Outdated Language - Let's be Cool

When was the last time you wrapped something in tin foil and put it in the icebox? Were you wearing sneakers and a blouse – or perhaps a housecoat? Had you been sitting in the front room or the parlor using the shears to cut out coupons that you keep in your pocketbook? Had you used the sweeper on the rug?

Okay, now be honest. How many of you still use the words in that first paragraph? If you do, your younger friends and grandkids will think you are as old as dirt. Over the hill. Don’t know your butt from third base. I could go on and on with these pejorative

phrases, but I’ll spare you. Consider this a conscious-raising column designed for baby boomers who don’t want to sound stale and out of the loop.

What got me thinking about all this was the mention to my friend’s granddaughter that I liked her blouse. She had no idea what I was talking about. That word has died it seems. Everyone wears shirts now.

This was very upsetting. We boomers were the original All-American trendsetters. It began with our poodle skirts, then our minis, maxis, midis, and somewhere in between culottes. What we said was in, was IN. I realize that our time has passed in that regard, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t still be cool in our own way. Yes, cool is still in use – has never gone out of style, and will probably always be useful in this context.

Since I have an Olympic-sized pool of twenty-somethings in my workplace, I asked them what they heard from their elders that was older than Turner Classic Movies. I got some good stuff to share with you. Don’t ask anyone if they’re “going steady.” They have no idea what that means. They’re “in a relationship” or “an exclusive relationship.” If they’re on the verge of a relationship, they’re “talking.” “Hooking up” is shorthand for a one-night stand – usually. This is kind of a grey area. Young women can’t really call their friend a “girlfriend” because that now has a same-sex relationship connotation. Whew! My head is spinning just figuring out the language, let alone the nuts and bolts.

They hate when their parents tell them they “sound like a broken record.” They have never seen a record. A broken record is someone setting a new marathon time, or home run scoring.

Expressions like “Oh my stars!” and “Holy Moley” just don’t cut it with them. Also, one complained that her dad tells her to “roll down the window” of their car, and still refers to the place where they get gas as “the filling station.” She goes there to fill up her Big Gulp.

Prepare to get blank stares if you tell a youngen’ to meet you at half past two. They see time as a digital read out and can’t comprehend the hands of a clock.

I hope some of this has been enlightening and helpful to you. I know that I’ve barely scratched the surface with my limited space here, so I’m opening the floor to you now. Ask the younger generation around you for some more examples, and e-mail them to me, and I will share them with my other cool readers.

Meanwhile, I still have an off-white half slip in my dresser drawer, and I’m not sure why.

What the heck is vaping?

I remember how shocked I was the first time I saw someone in a public place talking on a cell phone. It must have been 1990. I didn’t have the thought that some day most everyone would be toting around a phone device of some type.

So, now I’m wondering if this same phenomenon is happening with those e-cigarettes. You know, those funny, colorful devices that people are puffing on and sending out strange looking vapors. They’re vaping. Yes, in time my computer won’t underline that in red, because it will be as common a word as smoking.

Within the last two weeks I have seen people of all ages (18 and over) vaping all over the place. I’ve stopped being shocked by it. In fact, if they must have their nicotine, I’ve reasoned that this is much better than subjecting us to their second hand smoke and littering the highways with their cigarette butts.

Sidebar:  My most hated place for second hand smoke is standing in line to buy my ticket at the movie theater. There is always someone upwind from me having that last one before their 2-hour hiatus inside the multiplex.

Now, before you cast me as one of those judgmental, holier-than-thou non-smokers, I must refer you to a column I wrote in 2010. In it I said: “I’m grateful to be one of the few baby boomers who have never smoked, yet I feel enormous compassion for those who do whether they’re trying to quit or not. Smokers know that they’re killing themselves cell by cell. That they’re contributing to an industry that brings debilitation, death and economic hardship to the poorest people on the planet. That their second hand smoke and discarded butts pollute everything around them. They know this and more, and yet many feel powerless to give them up.” I know that nicotine is among the most addictive drugs on earth. Most older smokers were lured into it before the true consequences of the habit were known.

But back to vaping. If you haven’t already, soon you will see signs reading “No Vaping,” or “Vaping allowed only on the patio.” I’m trying to prepare you for the inevitable.

So, how does it work, and what are the advantages? According to USA Today, “these battery-operated devices don’t contain the myriad harmful chemicals of regular cigarettes, but by heating a nicotine solution into a vapor that users inhale, they still provide the addictiveness of nicotine.”

I decided I had to go to the source and get the story, so I visited Naples Vapor on Cape Coral Parkway which has been there for two months. A nice man named Frank was vaping away, and explained that it costs about $60 to get started. This will buy you a batter, battery charger, liquid tank and 10 milliliters of liquid flavored nicotine. Frank’s store offers about 70 different flavors, the most popular being snickerdoodle and cheesecake torte. Fried peanut butter and banana is gaining on them.

Customer, Courtney, age 29 had been smoking regular cigarettes for 3 years, and decided to try switching to vaping 4 months ago. She enjoys not having her hands, clothes and environment smelling of cigarette smoke. She pays $6.99 for a bottle of the nicotine juice which lasts for 5-7 days. She finds this more economical than the $6.00 she would spend for a pack of Marlboro Lites.

Courtney reports that real cigarettes don’t taste any good to her anymore, and that she has cut down her use markedly because she doesn’t vape in public. She hopes to quit eventually.

The vapor stores all have methods to help smokers taper off their nicotine habit. The nicotine comes in about 6 different levels of concentration, and users can gradually decrease their intake. Frank says that most of his customers tell him that it is their intention to quit.

My friend Norman who owns Volcano Fine Electronic Cigarettes in the Gulf Coast Town Center in Estero underscores this. He says about 80% of his customers want to quit, and he has seen some successes.

Then he threw me a real curve by saying that about 10% of his customers are there to break their hookah habit. Hookah habit? What the…..

You’ll just have to Google that boomers, because thats a whole nother column.

Dangers of Vaping

When her mother announced that she was going to cut down and then quit her lifetime smoking habit, my friend Lindsey was thrilled. A few weeks later, Lindsey’s enthusiasm had shifted to disappointment. You see, her mother had decided to try using electronic cigarettes to kick her nicotine habit. Some advertisers have suggested that this alternative can assist people in quitting by gradually reducing the nicotine content in their e-cigarettes.

