Guest Bloggers – Page 18 – Disney Leadership Keynote Speaker

Guest Blogger Lorie Sheffer: In the eye of the beholder

Field of Pennsylvania wildflowers — In the eye of the beholder (photo: Lorie Sheffer)

If weeds were a cash crop, I’d be a millionaire. Along with the gorgeous days of spring, filled with blooming bulbs and flowering trees, comes the chore of weeding. It seems every home has a pile of mulch in the driveway, ready to be hauled around by the wheelbarrow full. Heat wraps, Ben Gay and Aleeve are flying off drugstore shelves, scooped up by weekend gardeners with low back spasms.

Just a few days ago, as I was admiring the planned and planted blooms in my back yard, I was also cursing the dreaded weeds that had come in to join them, uninvited. Wild mustard, with its bright yellow blooms, stands tall over unidentifiable purple blossoms, and beneath them all there is a groundcover of chickweed. Unable to face the chore ahead of me, I decided to get some pictures off of the camera card my brother had dropped off for me. He said there were some shots of the pretty wild flowers in the orchard behind our parent’s house. I loved picking flowers in the orchard when I was a child, gathering up big bunches and sticking them in jars and glasses all over the house.

The fruit trees are old and many of them no longer bloom. But the ‘wild flowers’ are still there. I had to smile when I saw the pictures of them. I suppose it’s all about perspective. I am now quite sure that when I was a little girl, I would think of my current back yard as a flower filled wonderland.

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Guest Blogger Lorie Sheffer: The “kid’s” stuff

Old toys and children's things — The “kid’s” stuff (photo: Lorie Sheffer)

For any of you mid-lifers out there who still have kids at home or in college, let me clue you in on a secret. They never come get their “stuff”. If it’s in your basement now, it will always be in your basement. If it’s stuffed in a closet, there it shall remain.

Our basement flooded last year. I frantically ran down the steps and toward a stand mixer box that was sitting in four inches of water. I ended up throwing it over my head and into the water behind me, not realizing the box was empty. Yes, my son had stored empty boxes that I thought were filled. There are also full cartons, bags and items sitting out in the open. A megaphone from my daughter’s high school cheerleading days sits in the corner. She is going to be 34 years old in June. There’s a Big Wheel down there, along with a rusty tricycle. There are cartons and cartons of now obsolete college textbooks.

Last year I suggested to my husband that we have quite a bit of storage potential in the basement for seasonal things like pool supplies and deck furniture. It was going to be his project to clean and organize the space. He got part of it done and then gave up. Where to go with it all?

I read a Dear Abby column in which a young woman told of her and her 5 siblings going home for Christmas. They were concerned that their retired parents had gone overboard on the obscene number of gifts under the tree. On Christmas morning they began unwrapping and howled with laughter when they realized their parents had gift-wrapped all of the things the kids had left behind as they moved into adulthood.

My kids don’t want me to throw things away, and I refuse to store them for another decade. Our solution is a yard sale. Cash is such a wonderful incentive. This morning as I was getting ready to start yet another day of pricing, a knock came to my door. It was a neighbor telling me that she and three other families on the next street are having yard sales this weekend, too. They are trying to unload their kid’s hoard.

Guest blogger Lorie Sheffer: Simple Solutions

Child's bedroom converted to vintage sitting room — Time for tea surrounded by vintage treasures (photo: Lorie Sheffer)

One day my friend, who happens to be a psychiatrist, and I were discussing stresses in everyday life. He shared with me that on more than one occasion he has heard the complaint how every time we turn on the television, we are bombarded with bad news and horrible images. His suggestion? “Turn off the television.” For only $175 an hour, that is some pretty simple advice. Why, then, can we not seem to figure out the obvious? Why do we feel increasingly unable to disengage?

I absolutely feel it is necessary to educate ourselves as to what is happening in the world around us and to form our own opinions and views based upon facts and not hearsay. With the information we all have at our disposal, it is inexcusable not to do so. But where do we draw the line? At what point do we stop and realize that we have the story and all we are doing is bombarding our emotions with the details? If we can in some way help, then we need to continue gathering information. If simply drawn to events in some strange voyeuristic way, then maybe it would be best to take a break. At the very least, we may need to step back and take a breath.

