Here’s the latest from the Not-So-Good-News Department: baby boomers are in for a death boom. Not surprising, but still. There was quite the boom when we came into this world so it stands to reason there’s going to be quite a boom in our demisals (did I just make up that word?).

We’ve gotten used to demographers and media people talking about 10,000 new retirees per day as boomers hit their late 60s and 70s. How are we going to feel when they start counting or estimating how many baby boomers can expect to die in a year, a month or a day?

Boomers are living longer thanks to better health habits and exercise (along with gritty determination) but all the same, we can’t opt out when the call comes. On the bright side (if there is one), there will be lots of expanded opportunities for hospices, funeral planners and grief counselors.

I don’t know why this news about a death boom should surprise any of us boomers, as our numbers have been thinning for a while now. Not a week goes by without us hearing about a classmate, colleague or neighbor who has crossed the great divide. Just in passing (ha…death sarcasm) there is a surprisingly large catalog of euphemisms for dying. Passed, slipped away, gave up the ghost, kicked the bucket, called to a better place, called home, permanent vacation, cashed in your chips, pushing up daisies, met the grim reaper, joined the choir, packed it in, bought the farm or just plain departed. Perhaps the most annoying one is “lost,” as in she lost her husband. He’s not lost because we know where he is, but we’re just skittish about saying he’s dead.

Well now, this has been an uplifting discussion of the impending death boom, and for that I’m truly sorry. But the good news is that you are reading this, so you have not yet “succumbed.” Good on you.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

I’m a little embarrassed to say it, I’m a Dodgers fan. I grew up in NYC and loved my Yankees as a kid. I hated the Dodgers so much in those days that, as a 9 year old, I booed a blind retired Dodger as he took a bow with his white cane at an old timer’s game. Equal opportunity indeed. When I transplanted to Los Angeles in 1965, I was hooked by everything West Coast and that included the Dodgers, much to my own surprise.

But one of my favorite moments as a Dodger fan came during a heartbreaking loss to the Philadelphia Phillies. Back in the 1990’s, the Dodgers were beating up the Phillies by a score of 8-0 in the second inning. Vin Scully was announcing the game and shining his special light on it. At this point, I need to admit that some of the details of the game I’m about to describe may not be entirely accurate because, at the time, I didn’t recognize their importance. Essentially, it goes like this: Jim Fregosi was managing the Phillies that day and, despite the lop-sided score, he remained steady and applied his strategies with care and focus. It was, after all, only the second inning. His boys began chipping away at the Dodger’s lead and, by the fourth inning, it was 8-3. That’s still a pretty big mountain to climb in major league baseball but Fregosi remained so meticulous as he strategized that Scully said, “Fregosi’s managing this as though he’s got a chance to win it.” The Phillies kept coming on, scoring a run here and a run there and by the eighth inning it was 8-7. Sure enough, they tied us in the ninth and won it in the eleventh.

Now Vin Scully wasn’t perfect. In fact, he made the same grammatical error night after night when he’d confuse “less” with “fewer” but his greatness was displayed by the indescribable warmth of his voice, his humility, his grace of character, his sense of perspective, his love for and knowledge of the game. Scully could point out the undeniable parallels when life imitates the action of the field. And the guy could read lips.

We all know what it’s like to start a day badly and how tempting it is to say, “well this day is already in the dumpster.” And on days when we feel like that, we can remember Scully’s words when Fregosi’s Phillies were down 8-3 in the third inning: “he’s managing like he’s got a chance to win this.” And that’s just one more reason Vin Scully is in the Hall of Fame.

Rick Smith is a musician and harp player (that’s a harmonica folks) from Helendale, California.

When Donald Trump said he was serious about getting his face carved into Mt. Rushmore, I figured we’d better see that famous monument while it was still how we imagined it. So my wife and I hit the road from Madison, Wisconsin, for the 800-mile drive to Keystone, South Dakota, to the gleaming granite faces of four past presidents—George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln.

