The fact that people are making a living off of videotaping a recommendation for a product and posting it on social media is the ultimate in lazy commercialism with a heavy focus on materialism. But you may ask…how do I really feel about the influencers phenonenom?

This whole influencer thing has me a bit miffed. And annoyed. And disturbed.

But rather than just spouting off with my opinion, I thought I should maybe do a little research. As I no longer have the Encyclopedia Britannica at my fingertips, I googled “influencers culture” and came to a post on LinkedIn that helped me understand at least one person’s view of the phenomenon. (There are also tons of memes, charts, articles, etc. on the internet describing the different types of influencers, levels of influencers, etc.) Since this is a blog and not a dissertation, my research is far from extensive.

Here’s how the author of the opinion piece defines the influencer culture: A sociological phenomena known as ‘influencer culture’ describes how people with sizable followings on social media sites like Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok have a considerable impact on the lifestyle and monetary decisions of their followers. Celebrities, sportsmen, and regular people can all be considered influencers if they have developed a sizable online fan base through the distribution of relevant content.”

Note that many influencers are moving away from the term and now call themselves “content creators”. I have to admit that it does have a less cringy sound even if the result is the same. But that phrase – online fan base – really gets me. Doesn’t fan come from fanatic? Just sayin’…

The author goes on to say that influencers are seen as “authorities” in their area – which in my mind just means they use the product that they promote…so long as they are being paid to do so. He also notes that businesses use influencers to reach new audiences for the promotion of their products or services. While this may seem like a brilliant marketing plan (inexpensive, new audience access, little effort, etc.), these product promoters are influencers in the weakest, least important sense of the world. Here’s the LinkedIn article I referenced: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/influencer-culture-its-impact-society-critical-rahul-singh#:~:text=A%20sociological%20phenomena%20known%20as,monetary%20decisions%20of%20their%20followers

Let me introduce you to a few of the real influencers in my life. But before I do, let me address my definition of the popular term. Fully realizing that I sound like my parents…”Back in my day…” influencers were people who helped us grow up to be contributing, caring adults. They modeled behaviors that showed the way to be a positive, compassionate human. And I had plenty of those people in my youth and beyond. I bet you did, too.

Of course, the first, most obvious and most important example of influencers in my life are my parents. I moved through childhood watching them demonstrate characteristics such as decency, kindness, care, responsibility, and compassion. They also demonstrated the integrity to do the right thing when “no one was looking”. Both of my parents were just old- fashioned upstanding humans. They worked hard, they contributed to their community and they held me accountable for my actions. And trust me, I didn’t always make that easy for them. Recently I was thinking about my mom who is 97 years old. She is still influencing me by showing me that though you may be old, tired, achy, frustrated, and bored, you can still be gracious, grateful, and kind.

Then there are all of those other adults who parented me or in today’s lexicon – influenced me. I’ll start by introducing you to a couple of VIP influencers in my life – Mr. and Mrs. P.  I was lucky enough to have a nice visit with them at their home last month and just visiting with them in their family room brought me a pure joy. Growing up, some might say I spent as much time in their house as I did in my own home so I can almost claim it as my own. On this visit, I was struck by Mrs. P’s smile and Mr. P’s giggle which brought back a rush of cherished memories from my years in which I was influenced by their kindness and guidance. Through their example, I learned lessons that I carry with me today. A few of the most important lessons I learned involve the many sleepovers I enjoyed there. I learned how to be a contributing member of a family unit, how to scrub a bathroom until it sparkled, how to share space (3 sisters plus me in a bedroom – I guess technically, they were learning to share space with me – haha), and how to joyfully get our chores done so the adventures of the day could begin.

Side story – On Saturday mornings after a Friday night high school sporting event, we woke up at 7:00 am to the sound of Mrs. P singing at the top of her lungs…Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day…She stood at the bottom of the stairs throwing the cleaning supplies to the top so that we would get up and get our day started. After she finished “Lemon Pledging” the living room furniture while singing “Me and Mrs. Jones” at the top of her lungs, we found her in the kitchen cooking up some scrumptious breakfast to reward our efforts upstairs.

But most importantly, Mr. and Mrs. P showed me the value of love, plain, simple love. I never entered their home without being greeted with a smile, a kind word, and the warmest of welcomes. (Usually there was some homemade treat or a meal, too.) I know this made me feel special and I also know that this is how they treated everyone. But sometimes I like to kid myself and think that that joyful greeting was just for me because that’s how they made me feel. And as I experienced on my recent visit, they still do make me feel that way. Thanks to their influence, I find that in my daily interactions, I try to have a kind word, share a smile and a happy greeting, and I try to approach life with a sense of joy…just like I learned on Brookhill Avenue.

“Influencers” don’t just exist in one’s childhood. I don’t want to forget the influencers of my adult professional life. As a young, lonely, scared first-year-teacher in Salinas, Sherry and Jim “adopted” me by welcoming me into their home with their young teenage kids. They showed me the importance of mentoring others entering the profession and what it meant to be a committed, creative, caring teacher while finding balance in life. They also demonstrated the importance of being a life-long learner and setting goals.

Side story – Sherry and I lost touch over the years, but thanks to Facebook we reconnected. Recently, Glen and I were heading home from Hawaii and as we were getting settled in our seats…who should board after us, but Jim and Sherry! I would have known them anywhere as after more than 30 years since we’ve been together, they haven’t changed a bit…except maybe hair color? (Trust me…it happens to the best or us.) After the flight, we met up at the baggage claim for a quick hug and chat.

