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Archives for August 2021

No Labels?

August 26, 2021 By admin

labelsBut how will we be able to tell which generation to blame? That was my first thought when I saw that a group of demographers and social scientists was asking the Pew Research Center to stop promoting the use of generation labels (e.g.Silent Generation, baby boomers, Generation X, millennials, etc.).

It’s been all too easy to blame baby boomers for a whole host of societal ills, but if you stop to think about it, that means you’re blaming your 75 year-old brother along with a 63 year-old sister. You would expect twelve years age difference would have significant impact in their respective outlooks and behavior.

This name game supposedly started with the “Lost Generation” appellation in the late 19th century. But then it mushroomed into the Greatest Generation, the Beat Generation, Boomers, Gen X, Gen Z, Snowflake Generation, etc. The labels seem like fun, but when journalists and marketing firms start making generalizations about your generation, the party the fun is not so much.

Demographers say the classifications are not real, and you would have to acknowledge that at this moment in time there is one hell of a lot of disparity in what baby boomers are thinking and how they are behaving. Just take the last election or the current political party divide as one example of how useless it is to try to categorize baby boomers.

Maybe one day we can drop all the labels and just try to get along.

Nah! It will never happen. Everyone from journalists to armchair philosophers thinks they have a God given right to pigeonhole one generation after another, so good luck with ending that practice. Guess it’s up to us as individuals to try and stop labeling each other and just try to listen to each other.

Nah! That’s not going to happen either. You can just continue on with your stereotypes, and I’ll go on with mine.

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

She’s Ready

August 26, 2021 By admin

cannabis storeI woke up the other morning thinking, “I should get a job.” I used to like people. Maybe I could learn to like them again.

Yes! I could quit using cannabis, pass a drug test and get back in the workstream. I’ve read there’s a shortage of employees. Except I haven’t read anything about trying to lure back the 50 and 60-somethings they drove out in favor of snappy young talent. So, there’s that.

Oh, and then dealing with all those problematic young people. They are in charge now, and I liked it better the other way around.

I suppose I’d be the new troublemaker, asking for all sorts of special accommodations. You know I can’t sit in a regular chair for hours on end. And such ridiculous expectations. Forty hours a week, seriously? I could maybe squeeze in some Spider Solitaire, but when would I have time to swim, cook, walk, play golf, take naps, stretch or work on my art?

Clearly, a desk job is out of the question. Not good for my health.

Then I thought, I could be a budtender! I could get some training online and apply for a job at a dispensary. I imagined myself, silver hair flowing, adorned in turquoise jewelry, imparting sage cannabis wisdom.

Except being a budtender is a fancy name for working retail. Horrible hours and crummy pay. Sometimes they want you to work at night! What about dinner????? Not to mention whiny customers, and that’s kind of a deal-breaker for me. Any filters I may have had in the past are gone. It’s like retirement truth serum. Now I just say what I think, and I assure you, it won’t be good for sales.

The truth is, I love retirement. Time and freedom is a hard-earned gift, and I have no interest in going backward. My guess is the job idea is more about the ongoing isolation of COVID. Maybe a subconscious yearning for pre-pandemic life?

Except it will be post-pandemic life. Something new, different, maybe better in some ways. I mean, why not? An uncertain future, for sure, but with any luck we’ll still be here to explore it.

I’m ready.

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

 

Filed Under: ESSAY

Hi, Coach

August 26, 2021 By admin

Close up of running shoesI’ve known the family for what?…thirty years? Neighbors down the street. A shout and wave when the guy walked by and some fried chicken at the annual block party. Nice that he—and what’s his wife’s name again?—invited me to their 50th anniversary party. I probably won’t know anybody unless they included some of our other neighbors.

Man, they really did it up right with a huge white tent and caterers. Food looks good and tons of people. I’ll just drop off my anniversary card and stand over here for a while.

“Hi, coach.”

I don’t know this young woman. Apparently, she thinks she knows me. What is she, maybe 35ish. Trim. Looks like she works out.

“I’ve always appreciated that you got me into running. Still do three miles a day and a marathon once.”

I smile.

“I can still hear your voice on the last lap at State finals, “Reel her in. Pick up the pace. Can do. Can do, Sarah.”

So, her name is Sarah. Would’ve liked her for a daughter. I might have had to teach her to identify people better before engaging them in conversation. Still. She seems bright. Self-assured. Someone did a good job raising her.

“How do you like the party? All us sisters pitched in. I bought the beer. Want me to get you some?”

I shake my head, hold up my hand. Oh, so she’s one of the family. Do I remember a kid walking a dog? A beagle. Could have been her.

“Sarah!” another young woman calls. “Come say hi to coach Mack.”

Sarah looks over to a gathering of three more women about her age surrounding a pale, gray-haired man, washed-blue eyes, hunched. She looks back at me. Checks me out. My blond-gray hair, blue eyes, standing taller than the other guy. Tanned. She looks at the coach one more time then back at me. She hunches her shoulders in a ‘oops’ gesture.

I reach out, touch her shoulder. “Were you the sister who used to run with your dad? Go past my house every so often?” Sarah nodded. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know this, but the sight of you two jogging got me off the couch. Been running regular ever since. So, thanks coach.”

