The Minute You Think You Want to Stop: Stop Thinking

By Helen N. Harris, resident at Wesley Palms Retirement Community

LET ME APOLOGIZE for dictating this story for you instead of writing it myself. A few years ago, when I was in my late 80s, I got run over on a ski slope by an out-of-control snowboarder. The injury to my right hand still impedes me from writing. But the story is the same however it is conveyed. 

When I was a school girl my first choice was to become a doctor, but the chances of being accepted into medical school was not possible for a girl born in 1922 who was not the daughter of a doctor. Math was easy for me, so it is hardly surprising that I gravitated in the direction of engineering. That was not a destination without obstacles, but it is one I am very glad I pursued.

I grew up in Massachusetts where both my father and my mother had emigrated from Poland. They met and married in the USA and had three children. I was the only girl, and the youngest, with two older brothers. As seems to have been the pattern of that era my Dad worked in the shipyards in Quincy during World War I, and later in Lawrence, Mass, and my mother worked as a weaver in the mills. They worked hard to make sure their children would have easier lives than they had experienced. They made certain that my two brothers were college graduates, but my father was unconvinced that a girl needed a higher education. That did not deter me from following my own course. Don't misunderstand, he never stood in my path. It was just that he didn't feel that education was as important for a girl as it was for his boys.

After graduating from the University of Massachusetts I was awarded a scholarship to participate in an Aeronautical Engineering study project at the Uptown Campus of New York University which was all-male. About twenty of those chosen for this program in the early days of World War II were women. We were segregated in separate classes from the men. We were not permitted in the laboratories. It was only after the men had graduated and left the campus that we were allowed to enter the lab and see the actual aircraft engine we had previously only viewed in photos in books.

After completing this course of study I was employed by Chance Vought Aircraft in Stratford, Connecticut, just across the Sound from New York. Apparently for security reasons a decision was made to move such facilities from the New York area. Since Texas-financiers owned a major portion of Chance Vought, the company was relocated in Grand Prairie near Dallas. Next I was recruited by General Dynamics in San Diego, where I spent the rest of my career.
 
Over the years women were gradually more accepted in the profession, and a female engineer is not such a curiosity, but those of us who pioneered in this field never had it easy. Nevertheless, I always enjoyed working with men. With men you could face off in serious arguments about the right way to approach a problem, and then quickly put all the disagreement behind and work together harmoniously. I found women with less education had more of a tendency to hold grudges. That would not be true today.

I also found, for many years, that I had a hard time getting an office stenographer to type up my reports. There seemed to be a quiet resentment about my position and a sense that, as a woman, I should be typing my own reports. None of the above, however, justifies the way women have been denied opportunity to follow their dreams and prove their abilities to achieve. 

My husband and I were both avid skiers. He was more skilled at the art than I, but his excellence spurred me on to get better year by year. I skied my entire adult life, becoming a master racer. That has somewhat been the story of my life. I gave up skiing after I broke my T-12 vertebra and was not permitted to have surgery for a right hip because I was over ninety years of age.

Never give up. Always persevere. Stay the course whatever the obstacles. Never let a challenge go unanswered. If there is any message I would like to leave to the generations that follow, that would be it. Keep smiling, and follow you dream.



The Minute You Think You Want to Stop: Stop Thinking is an excerpt from Aging As An Art Form: Through the Eyes Of Residents of Wesley Palms by Wesley Palms resident Don McEvoy. The book contains 50 stories, experiences and life lessons either self-written or told to Don through interviews.

Don McEvoy is storyteller, former pastor and civil rights activist. Aging as an Art Form is available from Outskirts Press and Amazon.com. Proceeds from the book benefit the residents of Wesley Palms.

Yo Se Quien Soy / I Know Who I Am

By Jose Frescas, resident at Wesley Palms Retirement Community

I was the middle child in a family of six brothers and five sisters, born and raised in Woodland, California about fifteen miles from Sacramento.

From the day of my birth until I entered high school I was Jose. The policy of the school was that all Latino students should be called by Anglicized names. I suddenly became Joe. My parents were greatly upset by this. They had christened me Jose and preferred that to be how I was known. But they were also greatly concerned that I not be disobedient to a teacher, or "make waves" with the school authorities. So, Joe it was.

Just how traumatic that change may have been, and how much it influenced my sense of self-awareness is difficult to estimate, but the fact that I still feel constrained to talk about it all these years later must mean that its effect was significant. I do know that I felt then, and still feel today, that my identity had been stolen.

