Columns & Editorials

I promise, this isn’t going to become one of those columns about organization techniques. We talked about that last week, huh? Granted, if you want titillating content about how not to organize or how to take that fine line between collector and hoarder and use it as a jump rope, you are in the right place, my friend. That reminds me of an acquaintance I made during Antiques Week in Warrenton, Texas back when it was feral and untamed. There was a Warrenton, after all, back before sororities started showing up in luxury SUVs to compete with Pottery Barn for lodging at a Rusty-chic Airbnb for a bajillion dollars a night. A triedand-true junker knows that the realest of the real dealers sleep in crusty old RVs or the back seats of their ’89 Ford trucks. The junk was divine. My acquaintance’s name was even better, Dead People’s Stuff. That’s what my guestroom closet should be called, mainly because that’s what it’s made from. Welcome to the museum. I’m Dina, your curator. Take your shoes off. Sit a spell.

Sensitive Me

Data from the United States Bureau of Labor Statistics indicates there were roughly 37 million providers of unpaid eldercare across the United States in 2021-22. The majority (59 percent) of eldercare providers are women, and individuals between the ages of 45 and 64 are the most likely to provide care. Unpaid caregiving also is significant in Canada, where the Canadian Centre for Caregiving Excellence reports Canadians devote 5.7 billion unpaid hours each year to caregiving. In the U.S., data from the BLS indicates that nearly half of all eldercare providers provide care every day (24.3 percent) or several times per week (24 percent). Full-time workers who provide eldercare in addition to their responsibilities at work provided an average of 2.65 hours per day of care in 2021-22.

How do I make myself clear when I communicate with people in my life? I feel like I am clear, but those I deal with continually say that I wasn’t clear or I didn’t tell them things, I am sure I already have. It sometimes seems surreal but I really want to fix this. I would think that it is the other person's problem, but more than one person has complained about this to me. Help!!

The Layden Senior Citizens Center of Forney would like to welcome you at 101 Main Street in City Hall, open weekdays from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. Please enter the front or through handicap-accessible doors located at the back of City Hall where reserved parking for seniors is also available.

“Shooting” Turkeys

Term vs. Perm: Which is Right For You?

Ok, I guess we are pretty much assured Spring is here. Do you have any gardening advice for me? I love flowers but don’t know much and haven’t had much luck in the past.

I’ve been doing it all wrong. It’s a sobering feeling, panicky almost. I have found that is how these moments usually go, these sudden realizations that typically hit us in the morning as we are brushing our teeth or shedding the clothes of the night for the clothes of the day. We see our own reflections in the mirror and exclaim – typically inside our heads but occasionally out loud, “Oh, Mylanta! I get it now. I finally get it!” That is how it normally goes for me, anyway. Show me an inopportune moment where time won’t allow me even a second to regroup, and I will solve a problem or right a grievous wrong. I just won’t have time to implement the solution. So it was this morning. I was trading in the messy bun of slumber for the messy bun of daily activity when it hit me. I am fading. My hair is turning gray with these areas around my face where the color of one is morphing into the color of the other. My complexion is more sallow, my eyes more hollow. I have lost that distinction of youth completely. The contrast is gone. There is no bright undereye for the peachiness of the cheek to reflect from, though the peach has long turned into a persimmon. There is only slackness and darkness and fuzziness. I’ve become blurry. Blinking my eyes, I half expected to watch my image break into a million pixels and disappear altogether. Under regular circumstances, these observations would send me spiraling faster than Merle Haggard can sing “are the good times really over for good,” but today was different. I smiled at my reflection with teeth that are no longer as straight as my parents planned them to be and only a few shades whiter than my olive complexion thanks to an undying love for coffee, and exclaimed, “I’M SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE THIS!”

I have small children. I am new to this community, and I don’t know many people. I can handle it, but my children are lonely and need new friends. Do you have any suggestions for me to meet individuals who have small children that may want to play?

When Should You Take Social Security?

I am a middle-aged man. I am looking for a good woman to build a long-term relationship. As you can imagine I have had some bad luck in the past. Any help would be appreciated.

There is so much noise, so much racket in the world. We are assaulted by the sounds, the sights, the smells. Someone is always pushing, always pulling, always needing something from us. Do you feel this way, too? Recently, there has been much debate over what defines a woman. Oddly polarizing this commentary has become. Some groups stake their claim on the hill of biology. Their battle cry is a rousing “God does not make mistakes.” Others attack with a cacophony of righteous statements like, “God does not get to decide what I am or am not.” While I side with the former, my condensed disquisition pivots on a single mantra. It is based on the things we carry, we women of this world. God especially equipped us with this gift that cannot be replicated or faked or hidden or pushed into oblivion. We carry. Period with a “T.”