She bowed her head at me, a confused expression between pleased and embarrassed flitting across her face, and left to join her sister.

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

Leo’s Back In Town

August 4, 2021 By admin

Leonardo DaVinciAnother in a series of chance meetings with local celebs.

Coming out of the Cerrillos Road Sherwin Williams store (you know, the people with the Cover the Earth with paint logo), and who should I almost knock over but Leonardo.

Leo! Come va? I see you got your hands full with 2 gallons there. Fawn and burgundy is it? Working on something new?

Art is never finished, only abandoned.

Don’t I know it. I hope you’re doing something easier than a ceiling.

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

True dat. Hey, are you still seeing that babe with the great smile? I thought you two would make a great couple.

Marriage is like putting your hand into a bag of snakes in the hope of pulling out an eel.

Sheesh, man, you’re making me cry.

Tears come from the heart and not from the brain.

Well, in my opinion, Mona was a real looker.

The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions.

Hey, I was just saying she seemed like someone you could spend some quality time with.

Blinding ignorance does mislead us. O! Wretched mortals, open your eyes!

Harsh, but I hear you. Just looking out for you. You feel me?

The noblest pleasure is the joy of understanding.

That’s what I’m talking about. And people still respect your art. You’re still considered one of the greatest of all time.

Nothing should be so greatly feared as empty fame.

Gotcha. Well, I don’t want to hold you up, what with a gallon in each hand, I’m guessing you need to get to work.

As a well spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death.

A little too dark for me man, but it was good to see you again and know that you’re still painting. Arrivederci, ciao, ciao.

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

That’s All There Is?

August 4, 2021 By admin

road to nowhereAll in all, I’m where I want to be on this road to nowhere. No mortgage, and we’re in good shape financially. I feel busy but not too busy. I play golf, walk, swim, lift weights, cook, read, write, watch TV, listen to music, make art and grow cannabis.

Now that we’re fully vaccinated and the pandemic seems to be waning, we’re about to embark on our first camping trip in quite some time. I’m not up for flying anywhere just yet, but I can see some road trips in our future. We live near world-class wineries and enjoy tasting.

I don’t think I could have planned a better retirement, and yet lately I feel something is missing. Perhaps more social interaction? I’m terrible at mixing and mingling and usually can’t wait for it to be over. I never imagined I would take up art, but now I kind of wonder why it took so long. Hours alone, just me and the voices in my head slaving over some dot of color – it’s perfect.

A sense of accomplishment? That used to bother me, but I’ve changed my self-talk and decided I’m just fine without adding more feathers to my cap. Granted, this one is a moving target, as I continue to struggle with the urge to beat myself up for being just average.

Purpose? I don’t want a job, but I have some core skills, and I do like to help. By now you’re all saying, volunteer! While I suppose that’s the answer, I’ve avoided it because it’s one more intrusion into my otherwise quiet life.

We’ll have to see how this rolls out. Is this a gap worth further exploration or just a turn of mood that will evaporate as mysteriously as it arrived? Either way, I highly recommend stopping to assess your retirement journey.

What’s good? What’s missing? We may not have to work anymore, but let’s make sure retirement is working for us!

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

 

Filed Under: ESSAY

Quiet

August 4, 2021 By admin

cabin at nightAccording to my latest AARP Bulletin, noise is a (not very) silent killer. Several studies, as reported in Psychology Today, have indicated that chronic exposure to even the level of sound in nearby conversations and local traffic can boost stress hormones, blood pressure, and heart rates – all potentially lethal effects.

My partner Randy and I hadn’t read the AARP Magazine article or seen the study results when we decided to make the hour drive up to Hot Springs, NC from our home in Hendersonville. We were just looking for a brief getaway to celebrate 10 years since our first date. Hot Springs is a small town (population 560) at the edge of the Appalachian Mountains, famous for its healing mineral springs and the fact that the Appalachian Trail passes through the downtown, which also includes a brewery (of course), a few restaurants and art/craft galleries, and an old hardware store. So you don’t come for the downtown. You come for the activities, like rafting on the French Broad River, or hiking and biking on nearby trails. Or you can forgo the outdoor activities, as we did, and rent a cabin in the woods that includes a private outdoor hot tub filled with the famous warm mineral water.

Our cabin was on a farm, surrounded by other farms and framed by mountains. It was the most secluded of the three cabins on the property, nestled among tall trees, shielded from the gravel road leading to the other two cabins. The first thing we noticed after we parked and unloaded our car was the incredible, unusual quiet. Relaxing in the hot tub, soaking in the warm mineral water, we watched clouds pass overhead and the tops of trees moving in the breeze. Sitting on the screened porch, we heard only the soft sound of the woods. Sipping wine, we watched the day move slowly into night, saw the fireflies come out, and listened to the changing bird and animal sounds around us. That night, we realized we couldn’t find the lock on the sliding door that led out to the porch from the living room. Our peacefulness morphed into edginess as our isolation took another meaning. Are we too alone? We left the light on and closed the door to the bedroom. The next morning we reemerged into another day of quiet, and the woods, we decided, were our best medicine after all.

Lee Stevens enjoys writing, weaving, and Quiet time in Hendersonville, NC

 

Filed Under: ESSAY

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