Saturday, February 4, 2023

 Who Makes Up This Crap? 

I saw a heading on Quora today for a list of "Things Baby Boomers Still Think Are Cool." I went through the clickbait so you don't have to, and I offer you the list, along with my comments.

1. Cursive. I happen to love cursive writing, and I admire beautiful penmanship and calligraphy. I write my journals in cursive and I'm proud! I'm also happy to think that my descendants won't be able to read them.
2. China Plates. I suppose. We do have Haviland. We even have an antique china cabinet with curved glass doors. One of my sisters has my parents' complete set of Castleton Caprice. Surprised that this list didn't include sterling silver.
3. 24-Hour News Networks. If an unbiased one existed, I'd probably enjoy it. I do miss journalism--thank God my mother sends me the Tribune. I'm surprised that newspapers didn't make this list.
4. Diamonds. What? I wear my necklace with a tiny diamond on an 18k gold chain every day. It was a retirement gift from my best friend 13 years ago. I love diamonds.
5, Patterned Wallpaper. Ugh. Agree. So 1980's.
6. Unpaid Internships. Why is this on here? To me, irrelevant.
7. Crocs. Again, I agree. Glad they didn't put Birkenstocks on their list. I have about 25 pairs.
8. Blaming Millennials. For what? Why? 
9. Home Shopping Channels. I don't think they're cool. Never have. My home shopping channel is amazon.com.
10. High Waisted Jeans. You try being 72 years old with abdominal fat. I can't even zip up my size 18 Sevens. I will always wear my mom jeans.
11. Writing Checks. Of course I write checks. Just not as many as I did 20 years ago.
12. Landlines. Yup--got rid of ours around 15 years ago. I still miss it.
13. Fossil Fuels. Why would someone think this is cool? Why is this on the list?
14. The Mall. Yup. Osteoarthritis in both knees. The good stores went away long before I reached the stage of finding walking uncomfortable. Amazon.com is my mall.
15. Khaki Capri Pants. Oh, please. I own several cute pairs of convertible pants (you can roll them up and snap them) I guess it's not a matter of coolness, unless you're talking about the weather. I won't appear in public in shorts.
16. Denim everything. Agree. That went out with the Duggars. I do love my jean jacket.
17. Jello everything. Ugh. Agree. Never thought it was cool.
18. Encyclopedias. Yup. I was a paraprofessional reference librarian for 35 years, and never used them.
19. Socks and sandals. I wear socks with my Birkenstocks sometimes. I must be the epitome of uncool.
20. Phone books. Agree, but I miss them. They were fun to look at. When I was still working, whenever I had a shift in the Local History and Genealogy Room, I enjoyed looking at the old phone books from our city. Can't say I used them for reference questions.
21. Shag Carpets. Ugh, ugh, triple ugh--I have hated them all my life. I always thought that carpet companies should have coordinated with cat food manufacturers, in order to match the various hues of cat throw-up. I have always preferred hardwood floors with Turkish or kilim area rugs.
22. Visors. Agreeunless you're sunbathing on a beach.
24. Fuzzy Toilet Seat Covers. They've always seemed tacky to me, and I know no one who thinks they're cool.
25. Records. LPs? Some purists like them. I still have mine. But I prefer digitized music, either loud in the car or with Bluetooth earbuds at home.
26. Ironing. It's "cooler" (also in the context of weather) to wear rayon batik dresses or tops, and 100% cotton clothing. Covering your body in an oil slick of polyester material has always been disgusting, in my opinion. Wrinkled attire is not cool. Yes, I iron--and we had a pull-out wall ironing board installed in our laundry room last time we remodeled. Just like Grandma's.
27. Bar Soap. I think it's unhygienic. It's not a matter of what's cool.
28. Meatloaf. I love meatloaf!
29. Patterned vests. Never wore them, never thought they made a fashion statement. Were they 80's preppie? I guess.
30. Cop dramas. Never watched them. Never watched western/cowboy shows, either. This week I heard, for the first time, the expression "I got the hell out of Dodge." I had no idea what it meant - I had
 to google it. That does it. I'm certifiably uncool.

