Mom’s Lesson: Balance in the Checkbook of Life

Solace for this writer when she and her husband fell on hard times
By Kerri Fivecoat-Campbell for Next Avenue


I’m spring cleaning my office and desk when I come across my mother’s checkbook in one of my drawers. Mom’s been gone over a decade. The account is long closed and I’m in purging mode, so I contemplate putting the checkbook in the shredder.

But I can’t seem to let go of this meaningful memento of her once-ordinary life because of the vital lesson it symbolizes for me.

Buying Gifts for the Family

A cartoon caricature of an older woman smiles from the checkbook cover as a bubble over

her head exclaims: “Stop me before I shop again!” I smile, remembering how my mom loved to shop, especially for gifts for her family.

A widow on a modest pension that she received due to my dad’s career working on the railroad, Mom began shopping for the next Christmas year as soon as the current one was over — always seeking out bargains for the perfect presents. This was the only way she could afford to buy for her three adult daughters and our extended families. We begged her to stop buying presents, but it was the thing that gave her the greatest pleasure.

Mom was meticulous about balancing their checkbook, always making sure it had $50 extra that wasn’t counted in the balance — just in case.

Mom maintained the household finances and was meticulous about balancing their checkbook, always making sure it had $50 extra that wasn’t counted in the balance — just in case.

My dad passed away in 1981 at 58, just as my parents were about to enjoy more financial comfort with an empty nest. At 64, Mom went to work as a pharmacy cashier, where she was able to earn enough to maintain her own apartment and independence. After she began drawing the Railroad Retirement pension, Mom continued working as long as she could, using that “extra” income to buy gifts and indulge in her hobbies, weekly hair appointments and an occasional new outfit.

The Genie in the Bottle

So now, to us.

My husband, Dale, and I grew up in the same working-class neighborhood. We were both taught a strong work ethic and that the most important thing we have in life is our good name. We were cautioned not to ruin it by getting into debt we couldn’t handle. This philosophy worked well for us — until the Great Recession.Kerri Fivecoat-Campbell and her mom

That’s when Dale was laid off from his job as a diesel mechanic and my freelance-writing business was sent into a tailspin.

We went through our emergency fund within a few months. Living in a small Arkansas town, my husband had few opportunities to find a job paying close to anything like he’d been making. He ended up working two full-time jobs for minimum wage, $7.50 an hour. It still wasn’t enough to cover our modest expenses, so we began using credit cards as a means to survive. Soon, debt collectors began calling; we then refinanced the mortgage and took advantage of a loan modification on our truck.

Through those rough 18 months, I would sometimes open the top desk drawer, pull out my mom’s checkbook and rub it. I thought of all the financial hardships she’d endured: After my dad died, mom was forced to close her new craft business and sell the larger dream home they’d been able to buy two years prior. She needed money to pay their debts and live on until she could draw that pension.

Like a genie in a bottle, as I rubbed that checkbook, my mom’s can-do spirit would jump out at me. “Life is always about balance, in every area,” I remember she had told me.

What My Mom Did to Survive

Her voice kept me going through the hardest of those months. Still, at the end of our hardship in the spring of 2010, Dale and I thought of doing what my mom had done to survive — sell our house. Like her, we didn’t know where we would go or what we would do, but we felt crushed by the long hours of work and the debt. We made an appointment with a Realtor.

The day before that appointment, Dale was called back to his job.

Unlike my mom, we were fortunately able to hold onto our greatest asset, our home and land.

As the economy recovered, so did my freelance business. Today, we still have some of the credit card debt we racked up, although we’ve made progress reducing the balances. Dale was finally eligible for his company’s matching retirement plan last year, so we’re hoping to rebuild some of the savings we lost.
Living Mom’s Lesson

Like many Americans, we’re nowhere near where we need to be financially. But — thanks to Mom’s advice — we’re doing the best we can by balancing work and life, and trying to save a little along the way. Now in our 50s, nearing the age my dad was when he died, it makes me anxious that one of us might not be able to work before we’re able to pay off the house and most of our debt.

I’m holding Mom’s checkbook in my hand, as I contemplate what to do with it.

