writing

Best Friend or Romance…Let’s Not Call The Whole Thing Off

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I am an older gentleman who has lost or misplaced many friends. Three best friends died before their times by accidents or disease, and one got swept away by the strong currents of a cult*. Others were lost to career moves, love, loss of love, family matters, and irreconcilable differences. Life had blessed me-at this stage of my life–with lots of “peripheral” friends but no Best Friend** (BF). Don’t view that as sad, and—in case you were wondering—I had nothing to do with the deaths. Stop watching Crime Shows.

It was age 50 when the rule only a male could be another male’s best friend went in the garbage bin with the Members Only jackets and loose-fitting jeans***. Females of our species as potential, non-sexual, long-time partners, possibly a best friend during the male’s mate-hunting prime? Um, no. Not in my life, anyway. If you don’t understand ponder the existence of blow-up dolls. Anatomically correct blow-up dolls. With names.

But at age 50 there was a life-partner change brought on by the miracle of the Right Person (RP) finally entering a location close enough to appear on my radar. With the excellent hindsight of 74 years, she originally entered as a love interest. She was smart, secure, independent and could care less about my problems, she had her own. As age helped the romantic fire flame out, there was enough in the embers to make staying together worthwhile and we were BFs (and occasionally more) for over 20 years, longer than anyone else. Male or female. BF or not.

And then she left.  

But now, the BF “hope” at this age is not limited to one half of the population, the potential pool is twice what it was at age 30.  Those who don’t urinate into a stainless steel trough at sporting events can now be considered for the exalted position BF.**** A true benefit of old age, and it comes at just the right time.

A new BF for this time in my life has been found. When you read about my UPer (Unidentified PERson), that is her. She needs to remain nameless. There may be some lingering criminal issues in other states she doesn’t deserve to get mixed-up in. Wonder if she has the same issue? The best thing about a BF is we can keep secrets…from each other. It’s a wonderful thing to have in your life. UPer: Thank you for the time investment, vulnerability, and the possibility of a “ride-or-die” loyalty. Long may we last.

            This post is written for all the males and females, senior males and females, lonely and looking for love. And romance. Look for something else. Look for friendship. Those other things may follow. And this applies to everyone. God really doesn’t care who you love as long as you love someone. Take a closer look at all your current relationships, peripheral acquaintances, and contacts. You might be missing something.

*It happened in 1978. He was a childhood friend and best man at my first wedding. His 24-inch by 24-inch self-portrait of how happy he was with Jesus was done in crayon and folded to letter size for mailing. Every year since the internet I’ve googled the return address. It still does not exist, even on google maps. Why not? And yes, I consider it might have been me he was getting away from, but he was running towards something, not away, so there’s hope for him. After nearly 50 years.

**It is assumed everyone knows the difference between friend and “best” friend? Per AI: “a best friend is usually defined by three main factors: vulnerability, time investment, and a ride-or-die loyalty”. But what does Ai know? It also says “friend” and “best friend” are often “interchangeable”. Nerd.

***Sleepwear, now, every chance I get. No, not pajamas…SLEEPWEAR. Public pajamas.

****There is no additional “F” for forever. Ever.

The MTV Crisis

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Your’s truly has been struggling for years to explain the meaning and ramifications of both misinformation and disinformation (MisandDis). It didn’t help that the examples and cases cited revolved around world events and politics. We all know trying to talk about those subjects ends in a stubborn, sad stalemate with each side the victor and each side the loser.

But life dropped the perfect subject for explaining not only how MisandDis happens, but how fast they happen and how hard it is slow or correct. Is the subject The Venezuela Invasion? The Congo strife? Greenland? Eurovision 2026 Dropouts? Sidebar: Thanks to an Austrian win in 2025 the 2026 competition will be held in a weiner. Google it.

All good guesses for most of us, and Eurovision was close, but a subject easier for most of the world to finally focus their concern? MTV. On December 22, 2025, MTV—wait, you all know what MTV is, right? I forgot my audience. If you don’t know, look it up and even if you’re old, where the hell have you been these last 44 years? Save me space and google it.

