One Hundred Days

If you are “lucky” enough to live in a city, county, state, country, homeowners’ association, etc., that elected a new representative, mayor, commissioner, dog catcher, etc. last fall who was installed in office in January, you are likely seeing stories here and about regarding so-and-so’s first 100 days. That seems to be a fun activity among pundits who have nothing much better to do in mid-April. I’ve never cared much for those types of stories. What can you do in 100 days?

Since the dawn of the Internet Era, hundred day projects although not all the rage, are no longer the sole purview of political hacks and the hacks who follow politics. Everybody can get in on the action. In fact, there is an on-line, on-going, on point 100 Day Project site that claims “thousands of people all around the world commit to 100 days of creating” every year. The ninth annual project period started Feb. 13, but according to their FAQs, any day is a good day to start.

I was glad to hear that because I started a 100 day project on January 9, which means my hundredth day is here! I didn’t put much planning into my activity. To be honest, it wasn’t planned at all! And it certainly began before January 9 but that’s the day I’m going with because that’s the day the official word came to me – I had COVID. I already wrote about the first 30 days I got to participate in this project and I will say the more recent 70 days have been much more fun. Let me tell you what I’ve been doing.

As I said then, I was and am still working the exercises given me to strengthen the muscles that help the lungs do what lungs do, and to increase my stamina and balance. Because the weather has been typical Western Pennsylvania Spring (temperatures ranging from 16⁰F to 72⁰F over 3 days, with wind, rain, sleet and snow often in the same day), I didn’t mind staying inside, far away from the maskless horde. I really needed something to do besides the official physician ordered activity. I tried other exercises, and I can attest that riding a bike to nowhere really is as dull as it sounds. On the occasional day of sun and warmth (at the same time!) I would venture outside to saunter on paved surfaces (of those 100 days, only 4 of them were completely precipitation free making a walk through the woods more like a slog through a bog), but it seemed if I was going to amuse myself, it would be an indoor activity.

They say with 100 days you can reinvent yourself.  I’m not sure who they are and what they started with, but I didn’t think I would be reinventing anything, not even a better mousetrap, in the time I had before “Real Spring” would roll around. So … I decided to revive an old hobby. Art. Actually I revised an old hobby. Once upon a time I was a sketcher. Yes, one of those pretentious twerps who would sit outside with a pad and a soft lead pencil and do more than doodle but less than draw. After I confirmed to myself that I still understood light, shadow, perspective, and representation, I took the plunge and added color. I went full-on painting. With the not quite miraculous miracle of overnight shipping, I had all the supplies I needed to transform a 20 year old drawer into Grandpa Moses.

I’ll never be confused with an old master, and the Tate won’t be keeping a wing open for my work, but I have to say I have enjoyed the last 70 days of my 100 day project and will be continuing it even if the weather ever turns to spring. (It is snowing as I write this. Just FYI. Ugh.)

Don’t think you can develop a talent in a short amount of time in the later years of your life? Please, don’t tell me that. I’m having too much fun. I just really wish I didn’t have to get COVID to figure this out!

66085821713__28E72589-3E88-4A64-8EE8-529861CAAE10    My first piece: “Young woman among trees”

Happy Today!

When was the last time you woke up and said, “Today is going to be the best day in my life!”? Although there are no scientific studies to back it up, there is a pretty good chance it wasn’t today. With that in mind, here is a completely unscientific poll:

Which of the following is a wish for a special day
a.  Have a good day
b.  Good morning
c.  Happy birthday
d.  Have a great day
e.  All of the above
If you answered e. All of the above you’re likely on your way to a great day and maybe it is going to be the best day of your life!

Why can’t every day be special? Let’s rephrase that. Why, every day can be a special! It’s time to ditch the idea of “Have a nice day” as platitude and get back to really meaning it. Have a nice day and its close relative Have a good day, had appeared in print as far back as Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (“”And hoom wente every man the righte way, there was namoore but ‘Fare wel, have a good day'”) and was a friendly but serious way of closing communications between air traffic controllers and pilots through the early days of jet travel. It wasn’t until the 1970s when Americans began associated the phrase with the soon to be ubiquitous smiley face that those words were stripped of their happiness and joy, when in fact, each day should be one of happiness and joy. We are allotted only so many days. And according to recent reports, Americans can expect less of them. Earlier this year, the CDC’s National Center for Health Statistics reported American life expectancy dropped from 78.8 years in 2019 to 77.3 years in 2020.  It cannot all be blamed on COVID. Life expectancy in the United States has been declining since 2014.

