Posted in Children, Introspection, jobs, School, Teaching

What Teaching Kindergarten Taught Me

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What Teaching Kindergarten Taught Me:

My teaching career spanned seventeen years.  Ten years teaching high school and seven years teaching kindergarten.  The chasm is not as deep or wide between the two as you might think because a 5-year-old and a 15-year-old have similar behaviors and thought processes.

Some of my most fun and also frightening teaching memories came from my precious kinder kiddos.  The first year I made the switch from high school to kindergarten, I was constantly wondering why.  Why do these kids not stay seated when I ask them to?  Why can’t they line up in a straight line?  The answer was easy….those were two skills I needed to teach them.  Who knew?  As I quickly learned, the first month of kindergarten is solely dedicated to learning processes, systems, and procedures.  How to line up, how to make it to the bathroom on time, and how to work together safely and without a meltdown.

Boogers:     Sniffles, picking and blowing are all things done with the nose or let’s just call it like it is…boogers.  Problems occur when you are not prepared for Booger mania!  For example,  the sneeze felt round the room; or when known nose picker runs up and hugs your legs passing who knows what onto your skirt; or how about when above said nose picker is chosen line leader for the day and gets to hold the teacher’s hand?  I’ve been known to hold the wrist instead, feigning a sore finger.  One must always be vigilant to pickers and be prepared for the unplanned grasp of the hand.  Although it’s not PC, it would be so cool if you could wear disposable gloves while teaching.  Is there any wonder why Kleenex is number one on the school supply list?
Potty talk, potty time and potty problems:    For some reason, pee, poop, and fart are the 3 funniest words any five year old knows.  Just say the word ‘fart’ and you will cause a group of kindergarteners to collapse into giggles, jokes or stories.  For example:  Once during an appraisal by my principal, a whole classroom dissolved with one fart.

On this day at story time, I had my 25 five-year-olds sitting perfectly still on the carpet in front of me.  We were reading a story which I was incorporating into a fabulous English Language Arts lesson on Sequencing:  What comes next in the story.  I was sitting smugly in my chair, 25 sets of eyes were all on me, my Principal was sitting at the back of the room taking notes when all of a sudden, in the quiet pause of the story….a precious little girl farted.  I tried to bite my lip, keep on reading and act like nothing happened, but one moment later a little one from the back of the group asked, “Did you hear that air biscuit?  One after another the group popped up with other statements:  “I did!”  “Who did it?”  “What’s an air biscuit?”  “That wasn’t a biscuit, it was a fart and it smells!”

Picture me calmly (I was really starting to sweat) asking the class to put all eyes back on me and putting my finger to my lips, tried the silent shhhhhh.

Chaos ensued when another child pointed out the culprit…I didn’t want to, but I glanced at the back of the room and saw my principal hysterically laughing and trying to hide his face while his shoulders were uncontrollably shaking.  He politely excused himself and said, “Perhaps I can come back later.”

I never really got it back together after that, so we went outside to run and play and return after a bathroom break, and try it again.  Sequencing lesson:  What happens after a child has a loud air biscuit?  Mayhem.

On most days, my classroom was calm and uneventful.  You know, those days when you wish Norman Rockwell was capturing the essence of your teaching career?  Those seven years in kindergarten were sweet, funny and oh so endearing.  I learned a lot about life.  I learned boogers and farts are funny at any age.  I learned to be more inquisitive, laugh more, see the joy in everyday events and love with all my heart!

Hey, sometimes “poop” happens… but it’s how you deal with it that matters.

 

 

Posted in Aging process, Cajuns, Caring for others, Changes, Children, Friendship, Grandchildren, Grandmother, I love you, Mothers, Outdoors, Parents

Mama Joe’s Mimosa Tree by Ginger Keller Gannaway

Mama Joe’s Mimosa Treemimosa tree

A momma’s love shines through her children, and Mama Joe’s eleven children wonderfully displayed their love for her.  Lizo Vidrine married when she was 15 and she and Joe Latour raised their 11 kids in Ville Platte, Louisiana.  As a kid, I remember going to Mama and PapaJoe’s every week, mostly on Sunday afternoons.  When Dad drove the family from Eunice to Ville Platte my siblings and I played a very lame car game called “Counting Horses” ( that’s a “whole ‘nother Oprah” as one of my good friends would say). We traveled a distance of 17 miles, but to 4 restless kids, it seemed like 77 at least! 

