Journey of a Lifetime

I know it's not healthy to have a "good day" or "bad day" based on the numbers on the scale, but I can't help but feel happiness when the scale tells me I lost weight since my last weigh in, or sadness when I have gained.  It changes my whole outlook on life for hours, even days. Only those who have struggled with their weight for most of their adult life can understand that feeling. Yes, I know it's wrong, but for me that's life and it's real.

I have been "thin" only twice in my adult life. And when I say thin I mean in the lower half of the healthy weight range some experts somewhere calculated. Most of my adult life I have actually been at least 10% above the healthy weight range, or in other words, obese.  I hate that word. 

The first time I was thin was the year before I married my first husband, when I was in my early 20's. I give credit to doing Yoga and walking several miles per day, and constantly counting calories. Of course I still felt "not thin enough" because I was larger than most of my friends and roommates, my sisters and most of the other young young women I saw every day.  I was at that weight only a short time until I married, then I slowly gained about 15 pounds, even though I watched what I ate and continued to walk and do Yoga.

The second time was during the few years after I gave birth for the last time, in my late 20's. When my youngest was 6 months old I started Weight Watchers and within six months I lost 30 pounds, reaching my pre-set goal.  Within the next several months I lost another 10 pounds and was told by WW to stop losing because I was at the lowest end of my healthy range.  It was fun to be called "too skinny" for once in my life. My sisters told me my arms looked like Hollywood arms.  My friend told me my protruding collar bones made me look like I was sick.  I loved being referred to as the "the skinny sister". Even when my husband told me "You are almost there, but not quite" I felt good being thin.

Me at 29 years old, at my Weight Watcher
goal weight, a healthy size 9.

Me in the pink skirt, at 30 years old, 10 pounds under my
Weight Watcher goal weight.

For about 3 years I was consumed by staying thin. I went to Weight Watchers every week to weigh in and get motivation, making sure I wore light weight clothes and used the bathroom before I stepped on the scale, to weigh my absolute lightest. I wrote down and calculated everything I ate in my little diary and planned every meal. I had a magnet on my refrigerator that read "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels". I wore a button that read "Please don't feed the Weight Watcher".  I was proud to be a "Life Time Member" of Weight Watchers -- just because I had reached and maintained my goal weight for 6 weeks. I swore I would never be fat again. A pound or two gain made me feel horrible about myself and my ability to maintain something good.

But on the plus side I drank lots of water, I ate balanced meals (less bread, lots of veggies, fruit and only lean meats), and I kept a food journal. I felt good, I felt healthy, I felt beautiful (unless I gained a pound or two).

Then over the next 10 to 15 years I slowly gained back all of the weight I had lost on Weight Watchers -- plus more. WW had changed their plan, I moved away from the local meeting, the meeting leader quit and I didn't like the new one, I was working full time and going to college, I had kids to take care of, I realized I was sensitive to artificial sweeteners and they caused me to have joint pain, I had a sleep disorder.  Boy could I rationalize that weight gain. Of course I dieted.  Of course I started exercise programs. I felt good as I lost weight, I felt bad when I gained. Over and over and over.

I also became depressed and started taking an antidepressant, which caused me to gain 30 pounds in six months. I weighed 10 pounds more than I did on the day I gave birth to both my daughters.

One day I complained about the medication making me gain weight.  My young daughter heard me and asked, "Mommy, why are you taking the medicine?"

I told her "For depression".

She replied, "But doesn't it make you more depressed that it made you fat?"

Well yes, child, thank you for the insight! It also made me fuzzy and unfocused. I was 40 years old and in the worst shape of my life, physically and emotionally. I needed to do something. So I went off the medication and tried natural therapies, exercise, healthier foods, counseling and prayer.   I tried Weight Watchers again but the new plan just didn't help me lose. Even if I was totally faithful to the plan I would struggle to lose just a few pounds. I pulled myself out of the depression but lost only 10 pounds of the weight I had gained because of the antidepressant.  For the next five years I felt bad about myself, I started and failed at diets, and started and quit exercise programs.  I felt good as I lost weight, bad as I gained. Over and over and over.

