God Speed, Zig

I read in the paper today that Zig Ziegler died. You may be wondering who Zig is and why I would be writing about such an obscure person. Or maybe you are more savvy than I am, but I had never heard of him. He wrote several books I had never heard of either.

However, without realizing it, I had been coining a phrase attributed to him for years.  I used to tell my students who said they couldn't do something that that was "stinking thinking". I had never thought about where I had picked it up, but that spoke to me and it became kind of my mantra, if you will.

Not that I can say that I always succeeded, but I think that generally speaking I try to apply that phrase to my thinking about life. I think that is why I don't give up an idea or ambition easily or at all. I just know that if I keep at it things will work out just fine.

I figure you might as well go about life with a positive attitude since you have to go that route anyway. 

So why not think about the things you do like about your job, rather than the things that pull you down?  Maybe those downers will have less pull over time.

Those antics of your children that drive you crazy, maybe just being thankful that they actually have the energy and good health that so many other kids don't have, may change how you react in the moment. Kids can be a challenge, but don't you just love watching them sleep?

How about the little things that drive you crazy that your mate does everyday. Focusing on the things that drew you to that person in the first place may help get rid of that "stinking thinking". Bet you will think about those good things if you were alone after he/she is "gone".

Being reminded about "stinking thinking" today gave me pause to reexamine some of my own points of view, too. I don't know how you impacted the lives of others, Zig, but you didn't need to leave me with anything more. God speed, Zig.

Father Like Son?

I did a lot of ruminating when out on my bike ride this morning to Flora City. Not much else to think about while tooling down the trail. It seems that sometimes you can see more clearly through the rear view mirror than when just looking straight ahead. I think that was my perspective this morning, anyway.

I thought about a story of a man and his young son. The dad, in his youth, had been a star basketball player, played football in high school and aspired to become a professional baseball player one day. He dated a pretty, vivacious cheerleader for years. I'm sure he would have been called a jock.

The man married and soon had a son. His dream was to have his son become the athlete he had been, hoping to realize the unfulfilled dreams of his own youth. The dad tried to nurture his fine son into that athlete. He coached his son's baseball team for several years, showing patience towards his son as he worked to find a place for him on the field.  He drilled the lad for hours in the back yard trying to teach him to "keep your eye on the ball", to no avail.

However, hard as he was to try, turning his son into an athlete was not to be. Yet, as the years fell away, he noticed a quite different side of his son, his intellect. The son was very bright and had developed a keen mind while the dad had been focused on this athletic prowess instead.

They began playing chess together, the dad winning at first, but soon the boy developing strategies that surpassed his own. Awards for intellectual pursuits became the norm for the youth instead of baseball trophies.The dad became very proud of his son over the years and never looked back to his early dreams for the boy. The dad realized that not only he, but his son, was much the happier when he let the boy become the man he was intended to be. Himself, not a replica of his dad.

It's interesting how this story can be played back with the roles reversed.

Childhood Ruminations

Last week gave me cause for reflection about my childhood. It seems to me that in my generation growing up, children were more incidental than produced to become the center of the parents' universe.There was never an illusion that the world revolved around me, anyway.

I think we were usually born out of obligation (that's what women were for) and continuing the family name back then. Maybe that was the way it was when my kids were born, too. Parents loved their kids, but didn't orbit around them particularly.

In fact, I didn't know how to "play" with my kids the way parents do today. Maybe that's why I'm enjoying the role of grandparent now.  I know how to play with them and it's fun. I remember a fellow mom in my neighborhood, when my kids were small, who actually got down and played house with her little girl.  It seemed strange and awkward to me. Now I love a tea party with my granddaughter.

 My kids' dad was much better at it than I was. He would take them kite flying and play endless hours of board games with them. He really had a great time at it, too.

 My parents pretty much had their lives and we had ours. I can't speak for other families, though.  Only the one I grew up in. My mom had her bridge clubs and golf and my dad had his obligations to his congregation. We pretty much had our own world, coming together at the end of the day for dinner together and sharing our separate lives around the table at that time.

I recognize that it was a different time then it is today.  Now parents have so much more to worry about and protect their children from. Maybe, we just weren't aware of the perils out there since we didn't have the media warning us all the time to be careful.

