“What’s this?” “There’s nothing in this.” he says.
“Oh, really?” I say.
The box, it’s empty. I could’ve sworn I put all the gifts inside before I tied it up with that big beautiful bow. Oh wait, I did. They aren’t gifts that money can buy. That box is full of memories.
Memories of years gone by. Of family that is scattered. Of family that has passed away. Of Christmas cookies and roasts that aren’t on any table. Of beautifully decorated Christmas trees in the living room that used to have so many voices around them. Of the front door opening with so many well wishers on Christmas morning.
That box is jam packed full. That box is far from empty.
That’s the best gift anyone could ever give to someone special, the gift of all the warm, comforting memories of family and friends.
You know what goes next in that big, beautiful empty box – the new memories that are still to be made. Jam pack it with new memories of new traditions, new voices, new family and friends. While we adjust to those that have left us this time of year, we know they would not want us to be sad and missing them, they would want us to be like they were, full of cheer and laughter, warmth and joy.
I hope you all find a beautifully wrapped, beautiful full empty box this year that doesn’t cost a cent somewhere around your home. It will forever be the best gift anyone can give.
I had to do some far back thinking for this piece. I wanted to capture just what it felt like to be 20 years old in 1985 on a weeknight. My weeknights now revolve around a cell phone, scrolling through Facebook & Instagram, scrolling again through Facebook & Instagram. This was not what life was like for me on a typical weeknight in 1985, 40 years ago – close your eyes and imagine along with me, here we go —-
I lived in my childhood home still, wasn’t anxious to ‘launch’ and was planning to marry a ‘rockstar’ at the time (more on that some other time). There was no urgency for me to make big bucks or have a Dynasty type ‘career’ complete with shoulder pads and office suits. I worked at a soundproof room company about 1 mile from my house as a word processor. I kept track of my time on a paper timesheet. Most likely walked upstairs to the 2nd floor to hand it in to Carol who ran payroll on some sort of a computer every 2 weeks. I received a paper paycheck, went to the Barney machine – yes, I still, to this day, call the ATM, the Barney machine – in the Caldor shopping plaza. Any bills I paid, I would write a check and I kept a handwritten check register that I learned how to maintain by watching my Mom do the family check register.
I would end my work day, walk to my Mercury Topaz and put in one of my homemade cassette tapes where songs were usually cut off at the end, flipped to Side B and continued (I never claimed to be an expert at making cassettes) or my Cyndi Lauper, Girls Just Want To Have Fun cassette, for my 4 minute drive home.
It’s now about 5:15 pm – what next? Go inside, put my pocketbook away in my room – head back downstairs to see what was going on for supper – I’m 20, I live at home, Mom’s cooking for me and I’m pretty happy. We’d have dinner in the kitchen, me, Dad, Mom. I cleared the dishes from the table and Dad went to watch the evening news with Dan Rather. I’d head in the den to usually find him with his eyes closed. He worked a long day as a mail carrier, his day usually started at 5:30 am. If he wasn’t working in the yard or garden, this is where you’d find him. A daily newspaper, called The Norwalk Hour, also in his lap. We read real newspapers back then. I usually read the comics or did the word jumble. Mom picked up her needlepoint.
OK, what next? I’m trying to recreate an evening in 1985, not 1955 although it’s sounding a little 1950s. I had a pretty solid Mom/Dad vibe going on, I was very lucky. Anyways, I was not going to pick up a cell phone at this point in the night, that’s for sure. Well, there was a soap opera on at 1 pm every day that we would all miss, so you know what we did? Very cutting edge of us — we video recorded it on our VHS machine! The next thing we all would do was rewind the VHS tape and watch the daily episode of ‘All My Children’ – so much fun! Loved getting caught up on Erica, Tad, Opal and the gang.
Now we are up to about 8 pm and I’m either watching Family Ties or Growing Pains. Most likely in pajamas already. But then, guess what?? A sudden ring of a phone – yes, you guessed it, a wall phone, way off in the distance, all the way in the kitchen! No matter what part of the show you were on, you’d run to the kitchen to pick up the loud ringing phone – if it was for me (my ‘rockstar’ boyfriend), I’d usually say “hey Mom, can you hang this up, once I get to the upstairs phone”? We’d talk about our day, what we had for lunch, dinner, what record company was he going to sign with someday, what we were (well ‘not’) watching anymore now that we were talking on the phone – and – if someone else was trying to get through – nope – busy signal. Sorry, Aunt Phyllis!
After hanging up, I’d wash up with Noxzema — if it was good enough for supermodel Carol Alt who was splashed all over my Mademoiselle magazines, then it was definitely good enough for me! Grab an actual book, a Time to Kill by John Grisham, and climb into my comfy bed. I got through many a weeknights without a cell phone and I’d like to get through more this same way.