When I turned 45 I had a break through.  I decided I wanted to be healthier so I joined Balance Life, a circuit gym a few blocks from my house at the time.  I visited it at least four times per week, sometimes five, and worked out for 30-45 minutes per day.  I drank lots of water.  I ate healthier foods and kept a food journal.  I often walked there to get some added exercise in.  I loved feeling better,  younger, more vibrant.  I also loved losing 30 pounds in six months and looking better, younger and more vibrant.

But then I had a hysterectomy and had to stop exercising for six weeks.  Six weeks in the middle of winter.  Six weeks of not working, not working out, not eating well.  Six weeks of gaining weight.  But after six weeks I went back and took off a few of the pounds I gained while I was convalescing, but not all.

Then my husband of 24 years left me -- for a younger, much, much thinner woman.  I didn't care to eat. My stomach hurt too much to eat. When I did eat I ate just a few bites because the food had no taste. Besides not eating I walked all the time. All the time. Instead of curling up in a ball and crying about my loss, I walked. I walked and walked and walked.

I quickly lost the weight I had gained after my hysterectomy plus a little bit more.  I was not only thinner, I also had better muscle tone than I had since my 20's, thanks to working out and walking so much. Even when I watched television I exercised -- walking, dancing and jumping around in place during the commercials.

Me at 47 years old, soon after I met my current husband,
feeling fit and comfortable in my own skin, if not "thin". All the charts still had me in the "obese" range.

I considered myself in the best shape of my life.  Ironically I weighed about what I weighed after I gave birth to my daughters, right before I started Weight Watchers almost 20 years earlier.  I was still 10 pounds above what the experts considered my healthy range.  I was till wearing a size 14.  But I felt beautiful. People told me I glowed. Men, young and old, showed me attention.

Then I started dating my current husband and when we married just seven months later my life changed drastically.  I moved out of town into the country, I had much less time of my own to exercise, my diet changed because my new family ate much differently than I did and it was too difficult to make meals for them and myself, my new schedule didn't allow for regular exercise, it was more difficult to walk in the country than it was in town. Balance Life closed. My good habits didn't just slip away, they fell away with a huge clunk and I began gaining weight.

The summer after we married, about 5 pounds heavier than
when we married, and feeling so bad about gaining weight

In the last 7 1/2 years since we married I have slowly gained and lost, gained and lost, and gained within a range of 25-30 pounds. In other words, at this moment I weigh 18 pounds more than what I weighed on my first date with my husband, while two summers ago I weighed almost 10 pounds less than now, and the winter before about what I weigh now, etc.  Up and down, up and down, depending on the seasons, depending on how healthy I am eating, depending on what exercise I'm getting.

I lost 12 pounds for my daughter's wedding but I was still
20 pounds above a "healthy weight"

I gained some of it back later that summer, but was still 30 pounds
less than my all time high

So after all these years of watching my weight go up and down I still know, when I weigh less I feel better about myself and I'm more likely to get out of the house and spend time with friends. I realize I weigh less and feel better because I'm exercising more and I'm eating more better foods. When I weigh more I tend to want to stay at home. I understand that I weigh more because I'm not as active and I'm not making good food choices.  I know the the cause and affect yet it's difficult for me to get out of the cycle and back on track to better health.  I'm so tired of the cycle of ups and downs, feeling good and feeling bad, starting over to have my good habits fade away, that I honestly feel sick to my stomach when I think about "starting over" with logging and counting everything and calorie I eat and starting another exercise program. I've done it so many times. Also, I realize I now need to eat even less and exercise even more to lose weight than I did in my 20's and 30's, and that's terribly discouraging.

Me, on the left, at 52 1/2, feeling bloated and overly plump
next to my sisters, about 12 pounds from my all time high weight.