Subconsciously at least, I am sure it was involved in my decision nearly three decades later to study to become a Counselor. I was acutely aware that I had purposely chosen that path so that I would have the opportunity to work with other minority youth in helping them recognize their true potential and dare to pursue their dreams.

A rather indirect path had brought me to that time and place. Immediately after graduating from high school I enlisted in the Marine Corps and spent eight years in that service. Looking back I feel these were largely wasted years.

On becoming a civilian again I began to look around for a college to attend. No member of my family had ever pursued education after high school, and I remain the only one who has chosen that path. Since that opportunity for me was made possible by a service related disability pen­sion, I have to reconsider my earlier remark that my years as a Marine were wasted years. My Bachelor’s degree was earned at the University of San Diego and followed by a Masters in Counseling at the University of New Mexico.

I then went back home determined to become a counselor, friend and role model for other minority young people in the school where I felt my identity had been denied. The obstacles put in my way were too great to overcome. I persevered for only five months before deciding that the achievement of my goals could only be realized working outside the system. My parents had earlier shied away from "creating waves", but they had produced a son who did little other than that. I was not a trouble maker, but I was determined to give minority kids the helping hand that was never outstretched to me. Working in volunteer activities seemed the best approach to accomplish that goal.

Whether or not I succeeded is up to others to judge. I do cherish a resolution passed by Yolo County officials when I retired after 16 years of service to the Yolo Social Services Advisory community." They said my "lifetime commitment to those less fortunate will be forever remembered as an inspiration to others who believe in the future of Yolo County."

I have been told that I am the only person to be singled out for home by this civic body. Regardless, I am grateful that I had the chance to spend my life this way.


Yo Se Quien Soy / I Know Who I Am is an excerpt from Aging As An Art Form: Through the Eyes Of Residents of Wesley Palms by Wesley Palms resident Don McEvoy. The book contains 50 stories, experiences and life lessons either self-written or told to Don through interviews.

Don McEvoy is storyteller, former pastor and civil rights activist. Aging as an Art Form is available from Outskirts Press and Amazon.com. Proceeds from the book benefit the residents of Wesley Palms.

"Aging as an Art Form" at Wesley Palms

Residents tell inspiring stories of life-changing events 

Don McEvoy is a storyteller. As a former civil rights activist in the 1960s, minister, church pastor, author and personal friend of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Don has numerous stories to share about himself and his work.

But one of his passions is telling the stories of others –particularly stories of his fellow Wesley Palms residents. 

“During my eight years living here I’ve met scores of fascinating people,” Don said. “I’ve concluded that everyone, yes, everyone, has a fascinating story that needs to be preserved. You can’t go to dinner here without meeting someone with an interesting tale. That’s why I collected the ‘wisdom tales’ from my friends, each of whom has mastered the art of aging with grace and style.”

These stories are collected in Don’s latest book, Aging as an Art Form: Through the Eyes of Residents of Wesley Palms. The book contains 50 stories, experiences and life lessons either self-written or told to Don through interviews.

Among Don’s favorite stories are: a career minor league baseball player who barely missed being a New York Yankee; an aeronautical engineer who was the one of the first women to be accepted in an aeronautical engineering study project at New York University; musings of a concert violinist who after retirement needed to decide what to do with her vintage Italian violin made in 1695. Other stories include a resident who until the age of 14 lived in a traveling sawmill/lumber camp with her parents and drew inspiration from their hard work to become a doctor, a celebrated surgeon who after losing his vision, rededicated his life to working with the blind. Don’s book relates numerous stories of love, tragedy, celebration and hope from artists, athletes, musicians, professionals and home makers.

“All of these stories give the reader insight about who these people really are and how their experiences, passions, triumphs and disappointments shaped their lives,” Don said. “If there is an overall theme it would be perseverance and courage. Every one of these stories points to how the story teller’s life experiences has contributed to him or her aging gracefully.”

Read selected stories from Aging as an Art Form here. 

Editor’s note: Aging as an Art Form is available from Outskirts Press and Amazon.com. Proceeds from the book benefit the residents of Wesley Palms.

