According 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

 

Saw 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.

Some 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.