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When Georgie Met Martha
In 1758 Martha Dandridge Curtis was 27 and recently widowed, and a very wealthy woman. That year George Washington, also 27 and already a colonel in the Virginia militia (and not at all wealthy) met Martha via the Virginia high-society social scene and proceeded to court her. Courtship was quick, and they were married in January 1759, in what at the time was viewed as a marriage of convenience. They were, however, happily married for 41 years. (Note: The marriage took place at the plantation that Martha owned, in what was called the “White House.”)

 

When Johnny Met Louisa
Louisa Catherine Johnson, who was born in London, met John Quincy Adams at her home in Nantes, France, in 1779. She was 4; he was 12. Adams was traveling with his father, John Adams, who was on a diplomatic mission in Europe. The two met again in 1795 in London, when John was a minister to the Netherlands. He courted her, all the while telling her she’d have to improve herself if she was going to live up to his family’s standards (his father was vice president at the time). She married him anyway, in 1797, and his family made it no secret that they disapproved of the “foreigner” in their family. Nevertheless, they were married until John Quincy Adams’s death in 1848. Louisa remains the only foreign-born First Lady in U.S. history.

 

When Jimmy Met Ann

In the summer of 1819, James Buchanan, 28, became engaged to Ann Coleman, 23, the daughter of a wealthy iron magnate in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He spent very little time with her during the first months of the engagement, being extremely busy at his law office, and rumors swirled that he was seeing other women and was only marrying her for her money. The rumors are believed to be untrue, but Ann took them to heart, and in November, after several distraught weeks, she wrote to him that the engagement was off. On December 9 she died of an overdose of laudanum, possibly in a suicide. Buchanan was devastated, and even more so when her family refused to allow him to see Ann’s body or attend her funeral. He disappeared for some time but eventually returned to his work in Lancaster. After Ann’s death, Buchanan vowed that he would never marry. He didn’t… and remains the only bachelor president in American history.

 

 

When Gracie Met Calvin
One day in 1903, Grace Anna Goodhue was watering flowers outside the Clarke School for the Deaf in Northampton, Massachusetts, where she taught. At some point, she looked up and saw a man through the open window of a boardinghouse across the street. He was shaving, his face covered with lather, and dressed in his long johns. He was also wearing a hat. Grace burst out laughing, and the man turned to look at her. That was the first meeting of Grace and Calvin Coolidge. They were married two years later.

When Harry Met Bessie
In 1890, when they were both small children, Harry Truman met Bess Wallace at the Baptist Church in Independence, Missouri. They were both attending Sunday school. He was six; she was five. Truman later wrote of their first meeting: “We made a number of new acquaintances, and I became interested in one in particular. She had golden curls and has, to this day, the most beautiful blue eyes. We went to Sunday school, public school from the fifth grade through high school, graduated in the same class, and marched down life’s road together. For me she still has the blue eyes and golden hair of yesteryear.” Bess and Harry were married in 1919.

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When Lyndie Met Lady Bird
Lyndon Baines Johnson met Claudia “Lady Bird” Taylor in 1934, a few weeks after she’d graduated from the University of Texas. Johnson was a 26-year-old aide to Texas congressman Richard Kleberg, and was in Austin, Texas, on business. They went on a single breakfast date, at the end of which Johnson proposed marriage. She said she’d think about it. He returned to Washington, and sent her letters and telegrams every day until he returned to Austin 10 weeks later, when she accepted. “Sometimes,” she later wrote about her husband, “Lyndon simply takes your breath away.”

 

When Richie Met Pattie
Thelma “Pat” Ryan graduated from the University of Southern California in 1937 at the age of 25. She got a job as a high school teacher in Whittier, a small town not far from Los Angeles, and became a member of the amateur theatrical group the Whittier Community Players. In 1938 Richard Nixon, a 26-year-old lawyer who had just opened a firm in nearby La Habra, joined the theater group, thinking that acquiring acting skills would help him in the courtroom. In their first performance, Nixon was cast opposite Ryan. He asked her out, and asked her to marry him on their first date. They were married three years later.

When Ronnie Met Nancy
Ronald Reagan wrote in his autobiography that he first met Nancy Davis when she came to him for help. He was president of the Screen Actors Guild, and she couldn’t get a job acting in movies because another Nancy Davis’s name had shown up on the Hollywood blacklist of alleged communists. But according to Jon Weiner’s book Professors, Politics, and Pop, SAG records show that Nancy’s blacklist problem occurred in 1953, a year after the Reagans were married. So how did they meet? Reagan biographer Anne Edwards says that in 1949 Nancy, who had just become an MGM contract player, told a friend of Reagan’s that she wanted to meet him. The friend invited the two to a small dinner party, and the rest is history.

 

When Georgie Met Laura
Joe and Jan O’Neill lived in Midland, Texas, and were childhood friends of Laura Welch. In 1975 another childhood friend, George W. Bush, came back to Midland after being away for a few years. The O’Neills bugged Laura to go out with George, but she didn’t want to. She later said that the O’Neills were only trying to get them together “because we were the only two people from that era in Midland who were still single.” She finally agreed to meet him at a backyard barbecue in 1977, when she was 30 and he was 31. George was smitten; Laura was, too. They were married three months later.

When Barry Met Michelle
In 1989 Michelle Robinson was working at a Chicago law firm when she was assigned to mentor a summer associate from Harvard with a “strange name”: Barack Obama. Not long after, Barack, 27, asked Michelle, 25, on a date. She later admitted that she was reluctant to date one of the few black men at the large firm because it seemed “tacky.” Robinson finally relented, and after dating for several months, she suggested they get married. He wasn’t interested. One night in 1991, during dinner at a Chicago restaurant, she brought it up again. Again, he said no. But when dessert showed up, there was an engagement ring in a box on one of the plates. They were married in 1992.

 

Looking for more amazing facts and good laughs? Check out the latest Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader® titles at bathroomreader.com.

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HowStuffWorks brings you podcasts and articles on enormous underwater waterfalls, corpses stolen for ransom and apple pie.

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New moms, listen up! If you’re thinking of following in the footsteps of your favorite celeb mommy by eating your own placenta post-birth, you might want to reconsider.

Placentophagy—the medical term for consuming the placenta—has been around since at least the 1970s, but it’s gotten a rampant rebirth in recent years, thanks, in part, to celebrities (like reality TV queens Kourtney and Kim Kardashian or actress Katherine Heigl) turning it into a postpartum trend. But a cautionary item in a recent edition of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report is raising the alarm.

According to the report, an infant in Oregon may have gotten sick from contaminated placenta pills his mother took. After the baby contracted B Streptococcus agalactiae (GBS) twice in a short period of time (the second was just five days after he completed a rigorous 11-day course of antibiotics for the first infection), a sample of her placenta capsules was studied. Scientists discovered they contained the same strain of bacteria that caused her infant’s infection.

Placenta encapsulation is how women most commonly ingest the organ after giving birth. The placenta is sent away to a company that heats it, dehydrates it, and then grinds it up to be placed into pills. It’s touted as being a postpartum miracle by potentially increasing the release of the hormone oxytocin (this helps the uterus return to its normal size and can promote mom-and-baby bonding), restoring iron levels in the blood (many new moms struggle with low iron after delivery), staving off postpartum depression, boosting energy, and even increasing milk production.

