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 Explanations for that, I suppose, range from lack of a good camera to outdated photographs to unflattering selfies.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.

The next day was tomorrow.

That phrase came up recently in a conversation with some baby boomers, and all parties who witnessed/heard it are still trying to figure out what was meant by it.

Which brings us to a discussion regarding the impact of baby boomers. Sure, it’s a leap, but bear with me. Now that we are chugging along into old age at a pretty good clip, it’s a great time to decide if we really were lucky to grow up as baby boomers.

Loads of cultural touchstones surely made it worth it. The TV shows, Saturday morning cartoons and westerns, playing outdoors all day, the fantastic music, hippies, and it was all capped off with Woodstock.

On the flip side however, the duck and cover exercises in school, the JFK, MLK, RFK assassinations, and the war in Vietnam were a reality check on our optimism that everything was going to turn out all right.

It’s been said that we are now in Act III and an easy target for millennials and Gen Xers who, right or wrong, think boomers have screwed up everything. For them, the sooner we get off the stage the better. But let’s not forget some of our contributions for the greater good. We did start a peace movement to end a war, created some phenomenal music that’s still revered by all generations, invented the computer, created the internet, and started the green movement to help clean up our planet. Plus, it’s a little known fact, but baby boomers donated more money to worthy causes than any generation before, and maybe since.

The faults are real but some of the good things are just a matter of opportune timing. We came of age at a time of prosperity and few economic downturns. The market went up and so did real estate values. Did boomers reap the benefits? Yep, and many of us (but not all) are still reaping the benefits. It may be hard for some to accept, but some animosity toward boomers is ordinary and unacceptable ageism, a topic for another day.

I’m aligned with those who think that boomers still have an important contribution to make, and that our social activism may have ebbed somewhat, but we can still be a force for good. Time will tell, because the next day is tomorrow.

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.

Have any of you tried online dating? It can be a fun game, a familiar game, from our procreative years when hormones drove the search and the long-range goal was marriage and family. However, this time around, for us seniors, the goals and objectives are different. Some moves carry-over from the traditional ‘mating dance’ like who calls whom, who pays for the meal, who opens the restaurant door. Sweet. On the other hand, when we get to a certain age, a couple can both agree that we’ve ‘been there, done all that’ and can decide that we’re old enough to skip the coy virgin and the hat-twisting teenager asking a girl to the prom routine. It can get pretty simple: ‘Your place/my place?’ ‘Your grandkid’s birthday/my grandkid’s graduation?’ As always, I think a good anecdote can get to the core of current senior ‘rules of engagement’.

A farmer comes out of a general store loaded down with a bucket, a can of paint, a goose and two chickens, goes to the mechanic next door and is disappointed to hear that his truck repair has to wait on a part. While he is trying to decide how to carry all his stuff on foot, a sweet older woman with a suitcase asks if he can help find where her sister, Sarah Blanchard, lives.

“Oh, yeah, she’s my neighbor. I can walk you there but first I got to figure how to carry all this stuff.”
The lady goes, “Why don’t you put the can of paint in the bucket. Carry the bucket in one hand. Carry the goose in your other hand and put a chicken under each arm?”

“Huh! That would do it…let’s go.”

On the way he says, “Let’s take a short cut through the woods. We’ll be there in no time.”

The lady stops, looks him over cautiously, places a hand on her chest, and says, “I am a defenseless widow. How do I know that when we get in the woods you won’t take advantage of me?”

The farmer goes, “Holy smokes lady! I ‘m carrying a bucket, a gallon of paint, two chickens, and a goose. How in the world could I possibly…?”

The sweet lady jumps in with, “Set the goose down, cover her with the bucket, put the paint on top of the bucket, and I’ll hold the chickens.”

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.