Don’t you just hate it when you start to think you’re moving from scatterbrained to senior moments?
I just went to Minneapolis for a conference, and most of the trip went smoothly. Of course, one morning, I put my coffee on to brew while I took a shower. It was one of those pots that make a cup at a time so you insert the little packet of coffee, pour a cup of water in, put the cup under the spout and push the button. Simple. After my shower, I went to collect my cup only to discover I had forgotten one simple step—the one where I put the cup back under the spout. Ooops. It isn’t easy to sop up a whole cup of coffee with Kleenex. Thank goodness the tray caught most of it, or it would have been even harder.
After that, things would only have to go uphill, right? And they pretty much did until I decided after a grueling day to go to the ice machine to get some ice for my Diet Pepsi. I pulled the card out of the envelope and stuck it in my back pocket and strolled down the hallway to the ice machine. This hotel didn’t have normal hallways. They zagged off in several directions, but I only went down the wrong hallway once. I got my bucket of ice and made it back through the maze to my room. I pulled the card out of my back pocket to unlock the door and found myself looking at the GO pass for the light rail.
Okay, so I know darn good and well that the Go pass isn’t going to open my door. I set the bucket of ice down and thought about how to get into my room. Finally, I decided the best bet was to go to the front desk and tell them I’d locked myself out.
“Do you have any ID?” the clerk asked me.
“Of course not,” I said. “I was only going for a bucket of ice. My ID is in the room with my other worldy belongings.” After asking a few verification questions, she gave me a key. She probably looked at me and thought—senior moment—give her a key while she still remembers her room number.
I’m back home now so things should get better. As far as going to church this morning with only one earring—we can call that a fashion statement instead of a senior moment, can’t we?
copyright (c) July 2010 L.S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Boomerang Come Back
When I listen to my iPod I sometimes think I’ve boomeranged back into the sixties. I downloaded all my favorite CDs and must admit that my collection is heavy on the music that was popular during my high school years. Music can be an instant connection to a flood of memories. I try to collect only music associated with don’t-worry-be-happy thoughts. Even happy recollections can cause that nostalgic feeling that hits right in the pit of my stomach.
My trial subscription to XM radio has almost expired, and I am struggling with whether it is worth renewing so I can listen to “60s on 6.” Sometimes when I push the button to hang up my hands free phone, I accidently change the radio station. I’ll be driving along and realize I’m listing to spa music, which I find relaxing, and, of course, reminds me to make an appointment for a massage. Or, I might tune in the Nashville station and hear some favorite country tunes and the memories associated with them.
Music is an easy way for me to channel the feeling of Paul McCartney’s “Yesterday” and those days when we boomers thought we were going to change the world. It was a time when the life that lay ahead of us was mysterious and filled with endless possibilities—all we had to do was find ourselves so we could find our way.
Now, we boomers have boomeranged to a new era as we face retirement and look forward to the rest of our lives, finding ourselves in a different era and body, but still thinking about the exciting new possibilities as the road ahead gets shorter. Aren’t we once again those boomers who want to change the world? That is still our goal to leave the world a better place for our children and grandchildren.
copyright (c) L. S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
My trial subscription to XM radio has almost expired, and I am struggling with whether it is worth renewing so I can listen to “60s on 6.” Sometimes when I push the button to hang up my hands free phone, I accidently change the radio station. I’ll be driving along and realize I’m listing to spa music, which I find relaxing, and, of course, reminds me to make an appointment for a massage. Or, I might tune in the Nashville station and hear some favorite country tunes and the memories associated with them.
Music is an easy way for me to channel the feeling of Paul McCartney’s “Yesterday” and those days when we boomers thought we were going to change the world. It was a time when the life that lay ahead of us was mysterious and filled with endless possibilities—all we had to do was find ourselves so we could find our way.
Now, we boomers have boomeranged to a new era as we face retirement and look forward to the rest of our lives, finding ourselves in a different era and body, but still thinking about the exciting new possibilities as the road ahead gets shorter. Aren’t we once again those boomers who want to change the world? That is still our goal to leave the world a better place for our children and grandchildren.
copyright (c) L. S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Boomer Music: Woodstock and the Ozark Music Festival
I read an article about Woodstock, NY, last week in American Profile. Of course, when I hear “Woodstock” I’m thinking 1969 and the festival, or “An Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace & Music.” In reality, Woodstock was not in the town of Woodstock but rather on Max Yasgur’s 600 acre dairy farm near Bethel, NY. During the festival, 500,000 people converged on the farm creating a national spectacle. Woodstock, 2010, is a sleepy, artsy village that has incorporated the famous festival with the same name in their tourist offerings. The town of 6,241 has 500 artists and 20 galleries.