But worryingly, there’s little (if any) scientific proof to back those claims up, nor has anyone studied the risks.

In fact, researchers at Northwestern University’s Feinberg School of Medicine analyzed 10 preexisting studies on placentophagy and determined there was no data to support the claims that eating the placenta raw, cooked, or encapsulated offers significant postpartum protection. “My concern for [my patients who are thinking about placentophagy] would be that this is unknown territory,” said study author Crystal Clark, assistant professor of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at Northwestern University’s Feinberg School of Medicine on a medical podcast.

While encapsulating your placenta isn’t guaranteed to harm your infant—or provide magical health benefits, either—it’s important to weigh all potential risks, seek out multiple medical opinions, and thoroughly research the encapsulation company before going through with it. Researchers involved with the case in Oregon state that if the placenta isn’t heated to the proper temperature for the right amount of time (130 degrees Fahrenheit for 121 minutes), you run the risk of contamination by Salmonella or other bacteria (like GBS). No formal standards exist for processing placenta for consumption, nor is it officially regulated.

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Ladybugs are one of the few insects people actually like. But look twice before you let one crawl on your finger. Ladybugs might be good luck, but their lookalike cousin could be bad news.

North America does have native ladybugs, but the slightly bigger Asian lady beetle was imported to the United States in 1916 in hopes of keeping other insect pest populations down, according to the USDA. Over the years, more were introduced around the country, and the pest control worked well—too well. Their populations have exploded so much that they’ve become a nuisance in certain regions, such as Central Texas.

“The main danger is one you don’t really see,” University of Texas entomologist Dr. Alex Wild tells CBS Austin. “They’re out there in large numbers; they’re not from here; they’re eating a lot of our native insects in ways that would have unpredictable effects in terms of pest control.”

But these bugs can be just plain pesky too. Unlike harmless native ladybugs, Asian lady beetles bite. They aren’t poisonous, but you will feel a little pinch, according to the University of Kentucky agriculture college. Still, some people are allergic to the bugs, so wash your hands after you touch them.

Don’t let your pet near the Asian lady beetles though. While a nibble might not hurt humans, dozens of the bugs can get inside dogs’ mouths. The poor pups will become lethargic, get ulcers, and start foaming at the mouth. If any get at your pet, remove the bugs with your fingers.

The worst part? You won’t want to squash them, because Asian lady beetles aren’t so cute when they’re scared. Not only do they let out a yellow liquid that can stain, but you’ll smell a musky odor.

To get rid of the pests in your house without chemicals, suck them up with a HEPA filter vacuum or sweep them outside with a broom, suggests pest control service Orkin. Asian lady beetles escape the cold by crawling into homes, so sealing any cracks and making sure windows and doors close tightly will prevent more from getting in.

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A Spirit Airlines flight just made an emergency landing for an unusual reason—and it wasn’t due to bad weather or a mechanical issue. Apparently, a baby just couldn’t wait for his flight to land before joining the world.

Christina Penton, 36 weeks pregnant, had just boarded the flight in Fort Lauderdale when her water broke. Even though the airplane quickly diverted to New Orleans for an emergency landing, it wasn’t fast enough for this impatient newborn.

“He did what he wanted,” mother Cristina Penton told CNN. “We were just all along for the ride.”

Thankfully, a pediatrician and nurse were on board to help her give birth, which was luckily a speedy delivery. About 10 minutes later, the newborn’s cries filled the plane’s cabin, and the passengers erupted in applause.

Penton named her baby boy Christoph. Measuring in at a healthy 7 pounds and 19 and a half inches long, he’s the youngest brother of 11-year-old Lulu and 12-year-old Ramon (who were sitting beside their mother during the delivery!) Funny enough, instead of a hospital, his birthplace is marked as “Other – airplane.”

But here’s the best part: Spirit Airlines gave the tiny, unexpected passenger a fantastic birthday present. Apart from Christoph’s free flight from Fort Lauderdale, he can now travel with a guest on his birthday for free—for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, Christoph is grounded for the time being. He will soon return to his hometown of Phoenix by car to avoid any germs on the plane ride home. Next, check out the incredible story of a 12-year-old who helped delivered her baby brother.

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Planning your next vacation just got a whole lot easier.  You officially only have one choice: The Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection, a luxurious cruise experience that combines the best of a five-star resort with the majesty of the high seas.

Ritz-Carlton’s first fleet will only roll out three 298-passenger yachts—but boy, do they pack a big punch. Each will have 149 suites with private balconies, two penthouses, and a restaurant that boasts a three Michelin-starred chef. And they are also available for private rental if you, y’know, want to splurge.

For a span of seven to 10 days, including overnight and daytime ports of call, Ritz-Carlton’s ships will cruise to places across the Mediterranean, northern Europe, the Caribbean, and Latin America, depending on the season. These small-scale yachts will also be able to dock at locations like Capri and Portofino, Italy, which larger vessels usually can’t access.

The ships were designed by Ritz-Carlton and the Swedish cruise-ship design company Tillberg Design, who also worked on the Norwegian Cruise Line. Although we’re just getting wind of this magnificent project, the company has apparently tossed the idea around for several years.

“We will be one of the smallest, ultra-luxury cruise ships in the market… and we’re hoping to attract those who wouldn’t consider a mainstream cruise, but would entertain a highly-curated yacht style experience,” Herve Humler, President and COO of The Ritz-Carlton Company, told Town & Country. “Through collaborations with local chefs, musicians, and artists, guests will get to experience the locations in unique and experiential ways, both onboard and ashore.”

Still, don’t start packing your bags quite yet—the first yacht won’t set sail until late 2019, though you can book a reservation starting in May of next year. (Before you do, check out experts’ tips for booking a cruise.)

Looking for something a little more—ahem—cost-effective? Good news: booking a cheap flight to Hawaii just became easier than ever.

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If you just booked your next girls’ weekend, congrats! Not only does reuniting with your BFFs feel SO good, you’re also doing a huge favor for your health. Just ask blogger Angie Frederickson, who recently dished on her latest mini-mate-vacay for Huffington Post.

“A girls’ weekend with old friends isn’t just a vacation,” she said. “It’s a reality check with the people who know us best, and it’s what sustains us….When you’re submerged in a world of suburban self-imposed busyness and keeping up with the Joneses it’s hard to see anything else, and there’s nothing like an old friend to put it all in perspective.”

Couldn’t have said it better ourselves! After all, our friends are our confidantes, our shoulders to cry on (or laugh on), and our… medicine?

It’s true; good friends bring plenty of health benefits. Tons of scientific research has shown that having friends makes you healthier, happier, and even a better sleeper.

Don’t believe us? Try this: After compiling data from more than 3.4 million people across 70 studies, a massive 2015 study found that lack of strong friendships increased the risk of premature death from any cause by 50 percent. That’s roughly equivalent to smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day! Plus, a lack of friendships predicts for mortality more so than obesity or physical inactivity. Strong relationships can also reduce the risk of dementia, as well as other health concerns, according to Harvard’s health newsletter.

“There are now a few studies starting to show just how important friendships can be for older adults,” William Chopik, PhD, assistant professor of psychology, told Science Daily. “Summaries of these studies show that friendships predict day-to-day happiness more and ultimately how long we’ll live—more so than spousal and family relationships.”

