The One / Three / Five / Seven / Ten / Fifty Exercises You Should Never Do

A couple of weeks ago, I came across an article entitled, “The One Exercise You Should Never Do.” The never-do was one of those machine exercises that strengthens and bulks up your quadriceps without also strengthening the hamstrings. I didn’t pay attention to the exercise since I never do it and never would do it, so I have only a vague idea of what the exercise is (seated knee extensions, I think). The reason for not doing the exercise interested me, however: not only does the machine put an unnatural strain on the knees, if you build-up the quadriceps without also building up the hamstrings, the powerful muscles in front of the thighs pull at the knees in an unnatural manner.

I wanted to read that article again because I referenced the unnatural weight issue in my Planning Sponteneity post, but I couldn’t find the citation. Instead, I found a whole slew of articles telling me what exercises to do and what not to do — The One Exercise You Should Never Do. The Three Exercises You Should Never Do. The Five Exercises You Should Never Do. The Five Exercises You Should Always Do. The Seven Exercises You Should Never Do. The Ten Exercises You Should Never Do. The Fifty Exercises You Should Never Do. Yikes. What a morass!

One article said to never do Smith Machine Squats, whatever those are. It also listed five must do weight-training exercises: lunges, pull-ups, planks, squats, and burpees. For you uninitiated, “burpees” does not refer to a seed company, but is an exercise you probably know as “squat thrusts.” Despite the endorsemennapt in this article for burpees, other articles say that burpees are the one exercise you should never do.

Some say never do squats, or rather deep squats. Some say never do crunches, some say crunches are a great exercise. Some say never jog, others say to jog. Some say never jump on concrete. (No one, of course, disagrees. Jumping on concrete is a great way of destroying your knees.) Some say seated exercise is the best way of protecting your back, knees, etc. Others say we sit enough and don’t need to do any more sitting. Some say don’t use light dumbbells. Some say never use a Smith machine, others suggest various exercises such as Smith Machine Squats. Some say never do overhead triceps extensions with dumbbells, others recommend doing them. Some say never do clean and jerk, others recommend doing them. Some say don’t ever do bridges, others say do them. Some say don’t do the dead lift because it’s too hard on your back, others say to do it. Others say to eschew working out at a moderate pace for long periods of time.

It seems to me that the exercises to never do are those you don’t like doing. If you don’t like doing them, there’s probably a reason, perhaps they hurt or are they are beyond your ability or strength. And the exercises to do are the ones you will do.

So, where do I fit in all these must-dos/never-dos? Of the first five must-do exercises, the only one I do is the plank: a pose similar to the beginning of a push-up, only you balance on your toes and forearms (or knees and forearms, which is all I can do) for a certain number of counts. It’s also simple and safe, though I can’t attest to its effectiveness. I just do it. As for squats — I can barely do a grande plié, which is sort of a squat without weights. And the only thing close to a lunge I do is a yoga warrior pose, again without weights. And I don’t even want to talk about burpees. I hated doing them in gym class when I was a kid, so even if I could do them (which I can’t) I wouldn’t. I could probably do a pull up if I lost three fourths of my body weight, but maybe not since I’d be too emaciated to do anything, not even pull myself up out of bed.

As for the rest, I use light dumbbells — eleven pounds each for a total of 22 pounds (but only because I’m too lazy to set up my barbells, which would be heavier. Jeff always did that and now somehow I just can’t find the will to do it for myself). Using light weights with many repetitions builds strength, where heavy weights with few repetitions build bulk, or at least that’s what I’ve read. I generally walk at a moderate pace because that way I can walk longer with no pain. And yes, moderate walking burns fat without eating muscle. (Ever wonder why there are no bulky long distance runners?)

All this talk of exercise has worn me out. I think I’ll go take a nap.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Planning Sponteneity

It seems silly at times to spend so much effort in figuring out the future when the future often takes care of itself, and yet I would like to live a more spontaneous life than I’ve done so far, and that takes planning.