MTV put out a press release with the Headline “MTV Going Off The Air” The release stated all the facts in the article explaining that headline but forgot modern readers are not reading articles but headlines and clickbait. You, the reader, for example, did your news “aggregator” or collector, or speed service source app inform you MTV was going “off the Air”?

And do you think MTV is no longer being broadcast or streamed? You should think that, because millions of podcasters, new apps, and news sources picked up the headline and ruined most of the world’s day with news of the beloved (??) MTV falling by the wayside. The internet erupted with “Save MTV” lunacy, as if not having MTV was like, like NOT having MTV and The Jersey Shore People and Real Life people, and…can’t help you with it anymore because MTV was sent off my personal airwaves when they stopped showing music videos with naked women. But others are really, really, really were going to miss MTV so much…so, so, much.

MTV is not going off the air. I checked YouTubeTV and RuPaul is strutting his stuff on MTV right next to me as I type. (No, it’s not distracting, it’s research.) So what happened? No body did any research. The new normal for information and news delivery, per the request of everyone but me, it seems, is to listen to podcasts and stories shared on sites like X, (Official name: “Xformerly known as twitter”), Instagram, and all the other crappy nu-researched, unedited, and unregulated places lazy people get news, now. Why the feck did I get a degree in journalism? The original press release from MTV talked about ancillary MTV services like Music, and other related MTV sites I could care less about, but THE MTV was still going to “make content”. The innocent but incomplete headline of the press release was seized, copied, pasted, and talked about all over the world in hours. And the angst began. I’m wondering if the second part of MYV’s marketing plan*, the explanation for why the entire world mistakenly thinks MTV is gone, will go around the world as fast as the first stage.

            Facebook. LinkedIn. MySpace. All of the social web sites young and old people enjoy visiting are NOT news organizations. They are mouthpieces** and post “news” for “click bait”, or “rage bait”, not information and education. I appeal to all readers to move back to legacy media of ANY bias to get news and facts about events of the world. Legacy media may—will–slant the news but they won’t make it up and won’t disseminate MisandDis. They get sued for that shite. Podcasters get a bonus. Do you know where your news sources are tonight?

“Google it” is not an information source, it is a research tool. If you google “shite”, for example, you will get thousands of responses. How to know which is right? First, isn’t not knowing anything about “shite” why you googled it to begin with? Hm. Now you might have to start thinking. Sucks, huh.

            *Genius, utter genius. They’ve got an old fart like me talking about them. And you reading. When was the last time you paid ANY attention to MTV?

            **Emphasis on “mouth”.

Pop Culture? Hm.

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What is “pop culture”? The term appears in news stories and televised shows about what is happening in the world. So…what is happening?

Pop Culture appears to be a subset of Consumerism, the bane of all moral life but the driving force of American Industry. If you need a definition of Consumerism, google or Ai it. My definition is biased and uninformative, seeing as how it paints the phenomenon in a slightly demented ochre.*  For instance, take a moment right now and look around you, in your closets, pantries, and garages. How much of what you see is really needed by you? Or anybody?

Old anti-everything radicals from the 1960s were against consumerism as a type of collateral side hustle, but it fit our narrative as a supporting argument: America didn’t care about the young men sent off to die In Viet Nam, a country that is now one of our biggest trading  partners, supplying Pop Culture and American Consumers with all the useless goods they need. It is a sad thought to think the posterity of the Viet Cong are now knitting garments for anyone who needs cheap underwear.

And there it is, one of the problems with Consumerism: as it advertises(sic) us into a buy buy buy mindset, the powers making all the money never tell us we aren’t buying American Made Products. They don’t hide it from us either…now. So where is the so-called defense of consumerism as a driver of the economy if non-Americans are depositing their American dollars in their own nations’ bank? Do we ship them Pop Culture as a fair trade? Is there a tariff, involved?

