What just happened?

I try to watch the news everyday but where is it?  I feel like the news has succumbed to a social media event rather than detailing actual events.  They seem to create the news for us and why?  Isn’t there enough real out there to report on?

After watching the love fest between the media and our president yesterday during his first lame duck presentation, I began to wonder what the media was all about.  Where are the hard hitting reporters who feel the need to protect the public from ….everything?  Lois Lane is gone and she has been replaced by a sycophant.

I grew up listening to Walter Cronkite who held no allegiances with any organization or politico and reported the news with dignity and respect but it was truthful.   All of the news today is like Wikipedia; a conglomeration of opinion with no fact checking until it’s too late.  When did Facebook become the model for the Today Show?

We can probably agree that the news media is more of an entertainment industry now, vying for ratings as the chief issue, rather than respectful and insightful reporting; but why did this happen?  Are we merely interested in being voyeurs rather than intelligentsia?

I spend my retirement day searching for real unadulterated (pun intended) news and do you know where I find it?  I find it more on YouTube than on mainstream media environments.  Of course I have to skip over the many people trying to achieve stardom but there are undiluted videos of world events as taken by the participants on site in world news events.  But trying to find real news on YouTube is like trying to find books from the Library of Congress that have been dumped on the floor; its challenging at best.

I am tired of the starlet and coiffured news of today and long for the real news of yesterday.  Now I am not unaware of the filtered news of the past; controlled by politicians but when real news occurred; I could at least trust the reporter to try his best.  And let me say this is not just an age thing that I am older and want to see older reporters because each station has their version of the older reporter for suit my eyes; it has to do with reporting integrity which seems to have slipped into the nether region of today’s media (pun intended again, sorry.)

When is too old to live alone?

The older I get, the more I realize that my days of independence are dwindling.  Both of my parents are deceased but my significant other’s mother, one I refer to as mom, is finding life in her own home more complex than before but mostly for us.

We worry constantly and she laughs it off with her usual alacrity.  I think her goal is to die in her own home and why shouldn’t she feel this way?  Her friends and neighbors are there for her; her family members make regular visits; but is this enough and is this reasoning correct?

We all want to ensure that our wishes are followed as we age but are we making the correct decisions and are we thinking right?  The older I get, the more determined I get but I have noticed that I am not always correct about what I am thinking.  I have started to perceive that stubbornness creeps into my mind that defrays the former astute logic that once replaced these same thoughts.

Each week on TV, I hear about senior, senior citizens who drive long after their reflexes should allow them to which results in them  doing permanent damage to others all in the name of  independence. Which is right?  I always think you err on the side of logic; on what’s good for the general population as compared to what’s right for just me but when should I make that determination or is it something my son and/or friends will do?

We start our lives being dependent upon others totally….are we meant to end our lives the same way?  I am a part of the baby boomer generation; a large group of independent beings full of pride and quite capable of running our own lives until we are not able.  When does that happen and will I know it or does it just creep up on you like a bad chill in the night.

I have always believed that my brain was my best asset and that was all I needed to bring me happiness but what good is a fine brain trapped in a useless vessel that doesn't respond to everyday commands? 

I want to remain self aware.  I do not want to be a burden to my son or others.  I want to be fiercely independent.  Please grant me the reason to know when I need help…

Shattered glass…

When tempered glass is broken, it shatters but it clings together as a safety measure.  The people I know and have seen affected by hurricane Sandy look like splintered tempered glass.  They are all put together yet broken by the effects of the storm.

We can all say that they mostly lost “things,” personal effects by and large, but what has this experience cost them.  You see them on television saying they will rebuild or not; some crying; some not; some looking for that one insignificant piece of memorabilia that hung on the refrigerator; but they all look shattered; violently demolished like the homes they once shared.

Yesterday I attended a family party and several members of the family came even though they were victims of the storm.  They came to celebrate a positive event but their eyes were deadened by their own tragedies and their exhaustion was palpable.

As a child, we moved often, mostly because my mother couldn't afford to pay the rent.  There were times when I came home from elementary school only to find a sheriff’s notice on the door with chains forbidding entry: eviction. Sometimes, we stole back in the night to attempt to retrieve personal effects, sometimes not.  I remember the horror of someone, something forbidding my entry into my home.  I remember the loss of safety as my home was taken away.  I remember searching for that one insignificant item that would make me feel better.

I understand the loss these people feel.  I recognize the look in their eyes. I've seen it in the mirror.  I know what it’s like to be shattered glass. 

They need genuine care, human warmth and understanding, and comfort, some of which will only come when they reconnect with their new home environment; when they can feel safe and whole once again.

I wish them peace.  They will never forget how this feels.  They are forever changed. The mirror will never let them forget.

Hello Sandy….

I haven’t known many Sandys in my life and I’m not referring to hurricanes but people named Sandy but I’ve always been fond of that name.  It’s probably the reference to Grease, the play, or Sandra Dee in general, that makes me think positively but now we have a hurricane named Sandy.

Why do they give hurricanes names and personify them at all?  They are natural occurrences of nature but they are usually devastating events no matter where they occur.  I realize they rotate the names based on the letters of the alphabet and, to be politically correct, they now name them after men as well as women but why name them after people?

I was always told my elders, as a child, that they named the hurricanes after women because they are so unpredictable, like women, and after all doesn’t the word hurricane include the phonogram “her”.  But what about the devastating effects caused by these storms; the loss of life, the loss of personal effects?  In fact, they don’t name tornadoes and they don’t name cyclones, the other version of hurricanes, do they?

When something is personified, it is done so to add human attributes to a non human entity like Peter Rabbit but storms just don’t fit that moniker, do they?  They are not friendly, they are not welcomed, they are not indicative of human nature, or are they?

