Saturday, October 26, 2024

Is It Time? by Liz Flaherty

Gallery 15 Photo by Sarah Luginbill

Thanks to everyone who joined in the "Night at the Gallery" last night. It was so much fun seeing and talking to people, laughing a lot (and maybe occasionally inappropriately), seeing old and dear friends, and meeting friends I hadn't met before. Plus there was food. I just love food. 

I don't have a plan for the Window today. Like many others, I'm more consumed than I like by the upcoming election. Following the news and social media is like watching a movie you don't really like that much but feel compelled to see how it ends. 

There are two sides to that coin, of course. I like and am fascinated by politics. I like the two-party system, abhor gerrymandering and the electoral college, and am sick to death of having our financial strings pulled by people who never have to choose between buying groceries and paying the mortgage. 

That aside, I know we need  much more rain than the teaser we got the other day, but I swear this is the most beautiful autumn I can remember. The temperatures are wonderful, the foggy mornings are inviting, and the show the sun puts on at both ends of the day is amazing. We got a glorious viewing of the Northern Lights (if we remembered, but those pictures were wonderful if we didn't) and so many opportunities to look at the moon and think it's probably never been so beautiful before. 

I am grateful. 

Readership of the Window has decreased markedly, as in if I were a wailer instead of a whiner, I'd be wailing, No one likes me anymore! Truthfully, I don't think that's it. I have the same friends I've had for a long time, plus some new ones. There are many I can't talk politics with, a few I can't talk religion with, and a quite a few who are a whole lot smarter than I am, but we're still friends.

Once again, I am grateful.

I keep saying it's time to close the Window, but I'm not ready for that yet. Maybe I just need to take it in a different direction, but my internal GPS isn't giving me any ideas. Some days, I think blogging is in a "winter of discontent," but I really don't believe that, either. Times are too exciting and some of us are too hopeful for that to be the case. 


With all this said--without a plan, no less--I'll wind this up and have another cup of coffee. I wish you a good week, good friends, exciting times, and a season of hope. Happy Halloween. Be nice to somebody. 




Saturday, October 19, 2024

"Are You Sixty Yet?" by Liz Flaherty

"Are you sixty yet?"

I wish I'd grinned at him and said, "Just." But I didn't. I gaped and then I grinned and said, "Well past it, but thank you."

I usually forget to ask for the senior discount available in a lot of places, and I think servers and cashiers are reluctant to offer it because they don't want to insult anyone by (1) referring to their age or (2) being wrong about their age. They also don't want to open themselves to the flak offered up by people who don't even want their age noticed, much less acknowledged. I don't blame anyone a bit for not stepping into that particular fray. 

There are downsides to being well past sixty, many of them having to do with worn out joints, deteriorating senses, medical appointments, and pillboxes on the counter. Forgetfulness, slowing reflexes, and invisibility create fears not unlike the ones in adolescence, when it seemed as if no one liked you, everyone was cooler than you, and your parents didn't understand squat. 

With the downsides, there are sometimes tradeoffs. Losing people is incredibly hard, but having had them is like the sun rising and setting--it's a gift every single day. Generally retirement income is less. Sometimes the kind of less that means choices between food and medication, food and new shoes, food and rent. The discount that is often offered is both appreciated and, in some cases, necessary. While being invisible to so many can be hurtful, sometimes being left alone is a blessing. Privacy offers benefits.  

I have to admit, for some of the over-sixty crowd, age is open season for being rude, for feeling entitled, for disrespecting every demographic except their own. As much as I despise hearing Hey, Boomer, I sometimes understand the reason for it. I still remember the man standing in the express line at Marsh in Logansport with his full cart of groceries. He'd stood in line all his life, he said, it was "their" turn now. Behind him, on the feet I'd been standing on for eight hours, I didn't appreciate him a bit. I still don't. 

Just speaking for myself, of course, I don't think anyone's entitled to that kind of rudeness--even ones like me, who are...well, almost 60.

I know I've talked about age a gazillion times on this blog. I can almost hear there she goes again whistling in on the cool October wind. But mostly I just wanted to tell about Ed, the guy with the smile at My Pizza My Way, who said, "Are you sixty yet?" and made my day. I wanted to thank him. 

On the 25th, stop by Gallery 15 from 6:30-8:00 PM for a book signing with Debby Myers, Kathy Oldfather, Joe DeRozier, and me. Buy a book or two, listen to the readings at 7:00, peruse the beautiful art, and visit a while. 

Have a good week. Notice somebody--and be nice to them. 







Saturday, October 12, 2024

Keeping It Rosy by Liz Flaherty

Sean Dietrich

"Apostle Paul would tell us keep those rosy shades of faith." - from a comment on Sean Dietrich's column. Just because I liked it a lot and reminded me to be grateful even when things aren't especially...rosy.