That thought just illuminated the purpose, goal, and joie de vivre of pop culture. In the old days, advertisers, hereafter called Admen**, sat around thinking of what useless product to manufacture that people would buy in huge enough quantities to make a huge enough profit. Some of their ideas? Hula Hoops. Frisbees. Pet Rocks. Cabbage Patch Kids.****

But in the new marketing days of Pop Culture, manufacturers can watch the internet, see what “pops” and then go make it to satisfy got-to-have-it consumers. The first product coming to mind is diamonds. They used to be A Girls Best Friend when the Admen were pushing them, Now, EVERY kiss begins with a diamond company whose name begins with K, and somewhere there is a young, impressionable something or other needing to get the kiss, so he/she/they buy one. Consumerism is the model for DEI.  Why limit your markets/suckers? Sell to everyone.  A more obvious product is the people involved in Pop Culture who build a “Brand” or following and then look for products and manufacturers to take advantage of how well “liked” the Brand has become. It appears females are very good at Brand Building. That cuts the number of Admen needed in our modern economic miracle of a country.  It’s poetic karma that old Admen aren’t needed anymore.

There isn’t really enough time to rant about Pop Culture and Consumerism in a short post. A proper rant needs a whole book. But…imagine if we all bought only what we needed? There is lots of collateral damage in an out-of-control consumer economy: homelessness for example, while rich people build houses large enough to house a battalion of Viet Cong.

Consumers’ benefit when we can easily get the things we need, like toilet paper. That’s good for all of us, especially if you find one of the many brands, styles, thicknesses, and patterns that works without tearing you a new one.*** Maybe we can tone down the influence that causes us to need a certain handbag, or sneaker, no matter what it costs. (See past post about Dynamic Model Pricing.)

Eh. Money has the Power, even Pop Culture bows to it, and it’s wrong to hope for a perfect economic system when we are so imperfect, ourselves. Do this next time you need to buy something, though, ask why you want it, first, and see what happens. Unless its toilet paper. Get that one fast.

Caveat: I, too, have stuff I don’t need. When I typed “imperfect”, It meant all of us.

And was it too subtle, talking about Pop Culture and toilet paper in the same post?

*Look that up for help understanding a sentence rife with “irony”.

**There were women in adverting in the Old Days. Guess what they did?

***What a terrible play on words.

****These products experience a life after their normal sales death: collectibles.

For The Childish, The Young At Heart, And Anyone Who Wants To Be

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I’ve written about Seasonal Affective Disorder(SAD) before and it’s time to mention it again. I call it SAD because that what it is, but when it tried to grab me recently, tools to combat its kidnapping attempt were readily at hand. One tool is childishness, also known as silliness, which is not to be confused with The Ministry of Silly Walks, though if SAD keeps happening, we might need to mount an appropriate Federal response.

SAD likes to come at night and park itself between the ears before you are awake enough, to recognize its infestation and open the toll box. So it was last night, but I was on to it early. My second-floor wall of windows lets me see the world from above and as the snow fell and covered everything, the first thought was how lucky I was to face the parking lot. Other times in the year the direction I faced was irrelevant. But when it snows, I am blessed to see the beauty of the snowfall, the silent throttling of all negativity, the carpeting of the dirty, dingey world with something pure (at night only!), white, and Godlike. (Apologies for calling it God’s dandruff, in an earlier afternoon post.) From high on the…from my window then the world goes quiet, beautiful, serene…you could hear a pin drop on the soft, snowy cushions*

Then the machines come. Big, ornery machines, throwing the snow aside as if angry for the snow’s hubris. The machine march begins with one large, Transformer-like, crab-walking, black exhaust spewing noisy mother-, sorry, big freaking thing. It makes mighty sweeps through the parking lot grid as if it were PacMan high on a Power Pellet. Then, the smaller worker bees, the fine-tuners come out and scurry around the grid, snipping, here, cutting here, and leaving piles of used, white fabric in the main grid for PacMan. As if divinely designed, Pacman takes all the snow off stage left to a pile I can imagine is snow heaven. Or snow purgatory? Probably just a big pile, but you get the drift.**

As if that wasn’t enough entertainment, these little black stick figures began to move about. Most were unrecognizable with coverings of enormous bulbous-ness and fluffiness, but there was a figure in shorts. His appearance was brief. Most walked with high strides, as if practicing for Monty Python. They all walked towards mounds of snow from which lights shown, as if someone had a remote starter for their cars and they had, oh, yes, exactly like that.

