Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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Elaine Ambrose

Why You Should be a Swinger

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mirabel swing

Do you want to do something easy and fun that will make you weightless? Do you want to feel the breeze in your hair as you float through the air while laughing out loud? Go swing. You can do it alone or with a group of people of all ages. And, it’s legal!

The feeling of being weightless for even a second ranks right up there with the euphoric sensation of speeding down an open coastal highway in a convertible with Tina Turner singing in the passenger seat. Most of us don’t have the road, the car, or a connection with Turner, but we can scamper over to the city park and grab a swing. Now it’s cool to be a swinger, and you don’t need instructions, batteries, or a note from your doctor. If you’re still unsure, it’s handy to have a child along for encouragement.

Many health clubs advocate the many advantages of swinging. Not wanting to be left alone in the sandbox, scientific researchers are pumping out studies that extol the mental health benefits of getting a natural high. Here are some of the sophisticated findings from professionals and preschoolers.

1. Swinging combines the exciting combination of freedom while you retain control of how fast or high you want to go on a suspended pendulum.

2. For every hour you swing, you can burn 200 calories. Go play and then you can justify having a glass of wine!

3. Swinging is good for your physical health. It can condition joints, muscles, tendons, and ligaments. The activity is good for pelvic muscles and helps with balance.

4. Swinging is good for your mental health. You rarely see grumpy people on a swing set. Usually swingers of all ages are laughing out loud as they swing through the fresh outside air.

5. Swinging is used in Sensory Integration Therapy for people with special needs. A leading study on child development, logically titled “The Developmental Benefits of Playgrounds,” concluded that the rhythm of swinging can soothe and relax a child with developmental issues such as Autism. The simple swaying motions can provide a crucial foundation for later, more complex learning and behavior. Swinging also safely integrates a special needs child into a group of children without disabilities because they can all swing without competition or fear of failure. And, they all laugh with the same gusto.

6. Finally, swinging is a great activity for grandparents and their grandchildren. According to a certain 5-year-old expert in swinging, I am eligible and invited to swing and laugh with her on a regular basis. Another advantage is that the activity is user-friendly because there are no scattered toys to pick up and put away.

The next time you’re having a stressful day, go to a nearby park, find a swing set, and turn your iPod and headphones to Tina Turner singing “Proud Mary.” You don’t need any customized athletic wear or a personal trainer. Just sit, pump, and soar. The feeling is better and cheaper than therapy. Admit it. You’ve always wanted to be a swinger.

Compassion for the Old Souls

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1000 voices compassion

More than 1,000 bloggers from across the world are writing today with the intended goal to share and encourage compassion. The world is hungry, almost desperate, for this united effort. My contribution is to promote compassion for the old souls among us.

Compassion for the Old Souls

leona wheelchair

My mother was dying. Her breathing had changed over the past few days; irregular, pausing only to alarm us, then continued with a raspy rattle. My daughter and I sat beside her bed and held her hand, limp and translucent, as Tennessee Ernie Ford sang about peace in the valley. Gentle Hospice workers came silently during her last week to shift her body and dab a damp sponge on her lips. Though they didn’t know her, they treated her with the dignity and grace she deserved.

Outside her room at the assisted living facility, other residents shuffled by, some with walkers, as silent sentinels in the last act of the drama of life. After 87 years, my mother’s body and mind were gone, except for her strong heart. We could do nothing but wait.

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According to the National Center for Assisted Living, more than one million senior citizens live in assisted living facilities in the United States. There are horrible reports of abuse and mismanagement, but most of the staff members are loving and responsible caregivers. I met many wonderful people who worked at Mom’s various homes and rehabilitation centers. They did the jobs others don’t want to do: showered old people, changed adult diapers, fed the feeble ones. They became the family when the real family stopped visiting. Most of the facilities had regular activities and the residents enjoyed group outings, visits from entertainers, and craft projects. But many of them live their last years in quiet and lonely resignation.

“Our society must make it right and possible for old people not to fear the young or be deserted by them, for the test of a civilization is the way that it cares for its helpless members.”
— Pearl S. Buck

It’s often easier to show compassion and charity to worthy causes that include children, pets, and natural disasters. It’s not as appealing to help the elderly people, but they are the old souls, the ones who worked to build our country, fought in World War II, and faced a steep learning curve as technology during their lifetimes introduced airplane flight, Interstate highways, television, computers, and cell phones. In simpler times, they danced to jazz, Sinatra, and Glenn Miller. Now they leave the light on in hopes their adult children will visit.