As I mentioned in a previous column, I have met vaping store owners and customers who make this claim. If you’re new to this phenomenon, that wasn’t a typo above. Vaping is a word we’re likely to become as familiar with as texting. E-Cigarettes are battery operated devices that heat a liquid vapor allowing users to inhale nicotine from a non-combustible product. Shorthand for using these devices – vaping.

So, Lindsey’s mother bought the starter package for $60.00, chose some flavors, and vowed to begin cutting down her almost pack-a-day habit. Thing is, she loved the variety of flavors and the ability to feed her nicotine habit without people complaining about her second-hand smoke. Lindsey says her mother is now practically surgically attached to her nicotine delivery device. She sees it lots more than she ever saw her mother’s cigarettes.

After my last column, I heard from people who were very concerned about the growing use of e-cigarettes. I knew I needed to know more about them so I contacted the Florida Department of Health and the American Lung Association. Both groups wanted me to know that there is no government oversight of these products. Without Food and Drug Administration (FDA) oversight, they say there is no way for the public health, medical community or consumers to know what chemicals are contained in e-cigarettes or what the short and long term health implications might be.

Then there is the issue of flavoring -- something the FDA forbids in standard cigarettes. All electronic cigarettes are flavored, so to ban flavoring would be to ban the product entirely. Tobacco Free Florida is concerned that, in addition to their possibly harmful effects, e-cigarettes may become a tool used to get youth and young adults hooked on nicotine.

Having said that, I give you 15-year-old Ashley who told me that in her school she sees kids mixing the liquids to create designer flavors like waffles with maple and peanut butter and jelly. She says that the liquids are purchased for the younger kids by older siblings or friends. Here the belief is that they’re not as dangerous as smoking cigarettes.

Then, there’s my co-worker Devon who told me that his 20-year-old friend Natalie wears three of the e-cigarettes on cords around her neck because she loves the variety of flavors. Her favorite being Sweet Tarts. Just when I was ready to close my gaping jaw, he added that all three were brightly colored and bejeweled with rhinestones.

Does this leave any doubt about the appeal that this has to impressionable, status-conscious teens? I’ve learned that the e-cigarettes are available online, at mall kiosks and of course at local retailers. You may have seen some brands being advertised on TV, which tobacco companies have been banned from doing for years.

I want to say here that I have a friend (well, maybe up until now) who owns a vaping store in an upscale mall. Also, I’ve met some other very nice owners, employees and customers while researching this story who claim that the benefits of this new nicotine delivery system outweigh the risks.

It’s been more than two years since the FDA announced that it would regulate e-cigarettes as tobacco products and not as a drug or device. So far, they have not acted, and people are wise to do their own research concerning the chemical content of these products. They are often imported from foreign countries. Believe me when I tell you that some of what I’ve read is scary.

So, what about Lindsey’s mother? Does she still intend to quit? Maybe. Meanwhile, she goes nowhere – not even to the next room – without her e-cigarette.

Our Cars, Ourselves

I’m looking at a commercial for some male enhancement product, and I notice that the boomer-aged guy is driving a vintage Mustang convertible. I immediately forget about the program I was watching and begin wistfully thinking about mustang convertibles.

Like most people of any age, the memory of our first car and the freedom it gave us is indelibly imprinted on our personal history. I think back to the agony of asking to use the family car, and all the specious reasons that I should have it for the night I would lay on my parents. They of course had their own reasons why I needed to spend a night at home, and not put their car and its teenaged contents in jeopardy.

Fortunately, I had an older brother who sympathized with my plight, and agreed to finance my first car. Despite his objections and desire that I buy something sensible, I chose a bronze 1966 Mustang convertible with a custom interior. It was thrilling beyond belief. I would put the top down and drive with the Michigan summer breeze and its aromas surrounding me. I felt like the luckiest, unencumbered girl in the world.

Does any of this trigger a brain synapse and beautiful memory for you? There is nothing like that first time feeling of  “This is my car and I can go anywhere I choose!”

My friend Al, age 57, bought his first car at age 16. He was a self-confessed penny pincher who saved all his allowance and grandparents’ gifts and wages from his after-school job to pay cash for a 1971 Gremlin X. He nostalgically tells me that it was black with gold stripes and was a real beauty. He drove it for 6 years, sold it and lost his love affair with cars for a while. Later in life, when he could afford it, he chose a Lincoln Continental–his lifelong desire for a luxury car. He says he got over it – worrying about it and where to park it etc, and now happily drives a Ford Edge.

After all the mechanical problems with my Mustang, I transitioned to a reasonable Oldsmobile, and then…a 1969 Corvette. Yes, it wasn’t yet out of my blood. After the mechanical torment, the next car was a responsible Buick Regal, which I drove for many years and then…bought my first new car, a 1982 Black Firebird with a hatchback. Oh, I was proud of that car! It was the first one anyone in Detroit had seen.

As my income escalated, I fell under the spell of the foreign car cache. At the time, there was a thing called the European Delivery Program in which one could save lots of money by going to Munich and purchasing a BMW there. Supposedly, this was to generate German tourism as well as sell cars. So, I did it, and bought a beautiful new red 318 I just so I could prove that I could do it I think. I ended up selling it a year later for what I bought it for. Just an adventure I guess.

Next was a beautiful burgundy BMW convertible with a brown top that my significant other purchased for me for my 40^th birthday. It was special, and never left me stranded or got me a speeding ticked in the 18 years I owned it. I was tearful when it was towed away with a worn out engine. I wanted to keep it until I was 60.

So, now my General Motors family is thrilled that I am driving a Buick LeSabre. I confess that this is probably the first time in life that I am comfortable driving a sensible car. Yes, it has 4 doors and has no snob appeal or second looks ever. Thing is, I love it. Those 4 doors and big back seat make my life so convenient. Then, there’s the trunk. It’s the hugest thing I’ve ever seen. Luggage for a 3 month trip would fit in there.

Turns out that to my disappointment, I am not with the boomer crowd here.

According to a new study by TrueCar.com, boomers are driving their dream cars.

