ADULTING – The practice of behaving in a way characteristic of a responsible adult, especially the accomplishment of mundane but necessary tasks. -Oxford Dictionary. 

You may ask, “What are some common behaviors of adulting”?  

1. Having a budget                                  

2.  Buying a house

3.  Scheduling regular doctor and dental visits

4.  Doing your own laundry

5.  Watching the nightly news

6.  Etc., etc., etc.

For me, 2020 has seen a wane of most things responsible. Practicing mature decisions and behaviors has taken a back seat to poor choices. A small consolation to all this? I am not alone. 

Perched on the edge of too much. Feelings of minimal control, order, peace, time. The season of disappointment. The year of dismay. The year of 2020 has been nothing ordinary for so many. 

Hours, days and months of the same endless blur. What day is it, Blursday? Are the kids home today? Am I safe? What’s for dinner? Where’s the mask? Have I prayed enough? I can’t. I won’t. I don’t believe it. UGH! It’s endless!  

As a result of all this fertile frenzy, I weakly continue to challenge myself. Who is doing the adulting here? 

First and foremost; the body. Now that I have retired and have time, time, and more to plan, prepare and eat responsibly, I forego. Foods of ill-repute have become my friends. Pretty much anything chocolate, salty or of the carb family. Yes, I know, chocolate is plant based as with most carbs, thus, may provide nutritional value. But in excess? 

As a result, heartburn, bloating and tight pants have been constant reminders of these inadequate choices. Alka-Seltzer, a spoon or two of soda in water and elastic have become near-daily supplements. Thank you CVS, Walgreens and Publix for BOGO temptations. I support and appreciate you. It’s time, however, to make the turn for “Just Say No”.

Second in challenge: exercise. As for regular exercise, I purposely forget. Having the luxury of excess time, sunshine of the sunny south and good health, I choose to roll over and play dead. Lazy has become me. So like a recent commercial, I wish I had a pet to attach my Fitbit to for pretend exercise. Again, I sense that I am not alone.

Ten pounds later, I am not livelier or happy. These feelings of chub and blah have got to go. Lame, lame and blame need another body to harbor. BAM! Emeril Lagasse, Chef Boyardee, Julia Child: It’s time to leave the body! Poke a fork in me; I’m done!

Third in question: common sense. Sound judgement in practical matters. In short, adulting. Easy enough to define and practice, however, what have I done with this normalcy? Binge watching anything. Pleasure reading nonfiction, historical lust. The likes of mindless Solitaire and Scrabble online. Awake until wee hours of the morning often resulting in a wasted half day of sunshine and light. Jeez, need I say more?

Ta-tah to technology marathons and my frenzied lifestyle of 2020. I cannot thrive and grow. Come into my life, 2021! I’m ready for a new and improved adulting! Once again, I will safely bet; I am not alone.

Haphazardly, we are about to finish a marathon of 2020 unbelievable. The world and its final sunset to accept those plateaus, slumps and failure-to-thrive episodes. In one form or another, we’ve battled the Goliath of fear, disappointment and loss. Let it go my friends. Buh-bye negative. Hello gorgeous! 

Resurrect that which is good for 2021. Practice deep breathing and once again, win over your heart. Find the good and grow. The sun will always shine once the clouds give way. A rainbow often follows a storm. I wish you the best in your 2021 journey to bigger and better. 

Thanks for reading! 

Ahh, hunting varmits in Michigan. Mid September to mid-March, opportunities aplenty. Tall grasses, brushy areas and open fields offer up the perfect nesting and hiding habitats for our furry friends. One adventurous tale from former student Jack proved his love not only for the joy of hunting, but that of nabbing the perfect gift for Grandpa.

Early December, 1998 or so. Jack, an 11th grade student on my caseload had returned from the vocational center a few minutes before the start of his third hour class. With fast-food breakfast in hand, he entered my office for a chatn’snack. Always up for light conversation, I welcomed his happy soul. Today was a chilly start to the week with light snow and falling temps. Holiday tunes were softly playing. 

“Morning, Mrs. S. Care if I hang before third hour starts? Gotta story bout huntin with Popcorn, yaknow, my beagle. Yur not gonna believe it.” Peeling away the wrappings, he chunked a bite of hash brown slivered between his egg Mcsandwich. 