 

Wednesday, November 10, 2021

ON LIVING WITH ADD


I was born in 1950, and I went all through childhood, grade school, high school, college, and most of my working years with untreated ADD (I don’t call it ADHD, because I'm not hyperactive). It didn’t yet exist as a diagnosis, even for children, when I was little. Adult ADD wasn't "invented" until I was in my forties. It simply drained my energy, cost me respect, and removed the option for me to marry, have children, earn advanced degrees and excel at what I was: a paraprofessional librarian. (Always a bridesmaid!) I was fortunate to be able to retire at 59. Even now, on Adderall, it is difficult for my family to bear my society for any length of time. At least now it's acknowledged and not treated as a fad diagnosis. I'm quite sure my dad had it, too, rest his soul. It is a disability, and how well I remember the cruelty of teachers and classmates in school, especially elementary school--all the way up to the horrors I experienced at a large state university, away from home for the first time--and, of course, at work. I was lucky to be employed at the public library; back in the day, it was considered a respectable haven for the unloved--especially those of us with unmarketable liberal arts degrees.

At age 71, I am still in regular therapy, but I struggle--a LOT. I know what a burden I am for my housemate, although I do my best. I struggle every day with feeling stupid and incompetent, enduring criticism and being shunned by family members who say I drive them "crazy" and create "too much drama," even though I’m smart, creative, a published author, a talented artist and an accomplished musician. At least I can be entertaining; my therapist constantly tells me, "You're so funny!" I love that. People who struggle as I do appreciate any kind of affirmation that comes our way, even if we're crying inside. Because we don't get a whole lot of respect in this baffling world.

 At least I don't. Or do I?  I don’t think so. If it's there, it's fleeting, and I might not notice it, because I'm not paying attention. That's how life feels, in the endless loop of ADD.

 

Sunday, November 7, 2021

ABBA is back! And they have a new album!

In ABBA's heyday, I was a self-proclaimed musical snob, and refused to listen to any music that wasn't classical. They were probably at their peak in the USA when I was 27, in 1977. My car had AM radio, so I heard the songs, but I didn't wax poetic over them. Of course, the sound quality of car AM radios back then wasn't the greatest. It wasn't until I was in my fifties (!) that I got off my high horse and started to listen to their music and appreciate it. Being of Swedish heritage, I discovered a newfound sense of pride that this group, of my nationality, was so beloved. 

Fast-forward to the dark Muriel's Wedding, with its hilarious Waterloo scene, to the release of the two Mamma Mia movies, which I found priceless--all I could think was "What on earth was I doing when this group was so popular? I love them!" I bought all their albums and have been a fan ever since. Now, as I connect with my cousins in Sweden, we're all rejoicing over the appearance of Voyage, just released this past Friday. Here's a picture of them - they are MY generation (!) - followed by my comments on the recording.


                                                     
                    Agnetha                 Bjorn
Benny                  Frida

My take on ABBA'S new album, VOYAGE:

 

1. My 3 Favorites:


      -- I Still Have Faith In You

      -- Ode to Freedom

      -- Bumblebee


2. Comments on tracks:


--  I Still Have Faith in You: Beautiful, perfect! My favorite.

--  When You Danced With Me: Great melody and rhythm--love it!

--  Little Things: Lovely melody, perhaps I would enjoy it more at Christmas. Instrumentation is a bit birdlike and twee. If that's a children's chorus at the end, I don't like that. My least favorite.

 --Don't Shut Me Down: Great song, love it, wish the ending weren't so abrupt.

 --Just a Notion--Nothing to critique. Love rhythm and harmonies. Very ABBA!

 --I Can Be That Woman: Sweet, poignant;  I  love the lyrics, love the song!