Here in Sedalia, MO, July 1974, on the Missouri State Fairgrounds, we had a mini-version of Woodstock known as the Ozark Music Festival. I lived in town then, and nothing prepared us for the chaos that would overtake our lives throughout the three-day festival.
Most of us were naïve enough to believe it was going to be a bluegrass festival with a little “pop rock” thrown in. How wild could that be? When rumors began that our little festival was getting national attention, the locals pointed out that the Earl Scruggs Revue was listed on the posters. Of course, others were listed as well—The Eagles, Bruce Spingsteen, Bob Seger, Aerosmith, Ted Nugent—and the list went on and on.
The bluegrass festival was advertised as “No Hassles Guaranteed” and I think promoters may have failed to mention the blue part of the grass. Once the seventeen mile traffic jams cleared out, Sedalia was invaded for the duration.
My husband and I finally had to see for ourselves what was going on and took an evening drive past the fairgrounds. I particularly remember a man strolling down the street wearing nothing but a towel—and it was hanging over his shoulder. Topless women were everywhere. Naked people spilled off the fairgrounds and along Sixteenth Street as they scouted the area for food, water, and beer.
Festival goers took over unattended garden hoses to shower in front yards. They discovered the quarry lake and converged on it skinny dipping to avoid the 100 degree July heat. Around 1,000 people suffering from drug overdoses and dehydration were transported to the local hospital. Stores closed down because they were overrun with scantily dressed hordes of people.
Estimates of the crowd range from 160,000 to 350,000. They did more than $100,000 damage to the fairgrounds and the with the state fair a few scant weeks later, heavy equipment was used to doze the filth away. The Ozark Music Festival is called one of the largest and most forgotten festivals. Maybe the world has forgotten, but longtime residents of Sedalia, especially boomers, remember the festival well.
Copyright © July 2010 L. S. Fisher
http//earlyonset.blogspot.com
Here in Sedalia, MO, July 1974, on the Missouri State Fairgrounds, we had a mini-version of Woodstock known as the Ozark Music Festival. I lived in town then, and nothing prepared us for the chaos that would overtake our lives throughout the three-day festival.
Most of us were naïve enough to believe it was going to be a bluegrass festival with a little “pop rock” thrown in. How wild could that be? When rumors began that our little festival was getting national attention, the locals pointed out that the Earl Scruggs Revue was listed on the posters. Of course, others were listed as well—The Eagles, Bruce Spingsteen, Bob Seger, Aerosmith, Ted Nugent—and the list went on and on.
The bluegrass festival was advertised as “No Hassles Guaranteed” and I think promoters may have failed to mention the blue part of the grass. Once the seventeen mile traffic jams cleared out, Sedalia was invaded for the duration.
My husband and I finally had to see for ourselves what was going on and took an evening drive past the fairgrounds. I particularly remember a man strolling down the street wearing nothing but a towel—and it was hanging over his shoulder. Topless women were everywhere. Naked people spilled off the fairgrounds and along Sixteenth Street as they scouted the area for food, water, and beer.
Festival goers took over unattended garden hoses to shower in front yards. They discovered the quarry lake and converged on it skinny dipping to avoid the 100 degree July heat. Around 1,000 people suffering from drug overdoses and dehydration were transported to the local hospital. Stores closed down because they were overrun with scantily dressed hordes of people.
Estimates of the crowd range from 160,000 to 350,000. They did more than $100,000 damage to the fairgrounds and the with the state fair a few scant weeks later, heavy equipment was used to doze the filth away. The Ozark Music Festival is called one of the largest and most forgotten festivals. Maybe the world has forgotten, but longtime residents of Sedalia, especially boomers, remember the festival well.
Copyright © July 2010 L. S. Fisher
http//earlyonset.blogspot.com
Monday, July 5, 2010
Vampires Just Aren't What They Used to Be
When I was young, a vampire was a scary thing—out to rob you of life so he could remain eternally young. They were usually handsome, but you knew at heart they were evil and dangerous to be around. You wanted the beautiful, but foolish, girl to see her life was in jeopardy and flee to safety.
Now, thanks to New Moon and Eclipse, vampires are all the rage. And, even more shocking, some of them are not evil at all and fight their impulse to bite humans. They are the new superheroes.
I just can’t be that supportive of Edward, the vampire in New Moon and Eclipse. I much prefer Jacob, the werewolf. He is much manlier and has a normal personality—well at least until he turns into a wolf and races through the forest on all fours. I have to totally agree with Jacob when he tells Edward, “I’m much hotter than you.”
I think Edward looks a little sickly and that pasty complexion doesn’t do anything for me. And something about his advanced age (how many years???), makes me think he is totally inappropriate for Bella. And Bella herself, duh, why would any woman want to become a vampire?
