Iris Ruth Pastor's Blog, page 6

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Like so many of us lately, I was tired and in a hurry as I zoomed down the aisles of a Publix near me, pushing the cart in front of me.
 
However, at checkout, I did take the time to compliment the cashier on her very cool, oversized lime green glasses.
 
I wheeled my bagged purchases out to my car, loaded up the back of my SUV and headed home. 
 
When I unloaded my groceries and checked my receipt (something I hardly ever do), I realized that both items that had been at the bottom of my cart had not been seen by the cashier, noticed by the young man bagging my groceries or remembered by me.
 
There was a jumbo bag of Halloween candy for $11.99 and a six pack of Perrier. 
 
“I can’t go back,” I wailed to myself. “I’m too exhausted and I have company coming in about 30 minutes,” I rationalized. 
 
It nagged at me – this feeling of taking some things that simply were not mine. And maybe, I fantasized, if I went back, the good people of Publix would resist taking my check and instead donate it to a hurricane relief fund. And I would be a hometown hero!
 
Three days later, shortly before dinner, I headed back to Publix with a personal check in my purse.
 
I walked up to Customer Service and waited almost ten minutes while a line of eager customers purchased lottery tickets.
 
When my turn came, I explained the situation very clearly to the customer service rep who kinda seemed lost as how to handle this particular situation. While she was figuring stuff out, one impatient customer behind me left and another one – an elderly lady – even more elderly than me – lamented she was going to miss her bus if she couldn’t purchase some cigarettes right now.
 
The customer service rep – a young lady with beautifully manicured nails, complete with bright orange tips, I may add – kept looking up all kinds of things on her I phone in an effort to figure out how to proceed. 
 
Finally, she accepted my check for $20.00 and then asked me for ID – the irony of that was not lost on me.
 
After our transaction, I walked back into the interior of the store, bought a few items and proceeded to checkout. For some reason, probably because my husband and I were soon leaving to go out of town, I only grabbed one avocado, not my usual three, and didn’t bother to bag the lone piece of fruit. 
 
After checkout, I once again headed to my car, placing the bagged groceries into the back. And there, forgotten by me, and overlooked by the cashier and the bagger, was my one lone avocado rolling around at the bottom of the cart. I wish I could tell you I went right back into Publix to pay, but I didn’t.
 
Because…..just at that very moment, I was sidetracked by the same elderly woman who had recently tried to buy cigarettes at the customer service counter. 
 
“Do you have a light?” she asked me. “I quit smoking, but I decided to buy a pack of cigs anyway.”
 
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t”.
 
“You know, I missed my bus because the lady at customer service was so slow. Could you possibly give me a lift?”
 
“I’m sorry,” I said once again. “But I can’t.”
 
I quicky drove off – with an unpaid avocado in my possession and an angry elderly lady glaring at me.
 
As my dad used to say, “No good deed goes unpunished.”
 
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Sometimes You Just Gotta Change It Up

Sometimes, due to circumstances beyond our control., we have to re-think and revise.
 
Start with my newsletter – which has never come out on any other day but Friday, at 3pm. And today is NOT Friday at 3 pm.
 
BUT THIS COULDN’T WAIT!
 
When Helene and Milt paid us a visit, my first thought was to cancel the Nov 15th women’s friendship event and postpone to a more settled time.
 
But then stories started tumbling out of people’s mouths – of domiciles, businesses and neighborhoods decimated. I felt their yearning – not just for connection but for familiarity, routine and a sense of being oriented to one’s place.
 
That’s when I decided to go ahead with the third in the three-part series on women’s friendships.
 
I have since added a twist to the topic – it’s still The Art of Being Your Own Best Friend, but with a tag line: Especially After a Natural Disaster.
 
We won’t be just talking about self-care, but the importance of not minimizing personal loss and also about the fine art of cultivating self-determination. And, of course, I’ve sprinkled in a few humorous anecdotes during my presentation.
 
I hope you will once again join us for a mix of mingling, laughing and learning together. Our event also features a mini-market place filled with unique items great for holiday giving.
 
Here’s the ad:


 
Here’s the link to register:
https://www.jewishtampa.com/bloom
 
And, as we say in PYB land:
What good is growing 
if you never get to bloom?