The study, which reviewed the purchasing habits of more than 200,000 car buyers, determined that the top brands purchased by Baby Boomers are premium automakers known for high-end appointments, luxury and flashy appeal. First on the list of popular Baby Boomer brands is Mercedes-Benz, which sells 56 percent of its vehicles to Baby Boomers. Mercedes is closely followed by Jaguar and Porsche. Other high-end brands preferred by Baby Boomers include BMW, Lexus and Volvo.

"Many Baby Boomers are experiencing another phase in their life," said Jesse Toprak, TrueCar.com's vice president of trends and analysis. "The nest is empty and because they have reached a heightened income level giving them both time and financial freedom, they chose vehicles that provide them with a luxurious, safe feel and a youthful, sporty drive."

I have found evidence right here that this is …true. My friend Sharon, 63, decided it was time to be good to herself after retiring and receiving an inheritance. She purchased a magnificent, (her words) red Lexus RX400. Her strategy: “I might not look good a few years from now, but my car will.”

Boomers Left Behind

I can’t figure out what happened. For most of our lives we baby boomers ruled. Merchandising catered to us and gave us great toys in the early years. American Bandstand, record companies and clothing manufacturers gave us lots of retail floor space. Then there were all sorts of great yuppie items as we came of age. Our demographic propelled the American marketplace.

I don’t know when or how it happened, but now I feel that we’ve just been pushed off the page. So much of what I see in stores, television and print media is largely youth oriented. I guess it feels like I – or we have been left behind. There are 76.4 million of us. We’re still here and we still have some money to spend, and we want to do work with a purpose.

I’m thinking of my friend Lily. She speaks 5 languages, has a 4-year degree and an amazing professional resume of work in tour directing and urban planning. She can’t find a job. We know that age discrimination is illegal, but so what? There’s no way to overcome a prejudice that an interviewer will have when he/she looks at a 60ish person and makes negative conclusions about them.

There is much documentation that older workers are dependable, ethical and hard working. I can speak for myself and say that I am much more dedicated to my work now than when I was in my twenties. My personal life ruled back then, and work was just a necessary ingredient for my next purchase or trip. Because of this, I try very hard not to be judgmental of the twenty-somethings in my day job workplace. Some of them spend a great percentage of their shift attached to their phones constantly checking texts.

I ask myself if I would have been text addicted when I was young. Back then it was finding a pay phone at my intermediate stops when I was flying. I would keep in touch with everyone that was dear to me by means of my phone card. The charges were pretty large, but absolutely necessary to my lifestyle as I look back on it. So, yes, I probably would have been texting like crazy.

Now, back to my friend Lily. She is struggling to find affordable housing in a place that offers stimulation and like-minded neighbors. I have the feeling that her situation is emblematic of many people in our age range.

According to USA Today, experts say that in some ways, we need to begin remaking America to meet the challenges of future generations. They quote demographer William Frey who says “baby boomers are driving the move to stay in their hometowns and homes – rather than flocking to traditional retirement meccas…as many of their grandparents and parents did.” But evidently, cities and the culture aren’t preparing for the large numbers of us who are going to have free time and some spendable income and wish to remain productive and engaged.

So, Lily who previously lived in the San Francisco Bay area, moved here hoping to find meaningful work and affordable living. She’s been here nearly two years, and has found neither.  So, she could have been in that USA Today article as an example of the array of needs our generation now has.

The article gave us a new term which I’m not sure I’m yet behind – or  “down with” as some younger folks would say. It seems that the Brookings Institution labeled the nation’s fastest-growing percentage of us aged 55-64 as “pre-seniors.”

So, I am a pre-senior, and I guess when I’m eligible for Medicare I will officially be a senior citizen. Man, do I have mixed feelings about that. The need for health care right now is an issue for me and a few more of my boomer friends. We’re looking forward to Medicare and the relief that will bring on one hand – but the label “senior” doesn’t hold the appeal that it did in high school.

So, I’ve decided that for the rest of my life, the only label I will wear – and wear proudly is “Baby Boomer.”

Barbies and Monsters

I had no idea two years ago when I wrote here about my lifetime love of Barbie dolls, that something sinister was brewing. Sure I’d seen signs of it all around me as I read what kids were seeing at the movies and buying in bulk at the bookstore.

Not being around kids much, I have to rely on reading the pop culture media and asking moms and grandmoms what the heck is going on.

So, my mouth dropped open yesterday morning when I heard on NPR that Barbie doll sales were continuously dropping while the sale of Monster High Dolls is skyrocketing. In case you don’t have one of the above mentioned female offspring, here it is. These skinnier than Barbie dolls are patterned after the teen kids of such notables as Frankenstein and Dracula. They have punky scary colored hair and clothes and frankly look to me like the scariest prostitute I wouldn’t want to encounter on a well-lit street.

My knee jerk reaction was boomer-typical I think. “What is to become of these youngsters who dress like a zombied Madonna and play with creepy toys and video games?!”

An article in the News-Press tell me that Barbie’s audience is getting younger (3-6), while the market for the ghoulish dolls is a bit older. According to this article, Monster High dolls have a punk rock look that's intended to send the message that being different is OK. And they're aimed at slightly older children — adding to their appeal — while Barbie's increasingly young audience is hurting sales. After all, no child wants to play with anything seen as a baby toy.

Barbie a baby toy? I can so recall my mother’s reluctance in buying my 10-year-old self this highly advertised icon. “What happened to Tiny Tears and baby dolls?” my mother bemoaned. This doll is more developed than Elaine will be in ten years!

There was to be no negotiation. I wanted Barbie and all the fashions that went with her. Some day I would have a similar body and wardrobe and I was going to be prepared.

Now, I’m wondering if Monster High Dolls had been available back then if I would have wanted them as badly. I think so. Why? Because I was crazy for monster movies. I still can remember every scene from I was a Teenage Werewolf starring Michael Landon in his varsity jacket. Reluctantly, my parents let me stay up late on Saturday nights to watch Christopher Coffin and The Ghoul who hosted local scary monster movies. These came on after the Dick Clark teen specials with Beechnut gum as I recall.

Are monster dolls going to mark the ruin of the wholesome playthings we wish for our little girls? To gain more insight, I knew I had to go right to the source. I called up my 8-year-old grand niece in Clio, Michigan to get her take on all of this. Her parents are very hands-on, but that includes giving their kids hands-on to most every toy that they put on their wish list.

