My sister ‘n me

(Photo taken in 1960, me, Sharon and my Dad)

I love the fact that no matter how old I become, there is always something new to learn, about others, about our world, and most surprising, about me. I recently began learning to post on TikTok because Booktok, a part of TikTok, is an excellent platform for promoting your book. Oh, great! Just when I’ve learned to somewhat navigate my way around FB and Instagram, not to mention creating and sending my newsletter on Constant Contact, I now feel I should learn to use TikTok. 

What’s really funny about the idea of creating TikTok videos is that I historically have been known to run the other direction from a video camera. Years ago, when the original cameras came out, I’d head in the other direction if someone pointed the lens at me and told me to say something. Thanks, but no thanks. 

So when I anticipated making my first TikTok video, I wasn’t sure I would do very well. But if you had asked me a year ago if I thought I could talk on a radio show about my book, I would have likely said no. And I’ve now done two shows and hoping for more. Promoting my book has pushed me beyond my comfort zone, and I’m finding it rather thrilling. 

So I watched many videos to learn the dos and don’ts of TikTok. A few weeks ago, I locked myself away in the bedroom, told Rick not to listen through the door, lol, and I began. I made four videos on the first day, short ones about me learning to use TikTok. I decided to have fun with my mistakes, and by the end, I was laughing at myself, so hopefully, others found it humorous. I’ve done a few since, and I feel a little more knowledgeable and confident with each session. One of these days, when I figure out how to post my videos to Instagram, I will begin uploading them. But for now, if you want to see them, my username on TikTok is (surprise, surprise) Waywardyogini. 

Seeing and hearing yourself on the camera can really be uncomfortable. The first question I had was, what’s wrong with my voice? I used some of the lessons I talk about in my book, like being kind to myself and allowing the years to shine through. After all, I’m 66 years old. I gave myself a few pep talks and then gave the voice in my head an ultimatum, “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all!” 

I followed my rules. Instead of picking myself apart, I began to have fun, imagining that I was talking with a friend. This may sound really strange, but it’s been interesting to get to know me from an outside perspective, for instance, what my eyebrows do when I talk, the expression in my eyes when I’m joking as opposed to what I look like when I’m serious. I’ve been told that I don’t have a poker face, and I can see the truth now. I must have been born to be a storyteller because my face tells the story long before my words.

One of the nicest things I noticed is that I reminded myself of my sister Sharon. I’m not even sure what I’m seeing that looks like Sharon, but there is something unmistakable that connects me to my sweet sister, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.

Sharon was my father’s daughter from a previous marriage. The first time I met her, I was five, and she was 18. She came to live with us for a brief time, about three months. I fell head over heels in love with her. Our house had a bedroom downstairs, and I vividly remember spending time with her in her room. She would scratch my back, something to this day that I love more than almost anything. 

My parents’ marriage was pretty stormy; both were alcoholics. I’m sure Sharon must have seemed like a dream come true for me. My mother was jealous, and my love for Sharon likely felt like a stab to the heart. But what do children know except for what feels good? And boy, Sharon was a port in the storm for sure.

Sharon only stayed with us for three months, at which time she left to get married, but a bond had been created that has never faded. We’ve always lived very far from one another, but we have remained connected and close at heart regardless of the miles or the limited visits we’ve enjoyed. Sharon is a sweet woman, and I’ve been lucky to call her my sister. And now, I will smile inwardly, knowing that little Suzy managed to steal some indescribable mannerism from her big sister that she still carries to this day. I need only watch one of my videos to enjoy that.

Thank you, big sis.