The Saga of my Refrigerator

I have a confession – a huge confession: I cannot remember the last time I cleaned out my refrigerator. I mean REALLY cleaned out my refrigerator – not just desultorily wiping off a shelf here and there. 

I didn’t realize how gross it was until I came home from the New York City area after bidding a very enthusiastic adieu to two very unwelcome guests hovering around: Helene and Milt.

My niece – so thoughtfully – had emptied out the contents of my entire refrigerator and freezer shortly after our house lost power. So my first morning home, I spent over two hours wiping, washing, rinsing and drying every shelf, bin and drawer in said appliance.

When I finished, it was startling clean and I was totally exhausted. 



I had one thought only: how in the heck do people recover from devastating loss of their property when I could hardly deal with two hours of hard labor restoring my refrigerator to receive new supplies of food?

It’s not lost on me – that unlike many others – I have the strength, the energy, the time and the resources to right my house after our most recent two natural disasters just days apart. And that I have the means to replace my salad dressings, yogurt drinks and fruits and veggies as soon as I feel like venturing out.  

It is and it was like the Wild West in Florida:
Continuing flooding 
Power outrages
Stinking debris on the sides of roads
Non-working traffic lights
Closed and shuttered schools, post offices, gas stations and familiar businesses.

And we in Tampa did NOT get a direct hit – it veered at the very end to just south of us.

Tonight, I go to sleep with a sparkling clean, well-stocked refrigerator. 
Tonight, I go to bed with my outdoor furniture generously placed back in place by caring relatives. Ditto for my photo albums and plants. 
Tonight, I watch the news in my pajamas with my air conditioning cooling me and electricity lighting my family room. 
Tonight, I gaze out at a placid back yard, attentively restored and cleared of debris by the fine young man who takes care of mowing and mulching our yard.
Tonight, I go to bed with a roof still attached to my house and no sign of water damage, though we only live two short blocks from Tampa Bay.

I am so lucky.
Way too many Florida residents are not.

Am I thankful? You bet.
 
And I will donate where appropriate
and help when and where I am needed.

I will keep the victims in my prayers – all those who lost livelihoods and domiciles – all those who are now and will be for many weeks and months beset with anxiety and frayed nerves.

And to those who lost their lives, all 268 of them, I end with this song by Warren Zevon: Keep Me In Your Heart For A While. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RMTKb...

Shadows are fallin’ and I’m runnin’ out of breath
Keep me in your heart for a while

If I leave you it doesn’t mean I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for a while

When you get up in the mornin’ and you see that crazy sun
Keep me in your heart for a while

There’s a train leavin’ nightly called “When All is Said and Done”
Keep me in your heart for a while
Keep me in your heart for a while
Keep me in your heart for a while

Sometimes when you’re doin’ simple things around the house
Maybe you’ll think of me and smile
You know I’m tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
Keep me in your heart for a while

Hold me in your thoughts
Take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view

When the winter comes
Keep the fires lit so that 
And I will be right next to you

Engine driver’s headed north up to Pleasant Stream
Keep me in your heart for a while

These wheels keep turnin’ but they’re runnin’ out of steam
Keep me in your heart for a while
Keep me in your heart for a while
Keep me in your heart for a while
Keep me in your heart for a while

Warren Zevon intended the above song to be his final farewell. He was diagnosed with Mesothelioma in 2002. He told VH1 that “I don’t think anybody knows quite what to do when they get the diagnosis. I picked up the guitar and found myself writing this kind of farewell. Instantly I realized I’d found what to do with myself.”

Warren Zevon died in September, 2003 at age 56.

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

PS Hurricane Milton devastated my friend Francine’s condo in Largo, Florida. She can’t live there. 

“I am a walking zombie,” she confesses. “My entire acting career is gone…papers, teaching materials, all photos…my eBay store inventory..all furniture…I still have to pay for my condo fees and utilities… I’m living a nightmare.”

Please donate to Francine’s GoFundMe and share it with your friends.

When the Unimaginable Happens

Anyone who resides in the state of Florida lives under the threat of a major hurricane occurring between June 1 and November 30  – EVERY YEAR!
 
And there are many of us certainly getting our fill of hurricanes in the last couple of weeks.
 
I started googling ways to comfort oneself after a hurricane and came up with this: Re-establish your daily routine for work, school, play, meals, and rest. That seems a little lame to me – especially if you don’t have power, an habitable home or resources to relocate temporarily while you rebuild.
 
