BoomSpeak

  • ESSAY
  • FICTION
  • TRAVEL
  • ARTS
  • About Us

Archives for July 2021

What A Croc

July 21, 2021 By admin

pile of crocsSaw a social media alert the other day that proclaimed boomers just can’t give up some uncool things. What followed was an interesting list that came as a slideshow, forcing you to click NEXT over and over in order to see the list. Oh, and you also had to see dozens of ads of course. The ultimate click bait exercise. But, since my mission is to write about all things boomer, I dutifully clicked through the list.

Leading off the list of uncool things that boomers cannot quit was Jorts. Know what those are? I never heard of the term, but the accompanying photo showed a man wearing blue jean shorts. Get it? Jorts. The site insisted that jorts were ridiculous because denim is too heavy to be worn as shorts. Can’t say that I disagree but I also can’t say that I’ve seen any baby boomers wearing them.

Next on the list was 24-hour news. Boomers are uncool because they watch 24-hour news? But on the upside, it might make them more well-informed than people who only watch the Bachelorette. This was followed by Hawaiian Shirts. Now we’re getting somewhere. Boomers probably do wear too many of these shirts, but rarely with jorts so that should count for something.

Then came Dad Slacks, Home Shopping Networks and Velcro Shoes. Fine with me. Those really are very passé. Likewise, Cruises, All-You-Can-Eat Buffets, Sweepstakes and Crocs could go the way of the dodo bird and I wouldn’t shed any tears.

Three items on the list baffled me. Emailing, Ironing and Toast. Sure, texting and DM’s are the dominant forms of communication for all of us, but emails are still useful for complex content. And ironing a nice cotton shirt to wear for an evening out? What’s your problem? Toast? It’s not as cool as waffles and breakfast burritos apparently. Try it with buttered homemade bread slathered with homemade jam and then try to tell me that toast is toast.

And you’re welcome. I clicked through all those stupid ads just for you.

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

Filed Under: ESSAY

Why Write?

July 21, 2021 By admin

ballpoint pen writingAnn Pattchet’s Bookstore asks, ‘why write?’ when there are so many great writers out there. It’s in Nashville. And as if there isn’t enough music on every corner and bar to grab you by the ears, inside the bookstore there is a recital in progress with a series of singers performing their party pieces to polite applause. More overwhelming than yet more music is the sheer number of books, books, books. The store has half a wall dedicated to Ann’s works alone. Rows of her paperbacks and hardcovers grouped by subtle colors and size are surrounded in turn by Clancy’s and Grisham’s and Patterson’s garish, grinning teeth begging for extraction.

I wonder why I should try to write when there are already so many words and sentences and pages and books to hand. I had just seen a sign down the road—WE BUY BOOKS. Books deftly crafted of stanzas and theses and similes and tropes treated like so much unwanted jewelry for WE BUY GOLD purveyors. A writing student, after hearing an essay rife with metaphors, asked, “Why do we needs all those riddles?” Good question. Riddles and puzzles—who killed whom in the kitchen with what? What can I possibly add to that looming avalanche of plots and outlines, research and drama that would be new or interesting or insightful? Especially when there are so many superb writers, elegant wordsmiths, more sensitive and insightful than I.

I feel like the guy huddled in a doorway on Nashville’s Broad Street, tapping rhythms on his knee, begging for attention, his hat on the sidewalk for offerings to his minor skills while two doors down, full-fledged musicians play amplified country western with drums, guitars and fiddle behind three-part harmony. And just around the next corner are the recording studios for the actual name artists making CDs to sell after road shows and guest appearances.

I guess it’s all a matter of scale…so to speak. Just because a kid will never be a concert pianist is no reason to give up piano lessons. It’s the moment of creativity that makes it all worthwhile. The Rumpelstiltskin moment of making gold from straw when we suddenly connect unlike or unexpected thoughts and images into something new and original. That’s what makes writing worthwhile, if only for ourselves. As if that’s not enough.

Retired trainer, and writing instructor, Joe Novara and his wife live in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Writings include novels, short stories, a memoir and various poems, plays, anthologies and articles. Read more at https://freefloatingstories.wordpress.com/

Filed Under: ESSAY Tagged With: Ann Pattchet's Bookstore, books, gold, Nashvile

Sylvia and I Aren’t Dancing

July 21, 2021 By admin

waltz legsWe don’t like to waltz. It’s a matter of taste. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. It’s annoyingly old-fashioned.