Olivia counted her Barbies, and she has 20 or so that are mostly on display. She has 2 Monster High Dracularas. One was a gift and one she bought with her allowance. She also has 2 Monster High tee shirts that she bought herself. While she doesn’t say that Barbie is passe’ with her friends, she is interested in all the new accessories that accompany the Monster High dolls. Is this great marketing or what?

Yes, it surprised even Mattel who had no idea that this new twist would take off as it did. According to BMO Capital Markets analyst Gerrick Johnson, the brand is worth more than $500 million in annual sales.

So, if my Olivia asked me for a certain Monster High Doll for her birthday in October, could I do it? Gosh, she’s 8. What if she wanted long fingerless gloves or a leather mini skirt? I know this is images they see in so many places. How long can she stay a little girl? And what does that even mean anymore?

Geek Chic in Glasses

In my first job, working at my hometown weekly newspaper, one of my tasks was to write “Back Through The Years.” It was a look at what was newsworthy in our town 5, 10, 15 & 20 years ago. I would open the big musty bound books and search for something I thought was not boring. It wasn’t easy. But, that aside, I never ceased to be shocked by the eyeglasses that people wore in these old pictures. My 16-year-old self would crack up at the rimless spectacles, nerdy horn rims and crazy cat eyes set on peoples’ faces.

I bring this up now because I’m stunned by the most recent trend in frames – huge, dark bug-like spectacles – bigger than even Buddy Holly wore. Boomers, I’m giving you a heads-up here. Before you know it, you will be wearing them too. How do I know this? Because just days after realizing it was a trend, a salesperson at TJ Maxx convinced me that I should buy a pair. Okay, I haven’t worn them in public yet, but I’m practicing at home.

I first saw this trend when Oprah reached for hers during an interview, and I thought she had borrowed them from one of the men on her crew. Then a few days later, my friend Kim hooked me into watching the finals of “The Voice.” Unless you’ve been out of the country, you must have heard about the three finalists: The Swon Brothers, Danielle Bradbery and Michelle Chamuel. Well, Michelle was her authentic self in her mode of dress which included big black glasses. Next thing you knew, judges Shakira and Usher were sporting them too. It was starting to grow on me.

As I usually do, I polled the twenty-somethings who I work with about this phenomenon. Co-worker Kelly immediately cited Nicole Richie and said she wasn’t quite ready for the look. Others were sort of lukewarm on the subject.

So, I dug a little deeper and found some 17 year-olds to get their take. Mason and Brandon immediately mentioned rapper 2 Chainz. (real name Tauheed Epps.) I looked him up on the Internet, and sure enough he sports a multitude of big glasses and sunglasses in the photos I found of him. Brandon and Mason said that the big glasses are indeed coming into vogue among their peers. They were quick to add that for now, it’s mostly the girls who are showing up in them.

So folks geek chic is the thing. When I googled celebrities in big glasses, I found Jennifer Aniston, Tina Fey, Justin Timerlake, Johnny Depp……it just goes on and on. So far, the only boomers I can name are the above mentioned Oprah and Katie Couric. Can Piers Morgan and Scott Pelley be far behind? Gosh, Larry King and Phil Donahue left the airwaves too soon.

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Precious Female Friendships

It’s a small book, and one that I would never have picked up had a female friend not told me that it was a ‘must read.’ “Just trust me on this, you will love it,” my boomer buddy Kim promised. Well, boomers, I apologize for being so sensitive to the title, but I think you will identify with me here. The title is Two Old Women. The author is Velma Wallis, a native Alaskan Athabascan Indian from an isolated place above the Arctic Circle called Fort Yukon.

If I may digress for just a moment, I’ve been to Fort Yukon. It was an optional trip offered when I was tour directing in Alaska. Accessible only by air or off-road vehicle, it is nothing like one would imagine. I was there in the summer, and it was a muddy, rather depressing place with lots of skinny dogs and kids four-wheeling as I recall. The folks there were very friendly, and I do have a fond memory: standing by the Yukon River as this huge waterway carried icebergs rushing by so fast it was hard to even take a picture.

But back to the two old women. It is a story set generations ago as nomadic natives struggled to survive an unbearably cold, sparse winter. This particular band feels compelled to abandon two women aged 75 and 80, as they struggled to find food in an unforgiving frigid land. If you’ve watched some old movies about these peoples, you probably already knew that this was not an uncommon practice. In this novel, the two women decide to try to survive rather than succumb to the cold or the predators.

Calling on all the skills learned from birth, these women embark on an adventure we can barely imagine while forging a bond of friendship they had not previously known. In the long, dark hours they spend in the shelters they build, they tell one another stories and share intimacies from their long lives.

I found myself thinking about what it would be like to spend a year in such close confines with another woman. I’ve discovered that no matter how different another person may seem from me, that if I take the time to have meaningful conversation with them, that we are more alike than different. The human experience often meets in unexpected places.

Here, I’m thinking about conversations I had with women when I volunteered at a shelter for the abused. No matter where we are from, or what our backgrounds may be, women share a bond that goes down to our chromosomes. I believe that I could have a real conversation (one in which both parties actually listen) with most any woman I could encounter. I see this as one of the benefits of getting older and learning from the mixed bag of lifetime experiences I’ve lived through.

One thing I regret is that our generation of females couldn’t have the kind of adventures the boys had in the 1986 movie “Stand By Me.” I watch it every time I see it as I’m channel surfing. I love seeing the bond the boys have as they strike out into the wilderness and encounter numerous obstacles in their quest to find a dead body. Could you imagine doing this with girlfriends? No, slumber parties, watching scary movies, and scavenger hunts was about it for us.

After seeing the 1991 movie “Thelma and Louise,” my friend Sue called me up from Michigan and said that we should take a road trip. She flew down, and we hopped in my little convertible and headed for Key West. Happily, this was long before the cruise ships docked there, and it still had that aura of an isolated tropical small town. We had a few adventures along the way. Nothing too daring. Neither of us owned a handgun, and we didn’t run into anyone quite like Brad Pitt. But for we two boomers, just going where the road and our whims took us, and taking our time, it was exciting.

For me, the best part was the conversation we had on the drive to and from – just letting streams of thought flow with a trusted friend. As the quote goes, “…having to neither weigh thoughts nor measure words.”

I suppose one of the greatest gifts I could imagine is having a friendship such as that -  such as the ‘two old women’ had.