Geez: it’s like telling somewhat who is depressed to go get a mani and pedi. Helpful, but only in the very short run – like a band aid for a gushing and heavily bleeding wound.
 
The next suggestion I found wasn’t quite as unrealistic: after the event, involve your children by giving them specific chores to help them feel they are helping to restore family and community life. Praise and recognize responsible behavior. And understand that your children will have a range of reactions to disasters.
 
But I still had this compulsion to dig deeper. I found the following useful to understanding our reactions to violent climatic catastrophies:
 
A disaster refers to a natural calamity. 
The phases of Disaster are: 
     Peri-impact – before the disaster occurs
     Impact – when it occurs
     Recoil – immediately after
     Post impact – days to weeks after recovery
     Reconstruction – months and years after
Many times our first reactions after a natural disaster directly involving ourselves are shock, stupor and being dazed and stunned. This is a natural reaction to trauma when one’s life has been grossly threatened and from which a variety of biological, psychological and social wounds and scars result.
 
Psychic shock occurs in the Recoil stage and centers around being stunned upon recognizing the extent of the loss. This is seen as the first stage of the grieving process when confronting a natural disaster. One feels 
overwhelmed, sinking into a dark hole, feeling immobile, unresponsive, extremely fatigued. This can be coupled with constricted attention and detachment.
 
Quite surprising to me is that many of these natural responses can be viewed as adaptive and helpful to one’s recovery.
 
For instance, immobility can manifest itself by people being less likely to take risks and put themselves in unknown  jeopardy by venturing out and about too soon.  
 
Unresponsiveness in victims can help as it may facilitate more cooperation with authority figures than in less hazardous times.
 
Conservation of energy can be useful in replenishing one’s reserves of liveliness and zest at a future date.
 
Physical and psychological warmth, comfort and support is a must, as is physical contact and connection with others, reassuring voices, explanations of what is happening and expressions of positivity and progress.
 
In the Post-Impact phase, survivors emerge from their silos – grateful to be alive. They are eager to help others and re-connect with family and friends and to help rebuild their communities. This often results in a temporary post -disaster euphoria.
 
However, at the same time, anger is often directed toward outsiders whose help is often seen as lacking in empathy.  
 
What follows next is the Reconstruction phase, which can be a hard, prolonged time of rebuilding the physical environment and our internal lives and rebuilding community that has been temporarily lost. 
(These observations and recommendations above are those of the author Paul Valent, as found on searchgate.net)
 
FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency) also has some very practical health and safety guidelines:

View recovery from a natural disaster as a gradual process.

Safety is the primary priority, as is mental and physical well-being.

It’s important to know how to access services and aid.

Don’t try to do too much at one time. 

Set priorities and pace yourself.

Drink plenty of clean water and try and eat well.

Keep sturdy work boots and gloves handy. 

After working with debris, wash your hands thoroughly with soap and clean water.
 
Be aware of local safety issues such as washed-out roads, contaminated buildings, gas leaks, broken glass and damaged electrical wiring. Try and stay off the streets, especially until debris is cleared away.
 
Keep a battery-operated radio and battery powered flash lights handy. 
  
When you re-enter your home, if you smell natural gas or hear a hissing, leave immediately. Watch out for snakes and other animals lurking around. Beware of broken or frayed wires and roof, foundation or chimney cracks. 
 
If your appliances are wet, turn off the electricity and the circuit breakers and unplug appliances. Get them checked by a professional before using again.
 
If pipes are damaged, turn off the main water valve.
 
Throw out damaged food.
 
Call your insurance agent if you are lucky enough to have insurance.
 
And pray: 
Holy One, we ask you to calm the wind and the waves of the hurricane and spare those that were in its path from harm. Help those who were impacted to reach safety and regain their footing. And in the coming days, open our hearts in generosity to all in our community who need help and sustenance. And give us the strength, courage, and resolve to ride out this storm and its aftermath. Amen.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

A New Way of Looking at Old Ways

I am taking time during the ten days of the Days of Awe – which begin with Rosh Hashanah and end with Yom Kippur – to learn new ways to respond to an old situation. 
 
Like many of my friends, who are parents of adult children, we struggle with the power dynamic between the generations and the many pernicious ways generational differences create chaos and make unwanted waves. I’m beginning to formulate a theory: the secret to living happily ever after when you have adult kids is understanding and respecting generational and innate differences.
 
