The Value of Play

As someone who relishes the joy of lighting sparklers year-round, I’m always looking for opportunities to boost my inventory. Imagine my delight when I discovered a terrific sale at my neighborhood grocery store. Amazed by my good fortune, I went straight to the checkout line, dismissing the original shopping list.

“You know, you can burn your eyes with those things.”

Excuse me? 

“You know, if you don’t dispose of those properly, when left behind, the burned sticks can hurt people, even pets.”

Don’t we love unsolicited advice in the grocery store line? With every word, she moved closer, dismissing those social distancing lessons learned during the pandemic. Fairly quickly, I took somewhat of a defensive posture, clutching the boxes to my chest. As I told Lynn, “This lady was trying to take away my sparklers, take away my fun.” Of course she shared my outrage! 

And with that introduction, Lynn and I began to explore the value of play in our lives during episode three of our podcast. 

I explained to Lynn that having sparklers on hand gave me a reason to slow down and break with the routine. “As I move them around, making shapes, I marvel at their light.”  At the end of a long day, this brief, playful moment lifts my spirit and lightens my load.

Why year-round? This habit has developed more recently after living in a small downtown apartment in Indianapolis. Bubbles and sparklers transformed a rectangular concrete slab into a place of lighthearted wonder.

Lynn knows that my quest for fun has been an intentional decision. I grew up in a home that was not fun. I don’t mean the laugh-a-moment fun, but more of an environment where play and discovery were encouraged. I’ve had to cultivate that aspect of my life. 

Lynn grew up on a classic midwestern farm that produces bountiful corn and bean harvests. I’ve seen it myself and it’s lovely. But as a kid, she confesses, “I found it kinda boring.” 

“We had to make our own fun. It might have meant attaching playing cards to the spokes on our bicycles.”

That lesson of finding-stuff-and-figuring-out-a-creative-purpose-for-it continues to inspire her today. “I can look at a brown paper bag and consider cutting out snowflakes that I can hang in my windows.” Also lovely. She has a keen eye. 

Lynn reminds me that sometimes you don’t even need stuff. Joy can be found by simply going outdoors, and when you live in the northern weather region, seasonal allowances can be made. “We take cold weather hikes, which aren’t as long as those in the summertime, but it’s enough to get out in the fresh air and enjoy the crisp, white beauty of a snowfall,” said Lynn. Their beloved dog Poppy takes delight in romping in the snow which in turn delights her owners!

Our conversation found its way to yet another benefit of play. Planned with intention, organized games can bring people together, as I’ve witnessed over countless Thanksgiving gatherings where my husband and I are charged with bringing the fun. When you have an inner generational group as large as 30, we’ve learned that games allow people who have nothing in common to work together, and in doing so, recognize qualities and skills that might be overlooked in classic conversations about weather, school, and vacation plans. One example is organizing teams for building floats  - using shoe boxes - to coincide with viewing the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.

A source of fun shared by the Peisker and Schneider families over the years was the  building of gingerbread houses. We were rookies when we first started, but didn’t know it. The collective Schneisker crew took great delight in first lining small milk cartons with graham crackers, later accessorizing with an assortment of candies. The next year, Lynn’s engineer husband got a hold of a serrated knife and started designing everything from delicate architectural features to adorable farm animals. (Picture pastoral sheep made from small marshmallows and pretzel sticks!) This madness grew up with our kids, spanning more than twenty years. What started as something to fill time became a beloved tradition that offers treasured memories. 

Another treasured friendship memory found its inspiration in Kitty Hawk, North Caroline. When we recorded this conversation for the podcast, we were beginning to reflect on the early days of the pandemic, when we were trying everything we had to moderate the seriousness of the isolation. It was during this window of time that I ordered a kite for Lynn and it was well received. 

“Man, flying kites is underrated. It’s a delightful way to lose track of your worries and cares,” encourages Lynn. “And to look up which is a positive thing. To notice color in the sky.”

A final word? Get out there and have some fun! And when you do fly a kite, “Be careful around the power lines. LIke your lady in the grocery store, we want to be safe.”

A POINT OF GRATITUDE

For nearly thirty years, we have shared the pursuit of finding JOY in the routine! We give thanks for being able to support each other’s endeavors (aka parties-of-all-kinds and other hair brained schemes), as well as invest in building traditions for our families, such as making gingerbread houses. While solo activities can be fun and nourishing, sharing a good time with others is a gift never to be taken for granted.

If you’re looking for a sign…

During a recent trip to Tucson, my husband spotted this word of wisdom on a side street between two businesses. While most activities benefit from a measured approach, finding meaningful ways to play for the sake of joy is often discounted or ignored.