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“If you associate enough with older people who do enjoy their lives, who are not stored away in any golden ghettos, you will gain a sense of continuity and of the possibility for a full life.”
— Margaret Mead

During my mother’s last years, before she slipped into Dementia, her once-busy calendar was reduced to simple entries: shower on Tuesday and Friday, hair appointment on Thursday, and church on Sunday. I watched the spark grow dim in her eyes, and I wept for the proud woman who once worked in the fields, held several jobs as she raised her children, and dutifully supported my father’s ambitious businesses. When she no longer remembered my name, I pasted name tags on the family pictures that lined her tiny room. “Don’t forget us,” I whispered. But, it was too late.

Society needs to honor our elderly citizens. There are several ways to show genuine compassion to them:

  1. Visit area assisted living facilities and spend time with the residents. Most of them have fascinating stories they are never heard. It’s okay if they repeat the same story several times.
  2. Informally adopt a grandparent for your family, and include him or her in your activities. Include older neighbors who need help mowing the lawn, shoveling snow, or fixing minor repairs.
  3. Volunteer to take them to doctor’s appointments, church, parades, lunch, and shopping. Many of them spend months inside without ever going beyond the facility.
  4. Offer to write letters for them or assist them call a friend or relative. My mother stopped answering her telephone when she couldn’t push the correct buttons. A month before she died, I held the phone so she could talk with her sister who lived across the country.
  5. Offer to teach a class at an assisted living facility, play the piano, record oral histories, sit with them, and go through their scrapbooks.
  6. In public, help the elderly by opening doors, giving your seat or place in line, paying for their lunch. Make eye contact and smile.
  7. Donate to worthy charities that support the aging. Become involved in groups that include work with and for patients with Alzheimer’s and dementia.
  8. Encourage your family to participate in your work with older people. Children are often hesitant to reach out to older people, but the old souls crave a child’s touch.

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“There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.”
— Sophia Loren

My mother passed away on a cool but clear November morning. My children, her legacy, delivered her eulogy. I’m still going through all the articles she left behind, including several well-worn Bibles. Many passages were underlined in ink, and she had placed smiley-face stickers on her favorite verses. Even in death, she made me smile.

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“As we grow old…the beauty steals inward.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 

My Troll Hates my Pubic Writings

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A blog has the power to amuse, enlighten, or irritate anyone with access to the Internet and a toddler’s ability to communicate. Bloggers take risks and push the publish button anyway. I’ve had my share of trolls, and I usually delete their messages and chose instead to bask in the occasional complimentary notes. But, now I have a troll who continues to taunt me to publish his messages “if you have the backbone to publish my comment.” And, he says he doesn’t like my pubic writings.

As far as I know, I’ve never blogged about anything pubic. I often write about drinking wine, chasing Studley around the house, and farting in public, but I’ve never mentioned anything about my southern regions. At my age, that’s a wise decision.

So, my troll’s name is Warren, and he began sending messages last week after I posted a blog about convicted sex offenders. My target audience is middle-age women and I wrote the blog for those of us who are grandmothers. Warren doesn’t fit the demographic. His first comment was 275 words, half as long as my blog, and he told me I wasn’t informed about my subject, even though I had researched and cited official sources. I chose not to publish his comment on my website. (After all, Warren, it is my website. Write your own if you want.)

But, Warren was greatly irritated that I ignored him. He sent another message accusing me of running and hiding from the truth included in his original comment. And he said I was shameful. By now, Warren was beginning to irritate me.

A third email arrived with such a glaring error that nasty, ole’ Warren made me laugh out loud. “Censuring differing views (including mine) on your pubic writings…is not very becoming.” (As God is my witness, Warren, I will never expose my pubic writings to you. I agree with you. It would not be very becoming.)

Warren remained mad at me for not publishing his comments on my website. He sent me five messages in two days and the last one was complete with accusations. “You are a liar. You just keep running from the facts and the truth. You are no better than the rest of the media. Fear sells, right? Nice try.”

I don’t know whether to be bored or worried. Warren obviously has issues, and he doesn’t like me at all. I usually wouldn’t care, but he has information about me and where I live. I also wonder why he’s so adamant about the legal registry of convicted sex offenders. (Sorry, Warren. I don’t like convicted sex offenders, and I don’t want to live next to them. If you are on that registry, get professional help, and leave me alone.) I think I’ll return to writing humor. Trolls on my funny blogs are usually silly drunks.