The Babylonian Talmud states: the love of parents goes to their children, but the love of these children goes to their children. 
 
Think about the love of children and the love of parents:
A person loses his father. It is very sad – a time for retrospection and repentance. How does the son feel, however, when he suddenly hears that his father in passing left an enormous inheritance for him?…With the sadness, there is nonetheless still some joy. The grief can be pushed aside for a bit of materialistic joy. 
 
But when the contrary happens and the son passes away and leaves behind more wealth than the world has ever seen…the father doesn’t care (at all) for the money. He cares for his son. He says, “Let the world have the money! What is money to me, alas, I have lost my blessed son! I would rather be the poorest man in the world if I could only have my dearest child.”
Written by Rabbi Mordechai Menachem Reich as found in Jewish Wisdom by Rabbi Joseph Telushkin.
 
Think about when children and parents disagree:
The Torah (the first five books of the Hebrew Bible) teaches each of us to revere our mother and father. But one does not owe one’s parents control over one’s conscience. A child need not listen to a parent who tells him not to forgive or reconcile with a certain person. Nowhere in Jewish liturgy are children asked to disregard their own needs in order to accommodate the needs of the parents. 
Voices of Wisdom by Francine Klagsbrun
 
Think about when parents grow old or become mentally disturbed and difficult:
The child should try to indulge the vagaries of the stricken parent, but if he finds he cannot endure the situation, let him leave and go away and appoint others to care for them properly. 
 
Many sages and scholars say that the most difficult to observe of the 613 commandments is Honor Your Father and Mother. The commandment does not say “love” like it says love your neighbor, love the stranger and love God. Love is too volatile in this case.
 
Honor means giving food, drink, clothes and comfort and leading your father and/or mother in or out when old – accepting one’s parents as they are in spite of their shortcomings.
 
Revere means more like: Don’t contradict a parent’s words or side with their opponents.
 
Both my parents have passed away and all my children are adults. In light of that, the above recommendations are beginning to make a lot of sense – helping me to adopt realistic expectations in relation to the mother/adult son dynamics. And I’m more energized than ever before to honor my adult sons’ perspectives, while keeping my heart open and loving.
 
May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life for the coming year – 
 
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor

PS: Let us keep in our prayers and thoughts the many victims of devastation from Hurricane Helene and offer aid and resources when we can.

It’s Time to Bloom Again

We are now in the autumn of the year, but it’s always the right time to bloom again in Preserving Your Bloom (PYB) land.
 
How to be my own best friend?
I pose that question to myself often throughout my day.
 
And why do I so often treat my friends with more consideration and kindness than I treat myself? 
I ask myself that question too.
 
Why?
 
These are multi-layered, heavily nuanced questions.
And smart solutions to managing the challenges and complexities of being our own best friend can be illusive.
 
But let’s face it:
The most important friendship we have is the one we have with ourselves . It’s all about self-love.
 

  
Treating ourselves to a mani/pedi, taking time to get lost in a juicy novel, or attending a class to broaden our horizons are some ways we can practice self-care, but there’s so much more to nourishing the critical relationship we have with ourselves. 
 
What are the essential ingredients to living our best lives? How do we get our inner and outer selves in sync? And why do we allow ourselves to be our own worst enemy instead of our own best friend? 
 
We need to recognize our intrinsic worth in order to navigate life’s challenges with the same kindness and encouragement we’d show a close friend.
 
On Friday, November 15, I will be addressing those things and so much more in the last in our three-part Art of Female Friendship series. The focus this time is solely on  YOU , or better said, your “Bestie From Birth”!
 
The event, entitled,  HOW TO BE YOUR OWN BEST FRIEND,  will take place once again at the Shanna and Bryan Glazer JCC in Tampa and will include a boxed lunch, an interactive presentation by me and ample time to make new friends and socialize with the ones we already have. 
 
If you are anywhere near the Tampa Bay area, think about coming on down (or up)!
 
Space is limited, but as a subscriber to my newsletter, you are among the first wave to receive the registration information. 
 
Plus. . . you can turn this event into a great “Girls’ Day Out” by signing up to be a Table Host. All you have to do is fill a table with nine other women or become a Table Co-Host by bringing four friends. All Table Hosts will receive a special gift once your guests are registered, plus special recognition. 
 