Tai Chi*** has a movement called “Stroking The Birds Tail”. Every one of the stick figuers must be a Tai Chi master cause they also used “Moving The Clouds Away”, and finally, “Lotus Flower”. No one did “White Crane Spreads Its Wings”, but my neighbors’ knowledge of ancient Chinese movements was not only impressive, but surprising.

What was I talking about, again? Oh, yeah, being SAD. The malady had not completely been expelled until this thought: I can’t wait to tell “unnamed person” (UPER) about this. She (hint) will love it.” In other words, a fun time was made better by knowing there was someone to share it with, someone who would actually listen. UPER is a “high S with some I” personality so I knew when she heard the story there’d be no roll of the eyes, no wonder about what might be wrong with this person, this me, babbling on about snow. I had faith.

Fun, friendship, and Faith…was that the point of today’s post?

Oh, right SAD. Let’s not waste anymore time on that stupid subject.

*Apologies for really mangling that metaphor. Pin? Snowy cushions?

**I am so proud of that pun. Wait, how many knew it was a pun?

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

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Yeah, it is. Was. And will be for at least two more days. Happy Feckin’ New Year.

There is no way to describe the feeling of an upstate New York Lake Effect Snow Bomb(NYLESB*). No way. But I have to try, it is the only thing to do to save sanity. I’ve videod NYLESB every mid-night because it is beautiful as the flakes dance and drift and fly over the parking lots and the cars, often sideways in the biting, cold wind. Then, I noticed every night has been the same for…a month, a year, forever? And how gray is gray, anyway? Each day is a pulsating, electric rainbow of gray, light gray, dark gray, medium gray. It’s making my hair gray, driving me to not care a f#$% about punctuation and spelling. Oh, nooooo.

A weather person on a local station did an outdoor report on the amount of snow falling during this latest assault. She was covered head to toe with fabric but her exposed cheeks were bright red. The male news anchor inside the studio said this when the outdoor reporter finished her report: “Thanks for that report, Hannah and remember, stuff like this builds character.” Mic drop.

I lived in upstate NY for my first 30 years and it was never like this. Or was it? Maybe this is just another way age effects and affects us? As a 30-year old, did character building influence my opinion and recording of past snow events? Was there ever a time when new snow meant get outside and play, or at least shovel the driveway? We used to burrow snow forts into the two-tiered snowbanks caused by the snowplows with the wings. Later in life there was a news story about kids getting killed when another passing snowplow buried them. So it goes, as a famous person said more than once.

Yeah, that makes sense: we can build character with any event if we are ignorant enough. Or naïve enough? Inexperienced? Stupid?

In looking at this through the distortion of a half-full glass, it is a great way to get an idea of how Arctic and Antarctic researchers must feel when they purposefully place themselves in either of this Earth’s frigid, frozen poles. Hey, more good news. Thanks to climate change they may not be frozen much longer…all that ice and snow is migrating to Upstate New York.

What’s the big deal? At least we’re alive, right?

As the whining continues, it should be pointed out I am nice and warm inside a swanky apartment building with heat, light, and a fitness center on the first floor. My front wall of windows allows me to turn The Chair to sit and watch the dropping of NYLESB’s snowflakus gigantis, levitating from The Chair only when I really, really want to, or when nature calls for a warmer activity in the throne room. There are some who may not be as lucky. It is a time to ponder the homeless, or the poor who cannot afford heat, or the cat who runs under cars in the parking lot. What happens to them? Can anything be done?