 --Keep an Eye on Dan: Good song, I love chorus,  people say ending is reminiscent of SOS - I'll have to listen to SOS again to hear that.

  --Bumblebee: Enya-esque, beautiful melody-- a favorite! I hear a little bit of "Fernando" in the intro.

  --No Doubt About It: Starts out "country" but I don't think of it as a country song. Love it, but ending is too abrupt.

  --Ode to Freedom: Beautiful, a favorite--and even if the chorus is augmented in production, I love the song!


3. Overall opinion: Great album! Thank you for the music, ABBA!

Wednesday, December 30, 2020

On Turning Sixty - a Letter to my sisters Nancy and Cathy

December 19, 2020

Dear Nancy and Cathy,

What a beautiful soul you have, Nancy, expressing the idea of honoring our dear sister Peggy by living the rest of your years well for her. l'll add another one, if I may. Occasionally, I "mother" her son Jonathan.  He knows that I'm always there for him. We have deep talks, and I remind him that his wisdom and insight come from a beautiful source - the spring that flows through him and his brothers - from their mother! I remind him how much she loved them. They were her world. We talk about Cliff a lot. Also, I talk to Stu. I love those young men as if they are bone of my bone - especially JonBob. I have learned that you don't have to birth children to have those bonds.

With aging come the usual aches and pains, from which we learn to be brave - as in Sara Barielles' song. Age entitles us to speak our minds (with gentleness and tact, of course), and draw on our experiences as we mentor the younger ones. Aging teaches us that even though there are bodily and cognitive changes, our core selves remain - as a silk thread of constancy running through the tapestry of life. And we learn to treasure family more.

With aging comes the acceptance of the body - there is less emphasis on hair and clothes. And even in our own aging, we sisters have our mother to look up to. She still guides us with her wisdom. We cherish our elders, and we strive to become the elders who are moving into that role.

Do not be afraid of 60! Relax and enjoy life. Dad often said that. Every day is a gift and an opportunity to do for others. One is never too old to learn new things. Look at Marie and me, beginning to play a new instrument. Yup, it's a challenge, but worth it!

Aging gives us a closer walk with our spirituality. We have faith. We learn to be less concerned about material things. We treasure family, and learn to forget about the fleeting little dust-ups that come from time to time.

Nancy, sixty is a wonderful, pivotal year. Look at you and Jack! The grace of your bodies because of healthy living. The four exceptional adults you have raised. Cathy, you are surrounded by clan. Rejoice in it!

I miss Peggy every day. JonBob and I talk about her. If he asks me questions, I answer them honestly. I miss Dad every day, too.

Please don't forget about our sister Susan. Love her and call her and think about staying in the '"now" when you talk to her. That's good advice for everyone.

So yes, we Flygare sisters have achieved the honorable status of cronedom. Wear that crown proudly but humbly, Queen Nan Jeanne.

2021 will be a grand adventure. President Biden! A vaccine! I look forward to the day "when the lights come on again, all over the world." (That's an old song) Because, indeed, they will. And we shall all see it together.

With all my love and respect,

Elizabeth

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Appreciating My Parents



Yesterday, my nebulizer machine wouldn't work. I took it apart methodically. After I'd removed the hose from the unit, I turned it on, and felt air coming through. Turned it off, re-attached the hose, and again felt air. Then, I replaced the inside part where you pour the Albuterol solution, and felt no air. Aha! I took a paper clip and stretched it out and poked it through that sucker. The tiny pinhole was clogged up. I replaced the part, and felt air! I tested the final attachment, including the mouthpiece, after filling the little compartment with an ampule of Albuterol. Voila! I now have a working VIOS nebulizer. Next cycle I run through it will be with a solution of vinegar and water, to clean out any other buildup. 

My father, Robert J. Flygare, who passed away in 1997, was a chemical engineer. Hence, I composed the following and sent it to my mother and sisters.