While teaching in Chico, my next door “neighbor”, Dolly showed me what it meant to be a full-of-life 60+ year old teacher. I always had her in the corner of my mind as I got closer to 60. I knew that just like her, I could grow up to be an effective, positive, creative, innovative teacher all the way to the end of my career, even if I was starting to get tired! (Which I was…)

Diane was my “work partner” for decades. She showed me what it means to be a true partner in a job – how to grow together, how to support each other when there are struggles, how to cheer for our successes, and how to learn from our failures. She supported me through life’s personal struggles by lending an ear and a shoulder and by always having an encouraging word. But mostly, she modeled the value of enduring generosity and friendship.

My Cambridge “golden years” colleagues (you know who you are) taught me how to laugh through all the challenges. They helped me understand that the hard work of reflection was the was the only path to personal and professional growth. They also taught me that an occasional cry was a healthy sign that I cared and that after the tears, we just get ourselves up, we brush ourselves off and we start all over again; always with the goal of improving our craft to support our students. These phenomenal women showed me how to dream of the possibilities, of the change we could be. Coincidentally, I had a conversation just yesterday with a former colleague and we threw out the question…How can we fix “it”? How can we be part of the solution? Still dreamin’…

These are only some of the people who made me who I am. They are some of my real influencers. They didn’t try to sell me anything. They didn’t try to convince me that my life would be better if I only had another jar of cream for my aging skin. They didn’t give me a one minute sales pitch with shiny lights and music. They influenced me through their example, through their love, and through their wisdom.

It turns out that TikTok, YouTube and Instagram – these are not the places where I go to find my influencers. As Mr. Rogers said…I look for the helpers. And I look for the examples – examples of real people in my life who demonstrate the qualities I admire – the ones who made me the person I am today and the person I hope that I grow into being…because when you think you’re done, you’ve only just begun.

PS Once a teacher, always a teacher – Two phrases in this post come straight out of my classroom and I can hear myself singing them with my kids:

First…we just get ourselves up, we brush ourselves off and we start all over again…

Second…when you think you’re done, you’ve only just begun…

And I guarantee that my own kids’ eyes are rolling in the back of their heads hearing those phrases again!

Maybe my strong opinions about “names” started when I was young and realized that I’d been named after my two favorite aunts – Auntie Joyce and Auntie Barbie (her middle name is Elaine). I never got a straight answer from my parents about why they chose those names.

My dad was named after his birth father-he was a “junior” to Onslow Thompson, but he changed his name at eight when he was adopted by his step-dad, Hugh Densmore. He chose to legally be Edmund Richardson Densmore (also ER Densmore – he has so many names it’s hard to keep track), but he went by Tom or Tommy. In fact, as an adult, many of his best and longest friends still called him Tommy.

My mom was baptized in the Catholic church (her dad was Catholic). She had a l – o – n – g name…Mary Elizabeth Veronica Vars…but she always went by Betty. Go figure. Now her nameplate on her door says “Mary” and all the nurses call her Mary. When I call and ask for Betty, I always have to correct myself in order to find her.

Neither of my sisters are named after family members – well Karen Alice I guess is named after Grandma Alice, but Christine Joy? Nope. In fact they thought Chris was going to be a boy and she would therefore be a Christopher. So had they just run out of names for girls when I rolled around or did they simply want to honor their sisters or…???

I watched my parents over the years as they dealt with multiple names – legal versus common. It was often a bit of a conundrum to remember which name to use for which purpose. I mean…when I was signing my own absence notes in high school using my dad’s signature…which name should I use for the forgery? Tom Densmore? ER Densmore? Turns out it didn’t matter…I got caught. Though even Dad admitted the forgery was pretty good!

So that brings me to my first “adult” self-naming experience. When I started student teaching in 1982, what “honorific” should the kids use for me? Miss Densmore? Ms. Densmore? (I had to look up what those are called and ChatGPT says they are “honorifics”.) I chose Ms. because I figured it was nobody’s business if I were married or not – so Ms. Densmore it was and my first adult personal naming decision was made.

Then came Glen. When I met Glen it was awhile before I found out that his mom’s name was Joyce. Now…it’s not her “given” name as her name is actually Dorothy Joyce, but she always went by Joyce. I remember being at The Bear in Chico when Glen’s college friend, Russell gave him a bad time about a girlfriend with his mom’s name. For years, Joyce and I teased each other about how the family should refer to us…Joyce 1 and 2? Big Joyce and LIttle Joyce? Mature Joyce and Immature Joyce? I teased her that we were going to start calling her Dorothy. No nicknames quite clicked so none ever stuck. In the end, I’m happy that I share her name because she was an incredible mother-in-law – more like a mom, really.

And then marriage. I won’t go into a rant about the history of women changing their name to their husband’s last name. (Not all cultures do it that way.) I had a strong feeling about keeping Densmore in my name because I was the last “Densmore” in our family tree (though it was my dad’s adopted name, not his biological father’s name – I guess I should have switched to Thompson if that were my issue). Glen just said…I don’t care what you do with your name; I’m not changing mine.

So I decided on Ms. Joyce Elaine Densmore-Thomas.

Now over the years that decision has provided myriad complications. I mean…in 1989 there was no issue with a hyphen because everything was handwritten, but when we started doing everything digitally…phew – sometimes my name was too long so it got shortened by a machine, sometimes it wouldn’t take a hyphen, sometimes it chose to use Densmore without Thomas, sometimes Thomas without Densmore, saying and spelling Densmore-Thomas on the phone was too long so I often just used Thomas and then didn’t remember that I did that…

Who knew that a long email address of densmorethomasj@work email…was going to be such a pain in the *%# to write/type into so many websites…the challenges go on and on.

But was I sorry that I chose Densmore-Thomas? Never. It’s my name. It’s my identity. It’s how I’m known. I chose it. I live with the consequences – good and bad.