But I'm sorry, the "If you are tired of starting over, then don't quit" adage that the constantly-fit people have plastered on their Facebook pages and Pinterest boards make me want to hit someone.  I don't quit consciously; I quit, or let my good habits slip away, because of real life circumstances that keep me from moving in the direction I want to go.  I really, truly try to keep motivated and moving.  However, sometimes it's just too difficult to plan every meal and every movement that will make me healthier, to write down everything I eat, to plan every meal, to schedule time to workout every day -- and that's what it takes to keep me fit, I have learned. Sometimes the stress of trying to fit it all in is too overwhelming and too confining, and I can't keep it up. And to be perfectly honest I don't really enjoy most exercise and I really, really love food.

Me just 10 pounds under my highest weight ever, not how I wanted to look at Alyssa's wedding last summer.

We all have priorities and I guess getting sleep, time with family and friends, earning a living and maintaining an appropriately clean and organized home, and enjoying good tasting food is more important to me that being thin. However, I know that being thinner and healthier will make all the above easier and more fulfilling. Having better health will have a positive impact on all areas of my life, yet I simply can't keep up, on a regular basis, the habits I need to stay healthier. Can you tell I'm conflicted?

Me last fall, feeling really bloated and plump.

Anyway, I know there are many women like me who struggle as I struggle, and there are many women who are unlike me and staying fit and trim comes easy to them or they enjoy it. They love to exercise, I don't. They don't mind the sacrifice, I do. I wonder, do they never have self-esteem issues? Does staying fit and trim mean they constantly feel good about themselves? Are they generally happier with themselves and their lives? Does being fit and trim make everything else in their lives that much easier and fulfilling for them?

Reading back on what I've just written I notice I started out writing about being "thin" and I've ended writing about being "fit" and healthy. I know I'm never going to be as thin as I was when I was 14, or 22, but I also know I can be a reasonably fit, healthy 55 year old if I create some healthy balance in my life, and that's what I need to strive for -- healthy, good tasting foods and enjoyable physical activity as much as possible. I know by now I'm not going to stick to a weight loss plan that requires me to go overboard by cutting calories and eliminating foods, writing down everything I eat and scheduling a specific amount of exercise every day.  I'm just not going to do it.  I know that by now.  I also know my weight does not define who I am, at least in my eyes. I've got to be happy with who I am, inside and out.

Me at 14 years old, when I thought I was fat.
I wish I could go back and tell myself to enjoy myself
and appreciate how I felt and looked.

           
So a month ago, on January 2, I decided, "It's time". I'm going to be 55 in May and I don't want to feel and look like this on my birthday. I signed up for the online Weight Watcher program. I've been faithful to the program for a month and I have easily lost 11 pounds. The ap is easy to use, the food I am eating satisfies me.

Then this week I decided to fall back to a lifestyle program that I learned 35 years ago and have fallen back to many times.  Yoga. I have decided to practice it religiously, daily, for 6 months.  Already I am feeling lighter, more relaxed, more flexible, more poised and stronger. I've also noticed my thoughts and focus have changed.  I'm not letting social media posts bother me so much. I'm not reacting to negative things in such a negative way. My outlook is brighter.

I'll keep you updated and I invite you to join me in my journey!

Leaning Into the Christmas Season

I miss Christmas. And church too. I realized this yesterday when I Googled images of Advent wreathes for the seminary's Advent service bulletin I was asked to design. As soon as I saw photos of Advent candles, with twinkling lights and religious icons in the darkened backgrounds, I had a very distinct and comforting memory of sitting in a pew at Resurrection Lutheran Church, quietly waiting with anticipation as someone from the congregation lit the first Advent candle with a long-stemmed, brass lighter, thin curls of gray smoke spiraling up, up toward the high ceiling. It seemed like the whole congregation held their breath until the candle actually lit--and stayed lit. An advent hymn played softly on the organ and our pastor read a scripture in his deep voice. I remember thinking, "Just four weeks until Christmas!"  It was a quiet calm before the most exciting day of the year, one that would be filled with cookies and candy, gifts and torn wrapping paper, bright-colored Christmas lights and loud carols, family all laughing and talking over each other.