I close my eyes and see Mom’s tiny 90-pound frame standing in front of me at the grocery checkout line, writing a check as the cashier waits patiently. Long after most people had giving up checkbooks for debit cards, Mom clung to hers. It was comforting; her careful penmanship told her the checkbook balanced, no matter what, and it always had that little extra — just in case.

I hear her words again. I smile, returning Mom’s checkbook to my top desk drawer. Life is all about balance, even when you’re in the mood for purging.

Our financial future is still uncertain, but Mom’s checkbook still has that little something left in it I can cling to for comfort — that genie that brings her voice back to me when I need to hear it the most.

Achieving Your Dreams After 60

The authors of 'Senior Wonders' on the 3 P's for Triumphant Aging
By Karen L. Pepkin and Wendell C. Taylor for Next Avenue

Credit: Thinkstock

The media abounds with negative views about the impact of aging on physical, cognitive, and financial well-being. In fact, there are entire industries that have emerged to counteract the effects of aging — nutritional supplements, hormone treatments, surgical improvements, lotions, potions, and the like. They all seem to underscore Bette Davis’ famous quote, “Old age is no place for sissies.”

What if there were another point of view? What if aging brought about, not decline but our greatest accomplishments? What if we looked at aging as Dr. Christiane Northrup does? She tells us that “getting older is inevitable, but aging isn’t.”

Our book, Senior Wonders: People Who Achieved Their Dreams After Age 60 profiles 23 individuals and two groups who not only survived into old age, but achieved their greatest successes. As we wrote our book, we looked for emerging themes. Were there any commonalities among these people? Although their accomplishments were in a variety of fields (arts, sciences, social causes, entertainment, etc.), several themes became apparent. We think of them as the 3 P’s: Passion, Perspective on Life, and Persistence.

Passion, by definition, is any compelling emotion or feeling. These individuals either had a strong belief in what they were doing, or in the case of those with an artistic bent, they couldn’t help creating, whether it was writing, painting, or acting.

Perspective on life emerged as a theme when we noticed that several of our seniors commented that they couldn’t have achieved their success at an earlier age. Having lived a long life enabled them to learn from failures and successes, establish a clear focus, and develop a unique perspective.

Our last P is Persistence. This theme became apparent when we observed that many of our seniors faced daunting obstacles and accomplished their goals by sheer will and determination; they did not give up.

Author Harry Bernstein and humanitarian Clara McBride Hale are two who exemplify these themes.

Bernstein was born in Stockport, England in 1910 and began his education as an architect. But when his teacher discouraged his career choice, he decided to pursue a writing career and moved to New York to accomplish his goal. Although he made a living as a writer, his wife, Ruby, had to work as a school secretary to subsidize the family income. He did have one novel published, but it wasn’t successful. Undaunted, Bernstein continued to write, penning more than 20 novels that were never published.

In 2007, at age 97, he wrote an autobiographical novel, The Invisible Wall, which received critical acclaim. The book poignantly described the “invisible wall” that separated the Jewish and Christian sections of his home town. At age 98, he published, The Dream, which told the story of his family’s move to America. Because these two books were so successful, he was awarded the Guggenheim Fellowship at age 98 to pursue his writing.

At 99, he published the third book in the series, The Golden Willow: The Story of a Lifetime of Love, about his marriage to Ruby and later years. His novels have been translated into several languages. Bernstein stated: “If I had not lived until I was 90, I would not have been able to write this book…It could not have been done, even when I was 10 years younger. I wasn’t ready. God knows what other potentials lurk in other people, if we could only keep them alive well into their 90s.”

When her husband died, Clara McBride Hale had to support herself and her three small children. Not wanting to leave her children unsupervised for extended periods of time, she opened a day care in her Harlem neighborhood. Many of the children in her care stayed overnight because their parents worked as domestics. She then decided to become a foster parent and raised 40 foster children, all of whom pursued a college education. At 64, after 28 years, she retired from the foster care system. Soon after, her daughter referred a drug-addicted mother and baby to Hale for help. Before long, she was caring for all this mother’s drug-addicted children.

