Cathy Bowman,  May 2, 2008

In our noisy world, is anyone listening? You have to wonder. Americans say their marriages are suffering because their spouses can't hear properly. Hearing problems are hard on children, too. When my 80-year-old dad visited recently, I noticed he missed snippets of what I said, which caused both of us to repeat ourselves. It drives me crazy when people tell me stories they told me the day before, and I've noticed that a lot of my friends seem to be doing it. This probably means I do it, too. I think people don't feel heard in a very broad sense. Life is so busy and so fast that people can't remember what they've said. Today my 8-year-old told me a story as we walked home from school. I said, “Hmmm, uh-huh, uh-huh” while silently wondering what I was going to make for dinner and reminding myself to call the dentist. My daughter suddenly stopped and said, “Mom! You're not listening!” So what's the answer? I'd like to say it has to do with eating dark chocolate, but honestly, it's about focusing on the present – and paying attention.

Cathy Bowman,  April 23, 2008

As the euro goes up and the greenback sinks, American tourists in Europe are gasping for breath. I know how it feels. I was in Rome recently, where a cappuccino on the Piazza del Popolo costs nearly $9. Ouch! Given the sticker shock these days, it's easy it is to forget that some of the best experiences in life are free. Frequent flier miles and last-minute deals can still make flying affordable, and the joy of being in Europe is that there's always a lovely square to sit in or a quaint little street to explore. Rome is full of churches with fabulous art free for the viewing. A slice of pizza and a scoop of gelato won't break the bank. On our last night in Rome, we happened upon a marching band playing in a piazza. As if on cue, a bride and groom stepped out of a church in a shower of rice. Everyone cheered. Everyone kissed. I thought about how lucky I was to be there and how kind the Italians are. The cost of the memory? Priceless.

Cathy Bowman,  April 3, 2008

I just read the article on RedwoodAge.com debunking boomer stereotypes. As a child born in the early '60s, I'm on the tail end of the boomer generation, though I never felt the label fit. I watched “Bewitched” and I remember Neil Armstrong's moon walk. But I was in elementary school at the height of the Vietnam War – old enough to wear a badge but too young to go to the demonstrations with my brothers. The point is, labels are tedious. No one really knows what it's like to walk someone else's path. I have friends in their 50s struggling with illness and financial insecurity, and others who are enjoying life without retirement worries. I went to the hospital recently because of an eye infection. The doctor was sweet as could be – but looked barely old enough to drive, let alone figure out what was making my cornea crazy. It was all I could do to not blurt out, “How old ARE you?” But he wasn't jaded. He was full of enthusiasm and did a great job. Another reminder that's it's attitude, not age, that makes the difference.

Cathy Bowman,  March 26, 2008

If you've been on an airplane more than once in your life, you probably have a story to tell. You sat next to a sweaty guy drinking diet cola and wine. It was a scary, bumpy flight. A 3-year-old kicked the back of your seat – thump, thump, thump. Or maybe you got all three – stinky pal, turbulence, devil child. Isn't it comforting to know that now the airlines don't have to feed you or provide clean toilets if you're stranded on the runway? Given the quality of plane food, a day without pretzel packs might be a gift. But honestly, everyone flies. Everyone knows how bad it can get. What happened to the Golden Rule? If you believe in karma – and I do – there are a lot of tickets already issued for the Flight to Hell. Here in England I see more and more people taking the train to France and beyond. They talk about the carbon footprint of flying, but it's more than that. People are tired of being squished in airplanes. Trains are great here and you can get to Paris in under 3 hours. It's a trip I just took – and it was perfect.

Cathy Bowman,  March 18, 2008

An exercise program for the brain? Please, please sign me up. Most mothers I know feel like their brain cells have taken a Roman holiday. When you're exhausted and overworked, conversations with a toddler - even a really cute one - are hardly the intellectual pick-me-up of a university class. These kinds of stories always catch my eye because I am terrible at SAT-type tests. I find crossword puzzles boring. But I do love to read, and I read as much as I can. My 8-year-old does, too, wolfing down novels faster than she eats her oatmeal. Want to stay sharp as a pencil? Borrow a kid and help her with her homework. The spelling lists are always fun to review (When was the last time you used “translucent” in a sentence?) and the math exercises are broccoli for the brain. Keeping the mind healthy means being engaged in life - and doing what's fun. As a 60-something artist told me, “If I can't be creative, I'll go mad.”

John McGowan,  March 9, 2008

I knew Eve Carson slightly.  My wife knew her well.  She took Jane’s first year honors class on women’s autobiography her first fall in Chapel Hill.  Eve was everything that makes being a college teacher worthwhile, the kind of student who blesses us with her interest, her energy, her promise.  The world so often seems to be going to hell in a hand-basket, but then somehow it keeps producing these 18 year olds who believe that their energy and good will can make everything all right.  And their belief is so unshaken that it proves contagious.  How could tomorrow not be better if the world is going to be handed on to people like Eve? So it feels like a Greek tragedy to have Eve shot down, like life raising its nasty head and telling us all that good things just cannot be sustained in this world. The deep disillusionment which comes from knowing that our country tortures prisoners and has a president who will veto legislation that tries to bring that torture to an end is now coupled with the deep disillusionment of seeing random violence, a purely meaningless act, extinguish the joyful light in our local small good place. People here are reaching for consoling words and, in their absence, embracing each other wordlessly.  What we cannot bear to say is that some more hope has been drained from a world in which it is already in short supply.

Cathy Bowman,  March 5, 2008

I just got an iPod. Now it seems these itty bitty music players may be the reason for an increase in the US crime rate. Good thing I live in London. I'm a latecomer to the techno party, but hey, I'm here. I went for years without a cell phone and don't own a television. But in recent months I've learned how to send text messages – a necessity here. Does the Queen text? I wonder. We all have our gadgets of choice, I guess. Being far away from home makes me grateful for my computer and the email joy it brings – kind words from my 80-year-old dad, goofy jokes from my uncle and witty messages from my gal pals. Thankfully, my laptop is big enough that it can't get lost. Techno trinkets like my little red iPod – a gift from my husband – are one more item to keep track of in the chaos of life, along with my wallet, purse and keys. I enjoy my new toy, but I can't get too attached to it. After all, it might get swiped.