Open Letter To Armchair Meteorologists

                                            A perfect Gulf of Mexico day. 

Dear Folx Who post every damn Spaghetti Model of Storms in the Gulf. 

Damn, I feel like I write this letter every year at this time. 

I know you are trying to help by keeping your social media contacts abreast of things stirring in the Atlantic, and perhaps some people are either thankful or indifferent to your sharing of these " predictions". 

But for the sake of all that is good, please remember that it does nothing but cause stress and panic for people who suffer from anxiety. 

My priest has a saying that she taught me " Don't borrow trouble."  I've discovered that this simple three-word mantra helps me think more clearly through parts of life {such as named storms} that usually cause my anxiety to skyrocket. 

Again, I know you are posting these with good intentions.  But to keep myself sane, I will " snooze" any armchair storm predictors for this month. It really is NOT you-- it is me with my storm anxiety and my resolve to not borrow ay storm trouble.

 If the officials actually warn the public to prepare for a named storm to it the Greater Pensacola area, I will do so. I'm not naive, but neither can I both maintain my sanity {what little sanity I still possess after COVID's worst two years} My spouse and I know how to get all our storm gear in order, and we actually bought some more bottled water-- it is on sale right now at our Winn-Dixie. We prepare. Brian is a native Floridian and has lived near the Gulf of Mexico most of his life. I trust his instinct about storms. 

We all know that " Sally" threw us a meteorological curve ball. But in retrospect, all the signs of a storm heading in this direction were there-- but many people were hit ill-prepared. I understand the fear, but after over 20 years of living here I know that the best anecdote to storm fear is steady preparations. 

Get {and keep} supplies of food, water, and medication. IF, a storm enters the Gulf, stock up on gasoline for a generator. 

Do not-- DO NOT rely on social media for storm track information. I've discovered that the NOAA web site has the most accurate and up-to-date storm " predictions" available to everyone. 

To my loved ones who live elsewhere and see these armchair predictions: please reach out to me if you are concerned. Also, please remember that Florida's Gulf Coast is large, and that Pensacola is THE westernmost city in the state. {the joke is that the Pensacola region is really Lower Alabama} Sharpies alone cannot move Pensacola closer to Tampa/St Petersburg. 

We appreciate your concern, but please look on Google Maps if you are unfamiliar with Florida's Gulf Coast. 

I love you all, and I want us all to avoid borrowing storm trouble. There is plenty else to discuss on social media and in real life. 

Peace,

Sarah McCarren

9/22/22

End " Dress-Coding" #BansOffOurBodies

 

                                           Mid-forties and PROUDLY wearing a short skirt. Poto by Brian 

 I came across an interesting article a couple of days ago while aimlessly scrolling the Internet. It deals with an issue that affected me in school. 

Here is the link:

‘Our bodies aren’t distracting, you’re just disgusting’: High school student calls out school dress code for being sexist during assembly (msn.com)

Girls and women have been " dress-coded" at school and at work for far too many years. Contrary to popular opinion, this is NOT a " new wave feminist" issue--- imposing unfair and often arbitrary regulations on female people's clothing is nothing new. 

As a slender person with long arms and legs, my choice of clothing has always been sanctioned. As a matter of fact, most of my visits to my high school's vice principal {a real toad of a woman} were related to skirt/ shorts length.  Due to my long limbs, the " fingertip rule" made most fashionable skirts and almost ALL' shorts not appropriate for school'

Meanwhile 1990's teen males were sagging their pants so that their brightly colored boxer shorts were in full view from 100 feet away. For boys, underwear as outerwear was fine, but a tall, long-limbed girl was sanctioned for wearing a skirt. 

This practice is rooted is misogyny. Some people claim that girls' and women's bodies must be covered completely as to not tempt the boys and men. I call bullshit. 

Yes, a nice pair of legs is aesthetically pleasing. But stop making me pay the price for grown men who cannot control their thoughts in public. What a woman chooses to wear DOES NOT invite unwanted attention from male persons. Furthermore, it is NEVER OKAY to ask a victim of sexual violence what she was wearing at the time of the assault. It's NEVER okay. Again, for the hard of hearing in the back: Its NEVER OKAY to ask an assault victim what she wore at the time of her attack. This is victim-blaming. 

