When We Were Young(er) #NEHS135

When We Were Young(er) #NEHS135

Wasn’t 1976 just a few years ago? It’s been decided by about 180 classmates at our 40th reunion that 58 is indeed – the new 48. The heck with our biological age. We look fabulous.

rhawnhurst1Our high school class had about 1,100 students – huge by any high school standard. We are the tail end of the Baby Boomers; the beginning of GenX. Stories of life I listened to throughout our event made me believe even more deeply that our lives are certainly what we mold them to be. We share journeys of our lives – loves and likes, divorces and new marriages, triumphs and challenges – all were inspiring.

There were so many faces that I did not remember – until I connected their name on their tag with the 1976 yearbook face; I’d scan up from the name tag to their face – and their 2016 face was now completely in focus. My new impressions of those faces – Elizabeth, Patty, Marci, Nancy, Ed, Eric, another Ed, Frank, Nick, Janet, Margot, Debbie, Temi, and even my Wing Man, Marc, Jack Merle, Sharon, Aaron, Cindi, Ellen, Mark, the other Mark, Bruce, Harris, Abbe, Howard – and so many others – fill the card file in my brain.

As I was getting ready for the reunion, I did not want to go. I had many things to take care of in my present day life, I did not want to revisit the past. Oh, am I img_2533glad I took the time to be with all these people last night. Because of social media, conversations, in many cases were jump-started by, “So, you have a new house in New Hampshire,” and “Wow, I saw you have two grandchildren.” It’s incredible how many times I was ask, “Are you retired?” or “Are you retired – yet?” Geez – that option is really not on the radar screen.

It’s wonderful some folks at the gathering are retired or semi-retired. Many are traveling, sitting back and enjoying the many years of working so hard to create the lifestyle they want at this vibrant age. Someone practically yelled at me when I mentioned I was concerned that we might only have a good 15 years to enjoy our New Hampshire home the way we want to. And we ended that quick conversation with ‘the 70s will be the new 50s.’

img_2531There were people who could not be at the reunion – and I missed seeing them. They had their reasons; if you are reading this – know that so many people asked about you and hope you are well.

So, I put the dress I wore last night back in the closet. I’m downloading some photos and paging through the class of ’76 yearbook one more time before I put it back on the shelf . I’m so grateful for the memories past and now present – adding to my card file of people and their lives that help me forge ahead toward a happy, new beginning.

The Written Word

The Written Word

When your children and your children’s children go through the family things some day, what will they find? Perhaps not our generation, but surely our children’s generation one thing that will not be passed down is the written word.

oldlettersOver the weekend, I hauled into the house from an old desk stored in the garage, a drawer filled with my life. Most of what was stowed away for years was from the early years in my radio career, but I also discovered high school memorabilia I thought was long gone – and frankly, I hadn’t even thought about it for decades. What I found that was most meaningful, were cards and letters from friends and family members.

There’s a letter from my ‘mom-mom’ who died in 1995. The letter is dated December 31, 1981. She tucked into the note another note that she received from a niece of my late grandfather. She listened to me on the radio back then and was so glad to have that connection. My grandmother wrote how proud she was of me.

A letter from my elementary school gym teacher dated November 10, 1981 wrote of how he and my other two favorite teachers had formed a ‘fan’ club and how they too, were listening to me on WMGK and were proud. I found letters from radio fans who talked about their lives and how connected they felt listening to me and the people I worked with. Most important were all the letters my brother wrote me when he was in the Air Force. This was in the early to mid 1980’s. These letters are particularly significant because my brother suffered a life-changing accident during his time in the Air Force and lost the use of his right arm. The letters he wrote before the accident describe his homesickness as well as the fun he was having seeing other places and meeting new people. He ultimately me his wife – and they lived happily ever after. But it was emotional for me to read the handwriting he had before the accident. He learned how to use his left hand and has done extremely well over the past 20+ years.

What will the next generation have to look through when they look at their history? Emails, documents, blog posts like this, a Google search. The written word – putting pen to paper – is often from our hearts and minds. The physical act of writing, not typing, is somehow therapeutic.  While writers today do indeed express themselves well by typing words, too often a majority of people so dislike writing that they shorten everything down. “R u going 2nite? OMG me 2. C u l8tr.”