And there it is, dammit, character. Do I get credit for it or does Mother Nature? God? Is my character-building the result of free will, and would it have happened without the warm apartment?

No one gets credit until something gets done. Thinking of good character is not being a good character. When that snow stops, watch out, world, you’re gonna get fixed. (Yes, I was going to type something else.)

But right now, back to bed.

This piece is riddled with red and blue lines, warning the grammar and spelling police are awakening and preparing my arrest. Am I worried? If you don’t hear from me look under the big snowbank to the left of the building.

*This sounds a little “rainbowish”? Anyone offended?

The Holy Font Wars

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Font, font, font. Said three times really fast it sounds geeky, like a bad cheese. Aged Extra Sharp Font. To font or not to font. I do not know what font WordPress uses when this is published, but I have historically written in Times New Roman (TNR), a carryover from journalism days. In fact, I never really thought of font unless someone required a certain font. If they did, I selected it from the 1,837,312* font types available in Word and other processing apps.

But I always returned to the old “eye-shade and ink-stained sleeves” newspaper roots and wrote in TNR. TNR was invented 93 years ago by a typographer for the British “The Times” newspaper. He complained about the readability of the paper, which was using Times Roman font, now known as Times Old Roman. TNR was a huge success and became the global standard for books and legal documents. It was Microsoft Word’s default font until 2007, when Calibri replaced it. Being stubborn and superstitious, TNR was moved into my personal word processing default position, and no other font was used on purpose. (There was a time when testing word processors in the 70s and 80s when the installed font was never even known, or font selection was limited, which didn’t matter as long as it was readable.)

Fonts were never a big deal, though sometimes size mattered. I remember playing around with myriad and varied fonts sizes, years ago, when a certain page count was required and discovered certain fonts take up more space than others, making filling a page easier. But generally, fonts are so inconsequential I called TNR “New Times Roman” for most of this post until editing, when I noticed the New and Old Times Roman boo-boos.** It didn’t take long to fix, but it made me wonder if this inconsequential post should be continued.

Wait, it’s point is coming back to me.

The Biden administration, in its push to help the disabled and generally disadvantaged among us, mandated Calibri for all administration paperwork in 2023. The administration cited three reasons for the change:

  1. Calibri readability is better because it is “sans-serif”. It has no “feet” or decorative flourishes. Ai it.
  2. TNR was designed for paper newsprint, while Calibri was designed for digital computer screens.
  3. The cleaner lines of “sans serif” Calibri worked better with modern Optical Character Recognition software.

Those are some very good reasons for a simple, unobtrusive change, right?

Before writing this post, I typed two sentences, one on top of the other, one in TNR, and one in Calibri. The difference is astounding,*** especially to 73-year-old eyes using 1.75 magnification “reading glasses” just to see the desk. I am now a fan of fonts, and this post is Great British TNR free, and 100% pure Microsoft Calibri.

Can anyone understand why the Trump people recently decided to go back to TNR? They had these reasons:

  1. Restoring “Decorum and Professionalism.” TNR conveys a more “formal and professional” tone. Oh, and tradition. “Make American Type Flourishy Again.” Irony? Tone-deafness?
  2. Opposition to DEI. Trump people declared the move to Calibri a “wasteful program linked to DEI.” God forbid.
  3. Unified Identity. The change (back to TNR) aligns with President Trumps’ “One Voice For America’s Foreign Relations” Directive. Thank God?

You probably know how I feel about each font but Lucas de Groot, the Dutch inventor of Calibri, opines the return to TNR is “sad and hilarious” at the same time. Well said, and who cares about poor people with bad eyes. And switching back to TNR won’t cost a cent.

All players in this mega-important official United States policy issue should be thanked for opening my eyes to better writing and reading. (Get it?)

And the things you guys make me learn. Amen.

*Do I have to tell you that is an exaggeration? Hyperbole? Untruth? Whatever else you do, do NOT do a deep dive into fonts with Ai. Do do.