So here we are today where I am now officially 65 years old. And guess what that apparently means? It means that Medicare gets to choose my name. After applying, I started receiving mail addressed to Joyce Thomas. I was like…why am I getting Glen’s mom’s mail (who passed away almost 2 years ago)? Who is this “Joyce Thomas”? Turns out, it’s me according to Medicare and now according to everything related to Medicare – insurance, prescriptions, etc.

How is it that my driver’s license, my passport, my marriage license, my Social Security card, my credential, my EVERYTHING is Joyce DENSMORE-Thomas and MEDICARE gets to drop an essential part of ME??????

NO!!!!!!! I get to choose my name!!! Not the government. So do I go to battle with Medicare? Do I risk a big bureaucratic f-up to make them change it? AAAAARRRGGGHHHH.

PS I just got off the phone for the SECOND time today with a doctor’s office who can’t find me in the system because “Joyce E Thomas” doesn’t exist in the system that I’ve been in for 30 years. They have a Joyce Densmore-Thomas, but no Joyce E Thomas. And now I can’t even pick up a message from my doctor in my personal electronic health file because there is no Joyce Densmore-Thomas or Joyce E Thomas with access.

I repeat…AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!

PPS I’ve had a thing about names forever. When I was teaching in Chico, my mentor/friend had a student named Anthony whom she called Tony. I told her that wasn’t his name. He didn’t go by Tony. She said…I like “Tony” so he’s Tony here. Wrong. Over the years, I made a concerted effort to correctly pronounce the names of my students. It wasn’t always easy as my mouth didn’t always want to make the sounds that were in some names, but I tried because it was important to me and to them that I honor their personal, family, linguistic and cultural identity.

And lastly, Ruby Freeman who just won a big case against Rudy Guiliani (and filed another against him because he continues to lie about her), said that the worst part of this whole experience that she’s been put through for 3 years is that she had to go into hiding and use a different name. She said simply, “I miss my name”.

Me, too.

I just celebrated a BIG one. And once you hit a certain age, they ALL seem BIG!

As I usually do, today I started my morning with coffee, a Dug snuggle, a couple biscotti and because it’s Saturday in the fall, ESPN Game Day. I also had my laptop out and read and shared the daily FB post from Heather Cox Richardson.

As I already had FB up, I scrolled a bit to see what else was there. A friend from my hometown, Vicki had a post about her search for a better “quality of life”. She wrote that she had reached out to a friend and at the end of their conversation she realized that she had much to be grateful for in her life; she wasn’t suffering any deep, great traumas like others and she posted her story on FB. A friend of hers commented on her post – “I have a friend who always seems happy. Whenever I ask how she’s doing she almost always tells me what she is grateful for…”

And that got me to thinking about those somewhat awkward moments when people, strangers and acquaintances, ask me how I’m doing (e.g. the cashier at Trader Joe”s, the administrator who checks me in at the doctor’s office, the person I regularly pass when I’m out for a walk, etc.). I never quite feel satisfied by my response. It usually goes something like this – Them: “How are you today?” Me: “Great. How about you?” Them: “Fine, thank you. Have a great day!” Me: “Thanks. You, too!” And off we go to the next…

Vicki’s friend’s response on FB got me to thinking…what if the conversations went something like this…

Them: How are you today?

Me: I’m great. We had Thai food for family dinner last night. How are you?

Or…I’m great – Dug, the Dog didn’t wake me up last night. And you – Did you get a good sleep?

Or…I’m well – the fall colors give me such joy. Do you have a favorite fall tree?

Or…I’m satisfied – I updated my pharmacy plan and got a huge savings – with thanks to Beth, our genius Medicare advisor! Do you have any good news?

Or…I’m excited – Glen found a music event in Grass Valley and a great hotel for a quick getaway! Have you had something to look forward to recently?

Or…I’m lucky – I got to spend my birthday eve and day in The City with friends. Do you have a favorite place to celebrate?

Or…I’m excited – I get to go to Boise tomorrow to visit a friend (and winter) and Blair and Glen will take good care of Dug. Where do you like to go in winter?

It seems like it could be a simple way to be more authentically engaged with people, to increase the endorphins released by expressing gratitude, and to remind myself of ALL the small things that make up this BIG adventure called life!

Thank you Vicki and Stephanie! I appreciate how your exchange sparked my thinking and the opportunity to focus on gratitude on this issue beautiful fall morning!

I love language. I love new (to me) words. Recently, Heather Cox Richardson (HCR) used a word, zeitgeist and indicated that it explained the phenomenon of when one notices something and then suddenly they find it everywhere. I can’t even remember what she was talking about at the time, but it made me think of my last post The Last Last. More on that in a minute.

As I sat down to write this post, I thought I should check the spelling of zeitgeist. I spelled it correctly, but when I read the definition, it didn’t really conform to how I was thinking about the word. So I dug a little deeper and googled my definition/understanding of the word and it turns out there’s a whole different term for that phenomenon. That is called the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon. And if you need a definition of that…here you go…“I just heard of the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon and now I see it everywhere”. Hahaha….

I remember when I was first pregnant, it seemed that everywhere I went there were pregnant women. Or I got a blue car and then I saw SO many blue cars on the road. You have your own examples.

Now back to HCR and zeitgeist. I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember the context of her use of the word. I know it had to do with her sense of the common topics being discussed everywhere she goes. And she’s been all over the country with her book talks. I remember she noticed a common topic everywhere…but I can’t remember what it was and it’s driving me crazy. I do remember she also used the phrase…what’s “out there”…what’s the commonality “out there”…But I also know that it had to do with events and conversations happening in our country which leans into the definition of zeitgeist – the spirit of time, the general trend of thought, feeling, or tastes of a particular time. (Dictionary .com) AND I remember she had a positive sense about this zeitgeist she is currently experiencing as she traverses the country, reads newspapers, blogs, etc. All in all…that’s some positive news to me.