For example, I would like to set off on an adventure in an effort to live spontaneously, just go where the wind blows (or, considering how much I dislike wind, go where the wind doesn’t blow), but whether I am on foot or in a car, I will need to be prepared in case my adventure takes a disastrous turn. And even if there is no major disaster, just minor calamities like blisters, such mishaps could take some of the spontaneity and all of the fun out of an adventure.

There are many things I cannot know — or plan — until I am free of my current responsibilities looking out for my 97-year-old father. It could be that my father outlives me. It could be that I would want to hang out in this town for a while longer, especially if I weren’t ready to leave my friends and my various activities. It could be I would want to do a more structured adventure to begin with, such as a women’s wilderness adventure. It could be I would want to — or need to — take a car trip first to get used to living an unsettled life, then gradually work up to a walking trip. It could be that I won’t bemind physically capable of walking for miles on end. It could be that that after all these months — and eventually, perhaps, years — of planning, I decide to quit after a day or two.

For now, thinking about an epic walk is like working a puzzle. What would I do with my glasses at night? What would I need at bare minimum? How would I carry those necessities? What would I wear?

I carried a five-pound weight in a backpack on one of my local walks, thinking it would be a good way to get acclimated to carrying extra weight. I didn’t expect any problem at all — five pounds is not much, and I’d recently lost at least that much weight. After three miles, however, my buttocks hurt and so did the tops of my feet. I still don’t understand why there would have been any noticeable difference, unless it is where I carried the weight. The five pounds was on my mid-to-lower back, but when you carry an extra five pounds of body weight, that weight is distributed throughout your body, so no one muscle would feel the effects. I’ve been wondering if a belly pack would offset some of the weight of a backpack, giving a better distribution of the weight, but my online researches have turned up no answer. I do know that if you develop your quad muscles at the expense of your hamstrings, you can end up with knee problems, so it’s possible the same sort of physiology would hold true when carrying weight. I suppose one of these days I’ll have to get both a pack and a belly pack and see how it goes.

Speaking of backpacks, many of them weigh four to five pounds. Yikes! That’s close to the maximum of what I want to carry. If I do get a pack, I’ll be checking the weight. And size. I always thought you just saw one you liked at the price you liked and bought it. Apparently not.

Then there’s the matter of clothing. Experienced hikers say not to wear cotton, to wear fast drying wicking fabrics, especially for garments that hug the skin, like socks. One woman went so far as to say that anyone who wore cotton socks even for walking short distances was an idiot. Apparently cotton keeps the feet wet, provides no warmth, and causes blisters, while wicking fabrics “wick” the moisture away from the skin and keep the feet dry. My problem is that synthetic fabrics make my skin sweat, so perhaps my skin would be warm and dry, but I’d be walking in a swamp. This past winter I got some wicking ear warmers. I never knew ears could sweat so much! So now I’m back to using silk scarves to tie around my ears for protection. I’ll have to look into silk sock liners. Or alpaca socks. I never even knew there were such things.

The more I try to figure out the logistics of such a trip, the more I want to scrap all my plans. Just take off. Nothing but me, some random clothing, and whatever I can fit into my pockets. Now that’s a plan for spontaneity!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Preparing for My Next Adventure

I got an email from NRA’s Woman’s Programs, telling me about a planned wilderness escape. The attendees would learn to shoot smallbore rifle silhouette, scoped/tactical carbine, long range high power rifle, conventional and tactical pistol, historic firearms and shotgun (five-stand), and archery. Other activities included in the program are bow hunting, a mock hunt, and survival training.

campingAlthough I enjoyed the day I spent learning about gun safety and shooting various weapons at the local gun club (I thought someone who has killed as many people in books as I have should know how to shoot), I can’t imagine being steeped in gun culture for eight days. Nor am I certain I’d be willing to pay $1800 for the privilege. Still, the idea does tug at me, as do all things I’ve never done before. If nothing else, the shooting complex would be an interesting setting for a murder, and I could chalk up the week to research.

One thing in the invitation especially caught my attention: Whether you are a novice or a seasoned outdoor enthusiast, it’s an experience that will prepare you for your next adventure!