It’s not hard to see why friends give our health a major boost. Emotional support from other people can lower our blood pressure, improve hormone functions, build stronger immune systems, and maybe even lower inflammation levels, Julianne Holt-Lunstad, a psychologist at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, told the Washington Post. Plus, friends can encourage positive habits like healthy eating, exercising, taking prescriptions, and going to doctor’s appointments, she said. We also build a sense of purpose around our friends, which motivates us to take care of ourselves.

When all is said and done, though, good friendships don’t just happen. They need to be cultivated and nurtured over time. (Here’s how to make friends as a grown-up!) So the next time you book a weekend away with your BFFs, do so sans-guilt. It will be insanely good for you!

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Demand you make a major life change

Making comments about the haircut they prefer on you or wishing you’d spend less on comic book memorabilia is one thing, but if your partner is asking you to change major things—your career, your religion, your studies, or other things you consider core parts of your personality—that’s a serious red flag, says Fran Walfish, PhD, Beverly Hills family and relationship psychotherapist, author of The Self-Aware Parent, and co-star of Sex Box on WE tv. “An important part of being in a successful relationship is to give up trying to control other people, especially your spouse or partner,” she says. Instead of trying to change you, a good partner will support you in your goals. And if they do disagree with something serious? A healthy couple will talk it out, either privately or in therapy, until they reach an understanding—one of the 15 signs of a solid relationship.

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Tis the (strawberry) season! That’s right, folks—summer has arrived, which means we now have an excuse to chow on those red delights for every meal, like, ever.

And why not? They’re the best guilt-free snack, after all. These tasty berries are jam-packed with antioxidants, vitamin C, potassium, fiber, and magnesium. All of those vitamins and minerals have loads of benefits, too, including improving eyesight, reducing high blood pressure, boosting the immune system, and preventing certain cancers and cardiovascular diseases. (Plus, these aphrodisiac wonders can even spark a bit of romance.) And the list doesn’t stop there. No wonder they’re one of the healthiest fruits you can eat!

There’s only one downside to these sweet treats. Strawberries spoil quickly, which is as annoying as it is a waste. Nobody wants to find their strawberries growing mushy and moldy in the fridge after purchasing them only a few days earlier. What is a strawberry lover to do?

Thanks to Hip2Save, an online coupon website, we have the perfect hack for keeping your strawberries fresh WAY longer. All you need is a bit of vinegar, water, and a colander or salad spinner.

To start off, pour about ½ cup of white vinegar and 2 ½ cups of water into a large bowl, and soak your berries in the mixture for a few minutes. The vinegar will get rid of mold spores and bacteria, which make your strawberries spoil quicker. (And don’t worry—your strawberries won’t taste like vinegar afterward!)

To thoroughly dry the strawberries, place some paper towels in a salad spinner or let them air dry in a colander. Be sure to remove all of the moisture, since that will prevent them from getting moldy. Then, you can safely place them in the refrigerator on top of a paper towel. Voila! You now have fresh strawberries to last for days and days. Plus, this method works for blackberries and raspberries, too!

If that still doesn’t do the trick, The Kitchn recommends keeping the stems of your strawberries on for as long as possible in order to extend their shelf life. And if you notice any spoiled or moldy berries in your bunch, remove them ASAP to prevent the mold from spreading to the rest.

Ready to dig in? Try your extra-fresh strawberries along with one of these healthy breakfast ideas.

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Stock up on whole foods

Is your pantry full of snack foods that boast “10 percent less sodium!” and “Now with more fiber”? Ditch those products in favor of more whole foods. That means choosing packages that list only one or two ingredients—such as whole wheat couscous or unsalted, sugar-free peanut butter.

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History junkies, prepare to be amazed! Time, Inc. (the company that owns Time, Life, and Fortune magazines) has just discovered a 60-year-old time capsule in its office—and everyone is clamoring to see what’s inside.

They found the capsule tucked behind a cornerstone that weighed hundreds of pounds, the New York Times reports. Now, the company plans to move it from the original headquarters on the Avenue of the Americas in New York City to its new offices in the World Financial Center complex.

“I said…’It’s coming,’” Greg Giangrande, the company’s executive vice president, told the New York Times. “If I have to take a sledgehammer at midnight one night and kidnap it, it’s coming.”

But because the move would have cost $25,000, the company’s business execs initially gave Giangrande the thumbs down. They wanted to wait until façade renovations began on the building, which would make extracting the capsule cheaper.

At long last—two years, to be exact!—the time has now arrived. Time, Inc. removed the time capsule almost 58 years to the day after it was placed there in 1959.

You can now find the capsule on display outside of an auditorium named after one of the company’s founders, Henry R. Luce. Although we can’t get a peek inside until 2023 (when Time, Inc. turns 100!), the company gave us a hint as to the contents. Apparently, the capsule contains vintage copies of Time, Inc. magazines, including Time, Life, Fortune and Sports Illustrated. We might also find a type of “red pencil preferred by original Time editors, still in use” inside.

Mysterious, indeed! If you want to travel in time right now, check out these time-travel movies guaranteed to make you question everything.

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Do the 90-degree-plus temperatures have you feeling a bit crabby? If you’ve snapped at your kids or spouse (or maybe even a stranger) lately, you can officially blame the weather—and it’s totally scientifically accurate.

According to research published in the European Journal of Social Psychology, three separate studies have all yielded the same conclusion: The summer heat isn’t just getting on our nerves. It makes everything else get on our nerves, too! (Want to beat the heat? Try these tricks to stay cool this summer.)

First, researchers surveyed data from a 2010 study conducted in Russian shopping malls during a summer heat wave. Because none of the stores had air conditioning, the scientists wanted to see if the heat would affect the employees.

Sure enough, “store employees really seemed to be feeling the heat,” Mental Floss reported. Employees were 59 percent less likely that summer to engage with shoppers by offering their assistance or making suggestions. In other words, although the stores were spotless, the human relations aspect of the job was significantly lacking.

For the second experiment, researchers asked 160 participants to take an online trivia quiz. While half of the participants were instructed to imagine themselves in an uncomfortably warm setting before starting the quiz, the “control” group took it without instructions. After the quiz, they were all given an optional survey about their experience. Those who thought about being hot were over 30 percent less likely than everyone else to agree to do it. They also reported feeling more tired and less happy than the other participants.

The final study placed college students in the same class on organizational management, but in two sessions—once in a stuffy room (80°F) and once in air conditioning. 35 students in the air-conditioned room answered the optional survey questions. As for those in the hot room? Only 6!

“The point of our study is that ambient temperature affects individual states that shape emotional and behavioral reactions,” said Liuba Y. Belkin, lead researcher, “so people help less in an uncomfortable environment, whatever the reason they come up with to justify why they cannot do” certain things.

There you have it! All the more reason to invest in air conditioning—no matter where you live. But our mood isn’t the only thing that the heat affects. Summer can also trigger diabetes problems—and here’s how.

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Do wind turbines kill birds? Learn more about the impact of wind power generation on the environment in this HowStuffWorks article.

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Why do Americans display their flag seemingly everywhere? Learn more about the origins of American patriotism in this HowStuffWorks article.

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HowStuffWorks looks at how U.S. mayors plan to combat climate change locally.