We split the distance in half, spending Friday night in Sioux Falls and continuing on in the morning. The forecast was perfect— glorious sunshine, and temperatures to reach into the 50s.

Neglecting to consider the Mountain Time Zone, we reached Rapid City an hour earlier than expected. It was two p.m., and Mt. Rushmore, just 30 minutes away, closed at five. The temperature was now 55, the sky postcard blue, so we dropped our bags at our motel and headed south on Route 16—Mt. Rushmore Road—twisting upward through the pine forests and granite cliffs of the Black Hills. Keystone (pop. 370), the official home of Mt. Rushmore, was disappointing, a kitschy cowboy town, but we soon left it behind.

Next came our first tantalizing glimpse of Washington’s head above the pines. Then we pulled into the grounds. The parking facility, with a smattering of cars from dozens of states and Canada, had been cleared of overnight snow. That snow, in turn, had closed the Presidential Trail that leads from the Grand View Terrace to the granite escarpment beneath the carved faces. But it didn’t matter—the presidents were in full view along the Avenue of Flags between the parking area and the monument, and with the proud emblems of each state snapping in the breeze, we walked the avenue among a mélange of accents and languages.

The overnight snow had also closed the Greek-style amphitheater beneath the terrace, but again, it didn’t matter—Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln now loomed above us in startling 3-D.

While my wife wandered off to take photographs, I lifted my binoculars and made an amusing discovery. A small pine had rooted itself in the granite detritus below the chin of Roosevelt. According to Rushmore’s information director, there’s no more space for additional carving on the monument, so Donald Trump’s face will never appear there. But I think that, one day, that rogue pine will tickle Teddy’s nose.

Claude Clayton Smith is the author of eight books, plus a variety of short fiction, poetry, essays, and plays, and blogger from Madison, Wisconsin.

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Wake up baby boomers! You have become workplace yodas. That’s right – you are Jedi Grand Masters.

There’s a skills shortage of major proportion in every organization just as thousands of baby boomers ride off into the sunset (or into a cloudbank), taking their Jedi wisdom with them. A recent study from the University of California identified two distinct forms of intelligence: fluid intelligence, which is our ability to think logically and process information; and crystallized intelligence, which is gained through accumulated knowledge and experience.  Increases in crystallized intelligence was considered to be twice as valuable as increases in fluid intelligence. Guess who has loads of crystallized intelligence?

“Many of the truths that we cling to depend on our point of view.” – Yoda

Some organizations are setting up alumni networks in order to retain the knowledge and experience of longtime employees. One such network is YourEncore, which was set up by Procter & Gamble and Eli Lilly to enable them to tap into the wisdom of older employees who still wanted to offer their experience without working full-time hours.

Baby boomers are being recruited more directly in some companies to act as teachers and mentors to the younger talent. Rather than being called interns, someone coined the term “mentern.” Travel industry veteran Chip Conley has described his experience at Airbnb in his latest book Wisdom at Work: How to Reinvent the Second Half of Your Career.

He identifies the following types of wisdom that corporate elders can contribute:

• Good judgment – the experience of older employees can give perspective and help smooth out the inevitable bumps in the road
• Unvarnished insight – a boomer’s experience can help cut through the clutter and there is less need to impress or prove themselves
• Emotional intelligence – knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens, so the elders are capable of great self-awareness and empathy
• Holistic thinking – the brain may lose some speed and memory as it ages, but is more able to see holistically, a valuable faculty where pattern recognition is key.
• Stewardship – elders have experience as good corporate citizens, and that often translates into a desire to give rather than take.

“Remember, a Jedi’s strength flows from the Force. But beware. Anger, fear, aggression. The dark side are they. Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.” Yoda

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

How long did it take you to decompress from work and adjust to being retired? Right from the get-go, I was happy to be done with my job and thought that meant I had adjusted, but I was wrong.

Work? Not work? Who am I without a job? Who was I with a job? What’s my purpose? Is there a second act? Do we have to reinvent ourselves? Aren’t we pretty OK already?

