Help! There's a Tigress in the House: When a Husband Retires, and Other Diversions [Paperback]

"When the retirement gun sounded, my husband barked his last order and left his executive desk silhouetted in the sunset. He stalked into my home territory, there to stay, to rule my domain. In a flash, I turned into a fierce Tigress, defending my lair." A collection of light-hearted vignettes for retirees by an award-winning writer. Helen Glissmeyer is a freelance journalist who has published a few hundred articles in local and national newspapers and magazines. After receiving numerous awards for her writing over the years, she was named "Writer of the Year" by the League of Utah Writers in 2002. She resides in Holladay, Utah, with her retired husband, and has two sons, two daughters and 13 grandchildren. "I've read that a tigress will protect her own territory with all her striped might. She will not let another animal trespass her lair without a fight. And if provoked, the cat will bellow a roar that can be heard for two miles. Such a tigress once lived at my house. When her territory was invaded, she fought for her rights, and she roared a terrible roar. I was that tigress. I turned into a defensive, unpleasant beast when my husband retired. Before that event, I had been the epitome of a happy homemaker. I had overcome the depression of seeing all my little birdies fly from the nest, and at last enjoyed the freedom of quiet solitude. I reveled in sleep-late mornings, low-cal lunches and hobby-laden afternoons. I was an idol of independence and a queen of my palace. In the meantime, high on the 18th floor of a downtown tower, my husband ruled his own white-collar kingdom. He cracked the whip over a herd of accountants and secretaries. Each morning my husband awoke ready to take command of his office empire. At the same time, he let me blindly believe I was in control of my home space."

Someone has said, "If you don’t use it, you lose it."

This is true of a person’s mind. If not exercised regularly, soon it will get weaker and weaker and can’t be relied upon to remember a next-door-neighbor’s name, a brother’s birthday, or an appointment with the dermatologist.

So that’s why I write, to stimulate my thought processes. Writing does help. After a few weeks chained to my word processor, I now can tell you who lives next door. It’s . . . a . . . you know, good-old-what’s-her name. My brother’s birthday is sometime in April, or is it May? And, whoops! my dermatologist appointment was yesterday. Well, anyway, I write because I like to.

Actually, I’ve written all kinds of stuff most of my life. A few hundred of my articles have been published in magazines and newspapers. But I know that people just read ‘em and toss ‘em. One or two friends have saved a column or two. Copies of my tigress piece, the title essay of this book, have been tucked away in a few drawers. That piece has been around longer than most of the others. It has found its way into newspapers in several states, and also in Canada and even in India. In India the editors gave me a different first name in my by-line. Kamakshi. That’s so the people of India wouldn’t realize it was written by a foreigner.

In this book I have gathered some of my published essays, or minute memories, and have added a few more. I purposely made them short for quick reading. In book form, perhaps my words won’t get thrown away so soon. I hope they’ll get to snuggle in the bookcase with Jane Austen and Ernest Hemingway. You know, like a donkey running in the Kentucky Derby.

The individual sketches are meant to be read one or two at a time. You might keep them in your bathroom reading rack or take them to bed to promote sleep. Most of the essays are light, but some may lean toward the emotional. Hope the mixture is congenial like peanut butter and jam. I’ve written about a solemnizer, a suit that’s wayworn (wearied by traveling), birds who hate heavy metal music, and a squirrel in the furnace, plus more bits of this and that. I’ve tried to have something for everybody over 50. But it’s okay, too, if younger people read this book.

Helen Glissmeyer is a freelance journalist who has published a few hundred articles in local and national newspapers and magazines. One article, her title essay in this book, was published in India and Canada, as well as several states in the United States. Helen also has published The Right Knight and the Wrong Daze" a book of poetry "for children and grownups they know." After receiving numerous awards for her writing over the years, she was named "Writer of the Year" by the League of Utah Writers in 2002. She resides in Holladay, Utah, with her retired husband, and has two sons, two daughters and 13 grandchildren.