If you would like to be more proactive in this aspect of your self care, don’t miss Lynn’s story about flying a kite!

REFLECTION QUESTIONS

What’s your reaction to Mary Poppins advice, ““In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and ‘snap’, the job’s a game.”

Do you recognize the role of play in your self-care?

What is a childlike activity that makes you smile? And can you do that in the next 10 days? Why or why not?

Using Terms of Endearment

One afternoon I started watching the Netflix series, “Maid,” and couldn’t stop. I established a routine of checking my phone for any time sensitive messages before hitting the ‘next episode’ button. With zero demands on the schedule, I committed to witnessing the majority of the 10 episode ordeal based on the true story of author Stephanie Land.

Andie MacDowell and Margaret Qualley - a real life mother/daughter duo beautifully recreate a family with roots in poverty, mental illness, and domestic violence. The first word I used to describe the series to Lynn was “rough.”

Margaret plays Alex, a young mother experiencing relentless, soul crushing circumstances yet possesses enough inner grit to want more for herself and her preschool age daughter.  Andie is Alex’s mother, an artist with a fragile, free spirit that floats between male distractions. The father figure for both mother and daughter is complicated. 

Early on in Alex’s self discovery journey, she makes the brave decision to enter a shelter for abused women where she is assured by an intake manager, “Baby Girl, we’re going to help you.” 

“Baby Girl.”

These two words opened the floodgates of tears within me before a conscious thought could register in my brain and assign words to the feelings. I was sobbing and a bit startled. What was it about this term of endearment that rocked my world? Lynn was gracious to welcome the topic to the Second Cup podcast for further exploration.

We both agreed that for the character these words likely conveyed a sense of being seen and known. Alex could finally fully exhale and breathe. These words, this term of endearment, gave her the comfort she so desperately needed.

And while the circumstances in this story did not align with my childhood, there were times when I was in need of reassuring words from a trusted adult. Aunt Vera was one such adult. Whenever she had something important to say, she’d begin with “Now, Nanny Jane.” This introduction became a familiar habit, signaling that I could relax in her presence, receive the instruction, and trust her intentions. Through our conversation on the podcast, I realized that the scene  encapsulated the blessing of being called Nanny Jane, of being known and loved. My tears fell from a place of gratitude.

In Lynn’s life, Grandma June was a much beloved person that used a term of endearment. “She called me Lynny and really no one else did.” As one of 18 grandchildren, Lynn said that her grandmother cheered on loved ones, often with nicknames.

These stories involving Aunt Vera and Grandma June illustrate the role that well spoken words can play in creating a life-giving legacy. Lynn and I agreed that we want to follow their example.

“Even today, if I hear an encouraging voice in my head, it’s hers.” added Lynn.

 We discussed other spaces in our daily walks where we can speak words that affirm and encourage another. We touched on the treatment of customer service workers. Lynn is looking for appropriate opportunities to make eye contact while extending the typical “thank you,” to include “you are really good at your job.” To date, the response has been positive. “And these are people I don’t know. How much more important is it to speak well to those we know and love,” Lynn added. 

I couldn’t agree more. 

POINTS OF GRATITUDE

Grandma June and Aunt Vera continue to be lights of inspiration in our lives. Lynn shares, “I want to provide that same level of cheer leading, enthusiasm and support for people I love.” 

Lynn’s story about pairing eye contact with words is a good one! Practical, too. I later reflected on instances when I’ve been passive about other expressions of body language. Here’s to grace, lessons learned, and a new day!

THE PODCAST EFFECT

After Lynn and I explore a topic, I tend to see reflections of our conversation throughout my day: familiar words, related images, and even comments from others that are aligned with, or sharpen, our perspectives.

Not too long after we recorded the “Terms of Endearment” episode, I received these two cards with my Chick-Fil-A order. One was blank for me to use, suggesting that I follow their example. Reminded me of this nugget …

“Kindness is free. Sprinkle that stuff everywhere.”

REFLECTION QUESTIONS

Is there a term of endearment or favorite nickname that is meaningful to you? If so, have you considered why it matters to you? 

Are you a giver of compliments?

Can you identify one person in your community that would benefit from your affirming words (spoken or written) in the next week?

Connecting to Community

For the past year or so, I’ve been volunteering at St. Margaret’s House in South Bend, Indiana. They're doing really good work, taking care of the women in our community, inviting them in for meals and clothing and other supplies they need.  My time there got me thinking about what an important step that's been for me in terms of transitions. I've been here in this community for a while, and to be honest, it was a tough transition.  I decided volunteering would be just another step in getting to know some people and connecting with my community. So I've been going there on Wednesdays or Thursdays. I work in the basement and I sort donations. I get to meet the guests and connect with some of the other volunteers and people who work there.  It’s not always easy. Sometimes it’s downright awkward.  But going there weekly grounds me to my community.  