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Response to previous column

As I rather hoped it would, my last column brought a broad range of interesting comments from readers. It’s also generated conversation that has given me much to think about.

My attempt to write a narrative about a little girl and young woman trying to make sense out of what

 little religious rituals she had encountered offended some. Others wrote to tell me how they identified 

with the confusion and contradictions I had experienced. I regret the use of the word “creepy” to

 describe my first encounter with a Catholic mass. If you can imagine a little girl 

about 8 or 9, with limited religious experience going into a huge

 dark Catholic church where a different language was spoken, and 

nothing was familiar or explained to her in advance. People were 

crossing themselves, standing, kneeling, sitting, standing,

 kneeling.....and genuflecting. I had never seen anything like it, 

and didn't know what to do or think. 

What didn’t make it into the paper was that despite earlier prejudices, I have grown into a person who values religious principles and rituals. I consider myself to be “spiritual,” a term that has become a popular expression of belief in something greater than ourselves. I’ve attended more than one church that reflects the deepest part of me.

Turns out that we baby boomers (especially the older set) are returning to our churches,  or finding new ones in great numbers according to Gallup.

Some thoughts from my Catholic readers:

From Deb:

“This Sunday, I have to say, I was mortified as I read your column. I found your take on the Catholic

 Church very upsetting. I was really, really offended  when you called the Church, my church, "creepy"

 I was born and raised Catholic. I understand there have been many horrible atrocities throughout the

 ages perpetrated by the Church, including the current issues with pedophilia. This makes great fodder

 for those who have an axe to grind with Catholics, for whatever reason. What you and others who

 readily bash the Catholic faith don't seem to know is that the Catholic nuns, charities and congregants

 help more people of this world every single day, and do it with anonymity, than any other faith

 worldwide.  Denouncing a particular religion or faith in today's society is a very slippery slope. 

This article tells me you do not know the good and wonderful side of the Catholic faith/Church at all. 

I am sorry for you for that. Catholics believe we will rest in eternal peace. As we Catholics bid one 

another at the end of our "creepy" Mass, "peace be with you". 

From JoAnn:

I was born and raised a Catholic, and I will die a Catholic. Most of my 66 years I went to church and I 

still do. I don’t agree with everything the Catholic Church teaches, but then again, I don’t agree with 

everything other religions teach.  

Some other reader feedback:

From Phyllis:

“Nowadays, I live by the Golden Rule and say my own prayers in my own way and I've never been happier.”

From Jerry:

“What effect do you expect if you never find a religious organization with which you have a real affinity?  I have become very comfortable with my "personal relationship" with God.  I feel no need whatever to join up with a bunch of people who have bought into rules someone else concocted and are hell bent on forcing others to go along with those rules, too.”  

From Rosemary:

“I went to the United Church just down at the corner for my formative years, then married a Lutheran minister, and of the Missouri Synod, the most hard-nosed of the lot, and I thought about it plenty.  During those years and the ones following I've been to college and seen most of the world, so I have formed my own ideas too. As we say at the end of all our Unitarian Universalist service.............I will bow to the Mystery. The thing is – 2 friends of mine of different religions – all of us widows now, when we get together it always, always comes up how blessed we have been in our lives.  Each of us feels we have lived in the best of times and in the best of places.”

Recovering Catholics?

With parents who were raised in fundamentalist churches in the South, my earliest knowledge about religion was confusing and contradictory. You see, my parents abandoned their churches and any discussion of religious principles when they left Mississippi for the North.

There was a church bus which came through our rural Michigan neighborhood and picked up children who were bound for the Methodist church quite a few miles away. I asked if I could join, thinking that it must be something fun if so many kids were going. My parents weren’t enthusiastic, but allowed it.

All I can remember is that there was a Sunday school class after the main prayers which were said by what seemed like old, old men. Also, there were presents when you came for the first and third times to the church.

Well, this made my mother crazy. “Giving gifts for attending church is outrageous!” I heard her complain. To me, it made all kinds of sense. The gifts were real cool, and the only real fun was riding on the bus and seeing kids all dressed up. Oh, and I loved to dress up. Suddenly, I had what other kids called their “Sunday” dress.

My next church experience happened when I spent a Saturday night with my friend Kay, and asked if I could go to Catholic mass with her family on Sunday. Again, my parents relented, and off I went to this very unusual ceremony. It was nothing like those earlier Methodist forays.

Fact is, that Catholic gathering scared the daylights out of me. I already knew that they had some strange habits like having to cover the head, not eating meat on Friday, and wearing a big black blotch on their forehead once a year. It was all very arcane and even scary to me, especially when they seriously told me about the array of sins to be avoided. One of the biggest was missing mass on Sunday. I’ll just finish that story with the truth that that big Catholic church was the creepiest place I had ever been in. I can still remember my mother’s face when I asked her about holy water.

Depending on what article you come across these days, it seems that we baby boomers turned away from our religions of origin largely because of our distrust in institutions. Now statistics are showing that as we age and see the mortality of our parents and others around us, we may be giving organized religion a second chance. To quote 17^th Century philosopher, Pascal, ”There is a god-shaped emptiness in each of us.”

Using myself as an example, I will attest to the above. After my mother’s death in the 90’s, for the first time ever, I began to explore religion, largely to know more about “the other side” as some call it. I also felt a strong desire to be less self-centered, and more like my mother. It was a wish to honor her goodness and generosity even though she rarely spoke of religion.

I do recall her saying “There but for the grace of God go I.” when she would see people in dire situations, or overhear me making fun of someone. I admit that that verse/phrase comes to me at times when I see the victims of recent bombings and the persecution of gays and others outside what we call the norm.

I’ve spent many years trying to overcome my prejudice against the Catholic church. You see, my first husband was Catholic, and even though he never attended mass, the hard and fast rules of married behavior as he saw it were part of the demise of our marriage.

Through the years, I have had many friends and acquaintances who described themselves as “recovering Catholics” because of the ill treatment they experienced from nuns and priests when they were young.

Conversely, I know some folks who find great comfort in attending mass and partaking of the rituals that have brought them peace and a sense of belonging. They feel that the man-made rules and human failings of the church leaders don’t diminish the good that they found in a lifetime of faith.

As for me, this baby boomer is still searching, still researching – and praying daily.

