It’s everywhere and there seems to be no escape.  Noise pollution is getting to be the number one complaint these days of a lot of people.

For me, it started when I noticed I was becoming privy to everyone’s intimate conversations.  I can’t even tell you the disturbingly personal things I happen to know about perfect strangers that I was unfortunate enough to share a gate with at the airport.  The cell phone, of course, is the culprit.

Then there’s the music.  Everywhere, all the time.  I go to a lonely stretch of beach to escape and listen to the waves.  Then someone comes along, sets up down the beach, and gets their music blasting.  The soothing waves are drowned out.

Yes, I use “noise” to make money.  I’m guilty.  Just by writing this blog I’m creating noise.  I try to keep it down.  I try not to use too many in-your-face, bouncing-off-the-wall graphics or pop ups.  But, I still use noise.  Sorry.

We need to escape the noise when we can.  It’s true that I don’t create enough escapes from the noise for myself.  I was reminded of this by David Damron at TheMinimalistPath.com .  As a matter of fact, right after I read his blog post about noise, I turned off the TV and sat out on my balcony with my tea.  Thanks David!  I suggest you click on the link to his blog and give it a read.  Very interesting and enlightening.

David’s approach was very simple, minimalist you might say.  Give up noise when you can.  He has chosen, for instance, to eliminate his music when he takes his short runs.  Something like that you have control of.

You can’t force someone else to turn off their music or gadgets when you’re trapped at the airport, but you can enjoy the peace and quiet of your own thoughts when you’re out for a walk, run, or at home.

Do what you can today to escape the noise.  Take five minutes and sit in total silence.  See what thoughts pop up without any outside influences.  It’s an interesting concept that we seem to have lost along the technological highway.  Your own thoughts… now that’s a thought.

Thanks again, David, for the reminder that we all need to spend a little time with our own thoughts.

Perhaps you know about the Dove Evolution Campaign.  If not, it’s a campaign that started a while back to show us, especially our daughters and sons, what real people look like before the make up, hair, and photoshop gets a hold of them.

I stumbled upon this video, and the campaign, through a great blog called Hummingbird Mind .  Her “Empty Nest – Full Life” credo rings true with me.  She has taken her empty nest and filled it with her passion for living.

Because she has raised daughters, she has affinity for the struggles that every mother has with her daughters;  especially when it comes to their self-esteem.

When a mother hears a tear-soaked cry from her daughter proclaiming she’s not pretty enough, it’s a cruel reminder of what our society is doing to us.  It tugs at our hearts and infuriates us at the same time.  How can my beautiful daughter or granddaughter see herself that way?

Well, here’s the answer.

Show this video to your daughters, your sons, and anyone else who thinks they know what real beauty is when they see a fashion magazine or billboard.

Granted, I wouldn’t mind a bit of photoshopping on my own ol’ lady face and figure, but it’s not reality. And happiness starts with reality and acceptance – especially when we’re young and just forming our opinions of ourselves and our bodies.

The next time you hear a young girl or boy complain about their appearance, show them this video. Let them know that what they are comparing their body to is a cartoon drawing with no basis in reality. They may as well compare themselves to Daffy Duck… or Barbie.

Back to Barbie… I thought we’d learned that lesson back in the 60′s.  I guess not.  We are still sold the “body beautiful” in plastic, silicone,  and photoshopped images.

Will there ever be a time when we are NOT told we’ll be happy if we are just ________ enough?

p.s.  I do believe true beauty lies within and one has to feel good to look good.  Exercise has a lot to do with how a person feels.  I exercise because, yes, I want to be fit and trim, but mostly because I want to be strong and healthy.  You can read more about what I have learned about exercise by clicking on this link:  Lessons I Learned About Exercising

It’s been hot, hot, hot here. There’s no escape from the heat for me since our lovely beaches have been ruined by oil.

(More on that thought if you click here to read about the BP oil spill and how it feels to have it in my backyard.)