The Joys of Traveling with Your Children (after age 30)

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If given the choice between traveling with small children and having a root canal, I’d be at the dentist office sucking laughing gas before noon. I adore kids but the logistics of getting them more than 100 miles is too much to endure unless they can be shipped like golf clubs or crated like pets.

After my baby filled his diapers with an adult-strength load during takeoff on a three-hour flight, I finally realized there was no reason to ever travel with youngsters. At least not in the same airplane.

Children under five years old don’t know what a vacation is, so tell them that the city park is just like Disneyland except without grinning pirates shooting guns, drinking booze, and chasing women on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Better yet, turn on the sprinklers in the backyard, sit down with a glass of wine, and watch the little darlings giggle and wiggle until they’re tired enough for a nap. Then invite your hubby to swill some whiskey and chase you around the yard. Yo ho ho! Everyone will be happy and you’ll save thousands of dollars. This is a win-win situation.

Traveling with little children requires parents to lie in order to survive the ordeal. Here are a few of my desperate but necessary distortions of the truth I coughed up while attempting to orchestrate the illusive perfect family vacation when my kids were under ten years old.

Driving in rush-hour traffic near Disneyland.

“Of course, it’s okay to pee into a potato chip can, Honey, because it’s against the law to get off the freeways in Los Angeles.”

Trapped at the airport during another flight delay.

“Please stop whining and you can have a new puppy/pony/playhouse if we get home before you’re in high school.”

After four hours of driving through a desolate desert.

“Stop hitting your brother/sister or I will park this car right now and we’ll live off the land and eat scorpions until you can learn to behave.”

After two hours of “Are we there yet?” and “How much longer?”

“Sorry, kids. Mommy is going away for a while.” Then I would pull over, stop, and play dead. Worked every time.

I still mutter like a curmudgeon when I see young parents in airports juggling a small mountain of luggage that includes diapers, food, enormous strollers, DVD players, toys, and clothes that could stock a child care center. My ancestors walked for months to Idaho along the Oregon Trail, and their kids and clothes were bathed once a week in the river, air-dried on a log, and stored in the wagon for the day’s journey. They survived just fine.

Imagine if any pioneer child had complained:

“Pa, the wagon’s too bumpy!”

“Hush, Child, and go trap a rabbit, skin it, and help your Ma make dinner. We’re walking ten miles tomorrow.”

The first time I saw the movie The Sound of Music I yelled “Fraud!” at the end as the family climbed over the Alps singing in perfect harmony in clean clothes. When my kids were little, we couldn’t walk from the house to the car without someone falling headfirst into a mud puddle. And forget about taking a hike together. Any incline more than two inches would cause howls of dismay with repeated pleas to be carried. And that’s when they were teenagers! But, in deference to the movie, if evil Nazis were chasing us, we would manage to escape together, with or without matching lederhosen.

cabo family

One splendid advantage of getting older is that family trips are easier and less hectic. My kids are in their thirties and have their own children to handle, so I just need to pack yoga pants, t-shirts, and a wine opener. We recently traveled with 11 family members on a week-long vacation. I was overjoyed to play with the grandkids and sing songs and tell stories. Then came Happy Hour and their parents could take over. As they walked away with the boisterous brood, I overheard one of my adult children say, “Stop hitting your sister or we’ll go live in the desert and eat scorpions until you learn to behave.” My work here is done.

 

 

Forget Kinky – Bring me Coffee and Kisses

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older couple beach

The National Retail Federation predicts that $18.6 billion will be spent this year on Valentine’s Day gifts that include jewelry, flowers, candy, and greeting cards. However, many middle-aged couples ignore the hype and prefer a nice dinner with fine wine, a slow dance on the patio, and a tender look that says:

“I will love you forever. Have you seen my dental floss?”

The Valentine’s Day edition of a popular women’s magazine recently offered some provocative advice about how to drive a man crazy by using naughty tricks that involved handcuffs and blindfolds. At midlife, most of us don’t have time or money to waste so we’d rather dim the lights, turn on some Luther Vandross, and holler “Come and get it!” before it’s time for the evening news and some salve on our aching backs.

The passing years have provided us the wisdom to know that if we donned a skimpy outfit smaller than a hanky and then wore a blindfold we would trip over our wobbly stilettos and smack our head on the nightstand. And if we lit 50 candles and then agreed to handcuffs we’d knock over the candles, start the house on fire, and not be able to find the key to the cuffs. Our friendly firemen would be greatly amused and publish our hapless photographs in a local magazine.