So in my case the Baader-Meinhoff Phenomenon is a better match for my Last Last thinking. I know. You probably thought I’d never get to the point of this post, huh!?

Well, as I wrote that post, I started seeing other writings about the last…One in particular was just a question posted on Threads and I can’t even find the original post. But some responses got me to reflecting on the concept of last a bit more.

I’ll just share a few with you without comment (if I’m able to restrain myself).

I’m going to start with the one that left me a bit blue. It may be true, but it’s not how I like to think about life. hish_mat: Most things are temporary.

Phew. Got that one out of the way.

Now for some other responses to the Threads question about lasts…and I think that there is some zeitgeist in many of the responses. I’ll be curious to hear your thinking.

iamshahmirr: Accepting the concept of ‘last times’ is undeniably painful, but it’s a testament to the beautiful moments we’ve cherished. Embrace each moment with gratitude, for these instances shape our lives, leaving an indelible mark of love and cherished memories.

beloveceo: Remember to cherish the present, express love and gratitude to those you care about and create meaningful memories because, in the grand story of our lives, every moment matters.

briaenyce: I think of the last as memories I get to keep forever.

cjcongdon: The veil of forgetting is a gift. If you knew this was the last time, you’d do things differently, but that is not what you would naturally do. It’s not the last time that counts, it’s the best time. Just do things naturally, with a loving spirit.

bethg004: I try to look at it as honoring the moment, to not be sad it’s over; to keep the moment sacred.

hannah2me28: you enjoy it. you enjoy the first time, and you enjoy the second time, and the 3rd and the 4th. and then you stop thinking about how special that kiss, that hug, that tuck into bed is, and suddenly it’s the 47th time and you’re thinking about how this one thing has happened so many times you’ve lost count. and you enjoy it. you enjoy the fact that you’ve gotten to do something you love so many times you can’t keep track. and perhaps you preemptively grieve the fact there will be a last time

While this is my/our 201st blog post (how can that be???)…it won’t be the last.

Oh..how could I not include some photos???? Here are a few from the last month or two…

Okay – here’s a topic that might spark some conversations.

Remember when our kids were little and we marked all of their “firsts”? First word. First step. First tooth. First successful potty trip. First prom. First driving experience. First college drop off (because sometimes there is more than one)? So many firsts to celebrate.

What about the “first last”?

When was the last time my baby boy crawled up in my lap for a nap? When was the last time my baby girl reached for my hand to cross the street? When did my mom last say my name knowing it was me? When was the last time my dad washed my windshield before I drove home? I wish I knew those lasts.

I’ve been listening to a GREAT podcast by Julia Luis Dreyfus called “Wiser Than Me”. (Here you go and you’re welcome.)

Wiser Than Me with Julia Louis-Dreyfus Lemonada

Applehttps://podcasts.apple.com › podcast › wiser-than-me-…

I think it was her interview of Ruth Reichel where they talked about aging and how we start to have new thoughts as we get older. For example, Ruth is thinking…when her cats die, will she be too old to get more? Will she live long enough to care for them? Ouch. There’s a certain finite aspect of that thought.

And yet, I’ve had the same thought. Dug, – the love of my life – it’s okay, my kids and husband know – is nine. I’ll likely outlive him and I’ll mourn him desperately, but will he have to be my last pup? Will I be too old to have another? What’s life without a pup?

And a bit on the shallower side of this thinking…I love my car. It’s a chambray blue convertible bug. It’s also nine years old (with low miles because after all…I am the little old lady from – well NOT Pasadena, but LA?). I’ve told Glen that I’ll never get rid of it. It doesn’t have any of the bells or whistles of newer cars. I mean, I could really use those back up cameras, but it let’s me put the top down so my gray hair can blow in the wind while I sing my favorite pop songs…think Pink, Fleetwood Mac, The Spice Girls – yes, it’s true, – Joss Stone (look her up), The Motels, Adele, Ricky Martin, Christina Aguilera, Shania Twain, Bruce Springsteen, …you get my vibe. But will it be my…last car?

Are these the kind of new thoughts that I’ll have to start weighing as I get older? Is this my last…?

And don’t get Glen started on famous Densmore “lasts”. My grandmother had about twenty “last” Thanksgiving dinners. I just made a comment to Glen that this Thanksgiving might be the “last” time to get the family together in LA. He just laughed. And rolled his eyes.

But you know what I didn’t see coming as a last? It was way to soon…Our last holiday with my sister who hosted EVERY holiday throughout our children’s childhood. There was no opportunity to say good bye to that important tradition in our lives. It just ended. Abruptly. Without warning. (I still miss her every day, but especially at the holidays.)

Yikes. That took a turn. But truthfully…how often do we know that something is our “last” something?

Glen and I are currently in New York City. Oh my, how I love this place. As mentioned in previous posts, we spent three months in Brooklyn at the beginning of my/our retirement. (It was Glen’s semi-retirement.) We really loved getting to know New York – especially Brooklyn and Manhattan.

When we arrived the other night and walked out of the airport…ahhhh…the smells – dank, grungy, fumey (is that a word?), lived-in smells. And that’s before we hit the neighborhood on TRASH day. Wait…I think EVERY day is trash day in NYC! And the sounds – horns blaring, people shouting at drivers, taxi drivers hollering for rides, security guys telling people to “move on”, the guy who gave Glen side eye and when he saw me looking askance at him told me to “mind your own damn business”, sirens…constant sirens. Ahhh. New York.

