When you're a kid there's a sense of wonder.
Why's the sky blue? What makes thunder?
In adolescence you're all too vexed
By the one track mind that is sex, sex, sex.
In college you form your ideas and voices.
At twenty you ponder an array of life choices.
Then you're living the good life out in society.
Away with the boredom! You crave the variety.
More serious now, a family you launch.
You might even start to develop a paunch.
You know you're no longer an adult who's a fledgling
When you find yourself watching the PBS pledging.
As I get older the wonder's still there,
But now focus shifts to the topic of hair.
That on my head gets thinner and whiter
While the bit 'bove my lip is thicker and brighter.
Though the fuzz on my legs you see less and less,
It's the stuff 'neath my nose that causes the stress.
I bleach and I pluck as much as I'm able,
Still there are days I could pass for Clark Gable.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Breaking the Sound Barrier
Look out Chuck Yeager and the rest of you guys brandishing the right stuff. I too broke the sound barrier and I didn't even have a plane. While you were lauded and ticker taped for your achievement, I'd just as soon not anyone know about mine.
I grunted when I stood up this morning. Grunted like the Williams sisters at Wimbledon.
I have been getting up from chairs, benches, sofas and even the floor for years. I've mastered the process. No sound effects were required to get the body into a vertical position. So now that I'm all of 61 my joints come with a sound track?
Grunting shoves you over that audio threshold into seniordom. It's one of those benchmarks on my personal "you know you're getting old when..." list.
Perhaps it was just a one-off, as the Brits say. Here's hoping it won't happen again for another 20 years when my dotage kicks in.
For now I've pressed the mute button.
I grunted when I stood up this morning. Grunted like the Williams sisters at Wimbledon.
I have been getting up from chairs, benches, sofas and even the floor for years. I've mastered the process. No sound effects were required to get the body into a vertical position. So now that I'm all of 61 my joints come with a sound track?
Grunting shoves you over that audio threshold into seniordom. It's one of those benchmarks on my personal "you know you're getting old when..." list.
Perhaps it was just a one-off, as the Brits say. Here's hoping it won't happen again for another 20 years when my dotage kicks in.
For now I've pressed the mute button.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Gravity and "The Girls"
Recently I was asked to join a committee. I'm a member of an organization that promotes lifelong learning -- a purpose I can enthusiastically endorse. But as much as I support the program I had to turn down the offer -- not due to lack of time or interest but because of the committee name.
Honestly -- would you join the Strategic Advisory Group or SAG? SAG!? No organization that caters to people over 50 should use such a loaded acronym. It borders on the unkind.
I am the poster child for sag. Gravity and I are no longer on speaking terms -- not after what it's done to my chest. The "girls" were never really perky but at least they stood at attention. Today they give new meaning to "at ease". My bra is working overtime. There's enough underwire to set off airport security. You could irrigate a cotton field through the shoulder strap gullies.
In college I laughed at a cartoon that showed an elderly gentleman trying to feel up his wife. The caption read something like "they're not up there any more, Harry." Then I thought it was hilarious. Now I see it as prophetic.
SAG? No thanks. I've got that covered. Perhaps there's a spot on the marketing committee instead.
Honestly -- would you join the Strategic Advisory Group or SAG? SAG!? No organization that caters to people over 50 should use such a loaded acronym. It borders on the unkind.
I am the poster child for sag. Gravity and I are no longer on speaking terms -- not after what it's done to my chest. The "girls" were never really perky but at least they stood at attention. Today they give new meaning to "at ease". My bra is working overtime. There's enough underwire to set off airport security. You could irrigate a cotton field through the shoulder strap gullies.
In college I laughed at a cartoon that showed an elderly gentleman trying to feel up his wife. The caption read something like "they're not up there any more, Harry." Then I thought it was hilarious. Now I see it as prophetic.
SAG? No thanks. I've got that covered. Perhaps there's a spot on the marketing committee instead.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
It's Nap Time, America
Remember kindergarten? Remember how, after an intense session of finger painting the teacher fed you graham crackers and milk? Then you'd spread your little blanket and take a nap. Probably the only time in life when napping is condoned and we were too young to appreciate it.
But that might be changing. In his 12 Point Plan for Healthy Aging, Dr. Andrew Weill recommends sufficient rest and ---- napping. And the crowd roars -- but not too loudly because it's nap time, America.
Just a few minutes midday to recharge. A dozing diversion. Horizontal hiatus. Call it what you like. We need to re-set our circadian clocks. America needs a nap.
Other countries embrace the siesta, so why are we a napless society? My guess is the Puritan work ethic that's chiseled into our cultural DNA. Remember the Puritans -- those serious guys with big buckles? Definitely anti-nap.
You probably think you'd feel g-u-i-l-t-y if you took a nap when you should be doing something productive. But that's the point. This is approved napping. Everyone is doing it.
Imagine enjoying a brief span of quiet time to catch those much needed 40 winks. (What does that mean anyway? Are 24 or 65 just as beneficial? And who does the counting?)
I suppose, like with anything else, national napping could get out of hand. There will be some abusers -- those who extend their 10-20 minutes into hours of semi-consciousness. Nappers Anonymous chapters will form to handle them.
Did you know that the first Monday after daylight saving time is National Workplace Napping Day? There's also National Sleep Awareness Week. That's a start, but to really catch on approved napping needs grassroots support, a movement or an organization. How about we form the National Association of Post-Lunch Snoozers (NAPS)? We'll need a logo, t-shirts, bumper stickers and, of course, blankets.
But that might be changing. In his 12 Point Plan for Healthy Aging, Dr. Andrew Weill recommends sufficient rest and ---- napping. And the crowd roars -- but not too loudly because it's nap time, America.
Just a few minutes midday to recharge. A dozing diversion. Horizontal hiatus. Call it what you like. We need to re-set our circadian clocks. America needs a nap.
Other countries embrace the siesta, so why are we a napless society? My guess is the Puritan work ethic that's chiseled into our cultural DNA. Remember the Puritans -- those serious guys with big buckles? Definitely anti-nap.
You probably think you'd feel g-u-i-l-t-y if you took a nap when you should be doing something productive. But that's the point. This is approved napping. Everyone is doing it.
Imagine enjoying a brief span of quiet time to catch those much needed 40 winks. (What does that mean anyway? Are 24 or 65 just as beneficial? And who does the counting?)
I suppose, like with anything else, national napping could get out of hand. There will be some abusers -- those who extend their 10-20 minutes into hours of semi-consciousness. Nappers Anonymous chapters will form to handle them.
Did you know that the first Monday after daylight saving time is National Workplace Napping Day? There's also National Sleep Awareness Week. That's a start, but to really catch on approved napping needs grassroots support, a movement or an organization. How about we form the National Association of Post-Lunch Snoozers (NAPS)? We'll need a logo, t-shirts, bumper stickers and, of course, blankets.
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