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Know what you’re dealing with

Blackheads are a bit different from the typical red bump that comes to mind when you think of acne. When a pore or hair follicle fills with debris or dead skin cells then gets open to skin, a blackhead forms. “It turns black because it’s exposed to oxygen and oxidizes,” says board-certified dermatologist Sandra “Dr. Pimple Popper” Lee, MD. Those clogged pores make a cozy home for bacteria, which is why blackheads tend to lead to more acne. (Learn Dr. Pimple Popper’s best advice for fighting red bumps too.)

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We’re about two years away from the June 2019 release of Toy Story 4. And while details about the next installment are pretty scarce, this theory that’s just emerged about the Toy Story franchise might be enough to hold fans over. (Here are 17 tweets that you’ll relate to if you’re truly obsessed with Disney.)

If you, or your kids, grew up watching the first three Toy Story films (released in 1995, 1999, and 2010), you may have noticed that Andy’s father is nowhere to be found throughout any of them. And while Disney movies do have a tendency to eliminate one or both of a main character’s parents, often in childhood-marring scenes (hi, Lion King), the fate of Andy’s dad is never addressed at all. Did he die? Are Andy’s parents divorced? It’ll just have to be a mystery…right?

Maybe not! A video by the Super Carlin Brothers on YouTube has suggested a theory—and it actually makes a lot of sense. Buckle up and get ready to have some nagging Toy Story questions answered.

Toy Story’s protagonist, Woody, belonged to Andy’s father first (indeed, Andy’s mom calls Woody “an old family toy”). Andy’s father was also named Andy—Andy Sr.—and he wrote his name on Woody’s boot. The reason Woody is such a rare toy is because he’s the only Woody doll that was ever made—just a prototype. A cereal company had a promotion—send in X amount of box tops and get a Sheriff Woody doll. However, Woody merchandise was discontinued after Sputnik went up (remember Stinky Pete’s complaint that “children only wanted to play with space toys”?). Because Andy Sr.’s family wasn’t very wealthy, he couldn’t collect enough box tops before the promotion ended. But Andy Sr., a sickly child, sent in his few box tops with a letter begging for a Woody doll, and someone decided to send him the prototype. Learn about the mysterious note Walt Disney left behind when he died.

Here’s where it gets really sad. Andy Sr., already sickly, came down with polio, which meant that all of his belongings had to be burned—including toys. But, he stashed Woody away before he could be burned. Eventually recovering from polio, he met his wife as an adult and had Andy Jr. BUT, around the time Andy’s sister was born, he came down with post-polio syndrome, which he ended up dying from—but not before he entrusted his precious Woody doll to his son. (Be right back, we’re drying our tears.)

See the full video above for a much more detailed description, including a couple more lingering plot holes that the theory clears up. As mind-blowing as the theories are, many are claiming that this story is not the real deal—including, rather disappointingly, one of Toy Story’s original writers, Andrew Stanton. In a tweet, he insisted that there’s “nothing to see here” and that the story is nothing but “fake news.”

Complete and utter fake news. Everyone go back to your homes. Nothing to see here, folks. #Iwasthere https://t.co/06j37YKKt2

— andrew stanton (@andrewstanton) June 24, 2017

That’s it?! You’re just going to tell us that this theory’s not true, without giving us the true story? C’mon. Will we ever learn the true answer? Will it be revealed in Toy Story 4? Alas, we’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, here are 9+ Disney live-action remakes to look forward to, and check out the trailer for the live-action Winnie the Pooh movie.

Source: mentalfloss.com

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If you’re a commuter or drive on the highway often, you’ve probably seen those tall wall-like structures alongside the road. You may think they’re there to prevent cars and trucks from going off the road, or to provide privacy to nearby neighborhoods. But that’s actually not their main purpose.

It all started back when the 1958 Hollywood Bowl was drowned out by nearby highway noise. Ever since, tall barriers made out of noise-cancelling materials were constructed along the busiest areas of America’s highways to prevent the noise from interfering with surrounding areas. There are now 2,748 miles of these walls across the U.S.

According to the Federal Highway Administration, barrier walls can reduce highway noise by almost half. The structures are typically made out of wood, concrete or brick—materials that absorb or deflect sound.

One critical aspect of the construction of these wall is their height. They’re built high enough to be over the line of sight, usually much taller than any car or truck. Building them up this high reduces sound waves by about 5-10 decibels. Human ears can’t usually notice a difference below 3 decibels, so the taller the better!

The barriers are most effective when they are built within 61 meters of the road, which is why they can seem like safety barriers. They also cannot have any openings, or else the noise will leak through and the wall will be ineffective.

The FWHA also puts aesthetic standards on the noise reducing walls. They “must be designed to be visually appealing [and] must be designed to preserve aesthetic values and scenic vistas,” according to the organization’s website. This is done to keep the natural landscape that typically surrounds highways intact and make them pleasant for surrounding residential communities as well.

Check out some other highway fun facts and wow your fellow carpoolers on your next road trip.

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Most of us don’t think twice about refilling our plastic water bottles. After all, it’s all in the name of personal hydration—plus, it’s eco-friendly! And there’s absolutely nothing harmful about a simple bottle of water, right?

Wrong! That plastic water bottle could actually do your body more harm than good, experts say. Why? You can thank Biphenol A (commonly known as BPA), a chemical used to manufacture plastics, for your water woes. This harmful chemical can leach into the water and quickly grow dangerous bacteria in the bottle’s cracks. (It’s why you should stay away from straws, too.) And the health consequences are pretty serious.

“Certain chemicals found in plastic bottles can have effects on every system in our bodies,’ Dr. Marilyn Glenville told Good Housekeeping UK. “They can affect ovulation, and increase our risk of hormonally driven problems like PCOS, endometriosis and breast cancer, among other things.”

Science just proved it, too! In a study conducted by Treadmill Reviews, researchers tested water bottles used by athletes for a week and found that the bacteria count reached over 900,000 colony-forming units per square centimeter, on average. Get this: That’s more bacteria than the average toilet seat. Plus, 60 percent of those germs were able to make people sick. Gross!

To hydrate without harm, smart drinkers should avoid re-using disposable bottles. Instead, you should recycle them after drinking up once; or, better yet, invest in a BPA-free plastic bottle or one made from glass or stainless steel. Not only will doing so benefit your health, but you can help the environment, too.

If you need another reason to pass on the plastic, here’s the scary reason why water bottles have an expiration date.

from Reader's Digest http://ift.tt/2suPhQd

This might be the most remarkable slave narrative you've never heard about. Learn more about the Black Loyalists at HowStuffWorks.

from HowStuffWorks - Learn How Everything Works! http://ift.tt/2ttRsI9

Your loved one hurt your feelings or crossed a boundary. You’re trying to talk to them about it. But as soon as you start expressing yourself, they cross their arms. They look away. They start playing with their phone. They say things like: Why are you criticizing me? and I know you think I’m a terrible person. They start defending their behavior. They list a litany of reasons why you’re actually in the wrong.

In other words, they get defensive. In fact, they get defensive any time you try to have a real conversation with them.

And this defensiveness feels a lot like they don’t care. You feel like your feelings don’t matter to them. You feel like you don’t matter. According to marriage and family therapist Jennine Estes, defensiveness is actually “rarely intentional.” Rather it’s a knee-jerk reaction that shields the person from guilt and self-doubt, she said.

“People who are defensive have difficulty taking responsibility for their actions and often feel uncomfortable being ‘wrong.’ [That’s] because accepting responsibility would make them feel as if they have failed.”