I look forward to seeing you.
Link to register: https://www.jewishtampa.com/bloom
 
Registration opens on October 1. Feel free to post about this event on your social media. That would be super!
 
As we say in PYB Land, “What Good is Growing if You Never Get to Bloom?”
 
Hugs,

PS: No lasting damage from Hurricane Helene. We pray for those still in harm’s way.

Who you gonna call?

Remember the famous line from the 1984 movie “Ghostbusters”? “Who You Gonna Call? 
 
If you’re seeing things
Running through your head
Who can you call?
(Ghostbusters)
 
Who you gonna call?
(Ghostbusters)


If you’re all alone
Pick up the phone
And call
(Ghostbusters)
 
I wish there really was someone like Ghostbusters to call when we were troubled, sad or at a crossroads.
 
Power through?
“Not so fast,” a therapist would caution.
First FEEL THE FEELING.
Then – and only then – move on.
 
It seems to me that when we are in liminal space
we need to bask in ruminations, 
explore our options
and then proceed forward to consider what we crave:

     – New travel adventures?
     – A hobby tapping into heretofore unexplored talents?
     – More likeminded buddies?
     – Closer family relations?
     – A firmer, fitter body?

And what are we prepared to sacrifice, modify or change to get there?
 
It’s about finding something that feeds our essence – that couples our imagination and our intuition – that helps us awaken our deepest yearnings and explore our untapped gifts.
 
As Seena B. Frost notes in her book Soul Collage, the beauty and value of a hand-crafted life is a life that is consciously assembled from pieces that you yourself select and put together. It’s self-created. It’s not a life pulled off the rack having been put together by others or by our culture. It’s a reminder to chart our own course and then – as I so often say – “Control Our Own Remote.”
 
That is powerful and somewhat daunting – and yet friends all around me seem to be doing just that:I have a friend who spent seven consecutive summers walking the El Camino – stretching over 500 miles of hilly terrain.                          I have a friend who finds grounding in being physically fit and fills her days going to a variety of exercise classes and pickleball games.       I have a friend who travels to folk schools all over the country learning skills like wood turning, shoe making, and jewelry design.        I have a friend who fills her days serving on various boards with the sole purpose of making this world and her community a better place to live. 
I’m not sure what my path forward is.
I know it entails coming to terms with certain deficits in my life –
giving up getting things that remain unattainable in spite of my best efforts 
and moving toward those people who get my essence and spur me on with positivity. 
 
Where do I find consistent meaning and solace and grounding? It’s never really changed. It’s always been there for the taking:     
      Through discovering new truths,
       learning new things, 
       and traveling to unexplored places.       Through my writing, 
       my speaking 
       and my connecting people with other people. 
It’s not all under my control, of course. But what is under my control will be directed toward filling my life with what brings joy and meaning to me.
And I won’t have to call Ghostbusters after all 
because: I’m done coping.I’m soaring.I’m done ruminating.I’m acting. 
And I’m inviting each of you
to come sit with me at my table –
with your seat belts buckled –
because it’s going to be a wild and rollicking ride.
 
Let the feast begin.
 
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Not a Comfortable Place

I’m going through a murky time.
I’m restless – not sleeping well.
I’m torn in too many conflicting directions.
I have an over-abundance of choices
and no clear way forward.
I’m wandering  without direction.
Unwanted thoughts assault me.
 
My brain craves predictability, routine and a state of equilibrium – I crave balance and steadiness and instead I get upheaval and uncertainty and cloudiness.
 
So I ponder and toss restlessly – trying in vain to find a way to cope with the my divergent emotions and lack of a clear path forward.
 
One sleepless night, I make my way to my quiet, dark kitchen and start ripping-off Post It notes from their pad. I mark words on each of the assembled squares. And, like a Ouija Board, without my mind’s directions, my fingers decisively layout the notes in a distinct pattern. 
 
Here’s the finished product:
 

 
I hang the cardboard exhibit on the inside cabinet door in my kitchen – the one holding the coffee mugs – so I will be forced to gaze at it daily. I am counting on it to bring clarity and closure to my restlessness. Some hint of a direction I wish the rest of my life to go in.
 
I had hoped my chart would serve as a mission statement – a guiding light through the murkiness – but as the days roll by, I look at it less and less and then forget about it altogether.
 