But, I digress…

The days are hot.  Hotter than I remember in a long, long, time.  Being lazy in this heat brings a quote to mind and since it’s so hot and I don’t feel much like writing, I’ll just send you off with this to think about today…

I’d give all wealth that years have piled,
The slow result of Life’s decay,
To be once more a little child,
For one bright summer day.
~Lewis Carroll~

Okay, you may be wondering what a diehard “wrinklie” such as myself is doing looking at buying a Kindle.  After all, people our age don’t like techie gadgets, right?  Sort of.  But, I have my price – I can be “bought” – and the price just came down within the “I think I’ll look at this” range.

Yes, the price is right.  You can now get  Kindle Wireless Reading for only $189, that’s down from $259.  It may be worth a try at this price.  Okay, it IS worth a try at this price.  Click on the link above or here to take a look at what the Kindle has to offer.

p.s.  I’ll let you know what I think after I get a chance to actually use the Kindle.  Have you used one?  What do you think.  Share your views with me in a comment please.  And if you don’t have one yet, click on here to get it now at this great price.

The simple answer is no. It doesn’t matter to the 11 families who lost a loved one due to criminal negligence by BP. It doesn’t matter to the hundreds of thousands of creatures who will lose their lives because they are drenched in toxic waste. It doesn’t matter to the hundreds of thousands of people who’s livelihoods have been taken away from them.

And it doesn’t matter to people like me who’s reason for moving to Florida was to enjoy the pristine, unspoiled beaches. BP says they’re going to clean things up and restore the beaches and wetlands. But, they can’t restore those 11 lives and they can’t restore the dead wildlife.

The oil and tar has washed up on Florida beaches. The same beaches I have pictured here. This is my backyard; this is America’s backyard.

BP has killed 11 men and now they are killing wildlife throughout the Gulf of Mexico, seen and unseen. Without safety precautions in place, how was this, or any other, oil rig allowed to drill? This is pure and simple criminal negligence, if not murder.

Shame on BP and shame on our government for giving any of these oil rigs permission to drill.

I’m going to quit ranting now and just re-post my original thoughts about the oil spill after my last, and final, visit to my beloved white sand beaches of the Florida panhandle.  Here it is:
I was recently enjoying the beautiful white sands and gentle surf of the Gulf Islands National Seashore at Fort Pickens.

While sitting silently, enjoying the sound of the waves, a Sandhill Crane approached me, walking slowly, until it got within a few feet away.

While I watched, it took to the air in a wide sweeping motion that would make a Blue Angel pilot jealous – so close I could feel the breeze produced by the wings.

I turned to watch the emerald green waters lap the white sand shores and watched with fascination as the fishing boats with their towering rigs criss-crossed the horizon. So many wonderful moments.

Later, I sat horrified as I watched the news reports of an oil rig explosion that claimed eleven souls. How could such a thing happen? I thought these rigs were supposed to be technologically advanced and safe. That’s the claim made in the oil company’s commercials and by our politicians.

Weeks later, I sit in despair in front of my television, watching grown men, rugged sea-and-sun-scorched fishermen, weep about the destruction headed our way – with no end in sight.

None of us knows what will happen to our pristine beaches, fragile waterways, fish, shrimp, crawfish, alligators, birds, turtles, dolphins, or families. We know the price we’ve paid for this oil rig is too high already with eleven souls gone.

We have seen the loss of life. Now we are seeing the lost livelihoods of the families, empty bins at the seafood shop, the slipping economy of the area, the depressed mood of the citizens, and the murder of our protected wildlife.

When I walked the beach, I noticed a few other people walking slowly, almost reverently, observing the wildlife, the seashells washed ashore, the whiter-than-white sand squeaking beneath our feet, and the cool, clean water. The mood was subdued, quiet, watching the sun sink one more day over the emerald green waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe the last day we’ll ever see those emerald green waters.

The decades haven’t taught us anything. Clean, safe energy is achievable, but our greed has managed, once again, to overshadow everything else. Where are the safety checks, the regulations, the environmental studies that were supposed to have been done? Who gave the approval for a drilling operation that had none of these systems in place? When is the last time you walked or rode your bike instead of started your car? Where are all the alternative sources of energy? We’ve harvested the wind and the sun, so why aren’t we seeing wind and solar farms on the horizon instead of oil rigs?

Follow the money.

But, that’s enough of that.

