Thank you, Ms. Slater. You're always an inspiration to me.
I've been writing my story since I was in my late teens. I would go over and become so dissatisfied that I can't write again even for years at times.
Four months from today, April Fool's Day, I'll be 78. I've learned to write by having conversations with others about the condition our world is in. Finally some were telling me that how I wrote was eloquent. That so boosted my confidence that each time I wrote I felt comfortable and pleased with myself.
Now, after a horrible two years that blew up in my face, during the pandemic the greedy landlords across the United States decided to raise the rents. This put many, including me, into homelessness. I lived in my car for two years. The California heatwave of 2022 nearly killed me. Hygiene was nearly impossible.
I became so ill. I had to go to Veterans Hospital. That was the smartest thing I've ever done. I entered the day after Christmas and was released January 4th, 2023. Next I was placed in a "Veterans Village. Six months later I was qualified for a Section 8 apartment. The man who lived in my assigned apartment had committed suicide. His parents told the manager to keep the furniture and kitchenware for the next tenant. Me!
Well, I didn't try to be fancy in telling that. It's just the beginning of a new life for me. And, despite the fact that I need a walker and have to use several inhalants, plus a pill for a swollen prostate, I feel as young as I felt before I became ill. Indeed, I've never felt old. I love not having to work for and with people I didn't like. I retired in 2011.
I managed to keep my credit up to date but my car dropped dead on me just when I moved in.
From July 8, 2023, until today, I haven't been able to write a word. I have thoughts I want to put into ink but I don't even do that. I'd better wake up soon. Who knows when I'll have bought the mortgage to the farm, then turned to ash that I will claim in advance that I want my urn to be shipped to New Orleans and placed somewhere inside the Preservation Hall Jazz Band building where my spirit will gasp that breath you mentioned for as long as the Hall remains in place. To hell with Disneyland. In my opinion, New Orleans is the Happiest Place on Earth.
Happy New Year to you and all who are charmed by your lovely writing. I read it with much envy.
Lyn, thank you for this post. I am starting a new challenge in my life as I was recently diagnosed with stage 0 breast cancer. My journey begins later this week with a lumpectomy, followed (maybe) by a few weeks of radiation and medications. I read the poem you suggested, and I will be referring to it in the days ahead. I am feeling good about things as I have wonderful supports - family, friends and a great medical team. I look forward to your book when it's released in March.
"Somewhere in the middle of my seventies, I realised that I liked being old.” So starts my book, The Granny Who Stands on her Head: Reflections on growing older", published two years ago. I am now about to be 82 and I haven't changed my mind. A few things get harder but a surprising lot of things get easier, so forget the age you are reaching and enjoy your life – walk in the woods, smell the flowers and do whatever gives you and others pleasure.
Dear Lyn, Having read all the comments, all I can say is: Ditto, ditto, ditto!
Those of us who write and paint and/or do all the other wonderful artistic things, very often have these dry periods. However, just like Mother Nature, the rains come and nurture our seeds. You make me FEEL and I thank you for that. Have a blessed 2024. Oh, by the way, I will reach the end of my 80th year in September; or shall I say 'I will turn 80'? We celebrate our birthdays at the end of each year... a bit weird!
Enjoy your walks and all the wonderful things you do; I shall join you in spirit.
Happy New Year Lynn. Somehow you always manage to zero in on the same things I am going through. What is it about turning 70 and seeing your life change in less than positive ways. I’m a day late in getting started, but tomorrow I will go out that door and close it, and anticipate all that can be better for me in 2024. Thank you.
There is so much I love about this letter. I feel the longing you describe in my chest and belly, that need for clarity, to get out of my own way. I love the imagery of opening and closing the door, letting the wind and the woods be your guide to show you what you need. Brava. Happy New Year and congrats on your book. I love a book countdown!
Day Two ...2024 can’t sleep. Words: Lost Luggage appear in my mind. Baggage claims never found and I’ve been ‘round the town. Turned the compass points but lost my way. Gave my records to Rita or Sheila. Closed the Doors, took Airplanes stuffed pillows. Let the light bulb burn behind me. Didn’t need excess baggage anyway.
Now luggage lost in storage. Pay rent but buy used clothes. Order food with plastic to sit in a brown wallet colored wall room empty with my records are heard by Rita, Deta, or aAleta’s ears. Women left for a song.
Missed my walk in the city woods. Football games and movies, pizza pie and the TV Eye dull my senses until your words came to entice me to kick the new years spirit and start writing a new page. Got to keep moving, even if shuffling, sifting sand or flower’s petals to shake seeds to plant. My pencil is sharpened and pen’s got ink. Let the scribbles scribe to fill a post box with scenes and saws. Pages to be filled. Your page refills my inkwell. Thanks for walking with me in the woods to find another story to tell.
This resonates so much! There were deep breathes and thoughts at some of the words, and phrases while reading this story. Thank you for sharing that poem too.
Thank you, Ms. Slater. You're always an inspiration to me.
I've been writing my story since I was in my late teens. I would go over and become so dissatisfied that I can't write again even for years at times.
Four months from today, April Fool's Day, I'll be 78. I've learned to write by having conversations with others about the condition our world is in. Finally some were telling me that how I wrote was eloquent. That so boosted my confidence that each time I wrote I felt comfortable and pleased with myself.