Undoubtedly there are a variety of reasons for this decline. One thing that is rarely mentioned is that happiness and longevity go together. Ten of the 20 countries with the longest reported life expectancies are also ten of the top 20 countries ranked as the world’s happiest in the 2020 World Happiness Report conducted by the United Nations Sustainable Development Solutions Network. It may not be the most formal research, but it appears it you want to live long, you have a better chance at it if you’re living it happily. And how do you make live a happy life. Make every day special.

Each day, over 150,000 people spend their last day on earth. It is estimated that only about 2/3 of those people die of age-related complications and one can make the argument that 1 out of every 3 people who die don’t expect it. Almost everybody who has survived a life-threatening event acknowledges the specialness of each day. To them every day of their new life is a gift. You should not have to have been threatened with the loss of future days to recognize each day’s presence as exceptional. Nor should a day need a special event for it to be special. Every day is exceptional and each day is an event in its own right.

2 + 2 5 (2)Fred Rogers knew about special days. He closed each episode of his Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood television show with “You’ve made this day a special day, by just your being you. There’s no person in the whole world like you, and I like you just the way you are.” There was no question that he meant it and that every day was special to him.  In a 2019 Los Angeles Times interview, his widow Joanne said, “People invariably say, ‘Well, I can’t do that, but I sure do admire him. I would love to do it.’ Well, you can do it. I’m convinced there are lots of Fred Rogerses out there.” Fred Rogers made everyone feel special because he genuinely cared for people and was not afraid to express it.

if you search “How to make someone feel special.” on the Internet, you will find, “Bring them chocolate, write them a note, give them your full attention, surprise them with a gift.” None of the returns say, “Be honest and genuine with everyone you meet, don’t be mean, treat everyone with respect, make everyone leave feeling good about having been with you.”

To make others feel special you need only show genuine them concern and respect. We uplift each other while we can, because there is no guarantee of a tomorrow. “You’ve made this day a special day, by just your being you.” It’s time to celebrate this special day, today!

Time Marches On

Just yesterday I was researching a topic for an article I am writing. I thought I had all the information I needed but I wanted to find something that I could reference that was not “scholarly” research. I turned to Google and typed in my query, then skipped the titles of the resulting pages and gave the descriptions a quick scan. I found a couple I thought would work. I clicked on one and then the other, and as the page painted on the screen, I realized I was looking at one of my own blog posts!

You would think I would remember a blog I wrote. In my defense it was from nearly three years ago, early in the kidney transplant series. Three years ago seems like a long time now. When we’re very young, preschool age, three years didn’t mean anything which makes sense because when you are only 4 or 5 years old, 3 years is most of our life. You don’t even think about time. There isn’t a reference to how long something is or lasts. You wake up, you eat, you play, you nap, you play again, you eat some more, you play one more time, you sleep.  The only thing that varies from day to day is what Garanimal you are wearing.

As we get older, three years starts to have some meaning although it’s still fairly abstract. To an 8 year old, the 11 year old version is bigger, has a bigger bike, maybe has more homework, but the 8 year old isn’t particularly chomping at the bit to close that three year gap. Now the 13 year old starts putting some meaning into a three year stretch. At thirteen things are starting to happen, not necessarily overt but now there are times when you look back three years and say how easy it was then, back in the safety of elementary school  when nobody really cared what color your bike was, while simultaneously looking ahead three years when you get to trade that bike in for a license and a car! But that also puts you into high school and all you can tell from your 13 year old perspective is those older kids are always angry about something.

