Posted by Karla Lofgren Davis October 30, 2007
There was a recent article in the local newspaper, written by an esteemed Clinical Psychologist in our community. He wrote in answer to a man of about our age, asking how therapy would help an older adult live a richer, fuller life. (He was clearly resisting his doctor’s encouragement to seek some counsel from a mental health professional.)
Within the psychologist’s rather lengthy and complex answer to that question, he mentioned “REMINISCENCE THERAPY”. Said he, “Reminiscence therapy encourages people to reminisce and reflect on various times of their lives. The process encourages the development of insight into positive areas of one’s past which may have been overlooked or temporarily forgotten”. He goes on to say this helps “older adults” deal with a variety of feelings: grief over losses, issues of perceived failure, despair over unresolved conflicts. On a more positive note, it helps them realize they are worthwhile as a person, their life has mattered, they have had an impact on others. It may even give them renewed interest in areas that once held meaning and satisfaction in life.
Now while I am not suggesting that this blog fills a doctor’s prescription for true professional therapy if needed, I did respond to this article with an “AHA!” moment. One of the reasons I am getting such satisfaction from reconnecting with all of you is that this whole blogging experience is taking me down a very pleasant path…a stroll down memory lane. It is helping me understand from whence I have come and, in part, how I got to be who I am today. I feel greatly privileged that so many of you are walking this path with me and providing so much rich material with which to interact along the way. You are also providing some very provocative and satisfying detours and side-paths as you mention many things that I would surely not conjure up on my own. I hope the same is true for you!
One such “added path” for me was provided by a comment made by Mike Roberts under the “Signing-in” post. He concluded his initial contribution to the blog with this…
“I will never pass through a door, lock it, and throw away the key!”
I do not know if he was quoting some great philosopher (a Google search yielded no help on this) or if it is his own homespun wisdom. I do know that I have thought about his quote many times since reading it initially. Thomas Wolfe wrote “You Can’t Go Home Again”, and there is a certainly a sense in which that is true. But what Mike's quote says to me is that we should always keep the doors behind us open, even if it is only the doors to our memories. I like that thought. My life has certainly been enriched by opening the doors of my memory to all of you. Your comments on this topic would be a welcome addition to this blog.
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Comments
Posted by: Karla Lofgren Davis | September 29, 2007 at 11:40 AM
Mike Roberts had better weigh in quick...I'm stealing (or giving him the credit for - depending on your perspective!) his great ideas!!!
Here is a poem he recently sent to his e-mail group (of which I am now privileged to be a member). Since it has so much relationship to this post I decided to add it here...
LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY,
IN A LAND THAT TIME FORGOT,
BEFORE THE DAYS OF DYLAN,
OR THE DAWN OF CAMELOT.
THERE LIVED A RACE OF INNOCENTS,
AND THEY WERE YOU AND ME,
LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
OH, THERE WAS TRUTH AND GOODNESS
IN THAT LAND WHERE WE WERE BORN,
WHERE NAVELS WERE FOR ORANGES,
AND PEYTON PLACE WAS PORN.
FOR IKE WAS IN THE WHITE HOUSE,
AND HOSS WAS ON TV,
AND GOD WAS IN HIS HEAVEN
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
WE LEARNED TO GUT A MUFFLER,
WE WASHED OUR HAIR AT DAWN,
WE SPREAD OUR CRINOLINES TO DRY
IN CIRCLES ON THE LAWN.
AND THEY COULD HEAR US COMING
ALL THE WAY TO TENNESSEE ,
ALL STARCHED AND SPRAYED AND RUMBLING
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
WE LONGED FOR LOVE AND ROMANCE,
AND WAITED FOR THE PRINCE,
AND EDDIE FISHER MARRIED LIZ,
AND NO ONE'S SEEN HIM SINCE.