Life’s eternal questions. I kind of stopped thinking about them and focused on what made me feel good and what made me happy. Amazingly, my creative juices are flowing. I’ve been feeling artistic!

While writing is an art, I’ve never been otherwise inclined to pursue artistic activities. My crafty quilting sister got those genes. If I needed help with a Halloween costume or gift packaging, she would take my emergency phone calls from Michaels, where I panic. Seriously, what is all this stuff?

And in minutes, she’d talk me off the ledge. She’s the Michaels Whisperer, “OK, stand with your back facing the door. Go three aisles down and turn right. Look up. No, not that way. 3 o’clock. Bend your knees slightly and reach out in front of you. Pick up the tube on the left. Glitter glue.”

So, where to start? I took this quiz, and it said I am destined to be a print maker. I got a book from the library, and making prints looks hard. Actually, everything looks hard.

I’m calling in all my lifelines for help deciding how I will scratch this itch. I have virtually no experience making art, unless you count a ceramic ashtray I made in grade school and cookies decorated with royal icing. My friend, Carole, who is an artist, recommended decoupage. I went to the library and got a book on decoupage. Looks doable.

My sister warned me I need to be patient. Immediate results are not to be expected. Like I need to be warned about patience! I don’t have time for such nonsense! We’ll be talking this weekend, when she will share other important sisterly advice.

I’ve been thinking about what might come naturally pursuant to my interests. I like things with function. Surfaces like wood, glass, ceramic and tin. I like kitchen stuff. I’ve been doodling spirals since I was a kid. I see more spirals in my future.

It’s exciting to think about getting started in art, but it’s even more exciting to think my brain is finally in this place. This is year two of retirement, but my first full year. I’m decompressing from my work life and embracing my creative urges. Urges I didn’t even know I had.

As for other creative urges, Dale and I are embarking on a journey this weekend to make tamales from scratch. You know there will be a story.

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

 

Dale and I love tamales and usually buy them fresh at the farmer’s market. However, we’ve been talking about making them ourselves and finally decided to just do this thing.

He surprised me by sharing that he spotted all critical tools and ingredients at the local market I’ve been to once. When did he go? Is this what he does while I’m playing golf? Cruising the markets looking for who knows what?

For the filling, Dale braised a pork butt in the oven with not much more than an onion. After it cooled, he shredded it and added his homemade chile sauce. That’s all there was to filling. But then I didn’t make it, and I know chile sauce is messy work involving the rehydration of dried pepper pods. I find it in our freezer already made!

We set up the work station. Dough, soaked husks, filling. We began to prep and realized neither one of us knew how to roll these things. The masa was too thick, so we added a bit of juice from the pork butt to thin it out.

As for rolling, we were in hysterics trying to figure it out. The first one Dale made looked like a monster burrito, and I weighed it just to see. The mother of all tamales weighed in at nine ounces. I wanted to name it El Jefe, but Dale insisted on El Capitan. I mean, wrap it in a pizza and it could be on the menu at Taco Bell.

They were looking like tamales, and we were argument-free, when we began to discuss steam time.

Dale’s sources, real or imagined, said 45 minutes. Diana (real) said two to three hours. That’s quite a discrepancy. We pulled out other cookbooks, and yes, it varied from 45 minutes to three hours.  How do you know?

We decided it probably depends on how many are in there and the thickness of the masa. The problem was I did not want to be starving at 8 p.m. waiting another hour because the masa wasn’t cooked.

The tamales took about two hours. They were probably too thick, and the rolling technique was inconsistent and weird. However, they were absolutely delicious! We had them two nights in a row and then froze the rest in their husks. A decadent treat we learned in Texas is tamales smothered in chili.

All in all, it was way fun. We laughed a lot because we were so outside our comfort zones. As retirement partners, I highly recommend taking on a joint project of some sort. Something where you have basic skills, but you are stretching them to new limits, so you learn together.

The whole experience reminded me of a team-building exercise from work, except you can use the f-bomb, and we got to kiss at the end.

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