While I don't have trouble "keeping the faith," it's not always rosy. Not always easy. Sometimes it's hard. Respecting others' faith when they use is as a weapon to hurt people they don't like is impossible. Respecting their right to have that faith is a little easier, but not at all rosy.

But sometimes it is easy. When nurses on horseback, and linemen from all over, and 1000s of FEMA employees go toward trouble instead of away from it, it's easy to have faith in humankind.

When catastrophes strike others, the often promised thoughts and prayers are easy. When I came out here this morning well before daylight and heard the hum of the combines and saw their bright lights in nearby fields, it was easy to mumble, "Keep them safe."


It's easy to pray when school buses are on the road before and after school. To be thankful for kids who give of their time and sometimes their muscles to help others. To remember “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." (John 13:34)

When you have enough and others don't, it's easy to share whether you have the same values or not. It's even easier when you just think about your own values instead of giving a lot of attention to theirs.

If you are a person of faith, it's easier to tell the truth than otherwise. Especially because if you're laying a groundwork of lies, you have to remember what they were. If you choose to believe the liar, what does that say about your faith? Or you?

In case you think I'm sounding more righteous than I'm entitled to, you have a good point. I was not a truth-telling child. I don't like when people take advantage of charity just because they can and they'd rather not work. I judge them even though I know better. Sometimes faith is easy because I'm not the one doing the work, bearing the burden, mourning the loss.

I don't have an end for this, because it's not something that ends. Faith is ongoing, doing for others is ongoing, catastrophes are ongoing, truth--although it's often buried--is ongoing, loving one another is ongoing.

Have a good week. Pray for others if that's what you do, simply wish for the greater good if it's not. Stay safe. Be nice to somebody.





Wednesday, October 9, 2024

Tales from Behind the Bakery Door by Joe DeRozier


Have you started thinking about Christmas, yet?

If you're like me, you'll wait until the last minute and then have to scrabble around trying to find gifts and stocking stuffers that don't look like...
... well, that don't look like you waited until the last minute and had to scramble around.

My books from the "Tales From Behind The Bakery Door" collection can be a quick and affordable solution.

Six short story collections that blend humor, wit, and heart, while exploring themes of family, friendship, military life, and more.
1. I Don't Know... I Just Make Donuts
2. My Dog Pees When Company Arrives... I'm Glad I Don't
3. Of the 2971-Mile Trip... 75,000 of It Was Nebraska
4. One Day... Your Advice Will Also Be Ignored
5. The Pond and Wet Clothes... I Can't Stop Smelling Them
6. Sometimes Therapy Is... Just Good Friends in an Abandoned House

 (This is a pre-order and won't be available in print until April '25)

You can purchase the books from me directly for $10 (Paperback) or $13 (Hardcover) plus shipping. I can accept PayPal, Venmo, or for those long in the tooth like myself, a check.

or

You can order them through Amazon.
Contact Information
Email: joederozier@yahoo.com
Website: joederozierbooks.com
Facebook: @Joederozier... I just make donuts
Amazon: (Tales From Behind the Bakery Door)
https://a.co/d/2BVrluU

Joe DeRozier

Saturday, October 5, 2024

Retreat... by Liz Flaherty

A couple of times a year, my friend Nan Reinhardt take three or four days (or six!) and to on a writing retreat. Usually we're finishing a book (me) or starting one (Nan), and we're tired before we even start. 

We know we're lucky to be able to do this, that we have husbands who keep the home fires burning, that our kids and grandkids don't need us on a daily basis (I'm still a little wounded by that, but not terribly), and that our houses are perfectly happy to not have us to clean it and/or hang the toilet paper the right way. 

And, yes, my house is happier than Nan's because I'm the worst housekeeper on the planet and that's not going to change any time soon. Ever. That's not going to change ever. 

But I'm regressing and trying to be funny when the subject matter is really kind of serious. I hear and read a lot about mental illness and I've made no secret of taking an antidepressant.  We know the political and social media situations are toxic. We know respect for others is more of a meme than an actuality in way too many cases. 

Hence, retreat. No, louder. 

We were gone for six days. The only time we turned on the TV was to watch the vice-presidential debate. Social media was way down on our scale of interest, far below writing, eating, talking, and laughing. It was a great week. 

I'm not saying it's necessary to spend a week in South Haven, Michigan--although I recommend it--to get away from "what ails you." You can do it anywhere. You can do it by closing doors on things and people who create havoc in your soul, turning off devices that have you lying awake at night, not responding to the instigators, watching the sunset, watching the colors change. You can escape by acknowledging kindness and passing it on, by sitting with friends and telling terrible jokes, and by eating soup and pie; it is autumn, after all. 

Enough advice from me for one day. I'm late getting this posted and I have unpacking to do, but I'm wishing you all a good week and a gentle retreat. Be nice to somebody.