By the time you get through those high school years, 3 years is an eternity.  The 18 year old version of you can’t even remember being a gawky 15 year old at a first dance absolutely refusing to make eye contact with those people on the other side of the gym. Looking ahead, three years wouldn’t even get you through college if that was your path, and whether you’re university bound or directly entering work life, your reign as BMOC (I suppose today, BNGSOC) has come to an end and your new status is back to low man on the totem pole. (And if you can rework that phrase politically correctly, congratulations!)

hourglassRise you did though, the years went by, and in your mid to late 20’s three years is much like the adult version of the elementary school years. You see ahead a bigger version of you – a bigger job with a bigger car, bigger house, bigger family. They come with more home work (now two words). The difference now is that you are chomping at the bit to close that gap and get to “biggers” as quickly as you can.

Young adulthood goes by in a blink. The real adult phase you don’t even remember. Then suddenly, you turn middle age. Three years is a drop in the bucket. Plans you made that you were “definitely going to do next year” don’t get done for three, a three year old car is now new to you, three years is the life expectancy of the paint on the walls, the feeling that every day is the same stretches to every year is the same, and the only thing that varies from year to year is what size waist band you are wearing.

And then there is now. Three years, only three years, yet I couldn’t recognize my own words. What other things happened three years ago that now belong to somebody else’s memories. The last time I went into work, the last time I planned a vacation, the last time I danced with somebody. The last time I shared picnic blanket and bottle of wine under a sunny summer sky.

I suppose it is only a matter of a few more year, perhaps three, that the years won’t mean anything which makes sense because when you are of a certain age you don’t even think about time. There isn’t a reference to how much longer something might last. You wake up, you eat, you play, you nap, you play again, you eat some more, you sleep.  The only thing that varies from day to day is the expression you are wearing and the feeling in your heart.


Continuing with my experiment on the WordPress/Anchor partnership, Don’t Believe Everything You Think is available on these platforms.

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Please let me know what you think. So far I’m still mostly just recording the blog posts but eventually there will be more than that. We might even get into a discussion about how we all got into blogging.

This post will begin to be available on these platforms later today.

Low Seeded Life Lessons

If you’ve been anywhere near a TV set, radio, computer, or newspaper where they recognize college basketball as news, then you’ve heard about the big upset in the NCAA tournament last week. You’ll hear about here (read about it here?) too. But just for a little.

For the first time a number 16 (aka lowest regional) seed beat a number one regional seed. All the news outlets told that part of the story to everybody reading or listening. As impressive as that is there are some important things they left out that the underdog in question should be proud of or at least include in their press releases.

bracketEveryone in America can probably tell you that before this momentous occasion, the number one seeds had gone 135-0 in these first round games against number 16 seeds. Nobody mentioned that was the first time that happened in the 79 year history of the tournament. One can argue that there have not been 16 seeds for all those years. For the first 12 years there were only 8 teams invited to play in the tournament. The current four region, 64 team, 4 round format (excluding the 4 team preliminary play-in round) was initiated in 1985. Even so, that’s been 33 years, over 50% longer than most of the kids playing in the tournament have been alive.

The other thing everybody has mentioned is that the number one regional seed that lost was also the number one seed in the tournament, or the team determined to be the best in the field of 64 entering four round play. Nobody has mentioned that the number 16 seed that beat them so handily was the 63rd in the tournament, or the second worst of those 64 teams. (It almost makes you wish they were just a wee bit worse!)

There is one more thing the news people have been remiss in reporting. Everybody together now, name the school that lost that historic game. That’s right. Virginia. Technically the University of Virginia. Now, just as quickly, name the school that won. That’s ok, you can have a minute to think about that. Now that a few days have gone by you might need to refresh your memory. If you checked the headlines or listened to the reporters you might recall it was UMBC. And that stands for? Go ahead and take another minute. That’s right, the University of Maryland, Baltimore County.

So what’s the moral of the story? Keep working. No matter how long the odds, sometimes the dark horse wins. Don’t worry if the experts downplay your accomplishments. You know what you’ve done with what you were given to do it. And yes, you done good. (As they say.) And finally, even though nobody else may know who you are, what you do matters and that will always be remembered.

See, even in ongoing madness you can find some of life’s lessons learned. But then, it is supposed to be a college tournament.