Back then we mostly kissed Mama & Papa hello and then headed to the backyard to mama's familychase Papa’s chickens and eat his scuppernong grapes until he came out yelling at us to leave his chickens alone.  Then we fidgeted inside for 8 or so minutes until Dad gave us each a dime to walk to Mr. Theophile’s tiny store on the corner where we each bought 10 penny candies that were placed in small paper bags.  To get to the store we had to pass Mama’s next door neighbor’s house that would later remind me of Boo Radley’s place.  My sisters and I usually ran when we passed neighbor Gazelle’s because she and her “not-quite-right” daughters lived there with at least 100 cats, and Gazelle yelled at us if she was sitting on the front porch with a gun beneath her chair.  (another Oprah-type tale).

However, many years later, Papa Joe has died and Mama Joe is bedridden and somewhat senile.  Now her seven children who live closest to her have each claimed a day of the week to come take care of her (or pay for a sitter if they cannot come that week).   Usually my momma drives my two sisters and me to visit Mama Joe.  Now the house is quiet and after Gayle, Kelly and I kiss Mama Joe hello in her bed full of pillows, we move to the small living room to read or watch a little t.v.  Momma stays in Mama’s bedroom and time ticks slowly be with the soft sounds of Momma talking to Mama. Later, the sitter arrives and talks with Momma in Cajun French.  Sometimes my sisters and I go outside and pick these hard pears or sour plums from Mama’s trees. Papa Joe had been a gifted gardener, and years earlier he had grown vegetables and fruits galore in his extensive garden.  Gayle remembers when he pulled a carrot from the ground once and handed her the best carrot she has ever tasted!

Mama Joe’s yard also had this mimosa tree I really loved.  Its beautiful softness, the feathery green leaves, with the flowers that looked like pink dandelions remind me now of my grandmother’s soft, strong beauty. Mimosa trees produce fragile, sweet blossoms in the late spring that attract butterflies and birds and that also contrast with the tree’s tough nature.   According to some gardening websites, mimosas do well in droughts and heat, which explains their abundance along southern highways.  Also, they produce these elongated seedpods that drop and spread their “offspring” far and wide.  The Japanese call mimosas the “sleeping tree” because their leaves gently fold for the night.  Like the mimosa tree, Mama Joe had a strong, calm beauty that mixed the Cajun Vidrine in her with the Native American blood my momma always claimed she had. (“Your mama’s great-great grandmother was an Indian princess, for real!”)  Also, her eleven seedpods heeded the Catholic directive  to “go forth and multiply” well. Mama and Papa Joe had 48 grandchildren and over 60 great-grandchildren and I don’t know how many great-grandchildren since the Latours are still healthily multiplying. 

Overall, Mama Joe was a sweet, smiling & laughing Cajun who married at age 15 and raised a family of 11, who only spoke Cajun French until her son P.J. married Polly (an amazing woman from California),  and so she learned to speak English to welcome a new member of her family, who cooked rice and gravy like a top chef, who loved life and good times almost as much as she loved all of her many children and their children, and their children’s children, and so on.  All Mama Joe gave forth was love and joy which she taught my own mother, Geraldine, to do for her 4 children, who then did her best to teach me to do for my 3 boys.  Like the mimosa tree, may all mothers continue to spread strong, soft feathery blossoms of love for their own seedpods.

mama joe1
PaPa and Mama Joe

Thank you to Uncle Jack (Mama’s baby) and Aunt Faye for helping me with some Mama Joe details!

