I'm Not "Reaching out" to anyone

I haven't written any posts on this blog since 2024, so I hope it still works.

I have to vent today. Almost every day, I get a phone call or a text or an email in which I'm told that the sender is "reaching out" to me. I get it in person whenever I am communicating with a doctor, dentist, financial advisor; in short, any entity that is not a personal friend or family member. I have never heard my mother nor my three sisters nor any of my close friends, including my housemate of 23 years, announce that they are "reaching out" to me.

"Reach out" is the new impersonal jargon for "contact," and I suppose corporatespeak thinks it sounds friendlier; hence, the appearance of "reaching out" or "reach out" in all their communications. I HATE IT. It reminds me of fake plants and furniture covered with plastic. 

I hate "reach out " even more than I hate "at the end of the day," which gets under my craw. Whenever someone tells me that they are reaching out to me, I hear myself responding in a rude, sarcastic manner; often I say. "You mean that you are contacting me." The final straw was last week, when the head pastor of my church used the phrase in a conversation with me. We are in the process of recruiting a new organist/pianist/accompanist, and I suggested someone to him. "E--lizabeth!" he almost sputtered. "Why would I reach out to _______?" It was all I could do to contain my fury. If I hear "reach out" from the pulpit, I  will have reached out to the end of my rope. I will get up from my pew and reach out for the door.

Why do I hate this jargon so much? Because it is fake--impersonal impersonating warmth. It is just more annoying phrase that started on the corporate level and is infiltrating our culture. Hearing or reading it triggers my rage. Just stop it, all of you who are using this with clients. Tell me that you are contacting me.

My mother is 100 years old. I thank God that when she calls me or writes to me, she never announces that she is "reaching out" to me. I have a sneaking suspicion that she hates "reach out" as much as I do. 

End of rant!

Musings on the new Rockford Public Library
July 10, 2024

On June 22, Marie and I attended the grand opening of the new downtown Rockford Public Library. First impression: It's beautiful, but I can’t tell what that building thinks it’s supposed to be. Lit up at night, along the riverfront, it looks like a cruise ship. By day, it is a vast circling of open spaces with a disastrous lack of signage. The layout seems illogical and chaotic, but I will be gracious; they need time to settle. Such a shock, knowing that Marie and I will never see the back offices nor the staff lounge. I don’t even know where it is. As for the staff, most of them have no idea who I am, except for dear Jean Lythgoe, who runs the Local History Room at the age of seventy-seven with no immediate plans for retirement. Marie and I saw no reference books. In fact, we saw no reference desk. There is no romance there, no hardwood.  The chandelier from the old building went to the City Auction.

Yet just days ago, on the Fourth of July, Marie and I drove down to see the fireworks, and we found a parking place close to the new library. We carried our lawn chairs to the area that used to be the esplanade and had a perfect view. Arriving early to ensure this, we had an hour to sit and observe, and as I looked up at the new library, I realized something: it had been constructed in such a way that it appeared to be up on a hill.

A high and holy hill.  As in Sydney Carter's song. A newly-seeded grassy hill, in the exact spot where the lot used to be—the place where Dave Erickson and I parked our cars long ago. And there were children running and shrieking with joy, rolling down that hill the way I used to love to roll down hills with my sisters when we were little girls. Watching those children reminded me of the scene at the end of Steel Magnolias, during the Easter egg hunt when Annelle went into labor. “Shelby, I guess,” she replied, when asked her girl/boy name choices. I almost expected to see Kevin J. O’Connor in his bunny suit, and I laughed out loud. My library! I couldn’t stop smiling.

I looked up again at that gleaming new building on the hill, and something inside me whispered Yes. “My library,” I repeated, this time aloud. Marie didn’t hear me, and it was all right. I felt a sense of peace. Life goes on.. The sacred ground has been set free. They didn’t pave Paradise and put up a parking lot, Joni Mitchell. They rebuilt Jerusalem, a temple that stands where those feet once trod in ancient times, sporting a mustache and black-rimmed glasses, wearing cowboy boots.

 

 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. Agree, unless 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.

 

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.

 

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!

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

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.

 Music in My Mother's House

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.