When I was growing up in Panama, I would be off somewhere exploring with my friend Jean  most everyday. One day we would be out on Limone Bay in a canoe paddling around where there were frequent barracuda and ray sightings. Or sticking something into a sea anemone or Portuguese man-o-war to see what would happen. Another day we would be climbing around in old war (don't know which) bunkers along the shore or climbing mango trees playing we were Tarzan and Jane. We would argue about who got to be Tarzan.

My parents didn't have a clue what we were up to. I don't know if it ever dawned on them what kind of risks we might be taking. I know it never dawned on me to clue them in. Our worlds just didn't matter to each other that much, I guess.

Anyway, all four us survived, as did all of our friends, to adulthood. I wouldn't trade those memories for anything. Well, maybe a few more that included my parents once in a while. I don't have a lot of those.

Reflections of a grandmother

Tour of the Crystal River Archaeological Indian Mounds Park with son and family during Thanksgiving visit. After a weekend of entertaining the grand kids with kayaking, tennis and seeking out the manatees, not to mention keeping them fed, they left early yesterday morning to return home to Atlanta. Always good to spend time together.

So, once the house was cleaned and we had a chance to catch our collective breath, life is back into its usual routine. We completed our morning runs and have settled down to our respective computers for some much needed updating.

The weekend has caused me to pause and reflect on how times have change. Of course, I do believe that this is a common statement passed down from generations of grandparents. I know my grandparents commented on our upbringing and my parents had a few words to say about how I raised my children, too.

I only know that when our kids were being raised, we only had Dr. Spock to lend a hand and guide us through the predictable stages. After a few months, I abandoned my relationship with the good doctor when it wasn't working to feed my babies on a timed schedule.  I don't know if he could have helped me past the first year or so, since I never referenced him again.

So we pretty much raised them by guess and by gosh, I'm sure making plenty of mistakes along the way.  Yet I don't think they turned out so badly. All four of them are good law abiding citizens, if that counts for anything.

But, they knew who was in charge, I'm sure.  There wasn't any question of who held the power in the house. Alright, so it was me. But, they knew where the line was drawn in the sand and where not to cross it. Even the willful child, she knew.

Maybe that is the difference today. Kids don't respect the line in the sand.  Or maybe it isn't drawn firmly enough to get their attention. I can say one thing, where my grandfather, Pop, was concerned we knew.

Crunch Time!

Yesterday I found myself rambling a bit. Sometimes the mind does that; can't quite organize my thoughts as I want to. So, hopefully, that isn't too distracting and the point comes through.

But, now we're getting down to crunch time.  Time to focus, as the son and family arrive tomorrow for the Thanksgiving weekend.  Michael and I did the mega grocery shopping trip yesterday. Maybe that had something to do with the disorderly thinking I was feeling. I think anyone who has been in the grocery stores in the past few days understands. It's crazy out there! And they say the economy is bad? You couldn't prove it by what I saw.

So the turkey is thawing, the dressing made and ready for stuffing. The menu has been vised and revised, trying to take into consideration the differing pallets and needs of the family. I decided that this year I was going to pull out an old favorite of mine from when I was a kid, tomato aspic salad.  I'll probably be the only one who will eat it, but I'm fixing it any way.

Timing is everything. You don't want to make the pies too early or they'll get soggy. Yet you don't want to wait too long and have the oven tied up when the bird is supposed to be put in. There is a real art to all this timing, which I'm certainly not claiming to be the expert in.

Something always gets forgotten, showing up later in the recesses of the refrigerator. However, I think the kids will help remind me, of their anticipated favorites, anyway. Robert wants lots of cranberries and no pumpkin pie. Apple crisp is his choice of dessert and will need to go into the oven early in the morning so that it is still nice and crisp. There will still be pumpkin pie for the rest of us, though.

Emily likes ham, so of course we have a small one ready to pop into the oven to warm at the last minute. And I think that most of us are in agreement that roasted root vegetables are preferred over yam casserole. There you have the problem with differing oven temperatures for the same time slot. Here's where I covet the double ovens of some kitchens.

The part I look forward to, however, is when we drag out all the leftovers the next day and the next. No more cooking for days!

That's What I think, Anyway

I have to admit that I like to have people think the way I do, too. The reality is it just ain't gonna happen all the time or even part of the time.And that's okay. However, some issues are non negotiable for me, because I don't really see any argument to the contrary on the other side.The only argument I've heard against recycling our waste is that it takes fuel to drive your car to a recycling center, if that is the method at their disposal. I would expect that those same people would find an excuse even if they had curbside single stream recycling at their disposal.