Do they know about the adventure I’m considering, walking up the Pacific coast? Oh, my, I sure hope I won’t need to know how to shoot for that expedition. Guns are heavy! I tend to take as little as possible, probably way too little (though not as little as The Peace Pilgrim who carried only a pen, comb, map, toothbrush, and the clothes on her back). I’m not planning on walking for peace, exactly, but am aiming for a peaceful walk. Not only would a gun overload my pack, it would make me nervous, as if it were calling out to be used. (Can you feel my shudders?) So not the spirit of peace!

Still, I would take pepper spray or bear spray or some other sort of unfriendly creature spray, and I figure as long as I remember to point it away from me, that’s all the expertise I’d need.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Pacific Crest or Pacific Coast

When I first blogged about going on an epic adventure, I mentioned the Pacific Crest Trail, but I have since discounted the PCT for two reasons. The first reason is silly, but still real. Whenever I’ve mentioned the PCT, people invariable tell me about Cheryl Strayed, and I want my own adventure, not a poor imitation of someone else’s. If I really wanted to hike the PCT, being forever overshadowed might not be a consideration, but the truth is, the PCT isn’t a walk in the park, and I like walks in the park. Or any sort of walk. What I’ve recently discovered is that I’m not fond of hiking.

WheLow tiden you walk, you are light and free, just swinging along, your body in perfect rhythm with its surroundings.

When you hike, you have to pick your way along often uneven terrain, sometimes on narrow trails that are eroded in spots, sometimes on logs that pass for bridges over shallow ravines or waterways. That would be bad enough, but generally you are also carrying a heavy pack (even a light pack — under twenty pounds — is heavy for one who is used to walking unencumbered). When you thru-hike the PCT, you have weather considerations and seasonal changes, such as winter, so you are on a stringent schedule. An ice axe is recommended and in many areas a bear canister is required. (An ice axe is to help you self-arrest if you start sliding down a snow-packed slope, which presupposes you have the strength to hang on, which I don’t. A bear canister is for protecting your food in bear country.) And this year, so I have heard, PCT hikers have been chased by killer bees and are having to deal with detours due to certain parts of the trail being burned out. Eek. So not my idea of a fun outing!

What I’m considering instead is walking along the coastline. Although there is no Pacific coast trail, all three Pacific states are in the process of creating one, mostly by connecting existing multiuse trails, bike paths, and boardwalks. Although the coast walk is partly urban, it also incorporates wilderness and desolate areas. And one 50-mile stretch goes along the shoulder of a highway. I suppose in a way a coastal walk would be even worse than hiking the PCT because not only would you have the possibility of meeting untamed creatures of the wild, you’d also risk meeting untamed creatures of the city, such as feral dogs and brutal humans. (Sounds to me as if I need to add pepper spray to my list of necessities.)

Walking such a variety of terrains is different from hiking in the wilderness. In the wilderness, making a pitstop is as easy as stepping behind the nearest bush, but such freedom does not exist on public beaches. In the wilderness, you can pitch a tent almost anywhere there is room, but on the coast you’re more apt to find yourself stealth camping — camping in undeveloped areas — if there’s no official campsite. However, there is a lot more activity along the coast than the crest, especially in beach areas, so food and water might be more accessible.

By definition, a coast walk includes water. Not potable water, but salt water, and a salt water soak is good for aching feet.

So when/if it comes to a choice between coast or crest, I’ll opt for coast.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

What Do You Absolutely Need?

I’ve been searching the internet for information about ultralight backpacks, tents, and sleeping bags in case I ever decide to walk up the Pacific Coast. Apparently, the lightest weight for all those things combined is about five pounds. Which, since I am interested in walking rather than struggling along with heavy pack, is still too much weight considering everything else I would need to bring. I suppose it would be possible to forget the tent and just sleep under the stars, or rely on relatives of friends and online acquaintances for a place to California sunrisestay, but emergency shelter is still a good idea.

But let’s forget that for now. It seems to take way more planning than the spontaneous adventure I dream of. Let’s also forget food and water, and assume that whatever I need will appear when I need it. As ridiculous as that might sound, it’s quite logical, since the first month or so of walking up the coast would be rather urban — San Diego, Orange County, Los Angeles, Ventura, Santa Barbara.

