A Simpler Time

I have been thinking quite a bit of what it was like when I was younger and didn't have to worry about adult responsibilities. When the biggest decision was whether to play Chinese jump-rope or hopscotch. Should we make chalk drawings or go on a walk to the "Grove", our local shopping locale.  What memories. Special, care- free days. Sundays spent with family not surfing unless you lived in California. Nothing was open on those Sunday afternoons; just Sunday School and dinner at 3 and then Lassie and Wonderful World of Disney. Safe sex was when you didn't get caught by your parents. Nobody came out of the closet unless they were searching for a lost shoe. No MasterCard or Visa, but my mom had a charge-a-plate. Discover was reserved for the Scouts and 4H clubs.

I miss those days. I see my grand-kids on crazy, dizzying schedules. How do we tell them to slow down, watch that sunrise/sunset. Yes, stop and smell the flowers and look for ladybugs. Spend a pleasant afternoon lying on your back and imagine the shapes the clouds are making and collect the lightening bugs on a summer night. What happened to Red Rover, Kick the Can, Freeze or Flashlight Tag  and Red Light/ Green Light? These are not replaced by Wii or Xbox. I have come to enjoy hearing the basketballs pounding the pavement and even the occasional wiffle hitting the siding.

I hope I never really grow up inside, my inner child. I want to remember all the great theme songs to those TV shows we knew by heart: Gilligan's Island, the Partridge Family, The Monkees. Black and white and only 4 channels to choose from. No remote control, that is what we kids were there for, to turn the huge knob and try to fine tune with the larger plastic wheel behind it. Remember the small dot left behind when it turned off? And how many out there stayed to watch how long it took to disappear? 

I will take my magic mirror now and look for my friends out there...I see Kathy and Nancy and Sandy and Karen and Marge and Chris and Cindy. And so many more who shared these great moments with me. Cherish these memories and pass them along to your kids and grand-kids when they come along. See you out on the lawn on our backs looking at the clouds. I think I see a camel, no its an elephant, nope, a dragon. Well, you get the idea!

A very good friend of mine sent me the following email:

Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan, or the dawn of Camelot.
There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me,

For Ike was in the White House in that land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.

We learned to gut a muffler, we washed our hair at dawn,
We spread our crinolines to dry in circles on the lawn..

We longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince,
And Eddie Fisher married Liz , and no one's seen him since.

We danced to 'Little Darlin,' and sang to 'Stagger Lee'
And cried for Buddy Holly in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Only girls wore earrings then, and 3 was one too many,
And only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean McKinney.

And only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see
A boy named George with Lipstick, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie, they never made it twice..

We didn't have a Star Trek Five, or Psycho Two and Three,
Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp.

We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr. T,
And Oprah couldn't talk yet, in the Land That Made Me, Me.
We had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe.

For youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never seen the rock band that was Grateful to be Dead,
And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson , and Zeppelins were not Led.

And Beatles lived in gardens then, and Monkees lived in trees,
Madonna was Mary in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars,
And babies might be bottle-fed, but they were not grown in jars.

And pumping iron got wrinkles out, and 'gay' meant fancy-free,
And dorms were never co-ed in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.

And hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea,
And rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Buicks came with portholes, and side shows came with freaks,
And bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks.

And Coke came just in bottles, and skirts below the knee,
And Castro came to power near the Land That Made Me, Me.

We had no Crest with fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,
We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea
Or prime-time ads for those dysfunctions in the Land That Made Me, Me.

There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill,
And fish were not called Wanda, and cats were not called Bill..

And middle-aged was 35 and old was fifty-three,
And ancient were our parents in the Land That Made Me, Me.

But all things have a season, or so we've heard them say,
And now instead of Maybelline we swear by Retin-A.
They send us invitations to join AARP,
We've come a long way, baby, from the Land That Made Me, Me.

So now we face a brave new world in slightly larger jeans,
And wonder why they're using smaller print in magazines..
And we tell our children's children of the way it used to be,
Long ago and far away in the Land That Made Me, Me.

If you didn't grow up in the fifties,
you missed the greatest time in history. 

Visiting Cancer Again

The many social media outlets are there to help with a variety of issues including, but of course not limited to, Cancer. One is drawn to what one needs to research or develop a support system to help them cope. Any disease or psychoses has one or more website and each website has a way for the anonymous member to communicate. This would be a message board, forum or private messaging. When I entered the term "Breast Cancer" into Google one afternoon, there were over 42 million results returned. Although I am sure many are duplicates and some are just out there to sell some miracle cure, I had found a few to be helpful without expecting any in return from its members except the occasional donation to help keep it fiscally sound.

I, however, did not find these websites particularly helpful to my situation. They all dealt with people who are Survivors, who have survived the ordeal of cancer and are still living.

By comparison, the term "BRCA" (Breast Cancer Gene) returned 145.000 results, narrowing my search for information further. FORCE, Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered showed up fourth on the list. So I wandered over to www.facingourrisk.org and checked it out when I was first told I carried the genetic mutation known as BRCA2.

Ok, this blog has a title about Cancer. Where was I going with this?

Yes, here is the thing. I recently had a conversation on instant messaging with a woman I met through breastcancer.org, also known to some of its participants as "BCO". We had met in the real world several years ago with some other women from BCO at an informal get-together for lunch. She is a breast cancer survivor. Last year, it revisited her life. She caught it early and had another mastectomy and reconstruction. The oncologist has suggested to her to take Tamoxifen to help suppress any wandering cancer cells.

She told me that she gave up on the breast cancer sites because she felt there was too much "gloom and doom" and all she wanted to know was what others experienced as side effects to the Tamoxifen. I sent her to look at FORCE and if she couldn't find the topic, post about it herself. The conversation circled around my experience and I told I took it as a preventive measure after finding out I am a previvor. She had no idea what I was talking about so I gave her a short version definition.