Until today –  when I came across the term “liminal space.”
 
Have you ever heard of it? I have not.
 
Liminal space is a transitional place or a place characterized by uncertainty, disorientation and a sense of being between one thing and the next.
 
Hmmmm….. I can relate. 
 
Some examples of liminal spaces would be empty or abandoned buildings that appear eerie or forlorn.
 
Hotels and motels are liminal spaces because they serve a transient purpose as people are either coming in or going out.
 
Ditto for staircases and elevators – people don’t spend much time in them or on them.
 
Ditto for airports, bridges, hallways.  
 
On a more existential level, liminal spaces are associated with people when individuals are in an uncertain time in their lives either physically, emotionally or metaphorically. To be on the precipice of something new but not quite there is a prime example. Or on a tightrope in the exact middle – too far to turn around – too far to the destination to feel comfortable going forward.
  
Some examples of liminal spaces that are emotional would be divorce, empty nest, retirement, death of a loved one, graduation, illness. Often after one of these occur, we begin to define our lives as “before” and “after” the event.
 
A liminal space can also exist when we are vacillating between two ideas and, until we make a decision, we remain in that uneasy state.
 
Liminal space can engender fear of not being able to cope and can engender a high level of stress. Liminal space can cause unease, an enveloping sense of disorientation and a lack of a firm identity.
 
On the other hand, liminal space can have a beauty all its own – and can be an opportunity for transfomation and growth. It can be a gateway to learn new things – about ourselves, our world, our people. 
 
Maybe I, too, can view it as a space in my life prompting me to reflect on my experiences and engage in new and untried ways of doing things.
 
I like what Jon Dewaal, founder of Liminal Space, has to say: if you approach it with a degree of hopefulness and curiosity, even if it’s uncomfortable, then an opportunity for transformation is there.”
 
I like that. 
From tumult to discovery. 
From tumult to confidence. 
From tumult to purposeful. 
 
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

What I Have Always Loved…

I love newspapers:The smell of themThe feel of the crisp paper in my handsThe black ink that sometimes comes off on my fingertips I love the routine of them – some thrown strategically onto my driveway – some coming tucked into my mail box.
And I love the ability to randomly rip out articles that grab my attention.
 
And that love of the printed newspaper is actually how my column got started.
 
When my youngest and fifth son entered preschool, I knew I needed something to serve my interest in promoting connection and my need to challenge myself creatively.
 
In the mid 1980’s a mutual acquaintance and I started a monthly parenting newspaper/magazine in Cincinnati, Ohio, aptly named Cincinnati Kids.
 

 
My column appeared on the last page of the 16-page monthly. And, as expected, my articles focused on parenting, parenting failures, parenting dilemmas and parenting advice.
 
Here’s a tidbit from August, 1988: 
The three most practical things a parent can do for his child to make him feel loved and cherished are the following:Physical touchPositive eye contactFocused attention 
(BTW: works on grandkids and husbands too)
 
The only one of us that made any money was our sales rep. 
 
However, every month when we picked up the huge number of bundled papers from the printer, our psychic income was in the black. Delivering the freebie to neighborhood drop-off points in a euphoric state of happiness still felt like “work,” but my accountant confidently assured me that based on my feeble income from Cincinnati Kids, my “work” was a “hobby.”
 
Eventually, our small little publication was absorbed into a larger local weekly newspaper East Side Weekend where my column and a local priest’s column often ran side by side, aptly titled “The Priest and the Pastor.”
 



 
Soon after, my column was picked up by a larger chain of weeklies and by various monthly parenting magazines across the country.
 
As we entered the Internet age, my “Incidentally, Iris” column began appearing on many websites and online publications. My greatest gig was with The Huffington Post – the older adult section – where I was named a “must read columnist.” Sadly, they abolished that section soon after. It certainly wasn’t for lack of an aging population.
Oh well.

Here’s the link: https://www.huffpost.com/author/irisruthpastor-725
 
My love of writing, reading and newspapers continues. 
 
However, I am increasingly in a minority.
 
Newspaper subscription rates have been tumbling down for years.
 
Television in the 1950’s ushered in the first decline of the newspaper as the main source of news. And the Internet explosion in the 1990’s brutally sabotaged newspaper’s dominance even more. 
 
Why has newspaper circulation declined? Technology and social media platforms have changed the way people consume and access news. And there is an unstoppable move from print to digital.  
 