I’m Sylvia’s best friend, completely content to watch the ash from my cigarette burn and fall, singeing the shag carpet in the Elks Hall. Sylvia broke up with her boyfriend because she found him nuzzling the nurse with pouty lips and curly red hair. I generally think men wimps, perhaps useful if they can rise to the occasion. But even then, I don’t find much pleasure in their bull-dozing ways.

My dad left for another woman when I was twelve, two weeks before my first period. So my emotional investment in men is kinda small.

“Want another drink?” I ask.

“Not yet,” Sylvia says.

Except for the breakup, she usually postpones decisions. When eating out, she always asks the waitress for more time to choose between the chicken salad and club sandwich, questioning whether the sourdough is worth the calories before biting her lower lip. When dressing for work, she pulls out her blue shirtwaist and red skirt then thinks about them over Rice Krispies. We’ve shared an apartment for three years, and I’m used to her delays. I’m used to Sylvia in a way that makes it impossible to think of not rooming with her.

I love the way she wears her beret on bad hair days, tilting her head and flipping one side of her hair over her shoulder and pulling the other over her breast.

“Do I look French?” she asks.

“Mais oui.”

I love the way she holds her cigarette, wrist resting on her knee, smoke drifting to the side like a ghost train leaving the station.

I love to watch her sleep. Listen to her talk in her dreams. Sometimes I answer. Sometimes I cry. I think I would kill her if she left.

The band announces the last dance, “Cherish” by The Association. A couple of guys are looking our way. I kidnap her cigarette, take a drag and crush it. I stand and offer my hand with a slight bow.

Chella Courington is from Santa Barbara, CA

 

 

 

Filed Under: FICTION

Liar, liar…

July 7, 2021 By admin

mule teamI’m the last person who would sign up for a high school reunion, but I freely admit I am curious to know what happened to everyone. Maybe I could just read the book (or wait for the movie). It would be fun to know if some of the high school girlfriends got married (and whether they are still married or twice divorced by now). There’s also the fantasy where the goody two shoes girl who could do nothing wrong got busted on a prostitution charge, but that never happens. She really was perfect, and still is, although she has paid a tremendous price by enduring 30 years of therapy to try to feel like something approaching normal. I have some perverse curiosity about whether Doug still plays the trombone and was Barry really gay or just pretending to be. We didn’t even use the word gay back then! Do the former majorettes still have thighs that can mesmerize me, or are those days gone forever?

Back in my hometown on one of my infrequent visits, I heard a woman’s name mentioned that I knew was familiar. She was the mother of a high school classmate who was a good friend. I approached and explained that I had gone to high school with her daughter. She remembered me and we struck up a conversation.

“So what is she doing now?” I really wanted to know.

“She is raising llamas in Maine.”

“Wow, that’s different.”

“She loves it. She started about 5 years ago and it’s turned into quite a business, harvesting the llama wool.”

“I know she always loved animals, but it seems like a surprising career choice.”

“You never know what life has in store for you. What are you doing now?”

There it was. The big loaded question. What are you doing now? Do you tell the truth or make up the big lie? Has your life been so boring that you can’t bear to tell the truth to someone who is almost a stranger? What’s wrong with me? Why am I debating this question with myself?

“I’m running a mule team,” I replied with a straight face. “If you think wrangling llamas is difficult, try hitching a bunch of independent-minded mules to a harness and getting them to do something at the same time.”

“I’ll bet that is tricky,” the mother said. She was looking at me with a sidelong glance, maybe trying to see it if I was putting her on. “You must love it though.”

“Oh sure, I get the biggest kick out of it.” And I really meant it.

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

 

Filed Under: FICTION

Airing It Out

July 7, 2021 By admin

falling wooden blocksSome of us chose retirement, and others were squeezed out or forced out of jobs earlier than they had hoped. Or maybe it got so bad you just said, screw it, I’m out of here.

If you’re still sad or angry about what happened to you at work, perhaps it’s time to accept and forgive. Here’s my spin on it. Almost like a variation of Festivus with the airing of workplace grievances. It helps to laugh.

Even though I made it to the finish line relatively unscathed, I had one awful job toward the end of my career that left me feeling quite bitter.

I try not to think about it much, but last week I was digging through files on my computer looking for an old picture of me with adorable hair, because you, know, the struggle is real, when I found a folder marked MFR.

