For the most part, I gave up judging people about the same time I gave up perfectionism. When I finally got old enough—actually wise enough—to realize I’m not perfect, nor do I need to be; I also relinquished that expectation of others. With the freedom of being released from the shackles of trying to do right, be right, look right and act right all the time, I learned judging others, just like judging yourself, is usually premature and always unloving. In addition, it is binding to persons on both sides of the bench.

“Women’s friendships are like a
renewable source of power.”
—Jane Fonda

I was handed two lucky lots in life: 1. I am Southern; and 2. I am a woman. I haven’t always thought these two things were great. When I was young, people outside of the South (a.k.a. non-Southerners) viewed Southerners as slow, dumb, countrified—even if you didn’t live in the country. And, on the woman front, I was in the generation where women were supposed to lag behind, though opportunities were getting better. I remember thinking how lucky boys were. They got to play poker, and spend Saturdays hunting, fishing or boating with their buddies. They over drank, laughed and misbehaved all while the women cooked, cleaned and planted flowers. Honestly, playing poker was much more my style than tossing a salad.

Here’s a conundrum: We have a teacher shortage, and it’s only getting worse. Not only are college graduates choosing education as their major in record low numbers, but college graduates who majored in education are also leaving the teaching profession in droves within the first three years of teaching.
What does the world’s most powerful country do when none of its adults want to teach our youth?

In speaking with a member of the Board of Trustees for the University of South Carolina, I learned only 149 students graduated with an education/teaching degree this past May. This amount of new teachers barely covers the needs of one or two school districts.

“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.”
—Robert Browning—

I believe the majority of the greatest lessons we learn in life come from our mothers. Not all of us have the fortune of a good mother’s wisdom, but most of us have experienced wonderful lessons from strong motherly figures somewhere along the way.

For years, I have written about how our parents teach us how we want to be and how we don’t want to be. I stand by this and firmly believe both are equally important lessons. Of course my mother had some ways and traits that taught me how I did not want to be, but her positive lessons far outweigh those.

My mother is 92 years old, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.
She is a rock star.
Unfortunately, I am one of the few who thinks so.

Having an elderly mom has brought to my attention how much the elderly are discarded and disrespected by society, people, and especially young people. I realize some—maybe most—92-year-olds have declined cognitively and physically, but my mom is still sharp. However, most people treat her like she has no idea where or who she is. When I take her to the doctor, they ask me the questions. I tell them to ask her, she’s right here. But there is another problem, she will describe her ailment or pain and they don’t believe her. I’m not saying they don’t check it out and send her for the proper tests, they just make her feel like she isn’t in touch with her own body.