Carry‑Ons, Chaos, and One Very Unhinged Passenger

 

Listening to my favorite morning show, The Bob and Sherri Show, Sherri was talking about airplane behavior. She’d been on a flight trying to get some work done on her laptop. The guy in front of her—a gamer with a headset—was deeply into whatever he was playing. 

Sherri said that despite the stereotype of gamers being quiet, sedentary creatures, this one was basically conducting a full-body workout. At one point he launched himself backward with such force that her cell phone flew off the tray table and landed squarely above her eyebrow.

She tried, very politely, to ask if he could maybe dial it down a little and he did just a smidge. But she didn’t push these days, you never know which stranger on a plane is one seat recline from going nuts.

About a year ago, my daughter and I had our own run‑in with questionable airplane behavior on a flight from Boston. I hadn’t flown in quite a while, so I was already a little out of practice. The plane landed, everyone started the usual shuffle of gathering their belongings, and my daughter and I were quietly standing in the aisle with our carry‑ons, waiting for our turn to de‑plane.

The woman in the row ahead of us suddenly turned around and began lecturing me—full volume—about the “proper etiquette” for getting off an airplane. Before I could even process that, she climbed onto her seat to reach the overhead bin, and in the process swung her bag down directly onto my head. Under my breath I muttered something about manners and not hitting people in the head, and my daughter quietly added that this woman needed to get over herself.

That was all it took. She absolutely lost it. She shoved ahead of us, marched straight to the exit, and complained about me to the captain and the flight attendant as if she were reporting a federal crime. My daughter and I just kept walking, choosing not to engage because we had no interest in escalating whatever… performance she was giving.

But she wasn’t done. Oh no. She then cornered the ramp attendant and started spewing a fresh round of wild accusations. I caught his eye, gave a small, weary shake of my head, and kept moving. Honestly, I could not believe what had just unfolded.

In the end, my daughter and I just looked at each other, shook our heads, and kept moving. Some people bring carry‑ons, some bring snacks, and some apparently bring full‑blown chaos — and that day, we wanted no part of it.

Honestly, I still shake my head when I think about it. It made me wonder how many other people have had their own run‑ins with airborne theatrics. Have any of you experienced something like this on a flight? I'd like to hear about it.

Read in Silence, Connect in Spirit

 

What could be better than spending an hour of your day tucked into a good book. I confess—I’m a “bookie.” Not the kind who takes bets, but the kind who loves stories, lives inside sentences, and reads with the enthusiasm of someone who always needs just one more chapter. I’m fairly certain bookie has never been used this way, but I like it, so I’m claiming it. Of course, I could call myself a bibliophile, that lovely term for someone who loves and collects books for their beauty or their ideas. Or maybe I’m simply your classic, run‑of‑the‑mill bookworm.

Recently, I stumbled across an article about Silent Book Clubs.

The Silent Book Club is a global reading movement that reimagines the traditional book club—no assigned reading, no pressure to perform, and absolutely no required discussion. Affectionately known as “Introvert Happy Hour,” it’s popping up in cities around the world. Founded by Laura Gluhanich and Guinevere de la Mare, the club celebrates the simple joy of reading for its own sake. It’s been praised by Oprah, featured on NPR, and embraced by readers who crave connection without conversation. Which leads to the natural question: what exactly is a Silent Book Club?

Here is the jest:

• You Bring Your Own Book (BYOBook): Members show up with whatever they’re currently reading, all genres welcome.

•You start the meeting with a bit of chit chat, and then everyone reads quietly for an hour

• You conclude the meeting with each participant briefly talking about their books—or not. No pressure.

I think this idea has real merit. It could be a gentle mix‑and‑mingle for book lovers, a space where people can grab a cuppa and maybe something sweet, then settle in with whatever they’re reading. A brief “book discussion” at the end of the hour becomes an easy way to meet new people—you already know everyone in the room shares a love of reading. There’s no pressure, no deadlines, no analysis required. It’s the perfect blend of solitude and community, ideal for introverts or anyone craving quiet connection. And the best part: you can read absolutely anything you want.

Meetings can happen anywhere—a bookstore, a coffee bar, the library, even a park.

In the end, it’s less about the location and more about the feeling—settling in with your book, surrounded by others doing the same, no expectations, no performance. Just a quiet hour that fills your cup in more ways than one.

In the end, it’s less about the location and more about the feeling—settling in with your book, surrounded by others doing the same, no requirements, no expectations. Just a quiet hour that fills your cup in more ways than one. And honestly, I’m seriously considering starting a Silent Book Club of my own. i might call it a Bingle for books and a mingle. A little community, a little solitude, and a shared love of stories feels like exactly the kind of ritual worth creating.

The Weight of What was

I have spoken about Reese Witherspoon Book Club picks. Her books usually spotlight women centered books, and Broken Country is no exception. 

Beth Kennedy lives a quiet life with her kind husband Frank, but everything changes when her brother-in-law shoots a dog that belonged to Gabriel Wolfe—Beth’s teenage love who mysteriously reappears in the village with his son Leo.

Gabriel’s return stirs up buried emotions and unresolved grief, especially surrounding the tragic death of Beth’s son, Bobby. As tensions rise, a murder investigation unfolds, and Beth is forced to confront the woman she once was and the choices that shaped her life.

I chose this book as my pick for my book club.  I thought the story and deep emotions would resonate with the members of the book club.  While I loved the book, they did not.  They specifically did not like the way Frank (Beth's Husband) was treated  

For me, the novel’s strength lies with its ability to cover complicated emotions: loyalty and longing, grief and renewal, the versions of ourselves we outgrow and the ones we can’t quite leave behind. Beth’s journey isn’t neat, but it feels honest, and that honesty stayed with me long after I turned the last page. In the end, I’m glad I chose it. Even disagreement sparked good conversation, and sometimes that’s the real gift of a book club pick.

The Space Between Here and What Comes Next

 

I just got off the phone with my cousin. Technically she’s a cousin by marriage, but to me she’s simply my cousin. When I first married my husband, the welcome wagon did not exactly come rolling up to my door. except for his cousin Carol and her mom, Helen. They were the two who quietly took me aside and gave me the 411.

I was very lucky to have them both in my life. Even though we didn’t live close by, we still managed to see them once a year and keep up with regular phone calls, and the relationship blossomed.

Sadly, Carol has just been placed in hospice.  After talking with her or rather me talking and her listening, it is apparent she has hours to live.  I hope that they are keeping her Very comfortable and passing will be as peaceful as possible.  I not sure that will be happening, but I am hoping so.

As I spoke with Carol, I found myself wondering what was going through her mind. Was she wandering back through the memories we had just revisited, or was she facing the possibility that the next time she drifted into sleep, she might not wake again? That she might not see me, or hear my voice, or share another laugh with me. Was she sad or resigned?

I imagine that at the edge of life, your thoughts might center around the people you’ll miss, the moments you wish you could stretch just a little longer. And maybe, too, you think about the ones you’ve already lost, the ones you might soon be joining.

This life may be drawing to a close, but I keep thinking of something I once read: that death isn’t an ending so much as a turning of the page, a quiet step towards another level of being.

I live in a 55+ community. It wasn’t my first choice for retirement living, not because it isn’t a wonderful place, but because I’m surrounded by people who, like me, are getting a little older. Aging has a way of reminding you that there are more years behind you than ahead, and the body doesn’t always cooperate with the plan. You do the things you’re supposed to do, exercise, eat well, try to stay healthy. But in the end, it feels like your body just shrugs and carries on with its own agenda.

So here we are, all of us doing our best to outsmart our own biology. Some days we win, some days our knees win. But at least we’re in good company.