Yet, those same people would never make an argument against taking the same amount of fuel to drive where ever for any other what ever. So, it shoots down their side with the fact that they could just take those recyclables when on the way to where ever other reason they are out and about.

There are points of view that differ from my own that I can respect and would not feel any reason to interfere with.  Politics is one of those. Actually, you might say that I can be a fence sitter at times in that department. I can agree with certain aspects of each argument. For instance, I believe we should take care of the segment of our society that is truly helpless.  Yet, I don't expect to pay for individuals to live off of me when they are quite capable of finding some means of support for themselves. I don't feel that that is a party line argument, either.  Just my opinion.  

No, I really wouldn't want everyone to be clones of my point of view.  I enjoy a good discussion of shared ideas and find it very energizing.  However, I also appreciate the respect of allowing me to think as I choose, just as I would for anyone else. Sure its hard, but I think if we listen we can find a grain of truth in any ones thinking.  Almost, but not in the realm of recycling. For the most part I'll just keep my mouth shut and let respect the rights of others.  Isn't that what this country is about?

The recycling drive goes on without me

Lewistown is having its second monthly plastics recycling drive this morning. In spite of the fact that it is colder than when I was there for the first, I know it is going great. Least I ever think that this project was all about me and what I could accomplish, this is proof to the contrary.  Everyone has stepped up to the plate with more energy and ideas to continue this forward than I could ever find imaginable. I await by my phone, here in Florida,  to hear all the details.  What an incredible bunch of people.  Good hearty, committed, determined people.  I love them all.

Really, it is never all about ourselves.  Yet sometimes we may need a little reminding of the fact. It reminds me of the picture I was trying to take of myself on St. Pete beach one season. When I looked at the picture later, I saw that indeed I had turned the camera the wrong way and taken a picture of the opposite view. Believe me, a much better view than I was aiming for.

The point being that when we turn the focus away from our self and focus on others, some amazing things can happen. The result is, not only a more fulfilled self, but a better outcome in the end.

I have a friend who is writing a letter to her daughter-in-law to tell her how deeply upset she is that she voted for the opposite candidate than she had. She is so consumed with the idea that her daughter-in-law didn't share her opinion that she is willing to jeopardize their relationship over it. I'm sure she will live to regret her decision.  If she would only value the right of her daughter-in-law to express her individual opinion over her own hurt feelings, she would not only gain the respect of her family, but be a better person for it.

Okay, I know it was obviously never about me. Point made.  Yet I still would love to have been apart of what it was about today. Lewistown getting the plastic waste out of the landfill and its the amazing people doing an incredible job. That's what it is all about. I am so grateful for that, too.

Yesterday was National Recycle Day (Nov. 15th)

 

This is the article I wrote for the paper to be published Wednesday.  Since not too many  people saw it, I thought I would put it in my blog for today. Got to get some press out of it.

National Recycle Day 2012

Rosemary Kent

Tomorrow is National Recycle Day.  I don’t think that it gets the attention that Mothers’ Day does, but there has, none the less, been a day set aside for recycling in America.  Actually, I noticed that in Australia an entire week is devoted to recycling.  But a day is a good start.

However, it is just like with Mothers’ Day when the child quips, ”What, I only need to be good to Mom one day a year?”.  Well, it might be a good place to start if you haven’t been treating her very well in the past.  Likewise, if you haven’t given much thought about how you treat the waste you throw in the trash that ends in the landfills; maybe National Recycle Day is a good place to start.

In the AARP Magazine for November there was a short interview with the actor, Jeremy Irons, regarding recycling. He wanted to know why more isn’t being done to encourage the plastics industry to convert to products that are truly biodegradable.  My question is how much conversation is there about using the plastic waste we have to turn into new products rather than using raw materials?

Did you know that in America, only one in five plastic water bottles is recycled?  Did you also know that we actually import from Canada recycled plastic to make new products?  There seems to be some kind of a conundrum here.  We don’t have enough of our own waste that we have to import it?  No, I think the problem lies in not doing a better job of recycling the waste we make.

Just as there are sons and daughters who treat their mother very well, there are people who take recycling very seriously and do a great job.  They realize that taking a moment to save up their newspapers, aluminum cans and plastic is time well spent.  They know that doing a little reconnaissance to find what recycling programs are available in the community and what they take is worthwhile information to acquire. They know that what they personally do to help increase the amount of our waste that is recycled really does make a difference.