•By the way: A survey conducted by Gallup in 2010 found that people ages 50 to 64 were more likely to say they frequently went to church, temple or mosque than those 18 to 29 did. The figures were 43 percent versus 35 percent, and for the group containing the oldest segment of the baby boom population – 65 and up – the figure was 53 percent.

Storytelling for Posterity

If I asked you to tell me a true story from your life, what comes immediately to your mind? Whatever that story is, you have my permission to share it with your children and grandchildren, no matter how much they would rather look at their IPhone.

I have a quote taped up on my wall where I can see it each time I sit at my computer. It reads, “The future belongs to storytellers.” Sorry that I can’t remember where I read or heard that, but I’m certain it was from a reliable source.

If I didn’t believe it before, I sure do now since seeing National Public Radio personality Ira Glass. He appeared at Barbara Mann Hall last week and simply talked with us for a while and played stories from his popular program, “This American Life.”  I was mesmerized, just as I am when I listen to his show on WGCU, FM 90.1 on Saturday from 1-2 and Sunday from Noon to 1 PM.

Glass says the show got off the ground when he and some others posited that public radio didn’t always have to have the aroma of broccoli – that is, didn’t always have to be elevating ones intellect.

“We sometimes think of our program as a documentary show for people who normally hate documentaries. A public radio show for people who don't necessarily care for public radio.”  Their web page explains.

The stories are about every day people who have encountered unusual circumstances, and they tell their stories with Ira adding his slant and asking the subjects what they think about what has happened. There’s nothing else quite like it.

Take the young doctor who took over for a small town GP who was in prison for murdering his father. Coincidentally, they had the same last name, and the doctor in prison was beloved by his community. This sent his replacement on a quest to find out just what happened to cause this man to snap and commit such a crime. We are taken by the hand through this small town as we meet its residents and accompany the young doctor.  Like every segment I’ve ever heard, I laughed and gasped and shook my head in wonder.

Anyway, all through Glass’s talk at Barbara Mann, I found myself fantasizing about doing what he does. Taking an idea and running with it – seeing where it goes. Or, meeting someone with an interesting story and getting all the details that only the one who experienced it can tell – while I, of course give my input.

Glass was asked if the interview subjects are coached since they are always so engaging. His answer was priceless: “The best stories seem to happen to people who are good storytellers.”

Have you come up with your story yet? While you continue thinking about it, I’ll share one that has been handed down through my mother’s side of the family. It takes place during the Civil War, and my great-grandfather is the 8-year-old star. Word had spread through his small Mississippi farm community that Union soldiers were on their way, and were taking anything they needed or wanted from the defenseless women, children and old men. My great grandfather’s mother told him to take the family’s mule into the deep woods and hide him well. The family would starve without the mule to help them plow their field and plant food. So, the 8-year-old boy did his job very well. So well that no one could find him for 3 days. You see, they had failed to explain to him that he could come home after he hid the mule. So, it took the entire community 3 days to locate the boy and mule after the Yankees had departed.

Obviously, there is no one still alive who can vouch for this story, but I think of it like one of those that is passed down through cultures without a written language. That is how they endure for generations.

So, how about the next time you’re sitting around with your family, you look up from your laptop or Smart Phone and say, “Did I ever tell you folks the story about…….

Farmers Markets

Just about everyone I know plans their Saturday around a trip to the farmer’s market. Not just here in Cape Coral where we have a fabulous one for sure, but all over the country. My friends don’t ask if I’m going to the market on Saturday, they ask me what time I’m going. If I have to miss it for some reason, I give a list to a trusted shopper who knows just which vendors I like.

Aficionados of the market know that it’s much more than picking up produce. It’s a total sensual experience. There are fruits and vegetables in every color of the rainbow. Smells from the fresh flowers and food vendors waft through the throngs of people and their dogs. Yes, dogs. Fortunately, our market is dog friendly, and we get to watch them greet each other and wag and greet us as we stop to pat their heads or join in a petting frenzy. And music. A beautiful background of steel drums or acoustic guitar or songs we love to sing along with fill the air.

My first trip to a farmers market was in the 70’s in my home town of Flint, Michigan. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were fresh eggs and home made pies and all kinds of foods cooking as this market is indoor/outdoor. The flower vendor was a bearded guy with one hooked arm. A bright posie was always in his beard and abroad smile completed the picture.

The market was a must stop when I would visit my mother in the years after I left Michigan. We would buy all the things my daddy used to grow in his garden, and go home and prepare a nostalgic dinner. Growing up with parents from Mississippi, our summer dinner table was resplendent with turnip greens, black eyed peas, fried okra and crooked neck squash, fresh bright yellow sweet corn, with  brilliant red sliced tomatoes and small scallions on the side. My mom’s hot corn bread fresh out of the iron skillet turned upside down on a plate, was a staple.

When I visited a friend in Eugene, Oregon last summer, I discovered a most unique farmers market. Every vendor had organic produce, and all meats and eggs (even those sold in the walk-up restaurants) had to be from family-owned sustainable farms. Everyone seemed so rosy cheeked and healthy in their North Face and Patagonia Saturday clothes.

Yes, it was special, but I have a deep love for my market at Club Square. It has grown from 16 vendors in 1994, to more than 85 currently. Every square inch of the huge lot is filled as the parking spaces become fewer and fewer. Claudia St. Onge of the Cape Coral Chamber of Commerce is the force behind the exponential growth of our wonderful market. She told me that they estimate that there are 5-6 thousand of us passing through every Saturday.

If you’ve been, you’ve noticed that even when there is a long line, or many people vying for a vendor’s attention, that everyone is smiling, patient and polite. Much of the trade is done on the honor system with people rattling off what is in their bag as they fumble with their money as the vendor adds it all up.

It’s about more than filling our refrigerators. I believe these trips also fill our souls. We get a little closer to the earth, to our neighbors and to our communities.

By the way:

•According to the US Dept. of Agriculture, there were 3,137 farmers markets in 2002, and 7,864 by 2012.

•There’s a vendor in the southernmost row who sells passion fruit. If you’ve never tried one, you must! You eat them seeds and all, and they are too delicious to describe.

•In the same row is a vendor who sells fabulous coffee with steamed milk and beignets. Totally worth the calories.

Why did we start smoking?

