flying

Conversation with…A tattered flag…begging to stand for something new.

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 75 Comments

Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I noticed an old, tattered flag on the ground. It was just what I needed in my life so I rushed over!

flag 1

Hey flag! I see you’ve been through a lot.  Me too!

TATTERED FLAG: Don’t judge me. I know I look saggy on the outside, but I don’t feel that way on the inside. I’ve got a lot inside that wants to come out, but who’s gonna take an old, torn flag seriously?

I will! This could be the start of something big!

TATTERED FLAG: What are you talking about?

Here’s the thing. All my life, I’ve been kinda quirky, and I’ve always put myself down for it. I’ve called myself, “fearful” or “neurotic” or “weird.”

TATTERED FLAG: So?

So for better or worse, at this point in my life since I don’t think I’m going to become a completely different person, why not stand up for my quirky self and be proud of it?

TATTERED FLAG: What do you do that’s quirky?

 Well, I don’t like elevators because I’m super claustrophobic.  Whenever I enter a building, the first thing I look for is the staircase. I always apologize for myself and then take the stairs.

 TATTERED FLAG: Is that all?

No. I have a panic button that can go off at any moment. Like, if I’m in an office building and the fire alarm gongs, while others are standing around assuming it’s a mistake, I’ve already raced out the door and run five blocks away.

TATTERED FLAG: Anything else?

Sure. Even though I’ve traveled in a plane lots of times, flying always makes me insanely nervous. So I’ve done most of my world traveling on youtube.

TATTERED FLAG: I’m guessing there’s more.

Of course. When I’m at home and open a new container of cottage cheese or milk and use a little bit, I’m afraid I’ll forget I’ve opened the container. I’m afraid the next time I want to use the milk or cottage cheese, I’ll worry I bought an opened container and someone poisoned my food. So for peace of mind, every time I open a new container, I write, “OK” on it. That way, I’m sure it hasn’t been poisoned. And then other times I–

TATTERED FLAG: That’s enough. What does all this have to do with me?

Well, in my older age, I’m thinking, “Maybe I won’t apologize for my offbeat behavior anymore. Instead, I’ll embrace it and FLY MY FREAK FLAG.”

 TATTERED FLAG: And…I’m the freak flag?

Obviously. I’d wave you proudly as I write “OK” on my containers. If I’m taking a train to visit my daughter who lives 3,000 miles away, you’ll be furling in my hand. The next time I’m faced with an elevator, I’ll hold you up high as I’m taking the stairs. After all these years, I will accept the person I am and wave my freak flag in all my glory.

TATTERED FLAG: Whatever. I’m in. But right now I’m just a ragged flag that looks like it’s been through the wash too many times. How can I become a freak flag?

 Easy. Just add more eyeballs.

flag 2

TATTERED FLAG: I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of that myself.

 Don’t give it a second thought. Welcome to my world.

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

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Do you fly a freak flag? Care to share?

Conversation With…Mother of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer…about empty nester worrying

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 54 Comments

Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I came to a huge building known as “The Worriers’ Warehouse.” In my older age, I worry more than ever. So I went inside and immediately noticed an older reindeer nervously biting her hooves. It was easy to start a conversation:

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Hey Reindeer, what are you worried about?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: My son Rudolph.

Wait. Are you telling me you’re Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’s mother?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Yes. And I’m constantly refilling my Valium prescription.

Why? What could you possibly be worried about? He’s Santa’s personal assistant! You raised this heroic, caring reindeer who pulls a sleigh filled with presents to children all over the world.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Christmas Eve makes me crazy for the entire year. It takes me 364 days to recover from it.

Why?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: How would you like it if your son flew across the sky all night lugging a five billion ton sleigh filled with gifts? What’s holding him up there anyway?

Magic?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Not the most reassuring concept for a mother. What if he makes a crash landing?

I never thought of that—

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Or if he doesn’t crash, what about his physical health? He’s dragging a sleigh full of gifts for kids all over the world with just a few other reindeer. He could pull his back out.

I see your point.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Not to mention, my Rudolph could pass out from exhaustion! Thirst! Hunger! It’s a busy night! No breaks! Very high pressure! And I know him! He’ll never say no!

Another point well taken.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: And what if Rudolph has to fly through a blizzard? Or a tornado? Or a severe thunderstorm? Who knows how high those reindeer go? My son could be hit by a meteor! Or slam into the moon! He could—

All this makes complete sense, but you’re not alone. I worry about all kinds of things with my adult kids, too.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Like what?

Bad relationships, lack of relationships, driving at night, driving too fast, driving when the sun is rising and blocking vision, driving when the sun is setting and blocking vision, traveling in planes, buses, trains, taxis, living on pizza, needing help when there’s no one around–

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Okay, okay. We’re on the same worrying page.

But with all that, I also think we’re giving our kids one big, giant, great gift.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Oh good. Because I never know what to get Rudolph for Christmas. What’s the gift?