Defensive behavior might stem from a tough childhood or traumatic past, which can make a person more likely to “react through a negative lens,” said Lisa Brookes Kift, MFT, a psychotherapist and founder of Love and Life Toolbox. Kids often develop this behavior as a way to cope with difficult situations, said Estes, who owns a group practice called Estes Therapy in San Diego. Then it “becomes a bad habit as an adult.” Individuals also might grow up with a sinking self-esteem and a deep belief that they’re not good enough.

Defensiveness is like a spotlight, Estes said. “When you share pain with your loved one, that bright spotlight shifts from you to them. The defensiveness is a way to shift the spotlight back on to you, instead of keeping it on what really matters—the initial issue.”

We can’t control others’ reactions or actions. But we can increase the chances that they’ll listen to us by communicating in a constructive way. As Estes, said, “Relationships are like baby mobiles: If you tug on one side, the whole structure moves. If you shift your response, even just a little bit, the other person will automatically have to change their behavior.” Here’s how.

Avoid using “blame” language. Don’t start a sentence with “you,” as in “You didn’t hear me, again!” or “You just don’t care about how I feel!” said Estes, the author of Relationships in the Raw. Also, avoid using “always” and “never.” “These words give no wiggle room, and can be very critical, causing a person to defend their position.”

Start on a positive note. According to Kift, tell the other person what they mean to you, such as: “You’re a great friend and I’m telling you this because I care about you…” Also, show appreciation for what the person has done, Estes said. “If they don’t feel like their good efforts are acknowledged and only hear about how they messed up again, they will feel defeated.”

She shared this example: “I appreciate how you tried to handle our kid’s tantrum in the store. I know it wasn’t easy and I am glad I am not alone in this. You did your best. Can we talk about how we can both handle these public tantrums in the future?”

Start with some vulnerability and responsibility. Be vulnerable with the person, and take some responsibility for the situation. Estes shared this example: “I always felt as if I didn’t matter as a child. I was never seen. Now, when I talk and the TV is on, I feel like I am invisible again. You probably don’t mean to send me that message at all. I know how much you like your show. But it actually hurts and brings me back to that place of being a kid again.”

Focus on your feelings. “Beginning with an expression of how you feel is a good way to disarm defensive behavior,” Kift said. She suggested using this sentence structure: Say how you felt (your emotion) when they did what they did (their behavior). She shared this example: “I felt unimportant to you when you said we would go to dinner last night and then you canceled on me at the last minute.”

Ask meaningful questions. Estes suggested asking the other person how they’re feeling. “Be sincerely curious around their response. Deep down, it might be the little kid feeling as if they are not good enough and they need your compassion.”

For instance, according to Estes, you might say: “It seems like my question upset you. Is there something I said that makes you feel like you need to protect yourself?” or “It seems like my comment upset you. Did my comment make you feel attacked or hurt in any way?”

Don’t lose your temper. Of course, this isn’t easy to do when someone isn’t listening to you, or is listing off 20 reasons why they’re right. But losing your cool just adds fuel to the fire, Estes said. “Put down that pitchfork and stay focused on the feelings of hurt underneath it all.” Slow down, and take several deep breaths. And if you can’t calm down, tell the person you need to take a break.

Sometimes, you can do all the right things to have a constructive conversation—watch your words, be vulnerable—and the other person still gets defensive. In these cases, you can apologize and say it’s not your intention, Kift said. Remember that defensive behavior can stem from deeper issues, which have more to do with the person, than with your approach.

from Psych Central http://ift.tt/2sYATDw

There’s nothing more refreshing than iced coffee when you need a caffeine fix in the summer, but recent news might have you thinking twice before ordering your next cold brew. A BBC Watchdog investigation found something gross in the ice of U.K. coffee chains, including Starbucks.

BBC small samples of ice from Starbucks, Costa, and Caffe Nero in the United Kingdom. Three out of ten samples from both Starbucks and Costa and a whopping seven out of ten at Caffe Nero contained fecal coliforms. That’s right: bacteria from poop.

The idea of little poo pieces swimming in your coffee just plain gross, but don’t give up iced coffee just yet. The group of bacteria called “fecal coliform” can indeed be found in poop, but you can also find them in fruits and veggies, food safety specialist Ben Chapman tells Live Science.

Fecal coliform is an indicator that there could be disease-causing organisms in the water. “The level of contamination of fecal bacteria [in the coffee shops’ ice] concerns me a great deal,” says Tony Lewis, spokesperson for The Chartered Institute of Environmental Health, according to The Telegraph. “The bacteria found are opportunistic pathogens—the source of human disease.”

Sounds scary, but the mere presence of fecal bacteria isn’t a sure sign you’ll get sick. Even most strains of E. coli—a specific of fecal coliform health experts say is a better indicator of pathogens than the group as a whole—are totally harmless, according to the EPA. The BBC didn’t specify which bacteria it found, so it’s unclear whether any could actually make customers sick.

In light of the gross-out reports, all three chains have taken action. Starbucks and Caffe Nero are doing their own investigations, and Costa is updating its employee guidelines for handling ice and will bring in new ice storage equipment, according to BBC.

If you don’t trust your local coffee shop with a cold brew anymore, use this iced coffee hack to make your own at home—without watering it down.

from Reader's Digest http://ift.tt/2trOnIM

As we crossed the Triborough Bridge into Queens, I’m suddenly gripped with this terror that I’m going to die one day. I’m going to see my grandma Ruthy.

Growing up, I would spend weekends with my grandparents. They’d pick me up on Friday nights, and I’d have these long, adventurous days with Grandma Ruthy that felt like she was trying to pack all of the world’s knowledge into one 12-hour period.

We’d wake up early, drink coffee with lots of sugar, and then she’d give me a trillion vitamins, and then we’d head into the city. We’d start at the Central Park Zoo. She’d teach me about marsupials and pandas. Then we’d go to the MOMA, and it was Monet and impressionism. Then we’d walk downtown past all the shops to Sweet Basil in the West Village, where we’d see Doc Cheatham play trumpet. Then Chinatown, where she taught me how to use chopsticks.

Finally we’d go back to her place. And she’d teach me how to lose at rummy. She’d wait for me to reach for one more card, and then she’d slap my hand and say, “Rummy, kiddo!” She’d throw her cards down and laugh. She wanted me to know that it’s not enough to beat your grandson at cards; you have to squeeze every last little drop of joy out of beating him.

But I’m not thinking about that as we cross the bridge. We pull up outside of their apartment building, and I walk in to see my grandmother sitting on the couch. Where once she would have been, like, the loudest person in the room, now she can barely move. And where once she would have wrapped me in this huge bear hug, now it seems like the couch is going to swallow her alive.

And I know that I’m supposed to go and sit at her feet and hug her and kiss her and hold her hand and say goodbye. But I want to run. I don’t want to see her like this. I don’t want to even make eye contact with this woman that I loved so dearly, because if I do, maybe death will reach out from over her shoulder and touch me too.

She says, “So where are we going for dinner?” I look at my mom with horror because I don’t know what food goes with dying. And my mom says, “What are you in the mood for, Aaron?”

I say, “Well, we could just call the local Chinese restaurant and I’ll go over and pick it up.”