Posted in Children, Motherless daughters, Mothers, Parents

The Dichotomy of Motherhood

Happy Mother's Day

 

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”―     Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

For some reason, this quote from Charles Dickens reminds me of motherhood, at least my pilgrimage to and through motherhood.   Being a mother is the most fulfilling, heartwarming, satisfying, inspiring, God-given gift in the world. Sometimes though, it can break your heart.  Being a mother means you are vulnerable and open and approachable, which in turn means that you can be hurt. Only a mother could cry through a long night only to see the dawn with a joyful, hopeful expectation, ready to love again.

Mothers have their own special cheering section in Heaven.  Mothers know things dads will never know.  Mothers are capable of experiencing the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  A mother is eternal.

Please accept these thoughts on motherhood; these words of description; these parallels of dichotomy; this attempt at explanation of the wonders of motherhood.

Watching….Waiting

Smiling….Crying

Heartwarming….Heartbreaking

Fun-filled….Fearful

Laughing….Leaping

Holding….Hating

Bearing….Bothering

Loving….Languishing

Exhilarated….Exhausted

Wonder….Wander

Capturing….Catapulting

Peaceful….Perplexing

Enveloping….Enabling

Helping….Hindering

Love…….Plain and simple

 

Happy Mother’s Day everyone, no matter what path led you to motherhood.  

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who has loved a child with all of your heart.

Happy Mother’s Day to those who have loved and lost and those who lost their mother along the way.  We are all the same….we who love…we understand each other…

Our blood flows coarsely through our veins and our hearts beat as one.

Happy Mother’s Day!

 

Posted in Cajuns, Friendship, Grandchildren, Grandmother, jobs, movie theater, movies, picture show

Working at the Picture Show by Ginger Keller Gannaway

liberty center

At age 13, I began my job in the family’s movie business at the Liberty Theater in Eunice, Louisiana.  I worked the concession stand at my grandma’s picture show.  Grandpa Keller had opened it in 1924 and had in later years owned 5 movie theaters in a town of about 10,000.

In 1969 when I started my picture show career, my grandpa had died and my Uncle Jake and Aunt Rose managed both the Liberty and the Queen Cinema. Even though I was his niece (and a star concession worker), Uncle Jake terrified me. Frowning and growling were his favored forms of communication with his employees.  One Sunday afternoon my dad picked me up from an afternoon swim at the local city pool “to go work at the show” because the matinee that day had drawn a bigger crowd than expected.  Dad rushed me to the Liberty to help out.   I  jumped from the pool, quickly dressed and showed up with a still-dripping ponytail to start boxing popcorn and waiting on the long line of costumers.  When Uncle Jake showed up to check on his employees, I felt pride inside for being such a loyal worker. He emitted a soft snarl to get my attention and grumbled, “Ya look like a drowned rat.”

Luckily for me (and my fellow workers), Uncle Jake did not routinely check up on us at the show. So most of the time, concession stand work was a groovy gig.  Opening up routines included wheeling the wooden carols that held the candy bars out of a storage closet and checking the Baby Ruths and Butterfingers for random rat bites.  Then we pulled out large plastic bags filled with the previous night’s leftover popcorn. This stale stuff would then be mixed in with the day’s fresh popcorn. (Is this a normal practice in movie theaters, or was my uncle cheap as well as grouchy?) Next, we’d get money from the box office lady to start our shift with. Later we’d go back to Mrs. Pearl (our favorite) or Mrs. Fontenot (a bit fussy) for extra nickels, quarters, or dollar bills as the need arose.

We’d time popcorn popping with the film’s starting times since the smell lured in popcorn-1433326_960_720more customers.  Most days the work came in spurts – the 15 minutes before the movie began. And since the Liberty had only one screen, that meant only two busy times a night (week-end had more because of the double feature specials). Once a movie began, only the random harried mom with a squirrelly lil one or a bored teenager with a sweet tooth bothered us concession workers.  On slow week nights I always had a book to read, and I’d sometimes kill time with the teenaged  ticket-taker/ usher boy .

