“What fresh hell is this” when a political candidate promises to get us out of the war we’ve already been in for 5 years — in another 5 years.  Yesterday John McCain offered his vision of the end of the war in Iraq.  According to McCain he sees us completely out of Iraq in 2013, effectively promising us a 10 year war.  What kind of vision is that!!  Sounds more like a nightmare to me.

I thought getting in the war on March 20, 2003 was a bad move even with the lightweight ”intelligence” about weapons of mass destruction.  But once we were there, I hoped that there would be a time when we could extricate American soldiers from what became a no-win situation.  

But instead of getting us out of the war in Iraq, current wisdom has kept us hanging around the Middle East trying to bring democracy to a part of the world that doesn’t want it.  When you consider that democracy doesn’t always work so well over here why do we repeatedly wrap it up in a big red, white and blue ribbon and try to give it away as the ultimate gift. 

Come on already.  How many more lives will be lost on both sides after 5 more years of war?  Quite frankly it doesn’t matter whether you vote red or blue.  Getting out of the war in Iraq shouldn’t be about politics or political rhetoric.  It should be about peace.  

OK, I’m done with my rant.  And to replace the vision of a 10 year war with one about peace, here’s a favorite video of mine on the subject:

Have any of you ever had a best friend — that person who knows you better than anyone else and who loves you unconditionally, flaws and all?  The person who shares the ups and downs with you and never complains when you don’t always get the lesson that life is offering?  The person who is always in your corner and always in your prayers? 

Well I have that best friend.  For purposes of this post, I’m going to refer to her as “Susan”.  Susan and I have been friends for almost 50 years.  We met when we were 6 years old.  I remember that day when our dads were standing by my backyard talking and all of a sudden 2 little heads popped up in her dad’s convertible parked at the curb.  It was Susan and her little brother who had been hiding in the back seat.

We had such fun growing up together.  We loved Motown, hula hoops, JFK and Jackie, pajama parties, Ouija boards and Barbie dolls.  Amazingly Susan still has her collection of Barbie dolls and accessories.  We screamed over the Beatles together–driving our dads crazy on the carpool rides back and forth to school–Paul was her favorite, George was mine. 

As we got older, boys became a favorite of the many life issues we discussed.  From high school on, any man who came into either of our lives was analyzed, dissected and determined jointly to be either the right or wrong one to hold an important place in our hearts.  Sometimes — oddly never at the same time, one of us would end up with a broken heart.  Always the other would be there to console, advise and share the unique combination of tears and laughter that best friends like Susan and I have perfected.

When Susan and I moved in the our respective roles as mothers, our children became the beneficiaries of our friendship.  You know the saying that:

It takes a village to raise a child.

Well together Susan and I formed that village for our kids.  We shared and compared child-rearing advice and experiences.  We shook our heads and commiserated as our children navigated through some of the same stormy waters we did in our youth.  And again, our friendship helped us stay the course of motherhood just like every other aspect of our lives. 

Now in midlife, Susan and I are entering a new phase of our friendship — the most difficult but I believe the most meaningful.  Susan has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s.  With a mother who has dementia,  I’ve grown somewhat used to the idea of an elderly person having this dreadful disease.  As you might imagine, nothing could have prepared me for my friend having Alzheimer’s at 56 years old. 

But for Susan and I, Alzheimer’s is but another blip on the big screen of our mega-friendship.  As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, best friends are there for one another through the ups and downs.  And so that will be for Susan and I.  Nothing — even Alzheimer’s — can change that.

We may be in midlife but, for many of us, it’s only halftime.      Al Gardner

I have enjoyed greatly the second blooming . . . suddenly you find - at the age of 50, say - that a whole new life has opened before you.      Agatha Christie

You can only perceive real beauty in a person as they get older.      Anouk Aimee

Aging is not “lost youth” but a new stage of opportunity and strength.      Betty Freidan

In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things and happy in small ways.       Edith Wharton

Young.  Old.  Just words.      George Burns

Halftime is a pause in midlife to look back and reflect on who we are and what we have accomplished  - then to redirect our time and talent for the second half of life.       Bob Buford

Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.       Anonymous

Turn your midlife crisis to your own advantage by making it a time for renewal of your body and mind, rather than stand by and helplessly watch them decline.       Jane E. Brody

Midlife’s a trip!  Enjoy the ride.       Karen Batchelor

I remember from my childhood that the mothers in our neighborhood didn’t just mother their own children but all of us. Those mothers, like many others, saw their role as reaching beyond the boundaries of family. They knew intuitively–somehow, someway–that it truly “takes a village to raise a child”.