So for those who are already recycling, well done!  But, don’t stop there.  Introduce a friend or relative to recycling, too.  Spread the word.  Let’s multiple our efforts and challenge ourselves to become a country that can produce enough of our own recycled waste to keep industries in materials without depleting our natural resources and building more landfills . Wouldn’t it be great if we treated our environment with respect all year and every year for ever?  Just like our Moms.

Manatee Springs State Park along the Swanee River

Our camp set up. We had to eat our dinner by 5:00 pm in order to have enough light to finish cleaning up. It was a real relief to have cots to sleep on for the first time in our new big stand up tent. Nothing beats being able to stand up to put on your pants. Down side of camping in Florida in the winter is it gets dark so early, you are in bed by 6:30 pm with nothing else you can do. Don't want to be out with the critters much. A long night stretches ahead even when you read with a light until 8.

Interesting cabbage palms everywhere, along with the red and live oaks and amazing cypress trees. We hiked along a trail named Sinks for all the sink holes around there. Scuba divers enter into long channels through the natural springs to explore them.  Personally, I'll leave that bit of adventure to them. It is easy to in vision the early tribes of Indians living in this area, as the fauna looks just about the same as it did then.

We paddled up the Swanee quite a ways looking for gators, but didn't see a one.  We were told, however, that if you come in the dark and shine a light you would see lots of red eyes looking back at you along the banks. I figured they had a pretty good view of us, anyway, as we paddled along the shoreline.

The area we entered the water, called Manatee Springs, takes you out to the Swanee River. The manatees have begun coming into this area now that the weather is colder. We were paddling around one big guy who lazed under us. They are amazing creatures; so huge, yet so docile and defenseless. You could see where propellers had made their marks on his back. Florida is becoming serious about protecting them the best they can.

Hundreds of turkey buzzards were lurking down at us as we paddled by. Felt like Hitchcock's "The Birds". We were wondering how there could be that much around for them to feed on.

The boardwalk that takes you along the springs out to the Swanee River with Michael stopping for a shot. The view is incredible! So peaceful.  The real old Florida we love.

Got to say though, coming home to your own convenient kitchen and bathroom really makes you appreciate coming home!

Swanee, How I love ya!

We're going camping for a couple of nights up on the mouth of the Swanee River. That river has always held a romantic image in my mind, so time to explore it.  We're taking our kayaks so hope to see some gators and/or manatees on the river. We've never been to this state park before so hope it has decent amenities. Yes, we go where there are at least toilets and hopefully showers. That's as roughing it as we get.

In fact, we are going to try out our new big, stand up in tent and cots for the first time, too.  I refuse to sleep on the ground anymore, at least if I don't absolutely have to. Not that I can't, but when I look around and see all these people in their cosy campers around me, it can be a little hard to convince myself that I really need to come crawling out of our tent each morning on my hands and knees. After all, there shoiuld be limits for how much 71 year olds have to endure.

Hopefully, I 'll have some good pics to share with you when we get back. I'll let you know how improved the experience was and whether this is going to be something I'll put on my to do list again soon or not. After buying all this gear, I sure hope its the former.

Struggles

I pray every day for our soldiers who come home from war struggling with their wounds and disabilities. Wounds that they never envisioned they would be the ones incurring. Yet, the results of which they are left to struggle with for the rest of their life. I thank them for their sacrifice.  We need to take a moment to remember them. 

Now, in no way do I equate my struggles to get up the hill on my morning runs or the aching pains I suffer from too vigorous a work out.  But, it makes me think about those who don't have a choice about living with their pain every moment of everyday. It makes anything I might self inflict seem an embarrassment in comparison.

I was listening to NPR while inflicting more pain on myself this morning. They were talking about the differences between how American kids today approach difficulties in learning versus Asian kids. American kids are encouraged to focus on how being smart helped them solve a math problem, for instance. If it was too difficult, in a few minutes they were inclined to say,"I haven't had that yet". However, the Asian kids were encouraged to struggle through a hard problem, told that it is in the struggle and figuring it out that was the key to successfully solving it. They struggled through it until the alloted time was up.

I agree, that struggles can help build character and make us stronger and more likely to persevere to a better outcome. Most of us don't welcome struggles.  The survivors of Hurricane Sandy certainly didn't welcome what they have had to endure. Yet, they can come out on the other side better for what they have had to come through. That remains their choice.