And my grandmother, dying of ovarian cancer, pulls herself to the edge of the couch and straightens herself up and says, “My grandson doesn’t eat take-out food with me.”

And that’s how we end up carrying her off the couch, down the steps, into the car, and driving 30 minutes to the closest Japanese restaurant. And we sit in a booth by the window.

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When it comes her time to order, we all kind of hold our breath. She hasn’t managed solid food in weeks, and she can barely do a sip of water because of the pain. But she looks at the waitress and she says, “I’ll have a Sapporo. In a mug, please.”

And we eat and she drinks half of her beer. And she tells us about the time that she and my grandfather went to China, and how they traveled through Siberia on the railroad and all these incredible stories—and for a moment, there’s no death. There’s no cancer. There’s “We’re all immortal. Time stretches out forever.” There’s a moment like that in every meal, if you pay attention. It’s there, where oblivion is replaced with infinity.

And then we go home. And it’s time to do that thing that I’ve been dreading. Saying goodbye. We do it outside her building. And she hugs me and she kisses me and she cries a little bit. And then we do it—we say goodbye. And I’m waiting for the dread, the icy cold hand of death on my heart, but I don’t feel it, because she’s built this shield around me. The meal has been this shield.

A few days later, she’s sitting on the couch next to her son and her husband, and she says, “It’s time.”

And they help her to the bed, and she says, “Do you think there’s a heaven?”

My grandfather says, “I don’t know. Are you scared?”

And she says, “No.” And then she closes her eyes and dies.

When it gets too much for me, my therapist, Karl, told me I’m supposed to look over my shoulder and say, “Hello, Death. Nice to see you again.” My therapist is a genius samurai warrior poet with an MSW, but he’s wrong.

The last lesson my grandma Ruthy taught me is that when I stand on the edge of infinity, it’s that it’s not enough to say, “Hello, Death. Nice to see you again.”

You have to say, “Hello, Death. Nice to see you again. Listen, before we go, I’m going to have one more beer.”

Aaron Wolfe, 40, is a filmmaker and a writer. He lives in Belmont, Massachusetts.

Told live at a Moth show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg in New York, NY

from Reader's Digest http://ift.tt/2s96rUn

The week of April Fools’ Day of 1981 began badly. That Sunday night, my husband told me he was leaving me. He had fallen in love with one of his graduate students, and they were headed to the tropics the next day.

I was completely devastated. It was totally unexpected.

He gave me a new vacuum cleaner to soften the blow.

It was the middle of spring quarter at Berkeley, so the next morning I had my class as usual. It was far easier to teach it than to explain why not, so I dropped off our daughter, Emily—who was five and three quarters years old—at kindergarten. I headed to school and taught my class.

I made it through the day and around three thirty headed back to pick up Emily from school.

We got home, walked up the stairs, opened the house … and it was absolute chaos.

Someone had broken in. Everything was completely trashed.

I called 911, and a young police officer went through the house. I had no idea what had been taken and what hadn’t, because my husband had taken many things with him the night before.

I explained that to Officer Rodriguez, and he said, “As you figure it out, make a list.”

Then he went upstairs with Emily. They opened the door of her room, and it was 18 inches deep of just chaos. The bed had been pulled apart, curtains pulled down, drawers all dumped out. ­

Emily—five and three quarters—looked at Officer Rodriguez and said, “I can’t tell if the burglars were in here or not.”

And Officer Rodriguez, to his eternal credit, did not crack a smile. He handed her his card and said, “Young lady, if you discover that anything is missing, please give me a call.”

So now it was Monday night. I was scheduled later that week to give a presentation in Washington, DC, to the National Institutes of Health. It was terribly important. I had not done this before. It was my interview for my first large grant on my own.

The plan had been for Emily to stay with her dad and for my mom to come out, arriving the next day to help out.

My mom, who was living in Chicago, didn’t know anything about the events of the previous 24 hours, so I thought, I’ll just wait and explain it to her when she gets here.

So the next day we picked up my mom at San Francisco Airport, and driving back to Berkeley, I explained to her what happened on Sunday.

She was very, very upset. She said, “I can’t believe you’ve let this family come apart. I can’t believe this child will grow up without a father.” (Which was never true and has never been true since.)

By the time we got home, she was extremely agitated. After a couple of hours, she said, “I’m going home. I just can’t imagine that this has happened. How can you even think of running off to the East Coast at a time like this?”

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My father had died not long before. Just two months after this visit, my mother was diagnosed with epilepsy. So, in context, her reaction was not as irrational as it seemed in that moment, but at the time, of course, it was devastating.

So I said, “OK. You’re right. I’ll arrange for you to go home tomorrow, and I’ll cancel the trip.”

I called my mentor, who had been my postdoc adviser at UC San Francisco. He was already in Washington, DC, and I said, “I’m not going to be able to come.” I explained briefly what had happened.

He just listened. He had grown daughters and said, “Look, come. Bring Emily. Emily and I know each other. I’ll sit with her while you’re giving your presentation.” He had grandchildren of his own.

I said, “She doesn’t have a ticket.”

He said, “As soon as we hang up, I’m going to call the airline and get her a ticket. It’ll be on the same flight as yours. Everything will be fine.”

I arranged for my mother to go back to Chicago.

Her flight from San Francisco was at ten o’clock in the morning. We left in plenty of time, but it was one of those days when the Bay Bridge was just totally jammed up. What should have been a drive of 45 minutes took an hour and 45 minutes.

When we finally arrived, my mom’s flight was about to leave in 15 minutes, Emily’s and my flight was going to leave in 45 minutes, and in front of the counter to pick up tickets was a long, long line.

And, of course, we had our suitcases. My mom was carrying hers, and she was already fairly frail.

I said, “Mom, can you make it to your plane on your own?”

She said, “No.”

So I said to Emily, “I’m going to need to go with Grandmom down to her plane.”

My mother looked at me, completely shocked, and said, “You can’t leave that child here alone!”

Fair enough.

Suddenly this unmistakable voice above and behind me said, “Emily and I will be fine.”

I turned around to the man standing behind us, and I said, “Thank you.”

My mother said, “You can’t leave Emily with a total stranger.”

And I said, “Mom, if you can’t trust Joe DiMaggio, who can you trust?”

Joe DiMaggio, who just like us was standing there, waiting in line, looked at me, looked at my mother, and gave Emily a huge grin. And then he put out his hand and said, “Hi, Emily. I’m Joe.”

Emily shook his hand, and she said, “Hello, Joe. I’m Emily.”

And I said, “Mom, let’s go.”

We got to the plane, and my mother got on fine. By the time I got back, Emily and Joe were all the way up at the front, chatting with each other.

Joe DiMaggio had wrangled Emily’s ticket for her. He was clearly waiting to go to his plane until I got back.

I looked at him, and I said, “Thank you very much.”

And he said, “My pleasure.”

He headed off down the hall. He gave me this huge salute and wave and a tremendous grin and went off to his own plane.

Emily and I went to Washington, DC. I got the grant, and that was the beginning of the work that has become the story of inherited breast cancer and of BRCA1.

Dr. Mary-Claire King, 71, is American Cancer Society Professor at the University of Washington in Seattle. She was the first to show that breast cancer is inherited in some families as the result of mutations in the gene that she named BRCA1. In 2016, she was awarded the National Medal of Science by President Barack Obama.