As we gather with our families and loved ones today to celebrate the wonderful mothers in our lives, this video is a reminder of that more global role of motherhood and how the collective power of mothers can move us towards a world filled with peace.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful mothers who visit here at Midlife’s A Trip. I’m wishing you a day of love and peace.

Always,

Karen

“Let’s get together soon.”  I can’t even remember how many times I’ve said this to family and friends with all good intentions of actually getting together.  And then we don’t.  Has this ever happened to you?

This week some of those vague promises of “getting together” have turned into wonderful reality.  For instance, I spent several days visiting with my cousin who came in from Bermuda and stayed with me.  He’s my age and we spent some great time together talking about the trials and tribulations of our respective journeys through midlife.  We talked, laughed and gave each other lots of cousin-ly advice.  After all the times we promised to get together soon, we finally did. 

And today, I had lunch with a new friend, someone I’ve known for years and have gotten to know better over the past year.  She’s about to make the major midlife transition of retiring.  We talked about the things she wants to do in this next phase of midlife and we compared our lists of 100 things about each other.  It was surreal how many things we have in common–both eldest children, same personality type and myriad of other things.  We have been promising to get together soon.  And what fun we had when we did. 

Tomorrow I have to attend a family funeral.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been to funerals where I say to family and friends that we should get together on happy occasions not just the sad ones.  And we all stand around and agree that we will “get together soon”.  And then we don’t.  

We used to depend on the our older generation of parents, aunts and uncles to make the fun family gatherings happen.  With many of them now gone, it’s up to the midlife cousins to arrange the happy times together.  So I commit here in this post to help plan a picnic this summer where several generations of cousins can come together for an event that’s not shrouded in grief.  It doesn’t have to be fancy and complicated.  Our family picnics never were.  It just has to be an opportunity for us to get together soon. 

And this time I believe we will.

My Aunt Irene died last week.  Aunt Irene was not a woman of complexities or innuendo.  She was known for saying what she meant and meaning what she said.  Everyone who knew and loved her understood that. 

So on a spring Monday 2 weeks ago when Aunt Irene said that she didn’t want anything to eat or drink and that she was “ready”, her family understood what she meant.  Aunt Irene was tired of life without my uncle who died last year and still grieving for her son who died a year earlier.  She was tired of the blindness and chronic illness that filled her later years.  And she was tired of the revolving door in and out of the hospital.  So Aunt Irene said “no more”.  And when Aunt Irene talked, everyone listened.

I visited her last week.  I used to kid her about not eating back when my uncle was dying.  I would cajole her and we’d banter back and forth about when and what she would promise to eat.  I reminded her about our past dialogs on food.  She smiled.  I asked her if she would eat a little something.  Aunt Irene smiled again but gave me a firm and loving “No”.  In that moment I understood that she was letting go.  We hugged and I told her I loved her.  I knew this was our goodbye. 

I have such respect for my cousin Brenda, Aunt Irene’s daughter and others like her who allow the elderly to be heard about life’s end .  As I get older and witness the passing of my loved ones, I realize more and more that the wishes of the dying are the ultimate case for honor and dignity.  To the extent that we Baby Boomers understand this, we lay a firm foundation for our wishes to be heard and respected at life’s end.

One of the major stops on my midlife trip has been becoming a professional life coach. Yes I know, some of you are wondering what the heck that is.

Well, a life coach helps you turn your dreams into reality — basically get from where you are to where you want to be. An amazing part of my learning to be a coach was finding my own coach — the remarkable Merci Miglino!

