Pretending I'm Retired

This is going to sound stupid, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I tried to make a bargain with God. I know, right? It was last month, right before our trip to Alaska--the crown jewel in my quest to visit all 50 states. You know, the trip I planned to take back in 2020 that got postponed twice due to covid? Well, I was working on all the trip logistics—downloading passport information to fly through Canada, filling out health questionnaires, scheduling medically observed covid tests…and I was nervous and stressed. What if someone tested positive for covid and we couldn’t go? “Dear God,” I prayed. “Please let this trip go smoothly.” That felt a little selfish. God has more important matters than my family vacation. So, I added, “I promise not to drink alcohol during the month of August.” I don’t know why I said that. It’s like when your kid is climbing a tree and you need him to come down so you panic and say something like, “If you don’t come down right now, you are grounded fo...

I used to say Dad was a terrible gift giver. Exhibit A: He once gave me placemats with big tractors on them. Now, just in case you are wondering, I didn’t grow up on a ranch and I’ve never shown an interest in farm equipment. Carolyn might have chosen a pattern that fit better with my décor, but Dad insisted—and prided himself—on picking out the Christmas gifts for my family. He enjoyed meandering through church bazaars and second-hand stores to see what caught his eye. Another time, when the kids were little and babysitters were a luxury, he asked if I liked dates. Yes! I told him. What a great idea—he could come over, watch the kids…Paul and I could have an evening out with uninterrupted conversation! But no…he meant the fruit. That year, for Christmas, we received a giant box of dates from California. Earlier this year, Dad called to tell me that his health was declining rapidly. This may not seem like a gift at first, but understanding the scarcity of the days I had left with...

Melt six ounces of good quality semi-sweet chocolate and one stick of butter.   I watch the semi-sweet morsels soften, then flow, like a chocolate tributary to a buttery lake. My mind wanders as I stir. The first months as a new mother are now murky memories, but I remember my notebook. It was small enough to fit in my hand, which was helpful, because I carried it, along with the sweet baby, everywhere I went. No detail seemed insignificant–what time I nursed, the contents of a dirty diaper. I’m not sure why I felt the need to write so many mundane moments.  Maybe I thought if I tracked every move in a tiny spiral notebook, I could stay in control. Add two whole eggs and two egg yolks into a bowl with a quarter cup of sugar and a pinch of salt. Whisk until light and frothy, about five minutes.  When the baby turns twelve, he asks if he can invite ALL the boys in his sixth-grade class to the party, and of course I say yes. I plan an elaborate balloonapalooza and spend hour...

  It begins I suppose it really begins January 11, 1943, the day of my father’s birth. That’s how we summarize life, right? Year of birth, year of death. And a dash for the lifetime in between. On Sunday, May 15, 2022, I’m not thinking about dates, hyphens, or my father. I’m thinking about ants. “Damn it, I can’t figure out where they are coming from.” I stand motionless by the kitchen sink, holding my breath, scanning the mottled marble countertop for signs of motion. Gradually, my eyes adjust to see the tiny scurrying insects camouflaged against the dark polished stone. I aim the cleaning spray at the counter and pull the nozzle, emptying a stream of bleachy liquid onto the ant parade below. As I wipe away the evidence of my carnage with a paper towel, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Missed call from Dad. Cell phones I don’t remember exactly when Dad finally got a cell phone, but it seemed long past the rest of the world. Even now, he doesn’t use it, except to make the occasional...

Doris Santoro is educating school systems on the difference between burnout and demoralization and sharing effective strategies to help teachers reclaim job satisfaction. Over the past year, teaching has felt especially hard. “Burnout” is a common buzzword in education, but I believe much of the dissatisfaction many teachers feel is due to a different cause: demoralization. Doris Santoro is a professor at Bowdoin College and the author of Demoralized: Why Teachers Leave the Profession They Love and How They Can Stay. She encourages teachers to understand how burnout and demoralization differ, both in their causes and in their solutions. Burnout is physical or emotional exhaustion, as a result of prolonged stress or frustration . Self-care is often prescribed to help with burnout. Demoralization happens when teachers are asked to work in a way that does not align with their professional values. While self-care strategies such as exercise or meditation can help with symptoms of burnout, ...

  “Well-written and well-spoken words delight my soul and spirit,” says Mi-Ae Wartenbee. New friendship delights my soul and spirit, and it is such a joy to connect with Mi-Ae (pronounced Mee-eh ), who exemplifies her name meaning: beautiful love.  At first glance, it may not seem like Mi-Ae and I have much in common. She is the Unit Chief of the Evaluation and Mitigation Unit at the Department of Justice. I teach elementary school. She was born and raised in Korea and I have lived in the U.S. my entire life. But I have a theory: when you take the time to connect and form a relationship with someone, you will realize how much you have in common. Collaborating on a project together in our journalism class at UPenn gave me an opportunity to test my hypothesis.    It doesn’t take us long to discover two things we have in common. “I’m a voracious reader and coffee lover,” Mi-Ae tells me. I love her already! Mi-Ae reads an impressive panoply of genres, includin...

Let’s have some fun! Some days, does it feel like you can’t escape the weight of the world? It only takes a few minutes of doom scrolling through climate change, war, sex trafficking, hurricanes, drug overdoses, and racism to put me in a bad mood.  I feel sadder after typing that one sentence.  With all the problems, stress, and uncertainty in the world, is today a good day to dress up in a costume, eat cookies, and laugh with my friends?  Yes, it is. I’m not saying fun will cure all the world’s problems. However, there’s lots of scientific research to show the positive impacts that fun can have on your health and well-being. You stress less when having fun. I know. I look pretty silly wearing pigtails and a sweatband. I don’t mind. Laughing can lower your cortisol, according to this study . Cortisol is your body’s main stress hormone. Ergo, a few jokes can lower your stress. They say a joke becomes a dad joke when it becomes apparent. (Couldn’t resist.) Because lower str...