Each Sunday of Advent was like that, anticipation growing stronger as Christmas was another week closer. Christmas Eve was the most special, the most exciting--yet comforting--most magical service, when the larger, white center candle was finally lit.  The Christmas Eve candlelight service, when children wore angels' gowns and halos, with the scent of burning wax filling our heads, flickering flames reflected in the huge stained glass window, a duet of organ and piano music keeping tempo as the congregation sang the first verse and chorus of the most familiar Christmas hymns. I followed the bulletin closely to see how close we were to finishing, because as soon as the service was over we would hurry home to open a few family presents, before going to bed and lying wide awake, wondering what we would find under the Christmas tree the next morning.

Today I'm obsessing about those Advent wreathes and candles, the smell of evergreen, candle wax, and smoke, when the flaming wicks were put out with that bell-shaped candle snuffer at the end of the service. I don't know if I knew back then the significance of the Advent wreath and candles. If I did, I have forgotten. But yesterday, when the images of those candles ignited my longing for both Christmas and church, I Googled the meaning:

From Wikipedia:

"Advent wreaths are circular, representing God's infinite love and are usually made of evergreen leaves, which "represent the hope of eternal life brought by Jesus Christ". Within the Advent wreath are candles that generally represent the four weeks of the Advent season as well as "the light of God coming into the world through the birth of Jesus Christ" although each of the candles has its own significance as well; individually, the candles specifically symbolize the Christian concepts of hope (week one), peace (week two), joy (week three) and love (week four) in many traditions. Many Advent wreaths also have a white candle in the centre to symbolize the arrival of Christmastide, sometimes known as the "Christ candle." It is lit on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day."

After reading this I was reminded of why I don't like Christmas anymore. The holiday has morphed into something so big, so ugly, so busy, so hectic, so removed from Advent and what the Advent wreath and candles symbolize.

The season has become a two-month long hectic marathon, completely overrun with big sales, shopping trips, present wrapping, work parties, home decorating, and school programs. Parents have become completely stressed out thinking they have to buy everything on their kids' lists for Santa.  It's become rush, rush, rush, buy, buy, buy, followed by the fear of disappointing the ones we love.

Maybe it was that way back then. Maybe my parents were doing all that running and stressing, spending two months trying to create a perfect Christmas for us girls.  But I doubt it. I think the countdown to Christmas started closer to December 1st, the week the first advent candle, the candle of hope, was lit.

I miss the Christmas I used to know, a calmer, shorter, holiday season filled with candle flames, evergreen boughs, and "Silent Night" sung on a dark, snowy night, with time to rest and focus on what really matters. I'm thinking I can have that kind of Christmas again, and I can share it with others who miss it too. All we need to do is "lean into the Light" a bit, take some time away from the hustle and bustle, find a space where we can focus on the concept of hope, peace, joy and love, and guard ourselves from getting too caught up in the frenzied, commercial Christmas hype. Even if you  decide to "do it all" or "do it big", because you enjoy that and love the Christmas hoopla, I hope you chose to take a few moments to sit in a quiet place, light a candle, and meditate on the true meaning of the season.

Job Search Advice

For nine years I worked in a college career center and had come to assume there is a

"common sense" when it comes to job searches, but an experience I had eight years ago

taught me differently.  I was working in the front office of a small manufacturing facility in

Hagerstown when the owners advertised for a few open production positions.  In just three

days I handed out and accepted over 300 applications, which meant I had the opportunity

to observe and interact with over 300 applicants.  One would think the people desperate for

jobs would realize they should offer a good first impression and should avoid putting any

obstacles in the prospective employer's path, but I learned that's not so.