The job paid a slim $1.25 an hour, but it did include the perk of getting in free to movies.  However, as a Keller I already saw all movies for free, so I added a perk of my own.  I’d sometimes take candy bars to share with friends at school the day after one of my shifts.  I’d even “take orders” from some of my closest friends or a cute guy I was crushin’ on.   (“Hey, get me a couple of Milky Ways, will ya?”)

One of my favorite things about working at the show was that super-fine ice we used for the soft drinks.  Since workers unofficially got free drinks during our shifts, I’d pack my 8 oz. paper cup to the rim with that heavenly ice and then fill it with the best Dr. Pepper on the planet.  I think the syrup content on our soda machine was set too high, so our drinks were sweet, sweet.  And when a blockbuster like MASH or Patton was showing and we sweated to keep the popcorn popping and the masses served before the opening credits, a super-icy, super-sweet beverage never tasted better!

The jobs only 3 hazards were: 1.  Getting burned while making popcorn or cleaning the antique machine   2. Getting the stink eye or criticism from my uncle (“Quit over-filling the popcorn boxes; don’t make the sides pooch-out.” or “Put more ice in those drink cups!”)   3. Running out of popcorn during a rush.

For the four and a half years I worked at the “Liberty Thayter” (as Mrs. Fontenot would say), my good times far outweighed my bad times.  I was surrounded by folks who liked watching movies, talking about movies, and sharing movies. Often the usher, my fellow concession gal, and even the ticket-taker lady (especially sweet and witty Mrs. Pearl) discussed a movie’s good points, bad points,  or its message. Like the circus worker who shoveled elephant poop responded when asked why he didn’t leave such a shitty job. “What?? And give up show business?!”liberty at night

 

Posted in Changes, Introspection, Work ethic

Beginnings and Endings

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Beginnings and Endings:

Where you begin is not always where you end.  I had a job on weekends and in the summer from the time I turned sixteen until I landed my first teaching gig.

One of my first high school jobs was at Meyers Family Fried Chicken in Amarillo, Texas.  I was the hostess with the mostess on weekends!  “How many?”  “High chair or booster?”  “Booth or table?”  “  Follow me please.”

Meyers Family Fried Chicken was, as you guessed, geared toward family.  It had a train track mounted at the top of the walls by the ceiling and a locomotive with a long train that ran continuously everyday, from open to close.  

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My time there was pretty non-descript, except when a customer would request a certain waitress or to sit by the window.  When that happened, it would cause tip inequality and sometimes overwork or not enough work for the waitresses.   This, in turn, would cause huffing and puffing and sideways glances at the Hostess.   Although the policy was to make the customer happy, I was less popular than usual when a demanding patron put us out of rotation.  I think Meyers and I parted ways after one year.

My most favorite job in high school was at Montgomery Ward in the Western Plaza.  I breezed through training with flying colors and high scores because I could run the register and count back change with speed and accuracy.  All this awarded me the prestigious title of “Floater,” meaning every time I clocked into work, I had to stop by HR to see what department needed help.

I managed to land a coveted temporary position in the Electronics Department when a full-time/part-time person went on maternity leave.  The Electronics Dept. sold T.V.’s, record players, radios and records.  You know, LP’s and 45’s.  I was in heaven, mainly because cute boys would occasionally wander in looking at records and I could approach with a big smile and ask, “May I help you?”SCAN0006 (2)

 

My other department stents were not as glamorous nor as successful.  Once, while helping out in shoes, I sent customers home with two different shoes in the same box.  (not a matched pair)  And there was one fateful Saturday in the Candy Dept….I’m not sure why, but I never got the hang of scooping, measuring correctly, and bagging.  On Saturday’s it would be flush with harried parents, crying kids, and ‘hangry’ (hungry and angry) customers.  I never “floated” back after that one time.

My employment background boasts of teaching swimming lessons and lifeguarding at the YMCA;  one summer at Glorieta Baptist Church Camp, working in the Chuck Wagon, making donuts; and two summers in college, as a secretary at an insurance company.

Isn’t it fascinating to look back and see that where you began is not always where you end?  How was I to know at sixteen that the skills and customer interactions then would serve me well later as an educator?  How could I possibly have known that weekends and summers wouldn’t hold a candle to Monday through Friday for 36 years?

