What Has Happened To Us!

 

                                                                freepik.com

 

Worthly posted on Facebook
15 reasons baby boomers feel out of place in today's world
Story by Bruno P
 
Face-to-face Conversations Have Been Replaced by Texts
Short texts and emojis have taken over, and for Boomers who value tone, eye contact, and real presence, it feels that something essential is missing. Communicating through screens doesn't carry the same warmth or meaning. I do like texting to get information and not get hung up on the phone, but it should not replace the ability to truly communicate with someone you love.
 
Manners Don't Seem to Matter as Much Anymore
We were raised on phrases like "please," "thank you," and "excuse me.” Showing respect to elders was expected, not optional. In today's culture of speed and casual everything, traditional manners feel like relics from the past. I feel the impatience around me as if I should hurry up and get out of the way.  Whether it's someone talking over you or not holding the door, the loss of respect makes the older generation feel invisible and brushed aside.  
 
The Work Ethic Has Changed Drastically
Boomers were loyal to one company for decades and our hard work was often rewarded. Now, job-hopping is normal, and remote work has blurred the lines between personal and professional life. Makes me wonder how they will feel at the end of their life…. never having established themselves in a community outside of their homes.
 
Everything Feels Overly Complicated with Technology
The younger generation cannot understand the confusion that technology can create for older people. What should be a short cut, most of the time becomes a nightmare of trying to navigate something that shouldn’t be so hard. Sometimes my finger hits the wrong button or I make the wrong choice of the next step and then spend time trying to get back to the place to make the correct choice. From smart TVs with endless menus to grocery store checkouts that need apps and codes, even simple tasks now require tech knowledge. We feel left behind in a world that expects us to understand constant updates, passwords and platforms.
 
Music and Pop Culture Feel Foreign
Boomers had bands whose lyrics meant something and concerts that felt like shared moments. Streaming services, auto-tuned hits, and viral TikTok songs, feels more like noise than connection. It’s not that we don’t like new music, but rather that we struggle to find depth in a world that moves so quickly to the next big thing.
  
Personal Privacy Seems to Be Gone
Boomers remember when they kept things private unless they chose to share them. Now, people post their every move online, what they ate, who they're with, even their personal struggles. This constant public sharing feels overwhelming to many Boomers, who were taught to value modesty and boundaries. It feels less safe and we wonder about someone’s values when there is no modesty or boundaries.
 
Handwriting Has Nearly Disappeared
Boomers grew up writing thank-you notes, passing handwritten letters in school, and learning cursive by heart. Digital communication has nearly wiped out those small but meaningful traditions. Seeing kids type everything makes the world feel less personal. It's not just about writing; it's about the care that went into something handwritten, and the loss of that simple, thoughtful touch is hard to ignore.
 
Instant Gratification Replaces Patience
Waiting used to be part of life—waiting for film to develop, letters to arrive, or shows to come on once a week. It gave us time to think things through and consider options. Today, everything is on-demand, and people expect answers, replies, and results immediately. This feels exhausting for Boomers, who learned the value of patience and planning. It’s hard for us to understand how someone feels entitled by self-gratification right now!
 
Customer Service Isn't What It Used to Be
Boomers remember when store clerks knew your name and companies stood by their products. These days, it often feels like you're just another number in a system, talking to chatbots or being put on endless hold. That personal touch is missing, and it makes people who value relationships and trust feel unimportant. Good service once built loyalty—now it's a struggle to even speak to a real person.
 
Shopping Has Lost Its Social Side
Going to the store used to be a chance to get out, talk to people, and feel part of the community. We feel that we’ve lost the small social moments that once made life feel warmer and it’s created a world filled with impersonal reactions to our fellow human beings. Though online shopping, self-checkouts, and home deliveries are convenient, we’ve lost the small social moments that once made everyday life feel warmer. The young people have no way of learning how to deal with others on a personal level. And COVID in 2020 changed the way we respond to others, I’m afraid, forever. Too many younger people now hide behind screens.
 
