Tag: Lorie Sheffer

Zombie Invasion, By Lorie Sheffer

My grandson, in discussing the serious subject of who he would want to have on his team in the event of a Zombie invasion, laughed when my daughter suggested to him, “I’d want your LoLo on my team.”

Without missing a beat he shot back, “Momma, LoLo can’t run.”

Why should it bother me that an 11 year old would automatically assume I couldn’t run? This is the child with whom I spent nearly every day of his life from the day he was born until just last year, when his mother’s career change allowed her to get him off of the bus every afternoon. I was under the impression that he thought I was a super hero. I’m the one who hard boiled and packaged an egg for him that just few weeks ago beat out 70 others in some weird egg boxing match at his school. I have spent many summer days doing cannonballs into the pool with him. I was stunned that I would not be someone he would automatically want on his team should Zombies ever invade.

Today I went to my daughter’s house to help her prepare for a yard sale, and just in time to meet Carter as he got home from school. I challenged him to a race. I told him that I wanted to run across the front yards. He actually laughed at my crazy idea and me. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve actually moved faster than a brisk walk in at least 15 years.

We stood side by side at the edge of the neighbor’s driveway. My daughter called the race, holding her hands out so that whichever of us slapped her hand first would be declared the winner. I gritted my teeth, dug in my feet and flew off the start, determined not to let this boy win. Arms pumping, I pushed off with every step, digging in and using my feet to propel the rest of me forward. My eyes squinted shut and I reached out toward my daughter’s hand, smacking it square in the palm. I then ran into my car, which was parked in the driveway. I turned around, panting and puffing, to see my grandson standing there with a look of disbelief on his face. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. I stopped on the way home for some lavender scented Epsom salts and a fresh bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. My breathing has since returned to normal.

Who do you want on your team of Zombie fighters now? Huh? Because what self respecting middle aged grandmother isn’t going to want to beat an 11 year old in a front yard footrace?

Things That Matter, By Lorie Sheffer

Sometimes it amazes me when I observe what stresses people out. Just the other day, a TV show came on and my father commented on how he can’t stand the host. He said she gets on his last nerve. Whenever I am at his house at that time of day, the TV is tuned to that channel and he is watching that show. The remote is right beside of him.

My husband and I were standing in line at a deli on Thursday afternoon and overheard two people talking about the Royal Wedding. Said they were sick of reading about it. Why read it, then, I wondered? I will often hear people complain about how depressing it is to watch the news, and I can’t help but wonder why they don’t just turn off the TV and go read a book or listen to music?

When my son was a teenager he wore his hair rather long. In fact, his ponytail ended at the middle of his back. More than once the comment was made to me that “MY son would never get away with that! I’d make him cut that hair!” When my daughter came home from school with her tongue pierced the comments were off the charts. Call me crazy, but it was just never an issue for me. Why get my shorts in a knot over things that really don’t matter? Eventually she got sick of the tongue jewelry and he cut his hair.

I was nearing 50 when I decided to find out what all the fuss was about; I got a tattoo. I sort of thought it would be fun. The biggest decision was should I get the Aerosmith logo or my husband’s name in a heart. I ended up getting the name in a heart for his birthday. What else can you get a man who has everything? After being asked what I had gotten Gary for his birthday, I actually had someone tell me that they HATE tattoos. “OK”, I replied. “Then don’t get one.” They were upset and bordering on angry with me over a small tattoo that they were never even going to have to look at. They behaved as if I had drugged them and inked them against their will. After calmly assuring them that it was perfectly fine with me that they didn’t care for tattoos, they still ranted on. Looking back, I think it upset them more that I was unaffected by their opinion.

Sometimes the answers to what is bothering us are simple. In fact, they can be as simple as “Turn the channel”, “Don’t read about it”, “It’s not hurting anyone and it will pass in time”, and “So don’t do it if you don’t like it.”  That TV host can’t hear you, the news is going to happen with or without your approval, even good kids find strange ways to express themselves, and why freak out over something another person does, especially if it really has no affect on you?  Why would anyone want to cause themselves stress over things that really don’t matter?

Dabble, By Lorie Sheffer

My shrink: What do you do for fun?
Me: Huh?
My shrink: What do you do for fun? Just for you? What do you enjoy doing? What’s your hobby or interest?
Me: God… I don’t know…. I don’t remember……. (panic sets in)
My shrink: You’re going to have to just dabble. Eventually you’ll know the answer.

Kids seem to know what it means to dabble. They naturally jump from one interest to another, often taking years before they find their true passion. When they hit it, they know. It’s the thing for which they don’t lose interest or have to be nagged into practicing. As adults, we are the ones who chauffer them from the practice field to the dance studio, from play practice to the ice rink. Along the way, it’s very easy to lose sight of our own interests. In the real life world of shuttling kids to their activities, trying to eat something besides drive through meals, and tending to work and home related chores, “me time” can take a back seat. Then one day, the kids are grown and our time is our own. When that happens, we may find ourselves wondering, “Now what?”