Certainly, where I began was not where I ended.  But, it shaped me and molded me and taught me about life and the virtues of an honest day’s work.  So, to that I must say:  “Thank you, Meyer’s Family Fried Chicken!”,  “Gracias! Montgomery Ward!”, and “Much obliged! Chuck Wagon!”

You taught me well!

Posted in Introspection, Photography

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

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There’s something about taking pictures.  It connects you with the human race…  It gives you a mind’s eye view of the world… Shows the window to the soul…Tells a story…Frees the imagination…Captures the truth.

It is a universal language.  Everyone loves to see themselves in photographs and to see photos of people and things that they love.  When I am behind my camera, I see the greater good, the brightest color, the person behind the eyes, and the wonder of all God’s creatures.  There is nothing that rivals that feeling.

Wherever I go, when I take my camera, I am transported to another dimension!  Strangers are drawn to me and want me to take their picture, or ask me to use their camera to take their picture.  Once on a trip to Mardi Gras’, I began taking pictures during a street dance.  Soon, couples I didn’t know and would never see again,  danced by and posed, wanting me to capture their revelry.  I must have taken 300 pictures in a two-hour span.   Photography breaks down barriers and builds relationships.

When I was 10 years old, my dad let me take a camera to Girl Scout camp.  It was a Brownie.  Brownie Cameras were boxed shaped and you looked down through the top to find your subject.  The film had to be threaded through the inside maze until it clicked into place.  I thought it was fabulous.kodak-860732__340

 Through the years I have had the Brownie, Polaroid, Instamatic, Digital and of course disposable!  After I retired, I purchased a Nikon 3100 and began my true love affair with photography.  I have, of course, chronicled our family’s growth, events, and trips,  but I have also been fortunate enough to capture some glorious sights.. and here are just a few.

197Outside of Denver at Buffalo Bill’s Grave!017Kerrville, Texas

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My beloved Maine!086Peek-a-boo Kitty

071San Antonio Zoo

029Cuerro, Texas

Sunset was taken courtesy of God and Galveston!

 

Posted in Friendship

Snapshots of my Life by Ginger Keller Gannaway

I have loved taking pictures all my life; however, I’m a crappy photographer.  A “good” friend once declared that most of my pictures are blurry or off-center.  Ok…ok, I own my limited skills with my camera phone, yet I still treasure snapshots of family vacations, huge holidays, and everyday moments.  Remember the “wabi sabi” philosophy  (embrace life’s imperfections) as you view these Snapshots of my Life.

Gerry & RA relaxing in Gubbio, Italy:pic2

 

My Boys (Evanator, Caseman, Shaner) on a Pensacola beachmy boys pic

 

Best I’ve ever looked in a bathing suit!

vintage beach

 

Alhambra Palace in Granada, Spain with Gayle, Kelly, and MommaSpain pic

 

Yosemite good times for my 3 boys and their cousins (John, Matt, and Dan Gilmer)

yosemite pic

 

Watermelon Times with me, Mama, and a mischievous Ryan Kellerwatermelon.jpg

 

School Days at St. Edmunds (Emile, Ginger, Gayle, Kelly)school pic

 

The Weight of a Dad!funny family

 

Christmas with Big Santa Clause in Eunice!santa

Kelly Ann under a moss-covered Louisiana tree:

kelly
 Kelly Ann under a moss-covered Louisiana tree
Posted in Aging process, Exercise, Introspection, Old Age, Pets

Walking my Butt by Ginger Keller Gannaway

Walking my Buttmillies butt

Let me be clear.  I do not enjoy exercise!  I fear weights, treadmills, and machines with names like elliptical.  I avoid any sort of exercise class because the idea of staying in step or keeping time with a roomful of moving bodies makes me sweat more than actually exercising ever could.

