Author: vbgold

I am in this great Facebook private group called, Dusty Record Club. You post YouTube oldies and reminisce. I love it.. I go Dancin’ in the Streets with Billy Mack, who told me Don’t Mess with Bill ’cause if you do, you’ll learn That’s How Heartaches are Made. Yes, we bring ’em up and call ’em back. It’s so cool, relaxing, and fun until I hit an oldie like I’m the Last One to be Loved, by Dionne Warwick or You and I, by Stevie Wonder, and any slow Luther. Then, here they come…. first, the memories, then my eyes close in reflection, and finally, a tear rolls down my face. I admit that music can be mesmerizing, but lately, music or not, it seems I just can’t stop crying.  I used to be a baller; now I’m a bawler!

I am blessed to have really wonderful Sistah-friends who have been with me through every transition – births, deaths, and now, life-renewal. (Here I go, crying just thinking about them). If we are watching a film, I’m bawling; talking about a friend in need, I’m bawling. Don’t let me start talking about a loved one who has passed. I do, what Oprah calls, “the ugly cry,” If you feel a life circumstance requires emotion, you can’t seem to muster up, just call old Victoria Falls here; I’ll be your surrogate. Sometimes I think I’m gon’ Drown in My Own Tears. (Thanks, Ray Charles).

I do admit some things are worth crying over. I went to see Just Mercy, a film about the “justice and redemption” in the Alabama criminal justice system. It highlighted the attorney, Bryan Stevenson, who worked to free a man who was falsely imprisoned. When the film was done, I cried. But then I was overwhelmed with the enormity of the crisis in the criminal justice system and I started gulping and crying deeply for all the Black folks maliciously still behind bars; then for the victims honored in Stevenson’s Criminal Justice Museum and Lynching Memorial. When they flashed a picture of his Equal Justice Initiative team, I cried some more for the exoneration of over 135 prisoners and the possibility of hope. Today, that’s how my tears flow and I must say, unapologetically.

The truth is that as we age, our hormones go wacky, and we tend to cry more. Let’s face it; we have more to cry about, especially the pain of losing people we know/love. Two other truths – 1)As an emotional release, crying is good for us, and 2) As we age, we care less about what others think about us. You know me…striving to live in truth. So I’m gon’ continue to Cry, Baby. (Thanks Garnett Mims).

Joy Juice

So many of my days savor in joie de vivre’ for which I give thanks. (I forgot to mention that sometimes I laugh so hard, I cry). However, we never have to apologize for the ability to express emotion; it is a gift.

“Love has the final word.” Ricki Byars

© 2014-20 Camp Goldston LLC – All Rights Reserved

I was poised to do a long rant about how I suffer from CRS, Can’t Remember S_ _ _.  My friends and I try to get through a conversation without grasping to remember the names of people, places, and things.  I began to worry that it was just me, but I realized we all have the same forgetfulness syndrome called “getting older.”  Our songs:  “Where did I put…,” “What day did I tell you…”  “Oh, Lort!  Here comes somebody I should know and I cannot remember his name…Don’t be mad if I don’t introduce you to him.” I must have at least 4 items of clothing and one pair of earrings I really miss that have disappeared into the cosmos.  My memory will not let me retrieve them.  Well, I think they really did disappear, or my grandsons did away with them. (It’s nice to have grandsons to blame).

As I was preparing to blog, I saw a 60 Minutes segment on Front Temporal Dementia, FTD. I had to ‘stop, drop, and roll’ into compassion for those who are in the midst of this early form of dementia that disables the life of every family member. (Of course, I also Googled to make sure I didn’t have the symptoms that described FTD.)  You know we need to stay away from medical Googling.

This form of dementia is caused by degeneration of the frontal and/or temporal lobes of the brain and generally affects people below 60.  However, that female minister profiled on 60 Minutes was as Senior as me, and like her, I’m a minister ! For more insight on FTD, here’s the link for the youtube 60 Minutes episode,  but I just wanted us all to be aware of the nuances of any condition that could diminish our cognitive or physical skills. I know there are many of us that are caring for loved ones with impaired abilities. My compassion also extends to you.

I did not intend to get serious, but we ain’t got time for no mess. So when your friends or family say, “Girl, you need to see a doctor.” Go. When you feel something ain’t right, trust your instincts; dig until you find out what is happening. Oh, and check on your elderly girlfriends and neighbors.  Who hears me?  Can I get an Amen?