“Well, let’s just share n’care a bit, shall we?” I joined him at the large table with my coffee and a few students finishing up assignments.”By the way Jack, you’ve got about 8 minutes to brag. No one here will be late to class, got it? Summarize and carry on my friend.”                                                                     

Interest was high as non-academic boy talk took to the stage. Cue Jack. “It all started Friday night when me and Popcorn drove up to Grandpa’s farm in Chesaning. I couldn’t hunt, cuz it was too dark, so Gramps and I went for pizza at Pintown, you know, the bowling alley…” Jack began to wander as he continued to chomp. 

“And?” I jokingly added. 

Jack nodded, inhaling a last bite. “So me and Popcorn and my 12 guage, ya know, my semi-auto, we left Saturday mornin for the woods. We was in a clearing tryin to flush out some rabbits from the bushes. Ya know, for stew, snowshoe stew,” he chuckled. “Well, nothin’s punchin out. Ya know. I was gettin a little down about that. Ya know. So I just sat with Popcorn and took a break.”

Time was ticking and Jack had a story to embellish. “So what did you do then, Jack?” I asked. 

He had piqued our interest. “Well I didn’t want to just walk all day for nothin, so I decided to find Grandpa a nice little Christmas tree. And there it was, like magic or somethin! Bout a six footer, ya know.  A little scraggly but a trim would make it right.”

Continuing forward, “So, instead of rabbits, I was gonna git a tree. No saw, I’ll  just use my shotgun, ya know?  Yup, plaster that stump until that tree drops! Great idea, ya?”

Always one to ramble, Jack had his audience captured. Boy talk. Woods. Gun. 

“Cool! How many shells did it take Jack? Ya know, did you pound it?” fellow huntsman Jerry asked. 

I could only reply with, “Oh boy” and rolling eyes. “Wind this convo up, Jack. Time is short, ya know?”

Anxiously, young Jack yammered on, “I obliterated it man! Bout 12 shots and I felled that tree! Pop, pop, pop! An Popcorn, he took off for a good chase. Rabbits were no where.” 

Jack proceeded his edgy adventure of hauling the tree to his nearby truck. Back to the search and nab of Popcorn and rabbits. A pretty good day.

As the afternoon began to wane into darkness, however, Popcorn or snowshoes had not appeared. Yelling for the beag proved worthless. Experience reminded Jack to leave a scent and likely his prized pup would return. Shedding his coat, Jack laid it in the new-fallen snow. 

Returning to his truck, the prized pine was gone. A quick search showed two sets of boot tracks and the swish of the tree’s boughs. “Who’d ever take this tree?” he thought. A quick chill ran through Jack as he jumped in the truck to follow the trail. 

It wasn’t long before the suspicious traces ended. Fresh tire tracks appeared to capture the tree and nabbers. 

Jack was disappointed to say the least. “Yup, I scored zero for the weekend. Popcorn scored a zero, an Grandpa scored a zero. The rabbits, the robbers, an my shotgun won. I jus lost that trail fast. A big fat ZERO!”

“That’s it, Jack? That’s your story?” I inquired. “Beginning, middle and end? No happily-ever-after?”

Jack rose from the table. “Yup, jus like that. Good thing though, Gramps and I went back to Pintown for another pizza. Sharin my bad luck, I noticed a red Dodge Ram in the parkin lot with a tree on back! Cha-Ching!  Checkin the stump, it was filled with BBs. I knew it was ours!

“Load it up boy,” yelled Gramps. “No pizza tonight, we’re buggin outta here!” 

Transferring the tree to Gramps’ truck, they dashed to Mac n Dees, then for home. Pulling into the drive, headlights spotted Popcorn shivering on the porch. It turned out to be a good day after all!

Jack had taken stage. He captured an audience and won out in the end. The bell rang to end class and all left without a tardy slip. Another happily-ever-after moment.

All in all, my days were not always consumed by academia. It became apparent early in my career that my listening was just as important to these students as their learning. Subject matter for the boys seemed to revolve around three topics; hunting, drugs and sex. Girls shared their priorities as well; anything with drama. Tales aplenty, I was blessed with countless memories. Thanks Jack, and those who shared the “stage” of my office. 

Lessons Learned:

Listening and learning are validation to one’s growing knowledge. I learned so much from my students as they gained confidence and independence. I could write a book! 

Growing up, I seldom accepted or practiced reading for pleasure. Books were not aplenty in our home. I do not recall our town as having a public library. Other than a few Golden Books, a large collection of fairy tales (thank you, Aunt Pat), or any reads secured from the school library, reading was limited. 

