Monday, April 25, 2011


By Lois
I ask myself this question. --
Do I really need to know about Facebook, Twitter, I-Pods, I-Phones, I-Pads and all the rest?

I may as well admit it….I’m on Facebook! Well, sort of. Here’s how it happened. My dear 29 year old grandson forced me into it by sending me some promised pictures….on FaceBook. The only way I could see the pictures was to join the dreaded FaceBook.

So, that’s what I did, and here is what happened.

First, I had to enter a password. So, I did that. Let me stop right here and give you a little advice about passwords. Pick one you can easily remember and use it on everything you need a password for.You’ve guessed it, after entering my FaceBook password, I neglected to record it along with my passwords for my computer, my e-mail, my home alarm and myriad other things.

But I digress. The next thing I knew I had 20 FaceBook friends, or that is what my e-mail was telling me. Mostly, they were people I like. I felt rather proud about that, but unfortunately I couldn’t answer them because I FORGOT MY PASSWORD.

Well, the messages kept piling up along with admonishments from FaceBook that I was ignoring my friends. Each time this happened I would try another password, but could never come up with the right one. Then a line would appear that I grew to hate - it said, “Forgot your password? Here’s a new one. All you have to do is type in this combination of words and you will be given a new password.”

"Okay," I said to myself, this should be easy. I scrolled down the page and there were something like 28 screwy words that looked something like this - MWLFTY except they weren’t in a straight line and were crazy looking.For three weeks every day I found myself screaming at my computer, “GIVE ME THE DAMN PASSWORD!”

Did you know there is no-one there? I always thought there was a Facebook central office or something equally sensible.

Now I just ignore it and all the new and old “friends” who, incidentally, have grown from 20 to 79. I’ll just have to wait until my grandson, who lives in the state of Washington and I am in Arizona, comes to see me at Christmas time.

P.S. I finally remembered my password and even receive written messages on my wall. I’ve also become a blogger - but no TWEETING. Here is the link to my other blog: Kids Without Stuff


Wednesday, April 20, 2011


By Phoebe

Ageless at 88? Yes and no. Does it sound ambiguous?
The mind is an endless source of ideas for the future, youthful and creative. However, my body is another story – Oy!
The joints from head to toe are corroded, rusty, squeaky, on fire and betray my youthful
spirit. Just the perils of growing older, not old, but older.

How does an elderly lady of eighty eight and a half escape the turmoil my body creates?
I write short stories, poetry and a novel. I delve into the worldly wisdom that has accumulated from an interesting life.  My beloved husband of almost sixty seven years is my cheerleader, nudging me on to new heights.  That is, if I can find the four inches I lost during the journey. Now that I am five feet three inches my feet rebel against wearing fancy high heels.  So I trudge up the hill in sneakers or sensible oxfords, hurting each step of the way. Do I cry? No, I laugh at the humorous sight in the mirror.

Can any of you on the internet relate to the picture I have painted in words? 
Please tell me your stories.

Lois writes
You might be interested in how I receive Phoebe’s posts. They come to me, handwritten, in the mail. I’m not kidding. Phoebe does not write on a computer. She can’t send them via e-mail or as an attachment. We rely on the U.S. Postal Service to get them from her to me.

Guess what

It works! Phoebe is such a wonderful writer. I don’t care how she manages to get her stories to my computer.

Saturday, April 9, 2011


  By Lois Jamieson

I once heard a wonderful sermon, given by the Rev. Phil Carlson, at my church St. Barnabas in the Desert. Father Phil has given me permission to share some of his thoughts with you. You don’t have to be an Episcopalian or even a Christian to appreciate his wisdom.

He spoke of the author Harry Golden, who grew up on the Lower East Side of New York City in the early part of the last century. In one of Mr. Golden’s essays he spoke of his mother’s faith in God. His father was an intellectual who spent a lot of his time discussing God. Golden wrote: “My mother, of course, thought all those discussions were nonsense. She cooked and sewed and cleaned for the family and the neighbors.  Even if a dish turned well she would not take credit. The credit went to God. My mother talked with God all the time, actual conversations.”

Out of this faith came one of the few English words she knew – ENJOY!

Golden wrote, “When my mother served our meals and placed before us a dish that may have turned out particularly well, she would always say Enjoy! Enjoy! The word covered hundreds of other situations. When the school had an outing and we all went off with our teachers, the last thing we heard going out the door was Enjoy! Enjoy!”

Father Phil went on to say, “For nearly fifty years Harry Golden’s mother’s faith and admonition have given illustration to a basic tenet of my Biblical faith – Enjoy!
God wants us to enjoy this life – and the next. The joy promised is not the mad dash for happiness we see in the proliferation of books on the subject, nor the ever expanding market for better living through chemistry, nor the preachers promising financial success.
Of course the promised joy is happiness, but it is also sadness. It is deeper than both.
It is a mystery that keeps opening to us as we walk life’s way. And it is a gift.”

He continued, “In my life I have experienced the normal highs and lows, successes and failures, but I have never experienced anything catastrophic. If I do, it is my prayer that I will have the faith to experience the joy of those terminally sick persons who decide to spend their days living rather than dying. Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways totally worn out shouting Wow what a ride!”

Out of her life of faith Harry Golden’s mother said it all, “Enjoy! Enjoy!”

Thank you Father Phil for these words of wisdom.

Kids Without Stuff
Simple Parent Tips

Tuesday, April 5, 2011


By Phoebe Maurer

 Why is aging a conundrum, and when does the puzzle start?
Does it start at 40-50-60-70-80 or on the day we enter the world crying?
Seniors are living longer productive lives, but not without precarious moments.
I am 88, have self-published a novel, still seeking answers, need to broaden my overview of life. There are so many questionable subjects which have changed me as I continue to mature.

"Life is a dream” was my mother’s answer to aging. Now I echo her thought differently.

 It is a kaleidoscope of vignettes that flash by rapidly in the blink of an eye.
My body sags, drags, rusts, creaks and often advises me to cease and desist moving for one day. However the brain never stops spewing out new ideas and scenarios.
My dear friend Lois, a mere 81, has prodded me to join her in a new venture. A nudge I needed to lift me out of the doldrums.

To rekindle and fire up a desire to fulfill another dream.