The gift of freedom. That way, our adult children can DO all the things we worry about. They have a chance to figure out where they belong in the world. When we don’t call or text them every five seconds or stalk them on Facebook, we’re letting them go. It’s a gift. Even though it kills us inside.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Well in that case…why can’t we just say to ourselves we raised mature, intelligent beings who can take care of themselves and make good choices? What if I stopped worrying about my millennial reindeer so much?

What if I stopped worrying about my adult kids so much?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Would something be missing from our relationships with our children?

Yes. Our connection.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Are you sure about that?

No. But I worry about it.

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

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How do you control the amount you worry about those you care about? (This includes pets.)

Conversation With…Fading Tinker Bell…About believing in older fairies

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 84 Comments

Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I noticed a fading, flickering light in the distance. As a fan of fairy tales, I knew who it was right away. Tinker Bell! From the story of Peter Pan! I remembered her light faded the same way during her story, when Captain Hook poisoned Peter Pan’s medicine and Tinker Bell drank it to save Peter’s life.  After that, children everywhere clapped their hands to voice their belief in fairies…and Tinker Bell came alive So, why was she fading again? I rushed over and cried, “Excuse me, Tinker Bell. I’m not the paparazzi. I’m a loyal fan. Why are you flickering?  What’s wrong?!” She answered in a weak, faint voice:

Tinker Bell

TINKER BELL: I flew Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road to rekindle my spirit, but it isn’t working. I’m dying.

You can’t die! How did this happen? Did you drink Peter’s poisoned medicine again?

TINKER BELL: No. The situation is quite different this time. You see, after all these years, Peter has stayed young as he was meant to. But I have aged. I’m ever so much more than 110.

But you’re a fairy! Maybe you can live longer! Why is your spirit dying?

TINKER BELL: Because I’m not useful to Peter anymore. Do you remember our story? We appear outside children’s bedroom windows at bedtime and fly them to Neverland.

Of course I remember your story! I was always waiting for you!

TINKER BELL: Well, my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. I can’t fly in the dark as well anymore.

So? You’re not alone. I can’t drive at night as well as I used to.

TNKER BELL: I appreciate your kind words. But that isn’t the only problem. You see, I always carry fairy dust to help children fly. But these days, I can no longer carry it. The weight of all that fairy dust throws my back out.

I have back issues too. But that’s no reason to give up on everything in older age. Can’t you try to adjust? That’s what everyone else does.

TINKER BELL: How?

Well, as long as we’re on the subject, I’ll blurt out something that has bothered  me about the story of Peter Pan for decades. It might help.

TINKER BELL: Go ahead. I fear I’m almost dead anyway.

Stop saying that!  Listen to me! Every time I read the story of Peter Pan, I feel it’s unfair that only children get to fly to Neverland. What about adults, like me, who will always be young at heart?  Why can’t we go too?

TINKER BELL: That is an excellent question. I’d like to fly you to Neverland myself, but as I told, you, I don’t see as well at night anymore. I muddle through it with Peter, but I don’t think I can add extra excursions.

You’re missing the point. I can’t see as well at night either, so I’d be happier flying to Neverland during the day! I bet others who are young at heart would say the same thing.

TINKER BELL: Hmmm…perhaps I could manage that. But what about the fairy dust? I can’t carry it.

I’ve got that figured out too. When you decide which bedroom window you’d like to visit, go ahead and order fairy dust from amazon.com a few days in advance. Use their two-day delivery service with free shipping.

TINKER BELL: Hmmm….Tempting thought.

Yes! And that way, the fairy dust will be waiting for you on any  bedroom windowsill as soon as you arrive there.

TINKER BELL: You know, I think this could work.

Yaaay!

TINKER BELL: But there’s one other thing I’ll need before I begin taking others on daytime trips to Neverland.

What’s that?

TINKER BELL: Heartfelt support to keep me alive.

What do you mean?

TINKER BELL: I’ll explain. As you recall, in my story, when I drank Peter’s poisoned medicine and almost died, Peter asked children everywhere to clap their hands to prove they believed in fairies.

I remember I clapped so loudly, my hands almost fell off.

TINKER BELL: That was you? Oh thank you. Anyway, now I must ask all those who will always be young at heart to clap for me again, and chant: “I believe in older fairies. I believe in older fairies.”

I’m in. And…everyone reading this post who feels the way I do, please, please clap your hands and chant along with me: “I believe in older fairies! I believe in older fairies! I believe in older fairies! I believe in older fairies!!!!!”

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I’d like to extend a huge, heartfelt thank you to all those who clapped and chanted. We brought Tinker Bell back to life. From this day forward, please listen for a light tapping on your bedroom window. Yes, it might be a woodpecker. But you never know. It might also be Tinker Bell, waiting to fly you to Neverland.

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018