Most middle-aged women are strong advocates for romance but we want and need it more than once a year. We prefer daily acts of devotion that can build a lasting love affair. My sweetheart makes my coffee every morning and brings me the newspaper. (Yes, a morning newspaper proves just how old we are.) He laughs at my jokes even though he’s heard them before and they’re really not that funny. And, he kisses me every night and morning. We touch in our sleep, and that is the essence of pure love.

True romance often requires a sense of humor.

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I don’t mind trying new amorous adventures, but they often come with humorous and unromantic results. The kitchen table was way too hard, the secluded outside picnic came with ants and stickers, and the tight corset took 30 minutes to remove. Once I arranged for a limousine stocked with Scotch and hot wings to pick up my hubby from the airport, but the limo was late and he stood outside in the freezing cold for twenty minutes. Another time I applied some sensuous massage oil but ended up spilling the entire bottle and ruining our best sheets. It took him two hot showers to degrease.

But, I’m not giving up on passion because it’s just too much fun.

Millions of people over 50 enjoy loving relationships, and they now comprise the biggest group in online dating. According to the Mayo Foundation for Medical Education and Research, sexual health is important at any age, and doctors agree that older couples who enjoy sexual intimacy can lower their blood pressure, reduce the risks of heart attacks, and look years younger. According to my close female friends, a festive romp in the hay is a grand way to end the day, and there is no medical study required for that astute observation.

As millions of American women grow closer to age 60, we no longer relate to the role models of yesterday. We reject the weathered images of the late Irene Ryan who was only 63 when she played the role of Granny Clampett in the television series Beverly Hillbillies and prefer the strong image of 65-year-old movie star Meryl Streep. We love the feisty spirits of sexy senior citizens Betty White and Tina Turner. Television legend Joan Collins is 81 years young. At a recent pre-Grammy party in Beverly Hills she said that sex was better than Botox for slowing the aging process. In response, many of the glamorous guests weren’t able to raise their eyebrows with surprise.

This year, forget the potions, purchases, and promises for the perfect Valentine’s Day. Be grateful for daily gestures of love and let him know in advance that you’d rather have a nice bottle of wine and a back rub than a 4-foot Vermont teddy bear. Really. Those things are scary.

 

 

Don’t Match Your Socks with Your Shirt

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I love socks. I grew up in Idaho where the winters require boots and a collection of thick, colorful socks, enough to fill an entire dresser drawer. Also, my pitiful feet resemble hooves fringed with bald sausages, and they practically scream to be covered. I wore socks during childbirth because my feet were uglier than all the mess associated with labor and delivery.

While disheveled and haphazard in every other part of my life, I am fastidious about my sock organization. There are categories for work, play, sports, holidays, and whimsy. It’s a sad day, indeed, when a hole appears in the heel or toe of a favorite sock. As a teenager, I knew how to drop a light bulb into the worn sock and sew the offensive gap with a needle and thread. I don’t do that anymore.

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I’ve also outgrown my corporate fashion sense that ordered me to match my socks with my shirt. I have a favorite photograph that shows my children and me at the Epcot Center at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. The vacation seems like only a few days ago, but it’s been two decades. At the time, I was a manager at Boise Cascade Corporation and wore coordinated suits at work so felt that my socks must match my shirt during leisure times. In the photo, I’m wearing white shoes and shorts with red socks and shirt. I don’t do that anymore, either.

Here are some distinct reasons why you should increase your sock collection:

  1. They fit. You don’t need to worry about trying on various sizes because there are basically two choices: medium fits shoe size 6 through 10, and large fits size 10 and above.
  2. They are inexpensive. Sure, you can spend $25 for a good pair for skiing, but balance that with $2 for a 2-pack for everyday wear. It’s less painful to throw away cheap socks when they are tattered and threadbare.
  3. They complement your mood. If I’m in sophisticated fashion boots with a classic winter outfit, I often wear outrageous, unmatched socks to soothe the inner rebel.
  4. Others know what gift you’ll like. My daughter always gives me socks as a present because she knows I’ll love and wear them. It’s personal and fun but not demanding.
  5. They bring comfort. On those rare occasions when you get to lounge around with a good book and a plate of cookies, toss the shoes and stay cozy in a favorite pair.

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Here’s one more recommendation about socks: Remember that a colorful life demands more than wearing boring attire. Limit your use of white socks, and tiptoe out of your comfort zone into some snazzy, bold patterns. Search on line at websites such as www.boldsocks.com or www.joyofsocks.com. You and your feet will be happy.