**That was a good time for Ai to be of service. Slacker.

***Try it yourself.

Another Amusing Thing About Old Age?

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As if physical decline (PD) wasn’t enough by itself, there is mental decline (MD) to worry about as a bonus for living longer. A strange oddity about MD is how does one observe said decline if one is the victim of said decline? Aching knees and joints are positive (WTF! Positive??) indicators of PD both my inner voice (IV) and outer voice (OV) easily recognize and process. Neither IV or OV is happy about it, but knowledge is power, and uncertainty is emotionally crippling. So when it comes to MD who will be the canary in the coalmine, IV or OV? Those two are already debating the issue in internal memos and hints of MD are leaking out through OV. IV has noticed lately, memories recounted by OV are being…embellished. Not outright fabricated stories but as IV searches the files it is finding inconsistencies in the tales OV is passing off as historical fact.

There are several memories (about five) from my past which are important milestones, or “forks in the road” for life as it unfolded. The memories used to be accurate recollections of times when life could have gone either way or at least changed direction. OV has retold those stories for years without inner turmoil or even discussion. The recollections were part of the story line of my life, with each recollection supporting each decision made and subsequent, related actions taken. Each story had its flaws, and its revealing moments where I might not have looked my best, despite persevering, and moving on with life.

But many times, in the last 34 months, as the stories have been recounted for medical professionals, new friends, or old friend wanting to know more, IV has raised its hand and suggested “That ain’t the way it happened.” For example, I’ve always told the story of a young, long-haired, hippy, radical Colgate freshman being escorted out a rural bar at the end of a shotgun. The listener is left free to assume a political or societal issue related to a liberal hippy in rural America. But here is what IV says: it was a drug deal gone bad, and I’d stepped on the toes of a local dealer running his operation out of the establishment in question. IV correctly points out I was a common criminal not a rebellious, anti-war icon. My power as an umpire over OV and IV is questionable, but there is no reason to believe IV wrong, as IV’s version of events paints a negative picture of the hero OV must want me to be.

But the real important issue is two pronged: 1. When did the story change? All of my internal voices knew the exact truth in November 1970, so when—and how—did the story change? And 2. How many of those “very important” memories have been infected with the “Need To Make It Better Virus? (NTBV). And is there a cure for NTBV and its possible variants?

My first hope is OV, IV and me are normal issues and the upgrading (upselling?) of memories is a normal function suffered by all who age gracefully. In other words, my extremely agile mind-group has found a way to get me to believe I’m not only normal, but also special for noticing it.

And I am heroic, as well, for talking about it in this open space.

Okay. To summarize…I may have some personality issues needing therapy and it is not heroic to note that, it is good, common sense.

But what if all of this is woke mumbo jumbo. What if IV is wrong? What if OV HAS been right all these years? What if…

All I know, now, is I wish God made easier signposts for MD. We need them.

It’s My Fault, It Has To Be

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I’ve spent a good part of this afternoon “chatting”, talking, and inventing new words to help in talking with customer service reps both human and Ai. Ai is starting to be as disappointing as humans. Twice Ai warned me. Once a disclaimer at the bottom of a search result: “Gemini can make mistakes, so double-check it.” The second time, on a phone call it said “You are speaking to an Ai generated agent and my information may not be precise or accurate.” Guess how I responded. There are two unopened bars of 100% pure Ivory Hand soap in my bathroom and if my mom were here…

To be straight, I’ve never used the internet singular for research of importance. Much as I use Amazon as a “shopping idea and reference”, so, too do I use an internet “fact”. It’s a starting point. So imagine when the new, super-charged search engine called Ai warns me they might be wrong, what is the point and who is kidding who about the efficiency of Ai in our future? Oddly, who would I double-check Ai with, anyway? God?