However, I will go for a walk.  Mostly I walk my dog. Mostly to give her a sense of freedom and the chance to smell the roses, my neighbors’ lawns, a random piece of trash, another’s dog’s butt, or a dried-up pile of poop.  My walks are mostly for Millie, but they are also a bit for me…specifically for my oversized booty!

Walking my Butt

I’m walking my butt,
Walking my butt,
Walking my big fat butt.

Birds gossip and squeak;owl
Squirrels scamper and peek.
Is nature judging me?
Do they even see
My big fat butt?

No, no, no, no way.
‘Cause my dog just sniffs and squats.
Another short squirt on another lil sprout.
She stops, she pulls, she pauses
To give my butt a kind of rest.

millie and me
So nature really doesn’t care
about my feet, my butt, my hair.
It’s my own so critical eye
that makes me wanna cry, so…

I’m walking my butt,
Walking my butt,
Walking my big fat butt.

Posted in Friendship

Walk Talk

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For years now, I have gone for a walk almost every day.   I tie my tennis shoes, grab my sunglasses and head out the door.  It’s therapeutic and even spiritual in nature.  I need it and evidently so do others.  Through the years I have encountered different types of walkers and have developed certain categories, if you will.  Below are just a few of these walkers…see if you recognize anyone you know.

 

The Serious Walker:  Eyes straight ahead, purposeful arm swing, long stride…..no nonsense…’get er’ done’.   This walker may not speak even if you say good morning or hello..they are on a mission! These walkers generally have good tennis shoes and suitable attire.

 

The Dog Walker:  This type varies from the laid back walker who lets their pooch sniff and tinkle at will, to the run/walker whose dog is one with the owner!  The run/walker/and dog seem to enjoy the discipline…eyes forward..steady movement, and sporty outfits, whereas the laid back walker is sometimes on his phone, multitasking a chat and potty patrol, while frequently donning their work clothes and shoes, or worse….pajamas.  (a dead give away)  

 

The Walker Talker: These walkers don’t want to be alone!  They usually are seen in two’s and occasionally a ‘pack’ or even a ‘gaggle’.  To these social beings, the heart-to-heart chat is almost more important than the walk.  The walker talkers show commitment, enthusiasm, and encouragement.  Through the years, I have had only a few dear friends like this.  Walker talkers are a special breed indeed.  *cute outfits optional, but certainly appreciated!

 

The “I Hate to Walk But I Have To” Walker:  These poor walkers look bored, tired and MAD!  They look down or straight ahead and never acknowledge anyone else.  They avoid walker talkers at all costs and generally do not wear workout clothes.  The “I Hate to Walk” walkers most likely have a spouse or doctor who is encouraging their exercise!  They may be walking, but they certainly don’t have to like it!

 

The Stalker Talker Walker:  I have personally encountered this walker many times in my neighborhood.   This walker is (a.)  A talker and  (b.)  Wants to talk whether you do or not.  For example:  I had happened upon this walker several times and did engage in polite conversation; however, I kept moving.  Then, I noticed that he just happened to be walking at the same time I was and would even cross two streets to come over to speak.  I had to up-my-game by keeping a vigilant eye out, so that I could change directions if need be, to avoid “the chat”.  Sometimes he would be talking as he walked toward me and then say, “I’ll walk with you”.  Oh, my!  This person is a sweet, older gentleman who is uber friendly and means no harm, however, he IS a Stalker Talker Walker!  Beware!

 

The Barbie or Ken Walker (aka Sporty Spice):  These walkers have a certain MO:  great looking outfits; expensive tennies; matching visor or hat; earphones and always a Fitbit or Apple watch to check their progress and status. They usually keep a fast pace and rarely speak…they only nod.

 

The ‘Baby on Board’ Walker:  These walkers could go a number of ways:  a mom trying to do it all by pushing a stroller or double stroller and having a dog on a leash, while trying to walk or jog;  Sometimes you will see a super tired parent out early in the morning trying to take baby for a stroll just to stop the crying or get a break! They may be drinking coffee and/or checking their phones;   And of course, there are the super parents who are going for their run/walk no matter what!   These parents are usually pushing a double stroller and the kids are eating snacks or watching a movie.  The stroller I used in 1978 would never have made it!!