I’m thinking Bella must be under a spell to prefer the vampire to the werewolf. My granddaughter says I just don’t get it and has given me advanced warning that Bella takes the plunge in the final book. I told her I think the author is making a big mistake by doing that. She should have eventually had Bella figure out that Jacob is, by far, the better choice. Either that or some serious recasting needs to take place for the next movie.
Do you remember Michael Landon in I Was a Teenage Werewolf? I’m thinking werewolves were always hot.
Yeh, I never was fond of vampires. It’s not that I’m afraid of vampires anymore, but I do know I have always felt a little protective of my neck. That just because I’m ticklish, right?
copyright (c) July 2010 L.S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
Now, thanks to New Moon and Eclipse, vampires are all the rage. And, even more shocking, some of them are not evil at all and fight their impulse to bite humans. They are the new superheroes.
I just can’t be that supportive of Edward, the vampire in New Moon and Eclipse. I much prefer Jacob, the werewolf. He is much manlier and has a normal personality—well at least until he turns into a wolf and races through the forest on all fours. I have to totally agree with Jacob when he tells Edward, “I’m much hotter than you.”
I think Edward looks a little sickly and that pasty complexion doesn’t do anything for me. And something about his advanced age (how many years???), makes me think he is totally inappropriate for Bella. And Bella herself, duh, why would any woman want to become a vampire?
I’m thinking Bella must be under a spell to prefer the vampire to the werewolf. My granddaughter says I just don’t get it and has given me advanced warning that Bella takes the plunge in the final book. I told her I think the author is making a big mistake by doing that. She should have eventually had Bella figure out that Jacob is, by far, the better choice. Either that or some serious recasting needs to take place for the next movie.
Do you remember Michael Landon in I Was a Teenage Werewolf? I’m thinking werewolves were always hot.
Yeh, I never was fond of vampires. It’s not that I’m afraid of vampires anymore, but I do know I have always felt a little protective of my neck. That just because I’m ticklish, right?
copyright (c) July 2010 L.S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
Saturday, June 26, 2010
A Drive Down Memory Lane
Last night I took a detour on my way home to drive down the main street of my hometown. I thought I might possibly see someone I knew. After all, the advantage of a small town was walking down the sidewalk and seeing familiar faces. It’s not that I hadn’t been back to my hometown—I was there during the Christmas Parade a couple years ago. At that time, there was activity going on, and I had a chance to visit with people I hadn’t seen in years.
At about 7 o’clock on a Friday night, it was a different situation. I turned onto the street and felt like I had entered the Twilight Zone. Abandoned buildings stood in spots that had at one time bustled with activity. I could barely make out the lettering on Cooper’s Grocery Store where every Saturday we filled up two carts with groceries for our big family. Where was the drugstore where I bought milkshakes, malts, or cherry cokes served up by the owner, Bob Hagedorn?
The only two vehicles on the entire street were parked in front of the Gallery which used to be Nolting’s Department Store. Where Kipp’s Drygoods had been, junk was piled in the display windows.
I made a U-turn at the end of the street just like everyone did when I was growing up. As I drove back down the street, I looked for more landmarks as I dredged up visions from my childhood. I saw the building that at one time housed the “pool hall” where many spirited games were played on Saturday afternoon. I looked for the theatre where we watched movies when they finally made it to our town.
Tears clouded my vision to see the hometown of my childhood deserted and lonely. Not one person was to be seen.
As I drove back past Cooper’s store a car pulled up to the stop sign and seemed to stop in surprise that another vehicle was on the street. I saw an older lady in a big old-fashioned car. What did she think of me, the woman in a red Malibu cruising the main drag? She probably thought I was some crazy tourist who had made a wrong turn and was lost.
Maybe I was a little lost. I know my hometown is gone and now lives only in memories and faded photographs.
copyright (c) June 2010 L.S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
At about 7 o’clock on a Friday night, it was a different situation. I turned onto the street and felt like I had entered the Twilight Zone. Abandoned buildings stood in spots that had at one time bustled with activity. I could barely make out the lettering on Cooper’s Grocery Store where every Saturday we filled up two carts with groceries for our big family. Where was the drugstore where I bought milkshakes, malts, or cherry cokes served up by the owner, Bob Hagedorn?
The only two vehicles on the entire street were parked in front of the Gallery which used to be Nolting’s Department Store. Where Kipp’s Drygoods had been, junk was piled in the display windows.
I made a U-turn at the end of the street just like everyone did when I was growing up. As I drove back down the street, I looked for more landmarks as I dredged up visions from my childhood. I saw the building that at one time housed the “pool hall” where many spirited games were played on Saturday afternoon. I looked for the theatre where we watched movies when they finally made it to our town.