But for the sake of all that is good--- please STOP eroticizing teen girls!!!  Let them be teenagers who feel safe and validated by choosing their own wardrobe 

At middle-age, I am grateful that I can confidently wear shirt skirts. Frankly, I do not care if people clutch their pearl when tey see this " old gal" showing off her toned legs in a short skirt. 

My choice of a casual wardrobe does not directly affect you. 

Amen

Sarah McCarren

17 September 2022

Feast of St Hildegard. 

Quotable Quote of The Year : Joining The Table

                                             

     Anyone who knows me at all knows that I am totally " fangirling" {is this even a word... at any rate it is now} over Mariska Hargitay. I've been a faithful viewer of Law and Order: SVU since its premiere season back in 1999. I'd just moved to Florida less than a year, and still felt like I was flailing around anchorless. The character of " Olivia Benson" and I grew up together. 

 I don't " fangirl" often, but the more I learn about my favorite actress, the more I want to {somehow and someday} meet her in person. Unlike a lot of Hollywood actresses, Mariska Hargitay embraces ageing. She's in her late-50's and wears her more mature years well. Of course, it helps that her parents were Jayne Mansfield {Sorry, Marilyn shippers, I'm Team Jayne} and { Mr Universe} Mickey Hargitay-- she hit the gene pool jackpot. 

Anyway, when scrolling my Twitter account on Sunday, I came across this quote by my favorite actress: 

" I used to think that everyone was better than me, Now I know what I bring to the table." 

Yes. Yes. Yes. 

This quote summarizes most of my experience here in Pensacola. For years, I felt like I did not belong, that I am inherently flawed-- that God made some joke on humanity by creating me as They did. To my credit, I am 100 percent resilient, and I learned to at least find a place at the corner of the Table of Life.  I worked hard to blend in and not make waves, a skill I developed in middle and high school in order to hide from bullies. Heck, most of the time I felt content to not be invited to the table, because I knew people could not accept my full self. 

It was lonely. 

It wasn't until Brian and I made the big move to Pensacola that I broke out of my shell enough to let people see my full self. Finding a faith community where I {and everyone else} is AFFIRMED is a big part of my newfound confidence. Not long-ago Brian and I discussed what it means to be " welcoming" versus really AFFIRMING people who might not fit our mold-- especially in Christian circles. 

here is an article on affirming versus welcoming that explains the difference between two similar, but distinct adjectives. 

We can WELCOME people into our lives & communities, as long as they ' know their place'. 

We AFFIRM someone when we see their full self and integrate them fully into our personal/common lives. 

Feeling invisible, or worse--- feeling totally unwanted, in a faith community hurts. This can be something as arbitrary as age and/or gender-- some communities cannot or will not see younger women as bringing anything of value to the table. However, if one's spouse is a man of a certain age, he's clearly invited to the table. 

Invisibility sucks. I'm glad I am not invisible, but many others wait silently and hope-full, as I did. 

Knowing that I am loved just as God made me and affirmed in my community is such a blessing. yet I speak from points of privilege: I am White, cis-gendered and middle-class.  My challenge is: How can we make all persons feel affirmed, knowing that their presence at the table will enrich everyone? 

Amen. 

Sarah McCarren

September 13 2022 

Feast Of the Holy Cross

 

Where Were You: Sarah's Story

                                                    Remembering....

Every year, I feel like I rewrite the same damn thing. On this eve of the attacks on our nation's soil on September 11, 2001, I once again recall my own story of where I was and what I felt. We all have these stories-- this is akin to the attacks on Pearl Harbor for The Greatest Generation. 

I'll give the Cliff's Notes version. 

