Author Archives: gwendungy

How do we gauge what we value? I’m not talking about abstract values such as freedom and independence. I’m talking about when the floods or fires come to destroy our material possessions, what do we take with us? What do we feel is our greatest loss?

During late January every year where I live now, there is a huge car auction. The auction brings back memories of cars I’ve owned over my lifetime. One might think that I would place sentimental value on my first car, the 1955 green two-toned Plymouth, or my second car, the 1956 huge two-toned blue and white Buick. No, they were pragmatic purchases with no sentimental value when I gave them up. There have been numerous cars since those first two.

Some of the cars my spouse and I owned were premium cars. In our more mature years, our purchases became more practical in regard to gas efficiency and monthly payments. While I had owned cars of my own during my single years, the cars bought after I was married were joint decisions between me and my spouse.

Except for one.

Have you ever seen something, and immediately known that it was yours? That it belonged to you, and if you didn’t possess it, you would never be the same?

We were living in a suburb of St. Louis on our way to an inexpensive restaurant because we were both too tired to make dinner after work. On this pleasant Fall evening, we were driving down the main drag of the town laughing about going to eat at what we called “the old-folks” restaurant. It was one of those restaurants that had a line like in a cafeteria and all the old people were there by 4:00 p.m. for dinner.

On this street, there was one car dealership after another. I never paid much attention to them. On this evening, out of the corner of my eye, an electric blue flashed under the bright lights of the showroom. Calling me was a 1978 VW convertible with a periwinkle body and an off-white top. The top was down and in the back seat of the car was a huge teddy bear.

That was it! I said, “That’s my car!” Though we went on to get something to eat, I had no appetite. I was ecstatic about the car. I wanted us to hurry up and finish at the restaurant in order to get back to the dealership before someone else would see it and buy “my car.” My spouse used to tease me by saying that all my friends were crazy. Now he was saying that I, too, was crazy.

The short of it is that we traded in the stunning Grand Prix for “Violet.” This was certainly not a pragmatic decision. Though Violet was my baby, my spouse grew to love her as much as I did. The love for Violet never ebbed.

When I had to completely empty our house in Maryland in order to sell it and move West, I didn’t give material possessions much thought. Perhaps it’s because my grief was too fresh after losing my life-partner, my love, my friend. At that time, I could have walked away from the house and left everything. However, this was not a responsible option so, with the help of friends and our son, I was able to empty the house and garage to get it ready for sale. I kept very few material possessions and had no angst about what I gave up.

The saddest moment I had during this process was when I witnessed the truck pulling Violet up the hill away from the house and me. Standing in the driveway looking at the rear of Violet brought the only tears I shed in giving up a lifetime of possessions. Seeing the rear end of Violet moving away from me brought the feelings that I had not expressed about how the past was gone and a new reality was before me.

Our son suggested shipping Violet to my new home, where he prepared her for the annual car auction and a proper goodbye.

What a thrill it was to see Violet on a stage with lights on her as people bid on owning her. It reminded me of the first time that I saw her under the lights in the showroom of the dealership. This felt right. There was no sadness. Just joy in what she symbolized in our lives.

Remember when everybody smoked cigarettes? 

My retrospective about smoking is informed by growing up in a family of smokers. It seemed that the folks who were chewing tobacco and dipping snuff in the 1940s switched to cigarettes as their main nicotine source in the 1950s. Smoking cigarettes was certainly more convenient and cleaner than the type of tobacco consumption that required spittoons, spit cups, and brown paper bags with the tops rolled down.

The television and magazine ads for cigarettes depicted glamor and cool for both men and women. While men historically indulged in a chew, cigar, or pipe, women were less inclined to be spitting tobacco juice, blowing smoke from cigars, or teeth-clenching a pipe, thus making women a targeted and ready market for cigarettes.

I imagine that the concept of “cool” along with the suggestion of menthol was what fired the imagination of advertisers to brand a cigarette with the name “Kool.” Perhaps one of the coolest things about smoking was that society allowed men and women to be on equal footing as they indulged their habit.

I can recall family members and friends of the family smoking all brands of cigarettes. My father smoked Lucky Strikes. My grandparents were partial to Camels. Realizing that folks were addicted and loyal to their own brand of cigarettes, my mother opted to switch brands often in an effort to avoid having to share hers with others.