Even though some stats show that 54 percent of readers like print copies over digital, circulation belies this.
 
In 1990, the average circulation of weekday newspapers was 63.2 million. In 2022, the circulation was down to 20.9 million and it is still declining!!!

To make matters worse, 2100 local newspapers have closed since 2004, affecting 1800 communities. And the number of journalists has dropped 39 percent since 1989.
 
And why the rapid tumbling down? Because we can all get real time information on our computers and phones.
 
But I still love newspapers and believe in their worth.
Next week I’ll profile some tantalizing tidbits of info garnered from their pages. 
 
Until then,
 
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

I Have a Confession

I have a confession.
 
Sometimes I can say the most tactless things – not fully realizing the effect my words have.
 
A couple of months ago I came across this quote: I LOVE MY FRIENDS. I JUST WISH I DIDN’T HAVE TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME WITH THEM.
 
I lightheartedly repeated the quote to some of my buddies – they were NOT amused. In fact, I think they were mightily offended. 
 
Let’s face it: sometimes spending “quality time” with a friend can seem like work – not pleasure. 
 
I’ll give you an example: I have a friend, Mary Ann, who always has advice about vitamin supplements:How many I should be takingHow often I should be taking themThe miraculous effects the supplements will have on my aging bones. 


Green tea. Fish oil. Zinc. Vitamin C, B complex – the list goes on and on. Just thinking about having lunch with her wears me out. But afterwards, I am always thankful that I have a friend who is both knowledgeable and caring enough to share her hard-earned wisdom. 
 
But during the lunch? I want to pull my hair out.
  
And I don’t know about you, but I need all the hair I still have  – especially on the crown of my head.
So here’s some suggestions if you ever find yourself with a friend who is going non-stop on a subject and you are ready to start some serious hair pulling.Make sure you use her name and interrupt her with a compliment: Mary, Ann, your knowledge is amazing – I so appreciate your sharing all that information with me,Then quickly divert her: I’m curious: How’s it going for your daughter since she started university?See how easy that was? I took the conversation down a whole new path while still showing interest in her. 
 
Good friends can vastly enhance the quality of our lives, but their situations can also wreak havoc on our empathy and patience.
 
My buddy Judy is in a very unhappy marriage – her husband Joe can’t hold down a steady job even though he has a PhD in economics, doesn’t pay attention to her, gambles like crazy and tunes out the kids. Every day I hear a new example on why her marriage is unfulfilling. I am getting very tired of listening.  


 
Let’s face it. It can be marital issues, addiction, neediness, narcissistic tendencies, health problems, emotional problems – all which can entirely occupy the real estate in a friend’s brain.
 
Keep in mind that your friend’s chronic complaining shrinks the part of her brain responsible for critical thinking and problem solving. Research shows it is difficult to create solutions when constantly venting. 
 
What can we do? How can we help Judy?This may sound counterintuitive, but let’s try bucking up and listening to her woes.And listening some more.By helping Judy empty her bad feelings, we are helping her to find a path forward and to think through ways to solve the problem, instead of endlessly re-hashing things. Ask some leading questions: What have you tried thus far? How do you propose to resolve this? What do you see as the answer? What are your options?Let her come up with the answers – it could be spiritual support, journaling, therapy, couples marriage counseling,  practicing the art of gratitude, yoga, etc. Let her lead the way.And when, in a future conversation, she brings up her litany of marital complaints, remind her of what she said she was going to do about her issue.This shows Judy that you are holding her accountable for getting her problem solved or at least making progress towards solving it. 
We all agree: friends are essential to our well-being, happiness and sense of belonging. But many of us have friends who fall short of our expectations and sometimes we just need to vent.  Not confront them. 
 
We need to get out our anger or frustration in a healthy and benign way. 
 
My hand-knitted dammit dolls do just that.
 

 
And here is a little poem to illustrate how they work:
 
Here’s your very own “Dammit Doll”
It can take a whacking
Especially when calm and serenity
In your life are lacking
 
So grasp it in the middle
With its button eyes facing you
Start slamming while yelling “dammit”
That’s all you have to do!
 
Here’s to happy, healthy and fulfilling female friendships….
 
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

PS:  If you’d like your very own dammit doll for yourself or for a friend, let me know. Each one is unique and comes with the poem.   
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