As the word spread throughout New York City, more and more drug-addicted babies were left in Hale’s care. During the first year and a half, her family provided financial and other support to keep her mission going. Then, the Borough of Manhattan president, Percy Sutton, arranged public funding. Also, John Lennon left provisions for support of Hale House in his will.

In 1975, Hale House moved to 122nd Street where it remains today. After successfully reuniting hundreds of families, only 12 children had to be placed for adoption. At age 85, Clara McBride Hale was honored by President Ronald Reagan for her humanitarian work. She stated: “I’m not an American hero, I’m just someone who loves children.”

“Triumphant aging,” as exemplified by Bernstein and Hale, is a counter perspective to the pervasive negative beliefs about aging. Do you, your relatives or friends have untapped potentials or abandoned dreams? If so, consider what George Elliot said: “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

© Twin Cities Public Television - 2017. All rights reserved.



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4 Life Lessons From Tony Bennett and Other 89-Year-Olds

Bennett and Dick Van Dyke are going strong and happy

By Liz Fedor for Next Avenue

Tony with his son Danny, 2007 Grammy Awards

Singer Tony Bennett, at 89, isn’t resting on his laurels.

He recently released a new album, The Silver Lining: The Songs of Jerome Kern. In an interview with NPR, he recalled how much he loved singing for his relatives as a boy. “It created a passion in my life that exists to this moment as I speak to you, that is stronger now at 89 than in my whole life,” Bennett said. “I still feel that I can get better somehow. And I search for it all of the time.”

Bennett’s not the only 89-year-old who is defying stereotypes of older age. Actor Dick Van Dyke just wrote a memoir titled Keep Moving: And Other Tips and Truths About Aging. Queen Elizabeth continues to carry out the royal responsibilities she inherited in 1952. And Marilyn Hagerty, my friend and former colleague, continues to write regularly for the Grand Forks, N.D., Herald.

Their daily lives offer four lessons for all people of all ages:


Lesson 1: Spend Time with People of Different Generations

 With her sky-high shoes, infamous meat dress and outlandish theatrics, Lady Gaga stands opposite Bennett on the pop star spectrum. Yet Bennett saw an opportunity for an interesting collaboration, so he reached across their 60-year age gap and created a hit album of jazz standards and toured the country with the artist he calls ‘Lady.’

By working with artists who are younger than he is, Bennett is living in the present and learning how younger people interact with each other.

Lesson 2: Don’t Bow to Pressures to Retire

Actors, writers and professors are among the professionals who are leading the way to prove that there isn’t one right age for people to retire.

Like Queen Elizabeth, who hasn’t bothered to respond to speculation about her retirement, so are a slew of women in the public sector. Janet Yellen, 69, plays a key role in guiding the nation’s economy in her post as chair of the Federal Reserve System. Following deadly ISIS attacks in Paris, two American women have important roles in proposing U.S. policy to combat terrorism at home and around the globe: Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, the leading Democratic candidate for president, is 68, and Sen. Dianne Feinstein, vice chair of the Senate Intelligence Committee, is 82.

Lesson 3: Look for the Silver Lining

On his new album, Bennett sings, “A heart full of joy and gladness will always banish sadness and strife. So always look for the silver lining.”

During the many years I’ve known Grand Forks Herald columnist Marilyn Hagerty, she has always exemplified this attitude. I’ve watched her lose her husband and daughter, overcome breast cancer and pick up the pieces after her home was flooded. Despite her sorrow, she perseveres by being out and about in the world and moving forward. She enjoys her grandchildren, regularly plays bridge, cheers at college games and volunteers at her church. But Hagerty has loved being a journalist her entire life, so she makes time to report and write informative and wry columns laced with her self-deprecating humor.

People like Hagerty and Bennett focus on what they physically can do; they don’t dwell on what they can’t do.

Lesson 4: Indulge Your Passion

In his new book, Keep Moving, Van Dyke writes about how he danced in celebration of his 89th birthday: “I shimmied and shook, my hips going right and then left, my arms and wrists undulating like long snakes.”