Is the internet good for anything, anymore? Yes. It saves legwork and time. My research finds a starting point and then looks for back-up, confirming, and supportive facts from other sources. Most often, those facts come from BOOKS or writings originating someplace else that wind up in the realm of public knowledge. News “aggregators”, sites that collect news stories the reader might like, are a case in point. The origin of the site’s stories is the most important thing to check in this click bait world. As a journalist by training, I know stories and articles from “legacy” media will not just be some podcaster’s opinion, but a researched, reviewed, edited, and approved work. An organization with some sort of review and edit structure has a better chance of giving us the truth than one, single mouth. I look for the source and hope it is The New York Times, Newsweek, USA Today, even CBS, NBC, and CNN…and Fox.  These organizations’ stories may contain some bias, but it is obvious when it happens. Watch Fox for half an hour and see. If a news article is from The Czech Daily, or John’s Basement Tapes, or an individual mouthpiece like Limbaugh, Bongino*, or Grandmas Knickers, it is more than likely click bait. It’s easier to see this with Medicine where excellent websites are available from The Mayo Clinic, Harvard Medical, Johns Hopkins, and your own local newspaper. As a bonus these types of sites also include patient blogs which can be invaluable for your own unique situation.

The internet is still a wonderful place for pure entertainment. You can not only see a man get hit in his gonads but can also see The Benny Goodman Quartet at New York’s Carnegie Hall in 1938.** But you are all aware of those neat things, already so it’s YOUR fault if you don’t find them and safely enjoy them.

It can be a neat, easy, and productive foray into the the nether world, out there, as long as you know who your guide is, and what they want from you. It isn’t always peace and love.

*Props for Mr. Bongino, the FBI Deputy Director. When asked about his false conspiracy claims from the past he said, truthfully and honestly: “I was paid in the past, Sean, for my opinions. …but that’s not what I’m paid for now.”

**A special performance, The first “mainstream” jazz concert.

Not So Obvious Common-Sense Things for Seniors

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Hope seniors know these already, and if you’re a young’un, they can help you, too. You will get old, if you’re lucky.

Use a “fitness watch” to help with diet and exercise and don’t stop it when you’re done exercising. Or stop it and then start it again as you shower and dress. You’ll be surprised at how hard you work getting clean and dressed to go home after your fitness session.

If you don’t have a fitness watch, get one. It is an interesting device that can do almost anything, including recording your sleep/nap time. Get one with the “fall-safe” option. It will call 911 if you fall and don’t answer the watch’s question in 30 seconds. At least my google watch will. Of note: Ace Frehly, the KISS guitarist, recently died from the results of a fall at home. Not sure if a watch would have helped, but it can’t hurt. Think “Help me, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” ads from years ago.

Amazon has entire pages of shoes for all seasons made specifically for seniors to “slip-on” without exerting the type of effort a fitness watch would record *. Of course, you can still wear lace-up shoes and add extra calories to your fitness routine. No, there are no “slip-on” socks, yet so we still bend over to remove and put on most socks. If you get loose fitting ones, you can get the socks off without bending over and save a few ergs of energy. Get a “reacher”** to pick them up if bending over is anathematic. (Today’s new word. Ask Ai.)

Give your most trusted child *** a key to your home or apartment building, Then, when you fall asleep for your afternoon nap the child can drop stuff off without waking you. It gives them the chance to check up on you, too, and see how clean and aromatic your home or apartment might or might not be. It would help, too, if you both had some sort of communication schedule, especially if the senior lives alone. My daughter and I try to talk every day or at least three times a week, and we never miss more than two days in a row. In a worst-case scenario, if I went to heaven in my apartment, it would only be two days before they found my rotting carcass. My building maintenance man says he wouldn’t know about “any” corpse until it started to smell. Don’t laugh, reader, it is a fact, not hyperbole for humor. Ai says “putrefaction” would take 4 to 10 days depending….

