What Really Matters, According to Me

Last night, I lay in bed for a couple of hours, unable to sleep. Have you ever done that? I’m thinking 6 out of 10 of you have, at least once. Between 25% and almost 50% of Americans over the age of 18 regularly have trouble falling asleep and staying asleep for the recommended 7 hours per every 24-hour period. Here in Texas, about 30% of us struggle regularly (Center for Disease Control and Prevention statistics as of 2014). That means 3 out of 10 Texans have at least a touch of insomnia from time to time. We know the general rules for getting a good night’s sleep: have an established bedtime and follow a consistent bedtime routine. Exercise regularly and early in the day. Don’t eat or drink right before bed. Stay away from caffeine and alcohol. Don’t smoke. Use your bed the way it’s intended to be used (meaning no phone talking, eating, computer working, checkbook balancing, etc., in bed). Get off your screens at least an hour before bed. Try a few gentle stretches before bed to help...

As my 17-year-old graduate stands at the beginning of her adult life, she’s both excited and afraid of what the next chapters will hold. I am too, though mostly just excited. Her good-old days are in the making and yet to come. In some ways, my good-old days are behind me; my babies are grown and my cradle-rocking is reserved for grandchildren, now. Yes, I still have kids at home, including one in elementary school, but even a “young 50” is no spring chicken (might even be ‘old-as-dirt,’ depending on who you listen to). Being 50 doesn’t mean it’s time to give up living, don the granny bonnet, and pick up the knitting needles. Generally speaking, a 50-year-old man or woman who is healthy, strong and active is able to enjoy life to a fuller extent than a weak, inactive person of any age. The number of years you’ve been alive and even genetics need not dictate your quality of life. Lifestyle has more to do with that than anything, and lifestyle is a choice. Determine what’s important to...

Fifty years ago, 23 May 1968, my mother delivered her youngest of eight children by emergency cesarean section; a 10lb girl. Although nearly 41 years-old at the time, and even though it was a close call for her, I have it on good authority she never regretted bringing me into the world. Detroit was in upheaval when I arrived on the scene. Both of my parents worked for the Detroit News during that historical time and got the close-up picture as to what was happening from day to day, year to year. The whole world seemed volatile as the cultural sand shifted. Not only were minds changing with regard to race relations, minds were also beginning to change regarding family; what it is, why it matters and what the roles of adults are in the family. There were plenty of people who believed the world, even back then, was no fit place raise a child at all. My own mother was the eternal optimist; hence, I was born. We look around today and see so much of violence and dread, one of my own teenage ...