I wanted to share a few pictures from my day at the beach – what a pristine beach looks like; what a Sandhill Crane looks like up close. Just in case these scenes disappear, I wanted to share them today.

So, it’s come to this, has it.  First, you start enjoying the AARP bulletins, then you buy a pill organizer… and love it.

Even though my pills consist mostly of (knock wood) vitamins and one allergy pill, I still like to be sure I take them every morning.

Well, the ritual became a bit tedious, and yes, I forgot sometimes, staring at the bottles, wondering, wondering, wondering… did I take my pills this morning or didn’t I?

So, I succumbed and bought myself a weekly pill dispenser.

Why the hesitation?  Memories and resistance.  My Dad had a pill organizer when he got older – key words:  “when he got older.”

Resistance is futile.  We will be assimilated.

Aging is inevitable, if we’re lucky.  Having a pill organizer is a reminder that we’re getting older and a bit forgetful.

But, missing your vitamins and medications is a bad thing.  So, I sit down and fill my little pill dispenser thingy every week.

Now each morning I pop open my dispenser, take my handful of vitamins and medicine, and check to see what day it is.

I’ve kind of grown to like this ritual.  Maybe in a few years I’ll graduate to the month-at-a-time pill organizers and take the calender off my kitchen wall.

p.s. If you like the idea of a monthly organizer, here’s one I found that would do the trick.

If you know me, or have been reading this blog for a while, you know that my Mom was a remarkable woman.  We lost her four years ago and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her terribly.  In our last conversation, my Mom told me that I was “a treasure.”  We didn’t know that would be the last time we’d talk.  Those words became my treasure.

I hope you’ll get to spend time today with the people you love, and that you’ll take the time to let them know that they are your treasure.

p.s.  This may be the perfect video for Mother’s Day.  I dare you not to get a bit teary eyed.  Thanks to Jeff Herring for this Sunday Morning Inspiration and thanks to all the Moms who have given their little ones a push – even when it was hard to do.

While sitting silently, enjoying the sound of the waves, a Sandhill Crane approached me, walking slowly, until it got within a few feet away.

While I watched, it took to the air in a wide sweeping motion that would make a Blue Angel pilot jealous – so close I could feel the breeze produced by the wings.

I turned to watch the emerald green waters lap the white sand shores and watched with fascination as the fishing boats with their towering rigs criss-crossed the horizon.  So many wonderful moments.

Later, I sat horrified as I watched the news reports of an oil rig explosion that claimed eleven souls.  How could such a thing happen?  I thought these rigs were supposed to be technologically advanced and safe. That’s the claim made in the oil company’s commercials and by our politicians.

Weeks later, I sit in despair in front of my television, watching grown men, rugged sea-and-sun-scorched fishermen, weep about the destruction headed our way – with no end in sight.

None of us knows what will happen to our pristine beaches, fragile waterways, fish, shrimp, crawfish, alligators, birds, turtles, dolphins, or families.  We know the price we’ve paid for this oil rig is too high already with eleven souls gone.

We have seen the loss of life. Now we are seeing the lost livelihoods of the families, empty bins at the seafood shop, the slipping economy of the area, the depressed mood of the citizens, and the murder of our protected wildlife.

When I walked the beach, I noticed a few other people walking slowly, almost reverently, observing the wildlife, the seashells washed ashore, the whiter-than-white sand squeaking beneath our feet, and the cool, clean water.  The mood was subdued, quiet, watching the sun sink one more day over the emerald green waters of the Gulf of Mexico.  Maybe the last day we’ll ever see those emerald green waters.

The decades haven’t taught us anything.  Clean, safe energy is achievable, but our greed has managed, once again, to overshadow everything else.  Where are the safety checks, the regulations, the environmental studies that were supposed to have been done?  Who gave the approval for a drilling operation that had none of these systems in place?  When is the last time you walked or rode your bike instead of started your car?  Where are all the alternative sources of energy?  We’ve harvested the wind and the sun, so why aren’t we seeing wind and solar farms on the horizon instead of oil rigs?

Follow the money.

But, that’s enough of that.

I wanted to share a few pictures from my day at the beach – what a pristine beach looks like; what a Sandhill Crane looks like up close.  Just in case these scenes disappear, I wanted to share them today.