Here are a few of my thoughts about what I observed, and some advice:

1. Don't bring your family with you. Don't let your kids run around the waiting room, climb

on your lap, and play all the ring tones on your phone. Don't let your wife help you fill out

the application.

2. Read the sign on the door, and also the one posted on the window (and also the ad in the

newspaper) that tells you when you can and can not apply. If you come during a time when

you aren't supposed to apply (because the company is short staffed at that time), don't ask

if you can anyway. Don't pretend you don't see the sign or that you can't read it. Employers

don't want employees who can't follow directions or read, or who expect special treatment.

3. Don't complain if you are told you have to complete the application in the waiting room,

not in your car (we want to make sure you, not your girlfriend, can complete it). Employers

need to make sure their prospective employees can read and write. They don't want

employees who complain when they are given instructions.

4. Don't complain if there are fewer chairs than people in the waiting room and you have to

stand up to complete the application, especially if the 200 people before you didn't

complain. Employers don't want employees who are negative or who won't put effort into

their work.

5. Do not wear clothing with paint splatters or grease stains, or that smell strongly of

smoke, body odor, or gasoline. Please wipe the mud, or whatever that brown stuff is, off

your feet before entering. The other 10 people standing with you in the waiting room will

be grateful if you wear fresh clothing.

6. Don't wear t-shirts that advertise nude dancing or that have pictures of marijuana plants.

Also don't dress as if you are heading to the night club. Wear clean, neat clothing that you

would wear to work. For a factory job that might mean jeans and a plain t-shirt, polo, or

button down shirt, with clean tennis shoes or work boots.

7. Don't ask if you really need phone numbers for your references. Don't ask if you really

need to fill in the employment history if you have your resume. Make it as easy as possible

for the employer to scan your work history and contact your references. Don't put any

obstacles in their way.

8. Don't ask the employer to make copies of your resume, work permits, certifications, test

scores, or anything else. Bring extra copies of all these to attach to your application.

Employers really appreciate these supplements, but not when they have to pay to copy

them.

9. Don't ask for a phone book so you can look up the phone numbers for your references or

former employers. Have your list of references and employers (with the dates you worked

there) and their phone numbers ready ahead of time. Employers want employees who

think ahead and come prepared.

10. Don't ask if the employer will hire someone who has committed a felony, but if the

question is asked on the application, answer it honestly. Don't leave the answer blank

because the employer will assume you have committed a felony and are trying to hide it.

11. Don't be rude in any way. Smile, say please, say thank you. A person who has handed

out and accepted hundreds of applications in three days will not appreciate rudeness and

may bury rude applicant's materials at the bottom of the pile.

12. Don't call the very next day to check on your application. Don't call every day for the

next 2 weeks, 2 months, or 6 months. When you turn in your application, ask when the

employer expects to begin making calls for interviews. At that time, call once to check on

your application. If you haven't heard in a week, call again. If the employer hires other

people but not you, or hasn't hired anyone yet still advertises for the position, ask the

employer to let you know what qualifications you are lacking. Quit calling.

13. Don't expect "I really, really need a job bad!" to trump the qualifications of all the good

applicants, then get mad when others with direct experience are hired and you are not.

In summary, dress in fresh, neat clothing. Be prepared. Follow directions. Smile and be

polite. Don't complain and do anything to take up the employer's time and effort. Make

your first impression that of a model employee, and don't do anything to make the

employer want to throw your application in the "no" pile as soon as you walk

out the door.

Reflections on 2015

Last year at this time, as I looked forward to 2015, I said I wanted my theme for the coming year to be "Stretch". I posted on Facebook:

"I want to stretch while doing Yoga and while waking up from restful sleep, stretch to reach beyond my physical/emotional/intellectual comfort zones, stretch my hard-earned dollars, and stretch my mind. Unfortunately I need stretch pants as I end the year."

And stretch I did, forward and backward, up and down. Sometimes I stretched like a lazy cat in a ray of sunshine, sometimes like a tense rubber band ready to snap (actually I snapped a few times).