Now, after a horrible two years that blew up in my face, during the pandemic the greedy landlords across the United States decided to raise the rents. This put many, including me, into homelessness. I lived in my car for two years. The California heatwave of 2022 nearly killed me. Hygiene was nearly impossible.
I became so ill. I had to go to Veterans Hospital. That was the smartest thing I've ever done. I entered the day after Christmas and was released January 4th, 2023. Next I was placed in a "Veterans Village. Six months later I was qualified for a Section 8 apartment. The man who lived in my assigned apartment had committed suicide. His parents told the manager to keep the furniture and kitchenware for the next tenant. Me!
Well, I didn't try to be fancy in telling that. It's just the beginning of a new life for me. And, despite the fact that I need a walker and have to use several inhalants, plus a pill for a swollen prostate, I feel as young as I felt before I became ill. Indeed, I've never felt old. I love not having to work for and with people I didn't like. I retired in 2011.
I managed to keep my credit up to date but my car dropped dead on me just when I moved in.
From July 8, 2023, until today, I haven't been able to write a word. I have thoughts I want to put into ink but I don't even do that. I'd better wake up soon. Who knows when I'll have bought the mortgage to the farm, then turned to ash that I will claim in advance that I want my urn to be shipped to New Orleans and placed somewhere inside the Preservation Hall Jazz Band building where my spirit will gasp that breath you mentioned for as long as the Hall remains in place. To hell with Disneyland. In my opinion, New Orleans is the Happiest Place on Earth.
Happy New Year to you and all who are charmed by your lovely writing. I read it with much envy.
Richard La France
Lyn, thank you for this post. I am starting a new challenge in my life as I was recently diagnosed with stage 0 breast cancer. My journey begins later this week with a lumpectomy, followed (maybe) by a few weeks of radiation and medications. I read the poem you suggested, and I will be referring to it in the days ahead. I am feeling good about things as I have wonderful supports - family, friends and a great medical team. I look forward to your book when it's released in March.
Thank you Maureen
"Somewhere in the middle of my seventies, I realised that I liked being old.” So starts my book, The Granny Who Stands on her Head: Reflections on growing older", published two years ago. I am now about to be 82 and I haven't changed my mind. A few things get harder but a surprising lot of things get easier, so forget the age you are reaching and enjoy your life – walk in the woods, smell the flowers and do whatever gives you and others pleasure.
There is paint trapped in my brush. Thank you for this. I hope I can set the paint free. Happy new year Lyn!
Dear Lyn, Having read all the comments, all I can say is: Ditto, ditto, ditto!
Those of us who write and paint and/or do all the other wonderful artistic things, very often have these dry periods. However, just like Mother Nature, the rains come and nurture our seeds. You make me FEEL and I thank you for that. Have a blessed 2024. Oh, by the way, I will reach the end of my 80th year in September; or shall I say 'I will turn 80'? We celebrate our birthdays at the end of each year... a bit weird!
Enjoy your walks and all the wonderful things you do; I shall join you in spirit.
Happy New Year Lynn. Somehow you always manage to zero in on the same things I am going through. What is it about turning 70 and seeing your life change in less than positive ways. I’m a day late in getting started, but tomorrow I will go out that door and close it, and anticipate all that can be better for me in 2024. Thank you.
Nature can bring us to our baseline. So glad to read about your journey into the woods.
There is so much I love about this letter. I feel the longing you describe in my chest and belly, that need for clarity, to get out of my own way. I love the imagery of opening and closing the door, letting the wind and the woods be your guide to show you what you need. Brava. Happy New Year and congrats on your book. I love a book countdown!
Day Two ...2024 can’t sleep. Words: Lost Luggage appear in my mind. Baggage claims never found and I’ve been ‘round the town. Turned the compass points but lost my way. Gave my records to Rita or Sheila. Closed the Doors, took Airplanes stuffed pillows. Let the light bulb burn behind me. Didn’t need excess baggage anyway.
Now luggage lost in storage. Pay rent but buy used clothes. Order food with plastic to sit in a brown wallet colored wall room empty with my records are heard by Rita, Deta, or aAleta’s ears. Women left for a song.
Missed my walk in the city woods. Football games and movies, pizza pie and the TV Eye dull my senses until your words came to entice me to kick the new years spirit and start writing a new page. Got to keep moving, even if shuffling, sifting sand or flower’s petals to shake seeds to plant. My pencil is sharpened and pen’s got ink. Let the scribbles scribe to fill a post box with scenes and saws. Pages to be filled. Your page refills my inkwell. Thanks for walking with me in the woods to find another story to tell.
There are many words trapped in my pen...thoughts, wanting to connect the dots. Eventually they will morph into the phrases they are meant to be.
This resonates so much! There were deep breathes and thoughts at some of the words, and phrases while reading this story. Thank you for sharing that poem too.
Needing another writer awakens the awareness that to be the needed writer is a gift. I love this. Your book will be a gift.
I too have found the words from my heart coming out of another writer's pen. It shows we are connected and can be lifted up in surprising ways.
I love the work of Joy Harjo, she has the ability to nail it every time.
Hard to find a word to describe how exactly right Lyn is, although accidents, like coincidences get harder to believe in as we age.
I love the idea of having those
intense feelings validated by the words if another author. I have often experienced this myself.
I haven’t walked as much lately either and I need to get back out there - my soul (and my writing) need it.