers. The hotel where we stayed overlooked Central Park and we ate lunch at Tavern on the Green, took a carriage ride through the park and did a few other touristy things. What I remember most about the trip (other than the cab ride) was the night we went to a supper club for dinner. Before I go any further with this particular memory you need to know that we are from a very small rural town that has a church on every corner. The town was so small there wasn’t a stop light or a fast food restaurant. To say we were sheltered would be an understatement. Anyway, i don’t remember what we had to eat but I do remember what our entertainment was; topless ladies doing a provocative dance. I thought my mother and her friends were going to have heart attacks. I was shocked too but one of my duties as a teenager (so I thought) was to always act cool. So I acted like it was no big deal and laughed myself silly at my mother’s horrified expressions.
4. Food. Not only did mom love to eat, she loved to cook and she was even better at that than she was gardening. Anyone who ever ate at our house (including all my friends and my brothers) always raved about her cooking. She never ever made anything from a mix. Never. Every night the table was laden with a meat, vegetables and home made biscuits. Cakes. Pies. Cookies. It was all wonderful. I still have all of her recipes and from time to time I get them out and read them even though I know most of them by heart. Her kitchen always smelled delicious and she always had extra food for anyone who dropped in, no matter what time of the day it was. She was queen of the kitchen and although my grandmother and aunts were all good cooks, none of them could hold a candle to mom.
5. Family. One of the hardest things about loosing someone you love who is so close to you is that every baby that is born, every holiday, every wedding, every birthday and graduation that occurs after their death, reminds you that they aren’t with you. My mother didn’t live to see my twins born or any of my brother’s children. I hate it because I know how much she would have loved them and I hate it because the only way they will ever know her is through pictures and stories of the past. One of the most poignant moments of her illness happened one night when our second son was about two and a half years old. Justin, our son, was crying and fussy. It was bedtime and he needed to go to sleep. Mom was there and ask if she could rock him. By that time she was weak but still able to do a few things. She took him in the bedroom and I could hear her singing softly to him. I waited a few minutes until all was quiet and went to check on them. I knew she couldn’t lift him into his bed so I was going to take him from her and put him to bed but when I got there she motioned for me to leave them alone. They were sitting in the semi-darkness and I could see she was crying. I backed out of the room and tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in my throat. She wasn’t just rocking him to sleep, she was saying goodbye to him. It’s one of those scenes that stays frozen in your mind for as long as you live.
The Last Goodbye
None of us knows how we would react to being told we had a year left to live but typical of my mom, she taught me just as much if not more during the last year of her life as she did when I was a child. She didn’t complain or rage against the fates. She relied heavily on her faith, took things one day at a time and fought with everything she had, unfortunately it wasn’t enough. One of the last things she said to us before the ambulance came and took her to the hospital was, “I tried so hard” and she had. Even after she arrived at the hospital and she could no longer speak she continued to fight for every breath all the way up to the very end. I had never seen anyone die before and I didn’t know what to do or how to act. I was an emotional wreck and terrified of what was happening. Watching her struggle for one breath after another was surreal and I felt frozen with fear. I prayed and prayed harder. Then it suddenly came to me that she wasn’t fighting for herself, she was fighting to stay with us. I couldn’t let her do that. I walked over to my mother’s bedside, leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I know you have fought hard, mom,” I said, “but it’s okay. You don’t have to fight anymore. We are going to be alright. Try to imagine big fluffy white clouds floating on a bright blue sky, pick out one and become that cloud. Just relax and float away.” Within a few minutes her blood pressure dropped and she was gone, or as I prefer to think, she floated away.
25 Years Later
The grandchildren she never got to see, as well as the ones she did get a chance to spoil, are now grown. My two oldest children have children and my brother’s oldest son is engaged to be married. There have been countless events that I have attended that I would have given anything if she had been there with me. But that’s the thing about being a person who loves so much and so passionately, she may not have been there in body but her spirit was with me and that ache in my heart just reminds me she’s there.
Earlier on Huff/Post50:
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