Yes, it depends on your age.

The Baby Boomer generation is reportedly anyone born between the years 1946 to 1964.  If that’s true, then Holy Mackerel, our Dads and Moms were busy celebrating after WWII for a long, long time.  Can you really credit (or blame depending on your perspective) the population explosion on celebrating the end of WWII if folks were still “celebrating” into the 60′s?

But, I digress.  We of a certain generation tend to temper our speech patterns, etc., depending on if we’re talking to a person who remembers where they were when Kennedy was shot or not.    I can’t relate my feelings of sitting in front of the television “that day” to someone born in 1964.  So, the whole “born 1946 to 1964″ is arbitrary and produces a vastly different nostalgic process of thoughts and feelings.

Which brings me to this wonderful website called I Remember JFK.  I’ve been reading this top notch “remember when” website for some time now and I really enjoy the plethora of nostalgic tidbits Ron offers there.

You’ll find very detailed posts on everything from Bugles to Herb Albert (wait, aren’t those two topics related somehow?).  Ron gives your memory banks gentle nudges with some perhaps long forgotten muscle cars, vanished toys, and all sorts of memorabilia from times gone by.

But, which decade do you remember when you “remember when?”  I would guess that if you were born in 1946 your “I remember when…” sentence would end drastically different from a fellow Boomer’s “I remember when…” sentence if said fellow Boomer was born in 1964.

My hubby and I are 12 years apart in age.  Let’s just say our CD player has an interesting mix of music.  So, the 19 year spread between Baby Boomer #1 and Baby Boomer #2 must produce a whole stretch of nostalgia that speaks to one but not the other.

I guess because I talk to so many Boomers anxious to discuss “the good old days” that I’ve noticed this chasm in our meaning of  nostalgia.

Do you get nostalgic over 6.5 ounce bottles of Coke?  How about Poodle Skirts?  Pennies in your loafers?  Peddle Pushers?  Dippity Do?  Teaberry Gum?  Black Jack Gum?  Televisions as furniture?  Giant ashtrays?  Ed Sullivan?  The Beatles on Ed Sullivan?  Mini skirts?  Paisley prints?  Madras prints?  Knee socks and shorts?  Davey Crocket hats?  Pebbles?  Barbie’s Dream House?  Real cherry candy ornaments?  Herman’s Hermits?  The Monkeys?  Hip hugger bell bottoms?  Sock hops?

You see the problem?  Just in that one paragraph I’ve bounced around decades of nostalgia.  How is a Boomer to choose?

The answer is – we don’t.  Our memory banks are gathering nostalgia throughout our entire lives.  What I fondly recall from my childhood is not exclusive of the memories I cherish from my teen years, or beyond.

Give I Remember JFK a read and see how Ron gathers all those decades together, ruminates on just how we might have lost something during a few, and see if you can decide which decade was your favorite.

I, for one, can’t decide if one decade has it all over another.

I just watched a clip from “Saturday Night Fever” and still have to love it.  But, I also long for the days when we had three television stations and played outside all day and all night. I get all warm and fuzzy when I think about my embroidered hip-hugger bell-bottom jeans, but still cherish my little poodle skirt. My CD player has everything from The Fleetwoods to Jimi Hendrix to “Hotel California” by the Eagles.

That’s how it is with us Boomers.  We’ve lived long enough to have memories that span decades.

(FYI: if the advertisers shut down the ads, they won’t play. So, until that happens, enjoy!)

Betty White and Abe Vigoda for Snickers

Don Rickles as the Dead Flowers for Teleflora

Stevie Wonder et al for Volkswagen Slug Bug (that’s not a typo – we used to say “Slug Bug”)

Chevy Chase and Bevery D’Angelo for HomeAwayVacation

US Census a la Christopher Guest

Brett Favre – The legend goes on, and on, and on… for Hyundai

Sock Money et al – or weird toys we remember for Kia
Pretty fun. Hope you enjoyed those “remember when” moments as much as I did.

p.s. If you’re looking for the Clydesdale and Bull BFF video, sorry. It makes you jump through hoops to prove you’re over 21 to watch… yeah, I hear ya.