Merci’s unique coaching style of humor, wisdom and enthusiasm kept me on target to getting my coaching certification. More importantly, though, she was one of my biggest cheerleaders as I discovered and embraced the “real” me or as Merci puts it:

The Karen-est Karen I can be!!

Now I could go on and on about how Merci has helped me establish a practice where I coach others like me on the midlife trip. But why not just let you see Merci in action. So if you can use a little fun and inspiration in your Sunday, take 10 minutes to watch Merci in “From Doormat to Diva”:

Thank you Merci.

   Today is ”commentmania” at Midlife’s A Trip.  I know there are a number of you who visit regularly, even daily and I’d love to hear from you because sometimes I feel alone here on the page.  So would you leave a little comment to this post– maybe your age, where you’re from, what’s been the best and worst of your midlife trip or whatever moves you.  For inspiration or commiseration, I’m 56 years old, from Michigan and my midlife includes:

The Worst

1. Losing my dad–my hero.
2. Menopause — the hot flashes, the night sweats, the brain fog — need I say more.
3. My best friend of 50 years being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at 55 years old.

The Best

1. Becoming an aunt when my midlife sister adopted a beautiful 3 week old baby girl!
2. Menopause - I remember the day I purged all the feminine products from the bathroom cabinet for good!
3. My new career as a professional life coach.

I can’t wait to hear from you!

How many of you have parents or grandparents who just don’t, won’t or can’t learn the computer technology needed to connect them to email?  Well HP, the tech giant has solved the problem with  creation of the HP Printing Mailbox.  It works with a service called Presto and allows you to send email, documents and photos from your camera and cellphone to a loved one who doesn’t do email. 

Whatever you send comes out of the HP Mailbox at a scheduled time in a single sheet ready for the recipient to pick-up and read.  Here’s a recent testimonial:

It is a remarkable product that lets anyone receive email and attached photos, or PDF documents without the hassle and expense of a computer or Internet connection.  It’s easy to set up and simple to use.  All you need is an existing phone line and electrical outlet.  Now our whole family can send Mom email and photos that are transformed into beautiful, full-color printouts.  Messages are printed automatically, so all she has to do is pick them up off of the Printing Mailbox, read and enjoy!

It sounds so user-friendly I almost want one myself.  You can even subscribe to a variety of magazine articles at no extra charge that will be delivered at the specified time you program into the mailbox.  And there’s not a lot of maintenance involved beyond the periodic ink cartridge and paper. 

This could be a great gift for seniors or anyone else who’s a non-techie that you want to stay in touch with.  The mailbox itself is around $150 and the Presto service about $10/month.  Although this isn’t cheap, it’s a thoughtful gift from a tech-savvy family to a loved one.  And consider that as Mother’s and Father’s Days roll around, this might be the gift the whole family can chip in on to bring a smile every day to the non-techie they love.

  The third “What Fresh Hell Is This” award goes to the diabolical dad in Austria who imprisoned his daughter and made her a victim of incest for nearly a quarter of a century.  And that is turning out to be only the tip of the iceberg of crimes committed by the man now known as “Josef F” as DNA tests confirmed that he fathered 7 children with his daughter.  If you need details, there’s enough news coverage out there to meet all of your needs.  But suffice it to say that he wrecked massive and unbelievable devastation on his own family in ways that defy all comprehension. 

I remember meeting a woman years ago, who was in a class I taught on genealogy.  When we got to the point of filling out the pedigree or generation chart, she was stumped.  After class, this woman came up to me and said:

My father is my grandfather and my mother is my aunt.

Even though I’m pretty knowledgeable about genealogy and family history, I confess I was stumped too.  But as we talked further, it became painfully clear that my student was the daughter of an incest victim.  I was stunned and saddened as my student shared the circumstances of her birth and how her father/grandfather ended up going to prison for his crime.  I remembered hearing the pain in her voice as she related her family’s terrible story. 

As I read the story of the awful situation in Austria, I wondered how my former student has fared over the years.  Although she and her mother weren’t held captive in a basement cell like the family in Austria, I imagine that the stain of incest can be its own lifelong prison.  

I’m saying a prayer for them all.