Archives for December 2025

There’s a line in the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup when Groucho (appearing as a dictator of Fredonia named Rufus T. Firefly) says:

Why a four-year-old child could understand this report. Run out and find me a four-year-old child. I can’t make head nor tail out of it.

That can sum up how many of us feel about the current state of technology. I say this as someone who has just come off spending way too much time trying to install a new printer for my computer (many, many tries finally yielded result but there was a lot swearing along the way).

It’s often noted that technology is changing too fast. Just when you adjust and adapt to a new interface or peripheral, they change it. Along comes verification codes followed by two-factor authentication. We adapt as fast as we can, but as many boomers have pointed out, it shouldn’t be this hard to complete what used to be simple tasks. We are rapidly losing proprietary control over our affairs because we are getting technologically inept.

I share the same frustration as Rufus, only now what I would really like to have is a twelve-year old tech guru to help me navigate the daily barrage of technical hurdles. Of course, I want her/him to be bonded in order to protect the nest egg. If that sounds like an extreme step, you have not peeked around the bend to see the next level of encrypted paperless online transactions that will be coming to a computer near you.

The irony here is that most of us naively thought that technology would help us simplify our lives and make them less complex. The true effect has been just the opposite. From banking to borrowing a book, the technology gatekeepers demand more of us every day. If you have not experienced a technical melt-down trying to complete what was once a simple task, you are the rare exception indeed.

Change is inevitable. I accept that. Just wish that it would not come at us at terminal velocity. No such luck. Tech acceleration is here to stay. And don’t even think of trying lure away my 12-year old guru.

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. 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.

This is my little grandson’s favorite game. The song goes Ring around the rosy, Pocket full of posey, Ashes, ashes, All fall down. But he prefers to start with the word ashes. Then he can get to the all fall down quickly and require those holding his hands – me and whoever else he might round up – to jump down to the floor and laugh. Getting up is no laughing matter for us old folks, but he just pops up and is ready to start again. The first thing he says when we’re finally all up and holding hands again is “ready?”

And off we go.

But to me, ashes ashes feels like my life at the moment. And all fall down is what everyone around me is doing. Gary is on death’s door. His mother is halfway through the door. Francis is better than he wants to admit and just wants someone to fuss over him. Dagmar had a stroke and can’t see. Jim died and Cynthia is not too sure what happened to him. Francis can’t remember who Jim and Cynthia are. Marge fell and wasn’t found for two days and is now in a Beehive home. Bob needs a heart procedure of some sort. Diane died of MS and Jane of a brain tumor, both in the same week. It seems like you either die or you watch everyone fall down around you. I don’t think I like the choice.

But – ha ha – it doesn’t matter if I like it or not. I wasn’t consulted. And why should I be? We are among the luckiest, the richest, the healthiest people who have ever lived on this planet. We have nothing to complain about. If you made it to seventy or so in reasonably good health you did great. You’re ahead of the game; all the rest is gravy.

My high school reunion committee decided to start having reunions every five years instead of every ten. It’s getting too hard to keep track of the dearly departed page. Well, that’s the spirit, I guess. We can sit around in ever smaller circles and tell each other how lucky we are and shed a few tears for the less lucky ones. And look around at the group and wonder whose luck will hold out and make it to the next reunion. But that’s good stuff at this point. I’ll mention another cliché to add to the ones I’ve already used: No one gets out of here alive.

So enjoy what you’ve got. Don’t bemoan what you’ve lost; just be glad you had it for a while. We’ve all had a lot more than most people could dream of having. And think about little Miles who laughs when he says “All fall down.” Cheers!

(from the Best of BoomSpeak, 2017)

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.

As a mid-boomer, born in 1956, I can recall times when my grandparents used the phrase “The Cat’s Pajamas” to describe one another, telling me about their swell courtship days in the 1920s. Having had pet cats from a young age, I didn’t think any feline would tolerate wearing bedclothes. Maybe that was the style back then, but I suppressed the urge to wrestle our feisty male Maine Coon, Butch, into a pair of my PJs.

My parents were college sweethearts in the early 1950s, and my dad enjoyed telling us about “The Dish” he had his eyes on (meaning our mom). She told us the story about the “Tall, Dark, and Handsome Dreamboat” (our dad), whom she fell in love with. They were both in the Greek system of fraternities and sororities, wearing white sport coats, pink carnations, and that whole fairy tale business. A little bit before cherry, boss, and bitchin’, but according to them, it was a swell time.