"Whosoever humbles himself shall be exalted."

by Chris Foster, resident at Wesley Palms Retirement Community


AS A PHYSICIAN I am bound, of course, by the Hippocratic Oath and its first principle, "Do no harm." This ancient document moves on to more positive aspirations and so do I. I have never considered it sufficient to simply avoid doing harm. I believe we have the moral obligation to seek to do good wherever, whenever, and in whatever way we can.

That was probably what motivated me while growing up in Glascow, Kentucky to choose a career in medicine. It began with a Bachelor's degree in Biology at Vanderbilt, followed by Med School at the University of Louisville. It was there I met and fell in love with Kathy, a nursing student from Indiana. We dated for a year, then decided to get married despite the fact that student nurses were not allowed to marry. A private ceremony was held in Kathy's home in Indiana and then we returned to Louisville and continued to live in our separate dormitories. We did keep an off-campus apartment, but that was kept secret too. Only on the day of Kathy's graduation two years later did we "come out" and wear our wedding rings in public.

Next came a three year residency in ear, nose and throat surgery in Roanoke, VA and a two-year hitch with the U.S. Air Force before I could begin my private practice back in my home town.

In 1969 Kathy and I and our two sons moved to La Jolla, California where I pursued the dual careers of surgery and teaching at the University of California San Diego (UCSD) School of Medicine. There was symmetry in that since I have always been both an active practitioner and a teacher.

While doing both of these demanding tasks I also became certified as a Bible instructor and for many years taught a large adult Sunday School class at La Jolla's Torrey Pines Christian Church. So now you know that a foundation of my philosophy of life and system of ethics is solidly based on Biblical principles.

My career as a surgeon came to a sudden end when I lost my sight, literally overnight. I am now legally blind, though I continue to see shapes and images "as through a glass darkly." I still dream some nights of being back in the Operating Room, but with nothing but a 40 watt bulb for light.

But when one door shuts another opens. I now, in my retirement, am actively involved with the Braille Society, both as a student and as a teacher.

Let me share with you one of the most important lessons I have ever learned. Several years ago I was President of the San Diego Ear, Nose and Throat Society. We were meeting at the beautiful Atlantis Restaurant. Our guest speaker was Dr. Bill House, who was one of the world's greatest ear surgeons. My job was to introducing him. Just prior to the introduction we were served Tortilla Soup. All of a sudden I got very hot. My tie had fallen into the hot soup and was being soaked up like litmus paper. As I stood to introduce him, Dr. House noticed my tie and my embarrassment. He then intentionally put his own silk tie into his soup. He began his speech by commenting that apparently this was a custom in San Diego. I never eat soup without remembering how this very great, but very humble, man helped ease my moment of red-faced chagrin. Ever since I have looked for moments when I might do something similar for someone else in their time of need.

"Whosoever humbles himself shall be exalted" is an excerpt from Aging As An Art Form: Through the Eyes Of Residents of Wesley Palms by Wesley Palms resident Don McEvoy. The book contains 50 stories, experiences and life lessons either self-written or told to Don through interviews.

Don McEvoy is storyteller, former pastor and civil rights activist. Aging As An Art Form is available from Outskirts Press and Amazon.com. Proceeds from the book benefit the residents of Wesley Palms.

Love, Laugh, Pray

By Bea Rogers, resident at Wesley Palms Retirement Community


THOSE THREE WORDS are one of the signs I have posted on the door of my suite here at Wesley Palms. Laugh, Love and Pray. That pretty well sums up my philosophy of life.

The other sign on my door is a note to God, telling Him that I am ready, but in no hurry. I celebrated my 99th birthday last month, but am in no rush to move on quite yet.

I grew up out in the country in Orange County, California in an area that later became Disneyland. Those were the years of the Great Depression. We were poor, but never went hungry. The chickens in the coop outback and a garden provided our basic needs. We wore uniforms to school, so I never had to worry about whether my dresses were as good as those of the other girls.

My favorite teacher, the one who had the greatest influence on me, taught music. More importantly she taught Life. I had the role of Yum Yum in our school production of The Mikado, and leads in several other shows. She was such a meaningful person that for many years twelve of us, three boys and their wives and three girls and their husbands, held an annual reunion with her, until she died.

I always loved to sing. In church, in school, everywhere. In later life I have often wondered why women seem to lose their voices, but men never do. Just look at the choir in almost any church and you will see young women and old men. It just doesn't seem fair.