Several years ago I found myself with nothing to do. My daughter was grown and had a son or her own, and my son was in college 8 hours away from home. I could do whatever I wanted with this newfound free time. The problem was, so many years had passed since my children weren’t the center of my world that I couldn’t remember what I enjoyed doing that didn’t revolve around them. That was when I realized that I, too, would have to learn to dabble. I would have to revert to my childhood and try out new things until I found what spoke to me.

I tried out gardening and I fell in love with it. Thankfully I live only minutes from a large garden center, and I would sometimes get there just as they were opening for the day. I could spend the entire day just digging in the dirt, planting and transplanting. The trouble is, here in the northeast warm weather doesn’t last year round. Over the years, I found that I also enjoy painting. Not on canvas so much as on walls. My dad laughs and says that I have painted the rooms in my house so many times that they are noticeably smaller than when we first moved in. I learned to hang wallpaper, refinish furniture and hone my sewing skills. I found that yoga is the only form of exercise I look forward to. I am learning how I enjoy spending my time. Former President Jimmy Carter didn’t learn to ski until be was 62. I learned when I was in my early 20s, and although I became rather good at it, I never enjoyed it. Maybe I would have appreciated it more if I’d have waited.

American Beauty by Lorie Sheffer

“This isn’t life, it’s just stuff. And it’s become more important to you than living. Well, honey, that’s just nuts.” – Lester Burnham, American Beauty (1999)

There seems to be a story I keep hearing over and over again from friends with adult children. Their “kids” have decent jobs and yet they can’t seem to pay their bills. Without batting an eye, the parents are dipping into retirement savings to “help”. With the median family income in this country at just under $50,000 a year, I’m floored when I hear a newly married couple can’t make ends meet on an $80,000 a year combined income.

Some quick research showed me what I had suspected could be at the heart of this seeming sense of entitlement for many of today’s young adults. Growing up, I can’t think of one single friend of mine who lived in a house with more than one bathroom. Many of them shared a bedroom with one or more siblings. Nobody had more than one TV. Most teenagers borrowed the family car. I found that in 1950 the average size of a home in the United States was 983 square feet. In 1970 it was 1,500 square feet, in 1990 it was 2,080 square feet and by 2004 it had risen to 2,349 square feet.

When a friend was visiting from Germany several years ago, he commented on how many SUVs he saw. In Europe, they take public transportation or ride a bike or drive a smaller car. They have to pay a high yearly registration to drive something that uses a lot of gas. Of course gas is much cheaper here in the U.S., he told me. Over there it was around $8.00 a gallon.

When I was growing up we went on a vacation every year. Campers were the big thing back then, as were Howard Johnson’s and their signature orange roofs. For most of us, luxury hotels were something we only saw in the movies. I remember people being upset by the “new luxury condos” that were being built in Ocean City Maryland. They would block the sun in the afternoons, and who was going to rent or buy them anyway? Only rich people could afford those!

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t think the problem is big homes and nice cars and extravagant vacations. I think the problem is thinking we HAVE to have those things, even if it means needing to ask for help to pay for that life. Maybe in wanting to see our children achieve The American Dream – which is becoming increasingly larger- we have lost sight of the fact that it all has to be paid for.

While chatting with my son over the phone today, I asked him why he had his wife have never asked us for money. He seemed kind of taken aback. I explained to him that I was preparing to write this post, and asked for his opinion. Bottom line is, he feels it is a good idea to live with less than you can afford instead of more than you can afford. Also, in doing so you tend to learn how to reuse and repurpose, which leaves less of an environmental footprint. (Well done, Grasshopper; well done.)

“ My company sells an image. It’s part of my job to live that image.” – Lester Burnham’s wife, Carolyn.

Projection, By Lorie Sheffer

Have you ever noticed someone will say they can’t stand a personality trait or behavior of another person, and thought to yourself, “But that’s what YOU do!”

Psychological projection is a rather commonly used defense mechanism. We project thoughts or feelings that we have onto someone else. The classic example is the jealous husband who constantly accuses his wife of cheating, when he is the one who is being unfaithful. “Jane” may not like her sister in law, “Edith”, but she won’t admit that, so she will say that she can just tell that “Edith” doesn’t like her. “John” always feels the need to judge others, and yet he accuses “Sam” of always judging him.

If there is someone who gets on your last nerve, sit down and write a list of what you do not like about this person. Put the list away for a few days, and then come back and take a good look at it. Does the list include things you don’t like about yourself? If you substitute your name for the name of the person for whom you have written the list, does it ring true for how YOU behave? For example, if you have written “Joe is so stupid. His grammar is horrible, his social skills are atrocious, etc.” could this mean that you are perhaps insecure about your own social skills and intelligence?

If we pay close attention to what bothers us about others, sometimes we find that it is actually what bothers us about ourselves. We have no control over changing someone else, but if we take a really close look at our own thoughts and feelings, we CAN make changes that will result in our liking ourselves much better. You can’t fix what you are unwilling to see.