Archives for December 2018

Shopping these days is certainly becoming a novel experience for baby boomers. We grew up with a whole host of brick and mortar stores, from Sears and J.C. Penney, to E.J. Korvette and Kaufmann’s. Shopping meant putting on decent clothes and getting in the car to go downtown. Ladies supposedly wore white gloves to have lunch in the tea room at Hutzler’s in Baltimore. Urban renewals across the country killed off a lot of downtown shopping but the stores just moved to the shopping centers and malls on the edge of town. New locale, same stores and brands.

Small independent stores used to make up the bulk of the retail landscape. Around sixty per cent in the 1960s with chains accounting for twenty-nine per cent. Now, independents barely account for seven per cent. Mergers of chain stores happened so fast that the change barely registered. But look around now. Sears is in bankruptcy, Macy’s is failing, and many other department stores are struggling to hang on in the face of online shopping.

Now we don’t have to get out of our pajamas to buy whatever we want from Amazon Prime and have it the next day, or soon in an hour via drone. Groceries can be ordered online and delivered to your door. We do our own product research via customer reviews and probably know more than the sales person on the store floor. Sixty-seven per cent of millennials prefer to shop online. Forty-one per cent of baby boomers do as well, while only 28 per cent of seniors prefer that method. Those seniors may not be able to fight the trend much longer.

One type of shopping that has prevailed is catalog sales. Around holiday time our mailboxes are filled with pages plastered with delights. Food, clothes, gear and toys are still be hawked the old fashioned way in a catalog. The ordering, payment and delivery options have all been updated with quick and easy online systems, but the wishful thinking still begins with a paper presentation. It’s amazing that consumers still enjoy shopping that way.

What’s next? Drone delivery has already been mentioned but trips to a live entertainment driven retail venue could also make a comeback. Going to the mall is still a form of entertainment, so perhaps creative retailers can draw us back to a physical marketplace. Some place where you can feel the cashmere, sit on the bicycle, taste the brie or try out the fishing rod. Just maybe.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

 

 

When I was 14, my friend, Susie, invited a few of us for a sleepover on Friday night. Her backyard was an avocado grove that sloped to a drainage ditch we called the La Branca. It had rained heavily that evening, so the next day we took Styrofoam boogie boards and rode them down into the ditch, where we happily paddled downstream.

Of course, it was dangerous. I can hardly believe I did it, and now I envision being sucked into the sewer or wherever that little ditch goes. My mother was horrified. I remember her telling my dad, “Donna played in a ditch Saturday morning.”

In recent years, I’ve been pretty tame. I avoid bad weather and hunker down inside. Until today.

We have a regular Tuesday golf group and most canceled because of anticipated rain. I was the first one to arrive at the golf course, and it was deserted. This was about 9:30 a.m., and my tee time was 10:04. It was sprinkling off and on, but the big rain was expected around 12:30 p.m. I putted a little bit and checked my emails. Two more had canceled. I thought, I could wait around another 30 minutes and be the only one here. I’m going for it.

I asked the guy in the shop if I could go out alone, and he said sure, he’d tell anyone in my group who showed up I got an early start to try and beat the rain. Rain, you can’t stop me! I was dressed in multiple layers with a rain jacket over it all. And a good hat.

Not that golf is dangerous in the rain unless there’s lightening, but it’s kind of a mess. I’ve been sort of a fair weather golfer lately, but I was ready to begin the adventure. I usually walk, and I considered taking a cart, but I figured wet is wet. A cart won’t save me, and my pull cart has an umbrella.

It was so much fun. I had the course to myself, and I felt like a kid again. It did get pretty wet out there, but I managed to walk 18 holes in three hours … before the big deluge. But it was fun! If I weren’t retired, I might have felt ripped off, but I have plenty of time, and I like to stay active. That said, as I’ve gotten older, I’m pickier about enjoying the outdoors in less than ideal conditions.

As I walked up to the golf shop, I saw the rest of the group. Just three brave souls. They quit at the turn, where they were happy to see the club house, and we decided gather inside for a bite to eat.

And that was my only mistake. Sitting there for an hour in wet clothes gave me a chill. On the way home, I put the car heater on high and heated up my seat, too. I really didn’t warm up until I got home and took off those wet clothes. My golf junk is soaked and drying out in the garage.

I’ve come to think whatever your sport, whatever your weather, if you’re properly dressed, a little nastiness won’t hurt you. What do you think? Ride it out inside or go for it? For me, it was just plain fun, and in the future, I will be more open to getting outside when it’s wet.

But super cold weather? Let’s sit by the fire and talk about that for awhile.

Donna Pekar is an aging badass (for real) who lives in California and writes Retirement Confidential.

 

I know it’s coming but I hope not too soon.

I’m talking about that time when I will have to downsize. Inevitably. Move to a smaller home, or maybe an apartment.

What got me thinking about this was an old lady I met who told me about her mink coat. By old, I mean 90-something. By mink coat, I mean full-length politically incorrect coat that she can’t wear anymore because she’s shrunk so much it drags on the floor, and she now lives in a climate so warm that she’d melt under its weight even in January.

She showed me the coat and told me how proud her late husband had been to be able to save enough to finally buy it for her. I couldn’t help but think about what the coat must have actually cost the family if it was so hard for them to afford it. But she loved having that coat and she loves it still. Even though all it ever does now is catch dust in her closet.

And I thought about how many useless possessions I’ve acquired in my life. Items I love that no one else will care about when I’m gone. Do I really love them? Are they really important? Were they ever? Some day I will have to cut back. On something. And where will I start? And stop?

This is not meant to be a sad story. By realizing that I may need to move on to smaller digs, I’ve come to really appreciate what I have now. To savor the view of the mountains on my daily walk. To think about the things I have: How much do I love them? Could they maybe serve a better purpose if I pass them on to someone else? Now. Or in a year or two, after I’ve loved them for a while longer. I’m less inclined to take what I have for granted. I know how lucky I am. And when I find a sweater I haven’t worn for five years I no longer think that maybe I’ll wear it some day. I think: someone can use this now. I can give a gift that costs me nothing and would mean a lot to someone else.

Maybe this is part of growing up. Or growing old. However you want to look at it. But it makes me more happy than sad. It’s a good new chapter.

Norma Libman is a journalist and lecturer who has been collecting women’s stories for more than twenty years. You can read the first chapter of her award-winning book, Lonely River Village, at NormaLibman.com.