Today is our last day here. Argh. I said it…last. In our short trip we’ve packed a lot of experiences and tried to balance it with a pace that is doable for these older (aching) bodies. I don’t have a sense that this is our last trip to NYC, but it’s a BIG place so could this be our last stop at some favorite places? We went to the Brooklyn Museum to see the Spike Lee exhibit. We went a couple times when we were here a few years ago. Will we be back there on another trip? Was that our last Brooklyn Museum visit?

This morning I’m over in our old BedStuy “hood” to visit my favorite bakery and coffee shop on Halsey. Did I just have my last Saraghina croissant? I hope not. Because…it’s only a last time if you let it be a last time…

Unless you just don’t know. Ugh.

As a child, there were places that my family vacationed where we returned again and again. And by vacation...I mean camped in a tent. In the rain. In the snow. In the heat. I loved it.

Tuolumne Meadows was a favorite spot for years. In the last several years I’ve been there for a few reasons – starting with picking up Mike, our friend, the PCT backpacker. (He didn’t know that he was doing me a favor giving me an excuse to make a run up the mountain.) Then I dragged a few hardy friends up to stay in the rustic tent cabins for a night. They humored me on that one. Blair went with me for a quick day trip to celebrate my dad (code for scattering some ashes). The two of us hiked to the top of Lembert Dome, wandered through the campground, had a burger and cone in the tent café, and then made the long drive home…all in a day. It was quite the emotional day.

Dad was a John Muir Trail backpacker far longer than his family thought was safe, but it was his happy place. It was his home so we didn’t argue. We just held our breath until he returned home – dusty and tired, but happy. Many years ago, he likely had a heart attack on the trail when he was with his buddy John. There was definitely some sort of health incident on that hike, but John managed to escort him safely home. And of course, he was fine when he got home so why go to the doctor? Many years after that incident when he was being tested for some illness, the doctor asked him when he had his heart attack. Yep. Dad was a strong and stubborn bugger.

So like my dad, Tuolumne remains one of my homes. That place where I just go….ahhhhhh…..

Glen and I just spent a month in Whitefish, Montana at a house on the lake. That’s an immediate aahhhhhh for me. I’ve come to realize that water…any sort of water creates a home in my soul. But…is Whitefish a home for me? As Glen says, it’s complicated. As with all homes, there are good memories and some not-so-good memories. We’ve been coming to Whitefish for decades. Glen came with a group of buddies for golf the first time, then we started coming with the kids for winter skiing and summer lake fun. Here’s a bit of the history that makes our Whitefish story…

Many years ago, we loved Whitefish and Montana so much that we bought property there. Not just some house or condo in town, but 90+ acres outside of town. It was in a field with a ridge in the middle, a creek on the edge, a view of the mountains, and it was on “Farm to Market Road”. What could be more “country”? We also had a couple 4-plex apartments and a lot in town with plans to build a “live-work” building. Part-time living in Montana was in our future. Then…Glen got sick and 2008 happened. During that rough patch, I spent my nights trying to get to sleep by dreaming of the house we were going to build on the 90 acres. In my mind, I designed the house inside and out until eventually, amid the worry, I was able to fall asleep. So our story took a twist that we didn’t see coming and instead of a dream, Whitefish became a challenge to overcome though not quite a nightmare, for me anyway.

Glen’s a genius and he maneuvered us through the challenges of that time (his physical and our financial), but it changed our relationship with Whitefish. Was it still our happy place? Did it still feel like home? Could we create a new relationship with it? We weren’t sure. We had to test it. So after many years away, one summer we came back to Whitefish for a month. It felt pretty good. And we tried it again. And we came in winter and…pretty soon though we knew we’d never live in Whitefish and we definitely weren’t going to be property owners, but we could be respectful visitors with history and we started creating a new Whitefish story for us.

Then I retired and we started our new life of travel. Let me define our version of travel. We like to go someplace and stay for at least a month, preferably a couple months. So a few years ago we went to Brooklyn for three months. Loved it. Loved the long-term, get-to-know- the place and people, actually live in the place kind of travel.

Last year we were in Europe for a four month trip. About half way through, we knew that Glen’s health wasn’t right so we were going to have to cut our trip short. I vividly remember sitting on the couch in our apartment in Nice as we made plans to come home and we were (okay…I was) feeling sorry for ourselves. (I know. Ridiculous to feel sorry for oneself while sitting in Nice.) I think it was me who said…Hey we can go to Whitefish next year. And we can get a house on the lake. And I started researching Airbnb until I found the perfect house and I rented it from the couch in Nice for the following summer. For us, that was a very spontaneous act. We usually ponder these travels for a long time before we actually rent a residence (without the ability to cancel-yikes).

So, we came home from Europe and Glen began his adjustment to his new life and we had almost a year to look forward to Whitefish. We did sneak in a month in Hawaii last spring.

So back to the beginning…with a house on the lake – ahhhhhhh – summer solstice providing L O N G days, and views of sunset over the lake every night, we tested our relationship with Whitefish. Was it still home? Glen’s new physical reality meant that he had to do some deep thinking about his relationship with Whitefish. While he could be there, he couldn’t experience the mountains the way he used to…no hiking for him. And what’s Whitefish without Glacier?

So while it immediately felt like my home, would it feel like our home? I’m not sure that’s been answered for Glen. Seems like every question leads to another question rather than an answer…

What is home?

Not to be morose or anything…but we are all inhabiting this place for a finite amount of time. Right? And how we approach our “time” can make a difference in how we view our “time”. Vague, I know. Here’s what I’ve been thinking…bear with me.

