Ways with Words

This time I am not going to apologize for being so inconsistent with my posts. It's one of my faults - no, wait  - I'd rather use the word idiosyncrasies. Inconsistency is one of my idiosyncrasies!
What a great word. It doesn't sound negative at all, does it? It actually sounds like fun.

Sounds like a word Miranda would like. In case you haven't heard of her, Miranda Hart is one of the funniest women I have ever had the pleasure to watch on television. I recently discovered this British comedien's show online, and could not get enough of it. If you need a good laugh - check out her show.

I've always loved words - reading them, hearing them, writing them. Love playing Scrabble and doing the Jumble. Spelling and English were my best subjects in school. I actually enjoyed diagramming sentences. Talk about an idiosyncrasy!

One of the things I like about Miranda is her obsession with certain words. In the middle of a scene, she will suddenly focuse on a word, and her eyes wide, face the camera and repeat it to the point of hilarity -  emphasizing every syllable, bringing it to life - until you just have to laugh. The only word I can think of at the moment that she favors is "thrust" - we won't go there right now. Plinth is another. Say that one out loud slowly and see how it brings your lips and tongue into action!

I also smile when I think of some words I would only hear my very intelligent father use - like rapacious. Seriously, how many people do you know that use that word? Years ago, I was re-visiting one of my childhood vacations spots in Asbury Park, NJ with him and my kids, when he noted that the price of the amusement rides were "rapacious!" Really Dad, rapacious?

Words have so much power. This really hit home for me a few weeks ago while I watched a live stream presentation of the Pakistani teenager's Malala Yousafzai's inspiring speech at the United Nations. On her 16h birthday,  this extraordinary teenager gave her first public remarks since she was shot by the Taliban last year for advocating that all girls should be able to get an education.

Malala was named one of Time magazine's 100 most influential people in the world in 2013. And it all began with her blog  which she began in early 2009, writing under a pseudonym for the BBC detailing her life under Taliban rule. Never did she dream she would be joining the United Nations in it's efforts to promote education as a basic right for youth all over the world.

Before she was attacked, Malala was in the process of setting up an organization with her friends to get girls into school and out of domestic labor. Her dream has become a reality: The Malala Fund supports the education and empowerment of girls in Pakistan and around the world.

From a simple bog to worldwide recognition as an inspirational proponent for girls' education. It's amazing what words can do.

 I had no idea when I began this post where it was headed. I just knew I felt like writing - sharing some words. Obviously, words have power - they can make us smile, laugh, cringe and cry, sometimes even open our eyes to something new, something life altering - not only for ourselves, but for others all over the world.

Now, I don't expect to change the world with my blog but, I can at least share the words of those that are doing so. And, for that freedom, I am grateful.

The Innocent Face of Evil

Ok, I'm embarrassed that I have started a blog a few times, a few years apart, and then let it go. Great way to engage a following, no?

I've ignored the inner urgings to continue writing (as former newspaper reporter and copywriter), and promptings from my son, who has read things that I have not shared with others.

Tonight I was moved to comment with more than a few lines on my reaction to the apprehension of the 2nd suspect in the Boston Marathon bombings. Actually, my major reaction was to the posted image of the young man that was apprehended this evening (visual person that I am, despite the writing background).

After posting my thoughts, the first two comments that appeared were from two former editors at two separate newspapers for which I previously worked. The first I had just recently connected with on Facebook, and the second, I just connected with after the post. Seriously? Is that not a sign? Duh.

Therefore, here is what I posted, and I will continue this blog, if only because I now know I am meant to do so, even if no one reads it....

 Following is the post I shared on Facebook tonight, Friday,  April 19, 2013:

Suspect #2 has been apprehended. Those in the Boston area in harm's way are breathing a sigh of relief. My heart goes out to the victims and their families - deceased, injured and traumatized.

As horrific as all of the videos and images of the bombing & aftermath were, what I found even more chilling was the image of the innocent-looking 19-year old child, who less than a year ago became a US citizen, with his whole life ahead of him, full of potential to be educated, succeed and do good in the world, turned terrorist.

I looked at this image of this clean-shaven, clear-faced, relatively attractive young man, and I got the chills. Tears came to my eyes, wondering how such a innocent young soul could be filled with so much hatred so early in life. How could such an intelligent being be swayed to engage in so much evil?

I have no answer.

As this blog is entitled "A Grateful Late Bloomer," I feel compelled to add something that has to do with gratitude here, as lame or insulting to those who have suffered at the hands of these terrorists it may be. And, please know, I do not take their suffering lightly.

What could I possibly be grateful for here?

I'm grateful for all the brave people in Boston and surrounding areas that worked so diligently to find the perpetrators - both law enforcement officials and everyday citizens. I'm grateful for the immediate responders - both professional and bystanders - who took action to help the victims. This list could go on and on.

But, I am also grateful that I live in a country that attracts and embraces individuals from all different countries, of all different races, with all different beliefs, of all different religions, etc., and will continue to do so, no matter what the extreme minority might do to the majority in this all-inclusive community we call America.

 

 

An Idea Whose Time Has Come

Above is one of my favorite quotes. I've had it hanging over my computer for years - so many years, in fact, I often no longer notice it. But, it just happens to be the first quote that appears on my favorite video (which is actually an impressive advertisement for inspirational posters). That connection clicked just the other day.

If we are open to it, we can find inspiration in the most unexpected places. I'm learning so many things at this late stage in my life - pushing 62 - that I have to stop and tell myself (when I start bemoaning the fact that I "should have learned this years ago"), that it's o.k. How can I be anywhere else but where I'm supposed to be?

While writing this, I did an online search for terms such as "late bloomer," and I was surprised at the number and types of pages that appeared. One was, "How to Succeed in Life as a Late Bloomer."

If only life were so easy - just follow these nine steps and a number of helpful tips. Not so. It's all based on trial and error. And trying again. And for some of us, trying again, and again, and again.

I did appreciate the following advice and story:
"Be creative in overcoming obstacles. Don't let anything, even a lack of money or age discrimination, come between you and your dreams. If you're facing a wall you can't blast through, grab a shovel and dig under it or borrow a ladder and climb over the top! Better yet, just walk around the side. Take Evelyn Gregory, who became a flight attendant for US Air Express at age 71. After being rejected by three airlines, she accepted a job as a gate agent and let the corporate brass get to know her. Six months later, she was hired by US Air Express and flew for them for the next seven years."

"Remember that nothing you like to do is tiresome. From the outside looking in, it sounds daunting to go to medical school at 46, join the Peace Corps at 65, or become a flight attendant at 71. But the truth is that it isn't exhausting; it's exhilarating. It's far more tiring to do something you don't enjoy."

This is my second attempt at a blog. I started one when I turned 60, (S.O.S, - Starting Over at Sixty), because I was also single and had just lost my job right before I hit the big 6-0. It was painful. I thought it was a clever name, but it was also more of a plea for help, rather than a possible forum for sharing support and encouragement for others in a similar situation. I knew I was far from the only one.

I only posted two or three entries. Something was stopping me. That something was me. I guess I just wasn't ready. The timing wasn't right.

So, I begin again. New name, new blog, new attitude (which I admit, will take work to maintain). It's not that I no longer feel the need for anyone's help. I need that more than ever. We all do, even if we don't know it. I'm finally realizing others - even if only a few - just might need mine.

I am here for a reason.

I have something to offer.

I think my time has finally come, and for that, I am grateful.