When Nancy heard me talk about this, she recognized something: what has been a really hard season of growing new roots in this community is finally clicking.  There’s a definite connection.  A slow connection to a new community, that’s not really new anymore. 

Why St. Margaret’s House?  What do I look for in an organization where I want to give my time?  I like that they are really committed to their mission. They're so clear about welcoming people and I love that. North of sixty, when we go out and look for volunteer opportunities, we're at an age where our time is limited. We have a lot of things going on professionally and personally. And so it's important to find an organization that's really clear about the mission.  I also like that because they serve women in my community. It's connecting me in that way. I like that my services there are not random and it's not remote. As a result of the pandemic, lots of what we are doing or have been doing is remote or virtual. And so when I started there,  for me to mask up, go down into that basement, sort through the donations, it just helps me feel like a part of something.

People can be transactional about their volunteering rather than choosing a relational experience.  In the years I've lived here, I’ve been saying yes to all sorts of opportunities, some have clicked and some have not. Nancy asked me what it is that I’ve learned about myself when making connections that ignite and seem meaningful.

I love that question - Nancy asks the best questions - because yes, the first year we lived here, I said yes to everything. Oh my goodness. The stories I could tell you. I think this resonates because I realized what my limitations are. So I set a time frame. I put boundaries on it. I don't say yes to everything they ask volunteers to do, but I do what works for me and I also have reframed it. I think reframing is one of the great tools we have as women. I've reframed it as a connection to my community and not just the act of putting clothes on hangers.

And of course. Nancy being the BFF that she is loves that reframing. And she pointed to the nugget of wisdom there - take the time you need to get to the point of being able to reframe and draw the boundaries that work for you around the connection to the community.  Sometimes in transition, we want to hurry.  We are trying to get to that sense of being rooted again, a sense of being known and belonging. This story is meant to encourage you to let time be time.  Nothing is wasted in this process of exploring your connection to the community.  Every place I’ve gone, every place I’ve connected, all of the “yes” answers along the way, none of it’s been wasted.  I’ve learned from all of it.  

If you are looking for a quick transition to a new community, a new family, a new friend group, or a new job, sometimes that's just not possible. And we have to be able and willing to give ourselves the gift of time to make that transition, to make that integration into that arena, especially if it's something that's existed for a long time. And I think it's especially true for women our age. We're no longer going to sporting events for our children where we make natural connections. We are no longer involved in parent-teacher associations at our kids' schools. We may or may not be connected to places of worship or clubs and associations that we did when we were in our thirties, forties, or fifties. So I think it's really important to be patient with ourselves and to give ourselves time for that process to take place. We end up needing to be much more proactive at this stage of life north of 60.

So it's a paradigm shift. And to get our heads around that, to get our hearts around that, it could take several years.  I hesitate to say that because it might feel discouraging.  But everyone adapts at their own pace.  I didn't retreat. I may have slowed the number of engagements from time to time, taken a break from saying “yes,” but I never stopped looking and, and searching. Not to say there wasn’t an occasional Thursday afternoon when I curled up into a ball on the sofa and stopped temporarily. And we can give ourselves permission to do that!

POINTS OF GRATITUDE

I just want to be sure to mention my points of gratitude for this experience, because I do think gratitude really transforms our thinking. It transforms our experience. At Second Cup, we always talk about gratitude for this reason!

I’m grateful for the mission of this organization, how tied in they are.  And I’m also really grateful for the gift of time. And I think as we age, time becomes more and more precious and we're more and more conscious of how quickly it moves. And I'm just really grateful for the time I've had it to integrate into this community.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS

How have you navigated a transition in your life, especially a post-middle-age move?

How do you choose to connect to the community?

For what do you find yourself grateful this week?

Now for a couple of book recommendations, both non-fiction this time:

Nancy:   The Good Funeral by Thomas Long and Thomas Lynch. 

Don’t be put off by the title.  Both men are brilliant writers and fascinating people.  They understand the power of words. Both writers are persuaded that the rituals and practices around death are a window into the soul of a culture. It’s very much a story about life and death and, treating both with the utmost respect and again, beautifully written from places of great meaning and expertise and much to think about. 

Lynn:  Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe. 

A terrific storyteller, Keefe brings to life the gripping story of the Troubles in Northern Ireland during the 1970s, in particular through the story of one widowed mother of ten, and her tragic story, really brings the reality of this violent conflict home.