For those inquiring minds out there, you can educate yourself as well as others about the word!

I am what FORCE (Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered) calls a "PREVIVOR".

By definition found on the FORCE website:

Cancer previvors are individuals who are survivors of a predisposition to cancer but who haven’t had the disease. This group includes people who carry a hereditary mutation, a family history of cancer, or some other predisposing factor. The term specifically applies to the portion of our community that has its own unique needs and concerns separate from the general population, but different from those already diagnosed with cancer.

FORCE coined the term previvor in 2000. Since then, the term has been adopted by many high-risk women, healthcare providers and researchers, and was named by Time magazine as one of its top 10 buzzwords of 2007.

As always, I feel so thankful for all that FORCE has done for me and my family. I am glad to pass on information and direct people to its website. I cannot help the entire world but I am doing what I can, one person at a time, in my small corner!

Love and hugs,
Beth

The Past Year Review

I have now passed the mark on being 50! Pretty uneventful. Nothing happened to change the world just because one more person is now eligible for AARP. I gained no more wisdom than I had the previous 49 years. I have not written the Great American Novel, hosted a cooking show or found a cure for anything.

Here is what I did glean from my past Half Century and this year:

1. I remember to recite the "Serenity Prayer" when vexed. In the time it takes to say it, I am either no longer at odds or calm enough to deal with it.

2. The speed limit sign on the Garden State Parkway is just a very mild suggestion to NJ motorists.

3. There is no way to stop, alleviate or slow down the aging process. We must grow old gracefully if we can and spend your hard-earned money on helping others if you are so fortunate as to have that kind of income. (My apologies to Dr. B!)

4. PAY IT FORWARD! If someone helped you, please remember to try and do the same for someone else. This does not have to be lauded to the public on Facebook, Twitter or anywhere else on the Internet. If you did it, savor the self-knowledge.

5. The phrase my dad loved to use, "Never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig", echoes in my mind at this year's end. In other words, I learned to pick my battles much better. I still make mistakes with this but find it easier to sleep at night.

6. Saying good-bye to friends as they become Angels in our midst is harder than I thought. Two women who bravely fought Cancer have been laid to rest. I remember how they touched my life and impacted it so well. Goodbye Caryn and Janet. You are missed.

7. There is no way to argue with teenagers; refer back to #5!

8. We are all capable of doing great things. As a positive example, I have a friend from high school who participated in the Iron Man event and she did exceptionally well. Another has made a name for himself in the surgical oncology field and has saved countless lives of our fellow alumni and friends. Going above and beyond is admirable to strive towards.

9. I learned how to blog, tweet, use the Nook and NookColor and develop a website!

10. Read a book not in your usual repertoire. Flex those brain cells. Treat them like your muscles; you lose them if you don't use them!


11. Finally, I realized that nobody will make things happen except for YOU. The best advocate is your own voice. NEVER stop being proactive in regard to your health and enrich your life with knowledge. As we say in Judaism, "Be a woman of valor."

As always, I still like to promote FORCE on my blog and will continue to do so. If just one person's life can be made into a longer one, I have served a great purpose and higher purpose. Please share any of the links on the FORCE website with others.

The FORCE website is a wealth of information. This link shares a brief, very clear overview of how our "genes" work. Read on ....Hereditary Cancer and Cancer Genetics

Love and hugs,
Beth

The Countdown to 50

I will be extremely honest in saying that turning 50 is not the event I am expecting to treasure. The phrase, "It is only a number", has been thrown about carelessly by those that have either already passed the mark or really don't care about you anyway! Thanks to my 16 year-old son, I have been doomed to think about this as turning a Half Century. For some reason, I cannot get a firm hold on this. In my small experience, for these first 50 years, I have witnessed so much change personally and in the world.

Should I point out the obvious? Yeah, why not? This is my blog! I have never really blogged before. This is another change in the universe. People can write almost anything about every subject under the sun and feel important doing it. We can all feel like the one and only person writing about a particular theme. Our fifteen minutes of fame can continue as long as our fingers can tap out this dance of information. And like that tree falling in the forest, do we know if our words are being read or just silently taking up space on the Internet. I would hope at one person other than myself who is benefiting from my spew of of emotion and feelings.

I got off the track. I have witnessed the Space Race, Cola Wars, wars fought on foreign soil, dozens of Olympics some of which were too sad to remember, adding machines to personal computers, computers that talk back to you and my favorite: meals in minutes.

Being a foodie, I really love to cook and, to the detriment of my health at times, I love to eat what I cook. Modern technology can just keep to itself. Nothing replaces a slow simmering stew or soup, a beloved brisket, a flamboyant dessert or sumptuous buffet set out for family and friends. Entertaining can be so much fun and fulfilling when I hear the compliments and kudos bandied about. Fortunately, Larry loves to have guests too. And he helps to clean up which is the bane of my culinary existence. I just hate that part! So where does a microwave fit into all of this? I can melt a stick of butter or hunk of chocolate without burning. Quickly warming up the leftovers for late arrivals to the dinner table keeps them from burning in the oven. I am sure there are much more useful tasks for the white box on my counter than holding my recipe box and various travel mugs. So far, I do not see it as an integral part of my cooking in general. The worst of it is warming up a cooled cup of coffee...yuck!

So, this new half century will commence on Christmas Day, 2009. I am feeling nostalgic. I expect there will be many blogs devoted to days in the past. I am hoping to chronicle my foray into the Internet experience as I grow older and maybe wiser. I hope to avoid repeating my mistakes from the first 49 years. But I know me pretty well. I know I will!