I used to throw away those AARP periodicals, but now I browse them for information regarding health and well-being.  No shame in my game; I want to be here in a healthy way, and I want you right here with me.  We may drop names forgotten, but we pick each other up, no joke.

Joy Juice

While wading through any illness, we stay within the knowing that darkness cannot diminish the light. It is always present. We see it in expected and unexpected ways. We remember to give thanks for each breath, and we also affirm our divine health by doing what keeps us that way.

“Love has the final word.”-Ricki Byars

© 2020 Camp Goldston LLC – All Rights Reserved

Photo by Jason Wong on Unsplash

This Ole Lady

‘Not really that old. Oh no, I am!! I’m 70 + and old enough to experience what most of us have in common about everyday living. I have 3 children, a daughter, son, and son-in-love. I also have two grandsons and one granddaughter. I am a widow of 13+ years who now has a “friend”…”boyfriend”…”guy.”..”a man?” (See? What do you call a guy you are now seeing at age 70+?) I’m sure. we’ll hear more about Mr. K .

I have worked in Sales, as an Administrator in our car business, in ministry as a Pastor, and now as an Inspirational Speaker, publisher/founder/writer for Garden Spices Magazine, an author, and a blogger. I drive several groups on Facebook and I advocate for social and racial justice, and artistic appreciation, doing what I can do. This blog is something I need. Why?

• I cry on a dime.
• I can be hazardous!
• I’m tired!
• I’m looking for “fresh” everywhere (skin, clothes, adventures)
• My family drives me bonkers.
• Voicemail
• DEVICES!!!
• etc., etc., etc.

Don’t get it twisted, I know I’m fabulous, but a Sista’ gotta fuss every now and then. There is a wonderful movement called #BLACKGIRLMAGIC. We still have our own kind of magic, it’s just a bit seasoned. – Spicy. I hope to laugh at me, us, and the younguns that will soon become “us.” Of course, I have to sprinkle some of what I call Joy Juice to simmer it down, and “love” always has the final word.

I hope you will SUBSCRIBE, FOLLOW ME, COMMENT, hold up a mirror, and laugh. We deserve it!

© 2020 Camp Goldston LLC – All Rights Reserved

.

Victorine

Photo by Fey Marin on Unsplash

Long, short, kinky, curly, straight, thin, full, weaved, wigged, colored, natural – hair DON’T CARE! I have seen beautiful sisters with what your mama called their “crown and glory” represented many ways, even with bald beauty. We got it like that! I’m not gon’ fuss about the hair on my head. I have been blessed to have retained most of it. What I’m gon’ fuss about is the hair that grows on my chin.

Why is that I have to shave daily? I have gone through menstruation, childbirth and the menopause sweats from hell, (I still, have them.) So, my reward as a seasoned sister is to look in the mirror and see hair growing on my chin?! What?!!

At first sighting, no problem. They had this thing that was like a file that you rub on your chin and the hair disappeared. Then upon closer examination, I noticed the hair had not disappeared, it was only lying down. What, what?! 

Next, came exfoliating.  It smelled like relaxer.  No could use.  Then came tweezing, which worked until I passed 60 and started looking like Big Foot.  Then, the big guns had to be applied.  I started shaving.  Oh, I have some cute products I use from “As Seen on TV.”  They work fine until I look closely in the mirror and I see this:  Look closely now.  See those little specks of hair?  They should be visible…

… BECAUSE THEY ARE NOW WHITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They will not survive!!!

Joy Juice

No matter what our age, hair is prominent to our appearance, but not our beauty. Hair will never define our true essence. Our beauty emanates from within us and is reflected through our every action – our walk, our talk, our smile, our compassion – and we give ourselves to the universe with this embrace. So…chin up!!

“Love has the final word.” -Rickie Byars Beckwith

This post was inspired by Charlene Carter, who exclaimed, “Why didn’t y’all tell me about chin hair?”  And Lois Crabtree, who reminded me, “Don’t forget about the hair turning white.”

Photo by:  Photo by Brett Sayles from Pexels

I know your memory is short (NEXT POST), but please remember to Like, Reply, and Subscribe.  Thanks so much

Love you,

Victorine