As I understand and have experienced human nature, we can be beastly creatures, unpredictable, and generally uncontrollable at times, in fact, murderous entities unwilling to stop until we peter out from exhaustion.  Well maybe I am making a case for personifying tropical cyclones after all.  We all remember the significant weather events like Gloria, Irene, and others especially on Long Island.

I live in Florida now but I find myself up in New York for Sandy.  I have personally lived through a number of these storms and was more affected by their resulting damage then their interim storm event.  Like others, I found it fascinating to witness the aftereffect of the muscle of these storms: the floods, the downed trees; the loss of power; the sheer power of wind and rain.

 Sandy is already overstaying her welcome in the NY area and I am already tired of the reporters standing in the same areas where people have been forced to evacuate.  How many times can we watch their hats blowing off; their camera lenses filled with raindrops offering breaking news of overflowing banks, loss of electric power; and reporters standing in sea foam and water?

Now I understand why they name these storms; we are all voyeurs titillated by forceful and uncontrollable characters; all this and just in time for Halloween; trick or treat anyone?

Coffee please...

There is so much I want to say in these blogs.  My life is so much more enriched as a senior citizen than it was in my youth and I feel compelled to analyze and share so that others might share this moment along with me.

 I now have the time to be gracious.  I have the time to be thankful.  I can enjoy so many of the atomic particles of happiness that I missed before with my hurried and me centered life style.

I think that the older you get, the more you slow down but that’s not a bad concept.  I am starting to sense the lovely nuances of life that I missed in my speedy, hurry up and do lifestyle.

Yesterday I had a beautiful day; we had some of our relatives over; the older set, and it was wonderful. When was the last time you sat with a World War II veteran and his bride and had the chance to laugh over the silliest of jokes?  He’s an amazing man; full of life, tender, silly, sweet; and he has to be one of the most adorable men I have ever met. So caring, loving, and still in love with his sweetheart of over 65 years who shares the same love and tenderness with him and all others.  Their bond, their love is engaging and one that makes you feel warm all over.  What’s also remarkable is that I am not envious of them because I feel included in their love; their relationship emanates such warmth to all those around them.

Don’t you want to know where all of these sweet sensitive men are; the considerate ones, the ones who wake each morning asking themselves how they can make their spouses happy each and every day?  They are all around us and yet we have trouble noticing them. I think it’s because we, as women, forget to ask ourselves how to make our spouses happy first. Is this an old fashioned concept, a fairy tale that is unattainable?

So, you might be thinking, you have to be an octogenarian to experience this type of happiness but the answer is no.  You also might be wondering if these types of relationships are fictional at best or lost to the current generations but the answer is no again.  And finally, you might believe that these story bound relationships are too rare to believe in but the answer is again no.

I know another much younger couple, Mimi and John, who have this special bond and and have had this type of mystical marriage for so many years.  What’s the answer then?  I believe the secret is twofold:  each partner has to have the same drive and intentions to want to please the other.  

We've all heard that you get more happiness by pleasing others yet our society promotes the “happiness of one” style; encourages you to forget the others in your life if they are too hard to please and just please yourself…a walkman/ I Pod mentality.  But the true joy of life comes with pleasing others which includes your strong personal relationships as well as casual strangers and this formula works for all.

Bing Crosby will soon be encouraging  us to “count our blessings” as the holiday season descends upon us but I say create your blessings; show the people you love, real love; think of them first; do something small, gesture like, and make sure when they say they love you; tell them you love them more and mean it.

Happiness One Day at a time: Facebook is our new collective memory…

Happiness One Day at a time: Facebook is our new collective memory…: I know I am getting old because I spend a lot time reflecting; looking backwards if you will.  My memory of certain days in the past is sk...

Facebook is our new collective memory…

I know I am getting old because I spend a lot time reflecting; looking backwards if you will.  My memory of certain days in the past is sketchy at best and I rely heavily on others with their sketchy memories to fill in the blanks for me…that’s where Facebook comes in.  It’s the new collective truth about the past.

Joe says the best times of our lives are behind us and he has fond memories of his childhood even though his occurred in Carnarsie of all places.  He liked the 50’s; I didn't.  It was a great family time for him and a bad one for me.  I prefer to live in the 60’s and a little bit of the 80’s in my reveries. 

I like all of the “remember when” references on Facebook.  It gives me a jolt to my memory and allows me the option of dredging up childhood memories that I choose to think about.  I also enjoy the “pile on” effect where lots of people add to the memory chain and refer to their own personal experiences.  I can picture the smiles on their faces as they comment on the sweet thoughts that they just shared with others.

Some people have fabulous collections of their past.  One friend, Luke, has an amazing history in pictures of his past and shares them willingly with everyone.  I envy his collection and I spend hours staring at the small black and white photographs to see the many faces of people I know, knew, and encountered in my past.  You can see the essence of who someone is in these early pictures; their smiles seem to always stay the same (or their lack thereof); the part in their hair; the people they are clinging to in the photo; is there a dog in the frame? What street are they standing on? What’s in the background?

The other day someone put a video of a parade online and I actually saw myself as a careless 14 year old marching down the street.  I barely recognized this young teen version of me and it seemed to catch me totally unawares.  Who was that girl?  Where is she today?  Is that me or is that some girl I don’t know… Did that girl really grow up to be me?

It’s difficult to say how much I resemble that 14 year old because that seems like another lifetime away from me.  I could see how haunted I looked in those days even though I was smiling faintly.  How I wish that I could be that 14 year old girl looking at my 60 year old picture today and drawing conclusions.  What would I see?  What would I think about this older woman?  What conclusions would I draw?  Oh Facebook, did you mean for these thoughts to occur or is this an accident of happenstance. Either way, thanks for sharing everyone; keep putting those pictures up so we can all see and remember what once was.