WE DANCED TO 'LITTLE DARLIN'',
AND SANG TO 'STAGGER LEE'
AND CRIED FOR BUDDY HOLLY
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
ONLY GIRLS WORE EARRINGS THEN,
AND THREE WAS ONE TOO MANY,
AND ONLY BOYS WORE FLAT-TOP CUTS,
EXCEPT FOR JEAN MCKINNEY.
AND ONLY IN OUR WILDEST DREAMS
DID WE EXPECT TO SEE
A BOY NAMED GEORGE, WITH LIPSTICK
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
WE FELL FOR FRANKIE AVALON,
ANNETTE WAS OH, SO NICE,
AND WHEN THEY MADE A MOVIE,
THEY NEVER MADE IT TWICE.
WE DIDN'T HAVE A STAR TREK FIVE,
OR PSYCHO TWO AND THREE,
OR ROCKEY-RAMBO TWENTY
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
MISS KITTY HAD A HEART OF GOLD,
AND CHESTER HAD A LIMP,
AND REAGAN WAS A DEMOCRAT
WHOSE CO-STAR WAS A CHIMP.
WE HAD A MR. WIZARD,
BUT NOT A MR. T,
AND OPRAH COULDN'T TALK, YET
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
WE HAD OUR SHARE OF HEROES,
WE NEVER THOUGHT THEY'D GO,
AT LEAST NOT BOBBY DARIN,
NOR MARILYN MONROE.
FOR YOUTH WAS STILL ETERNAL,
AND LIFE WAS YET TO BE,
AND ELVIS WAS FOREVER,
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
WE'D NEVER SEEN THE ROCK BAND
THAT WAS GRATEFUL TO BE DEAD,
AND AIRPLANES WEREN'T NAMED JEFFERSON,
AND ZEPPELINS WEREN'T LED.
AND BEATLES LIVED IN GARDENS THEN,
AND MONKEES IN A TREE,
MADONNA WAS A VIRGIN
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
WE'D NEVER HEARD OF MICROWAVES,
OR TELEPHONES IN CARS,
AND BABIES MIGHT BE BOTTLE-FED,
BUT THEY WEREN'T GROWN IN JARS.
AND PUMPING IRON GOT WRINKLES OUT,
AND 'GAY' MEANT FANCY-FREE,
AND DORMS WERE NEVER COED
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
WE HADN'T SEEN ENOUGH OF JETS
TO TALK ABOUT THE LAG,
AND MICROCHIPS WERE WHAT WAS LEFT AT
THE BOTTOM OF THE BAG.
AND HARDWARE WAS A BOX OF NAILS,
AND BYTES CAME FROM A FLEA,
AND ROCKET SHIPS WERE FICTION
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
BUICKS CAME WITH PORTHOLES,
AND SIDE SHOWS CAME WITH FREAKS,
AND BATHING SUITS CAME BIG ENOUGH
TO COVER BOTH YOUR CHEEKS.
AND COKE CAME JUST IN BOTTLES,
AND SKIRTS CAME TO THE KNEE,
AND CASTRO CAME TO POWER
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
WE HAD NO CREST WITH FLUORIDE,
WE HAD NO HILL STREET BLUES,
WE ALL WORE SUPERSTRUCTURE BRAS
DESIGNED BY HOWARD HUGHES.
WE HAD NO PATTERNED PANTYHOSE
NOR LIPTON HERBAL TEA
NOR PRIME-TIME ADS FOR CONDOMS
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
THERE WERE NO GOLDEN ARCHES,
NO PERRIERS TO CHILL,
AND FISH WERE NOT CALLED WANDA,
AND CATS WERE NOT CALLED BILL.
AND MIDDLE-AGED WAS THIRTY-FIVE
AND OLD WAS FORTY-THREE,
AND ANCIENT WAS OUR PARENTS
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
BUT ALL THINGS HAVE A SEASON,
OR SO WE'VE HEARD THEM SAY,
AND NOW INSTEAD OF MAYBELLINE
WE SWEAR BY RETIN-A.