Tears clouded my vision to see the hometown of my childhood deserted and lonely. Not one person was to be seen.
As I drove back past Cooper’s store a car pulled up to the stop sign and seemed to stop in surprise that another vehicle was on the street. I saw an older lady in a big old-fashioned car. What did she think of me, the woman in a red Malibu cruising the main drag? She probably thought I was some crazy tourist who had made a wrong turn and was lost.
Maybe I was a little lost. I know my hometown is gone and now lives only in memories and faded photographs.
copyright (c) June 2010 L.S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Alzheimer's Reading Room: What is it like being an Alzheimer's caregiver? Unconditional Love
I submitted an article to Alzheimer's Reading Room about my caregiving experience. The Reading Room is an excellent source of information about Alzheimer's and includes everything from research information to personal stories like mine. Kudos to Bob DeMarco for maintaining and constantly updating this excellent site!
Alzheimer's Reading Room: What is it like being an Alzheimer's caregiver? Unconditional Love
Alzheimer's Reading Room: What is it like being an Alzheimer's caregiver? Unconditional Love
Monday, June 21, 2010
Another Year Older
Have you noticed how those birthdays just keep rolling around? I’m pretty sure I’m just imagining it, but it seems like the years are getting shorter.
I’m still shocked when I look at the calendar and notice that June is half over. Before you know it, the shopping days until Christmas countdown will begin. I’m not even sure I have all my Christmas decorations put away from last year. In fact, I know my Christmas lights—or should I just call them party lights?—are still wrapped around my deck railing. At least they are clear, so I can claim they have been left in place intentionally.
Anyway, I know it is officially my birthday because my sister-in-law delivered my birthday watermelon. She and my late brother-in-law, Dennis, gave me my first birthday watermelon when we visited them in Glendale, Arizona. Dennis carved “Happy Birthday Linda” on it. I believe he even had a candle stuck in it. Ginger has carried on the tradition without fail.
Okay, so birthdays aren’t all bad even when you’ve had so many you’re in danger of losing count. Someone asked me if I was 29 and I said, “Don’t be ridiculous—I’m 39.” Oh, wait a minute, that’s the exact age of my oldest son.
The bad thing about fudging on your age is people think you aren't aging well. Is it better to just fess up and let them tell you, you look so much younger? Last year, my son took me out to dinner and told them I was 65. This year he asked if I was 70?
On my birthday, I ate at Perkins. I ordered my delicious tilapia off the senior menu without being carded. They consider anyone over 55 to be a senior. I think we boomers need to come up with a better title than senior, which makes me think of someone who is ready to graduate. Does this mean whoever coined the term thinks we are about to kick the bucket, or "graduate" from life?
Maybe there are a few perks about getting older. My watermelon is in the fridge chilled to perfection. Discounts are sweet no matter what you call them. So look out senior discounts, here I come.
Copyright (c) June 2010 L.S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
I’m still shocked when I look at the calendar and notice that June is half over. Before you know it, the shopping days until Christmas countdown will begin. I’m not even sure I have all my Christmas decorations put away from last year. In fact, I know my Christmas lights—or should I just call them party lights?—are still wrapped around my deck railing. At least they are clear, so I can claim they have been left in place intentionally.
Anyway, I know it is officially my birthday because my sister-in-law delivered my birthday watermelon. She and my late brother-in-law, Dennis, gave me my first birthday watermelon when we visited them in Glendale, Arizona. Dennis carved “Happy Birthday Linda” on it. I believe he even had a candle stuck in it. Ginger has carried on the tradition without fail.
Okay, so birthdays aren’t all bad even when you’ve had so many you’re in danger of losing count. Someone asked me if I was 29 and I said, “Don’t be ridiculous—I’m 39.” Oh, wait a minute, that’s the exact age of my oldest son.
The bad thing about fudging on your age is people think you aren't aging well. Is it better to just fess up and let them tell you, you look so much younger? Last year, my son took me out to dinner and told them I was 65. This year he asked if I was 70?
On my birthday, I ate at Perkins. I ordered my delicious tilapia off the senior menu without being carded. They consider anyone over 55 to be a senior. I think we boomers need to come up with a better title than senior, which makes me think of someone who is ready to graduate. Does this mean whoever coined the term thinks we are about to kick the bucket, or "graduate" from life?
Maybe there are a few perks about getting older. My watermelon is in the fridge chilled to perfection. Discounts are sweet no matter what you call them. So look out senior discounts, here I come.
Copyright (c) June 2010 L.S. Fisher
http://boomerobics.blogspot.com
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