Attention Spans Have Shrunk
In a world filled with short videos, quick scrolls, and fast-forward buttons, deep attention seems rare. Boomers who enjoyed reading books, watching full movies without distractions, or having long talks now find that people tune out fast. The art of real listening or focus seems gone. Slowing down to really absorb something feels out of place, even though it's still deeply valuable.
The News Feels Overwhelming and Untrustworthy
There was a time when you watched the evening news and trusted what you heard. Now, with countless outlets, nonstop headlines, and sensational stories, it's hard to know what's real. Boomers often feel drowned in noise rather than informed.
With the lack of trusted resources, we KNOW that most people are ill-informed, including ourselves. Our views are lopsided and negative because we no longer reason with the truth.
 
Traditions Are Fading Fast
Holidays, Sunday dinners, even handwritten birthday cards— Today's world moves fast, and fewer people slow down for these old customs. While change is natural, losing those rituals feels unfamiliar. These habits were the glue that held families and communities together. Without all of them, things can feel very hollow.
 
 

Song of My Soul

                                                    The Common Poorwill

                                                                                    https://www.inaturalist.org/guide_taxa/2414290
                                                                                        Birds of the Fort Worth Botanic Garden

 
The whip-o-will remains a symbol of summer nights in eastern North American forests, celebrated in folklore, poetry and music for its haunting, continuous call.
 
Certain things bring comfort to your soul. Mother often called certain meals “comfort food”, food that is known as southern comfort. I think there are sounds that are comfort sounds, especially if they have been a part of your world for a long period of time.  Such is the sound of the whip-o-will for me. 
 
Over 40 years ago, when my husband and I purchased nearly an acre of land and built a home on the outskirts of Austin in the Hill Country (we have since been overrun with development). It was a beautiful piece of land, surrounded by much wooded area; however, the large space of land behind us was used as Felder’s Follies. We were lucky enough to back up to a beloved piece of land that was owned by the builder, L.A. Felder, and he used it to graze cattle sometimes or just to keep it naturally mowed. He fed the wild turkey, and he loved and tended to this property.
 
When we moved in, there was already a fence across the back to keep the new homeowners from his property. Being that it was a wire fence, we have an open view across the field and beyond to the wooded area on the other side where there is a dry creek bed with natural cool water some of the time. This makes for great wildlife viewing.
 
The first summer we were here we put up a wooden fence around the other part of the property to keep our dogs on our land. Our helper for that project was my husband’s younger brother, and after a long day of digging post holes, I prepared our dinner and afterwards, we sat on the porch overlooking the land as twilight set in. Then I heard a sound for the first time, which I said from the beginning sounded like a whip o will. Each and every following spring, I looked forward to the return of the comfort sound, as I knew the summer months were not far away. It was a sound that represented our comfort zone, a place filled with peace and a time to slow down from the busy work schedule. This bird never failed us as it came year after year.
 
I never knew what it really was, until we purchased property at Possum Kingdom lake. I began to hear the sound there, as well. Our beloved neighbor, Skip Cox, told me it was most likely a poorwill, as that is what we have in that area. He was correct, as always. Sadly, with development now out there, I no longer hear their song at night. They survived two fires, but they can’t survive man’s bulldozers.
 
We are lucky enough to still hear them at our Hill Country home, though development is closing in. Felder passed away close to 30 years ago and donated his land to his church, the First Baptist Church in Austin. The church kept the land until recently, keeping the tradition of mowing it once a year. Then the property went up for sale. I held my breath daily, praying that it would not sale to someone who would rape the land and develop it into a nasty backyard neighbor. God answers prayer. A wealthy lady who owns Whole Foods purchased it for nostalgic reasons as she used to ride horses there and now, she wanted to bring her grandchildren closer in, to enjoy space together.
 
I am fortunate, as the comfort sound of the poorwill continues and I still find peace in my own backyard.  It never fails to take me back to the moment in time when I first heard the now familiar Poorwill and remember our precious baby brother, who passed away in 2019.

NOTES
Populations have declined in parts of their range, likely due to habitat loss and reductions in large moth and beetle populations. Conservation efforts focus on preserving open forest habitats and monitoring population trends.
Often heard but rarely seen due to its camouflage

The Folly of Modern Life

 

The Folly of Modern Life

Reader’s Digest April/May 2026 p 21

“Don’t Trim the Azalea”

 
I found this quote in an article that struck a chord with me. Often on our mountain property, I have commented that our purchased land doesn’t belong to me, but to the animals that call it ‘home’ every day. I’m just the traveler moving through, as this land has been there for eons.
 