It's been both a horrible and wonderful 2015, a year that has stretched us every which way imaginable. The Dishman family said a tragic goodbye to their mother and grandmother, Louanna, and then too soon after my Bruns girls said goodbye to their grandmother, Marjorie Violet. Losing two mothers-in-law within a month certainly stretched my capacity for supporting others in their grief, while simultaneously dealing with my own emotions. We said a tearful goodbye to a beloved family home, the Stone House, the hub of Esker activity during Jubilee Days and Holiday meals. Craig had a health scare that changed our vision of our future for a while, I had a crazy mishap with a chicken bone that is now straining me financially as the bills roll in. Craig's dad continues to battle health problems and missing his wife. Broken appliances (a "shocking" experience with one), a windstorm that caused damage to our property, expensive car repairs...I think our budget has been stretched well beyond our comfort zone this year.

But life goes on in wonderful ways. My daughter moved into a beautiful new home and a few months later we learned we are going to be grandparents--in just about 6 weeks! One daughter got engaged to a great guy. Another daughter started a new exciting job. A niece got married and had a fabulous family celebration, another niece graduated from college, a nephew started a career in film. My brother-in-law returned safely from a tour of duty. All my sisters' husbands found work. My parents are healthy and active. We have so much to be grateful for.

Personally I found so much happiness kayaking on Summit Lake and making new, amazing friends along the way. That kayak was the best birthday and Mothers Day gift I could have ever, ever received! There is no better feeling than floating on that lake with my friends and anticipating the beauty of misty sunrises or brilliant sunsets. I stretched beyond my comfort zones by facing my fear of water and having adventures on my own (loading and unloading my kayak all by myself). I also found great pleasure in taking photos with my iPhone and sharing them with others. I continue to love my job and I look forward to spending time with my husband and family. I've also enjoyed being a new dog owner -- well mostly. Oh, and the recent gift of a ukulele is stretching my mind and fingers in delightful, yet sometimes frustrating, ways!

I think my word for 2016 will be "FOCUS". I want to focus on appreciating the little things in life, on being in the present moment. I also want to focus on getting my home in order, to declutter, organize and spruce it up a bit. Of course I want to focus on improving my health -- losing weight would be nice but my goal is to be healthy and active, so I can continue meeting the needs of my family and enjoying live. I also want to focus on my finances, cutting back on wasteful spending and thinking more about saving. Of course I would like to focus with my iPhone and take a lot more pictures, and focus on being more creative, along with my fun and creative friends. Most of all I want to focus on being an attentive Grammy Julie to baby Mason! I can't wait! 2016 is going to be an awesome year.

All I Want for Christmas...

What I want for Christmas, before I can decorate, shop, wrap, and cook is for all children, no matter what their background, to be treated the same and given food and shelter -- whether they are born in the US, Mexico, Syria or anywhere else; whether they are Christian, Muslim, atheist or whatever; whether they are on welfare, are orphans, or their parents are considered criminals.

It’s so easy for us to label groups as “Refugees” or “Homeless” or “Illegal Immigrants”, to put ourselves above and beyond them, but most of the PEOPLE in these groups are children. Hungry, cold, frightened children, living in tents, boxes, cars, under bridges, with no food or clean water.

For a moment, think of your own child. Imagine being forced from your home for any reason. It burns, a tornado hits, you lose your job and the bank takes it, someone forces you to leave your homeland because of your political or religious beliefs. It can happen – don’t think that it can’t.

Imagine your child cries in hunger or thirst and you have no food or clean water to give it. Imagine it shivers with the cold and you have no dry blanket to cover it, no bed for it to lie on. Imagine it rains or snows and you have no shelter for its head, not even an umbrella. Imagine it’s sick and you have no medicine to give, not even a Band-Aid to cover a bloody knee. These are the refugees, the homeless, the immigrants, and no matter how good, responsible, hard-working, American or Christian you think you are, this could be your child.