When someone told him, “You don’t act your age at all,” Van Dyke concluded that “old age is part fact, part state of mind, part luck.”

He loves to dance, so he indulges that passion. And to ensure that he can keep dancing, he works out daily by walking on a treadmill and lifting weights.

Van Dyke has another wise piece of advice for people of all ages: Don’t worry. “The less you worry, the better your attitude is, and a positive, worry-free, guilt-free attitude is key to enjoying life at any age — especially old age.”

 © Twin Cities Public Television - 2016. All rights reserved.



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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.

Why Having Cancer Made Me Stop Rushing

By Mark Nepo for Next Avenue

Credit: Thinkstock

The following is adapted from Inside the Miracle: Enduring Suffering, Approaching Wholeness by Mark Nepo. Published in November 2015 by Sounds True.

One of the great transforming passages in my life was having cancer in my mid-30s. This experience unraveled the way I see the world. It scoured my lens of perception, landing me in a deeper sense of living. There are certain experiences that reform us, as if God’s a tireless blacksmith who, against our pleading, forges the metal in us, though it takes years for our heart and mind to cool from the pounding. My journey with cancer was how I was forged.

If I learned anything from having cancer, it’s that unless there’s a physical need — such as needing air to breathe or needing to stop a wound from bleeding — there’s no reason to rush, no matter the level of urgency being showered on us by others.
It Is Up to Us

Each of us is driving our own train, and the trick is not to go so fast that everything blurs and yet to go steadily enough that we get somewhere; though there are times when not going at all is tantamount to arriving.

The violent speed of our age doesn’t help. In a world so mobile and transient we can wake up married in Atlanta and go to sleep divorced in Fort Worth; the game has become who can snatch a mouthful of seed and be on their way first. In a world where sophistication means we show nothing, the mind becomes as cold as a camera shutter, opening and closing rapidly so as not to let too much in. In a world that makes a fortress of objectivity, we avoid the one frontier that returns us to first-hand experience: our ability to care. In a world that deems simplicity as dull, patience as slothful, and compassion as entangling, we give up inroads to our very core if we can no longer empathize.
Stopping Is Not Enough

Succumbing to speed is a form of isolation that makes us feel inadequate, because we’re always falling short, always catching up. But stopping alone is not entering stillness, because stopping alone does not let who we are merge with where we are. Still, to stop and slow down is a beginning, because we start to find what matters when we stop rushing.

Rushing can be defined as any instance in which we move faster than we need to. As soon as we begin to rush, whether hurried by an overbearing parent to the dinner table or harried into a career choice by an artificial deadline of our own making, we become estranged from ourselves; that is, a hollow forms between our inner self and the self that’s rushing through the world. Once divided from our sense of aliveness, we lose contact with that kinetic border called wonder. This estrangement from our aliveness is the beginning of alienation. And though there are many ways to feed our estrangement, rushing out of congruence – out of being where we are – is as sure a path as any to the netherworld of half-living.
‘The Temporary Ease of Hiding’

Throughout our lives, we struggle with the temporary ease of hiding and the pain of never surfacing: hiding our feelings of insignificance in our ambitions for a life of fame, hiding our confusions at the complexities of life in principles we hope will swallow them, hiding our pain of honest suffering in a resignation that stills the heart. And all the while our experience of what is real gets away from us.

But if we were to hide who we are in who we are, like hiding a body in its skin, if we were to let things be and not make over their impact on us, all hiding would evaporate and the constancy of our self would be final, real and unequivocal in its majesty of flaws.
A Different Way to Live

When we can manage to live our own life, letting nothing real slip away, the larger ocean of life draws us with a magnetism all its own, the way a fish is drawn by light to a surface it can’t imagine.

If we dare not to rush, not to live any faster than we are ignited from within, if we dare to slow into true presence the many times we do rush, if we dare to hear each other’s needs, if we dare to accept the discomfort of not knowing what to do until it becomes the comfort of a perennial question – we might find that one life in its unmitigated fullness may be more than enough.

Copyright © 2015 by Mark Nepo.





© Twin Cities Public Television - 2016. All rights reserved.


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