When I work with clients and we are able to get media coverage, I always encourage them to write a ‘thank you’ to the reporter. If they want to type out an email, that’s OK, but looking at these files of handwritten cards I have – many of then ‘thank yous,’ I am so incredibly glad I’m a little bit of a pack rat. For me, there’s nothing like a personal card that someone had to choose or just find that blank sheet of paper to write a thoughtful few lines or more to offer their thanks.

The letters from my grandmother and my brother and some friends are a part of me. They describe personal history that was going on back then and how they were interwoven in my life. My grandmother has been gone for years, but to read these letters I found makes me know that she was a part of me – and I of her. I can hear her laughing right now – probably after telling a dirty joke.

Consider writing a card the next time you need to get in touch with someone. It’s worth the time and effort; and on the other end of that card, there is probably a friend, family member, colleague or someone you listen to, who will tuck that card in a file for safe keeping.

 

The Bright Side of Life

Half-empty, half full – there are really only two ways to look at things when life throws you curve balls. After  a week that involved a few roller coasters, I am now on the other side realizing that I am mainly one of those half-full kind of gals.

Girls_VA_20121110_04 - CopyWe had a great dinner with neighbors Friday night that changed my perspective a bit. We had socialized with them numerous times several years ago and then stopped hanging out with them. The reasons don’t matter now. What’s important is first, my husband and the other husband organized the evening. That in itself was reason to enjoy the evening. I didn’t have to do the ‘heavy’ lifting. It seems I always take the reins on planning things – because I like to – but it is a lot of work.

The evening started out on a great note. Doug and I walked over to their house where their car was warming up in the driveway; our friends were not in the car. Had we been a minute earlier, we were going to jump in the back seat and give them quite a scare – but in a hysterical way. Immediately I remembered how I enjoy laughing with that couple.

For two-and-a-half hours we enjoyed sushi, stories about how each couple met, our children and their ups and downs and our lives in general. We ended up back at their house for coffee. For a dinner I thought would take no longer than  two hours, we enjoyed a full evening of conversation and camaraderie.

In November, I spent a girl’s weekend with two women I met nearly 30 years ago. It was as if we had never been apart. We’re having dinner next weekend with friends we met in 1989. I feel as though that evening will be filled with laughter and reminiscing.

With age, we gain perspective, understanding and well, a mellower approach to things that happen in our lives. As they say, don’t sweat the small stuff. I’ll add to that remember why you love the small stuff and spend more time enjoying each moment in time.

 

Always With Me

It may be grim, but I have been reading the obituaries for years. Perhaps because I was in the news business or just out of morbid curiosity, I would read the ‘obits’ on the way to work when I was a full-time radio reporter/news anchor. the practice has continued through the years. Sometimes I’d spot a former neighbor or the mother of a friend or a teacher from my past. I’m always filled with wonder about how someone lived their life; who loved them; who is grieving their loss.
Death is a fact of life as the saying goes. How we choose to remember people in our lives after they’ve passed is a very personal thing. I am fortunate to have both of my parents. Memories, old letters and cards and items they’ve given me through the years become more precious. I cherish my dad’s fireman boots and his Philadelphia Fire Department helmet – the old-fashioned kind that weigh about 10 pounds; I cherish my mom’s handwriting on recipe cards and postcards I’ve collected through the years.

(L-R) Ken Breskin, Doug Breskin and Greg Breskin; Doug's 40th birthday, Feb. 1999

(L-R) Ken Breskin, Doug Breskin and Greg Breskin; Doug’s 40th birthday, Feb. 1999

My husband lost his dad in October of 2000. His death came after a fairly short but painful illness. I’m certain not a day goes by that my husband doesn’t think of his dad in some way.

We were spending holiday time with his family, including his sister and brother when Doug showed his brown, leather gloves to his sister and asked,” Do you know where I got these?” The gloves were his dad’s. I never knew that those leather gloves meant so much to Doug until he said,” When I’m wearing them, I imagine I’m holding dad’s hand.”

Very sweet.