A few months ago, I was on a second date with a woman close to my age (I’m a widower), and toward the end of the date I told her I thought she was swell. Mind, this was 2025. I don’t know why I used that word, but she told me she thought I was swell, too. There was a third date, but like over-chewed Swell Bubble Gum, the flavor had become stale in our short time together, and we parted ways amicably.

In my teen years, things (and people) were groovy and far out. Girls were chicks and guys were dudes. By my late teens, I had a summer job at a hotel downtown that hosted banquets, parties, and sundry events. One night while I was working, I noticed the restrooms outside one of the party rooms had the MEN and WOMEN signs covered with DUDES and DUDETTES. I wonder if the ladies in attendance thought that was demeaning. Probably not in 1975. I don’t think I ever used the word groovy in conversation, though I thought Marcia Brady was a groovy chick.

When my daughters were teens in the mid-to-late 90s, being “Da Bomb” or “All That, and a Bag of Chips” was hip to say. I wonder who coined that last phrase – a Frito-Lay ad person? All I know is that when I indulge in salty snacks now, my ankles swell. And that’s not Swell.

William P. Adams lives in the pacific northwest, writing short pieces inspired by his childhood in the 1960s. His stories have appeared in Macrame Lit and Rockvale Review.

Feel like you’re a baby boomer with a target on your back? It’s real. The blame game is alive and well and boomers are once again (or should I say still) a target for the critics. The knives have come out along with the OpEds that declare we’ve effed the whole thing up…again.

The current argument is that boomers hold all the wealth in the U.S. and we won’t give it up yet. Forget for a moment the accusation that we won’t part with our spondulicks, and let’s explore the accusation that we’re rich.

If you’re a baby boomer, the question is simple but uncomfortable: are you “rich,” or are you just average? The answer depends on how you stack up against your peers—and the numbers show there’s a massive gap between the middle class and the elite.

In the aptly named Wealth Ladder, what rung are we on? According to an analysis of Federal Reserve data, the top 10% of boomers has a net worth just under $3 million. Experts say that’s the line between comfortable and rich. Meanwhile, the median net worth for boomers is far lower. Think somewhere between $364k and $410k. Or what you could call not rich. Also known as middle class.

Are we holding on to homes as our primary asset. Guilty. But can average baby boomers really be called rich? Don’t think so. You need at least $3 million to be in that class, and retiring with assets like that is far different than retiring when you’re worth $350k.

Don’t forget there’s a fairly large number of boomers who for a variety of reasons/setbacks have not managed to save more than $30,000 towards retirement, and are falsely hoping that social security will rescue if not sustain them.

To summarize, younger generations shouldn’t picture the vast majority of baby boomers pulling up the ladder to shortchange younger gens. We’ve got our own retirement issues to deal with and will eventually be passing along whatever assets remain.

When it comes to the battle of the gens, I wish everyone would appreciate my favorite fortune cookie saying: It’s nice to be important, but it’s important to be nice.

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. 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.

Granddads are like old easy chairs. There are times when they seem very attractive, inviting and soft to cuddle in. But not forever. Sometimes, grandkids outgrow them and no longer seek to cuddle. I suppose that’s easy to admit. It’s just a bit of a transition. Cuddling on the couch with them and reading or telling stories gets old. Gifts for birthdays can becomes predictable and outdated. The nexus between childhood one and childhood redux can be short-lived. That’s not to say there is no respect at base. But there is a shift from “Hey grampa let’s play…or build, or paint” to “Uh-huh…been there, done that.”

Us grands have to be prepared for the shift. I guess kids change friends as they age… but they can’t change grandparents. Or, said another way, they are changing, while grandparents stay the same, stuck in their repeated wisdom and ideas.

There is often a kind of residual respect, especially if parentally enforced. But essentialy grandkids are going through “a stage,” their required growth spurt in personal development and self-realization. Grands have to reassure themselves that hopefully a residual amount of respect and appreciation is maturing for a later harvest. And if not, we have to remind ourselves that it’s really up to our off-spring to provide the introductory course and follow-up in their presentation of Parenting 102. We can only hope.

We have done our bit, one generation removed, and need patience and trust in the process of growing and aging. We have to believe, if we have done a good job, that the circle is going to close. That our children can anticipate and tolerate their progeny’s growth and development…as we did.

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. Read more at https://freefloatingstories.wordpress.com/