I have pack of cigarettes called Royals. It’s a flip top box, and half of the front is covered by a bold black and white box that reads “smoking kills.” On the back is a larger box that says “Smoking can cause a slow and painful death.” The pack is from the United Kingdom, and I’ve had it for at least 5 years. Can’t recall who gifted it to me, but I treasure it.

I remember thinking that maybe some day the US would adopt such warning labels. So, it was a big letdown last week when the government caved in to big tobacco, and dropped its fight to ask the Supreme Court to review efforts to block the package changes. As it now stands, the FDA will create some new “less offensive” labels, but we don’t know when.

I’ve been thinking about all of this because of New York Mayor Bloomberg’s latest effort to force his constituents toward better health. Bloomberg proposed legislation on Monday to ban all stores from publicly displaying tobacco products. “Even one new smoker is one too many,” Bloomberg said. You gotta love this guy. Discussing large sodas and cigarettes in the news is so much more fun than say, budgets or urban renewal.

According to Action on Smoking and Health (ASH), a non-profit public health group, “There is strong evidence that when tobacco is out of the sight of children, it is also out of mind. If they don’t see cigarettes, they’re much less likely to take up the habit.”

In this case, I’ll use myself as an example to possibly prove or disprove the above hypothesis. From birth, and yes, in utero, I was subjected to the smoke of my parents’ filterless Camels. I know they would both have walked a mile for them – no question. They were so frugal that we never had paper towels or Kleenex in the house. It was toilet paper or nothing. Yet, two cartons of camels were faithfully purchased every Saturday at the A&P.

As a kid, that was just the way it was in my house with yellowed walls and ashtrays everywhere. When my visiting grandmother asked me if I was going to smoke when I grew up, I promptly replied, “yes.” I thought that’s what grown-ups did. I can still conjure up the taste of the candy cigarettes we would suck on and play with. Guess no one gave that a thought either.

So, my parents had 3 children – two of us are baby boomers, one a bit older. Of the 3, only my middle brother took up the habit. He’s been smoking for 50 years without a break. My older brother began smoking when he was a paratrooper, but quit after a month or two. You see, he was a good money manager, and always had enough at the end of the month for his cigarettes. Not so his platoon mates. They would be broke by mid-month and be bumming from him. He decided not to support his or anyone else’s habit and that was that.

Now, to me. When I was a teenager my mother pleaded with me to never have that first cigarette. “It’s the most addictive drug on earth,” she said, “Once you get it in your bloodstream, you will want it forever; please don’t fall victim to it as I did.” She even suggested other ways that I could be rebellious or feel “cool.” This was just about the time that warnings had been put on cigarette packs (1966), and people were discussing the ill effects to be more than “stunting your growth.” Remember that one?

Well, approval seeker that I was, I was torn. On my senior trip a bunch of us bought cigarette holders in China town and a pack of Virginia Slims to fit into them. We just thought this was the funniest thing, going around our classmates pretending we were Bette Davis.

On my return home, I trashed the cigarette holder, and never smoked again. You see, my dad had just died of a heart attack, and I didn’t want to do anything to upset my bereft mother. So, I was spared the habit, and I am grateful.

I feel enormous compassion for those who do smoke, whether they’re trying to quit or not. Smokers know that they’re killing themselves cell by cell. That they’re contributing to an industry that brings debilitation, death and economic hardship to the poorest people on the planet. That their second hand smoke and discarded butts pollute everything around them. They know this and more, and yet many feel powerless to give them up.

When I see a smoker hiding around a corner trying to be inconspicuous, I always smile and say hello, remembering my mother’s words, and knowing that that’s what she would want me to do.

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From Fear to Compassion to Activism

I was 15 years old, and shopping in a department store with a friend when my heart went up in my throat and my pulse stared racing. I actually felt real fear. “What’s wrong?” my friend Chris asked. “Look at those two guys over there I pointed.” “They’re queers!”

It killed me to write that last sentence, but you see, that was the only word I knew at the time, and I had had no teaching about ‘alternative lifestyles.’ All I knew was that there were two men wearing makeup and stylized hair. I had heard about such individuals, but didn’t know anything more than that they were scary and threatening.

In those years, as most boomers know, sex education didn’t include any information about such things. All we really knew were whispered accounts of a teacher that disappeared following stories that he had inappropriately touched some of the boys. The word queer was bandied about as a perjorative. There was just lots of fear and confusion as I recall.

To my knowledge, there was no one in my school who was openly gay, but the effeminate boys were certainly bullied. It was still okay to be a ‘tomgirl’ back then.

Fast forward to 1978 and my airline career. As soon as I started flying, I met openly gay flight attendants and even one gay pilot. I had a crash course in what their lives were like. The men told me stories about coming from small towns in the Midwest where they were bullied and ostracized. I quickly learned that these guys were not gay by choice, but by birth. One flight attendant that I became close friends with confided in me that he thought he was the only person on earth who was made with feelings for the same sex. My heart ached for what he had endured.

Now fast forward to the mid 90’s. I am working for Barnes and Noble as their community relations manager, planning in-store events. I decided that I wanted to acknowledge Gay Pride Month, and to have some events to promote it. My store manager and district manager gave me a green light. My events included the local gay and lesbian chorus, and a panel discussion with a local gay minister, a gay female disc jockey and a couple from PFLAG, (Parents and friends of lesbians and gays.)

I had come a long way from that day in the department store. My events drew huge crowds – the most I had ever had. In addition to those seated, were people on the fringes pretending to look at books.

We did fear some backlash from the community, but received only two letters of complaint, and more than 40 thanking us for the events. One letter came from a church which later contacted me about doing an event with them. I found the irony most interesting.

The point of all this is to chronicle my evolution from fear to compassion to activism. I strongly believe that we are at a pivotal time in history when acceptance and even embracing all alternative lifestyles is coming into being.

Most of us boomers have lived long enough to have known and maybe even loved a gay person. I know that I have.

I heard a comedian recently joke that we should give gays the right to marry so they could be as miserable as the rest of us. There’s hardly a day that goes by that the gay marriage question is not in the news. To me, it is more about their human rights than it is about marriage. When my gay friends who are couples, tell me about the inheritance laws, health insurance coverage, filing joint tax returns, and even the right to visit their loved one in the hospital when “family only” is the rule, I realize that they don’t have the rights that many of us take for granted.