And let’s not talk about clothes. That too seems to take more planning and research than I want to do, at least for now, though I am thinking something gaudy. Sometimes camouflage is good, but human hunters so often choose their prey from among those who won’t be missed, and I want to make sure I would be noticed and would be missed.

So, what besides sleeping accommodations, food, and water, and clothes do I really need? Emergency supplies, I suppose, such as bandaids and water purifying tablets. A phone. Maybe extra batteries for the phone. Camera. A sun hat. Bug repellent, though supposedly there are few mosquitoes near the ocean. Toothpaste, toothbrush, dental floss. Lip balm. A bit of cream or lotion to keep my skin from chapping. Handkerchief. Toilet paper. Pee rag. Flashlight. A few pieces of duct tape. Treking poles. Pen. A small notebook. A flower or something frivolous for my hat or backpack to remind me that the trip is supposed to be fun.

Sheesh. That’s a whole backpack full of stuff right there!

If you were going off on some sort of adventure, what would you absolutely need to take along?

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

All Good Stories Begin and End in the Heart of a Man . . . or a Woman

I just finished watching Last of the Dogmen for the fourth or fifth time, and I am still under the spell of powerful storytelling. The story itself is good, but what makes it special is the narration by Wilford Brimley. Oddly, the narration was added after filming and over the objection of the writer/director who was so upset by the use of supplementary text that he refused to write Brimley’s words. Apparently, in some versions of the movie, the narration was subsequently cut way down and redone in another voice, probably in response to viewer complaints since most people seemed to think the narrative annoying, so I’m lucky to have the version I do.

What’s interesting about the narration from a writer’s standpoint is that it’s a good example of tell don’t show. Normally, showing is the way to go, but there are many intangibles that cannot be shown, especially in a movie. What’s interesting about the narration from a viewer’s standpoint is that it adds a different dimension to the film, taking it beyond a fantasy/romance/western into the category of myth.

Broken heartThe narration starts out with Brimley intoning that “the story begins where all good stories begin and end — in the heart of a man . . . or a woman.” I like that line, mostly because of its truth. If a story doesn’t delve into what matters, then the story doesn’t matter. Another line of Brimley’s is “Sometimes you have to put your faith in something you can’t see.”

And that, of course, is why the movie speaks to me. Both characters are searching for something beyond their ordinary lives, as am I, and they find wonder and mystery they could never even have imagined.

Perhaps we are all looking for what lies beyond the façade of normal life, because really, how can this culture of ours be the apex of billions of years of creation? There must be a world of wonder running concurrently with this world of wage slavery and commercialism. We can’t all find Dogmen, of course, but we can find . . . something.

For thirty-four years, I did find “something.” Although I wasn’t looking for it, I found love, companionship, connection with another human being, which was magical in its own way. And now that he’s gone, I want a different form of magic, though I couldn’t even begin to define what I am looking for. Just . . . something.

And that “something” lies where the rest of my story is — in my heart. It’s just a feeling I have, that there’s something out there — or in me — to find. In Joe vs. the Volcano, another favorite movie of mine, Meg Ryan tells Tom Hanks, “My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement.”

While living in a state of constant total amazement sounds exhausting, it would be nice to waken just once.

As for movies, apparently what appeals to me in film is the mythic quest. Joe vs. the Volcano, like Last of the Dogmen, is another story of people finding what they never knew they were searching for. And it’s a story of luggage, but luggage is a topic for another day.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

A Breathtaking Piece of Folly

In 1953, a 44-year-old woman set out to walk for peace. She left everything behind, even her name, calling herself “The Peace Pilgrim.” When she hit 25,000 miles in 1964, she stopped keeping track, but she kept going for many more years. She was walking in response to a spiritual awakening, and she’d taken a vow to “remain a wanderer until mankind has learned the way of peace, walking until given shelter and fasting until given food.” A minimalist hiker, she carried only a pen, a comb, a toothbrush, and a map, trusting to those she met to supply what she needed, though she never asked for anything. Her pilgrimage ended with her death in 1981.