Ridiculous as it may sound, afternoon tea is a wonderful way to refresh our mind and recharge our soul. It’s quite different from guzzling a grande coffee with a triple shot of espresso from a paper cup. It’s totally unlike sipping from a stained old mug, tea bag tag hanging from the side. What I’m talking about is brewing a pot of real tea and then drinking it from an old vintage cup or at the very least a clean, unstained mug. Savoring it with a small sweet treat only adds to the joy of it. If the weather is hot, iced tea or lemonade, not the instant kind but the fresh made variety, seems almost decadent when it’s sipped from a tall frosty glass. Sit by a window and watch the snow fall, or the birds fly or the rain splash on the pane…… but sit and look outside, away from the television, computer and iPad. In the good old days, this was known as break. It was thought to help relieve stress, give some fresh perspective and allow us to mentally escape for a few moments. And the last time I checked an afternoon break cost quite a bit less than $175 an hour.

Guest Blogger Lorie Sheffer: Changes

Addy Sea was built in 1902 (photo: Lorie Sheffer)

When I was younger, I wondered why “old people” sometimes seem so resistant to change.

I have not been to my favorite beach town in 6 years. So much has happened in my life since the last time I was there. We lost 5 family members ranging in age from 2 to 85 years old. Two have struggled with and recovered from prolonged, life threatening illness. Two jobs were lost, one of which has been replaced and one of which has officially become “retirement”. I’ve attended weddings and college graduations, a medical school graduation and watched as my now 5’10” tall grandson has entered middle school. Six years filled with much tragedy, much happiness, but most of all, tremendous change.

My husband surprised me with a trip to our favorite oceanfront bed and breakfast, in part to celebrate our 30^th wedding anniversary and in part because we so desperately need a reprieve. Aside from a few new bed linens and reupholstered antique chairs, it looks exactly like it did the last time we stayed there. The beach and boardwalk, however, are barely recognizable. “Updates”, have been made. “Improvements” to the quaint town have resulted in torn down iconic buildings and a dune that protects from erosion while totally obscuring the view of the beach from the boardwalk. Even the bridge which spans the inlet to the north of the town, that landmark that used to induce squeals of “We’re here!” from the back seat of the car, has been replaced with a new and improved suspension bridge.

They can’t change the ocean herself. The ocean is such a wonderful, comforting constant. When John Addy built the lovely Addy Sea back in 1902, as a summer home for his Pittsburgh family, the ocean looked the same. The Addy Sea looked much the same as she does now, as well. She’s been lovingly restored and updates have been made, but her soul remains the same, a grand Victorian lady. As I enjoyed afternoon tea by the marble fireplace, the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, I finally understood why “old people” are sometimes resistant to change.

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Guest Blogger Lorie Sheffer: Splash!

I’ll admit it; I was bored. I was channel surfing and stopped when I saw one of my all-time favorite athletes, Olympic champion diver Greg Louganis. What was he doing pushing someone who looked like Louie Anderson out of a pool? I soon realized I was watching “Splash”, a celebrity diving show. As I said, I was bored, and I have always liked to watch diving, so I stopped surfing and watched. I was soon hooked.

Greg Louganis is now 53 years old. His hair has turned silver and he is even more stunningly handsome than he was when he competed over 20 years ago. But perhaps what is most startling is remembering that he was diagnosed as being HIV positive in 1988. Louganis is acting as coach for the celebrity divers, and when he took to the 35-meter platform, his dive was as flawless as ever. He is proof that, with proper medical care, HIV is not the death sentence it once was.

Greg Louganis was not the person who most amazed me, though. Louie Anderson, 60 years old and 400 pounds, is the person who brought tears to my eyes. Louie learned to swim when he was 55 years old. He claimed to be on the show for all the people out there that are too embarrassed to be seen in a swimsuit or in a pool. On Anderson’s first day of practice, he was unable to get out of the pool without the assistance of Louganis and two others. He was mortified. But he never gave up. In competition, 27-year-old former Playboy model Kendra Wilkinson, unable to overcome her fear of heights, withdrew from competition. Anderson never wavered. He outlasted a former Cosby Kid, a professional football player and the former playboy model. Finally, he was eliminated after a night of flips. “I can hardly turn in bed”, he quipped just before sitting on the 16-foot board and rolling backward into a tumble.

After receiving a score that eliminated him by .25 of a point, he said, “This is not my last dive. This is my first step into a brand new life.” He said he did the show because maybe it would get someone off of the couch.

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