Our wounded soldiers, who struggle daily with challenges I can't begin to imagine, are remarkable. I read story after story about how they feel that their struggle has made them better than they were before. How they have no regrets, in spite of how the outcome has drastically altered their life forever.

My hats off to all of those who suffered in the past and those who suffer yet today. My prayers, too.  That's the least I can do to show them how much I appreciate their struggles.

Yoga

I got my new Prevention magazine the other day.  It has a section on yoga, so yesterday I decided to try it again.  My sister, Anne, swears by it and I have always known she was right.

Wow!  I didn't realize how out of shape I am! Just because I run four miles about five days a week I guess I thought it would be no big deal to polish off these moves. Huh!

Of course, along with flexibility, balance is key to graceful yoga stances. I fouind out that I am sorely lacking in both, it would seem by yoga standards anyway.  So I started out yesterday doing only one or two of each position described.  Either I wasn't doing them right or I don't have the what ever to  look like the gal in the magazine showing the technique.

This morning I tried again, and believe it or not, after just one day's effort, I was greatly improved. The postions didn't feel quite as awkward as yesterday.  That's encouraging. Now to keep it up everyday until I begin to feel the ease and grace in my body while in each position.

I think that is like life.  You have to build flexibility.  I'm not ascribing to giving up on your ideals and principles.  I'm just saying that with alittle flexibility in our thinking we may be able to see where the other guy is coming from.  Not to say you have to, with open arms, embrace those views, but a little balance can bridge a wide gulf in how well you can achieve a compromise with each other and make some progress.

Once you begin to practice a little flexibility and balance it begins to feel pretty good.  Of course there may be a little soreness to overcome at first.  But, one will find that life can be a lot more satisfying when one is able to more comfortably touch one's toes. Or touch others with your flexiblity in compromise.  What a difference a little flexibility and balance can make!

Super Plastics Woman to the rescue!

Picture is necessary to help explain what kind of plastics woman I am,( not the artificial kind with all the plastic surgery or the kind that is a big shopper either). Just plain old plastics waste kind of woman.

So we helped out at the church this morning for the monthly cleanup day.  They always begin with breakfast for those who turn out to work.  I was able to persuade Michael with the hopeful promise of biscuits and gravy.  They came through for him and he worked hard to earn it, too.

I stayed in the kitchen to do the cleanup and free hands for outside labor. As I was finishing up, I noticed all of these juice jugs (#2 HDPE)and plastic clam shells (#1Pete) in the trash can. Now we're not talking about Lewistown, Montana where the opportunities for recycling your plastics waste has been a challenge and a new educational experience until this fall. 

We're talking Florida, where I tell the people up north about. I tell the new recyclers during my plastics recycling talks about how in Florida they have such an easy time of recycling with the "single stream" concept available to them.  Dump it all into one bin. No thinking about whether this can go or that.  Just dump it all in together.  No excuses in Florida not to recycle.  Everyone wants your waste here.

So, in my amazed state, I ask," Don't you recycle your plastic?" And the ladies, who work in the kitchen regularly and set the standard, said, "Oh, no. We have no where to store it." Wait a minute.  That may be a legitimate excuse up north where we only offer once a month drive. But that certainly doesn't hold up here.

So I said, "I have no problem with that.  I'll just take it home with me and put in my recycling bin". I don't know if they got the implication, but,duh, is that so hard to figure out?

Which super hero is it that, when he finishes rescuing one damsel from distress, says something like,"My work is never done"?  Or is that a mother?

Beauty is the eyes of

Trip to Roswell, NM on way down to Florida.  A must see by Michael. Now we can say,"Been there, done that, got the t shirts for the grandkids.

So, looking at these creatures makes one pause to think about what one considers "normal" or the accepted idea of that is beauty.  Now in this world most of us would say that in the top picture those are pretty strange looking guys(or maybe gals, who knows).  However, in the second picture they may look at that and wonder what strange being that was standing next to their good looking stud.

Same way we look at truth. It doesn't make any one "truth" anymore right.  It just varies from point of view and who you ask. We think that we are the more moral or ethical and our standard is the truth. Yet, when looked at from an others point of view we come across as the evil ones.

Take, for example, the Crusaders who massacred in the name of Christianity. A miscarriage of Christ's message. Isn't it as true with the extremists in the Islamic world? They are mostly very good God fearing in the true sense of Islam. Yet, there again are those who take the message and shape it to meet their ideals of truth. Both distortions for their own aggrandizing, causing them to become blinded by their own extreme ideals.

