Welcome to my blog


As a freelance columnist for the Ft. Myers, FL daily paper, The News-Press, I write about my generation. I welcome input and ideas of my fellow baby boomers.

Welcome to my boomer blog! If it's happening to/with me, it's probably going on with millions of others of my ilk who were born between 1946 and 1964. I am right in the middle of the boomer rush, from mid America and of the middle class. Need I say more? There are more of us than just about any age group that has thus far been labeled and we have unique experiences and needs. This space will address as many of these that go through my mind as I have time to record them.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Storytelling for Posterity


If I asked you to tell me a true story from your life, what comes immediately to your mind? Whatever that story is, you have my permission to share it with your children and grandchildren, no matter how much they would rather look at their IPhone.

I have a quote taped up on my wall where I can see it each time I sit at my computer. It reads, “The future belongs to storytellers.” Sorry that I can’t remember where I read or heard that, but I’m certain it was from a reliable source.

If I didn’t believe it before, I sure do now since seeing National Public Radio personality Ira Glass. He appeared at Barbara Mann Hall last week and simply talked with us for a while and played stories from his popular program, “This American Life.”  I was mesmerized, just as I am when I listen to his show on WGCU, FM 90.1 on Saturday from 1-2 and Sunday from Noon to 1 PM.

Glass says the show got off the ground when he and some others posited that public radio didn’t always have to have the aroma of broccoli – that is, didn’t always have to be elevating ones intellect.

“We sometimes think of our program as a documentary show for people who normally hate documentaries. A public radio show for people who don't necessarily care for public radio.”  Their web page explains.

The stories are about every day people who have encountered unusual circumstances, and they tell their stories with Ira adding his slant and asking the subjects what they think about what has happened. There’s nothing else quite like it.

Take the young doctor who took over for a small town GP who was in prison for murdering his father. Coincidentally, they had the same last name, and the doctor in prison was beloved by his community. This sent his replacement on a quest to find out just what happened to cause this man to snap and commit such a crime. We are taken by the hand through this small town as we meet its residents and accompany the young doctor.  Like every segment I’ve ever heard, I laughed and gasped and shook my head in wonder.

Anyway, all through Glass’s talk at Barbara Mann, I found myself fantasizing about doing what he does. Taking an idea and running with it – seeing where it goes. Or, meeting someone with an interesting story and getting all the details that only the one who experienced it can tell – while I, of course give my input.

Glass was asked if the interview subjects are coached since they are always so engaging. His answer was priceless: “The best stories seem to happen to people who are good storytellers.”

Have you come up with your story yet? While you continue thinking about it, I’ll share one that has been handed down through my mother’s side of the family. It takes place during the Civil War, and my great-grandfather is the 8-year-old star. Word had spread through his small Mississippi farm community that Union soldiers were on their way, and were taking anything they needed or wanted from the defenseless women, children and old men. My great grandfather’s mother told him to take the family’s mule into the deep woods and hide him well. The family would starve without the mule to help them plow their field and plant food. So, the 8-year-old boy did his job very well. So well that no one could find him for 3 days. You see, they had failed to explain to him that he could come home after he hid the mule. So, it took the entire community 3 days to locate the boy and mule after the Yankees had departed.

Obviously, there is no one still alive who can vouch for this story, but I think of it like one of those that is passed down through cultures without a written language. That is how they endure for generations.

So, how about the next time you’re sitting around with your family, you look up from your laptop or Smart Phone and say, “Did I ever tell you folks the story about…….



Monday, April 15, 2013

Farmers Markets


Just about everyone I know plans their Saturday around a trip to the farmer’s market. Not just here in Cape Coral where we have a fabulous one for sure, but all over the country. My friends don’t ask if I’m going to the market on Saturday, they ask me what time I’m going. If I have to miss it for some reason, I give a list to a trusted shopper who knows just which vendors I like.

Aficionados of the market know that it’s much more than picking up produce. It’s a total sensual experience. There are fruits and vegetables in every color of the rainbow. Smells from the fresh flowers and food vendors waft through the throngs of people and their dogs. Yes, dogs. Fortunately, our market is dog friendly, and we get to watch them greet each other and wag and greet us as we stop to pat their heads or join in a petting frenzy. And music. A beautiful background of steel drums or acoustic guitar or songs we love to sing along with fill the air.

My first trip to a farmers market was in the 70’s in my home town of Flint, Michigan. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were fresh eggs and home made pies and all kinds of foods cooking as this market is indoor/outdoor. The flower vendor was a bearded guy with one hooked arm. A bright posie was always in his beard and abroad smile completed the picture.

The market was a must stop when I would visit my mother in the years after I left Michigan. We would buy all the things my daddy used to grow in his garden, and go home and prepare a nostalgic dinner. Growing up with parents from Mississippi, our summer dinner table was resplendent with turnip greens, black eyed peas, fried okra and crooked neck squash, fresh bright yellow sweet corn, with  brilliant red sliced tomatoes and small scallions on the side. My mom’s hot corn bread fresh out of the iron skillet turned upside down on a plate, was a staple.

When I visited a friend in Eugene, Oregon last summer, I discovered a most unique farmers market. Every vendor had organic produce, and all meats and eggs (even those sold in the walk-up restaurants) had to be from family-owned sustainable farms. Everyone seemed so rosy cheeked and healthy in their North Face and Patagonia Saturday clothes.

Yes, it was special, but I have a deep love for my market at Club Square. It has grown from 16 vendors in 1994, to more than 85 currently. Every square inch of the huge lot is filled as the parking spaces become fewer and fewer. Claudia St. Onge of the Cape Coral Chamber of Commerce is the force behind the exponential growth of our wonderful market. She told me that they estimate that there are 5-6 thousand of us passing through every Saturday.

If you’ve been, you’ve noticed that even when there is a long line, or many people vying for a vendor’s attention, that everyone is smiling, patient and polite. Much of the trade is done on the honor system with people rattling off what is in their bag as they fumble with their money as the vendor adds it all up.

It’s about more than filling our refrigerators. I believe these trips also fill our souls. We get a little closer to the earth, to our neighbors and to our communities.

By the way:

•According to the US Dept. of Agriculture, there were 3,137 farmers markets in 2002, and 7,864 by 2012.

•There’s a vendor in the southernmost row who sells passion fruit. If you’ve never tried one, you must! You eat them seeds and all, and they are too delicious to describe.

•In the same row is a vendor who sells fabulous coffee with steamed milk and beignets. Totally worth the calories.