It started with a newsletter that I receive from Nancy Kho of the “Thank You Project”. I read and subsequently selected her book for Book Club several years ago. Her premise was that if we write notes or letters to thank people/places/things in our lives that have impacted our life (in good ways and bad), it will increase our satisfaction in life. I read her book during our COVID shut down and had plenty of time on my hands so I tried out her theory and wrote notes of appreciation to a long list of people from my past and present. It was very satisfying for me and I hope for the recipients – at least for those people and places that could actually read them! I continue to try to practice this strategy – even if sometimes I’m just writing the note “in my head”.

In a recent newsletter from Nancy (who by the way, lives in Oakland), she shared a conversation she had with her niece who shared the “TR” concept or “Time Remaining”. Her niece had learned from a wise, “mature” Scottish woman that since “we don’t know how much time we have” (TR), she and her friends think about and talk about everything they can do with their TR. Nancy has taken “TR” as code for reconsidering her values, goals and aspirations and then changing some things in her life.

Hmmm…

Then I read a long tweet from “JD” on Memorial Day. He told the story of his “inseparable” friends sitting on a beach drinking whiskey before they each were deployed and making a pact that should any one of them die in their upcoming deployments, the others would return to this spot on the beach and toss his dog tags into the ocean. They went further and agreed that every year they’d return at sunrise and pour a shot of whiskey into the rolling waves. JD went on to share that he never imagined that he’d be the only survivor returning to the beach every year. He reflected on trying to understand why he’s been left to live his life and he wondered if he’s living a life worthy of his friends. He honors his friends by remembering that there are amazing people all around who demonstrate the “purest love” for their neighbors, who do the “right thing”, and who have an “intense capacity for kindness”. He closed his tweet by saying that he has no idea when his “number will be called” (none of us-or at least few of us do), but he will pursue a life filled with purpose and focused on the things that really matter – taking care of each other.

Sounds like he’s making the most of his TR to honor his friends.

I recently read a piece in the NYT (The Daily) that got me to thinking…The author remembered a voicemail from the neighborhood cobbler telling him that his shoes were ready to pick up. He said that the cobbler was a “grumpy guy” so the message was short and terse. But he noticed that he ended his message not with “bye” or “have a good day”. He signed off with “Enjoy your time.” He thought about that message and it made him think about the finality of “have a good day”. Should we only enjoy that day? Are there other time periods we should be striving to enjoy?

As Nancy learned through her niece, since we don’t know our “TR”, shouldn’t we be enjoying our “time”? All of our time? “Enjoy your time” seems like an excellent alternative. I’m going to try to remember that sign off.

And yesterday, I participated remotely in the Chico State University Foundation Board meeting. We closed our session with an activity called “Values Auction”. It wasn’t unlike other values clarification processes I’ve participated in (or led), but as I’ve been thinking about my TR, it caused me to think of it a bit differently. We were asked to toss out words that described why we are active members on this Board. There were many thrown onto the chart – “relationships” being a common value, but others such as compassion, education, opportunity, also rose to the top. The word I threw out was “service”. I hadn’t really thought of that word (value) as being so important to me, but as I have been reflecting on the meaning of my TR, it really felt right. “Service” describes how I want to spend my “time remaining”.

So it seems appropriate that I end with my “thank you letter to Chico State”:

It’s with a full heart – full of gratitude and joy – that I want to publicly thank Chico State for shaping me as a young adult, for providing me with opportunities to grow, for instilling a sense of purpose, for educating me academically, but also in how to work in a community with compassion and care. For teaching me how to have a good time and still get my work done. For the importance of relationships at the front of EVERY task and for helping me to stop and enjoy the beauty around me. (I mean…have you ever seen that campus? Absolutely stunning.)

Thank you to Nancy, JD, The Daily, and Chico State for helping me to reflect on my TR.

Enjoy your time!

Generally, I think retirement is different for women and men though I should probably just speak for myself. As a first grade teacher, I always said that when I couldn’t sit “criss cross applesauce” anymore, it was time to go. Well…I could still make it down (getting up was not pretty), but there were other signs. So when the opportunity came (I might have nudged it a bit…), I wholeheartedly said YES, PLEASE! Before I move on to the real purpose of this post, please know that I LOVED my career and I did not take leaving it lightly, but I also knew that the pace was taxing, my patience was not as good as the kids deserved, and my expectations for myself were harder to meet as time went by…so in 2019, I retired thankfully before COVID hit. And here it is almost 4 years later and I can confirm that retirement is EVERYTHING it’s cracked up to be!

Jump forward 3 1/2 years and it was Glen’s turn to contemplate “retirement” – whatever that meant to him. His situation was completely different from mine and his process for determining his path was different from mine and eventually…he came to the same, or maybe a similar place as I did…As he likes to say, “Six Saturdays and a Sunday” didn’t sound all bad!

Last week TYS, the CPA firm Glen and his colleague, Chris founded, held a retirement event for Glen in a suite at an A’s game. If you know Glen, you know that he’s been an A’s fan his entire life – through the good, the great, and the ugly so this seemed like the perfect way to celebrate his incredible career. The entire firm was in town so it gave them all the opportunity to reminisce with Glen and enjoy the beautiful Coliseum atmosphere (that’s another sad post). Glen also invited a few clients and of course, Niels, Blair and I were there. It was a beautiful day for baseball (the A’s lost), and I think everyone had a great time.