But I am not complaining. I don't do that. I never did. Well, maybe I did once. In high school I worked in the cafeteria during the lunch hour. I was paid 15 cents a day and had no lunch. That was my spending money. But the boys who washed the dishes were paid 25 cents and given a free lunch. That was not fair, and I took the matter to our supervisor. His answer was: "But you are a girl." I told him that girls get hungry, too, but he didn't budge. Maybe I was a pioneer in the women's movement and just didn't know it at the time

Later I became a very successful business woman. A friend and I, who worked together in a dress shop in San Diego's North Park area, decided to go out on our own and start our own shop. Older, wiser, and more experienced people told us we simply did not have sufficient resources to begin a business, that we would surely fail, and lose what little we did have. We chose to ignore that advice. We struggled for a while, but we persevered. At least, I did.

My business partner stayed as long as she could and then announced her intention to "marry money" and left it all to me. A change of location to a rapidly developing area of the city brought success.

One era, when women's skirts were extremely short, I struggled every Sunday to keep my knees covered at church. Capris solved that problem for me. I guessed, correctly, that other women were having the same problem. My shop began to specialize in Capris and capitalized on that fashion trend.

I was married to a wonderful man for nearly 70 years. On our wedding day my father poked a finger in my chest and said, "I give this marriage two weeks." Every anniversary thereafter my husband would tell me, "Honey, your two weeks are almost up."

When I was in high school I told my mother, "If you will give me my freedom, I promise I will never do anything to embarrass you." Later, as a mother, I tried to be the freedom-giving and trusting person I had asked her to be. Raising a daughter was easy, an absolute delight. A son? What did I know about boys? But it turned out well. He is a wonderful man. My only advice to parents is: Love them. Just love them.

I can honestly say that I have never disliked anyone. I have thought about this a lot recently when considering what I wanted to say today, and I can confidently repeat it. I never disliked anyone.

And, I don't know how anyone could make it without God.
Love, Laugh, Pray is an excerpt from Aging As An Art Form: Through the Eyes Of Residents of Wesley Palms by Wesley Palms resident Don McEvoy. The book contains 50 stories, experiences and life lessons either self-written or told to Don through interviews.

Don McEvoy is storyteller, former pastor and civil rights activist. Aging as an Art Form is available from Outskirts Press and Amazon.com. Proceeds from the book benefit the residents of Wesley Palms.

Music, Poetry and Health Foods Are the Secret

by Wilma Haines, resident at Wesley Palms Retirement Community


IF YOU WERE one of the forty-four members of my family, you could expect a poem I had written especially for you on your birthday, every year. These, along with other poems I have written, now fill two large notebooks. That would not be the only time you heard from me, either. Over the years I have mailed Wilma's Weekly to them and my journals fill 42 books. They are in cursive writing which is not taught now. I think it is important to keep in touch.

My husband, Roger, and I were married for 74 years until his death a year ago. He was an air conditioning engineer and we moved extensively for his work, all across the Midwest, the Southwest and California. We also found time to participate in 14 Elderhostel travel seminars. Those programs, now called Road Scholar, came after we had raised five children.

My life has been filled with music. I was a music major at Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa back in the 1930s. After graduation I taught pubic school music for

two years, then took a "leave of absence" to give full attention to motherhood. Except for teaching private piano lessons.

I also played the violin some, but when a new chamber music trio was being organized and needed a cellist I decided I could probably switch instruments with ease. It wasn't as smooth a transition as I thought it would be, but I became quite proficient with the cello. It became my major instrument. I played with orchestras in Albuquerque and elsewhere for many years.

I also sang, and only retired from the choir at the Presbyterian Church in Laguna Woods a couple of years ago, at age 97.

But it wasn't just music that kept me active and alive. I love to read, especially historical fiction. Roger and I used to play at least three games of Scrabble every day. And, I hosted a Bible Study group in my home for many years. One must keep busy.

Another serious hobby was the planning and cooking of nutritious meals. I attribute my longevity to my devotion to healthy foods. Good eating habits and keeping actively involved are the secret I am happy to share.

 Music, Poetry and Health Foods Are the Secret is an excerpt from Aging As An Art Form: Through the Eyes Of Residents of Wesley Palms by Wesley Palms resident Don McEvoy. The book contains 50 stories, experiences and life lessons either self-written or told to Don through interviews.

Don McEvoy is storyteller, former pastor and civil rights activist. Aging as an Art Form is available from Outskirts Press and Amazon.com. Proceeds from the book benefit the residents of Wesley Palms.