 

Did any of these descriptions remind you of someone or even yourself?

No matter what type walker you are or type walker you observe, we’re all just trying our best to get out there and bust a move! Don’t be intimidated, mad or too serious to stop and smell the roses….just keep walking the talk or talking the walk, whichever one you choose!

Keep movin and groovin!

 

Posted in Exercise, Friendship, Outdoors, People

Walk Talk

DSC_0001

For years now, I have gone for a walk almost every day.   I tie my tennis shoes, grab my sunglasses and head out the door.  It’s therapeutic and even spiritual in nature.  I need it and evidently so do others.  Through the years I have encountered different types of walkers and have developed certain categories if you will.  Below are just a few of these walkers…see if you recognize anyone you know.

The Serious Walker:  Eyes straight ahead, purposeful arm swing, long stride…..no nonsense…’get er’ done’.   This walker may not speak even if you say good morning or hello..they are on a mission! These walkers generally have good tennis shoes and suitable attire.

The Dog Walker:  This type varies from the laid back walker who lets their pooch sniff and tinkle at will, to the run/walker whose dog is one with the owner!  The run/walker/and dog seem to enjoy the discipline…eyes forward..steady movement, and sporty outfits, whereas the laid back walker is sometimes on his phone, multitasking a chat and potty patrol, while frequently donning their work clothes and shoes, or worse….pajamas.  (a dead give away)  

The Walker Talker: These walkers don’t want to be alone!  They usually are seen in two’s and occasionally a ‘pack’ or even a ‘gaggle’.  To these social beings, the heart-to-heart chat is almost more important than the walk.  The walker talkers show commitment, enthusiasm, and encouragement.  Through the years, I have had only a few dear friends like this.  Walker talkers are a special breed indeed.  *cute outfits optional, but certainly appreciated!

The “I Hate to Walk But I Have To” Walker:  These poor walkers look bored, tired and MAD!  They look down or straight ahead and never acknowledge anyone else.  They avoid walker talkers at all costs and generally do not wear workout clothes.  The “I Hate to Walk” walkers most likely have a spouse or doctor who is encouraging their exercise!  They may be walking, but they certainly don’t have to like it!

The Stalker Talker Walker:  I have personally encountered this walker many times in my neighborhood.   This walker is (a.)  A talker and  (b.)  Wants to talk whether you do or not.  For example:  I had happened upon this walker several times and did engage in polite conversation; however, I kept moving.  Then, I noticed that he just happened to be walking at the same time I was and would even cross two streets to come over to speak.  I had to up-my-game by keeping a vigilant eye out, so that I could change directions if need be, to avoid “the chat”.  Sometimes he would be talking as he walked toward me and then say, “I’ll walk with you”.  Oh, my!  This person is a sweet, older gentleman who is uber friendly and means no harm, however, he IS a Stalker Talker Walker!  Beware!

The Barbie or Ken Walker (aka Sporty Spice):  These walkers have a certain MO:  great looking outfits; expensive tennies; matching visor or hat; earphones and always a Fitbit or Apple watch to check their progress and status. They usually keep a fast pace and rarely speak…they only nod.

The ‘Baby on Board’ Walker:  These walkers could go a number of ways:  a mom trying to do it all by pushing a stroller or double stroller and having a dog on a leash, while trying to walk or jog;  Sometimes you will see a super tired parent out early in the morning trying to take baby for a stroll just to stop the crying or get a break! They may be drinking coffee and/or checking their phones;   And of course, there are the super parents who are going for their run/walk no matter what!   These parents are usually pushing a double stroller and the kids are eating snacks or watching a movie.  The stroller I used in 1978 would never have made it!!

Did any of these descriptions remind you of someone or even yourself?No matter what type walker you are or type walker you observe, we’re all just trying our best to get out there and bust a move! Don’t be intimidated, mad or too serious to stop and smell the roses….just keep walking the talk or talking the walk, whichever one you choose!

Keep movin and groovin!