Damages to the health of generations of people have been devastating over time. While our current times seem dark and pessimistic on so many levels around the world, I found a bit of optimism when I read an article from 2015 about the rate of smoking in the United States.

Likely because of bans on indoor smoking and effective messaging about the health perils of smoking, data showed that smoking had decreased from 45 percent of the U.S. population in 1965 to 15 percent in 2015. (Dennis Thompson reported data from the CDC in Healthy Days according to Erin Blakemore in Smart News, September 4, 2015)

In 2018,* the rate of U.S. adults aged 18 years or older who were current cigarette smokers was down to 13.7 percent, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which is one trend in the right direction.

*most recent data available from the CDC

Am I the only one who is still working on the same issues that have been concerns and sources of consternation most of my life?

As I read the journals that I have diligently kept over the years, I think it’s sad that I have not conquered the enemies, overcome the obstacles, and smashed through the roadblocks that have plagued and hindered me from being the best that I can be. I seem to be skirting around my great potential. Over the years, I’ve come close to it, and then I’ll just skitter back into the same habits that are not getting me closer to my goal of being as healthy as I could possibly be.

The obstacles are all of my own making. Am I the only one who is ashamed to say out loud what the problem is? I confess that I’m a glutton about food that I like. I admit that I’m addicted to sugar. I’ve overcome so much in my life, but these two—of my own making and through no fault of anyone else—have proved to be a tough match for me.

Given this, am I the only one who finds this time of year the most difficult? To be sure, November, December, and January are anticipated with joy, but realized with dread. The scenario of the upcoming struggle is clear to me: I will tell myself that I will be moderate and temperate in the way I eat, all the while knowing that I tell myself this every year and most of the time fail miserably.

As far back as high school, I’ve struggled with these twin demons. Back then, my best friend, Pat, and I would give up sweets for Lent. Invariably, Pat would tough it out and succeed while I would succumb to my weakness. I can’t count the times that my New Year’s resolutions about food and sweets were dashed before the end of January.

Like my father who told me that he was not addicted to alcohol because he could stop drinking whenever he wanted, I tell myself that I can stop eating too many sweets at any time. And, like my father who proved that time and time again but eventually would return to the alcohol so, too, have I proved able to not eat obvious sweets for several years. During these years, I even checked labels on everything I ate in order to avoid all sugar.

How was I able to do this for several years and other times I’m unable to go without sweets for more than a couple of days? The cessation in my addiction to sugar was prompted by my dear secretary, Linda, who was the most understanding person one could ever meet. But even these saint-like people have their limits.

One afternoon, Linda, with a serious look on her face, said, “I’d like for you to stop the flurry of what you’re doing and sit down. I need to say something to you.” I recall clearly the afternoon that we sat at the small conference table in my office.

I was apprehensive because I didn’t know what was coming. Linda said that she noticed that my behavior changed on the days that I went to the vending machine and bought a Snickers. I asked what she meant about a change in my behavior. She said, “To put it bluntly, you turn into a crazy person, moving fast, talking fast, flitting from one thing to another. You become easily annoyed. You have no patience with me or anyone else who comes into the office on those afternoons that you eat a Snickers bar.”

I was dumbstruck and didn’t know what to say. She went on, saying, “I like working with you and we have a good relationship, but if you continue to eat those Snickers resulting in a sugar high, I won’t continue working with you.” With this ultimatum from Linda, I stopped cold. No Snickers. No sugar at all. The price was too high. I didn’t want to lose her.

One would think that my overall health should be enough for me to make the change I want to make. But it hasn’t proven enough yet. Am I the only one struggling with the same issues of one’s own making year after year?

I find it easier to deal with the problem of gluttony because, at a certain point, my clothes don’t fit. Then I have no alternative but to cut back on food. I refuse to change the size of my clothes in order to accommodate a bad habit.

Sweets are a problem of a higher order. What I want is to be able to continue to eat sweets, but in moderation. Years ago, I met a woman who was in her nineties and looked fantastic! I don’t know what led to the revelation during our conversation, but she had a habit of having a dessert after every evening meal. If dessert was cookies, she would eat only one cookie. I don’t think that I even want to be that constrained, but I would like to not eat the entire box of cookies!

Am I the only one who has self-made demons that continue to plague over the decades?