Depending on where you live, buy more reading glasses, cheap gloves, and cheap hats than you need. Due to our natural cognitive decline, it’s better to have these things in abundance than to need them and not have them, especially on cold, winter days. Or when shopping and trying to read labels. Look in Dollar Stores for economic quantity, and if you still trust yourself, buy decent ones from Macy’s. Oh, and Amazon, again: I bought 12 pairs of brown Jersey gloves for $9. Some are in the house, some are in the car, some in my man-bag/gym bag, and some are resting in the dresser drawer for when the others run away from home. Note: if you’re buying me a Christmas Present, do not buy fancy gloves or hats. If you do, and they are really pricey, they’ll stay in the drawer rather than mysteriously disappear. Hopefully, they can be re-gifted to “someone with all their faculties intact.” (See
“For Esme-with Love and Squalor” by J.D. Salinger. 1950)

In a later post we’ll talk about “layering” to keep warm, get cool, and then warm up, again, all with one coordinated outfit.

And if you live in a warm climate…you needn’t care about most of this post, you lucky bastage.****

 *Except for summer. Or a move to the south. No socks! Socks suck

**You know what it is: a squeezy thingy at the end of an extension thing-a-ma-jiggy.

***If you have one.

****Michael Keaton in “Johnny Dangerously”, 1984.

Impatience is a virtue?

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There was a time when life was full of running fast, driving fast, going to bed late, getting up early, drinking, and eating whatever was available*. And there was never enough time to do it all. School and work wasted so many hours. It was a time of adventures, mistakes, missteps, too many beers, not enough money, and occasional involuntary vomiting.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” somebody ** wrote in 1859. Is it different for young people in this century? In the 1960s and 70s there was a sense of uncertainty, unease, and nuclear doom. American cities were burning, young people were dying in Viet Nam and on college campus, and Richard Nixon was supposed to be our president. The uncertainty and unease led to an undefined certainty the world was not going to last much longer, prompting my generation to wonder if we’d make it past the age of 30. It was a time, and you can understand how it skewed our decision making about the future.

America in 2025 is reminiscent of that 20th century era.

While young people naturally thrive on chaos, they prefer it be of their own making, not from the governments who stockpile weapons so powerful if they all exploded at once we’d rocket to Mars…in pieces.  A young person’s rough day should be because they burned the candle at both hands, working hard in the day and playing hard at night, until they outgrew their own stupidity. But these days working and playing have been replaced by worrying, by an unlabeled anxiety used as inspiration for inaction (sic) of any kind. Unlike my father, who viewed and judged my generational cohorts as “troublemakers”, I see lethargy, inactivity, profound sorrow, and aimlessness in the current young generation. Especially in young men. It should be noted an old man does not have much contact with the young of any kind, anymore, but the driveway, backyard, and road games of our historical youth have now been replaced by the bright, colorful, toxic seductions of video games and on-line adolescent experimenting. The bullying of older students over younger students, historically performed and endured in real life by generations ***, is now an online phenomenon with markedly different and dangerous possibilities. Worse, when we played those “road games” like stickball, parents knew where we were and knew the risk: cars running us over and abrasions severe enough to need shorts and gauze for most of the year. The new youth can hide in the physical safety of their basement, their bedrooms, and even in the backseat of the car and enter unhealthy worlds and relationships without parents ever knowing, sometimes with emotional and bodily consequences too hideous to contemplate even with proof of the carnage.

It may be the senior fondness for a re-painted Golden Age, but when the robots come, what next? Will the next generation of youth ever be young like we remember young? Or will they be…

As we, all adults, fight and scrap over macro terms like democracy, fascism, and preferred pronouns, the youth of this and succeeding generations will be watching and responding, looking for clues on how to live life and be happy. Is it even possible we can set an example?

*Yes. All before high school graduation. Parents trusted kids more, back then. Ironic?

**Made you look. I know who, but Ai wants me to put a semicolon after the first “times”. Was Dickens wrong to use a comma? I’m stickin’ with Dickens.

***I was both bullied and bully, as were most of us, except for the exceptional young people who had sense enough—and were lucky enough not to not get drawn into either. Those people became lawyers. Doctors, and politicians.