Told live at a Moth show at the Players in New York, NY

This story also appears in the book All These Wonders: True Stories About Facing the Unknown.

from Reader's Digest http://ift.tt/2trZXUx

My older brother, older sister, and I are in grade school. One day I come home, and I’m frustrated. I sheepishly ask my mom to no longer put Middle Eastern food in my lunch.

She and my father become quiet. He drops his crossword puzzle, they lock eyes, and my mother, through questioning, gets me to reveal that the other students give me a very difficult time when I pull out food that doesn’t look like everybody else’s. So I ask, “From now on, could we do peanut butter and jelly on Wonder Bread and an apple?”

And then my brother and sister pipe in and say they’d like the same because they were going through it as well. There were no African Americans in my school; there were no Asians. I don’t think there was anybody from India, nobody from Latin America; not as students, not as teachers, not as administrators. It was primarily a homogenous Protestant/Catholic community.

In the midst of that, our family was slightly exotic. My father’s family was from Syria; my mom’s from Palestine. We had looks that weren’t exactly conforming to what I went to school with. We had food that was different; we had holiday customs that were not the same as everybody else. Sometimes we could stick out.

My mother didn’t say too much when I brought up the lunch issue. But about a week later the teacher announces that we should not bring school lunches the following day, nor should we bring lunch money for the cafeteria, that we were going to have some sort of a special food event.

The next day at lunch, unbeknownst to me, in comes my mother with boxes and trays of Middle Eastern food. The teacher introduces her. “This is Mrs. Nimen. This is Tom’s mom.”

She pulls out the food. She starts serving the kids kibbe. This is a baked dish. You’ll find it in the homes of kings and queens; you’ll find it in the homes of the most humble people. “Try this,” she said. “Here’s some ­fataya—these are little triangular bread pies and they have meat in them, or spinach, and pine nuts and onions.” And she pulled out tabbouleh, hummus, baba ghanoush, and her homemade bread. She had baked bread for the entire class to take home.

Let me tell you about my mother: She was an artist. She dressed like an artist; she spoke like an artist; she had the attitude of an artist. She’s being charming and funny, and she’s riling up the students, and they’re laughing, and I’m blowing a gasket because a week earlier these snarky kids were making fun of everything that I’m eating, and here they are sucking down my mom’s food!

My mother did the same thing the next day in my brother’s class and the day after that in my sister’s class. Now, I would like to tell you that this ended some of the low-grade racial issues that my brother and sister and I faced. It did not. But it took a significant edge off, and she, if I think about it now, was a very early pioneer of diversity, in a very crafty way, using Middle Eastern hospitality.

Thomas Royal Nimen, 61, works as a brand developer, graphic designer, painter, and blogger. He writes about Middle Eastern culture at ilikum.org.

Told live at a Moth show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg in New York, NY

from Reader's Digest http://ift.tt/2s8ab8w

I grew up an hour south of Louis­ville, Kentucky, in a town of a thousand people where nobody locks their doors, you get questions like whether you go to the Methodist church or the Baptist church, and everyone smiles and waves at everyone, whether they know you or not, whether they like you or not.

I came to New York straight out of college with no money. A friend suggested I move to Newark because it was an up-and-coming area just a short train ride from the city.

Yeah, he lied. Newark is the first place I ever heard gunshots. But I figured it’s just a place to sleep. I came to New York for theater, and I did it. I worked every day in a French theater as a receptionist for next to nothing, and at night I was a playwright and a director in a small theater for exactly no money. And so I really only saw Newark early in the morning and late, late at night, and I did my best to keep my head down.

The problem was I had to go to the bus stop every day, and it was basically an HBO miniseries about urban decay. I tried to be a jaded New Yorker, but I was terrified. And so I would hide in an empty train station by myself when I had to wait for my bus to get there and run across the street when it did. And for a long time this was all right, until this one night.

I was sitting on a bench, and a homeless man sat right next to me and said, “I want some money.”

I knew the drill: Don’t make eye contact, don’t engage in conversation; just pull out some change and hand it to him.

But he wouldn’t take it. He said, “I want money, not change.”

My heart started to pound. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. I looked into his face for the first time, and I said, “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have any cash,” and because I’m just a naturally helpful person, I showed him my empty wallet.

He saw my bank card, and he said, “There’s an ATM down the street. Let’s go get some money.”

I didn’t like the idea. And the truth was, I didn’t have enough money for the $20 minimum withdrawal. When I told him that, he became enraged. He said, “You’re gonna get me some money. You wouldn’t be the first person I killed.”

I considered running, but I’m slow, so I did what I do best when I am nervous: I started talking.

I said, “I know you think I have money. I really don’t. I don’t have it as bad as you do, but I’m sleeping on my floor right now because I can’t afford furniture, and most days I have ramen noodles and a banana, not that I’ve lost any weight since I moved here.”

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He didn’t laugh.

I said, “No offense, but if I did have money, I wouldn’t live in Newark.”

He didn’t really look all that offended by that.

And then I figured these were my last words, so I said something I’d been holding in since I moved to New York. “You know, people from home call and they say, ‘Oh my God, New York City, that’s so exciting!’ And I don’t have the heart to tell them, ‘No, it’s actually Newark,’ and I also don’t know how to say that I really hate it up here. I think it’s loud and dirty and expensive, and everybody’s always in a bad mood, and I feel like a really stupid cliché, the country girl who comes to New York to change the world with her theater.

“I’m not gonna change the world with my theater. It sucks, actually, and I’m probably gonna die here tonight because I’m too proud to admit that I don’t belong here.”

And then I got really sappy, and I said, “I really miss my mom! I miss sweet tea and porch swings and people smiling at me, so could you please not kill me so I can see those things again, please?”

I hadn’t looked at him in a while, afraid of what I would see, but I had to look. And his face had completely transformed, and he moved toward me and pulled me into a bear hug. You know, it was my first human contact in months. He said, “You’re gonna be something great one day. Don’t you leave New York City.” And he got up and walked away.

The next day, I went out and I bought pepper spray, but I also started dropping my guard a little bit, because I couldn’t stop thinking, What made this guy go from wanting to kill me to wanting to comfort me? My theory was we were both sick and tired of our bubbles, you know? I was tired of not looking at the people and the things around me because I was so afraid of how different they were from what I knew. And I bet he was probably tired of people never looking at him.

Randi Skaggs, 41, is a middle school language arts teacher, writer, storyteller, and mother. She lives in Louisville, Kentucky.

Told live at a Moth show at Headliners Music Hall in Louisville, KY

from Reader's Digest http://ift.tt/2tqpwFy

One hot day I was playing with the kids next door, and I found out that in other people’s houses older kids had later bedtimes. I was five years old, and my sister Lisa was two years younger.

I go to my mother with my newfound information, and I advocate for policy change. I am denied.

This big-sister thing is not what it’s cracked up to be. Every time we do something that we’re not supposed to do, I get in more trouble. Everybody’s always paying attention to her—she’s little, she’s cute. And we have to go to bed at the same time. I’ve had it!

So I go to my room, and I take my white vinyl Partridge Family sleepover suitcase, and I put it on the bed, and I start to pack. Into the suitcase goes Nancy Drew and Amelia Bedelia and some Barbies, and by the time I’m done, there is no room left for clothes.