Labels, borders and boundaries are man-made, created and perpetuated by us. Yes us. A hungry child is a hungry child, no matter where it lives, no matter who its parents are. Before you buy that next Christmas decoration you don’t really need, or that gift your loved one doesn’t really need, consider helping a child, any child. The season of Christmas, the season of Love and Light, should know no boundaries. Real love knows no boundaries.

Back in Time After Time

I hold a 305 year old book in my hands and feel its old leather binding flake and crumble. The front cover falls off, and I know the back cover eventually will also, as I gently press the book down on the glass and I try to get a good scan of all 650 pages. It kills me to know I am destroying the rare book while scanning it, in an effort to preserve and share its contents. Paper, ink and leather from 1710 England. I kind of worry about breathing in its dust. 

I wonder who else has held this treasure in their hands. Who were they? What was life like for them then? Could they even conceive that someone might hold this book in their hands more than 300 years later? Could they even dream of the technology that is allowing me to scan and share it today? What would they think about life here if they were suddenly transported here? What would they think that a library was going to throw their book away, but it was saved by an elderly Quaker man who recognized a treasure, then brought it to a professor at a Quaker seminary, who asked me to scan and preserve it?

I hope that a relic from the past will fall out of the pages, a hand written note or a piece of ribbon, or something else that served as a book mark. But I realize while turning from page to page that no one else has actually read this book, at least not the entire thing, because there are pages that have been cut improperly and never separated. I can't read it myself because it's in Spanish, but the writing is beautiful.  I know it's about religion, and I know a Quaker wrote the words in the late 1600's, then the words were translated to Spanish and printed 1000 times and shipped or hand delivered to Quakers, to help spread the message to other lands or to preserve the message.  Maybe I'll have to try to read the original English version someday. 

As I sit in a Quaker seminary in 2015, in a building built in the 1870s and later named for the author of the book, I want to randomly pick a page and read what it says, to see if the centuries old text speaks to me today.  Using my iPhone I try to translate some of it but the app translates "Tembladores" as "Shaker" instead of "Quaker", so I laugh and doubt the validity of the translation, but I search for more information about it. I look for it's value on eBay but can't find this original edition, just later printings. I'm interrupted when I get a text from my daughter at school, reminding me of her upcoming doctor appointment.  

I get on my work computer to Google a better translation but get distracted and see on Facebook that today is "Back to the Future Day", or the future date Marty McFly and Doc had programmed into their time machine in the movie "Back to the Future II".

I haven't watched the movie for a while so I don't remember the specifics of why they chose this date and what happened while they were "here", but I do recall there were many futuristic gadgets and clothing items. I think I'll have to watch the movie with my family this evening, if we have it on DVD. I'm sure it's on Netflix but our Internet is too slow on Dishman Hill for it to stream without constant buffering.

Now I'm trying to think back to October of 1985, when "Back to the Future II" takes place, and what I was doing, or what life was like for me then. Did I imagine what my life would be like in 2015?  I was 23, married less than a year, and we had just moved from our one-bedroom apartment to a 2 bedroom rental home in a small town in northern Indiana.  We were really curious about all the "primitive" Amish living near us because there were none like them in our hometown of Hagerstown. I was working part-time in retail and the clothes I wore to work had huge shoulder pads and I tried to make my hair big. My husband was an accountant for a telephone company. He wore a suit and tie to work every day. He shined his shoes once a week.


We drove used cars -- the Monte Carlo had an 8-track player, the gray Honda was basic but got good gas mileage and was practical. Our favorite TV show was the cutting edge Miami Vice and we made sure we were home when it came on, or we set the video player to tape it so we could watch it later, but we usually forgot and had to wait for reruns. We had a phone with a cord -- it hung on our wall -- and we paid for long distance calls, which meant we had to limit our contact with our parents and friends. We felt isolated 3 hours from home. I think we bought an answering machine so we could get important messages while we were out.