"Well, things breakin' down can cause ya dismay
Unless you're a daughter of Robert. J.
He could fix anything, and I'm just that way--
Thank God I'm an engineer!"

Then, I got to thinking about Mom, who turned 92 in May. Her response to my e-mail had been, "Yes, all our daughters are 100%."  I thought about that for a few minutes, and then sent her this:

"Mom, you said in an e-mail to me: "Yes, all of our daughters are 100%." Well, you are 100%, too! Yes, I sent a poem about learning to fix things by watching Dad, but that doesn't mean I couldn't write a volume about all the things I learned from you, back when I was "Gigi Doll," (aka "Little Vi.")  Here is a list, at random, of things that warm my heart because I got them from you: (and I am still learning!)
1. When driving, even though we now have seat belts, if I have to brake suddenly, I automatically swing my right arm across the passenger seat to protect the person sitting there, even if there is no passenger!            

2. I sing my life. I find myself turning so many things I do every day into a song! Mom, you sang our childhood to us. This link is to a video from You Tube of five sisters singing "Music in my Mother's House" to their mother and her friends at her 80th birthday party. You won't be able to understand the verses because of the laughter, (I couldn't).  But the chorus comes through loud and clear.
3. You were wonderful when I was learning to drive. I felt so calm and relaxed when I was in the car with you! You were calm and patient with me.
4. .Every day, after we got our stereo, I'd come home from Linden Park School and ask you if I could listen to one of our classical records. You were always so pleased to fulfill my requests. It was because of your description of the music course you took in college (you even gave me the textbook!) that I decided to pursue music as a minor in college. Who could ever forget you singing "Ceeeee-sar Frank! Ceeeee-sar Frank!" to the Symphony in D Minor? (It is actually pronounced "SAY-sar Fronck") You taught me so much about classical music!
5. "Do for OTHERS." What a gift. Your words, so often said to me, are my motto. People can't be happy if they are self-centered. You taught me that.
6. You drew me to the United Methodist Church, and back to my Christian faith. I am forever grateful for that.
7. You taught me some simple things that I still appreciate--here are two: (a) how to put polish on my fingernails the correct way, and (b) the polite way to fold your hands in your lap at church if you aren't wearing gloves--always cup your hand with a beautiful ring on your finger inside the other hand--do NOT lay it on top, because that looks like you are admiring your jewels and showing off the people next to you in the pew.
8.  You taught me to assert myself. I have always admired how forthright you are. I like to think that I got that from you. I bet we all did!"
I'm sure there are many, many more things I could add to this list. 
______________________________________________________________________

I hope all who read this take a moment to cherish their parents, be they living or not. I continue to feel blessed every day of my life because of the beautiful childhood they gave me.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

My response on Quora to the question: What is the most cringeworthy thing you have seen at a wedding?

Elizabeth Flygare
Elizabeth Flygare, former Retired Paraprofessional Librarian (1975-2010)




Myself, in true ADHD fashion, nonchalantly photobombing every attempt the professional photographers made to take pictures at my niece’s wedding reception last May. My fat ass got in about twelve of them - me at an awkward angle, snapping with my phone, oblivious to the horror that was rippling throughout the room as I blocked their view. The sister of the bride had to text my sister (mother of bride) to tell her that “Elizabeth needs to sit down and stop taking pictures.” A month after the fact, my sister emailed me the worst of the photos. You can even see the looks on the faces of the guests, the wedding photographers and the wedding party. I will add that I had on a bright pink batik tunic and shocking pink leggings, finished off with bling Birkenstocks. I looked like I was wearing the drapes.

I honestly was clueless about what I was doing. I was simply focusing (forgive the double entendre) on our 91-year old’s mother’s request to me, that I “take lots of pictures,” because she doesn’t travel any more - she has a caregiver - this is the first family wedding Mom has missed. Mom does not know about my faux pas (too lazy to look up the plural of that) and - thank heavens, the other family members at the table were too polite to mention it to me after the event, and I know they didn’t tell Mom.