But I’m leaving forever, so I know I’m gonna need a wardrobe. And I put on two pair of underwear first, because you gotta change, right? Pair of pants, pair of shorts, a T-shirt, a hoodie, a raincoat, and over it all a crocheted poncho with fringe. And I go downstairs. My mother is in the kitchen. She looks up and asks if I’m running away. I told her yes.

She’s not nearly as upset by this as I feel she should be.

She goes, “Are you going to Grandma Sylvia’s?” Which is the only other place I know. It’s not even a mile away. I can’t believe she can figure this out. She’s like some kind of witch!

I don’t answer her. I go out the front door and down the driveway. Now, remember, it’s the ’70s, and they have not yet invented suitcases with wheels, and mine’s full of books.

So with every step, I’m dragging my suitcase. I go down the driveway, left on Redwood, left on Red Oak. With every step, I’m sweating and dragging and sweating and dragging. I’m so intent on my mission that I don’t realize my mother is, like, 20 yards behind me, following and waving concerned citizens away.

Finally I get to number 73, Grandma’s apartment building. I go up the stairs, and before I even knock, the door opens.

My grandma tells me she’s very happy to see me, but I’m certainly not living there forever. And I realize my mother has called ahead and I have been betrayed.

My grandma says, “Do you want a drink as long as you’re here?”

She goes to get me some juice, and I’m taking off my layers, and my mother comes sweeping in. And she sits down in my grandfather’s wing-back chair, and she pats her lap. She goes, “Come here.” I don’t want to, because I am righteously pissed, but I’m hot and I’m five, and I get on my mother’s lap. She pushes my hair back behind my ear, and she says, “Sweetheart, what is it? Why have you left?”

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And it all comes tumbling out: “It’s not fair and all the time with Lisa I get into trouble and she doesn’t … and we should not have the same bedtime!”

And my mother, who has always known me better than I’ve known myself, takes my hot, red little face in her hands, and she says to me, “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to be so miserable.” She says, “You came first. If it’s that hard for you living with Lisa, tomorrow morning I’ll call the orphanage and we’ll send her away.”

I can read. I know what an orphanage is. I start to cry, and I beg her, “Don’t send my sister to an orphanage!” My mother reluctantly agrees that we’ll all go home and give it another try.

That night my mother feeds us scrambled eggs and SpaghettiOs for dinner, and she gives us a bath and puts us to bed at the same time, as she will for many years to come.

And Lisa and I will grow to be two halves of the same whole, through adventures and concerts and boyfriends and divorces and death and everything. But every once in a while, we’ll have a fight. And to this day, if I turn over my shoulder and say, “Mom, Lisa’s being mean to me!” my mother always answers in the same way. She says, “You had your chance.”

Terry Wolfisch Cole, 52, is a writer and storyteller living in West Simsbury, Connecticut.

Told live at a Moth show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg in New York, NY

from Reader's Digest http://ift.tt/2tqP6dh

A healthy relationship with ourselves is multi-layered. It’s complicated. It consists of many, many parts—just like any relationship with anyone. And just like any relationship, there are important ingredients to cultivating a loving, compassionate partnership.

A healthy relationship with ourselves includes having a connected relationship with our bodies, according to Karin Lawson, Psy.D, a psychologist in private practice in Miami, Fla., who works with adults using a mind-body approach.

What does this look like?

We tune into our body’s cues and respond to them. For instance, we might notice that our jaw clenches and our stomach hurts every time we talk to a certain person. Responding to these cues might mean setting stricter, stronger boundaries or no longer spending time with them.

Stephanie Kang believes that a healthy relationship consists of making room for all of you—including your insecurities and imperfections. You have a “sense of wholeness and the feeling that you’re free to be your true self…” said Kang, a coach and counselor who guides her clients toward greater self-acceptance and personal transformation.

A healthy relationship also is based on curiosity and knowledge about our motives, intentions, needs, said Terina Lopez, a mental health counselor who specializes in eating disorders, anxiety, depression and identity development. It involves examining our actions and our whys—why do I feel the way I feel? —and making appropriate adjustments or changes.

A healthy relationship with ourselves is an ongoing process—again, just like any relationship. Below, you’ll find a list of ways to cultivate a kind, meaningful, fulfilling relationship with yourself every day.

Notice your inner chatter. Pay attention to what you regularly tell yourself. Pay attention to what you say when you’re facing a challenge or a stressful situation. “Starting to notice this is a great first step because it is often so unconscious,” Kang said. “Once we become more aware of how we relate to ourselves, we can reflect on what effect it’s having, and how we want to change.”

Use relaxation techniques to connect to your body. Lawson practices diaphragmatic breathing, progressive muscle relaxation and yoga to better hear her body. These techniques help us pay attention to subtle cues that we gloss over every day as we focus more on our tasks and to-dos. Over time, through engaging in these types of practices and taking the time to tune into your body, you’ll develop a familiar knowing.

She shared these examples: “Oh, there’s that annoying pain starting in my neck, maybe I need to go for a 5-minute walk and get some fresh air,” or “I’m feeling so numb and disconnected, I probably need to get stimulated with some aromatherapy or a call to my best friend.”

“Recognizing what’s going on physically can instigate our own care and responsiveness to our emotions, great qualities in any friendship,” Lawson said.

Check in with yourself regularly. According to Lopez, in general, “people have become so preoccupied with doing, we hardly examine how we are feeling.” However, connecting to ourselves helps us make informed decisions and actually ensure that our priorities are priorities, she said.

Lopez suggested regularly asking ourselves these questions:

• How am I taking care of myself?
• What can I do to improve my self-care practices?
• How can I make time for these practices?
• How satisfied do I feel in my personal and professional relationships?
• What changes can I make to improve the quality of these relationships?
• What is taking the most time out of my day? Am I content with the activities I’m spending the most time on? If the answer is no, what changes can I make?
• Do I feel connected to something I think is important and valuable?

Practice self-acceptance. See the parts of yourself that you dislike as part of being human, Kang said. She suggested sharing your flaws and insecurities with a close friend, or a coach or counselor. “[O]ften this leads to a sense of relief, and even the realization that the things we are most afraid to show are often super common and relatable experiences.”

Also, imagine how you’d respond to a loved one’s flaws and insecurities, and try to apply this to yourself, she said. Finally, practice self-compassion, which is a skill you can learn.

Surround yourself with loving people. “Though building a healthy relationship with yourself is ultimately something you have to go through on your own, it can help tremendously to have a positive community,” Kang said. It’s also helpful to spend time with people who have healthy relationships with themselves, she said.

Limit negative media. According to Kang, “anything that leaves you feeling less good about yourself is something you can live without.” Think about the different things you are consuming right now, and how they influence your relationship with yourself. Be intentional about what you expose yourself to. For instance, you might decide to stop buying magazines that feature articles about losing weight and getting a “bikini body.”

Explore the obstacles. “Look at what’s getting in the way of having the relationship that you want with yourself,” Kang said. She also suggested exploring past moments and situations that have hurt your relationship with yourself. How might you heal them? How might you move on? How can you navigate these obstacles today?

Our relationship with ourselves is the foundation for everything. It is “the foundation for all other relationships in our lives,” Kang said. “And you are the only person who will be with you for your entire life.” So, it’s not an exaggeration to say that building a healthy relationship with ourselves is vital and worthwhile. Maybe even urgent.

from Psych Central http://ift.tt/2tvJ8Z4