It was my last semester at the University of West Florida. I was walking in late to a class, and I noticed that the professor was not yet there {she used to glare at me when I was late for the 8 o'clock class} Confused, I asked a classmate where the teacher might be. The classmate replied" She's in her office crying. Planes attacked the Twin Towers in New York" {I'm paraphrasing, as I do not remember exactly what this conversation entailed.} 

I walked to the University Commons, where I knew I could see a big-screen TV. Students, faculty and staff were crowded around the TV and silently listened in horror as Katie Couric reported on the chaos.  I'd seen enough, I went to the public phone {yes, I'm that old} and called my parents. Dad agreed to come to campus and pick me up. 

Later we learned that another plane hit The Pentagon, and that a third plane, aimed for The White House, had been diverted and crashed in a field in southwestern Pennsylvania. 

While the events which we'll remember tomorrow were surely horrible, at least the perpetuators were people of known hostile nations. The horror of this day twenty-two years ago tomorrow united Americans of all stripes. For once in my lifetime, the hope Christ gives us seemed close to a reality: 

"There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" Galatians 3:28. 

Twenty-two years later I am older, somewhat wiser, and remembering another horror that occurred on January 6, 2021. I watched, feeling utterly helpless, as Americans stormed our Capitol city in a violent insurrection.

My question is: How can we find that unity-- as Americans and as humans-- that was felt in the immediate days following the attacks of September 2001?  How can we see each other as Christ sees us-- as members of the human family? 

 How can we come together and {eventually} move beyond the severe polarization that is the reality now? After two years of a pandemic, it would make sense for people to want to come together again. yet I see nothing but division. Even within local members of my own political party recently, we had division that sparked some online and real-life drama. 

We. Need. To. Act. Like Grown-ups. 

Tomorrow I will honor those we lost in the attacks on our nation in September 2001. Additionally, I'll remember the survivors-- those people still living among us where were at the Pentagon or in Manhattan near the Twin Towers on this day. 

Never forget. 

Amen. 

Sarah McCarren

9/10/22

 

Middle Age Woe: Accepting Oneself Without Comparisons

 

                                                 Me. Bobbed hair, glasses, no make-up. T-shirt Nothing glamorous or " sparkly" about me.  I don't attract attention. Bookish and boring. 

Middle age is weird, in so many ways. On most days, I am Super-Confident Sarah. I stand as tall as my five -foot-six inches allows, do my best to be kind, yet refuse to take anyone's " shit".  I work with my strengths and try not to overcompensate for my weaknesses. I'm a good spouse, friend, daughter, and aunt.  I do my best -- along with Brian-- to recycle and reuse. {we only have one Earth, and she needs our help} I take care of our dog and do my house chores.  Thanks to my naturally strong features, I have not worn make-up in over 25 years. 

On other days, I hate myself. As an introvert, I've never felt like seeking the spotlight. I love singing in choral groups, but never competed with other sopranos for solo parts. {singing by myself onstage terrified me-- I much rather prefer to blend in with my section} Yet I envy the women who can and do seek the spotlight. I wish that I had the kind of confidence that makes people notice me in a big way-- the kind of confidence that would allow me to push others out of the way to get ahead. You know, the sort of person who covers their lies by batting eyes and smiling? 

 "  Oh no , I NEVER would do _____"

 Hell, my mother told me when I was a teen that I am a terrible liar. Since I don't like to suck at things, I don't lie. 

Yet liars climb ahead.  

I was bullied in school by the girls who would just bat their eyes at the principal " Sarah doesn't understand what I meant... I wasn't excluding her on the playground. She's just jealous since I'm popular"  ~ "Amy The Bully

" Amy lied to the principal, the coaches, her parents, and my parents. Guess what: since she was {and probably still is} a superficially charming person, she got away with her cruelty. 

When the " Amys" of the world grow up the nan turn into vicious, cruel women. 

My problem is: I try hard to treat others with kindness & respect. 

Confession: Sometimes I wish I had the capability to be a Mean Girl. 

I don't. 

Watching adult Mean Girls get ahead in business, the arts and {especially} politics really burns my butt. 

Yet I am not wired for meanness. Nor am I wired to seek the spotlight. I'm a quiet {until I know you}, bookish, creative nerd woman.  

That is who I am, and I need to work on being grateful for who God designed me to be. 

Amen

Sarah Elizabeth McCarren

9/3/22