I will never wear that outfit again, but here is a photo of me wearing it at WisCon in Madison, a week or so after the wedding. In this one, I am with my boyfriend, and I’m not being a fool. (at least I don’t think so) Obviously I packed the outfit for the con and wore it with aplomb because I hadn’t yet heard about my “performance” at the wedding reception. (My sister didn’t see the proofs until June) She was plenty pissed off at me, but she promised me that no one else would see the photobombs, and that they would not be printed. Haven’t worn the outfit since. The shoes hurt my feet, too.




Wednesday, January 24, 2018

My Review of Girl at the End of the World on Goodreads

Girl at the End of the World: My Escape from Fundamentalism in Search of Faith with a FutureGirl at the End of the World: My Escape from Fundamentalism in Search of Faith with a Future by Elizabeth Esther
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I have heard horror stories about daily spankings, ("the sword of the Lord,”) starting when children are six months old. I have read about the fear of being "left behind" (when, not if) Armageddon happens, and families who have meeting spaces in case the Rapture occurs and they are "arrested by the Antichrist." I’ve heard all about the modest clothing, the practice of "courtship" (arranged marriages) in place of dating; in short, the self-flagellating, terrified affect carried around like giant rocks around their necks by people who were born and raised in this environment. I have read countless non-fiction books about fundamentalist sects that are out of the bell curve, and I have observed people who appear to be carrying that weight.

But never in my born days have I read someone’s actual words about how she believed that "being a pacifist means hitting your kid to save her soul." The use of violence against children is abhorrent to me, as I am sure it is to most. Never have I ever heard of a little child forced into street preaching, believing "I am ready to die for Jesus." In this short book by Elizabeth Esther, we are taken into the graphic world of hyper-literal interpretation of the Bible (my note: which version?) along with rigid rules, fear, child-beating and brainwashing.

This is religious abuse.

Elizabeth Esther's wake-up call comes following the tragedy of the attacks on 9/11/2001, which were interpreted by her family as the Apocalypse. Following this is a private disclosure by Elizabeth's own mother, where she confides to her daughter that before marrying Elizabeth's father, the love of her life died of a serious illness. Catapulted by the shock of this loss, her mother lands directly into a marriage into what amounts to a cult. Yes -- even so, Elizabeth’s mother chooses to follow the rigid teachings and practices.

Elizabeth marries a man named Matt, who was raised as she was. They start out resolving to bring up their children along the lines of their childhood mindset. Then, one day, the light comes on: It is the moment Elizabeth’s mother hands her a kitchen spoon and orders her to discipline her one-year-old baby. She realizes that she that she does not have to break her daughter's spirit by beating her. Eyes opened, Elizabeth finds the courage to say "No!" The cycle is broken. She and her husband, Matt, begin to hunt for the truth. They find others who are willing to give eyewitness accounts of their own abuse. Through arduous research, including the process of hearing from others about this type of fundamentalism, they learn about misuse of tithe money, adultery and horrendous beatings of women by their husbands in similar sects.

"Love me, God. I dare you," she prays. She feels a call so strong that she follows it. Now, she and Matt are raising their children in the Catholic Church, where mystery is embraced and service to others is encouraged. Through her new faith, Elizabeth is freed from the terror of a vengeful, punishing God. She learns, through therapy and her newfound beliefs, to be gentle with herself. She gains the courage to put away the self-loathing and, for the first time, feel able to be both holy and happy. We see her make peace with her mother, accept her parents’ apology, and become able to forgive. I am glad I stayed up late enough to finish this book. I slept better knowing that Elizabeth Esther and her family have found security, safety and grace. I will never again make fun of the fundamentalism movement in which she was raised, because cruelty is never funny. Many who read my review will question her decision to turn to Catholicism; I respect it. I respect her for having the guts to write this book in hopes that it will help others. I am thankful that she has realized that she is a beloved child of God, and that she has found joy and purpose in life.






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