The Peace Pilgrim had a mission, one that people responded to (though sometimes the response wasn’t what you might expect. On at least one occasion, she ended up in jail on a vagrancy charge). But what about someone who just sets off without a mission? Would food, water, and shelter appear when needed? And wouldn’t it be a bit presumptuous to expect others to supply one’s needs?

On the home page of The Peacewalker Society, a group that existed to support another peace walker’s mission, is the quote, “Let go, trust and just take the first step. The path will unfold before you.”

Sounds to me like a recipe for death.

When I took my trip to hunt the wild poppy, I paid attention to the miles rolling past as if I were walking instead of driving, and that is when I realized the true foolhardiness of an epic walk. All I saw were miles and miles of windy, dusty, very hot roads with nothing to break the monotony. No water. No stores. No shade. It would have taken me many days of walking across that bleak landscape before I finally found what passes for an oasis in our modern world — a small shopping center with a convenience store, gas station, and fast food place.

That experience along with the reality of water tended to quash my idea of walking long distances.

And yet, and yet . . .

There the idea sits, like a toad in the back of my mind, waiting to leap at the first chance it gets. What would happen if I just took off? No heavy backpacks filled with water, food, and camping gear. No thoughts. No plans. Nothing but me and the next step.

Do I have the trust? Do I have the courage? And more importantly, do I have the mission? It’s that mission, I think, that keeps people going long after good sense tells them to stop. My life has always been about a quest for truth, and I imagine there would be much truth to be found on an epic adventure, but would truth be enough of a mission to fuel resolve?

O. Henry wrote, “The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculating to meet and greet unknown fate.”

Makes me wonder — does a true adventurer take along a computer of some sort? At the beginning, The Peace Pilgrim kept a journal, but it was stolen, so she just wrote her life in the wind. But me, being an inveterate blogger, would need to post my thoughts, experiences, and photos online. Seems foolish — doesn’t it? — but then the whole idea is folly.

Still, as Mrs. Brown said in National Velvet, “I, too, believe that everyone should have a chance at a breathtaking piece of folly once in her life.”

Right now I still have responsibilities, but one day they will end. And then . . . perhaps it will be time for my own breathtaking piece of folly, whatever that might be

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

The Peace that Comes from Knowing You are Blessed

I’ve been taking stock of my life lately. Well, to be strictly accurate, my life has been taking stock of me. I am not purposely putting my past into perspective, it’s just that I see the horrible things that happen to people, the terrible physical and mental problems that plague them, the struggles they deal with on a regular basis, and I realize my life hasn’t been so bad. And of course, the request for my resume got me to thinking about what I’ve done (and haven’t done) with my life.

I didn’t have an easy time of it. Money was hard to come by no matter how hard we tried (“we” meaning my life mate/soul mate and I). We often lived hand to mouth; turned the thermostat down in the winter to almost unlivable conditions; didn’t oysterhave an air conditioner, which made the summers just as unlivable; bought food only on sale or at the lowest price available; never bought new cars; seldom bought new clothes or shoes.

And yet . . . I didn’t have a hard life, either.

We always managed to get through the winters and summers, had enough to eat (and it was all delicious and healthy since we cooked everything from scratch). We kept our vehicles running, always had plenty of library books around, planted dozens of trees and bushes and watched them grow. And we had each other. Although his dying about killed me, I got to be there with him through it all, and even was privileged to feel profound grief for him after he was gone.

I’ve been healthy more often than I’ve been ill. I’ve suffered bouts of depression at various times in my life, but my happy days outnumbered the sad/depressed ones. I laughed more than I cried, smiled more than I frowned. My mind works. (At least I think I it does. Since it’s my mind telling me that it works, would I know if it wasn’t?) My immune system is chugging along — even my allergy problems are a sign that my immune system is doing what it’s supposed to do. My body mostly does what I ask of it, and seems to have as much — or rather, as little — balance, elasticity, and endurance it always had.