So, there you have it, a random weeknight in 1985. Somehow it all seemed simpler. I can’t quite put my finger on just what one thing was different back then. I just want to go back there for one night and know about life now, to really live in those moments and appreciate them more. Although I might opt for Spotify instead of one of those cut-off homemade cassette tapes of mine…or not! Tough call.
A rare day off from work for a dentist appointment for a dentist that is closed on Friday’s (yes, I confirmed, hmmm). Ok, go sit at a coffee shop & write, finally. Get here, dig through my purse that ALWAYS has not one, but three pens! No pen. I’m being sent a message, but what?!
I am noticing how darn fast everything is, fast drivers, fast food, insta cart. I’m living in a new world. Paved by, well, my generation? What have we done?
We sit here now, some of us don’t fit quite right.
Observe. Write. Slow the F down. Laugh. Cry. Breathe. Read. Eat coffee cake & carry on.
I had a vision of sitting at a coffee shop & blogging. I’m doing it, without a pen. Heading home soon to check that off the list. Maybe that’s part my problem, I plan too much, today things did not go at all as planned. That could be the universe saying planning isn’t working.
Silly, right?? No one cares but I haven’t written in so long because I’m not sure what to write about!
I used to love the celebrity “what’s in my purse” feature in, I think, Us magazine…so…for fun, I’ll do a “what’s in my (very cool, ballerina pink) Telfar bag”!
As you can see in my photo, I have my essentials! Panama Jack mango lip balm & Naples Soap Company (a new fave!) luxe hand cream in Pura Vida. I discovered this store in Lakewood Ranch, FL. So many great scents to choose from!
My (prescription) sunglasses, Guess wallet, L’oreal mica lipstick (been buying this shade for years). Stop me if this is too boring. I am just happy to start writing a bit again.
I started a monthly journal club, Silk & Sonder (it got me during a 3 AM doom scroll, we’ve all been there I’m sure). One of my 3 goals for this week was to “write a blog post” and I didn’t want to fail.
So here you have it! Riveting, I know!
Back to your regularly scheduled programs and I can’t wait to post another blog real soon!
What’s in my lunchbag?? Wouldn’t you all like to know!! Its also pink, by the way! 🩷
I’ve been quietly in the background observing for this past month. I’m watching people. People come and go. People smiling in their vacation photos to somewhere fantastical, amazing. A drink. A meal. A sunset. People complaining about Donald Trump or something else. People in general are complaining about things. A sad observation, but an observation nonetheless. As a writer of this observation, I have a few things to write.
I think of Lucy from the Peanuts every morning, 5 cents please? Maybe that’s $1 now. Although I get nothing out of your complaining about things. Just a quick scroll past yet again another unsatisfied customer.
There needs to be a shift in this pattern. I’m not going to make a difference with writing these few words on my old-lady blog, but it’s my free space on my bingo card and I’d like to use it. Complaining has a place. However, working towards a change, a shift, possibly might make sense. I’m far from politically savvy, but sure, I see a lot of crap going on. Instead of sharing your next upsetting issue, post something positive, about how you, yes you, can change what you see. Send out a smile to all of us. A meal. A drink. A sunset.
I don’t know. Only thing I do know, is something has to start to change. Nothing changes, if nothing changes.
It’s fast out here, so fast. Technology is at the forefront, obviously I don’t live in a cave, but I feel like I do. AI, Chat GPT, social media exploding all around me – well if you want to follow a retro writer, you’ve found her. This is as far as I’m going. A little website, a few simple shares to Instagram and Facebook. I can’t go any faster. I don’t want to go any faster anymore. I thought I did, I thought I should, but it’s holding me up from just writing, so I don’t.
If you want to follow a daily wordle player who then group texts their score to their mom and sisters, yep, that’s where I top out, quite happily.
They say youth is wasted on the young, from a technology standpoint, I say go for it young ones. Have at it. You’ll find me here years from now, still at it, writing about life, ad free, sponsor-less, un-influencer-able (is that even a word??), not a podcaster, and you know what? … I’ll be all the craze for when you want a throwback to a simpler time. Come see me in 10 years, we’ll ‘chat’ the old fashioned way. Grab your Stanley Cup, sit with me and “Chat OLD”-en days!
I’ve never been a huge traveler, only a small handful of times for work, but mostly for pleasure…but the word “awkward” comes to mind when I travel. I envision myself as the savvy, hip lady, but the reality is so far from that it’s laughable.
Always very early, my 1st awkwardness, there’s a sweet spot between 2 1/2 hours early & stress rushing hoping you don’t miss your flight. I never hit that sweet spot. I sit here, in a sea of Hey Dudes & Skechers slip-ons, 3 or 4 bathroom trips in, still waiting for the gate to post on the board.