Pleasure reading just did not exist. Idle time was devoted to farm chores, household duties, sibling care and school. Momma and Daddy subscribed to The Detroit Free Press, a few farm magazines and the J.C. Penney catalog. It was there I was introduced to comic strips, horoscopes, delicious recipes, and shopping by mail. My world expanded with the mindful thoughts of Ann Landers, Erma Bombeck, professional sports and the costs of shipping and handling. I read. I gleaned. I began to fill my thinker bucket. New-found knowledge and I were becoming one. 

The summer of 1962 ushered in the Bookmobile. Twice a month, this monstrous, feeble green library on wheels, took its afternoon residence in the nearby town of Delwin. Piled in the back of the Chevy truck, Momma introduced her kidlets to their very own library card and an assortment of books never before seen. Independent and pleasure reading tied neatly together in a book. My love for the printed word was born.

These books became sacred. As colorful and varied as any wide-eyed child could imagine, I was awed by the touch, smell and uncovered adventures that laid in wait. My early dreams of imagination and escape. Goodbye to Dick, Jane, Sally and Spot.

Throughout the school year, an hour or so was devoted to library time. Proper book etiquette and making protective jacket covers (using a paper bag) consumed us. And let us not forget becoming familiar with the card catalog and the Dewey Decimal System. It was there that I met and fell addictingly in like with “The Bobbsey Twins”, “The Boxcar Children”, and “Pippi Longstocking”. Their far-fetched adventures seemed so distant than my simple farm existence. I so longed to be a twin, pretend with a few sibs in a boxcar, or live crazy like Pippi. Secrets and comfort were just a tale away. 

Throughout senior high my pleasure reading waned but minimally suffered. Duties of the farm, home and academics took added priority. As an unlikely result, mandatory book reports took a survivalist turn to minimal and mindless effort.

It became common to check out a novel or two from the library. Familiarize with the front jacket, peruse pictures, read the first and last few chapters and begin to pen my thoughts. I’d compose my best report using perfect spelling and penmanship. Avoiding specific details, I easily gleaned low A’s and high B’s from my strategic plan. Good enough. 

College, marriage, teaching and motherhood continued to take priority over my efforts to read for enjoyment. Educational texts, Dr. Spock and Ladies Home Journal became my printed pleasures. My dreams of “take-me-away” had been sidelined. 

That all changed as daughter Jennifer entered her freshman year. She was given a list of classic novels to read before school commenced in September. Having an hour here and there, I took to reading “Native Son” by Richard Wright. This classic depicted the life of poverty and racial injustice. My desire to pleasure read had been rekindled. Once again, I was hooked. 

Since those early days of open eyes and mind, I have kept record of any and all reading undertaken. I have joined various book clubs, and subscriptions. Bookstores have a gentle likeness for me. There’s always an unfinished book on my nightstand. Endless time to imagine and escape. 

Some of my favorite reads include historical fiction, non-fiction and auto/biographies. Love, love, love taking my thoughts to another place and time. Relearning historical events seems effortless. Oh, and to read of the delights and struggles of another’s life… Nosy-Josy enjoys this as well! 

The following are a few of my favs:

Historical Fiction:  The Poisonwood Bible and Flight Behavior. Barbara Kingsolver. 

News of the World. Paulette Jiles. The Book Thief. Markus Zusak.

Non-Fiction:  Unbroken, Boys in the Boat and Seabiscuit. Laura Hillenbrand.

Auto/Biographies:  Love, Lucy. Lucille Ball. Empty Without You: The Intimate Letters of Eleanor Roosevelt and Loren Hickok”. Edited by Rodger Streitmatter.

All in all, the benefits of reading are plenty. We engage mental stimulation, we relearn, and all the while, increase vocabulary and memory. Reading slips one’s stress away while enhancing tranquility. Least of all, reading is FREE! It’s one of the lowest budget forms of entertainment.

Crack a book. Get comfortable with a beverage, favored chair and hum of the fridge. Escape for just a little and take time to find yourself. Soothe your soul. The “Ahhhh” will find you. 

Lessons Learned:

Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body. J. Addison. Expand, replenish, revive. Reading has done that for me.

A good book is like a good friend. It will stay with you for the rest of your life. C. Lovett

Thanks for reading!