In the days before the game, I thought about Glen’s career and considered preparing a few “words” to share. As I reflected, I think what really stood out was the profound impact he has had on the careers of so many others – be they clients (who, more often than not, became his friends), and everyone else who passed through the firm from intern to partner. Understanding his impact really hit home for me when on that infamous Friday in March 2020, Glen, Niels, and Blair all walked through the front door and called “dibs” on their new office space in the house that I thought was going to be my castle during retirement! What I learned during those months (years) is that all three of them are incredibly talented, caring, and skilled. I enjoyed hearing and seeing them in their roles and was just completely wowed by their professionalism. I witnessed the positive impact Glen has had on his “kids” as they make their way in their own careers. But what I learned and began to appreciate about Glen is that he is not only an accountant – for sure a gifted mathematician – he’s also a planner, financial advisor, teacher, counselor, therapist, consultant, confidant, guide, sage, mediator, futurist, and oh yeah…a CPA.

What I really came here to do is share my memory of Glen’s career. I most assuredly got some details and dates wrong, but the following is the gist of his accomplishments as I remember them – and they are many. Please indulge me…Glen has always loved baseball and I think that we can liken his career to a baseball game.

We’ll start with: Spring Training aka The Years at Chico State

Glen likes to tell anyone who will listen that “all the good stuff in his life began at Chico”. He took a crooked path to get there – I think he was a “freshman” for something like 7 years before he made it Chico, but when he got there, he knew what he wanted to do…and it wasn’t attend class and study. Not being the most focused student, he did learn how to stay awake for long hours which was good training for becoming an accountant and getting through “busy season”. However, he didn’t get that training in the library, I’ll let him tell those stories, but he did learn how to get up after an “all nighter” and get to his earliest class at 1:00 pm. See…great training for the run-up to all the April 15ths of his career! He actually did get a great education, made lifelong friends, and has stayed connected to the University through the years.

His First Hit – A Single at Jones and Marzluft, later JHS

Glen began his career in Danville with the CPA firm, Jones and Marzluft. Rumor has it that as he was being considered for a position, an employee who was a Chico State grad and knew Glen from their shared accounting classes, recommended that they NOT hire Glen…hahaha. Good thing someone on that hiring team saw his potential!

It was during this time that I met Glen in Chico at The Bear 2 years post-graduation…another “Chico good thing” in my opinion. There were stories about his job – learning to stay focused when working the phones in the ” bullpen”, wild drunken work parties, trips to clients in Kansas and Denver, and a firm basketball team. The office team members were excited for the season when they saw this new 6’6” guy join the team. How could they lose with him under the basket? Glen will have to tell you his version of that story. It has to do with jumping skills.

It was here where he developed lifelong relationships with colleagues and clients. He learned his craft with the support of his mentors, including partners, managers, and peers. He learned how to close a deal and how to provide remarkable service, expertise, knowledge, and creative problem-solving. After all, he is the master problem solver.

After a brief stint opening a JM office in Orange County and then working for a client outside of public accounting, (plus a wedding and a baby), he returned to Jones and Marzluft in Danville and became a partner and then managing partner, but there was always his desire to have something more, something different – to create a different kind of firm.

Glen and Chris dared to dream and began building the concept of a something new. Tobin joined them in their shared ideals and…

A Double – Thomas York Was Born!

Glen and Chris had the fire to create something different – something that “could be”. They were a great team, largely because they were so different. They were eyes wide-open and their unique approaches and creative thinking provided balance, allowing them to create the “what could be”. They were wise enough to know that they needed support so they brought in important players to help them build out their vision – Jim Kelly, Boomer, Jim Gebhardt, and many more “influencers” (before “influencers” were a thing!) provided them guidance, helped them formulate their model, and gave them the “juice” that they needed to build Thomas York.

I think this is the period where Glen really hit his stride. He was having a blast being creative and I think he really “hit his groove” in those early days. I believe it was during this time that he really developed his unique communication style, peppering his conversations with riddles, “isms”, mottos, one-liners – call them what you may – they helped him get his point across! Mind you, sometimes those one-liners made us all roll our eyes, but they were definitely part of what makes Glen successful in communicating his ideas. I should ask his colleagues to share their favorites with us!

BTW…Shout out to our son, Niels. It was during this time that he began developing his accounting chops. He worked for Thomas York before he enrolled at Chico State. (Yes, his Chico grad parents couldn’t have been prouder!) TY provided him great background experience which gave him a leg up when he entered as an accounting major.

As Thomas York was just rolling, Glen had a life-changing event and he hit an unlikely…

Triple  – Also Known as His “Greatest Accomplishment”

Eight months after Thomas York got started, Glen was diagnosed with cancer and thus began the greatest fight of his life which he also calls his greatest and truest gift. During his long, challenging treatment and an even longer recovery, he was supported by Chris, the Thomas York staff, and all of his clients. They allowed him the time and space he needed to regain his health. Knowing that the firm was waiting for him to return was a major contributor to Glen’s ability to fight and eventually thrive. It didn’t take long after he was back in the office to realize that he was still dreaming about what could be and he rekindled a relationship with Tim whom he’d met earlier in the TY history and it was a…

Home Run – TYS – An Even Better Iteration of the Dream

Tim joined Chris and Glen and at the beginning, Glen’s trips to Rochester were frequent! What was really wonderful was that he was able to make the trips – a feat that was not guaranteed just a short time earlier. What’s even better? At TYS, Blair also found her talents and skills. It’s true that both Blair and Niels have learned so much from their dad. They have a set of values and skills that guide them in their careers: work ethic, problem-solving, communication, project managing and myriad other necessary accounting/business skills (including soft skills) that I can’t even label! Hey – now that I think about it…I realize that I am the only Thomas who hasn’t worked for the firm…hmmm…Should I have a turn?