Even my current situation — looking after my 97-year-old father and doing what I can for my dysfunctional brother — is a blessing. I have free time to indulge in blogs such as this, live in a nice area, enjoy being with friends, have the ability to participate in activities such as walking and exercise classes that help keep my body and mind in working order.

At the moment, I have no regrets, feel guilty about nothing, am angry about nothing. I haven’t even had a grief upsurge in a while. (As a matter of fact, the 27th of the month — the day of his death — passed with but the briefest acknowledgment of the date.)

I’m not sure why I’ve been taking stock — maybe getting ready for the next part of my life when I have to start dealing with the negative aspects of aging, when I have to deal with being on my own with no one to love or care for, when all that stretches before me is unchartered territory. Meantime, I’m enjoying the peace that comes with knowing I am blessed.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

A Resume Worth Writing

For years, I’ve been doing social networking for a company on a largely volunteer basis. Recently they asked for my resume and were quite miffed when I didn’t send it. The truth is, there is nothing in that potential resume that would help them in any way — it would not affect the work I do, would not change my results, would not even give them any bragging rights if they were trying to get funding since I’m basically self-educated and self-employed.

I’m not sure what they expected to find on that resume. I’ve never set myself up as an expert in online work and promotion. Although I know how to navigate the internet, how to create blogs and profiles on networking ripplessites, even how to develop an online presence, I’m self-taught in this as with everything else in my life, and none of these skills show up anywhere in my work history.

Actually, I’ve never set myself up as an expert in anything. I am what you see. This, to me, is the beauty of the internet, especially blogging. If you are an expert in some facet of life or business, then it makes sense to splash your credentials across cyberspace, but if all you are trying to do — as I am — is to make sense of life, love, relationships, death, purpose, aging, then the only credentials you need are to live, think, write. Online, you are what you do. Your words are who you are. Whatever you are in offline life is immaterial. Failures don’t count. Clothes don’t make the man or woman. Possessions have no substance. Physical limitations disappear. A wall full of degrees doesn’t automatically make you better than the person with a high school education. If you act like an illiterate slob, then that’s who you are. If you act like a grande dame, then that, too, is who you are.

Nowhere else in the world does this sort of egalitarianism exist. I do understand that offline we need those various ways of categorizing people, though now that I think about it, they are just as unimportant offline as online. If you have a car that gets you where you need to go, does it matter what the car is or how much it costs? Outside of your job, does it matter to anyone but you what degrees you have? If your clothes keep you warm, if you enjoy wearing them, does it matter if they are brand names, off-rack, handmade, or thrift store castoffs? If other things in life are more important to you than your bank account, does it matter if you have much money or none at all?

I suppose the problem with the request for my resume is it reminded me that on paper I seem like a failure since so many of my business ventures didn’t work out, but I don’t believe in failure as something separate. It’s all part of life — the good and the bad, the financial successes and fiascos. And more to the point, where on a resume is there a place for life? I loved totally, grieved profoundly, affected many lives, laughed and cried, learned, and even in my deepest sorrow found that life was worth living. Now that’s a resume worth writing!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Bad Luck?

I’ve never considered myself especially lucky. I don’t win contests, though occasionally I do come in second or third. (Most recently, I was a runner-up for the Sharp Writ Book awards in the category of science fiction for my novel Light Bringer.) In group gift exchanges, I always get the gift that no one quite seems to be able to identify or figure out what it does. I seldom win a door prize, and I’ve never won a raffle of any kind.

Today I attended a fundraiser witluckh friends. There were a couple of dozen gift baskets being raffled, and we got to choose which basket(s) we would like to win. I found one basket that only one other person had chosen, so I used all of my raffle tickets for that basket, thinking to up the odds. When I didn’t win, I laughed with my friend about my bad luck, but then on the way home I reconsidered.

Bad luck?

I’d driven to the event center in a 42-year-old car that still runs well, spent the day with good friends and other congenial people, shared smiles and laughter, ate a nice lunch, danced a bit, enjoyed playing with the raffle tickets, and on top of all that, got to help support a good cause.

Seems to me as if I’m very lucky!

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.