“It’s a sad folly of modern life that we think we’re somehow separated from the natural fabric in which we live. It’s a perspective built on a calculus of artifice – brick by brick by technological advance, we’ve convinced ourselves that we live apart from the bird and the turtle and the fox. But it’s a perspective that diminishes the lives of both humans and wild creatures. In a world older and more complete than ours, animals move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.”   ~ Henry Beston The Outermost House.
 
The article goes on to say that in a lot of ways, how we live our lives is a matter of choosing how we wish to impact those “other nations.” A bird flushing from a side-yard Azalea is proof that those other nations aren’t “out there” in some abstract fashion: they live among us and with us and alongside us. Whether it’s a drive to the grocery store or an approach to lawn care, the act of everyday living has real-world impact on our furred, feathered, scaled and exoskeletoned fellow travelers. We either choose to ignore our impact on those other nations, or we choose to be as neighborly as possible.
 
There is an obligation that comes with living on the only planet we have. My little plot of land with huge pine trees and/or my neatly urban trimmed shrubs are not mine alone, nor is anywhere that I’ll ever plant a footprint in this life. The other nations are everywhere…and more reliant on harmony and benevolence than ever before.

Unlock Someone Else's Cage

 Unlock Someone Else’s Cage    

That’s my title for an article I found on FB

ALICE WALTON

Alice Walton: Billionaire Bridging Art & Community | Biography | Net Worth | Philanthrophy |

                She inherited a Walmart fortune that could buy a small country. What she did next shocked the art world—and changed thousands of lives. When Alice Walton inherited her share of the Walmart empire in 1992, she became one of the wealthiest women alive. Her stake in her father's retail kingdom would eventually grow to rival the economies of entire nations. Most people who inherit that kind of money spend their lives protecting it, multiplying it, treating wealth like a competitive sport with an ever-rising scoreboard.

                Alice saw something different in those numbers. She saw possibility.

Her father, Sam Walton, was the man who turned a single store in Arkansas into a global phenomenon. He was famously frugal - driving an old pickup truck even as his company became the largest retailer on Earth. When he died, he left his children more than money. He left them a choice about what to do with impossible wealth.

                While her brothers stepped into corporate leadership roles, managing the business that bears their family name, Alice walked a different path. Born in 1949, she grew up watching her father's relentless expansion, but retail never captured her imagination. While others counted profits, Alice was drawn to paintings.

                The question that defined her life became: What do you do when you have more money than a thousand lifetimes could spend? For most billionaires, the answer involves private collections, exclusive clubs, and the quiet accumulation of more wealth simply because the numbers can always go higher. Alice's answer was radical: she would give art away.

                In 2011, she opened the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, Arkansas—a town of 50,000 people nestled in the Ozarks. She spent over a billion dollars acquiring masterpieces by Georgia O'Keeffe, Andy Warhol, Norman Rockwell, and Jackson Pollock. The art world elite laughed. Why would anyone bring priceless American art to rural Arkansas?

Then she made it free. Forever.

                Alice's vision was beautifully simple: a child growing up in a trailer park deserves the same access to culture as a Manhattan socialite. Art shouldn't require a trust fund or a coastal zip code. It should belong to everyone.

Since opening, over six million people have walked those halls—school groups, farm families, travelers who suddenly had a reason to stop in Arkansas. By eliminating admission fees, she eliminated the invisible wall that separates culture from the people it's meant to inspire.

                But Alice didn't stop at art. She turned her attention to something even more urgent: healthcare. Rural America is hemorrhaging doctors. Communities across the heartland watch their hospitals close, their clinics disappear, their neighbors drive hours for basic care. Alice saw this crisis and decided to build a solution from the ground up. The Alice L. Walton School of Medicine opened its doors to students in 2024, focused on whole-health medicine and committed to training doctors who will serve underserved communities. She created substantial scholarships to ensure students graduate without crushing debt—removing the financial pressure that drives new doctors toward wealthy suburbs instead of rural towns.