What was this? I double-clicked, and there it was. A detailed chronicle of the one job I’ve tried to forget. A Memorandum for Record is what I called it – a long and painful documentation of bad behaviors and harassment that pretty much left me crying every day for a year.

As I read through my notes with fresh eyes, I finally realized it wasn’t all about me. I was caught in a web of complex corporate norms and cut-throat politics.

There were bad actors in high places, weak lieutenants and one low-level sociopath who lived on the blood of destruction. Everyone else operated under the theory that only the whale that surfaces gets harpooned.

In the end, I came out whole, better than whole, so I decided to accept and forgive. I just said, this is it, no more. Bitterness is not an emotion I want to live with. And I’ll say this, something about letting go just makes you feel better in every way. I feel lighter. A weight has been lifted.

True, there’s no forgiveness in my heart for the sociopath or the person who provided top cover, so acceptance will have to suffice. I decided to just accept that what happened happened and release myself from the internal drama … almost like being an observer, watching the whole thing from afar. As a result, they no longer live rent-free in my head. That seems like a fair trade.

Anyway, that’s my perspective, and I guess it applies to just about any negative emotions we can’t quite dump. Maybe we can move on if we keep trying.

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

 

Filed Under: ESSAY

One Downsmanship

July 7, 2021 By admin

trailer pakrMartin strolled through the resort. They call it a resort he mused, but it’s actually a trailer park…a nice trailer park, for sure, on a canal to the Gulf but, most importantly, it’s a spot under the soothing southern sun after months of snow-blown Michigan. Down to his T-shirt to open his ‘fifth wheel,’ he exulted in the first-of-the-season feeling of indecent exposure from walking around in his underwear—a mobile solar panel soaking up vitamin D and energy. An alligator was doing the same on the boat launch. I can relate, buddy, he thought to himself, as he skirted wide.

“Martin! Hi!” a woman called from a lounger across the broad lawn. Damn, he thought, I can’t remember her name.

“Looks like you just got here,” she called as he approached, “your skin is so white.”

And if you keep baking in the sun your skin’s gonna look like that gator’s, he mulled. Irene. That’s her name. Haven’t thought of her once since last season. Her and her organ recital of health problems. Nobody can top her troubles. But not this time. If she tries to one-up me…

“So how was your fall and winter up North?” she asked as Martin approached.

“Not bad…some health stuff.”

“Hope it wasn’t as bad as my issues,” she said. Aha, here it comes, he thought. “Last March, just before heading home, I sat on a chair by the pool and one of the legs broke. Next thing I knew I was flat on my back and an Egret was staring me in the face. Needed five stitches on my scalp.”

“Hope you don’t have any ‘egrets’ from the whole thing. Hah!”

Irene gave him stink-eye and announced, “I had to do Physical Therapy and use a walker for two months.”

Okay, top this lady… “Well, how about me. I stepped into a groundhog hole in my garden. Sunk up to my knee. Had to call 911 to get me out. Still can’t walk without a hitch.”

“Oh, yeah? Well I had to have hip replacement,” Irene said as she reached for her cell phone. “Here, let me show you pictures of the x-ray…”

Oh no you don’t, he thought. “Uh-huh, well I had to have prostrate surgery…and it wasn’t the computer kind I can tell you. You should see my scar,” he said as he started unbuckling his pants.
Irene got a funny look on her face before turning her back and mumbling, “Later, Martin.”

Retired trainer, and writing instructor, Joe Novara and his wife live in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Writings include novels, short stories, a memoir and various poems, plays, anthologies and articles. Read more at https://freefloatingstories.wordpress.com/

Filed Under: FICTION

Recent Posts

  • Phone Zombie!
  • Ladies in the Locker Room
  • Under the Shadow
  • Upside to the Downhill?
  • Weaving Lessons

Archives

  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016

Older Archives

ESSAYS
FICTION
ARTS
TRAVEL
Pre-2014

Keep up with BoomSpeak!

Sign up for BoomSpeak Email blasts!

Select list(s) to subscribe to


By submitting this form, you are consenting to receive marketing emails from: DesignConcept, 1395 Barranca De Oro, Santa Fe, NM, 87501, http://www.boomspeak.com. You can revoke your consent to receive emails at any time by using the SafeUnsubscribe® link, found at the bottom of every email. Emails are serviced by Constant Contact
boom_blog-icon        facebkicon_boomspk        dc06_favicon

Copyright ©2016 · DesignConcept