As Glen was preparing for his “change of life” (let’s not call it retirement), he began the slow process of handing over the reigns to the next generation. We started traveling which made it easier for him to step aside, step down and be proud of what he and Chris created.

Robert Reich recently wrote about his retirement. He noted that “to retire” historically has meant to go into seclusion. I think we need a new term for what happens after you leave your profession, your calling, your career. Reich quotes Oliver Wendell Holmes who said, people “do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.”

So as Glen rounds the diamond of his career, I’m reminded of a favorite Glenism…He always called work “play” because as he says…if you love what you do, it’s not work.

What will be Glen’s next game?

Noodling around on this lazy Sunday morning and I came across something I’d recorded on my phone. Why would I be recording on my phone, you ask? Okay, maybe you didn’t, but here’s why.

When I drive to LA, I often listen to podcasts or books to pass the time. I mean, let’s face it..in the 40+ years I’ve been up and down I-5 gazillions of times with most of the drive a snoozer…and as soon as I say that…I get images of the beauty of California even in its less desirable locations…but okay…that’s another post.

Anyway, when I’m driving and listening, I often hear a nugget or idea that I don’t want to forget and the downside of listening to something versus reading (while driving 🤪) is that you can’t easily highlight, take notes, add a post it, etc. Especially while driving!

So how do I solve that problem? I hit “record” on my phone and take a verbal note. And then I promptly forget that it’s there until one day when I’m randomly scrolling around or I hear something else weeks or months later that I want to record and see these notes listed as “I-5 S” which is how my phone labels my recorded notes taken while driving down I-5. Since the label is cryptic, I have no idea what this note is about and most of the time I just move on past and record a new note…to also forget.

But…When life and I slow down and I decide to stop and take a listen…my memory is jogged and sometimes…I actually find an interesting nugget! And I have a bunch of these “I-5” notes because it’s a frequent, long, boring drive!

I digress. So today, I was sitting on the beach listening to a book that Glen has asked me to read. There was a thought I wanted to remember so I opened my phone to record a note. Per usual, I got distracted by all those I-5 notes, started listening to them and promptly forgot the thought I had wanted to record from the book. Maybe I’ll remember later?

So what did I find on my phone today? A few nuggets about a switch in how to think about problems. First, I’ll admit that I’m not a fan problems. I mean, do people really like problems? I think that some do. Glen, for example, loves a good problem and is a master of breaking it down into chunks and solving it in a systematic, thoughtful, logical way. Whereas I’m all emotion and reaction and WAAAAHHH!!! (Hey Allison – I know you’re relating to this!)

The nugget in this podcast or book I was listening to was about switching to thinking of a problem as a puzzle. I mean, who doesn’t love to play with a puzzle? And the author (sorry-i can’t credit the author because I didn’t record it in my notes) offered a symbolic way of thinking about problem solving.

❓➡️❗️

Simple, right? State the problem, move forward to the solution and voila!! Problem solved. Whoever came up with that symbolism is whacko! Right? I mean that’s WAY simplistic. Are there some solutions that obvious and easy? Sure. Like should I have a second cup of coffee? Duh. Should I wear these black sandals or those? Not as easy 🤪 What should I have for dinner? This one can be a challenge for me, but not for Glen these days. (That’s another post.) But are all or even most problems that easy? No. At least not for me.

Here’s my symbol:

❓➡️⬆️⏪️↗️➡️⬇️⏯️↔️↕️➡️🌀🆒🔄‼️⁉️

That last !? is self-doubt, but that’s another post! And I’m going to try this “puzzle” approach to problem solving…stay tuned…

Kids are so real…and I could take a lesson.

I had the privilege and joy of working in a bilingual/dual immersion Kindergarten classroom at Cambridge this morning. Be still my heart. Such joy!

I was just an extra set of hands and eyes in the classroom as the teacher went about her regular daily routine…on “pijama” (aka “piyama”) day and the day before spring break which tells you that there was absolutely nothing routine about the day! I fell right into “teacher mode” as soon as I stepped into the room and found myself helping with putting things away, getting students to the rug, and answering myriad questions.

About mid morning, after Spanish instruction, the kids were sent to their seats to get out their workbooks and pull out “page 296”. That was a challenge unto itself! After helping them get their booklets prepared, I just meandered among the tables seeing where a smidge of assistance might be needed. These 5-6 year olds are actually READING!!! (Their teacher is phenomenal.)

I immediately was drawn to a boy in green Hulk “pijamas” who not only wasn’t participating in the reading activity, he hadn’t even pulled out the page. I pulled up a chair next to him (a very small kindergarten-sized chair), as I observed his avoidance strategies – aka – fiddling around. He was poking his neighbor, picking at his pencil, etc. He clearly was struggling to figure out the reading process, but boy oh boy, he has figured out how to avoid it! But never fear, Ms. D-T to the rescue! Hahaha…if only…

As we got started working on the “sílabas”, he immediately started poking at my hand, noticing my dry skin and he asked “¿Qué pasó?. With my very best “you’re so sweet to ask, but this is not our task” face, I glanced at him and ignored his pokes and his question. This was not my first rodeo and I had a whole bag of tricks I could use to entice him to look at the book instead of my dry winter hands. Back to the book…

When his pokes and question failed to distract ME from our task, he started poking my arm and plugging his nose as he looked at me. I had to curtail my smile when he asked me why I smelled like coffee which reminded me of all the years that kids told me I smelled like coffee – some said they liked the smell, others not so much.

Well here’s the real real…this little one clearly did not like the smell of coffee and he told me that I needed to “cepillarse los dientes”. (Don’t judge my Spanish if I got it wrong!)

Oh my gosh. I can’t wait to go back to Kindergarten!!!