                Alice Walton's story isn't about building wealth from nothing. It's about something equally rare: deciding what existing wealth should build.

The debates around wealth inequality and labor practices remain complex and valid. But Alice's choices offer a glimpse of what intentionality looks like at the highest levels of wealth. She inherited an empire but chose to create institutions that outlast quarterly earnings reports.

                She brought world-class art to forgotten towns. She's training doctors for communities the healthcare system abandoned. She didn't build the fortune, but she's deciding what it leaves behind.

                In a world where most billionaires treat wealth like a high score in an endless game, Alice broke the cycle. She realized that money can be either a cage of endless accumulation or the key that unlocks someone else's cage.

Most people spend their entire lives chasing more - more money, more status, more security - trapped in a hunger that grows with every zero added to the balance. Alice proved that the escape isn't found in having more. It's found in deciding that something else matters more.

She understood that the true measure of a fortune isn't its size. It's what it builds after the numbers stop mattering.

Charles Hulsey 1695 Sources

DILIGENT RESEARCHERS OF THE HULSEY FAMILY

Charles Hulsey (ca 1690) Notes. Pat Keene File.

 ...from Burl Hulsey - Jun 1995

 This information was given to me in Jun 1995 and is an addendum to The Hullsey Family that Burl wrote in 1985. According to Lou Pero, a good genealogist and publisher of the Hulsey Researcher, this Charles was born sometime before 1695, died between 1725 and 1729. His wife's name was Susanna. In 1722, this Charles was granted "85 acres of New Land in New Kent Co., VA on the E side of a mill pond lately belonging to Mrs. Alice Field, adj. Moses Wyatt, and Winslo's line, 18 Feb 1722, p177." (Cavaliers and Pioneers, Patent Book 11). Another researcher, Joe Green writes, "By 1729, this land was apparently in Goochland Co., VA, for we then find Susannah Hulsey, widow of Charles, living among the same neighbors.

 PURCHASE OF LAND -- FIRST PART p. 177

PUIRCHASE OF LAND -- LAST PART p. 178

RECORD FOUND IN LAND OFFICE GRANTS FROM THE LIBRARY OF VIRGINIA

HENRICO COUNTY DEEDS p. 52

Land Map of Charles Hulsey's Goochland Land

 INFORMATION BY WILLIAM HULSEY 1941

Charles Hulsey II Commentary and Conclusions

 Commentary and Conclusions:

Charles II was closely associated with the John Witt family until about 1778. He and the Witt family moved to the Halifax Co. VA – Surrey Co., NE area at the same time.

Charles II was closely associated with the John Matlock family from Goochland Co., VA to Greenville Co. SC. John Matlock was a brother-in-law, marrying Nancy Witt, the sister of Hanna Witt. Charles II's land in Greenville Co. SC was adjacent to John Matlock and Charles Estes, the father of Joshua Estes who married Elizabeth Hulsey.

He was functionally illiterate but took care to record his property transactions. He apparently was careful with his assets, having sufficient funds to purchase several properties over his lifetime.

There is some variance between the location of the births of his later children and the real estate records. The place of birth of his children has been changed to reflect Charles II's residence.

From 1766 until his death in 1792, his family was closely associated with the Cherokee, living close to the Indian boundary. Both sons and grandsons formed spouseless relationships with possibly Cherokee women. (During this period ministers would not marry a Cherokee to a white person.)

Charles II is not shown as serving in the Revolutionary War but Burke Co., NC was actively raided by the Cherokee during the period. (Two of his sons, James and Jesse, are listed as serving.) Burke Co., together with the adjacent Watauga communities of now TN, served as a refuge for families from SC and GA. The threat of British Major Ferguson to pacify Burke Co. and the Watauga communities led directly to the Kings Mountain Battle. Burke Co. Militia solders fought at both Kings Mountain and Cowpens, but there is no listing of Hulsey family members at either battle.

Charles Hulsey II is shown by the DAR as a Patriot Ancestor based on his supplying the Army and his sworn Oath of Allegiance.

Information from the research done by The Hulsey, Head and Huff Families of North Georgia.