AND THEY SEND US INVITATIONS
TO JOIN AARP,
WE'VE COME A LONG WAY, BABY,
FROM THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
SO NOW WE FACE A BRAVE NEW WORLD
IN SLIGHTLY LARGER JEANS,
AND WONDER WHY THEY'RE USING
SMALLER PRINT IN MAGAZINES.
AND WE TELL OUR CHILDREN'S CHILDREN
OF THE WAY IT USED TO BE,
LONG AGO, AND FAR AWAY
IN THE LAND THAT MADE ME ME.
Poem provided by Mike Roberts, comment submitted by Karla Davis
Posted by: Mike Roberts | September 30, 2007 at 09:20 AM
Hi Karla, I received this poem from a member of my buddy list and was so taken by it that I had to pass it on. I am attempting to find out from whence it came.
As to the " snipet ", I think I must have heard this from someone who I admired greatly and used it as a tool in life to explain my feelings on any subject and to keep an open mind to endless possibilities at the same time. There is always another opinion !
Who was it that said, " Be careful how you treat those you encounter on the way up the hills climbed, for they may be the very ones you will need assistance from on your way down."
COMMENT POSTED 01/09/08
Billy Carter sent this poem, another version of one published earlier on this post, sent by Mike Roberts. Very appropriate to our group! (KD)
THE LAND OF SANDRA DEE
Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan or the dawn of Camelot.
There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me,
Long ago and far away, in the Land of Sandra Dee.
Oh, there was truth and goodness in that land where we were born, Where navels were seen on oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.
For Ike was in the White House, and Hoss was on TV,
And God was in His heaven in the Land of Sandra Dee.
We longed for love and romance, and waited for our prince,
And Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one's seen him since.
We danced to "Little Darlin'," and the "Unchained Melody",
And we laughed with Martin & Lewis in the Land of Sandra Dee.
Only girls wore earrings then, and three was one too many,
And only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean McKinney.
And only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see,
A boy named George with lipstick on in the Land of Sandra Dee.
We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie, they never made it twice.
We didn't have a Star Trek Five, or Psycho two and three,
Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty in the Land of Sandra Dee.
Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp.
We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr. T,
And Oprah couldn't even talk yet in the Land of Sandra Dee.
We had our favorite stars, we never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe.
For youth seemed eternal, and life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever, in the Land of Sandra Dee.
We'd never heard of Microwaves, or cup holders in our cars,
And babies might be bottled-fed, but not created in jars.
Pumping iron got wrinkles out, and "gay" meant fancy-free,
And Dorms were never co-ed in the Land of Sandra Dee.
We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,
Microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.
Hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea,
And rocket ships were fiction in the Land of Sandra Dee.
Buicks had portholes, and side shows came with freaks,
Bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks.
And coke came just in bottles, and skirts came to the knee,
And going steady was always fun in the Land of Sandra Dee.
Cars had bench seats so she'd sit close to his side,
A classy knob on the steering wheel, we'd enjoy the ride.
And there was no bottled water, water was always free.
We often drank from a water hose in the Land of Sandra Dee.
We had no Crest with Fluoride, We had no Hill Street Blues,
Girls wore superstructure bras designed by Howard Hughes.
We never heard of panty hose, or Lipton Herbal Tea.
Cell phones were the phones in jails in the Land of Sandra Dee.
But all things have a season, or so we've heard them say,
Instead of drive-in movies, we can rent one any day.
And they send us invitations to join A.A.R.P.,
We've come a long way, Baby, from the Land of Sandra Dee.
So now we face a brave new world in slightly larger jeans,
And wonder why there's smaller print in all the magazines.
We tell our children's children of the way it use to be,
Long ago and far away, in the Land of Sandra Dee.
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Hi Karla, I communicated with Billy about the poem and ( he is so resourceful ) he googled it and found that it was penned by Leeland Waldrip. Thanks Billy and thank you Karla for allowing us this vehicle of communication !
Posted by: Mike Roberts | January 09, 2008 at 02:40 PM