We didn't own a computer although my husband sometimes used one at work to print reports; he used an adding machine all the time. At home we had a calculator, a nice expensive one my husband bought in college. I had a Polaroid camera but was very careful about how many pictures I took because the film was pretty expensive. I bought a disc camera sometime around that time and loved taking the disc to the drug store to get developed, then going back a week later to see how my pictures turned out -- only a few of them were worth putting in a photo album, the rest were stuck back in the envelope and into a box somewhere. I was learning how to cook using my microwave and crock pot. We each had an alarm clock next to our sides of the bed.  I think mine was digital but my husband's was one of those flip radio alarm clocks that clicked every minute as the next number tumbled over. We had a small stereo and a boom box that played cassette tapes.

We looked forward to having 2 or 3 children sometime in the next 5 years, and assumed we would work our way up the ladder in our careers and own a nicer, larger home and nicer cars, and hopefully travel around the country someday. But other than that I don't think we thought too much about what life would look like 30 years into the future. We couldn't even imagine being that old!

I remember a book I borrowed from the library when I was living there in Goshen. It was written by a Quaker Oats heiress about her life of luxury and all her travels from 1906 until the 1950's. Even during the depression her family had plenty of money because Quaker Oats was inexpensive and "stuck to your ribs", which meant it was a staple in most households when times were tough. I marveled at how much our world had changed since she was a small girl -- little things like deodorant and bigger things like having to crank a car to get it started, traveling across the country on steam trains, and across the ocean on steam ships.  Her life seemed so romantic back then.  I had never heard the term Quaker in any other context than Quaker Oats.

Thirty years later I laugh when I get calls that are meant for Quaker Oats. Even with today's technology people get wrong information -- and they can use it too easily, unfortunately.

Thirty years later I have a different husband, something I never imagined, and I live back in Hagerstown. Between the two of us we have 5 kids and we keep in contact with them and our parents and friends via cell phones and e-mail.  We even play games with them at a distance using our cell phones. My daughter texts me ultrasound pictures of the baby she is carrying. We don't use alarm clocks, we use our cell phones.  We don't have a camera because our cell phones take and share pictures so easily. I use my phone as a calculator too. We use our phones and tv to listen to all the music we used to listen to back in the 70's and 80's. We're going to a Peter Frampton concert this weekend; he was hot in the 70's but barely heard of in the 80's, so it's nice he's made a comeback. My husband's favorite old tv show is Miami Vice and he often watches it on DVD -- it makes him think of the good old days, I guess.

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I still live modestly and drive a used gray Honda. My career never flourished and I make just double what I made 30 years ago, which isn't much when you consider inflation, but I love my work and I've had wonderful experiences.  The none-stressful job leaves me time, space and energy to focus on my passion of iPhone photography -- I can take, edit and print beautiful photos from my phone.

I still have Amish neighbors because an Amish community moved to Hagerstown several years ago. When I see them with their plain clothes and horse and buggies, or working on their farms, I imagine their life is very much like the life of Quakers in the 1700's, although I often see their young people using cell phones and playing volleyball.

I still borrow books from the library, but I sometimes download them and read them on my "antiquated" Kindle.  I can't imagine life without real books. I'll always love old books especially -- their smell, the feel of the old paper.

This old book from 1710 makes me think and wonder. It's old and smelly, and it's falling apart, but it's full of intention, full of history, full of some kind of good energy intended for future generations, and I feel special to have held it in my hands before it's gone for good. When I'm done scanning the book, a professor will e-mail the pdf of the Spanish translation of Quaker theology to his friends in Cuba, a country that I imagine is purposely stuck in something like the "November 12, 1955" of "Back to the Future", with old cars, old styles, old thoughts.

I'm wondering how sharing ideas that are over 305 years old can make a difference for the professor's friends in Cuba, or how saving the text of the old book will impact others in the future. I also wonder how long it will take for the technology that allows us to scan and store this book to become obsolete and inaccessible, maybe gone forever.

I guess only time will tell.