Well, I'm ready for the aliens from space. I'm not judging them or telling them they're all wrong. Heck, those guys may just start looking pretty good after a while.

Compromise

Having friends over for dinner tonight so need to get busy with the bread maker and baking Michael's sugar cream pie.  Guess that's me compromising, as it certainly wouldn't be my choice of dessert.  Of course, a healthier fruit compote will also be offered.

I  have been thinking. Can you just imagine what we could, as a nation, have accomplished with all that money that was spent on the political campaigns? Here's my idea. Everyone who wants to contribute to a political campaign would just say,"I'm giving this million dollars or what ever to this cause, such as cancer research, in the name of (fill in the blank) to show my support for both."

Can't you just imagine the benefit to society that would do? You would get to support your candidate while finding a cure for some disease or other. So, of course this is just wishful thinking.  It would never happen.  People would rather discredit their opponent's character or throw their money at who they think represents their ideal of how the country should be run.  and what do they have to show for it when all is said and done? Oh, I know, a tax deduction.

Hey, maybe if they could get a double tax deduction, not only for contributing their name to the candidate, but to the good cause.  Maybe that would make the system change. Okay, I'm only dreaming.  But it does give pause to think about all that money wasted.

Now I need to go put my mind to better use by figuring out how to work that new bread machine and and baking that (shiver) pie,  Just the thought of all that sugar, cream and butter makes me cringe. What one doesn't do in the name of compromise.  Hey, if I can do that then maybe there is hope for our congress.

Whew! That's over!

I think that the one thing we can all agree about is that we're glad it's over.  No more back stabbing, mud slinging and no more unwelcome phone calls telling us how to vote. It's over for four more years. 

It's interesting how we all have our own perception of "truth". Sometimes it is as simple as who got to us first.  Other times there are deep seated reasons for what we believe: family history, what we have experienced during our life, even our personality type or work experience. It all plays a part in shaping what we perceive as truth.

I am reminded of the Non-Sequester cartoon I saw the other day with the two men coming around the corner ready to crash into each other, each carrying their sign declaring their truth. That's what happens, we collide into each other with our ideals about what is really the truth. When we collide we can't even begin to hear what the other person has to say.

We can only see that if I'm right then he has to be wrong.  Isn't it just possible that there is some truth in each person's view and that by being open to the other side we may come closer to the "real truth"?

Sometimes, we are so eager to find fault with the opposite view and see them as the "evil element" that I think what happens is we have our eye balls in backwards and are seeing our own badness instead. We do that, you know.

 Watch yourself next time you find fault with someone. What it is you dislike about that person: narrow mindedness? shallowness? gullablity?  Is that some of you you are seeing, maybe?

My only wish for the next four years is that we have learned something from our past closed mindedness and saw where it didn't get us and try a different approach.  Listen, really listen to the other person and we might really hear what he/she is saying. That's all I'm saying.

Not so old!

Cooling off the old tootsies after a day of backpacking into the Pintler Mountains of Western Montana last summer.  Aaah!! This made it all worth it.

I got my hair cut yesterday.  Actually, I had it styled.  I know because it cost twice as much. The hairdresser's dad died recently and she and her mom are still grieving.  She said her mom feels like life is over, now that he is gone. I asked her how old her mom was and she said 71.  Seventy-one? Heck that's how old I am, and I don't feel my life is over by a long shot! I told her her to tell her mom that she has a lot of good living left in her.

At seventy-one, maybe I don't feel like biking 50 miles a day along the Rhine(not that I couldn't) but I still look forward to staying at a B&B in Italy along the Mediterranean and taking in the view. I may not have a marathon in me(never did), but I can still get up for a four miler once in a while. I may not be into dancing under the stars until two in the morning, but Michael isn't into dancing anyway.

My "girls" may have a life of their own, but they can still be restrained reasonably well. I may look like I've spent the past seven decades out basking in the sun, but can still fix up well enough to trick the cameras once in a while. I may not be as flexible physically anymore, but I can still get down to scrub my floors by hand (and get back up) okay.

Anyway, she can still find some good years in herself and make a contribution to her world. She doesn't need to save the entire world, but she can still make her own corner of it a little better place to be. She can find a cause that needs her and put her stamp on it and feel some satisfaction in a job well done.

The world is out there just waiting for her to step out into it and enjoy. Even at seventy-one.