However, the older I get, the more important I think it is to stay in the game of flying. 2 weeks of pre trip anxiety, an odd night of packing for 2 or 3 days, a comfy leggings outfit & flannel for the possible too high a/c, a klanky walk through the small airport sundries shop, of course an overpriced Starbucks with just another 2 hours to go before boarding.
Traveling alone is good for my aging soul. I highly recommend you pack your 20 year old roller bag, I got mine at Sears luggage department back in the day, but it’s OK to ask the young flight attendant for help putting it in the overhead bin, I always do!
Your destination awaits! Safe travels! And on all these trips, so far security has not asked for the Kind bar in my purse, it always makes it through!
Looking through some old photos for something inspiring to jump out at me to write about. New York City always comes to mind. So much energy, inspiration, so diverse, or quiet in Central Park, street vendors, smells of hot dogs, pretzels, so many shops. I have plans of going back in November of this year for my 60th birthday. Not much planned exactly, except going there. I will figure the rest out when the time comes.
Anyways, the point was that I was looking back through some old photos I took there and this one jumped out today. I took it in a thrift shop. My focus was on the bright colors of the jacket. However, after looking at it closer and with a different intention, I see the bright colored jacket but below it I see several leopard pattern vintage coats. What I now see is the stand out of the bright colors to all the same coats right below it. I am drawn to this image now for different reasons. To be the standout in a sea of everything else that is the same. To be the bright colored coat.
With aging, I notice I am starting to lean more into this part of life. It’s a slow lean for me as I’ve always been the background character. I’m glad that I’m coming more out of that role. It’s happening naturally for me, not forced. I don’t try to be the life of the party and I’m not by any means, but I’m getting more comfortable putting myself out there. Just writing this post about these feelings surprises me.
Perhaps taking that photo 5 years ago, saving it for all this time, looking at it again today, maybe there was a deeper meaning for taking this. Be bright, be bold, be different. No one is really paying all that much attention to you. Be that colorful 80’s jacket in a sea of leopard pattern vintage coats. You might just like who you are becoming and for that I’m going to keep on doing what I love more than ever from here on out.
Some changes recently have come with some deep reflection on life as I knew it and life as it moves forward. I may not be alone in this reflection. I wanted to write it out while it was fresh in my mind – then I hope to change to a lighter blog post later in the week.
Yesterday was Easter. As I spoke to my Mom on the phone, she said ‘it’s your 60th Easter’ and she got choked up, which in turn got me choked up. Thanks Mom. I’m grateful I can still talk to my Mom, don’t get me wrong, but wow, the emotions are wild. I went through a box of pictures of holidays of past, in my childhood home — siting at a table with my Grandpa (gone), my Dad (gone), my sisters (not gone), my Mom (not gone), my childhood home (gone – well sold, it’s still there but I can’t walk through the front door or around to the back porch anymore), me (not gone, but moved to another state). OK, stay with me, this doesn’t end sad, I promise.
Grateful for my beautiful granddaughter who I’m so lucky to live close to now, grateful for my son, his amazing wife, their fantastic home. My home, my husband, all good, all alive. Missing my other son, my Mom (they live in another state). Missing something that isn’t tangible though, sights, sounds, smells of days gone by. I struggle to process all this change which happened in about a 2 year period for me, some by my choice, some not. While I love it here in Florida (thank you Sunshine State for bringing me absolutely gorgeous weather year-round & no state tax, you win there!), spring time and Easter in Connecticut were somehow a little different, but perhaps it wasn’t the state itself or the season, but the generation that is faded from that picture – Mom cooked up one hell of a meal, put out the white and blue china dishes every Easter, made a jell-o mold we used to make fun of, but it was really refreshing, there was the ceramic rabbit platter full of jelly beans and peeps, ok, not about all that – or is it? No, it’s not. It’s the missing puzzle piece to life right now that I keep searching for, I may never find it because the people on the face of that piece have drifted away. However, the old memories never go away while I’m busy making new memories. I’ll find what works, I’ll buy a Jell-O mold and get Mom’s recipe from her.
Anyone else feeling an emptiness and a fullness at the same time? I think we need to fill it with Jell-O. I told you I could turn this around and steer it away from sadness – the key is Jell-O. Mine has to be green, with pineapple chunks in it. Let’s continue the traditions, let’s keep the voices, faces and little dish of Jell-O going. Jell-O is the closest correlation I can make to life right now – it connects me to days gone by and days to come – it comes as a powder in a box, it changes to a liquid form, it becomes solid, you can mold it and add fruit, it jiggles and it makes me happy! Jell-O is life. I can even still make fun of it if I want, but it just might find a way to make me not miss everyone so much and for that, I remain grateful to Jell-O in all of its various life forms.
Sheils Writes 