Archives for November 2023

Think your kids/relatives are going to want your stuff when you’re gone. They’ll take your money for sure, but pass on the stuff. You can’t blame them. No one does formal entertaining anymore so what the heck can you do with china and glass service for 12?

The real shock comes when boomers ask the kids what they want and they are truly stumped by the question. Not the antiques, not the expensive furniture, not the rocking chair, definitely not the photo albums. Clothing? Real fur? No way. Women might nibble at the purses and men will cherry pick some tools, but that may be the best you can expect. Scroll through eBay and you’ll see what people are almost begging you to take off their hands.

Younger generations live for the most part in smaller homes/apartments, and their taste is dramatically different from yours. Just the idea of sorting through all your belongings is a major turn-off.

You could start selling off your stuff but even that comes with some disappointments. Nothing that you own is worth what you think it is. Not even close. Entire dining room sets for $100? Big pieces that no one wants just end up broken down and tossed.

Whatever you do, experts advise don’t put it in storage. That ends up being someone’s major headache down the line and the kids still won’t want any of it, which means it’s going to strangers or the landfill.

Do you really want to think about your kids or relatives going through your belongings to cull anything of value? If you’re trying to give them the stuff now, what you’re really doing is downsizing yourself while you try to upsize them.

Experts advise that you ask the offspring/relatives what they want and give it to them NOW. When you’re gone, the removal company can come in and take care of whatever is left. Don’t feel bad. You enjoyed your stuff. It doesn’t mean that anyone else needs to love it or live with it.

Final advice from the pros is do not put this off. Dispensing with a lifetime’s accumulation of possessions is neither easy nor quick. Donating your possessions to people that really need them will make you feel better, knowing it’s going to people who need and appreciate it.

The good news is that your abode will look a lot and feel more roomy and be easier to clean. You can finally get that RoombaVacuum!

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. You can also visit his author page here. His newest mystery novel, Rio Puerco Demise is available on Amazon. His first mystery novel, Head Above Water, is also available on Amazon. But that’s not all. You can also purchase the Best of BoomSpeak on Amazon.

It was after dinner that I was at my computer working on some documents when I noticed something from my right side near the bookcase in the corner floating down to the floor. It was a white piece of paper and for some reason, I keep on working on my computer.

After a couple of minutes, I still saw this white piece of paper and where could it come from. So, I got up and went over to pick it up, and to my surprise when I turned it over it was a photo. It was a picture of my late life partner Bill; he was standing next to a large purple Budda and Bill was rubbing his stomach for good luck. It was taken in Las Vegas many years ago and I had forgotten I had it. But where in the bookcase could this have come from?

I was not surprised at this because I have noticed other happenings when Bill would come to visit. He was quiet and not to be seen when he came to visit. Having these occurrences was a good thing that he was happy and was checking up on me and my cat Harriet.

Then less than a week later I came into the bedroom/office and found another piece of white paper on the floor again by the bookcase. I thought what could this be? I picked it up and to my surprise, it was another photo. This time it was Bill with my sister June and her husband Izzy. It too was taken in Las Vegas at one of the casinos. They were all smiling and happy.

I have been visited by family members before and thought it was a good idea to have them visit. Some people may not believe in these visits, but I enjoy them. There is a mystery to these times and what I find around the house. When I told my sister June, she first did not believe me and what were the chances that this one photo would be found on the floor.

Who knows when the next time someone will come and leave a hint that they have come to say hello? All these hellos have been good and reassuring that they are here around us and keeping an eye on us.

Robert A Bak lives in Albuquerque, NM

I went to a therapist for acupuncture treatment on my feet—strange intimacy with oil and tiny needles between toes. Ever had anything like that?

Funny thing. The lady wore a mask. Was it standard sterile procedure or carry-over Covid precaution? Strangely, I had to wear one too, even though folks were no longer doing that, these days. So, to get to the point, I could not see the therapist’s face. She seemed nice enough. Spoke with a foreign accent…middle European perhaps. Afterwards, as she scanned my credit card, I felt a compulsion to see what she looked like.

Perhaps this need arose from my current enrollment in a senior online dating site which, as often as not, offered a prospective hook-up with no photo attached. Explanations for that, I suppose, range from lack of a good camera to outdated photographs to unflattering selfies. I certainly know about that. I was a photographer in a hospital setting and when a female subject demurred over a PR or ID pic, by saying “I don’t take a good picture.” I invariably responded with, “There’s no such thing as a non-photogenic woman. There’s just a clumsy photographer.” That is, until I showed up for a shot with a genuinely attractive nurse and later had to admit she was right. She didn’t take a good picture, because obviously I wasn’t clumsy.

Back to my masked pin pusher. I was curious. I wanted to see what she looked like under her mask. Working in a hospital for twenty years, I got pretty good at reading expressive eyes flashing above the ubiquitous lower-face shield. I could tell that this lady was warm and friendly.

Still, there are boundaries—fine lines to be maintained between modesty and mystery, burkas and bikinis. I needed to respect that. But hey, since Covid has slowed down we no longer need to play Lone Ranger and Tonto asking “Who was that masked man?” So, I straight-out asked if she would mind lowering her mask so I could see her smile. She did and offered the expected full grin that her eyes had telegraphed.

Funny, isn’t it, how we don’t think to notice something until it’s covered up, that it doesn’t become a mystery until we hide it. Except, I still don’t think nudist colonies quite make sense.

Retired trainer, and writing instructor, Joe Novara lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Writings include novels, short stories, a memoir and various poems, plays, anthologies and articles. In, Pinata Belly, and other tales of later love, Novara reminds of the limits and ultimate hope for online dating sites.

I was on the way to play golf one day last week, when a truck pulled out in front of me presumably because he couldn’t stand being behind another truck for another second. Something about that transaction resulted in the spewing of rocks, which hit the windshield of my brand-new car.

As my mother used to say, I can’t have nice things.

Anyway, the result was two tiny dings. My insurance company paid to repair them – no deductible applied. The dings are sealed and safe and barely noticeable, but I still see them, of course. Honestly, as a recovering perfectionist, they don’t bother me. It’s just a car. I wasn’t injured. We all get dinged up in the end.

I’m surprised and happy I didn’t go all psycho because my pretty car got a boo-boo. I have come a long way. I attribute my progress to retirement. Aging. At some point, you just can’t hang onto that stuff.

Speaking of aging and dings, a close friend of mine is getting her face done. You know, injectables and all that. She has done it before with fantastic results. I was happy for her then, and I’m happy for her now. She’s had her share of life’s unwanted gifts, and a subtle tightening of the face lifted her spirits immeasurably.

But I do wonder if I’m going to be the only one left who looks my age. I squandered some time the other day looking at before and after pictures, and it’s impressive stuff. I even looked at pictures of women with gray hair who decided to go back to dying it.

It seems to me if you have the money and the will, you can easily look 10 years younger. It was tempting for a minute or two, but I actually like how I’ve aged – gray hair, dings and all. I care more about keeping my body in reasonably good shape so I can continue to enjoy outdoor activities. I played golf earlier this week with a 92-year-old man who walked the course at a brisk pace.

My role model!

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