We boomers have seen sweeping cultural change in our lifetimes. In fact, we’ve been responsible for much of it. Our numbers are many and our voices are strong. With a demographic of 76 million, it’s safe to say that there are millions of us who are gay, whether a lifetime has been spent in the closet or not.

In a short while, the Supreme Court will act on the Defense of Marriage Act and Proposition 8 from California – both of which have been stumbling blocks to gay rights.

For those of us age 46-64, this may mark a new passage in our lives that we could never have envisioned when we were confused, frightened adolescents.

Some Random Thoughts

 

It’s one of those times when there are just too many subjects on my mind to pick one. So, Here are some of my thoughts at large:

•Just when I was feeling more and more sorry for the people that are the outdoor human signs, I noticed that there are now automated signs taking their place. Now I feel sorry for those folks that are being replaced by the robots.

•I know that Billy Fucillo gets mixed reviews. He’s done a great deal for the community while making annoying Kia TV commercials. My only complaint with him really is that he needs to learn how to pronounce Florida. It’s spelled with an O Billy. It’s not Flarida.

•Do you notice that there are some restaurant locations that are just jinxed it seems? I’m thinking of one on 47^th Terrace that has had at least 5 incarnations and is now repainted readying for another. It makes me very sad.

• I know that I watch too much television, so I shouldn’t complain about the commercials. Here’s the thing. Would the stations even be able to stay on the air without the trade school and college commercials? Sometimes there are 3 different ones back to back. Is there anyone out there who doesn’t know about Heritage Institute?

•I hear jokes everywhere about “mom jeans,” but I have no idea what they are. How can I be sure I don’t buy any?

•Is it just me, or do other boomers hate having attractive women labeled “hot?” It just sounds so sleazy to me. I would have never found that a compliment.

•I’ve seen most of the Oscar nominated movies, and can’t wait for the show. There were so many good performances this year, that it’s been hard for me to fill out my ballot. I will say that if you haven’t seen “Beasts of the Southern Wild,” do rent it. The two lead actors are superb and they have no previous acting experience. It’s a most unusually, wonderful movie.

• I was really encouraged when I read in USA Today that the hottest demographic in movie-going was “mature women,” – defined as women ages 30 and older. I want to believe it, but the local cinema offerings sure don’t reflect that. This mature woman doesn’t go for the supernatural.

•So the iron has been replaced by a cat in the Monopoly game. I was happy to hear that people still play board games and care about such high-touch vs high-tech items.

•I love the name for all those ads that come in the snail mail on Monday: paper spam!

• Note to newscasters: The word “absolutely” has been beaten into the ground. It’s second only to “basically.”

•One of my readers wrote to complain about the female sportscasters who he feels are hired as “eye candy.” He finds many of them totally unqualified.

• I’m not qualified to comment on the sportscasters, but as long as we’re continuing the riff on broadcasters, my complaint is with the cocktail wear, plunging necklines, and jewelry that the newswomen feel compelled to wear. I applaud Candy Crowley of CNN for her professionalism and ability to eschew all of that.

•To end on a nostalgic note, one of my readers wrote of her sadness that her grandchildren won’t know the joy she felt of going to the neighborhood roller rink. I suppose they have gone the way of the drive-in movies. She remembers the organ music, the pom poms on her skates and the friends she would make from other schools. Before the consumer craziness of the malls, the roller rink was a place away from the parents and into a parquet world of our own.

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Saturday Mail

I’ve had a box of stationery sitting out now for over a week. My intention is to write a letter to my nephew’s wife in Michigan. She sent me a beautiful 4-page letter with updated family pictures some time ago. It meant the world to me, as my family is so small, and I have no exceptional children or grandchildren – only an exceptional grand niece and grand nephew.

My nephew and his wife work for the postal service, so naturally we correspond my mail, rather than e-mail. So, today when I read about the loss of Saturday mail, I thought about how it would affect them, more than me. I put in a somewhat frantic call to my nephew who was on his rural route in the snowy North.

Like most of us, I wondered why would they continue with package service and not the mail. Aren’t the carriers going out anyway? He cleared that up right away. On this normal day, he had 15-20 packages and 450 houses to call on. So, the theory goes that after doing his route with packages only, there would be time to do 2 or 3 more routes. So, manpower is indeed saved. Why, I asked, are they still doing the packages on Saturday? He didn’t really know for sure, but said it had to do with politics – whatever that means.

He also told me that someone had made the decision to prepay postal employees’ health insurance through retirement to the tune of 11.2 billion. Folks, I haven’t fact-checked that, but I couldn’t help thinking about all the dollars the service spent sponsoring Lance Armstrong’s cycle racing team. Wouldn’t you love to know how these decisions are made?

Did you know that all postal employees are unionized – even some management? There are all kinds of protections for them, but they last only as long as their contract. The current one is in effect for 3 more years.

My nephew and his wife were both honor students in high school, and my nephew, is a bit of a mathematical genius. I was a little disappointed 18 years ago when they announced that they were going the postal route. I asked him in this conversation if he had it to do over again, would he work for the postal service. He said his wife definitely would, as it has worked well with their child-raising and other aspects of life, but he wouldn’t. He regrets not finishing college. He’s just 44, so my thinking is that he could have another whole career since our life spans keep getting longer and longer.

I started thinking about years past when there were so many shootings and horrible incidents that gave rise to the term “going postal.” Remember that? It’s been a while since one of our shootings has taken place within the postal service hasn’t it? I remember talking to them about it back then, and they had some real horror stories about treatment by their superiors. They told me that a real jerk of a boss was replaced by a very nice one, and that after a few weeks he was called in for not giving enough disciplinary write-ups. The theory was that he was probably being too easy on his staff. The truth was that people were happy to work for him and did a better job because they wanted to please him.

So, it’s 10 years and many bosses later, so I asked what percentage of them were miserable to work with. He said about 20-30% of them has been impossible in their 18-year careers. I don’t know if that’s higher than the national average or not. I’m guessing that most twenty-somethings don’t even know what “going postal” means. That’s a good thing.

Now, back to me. How do I feel about losing Saturday service? Even though I seldom see my mail person, I like knowing that there is a real person who handles all that stuff. I have great fear that we will lose the Postal Service in my lifetime. I am in the forefront of the high tech vs high touch culture. I remember reading in Megatrends 2000 that the more high tech we became the more high touch we would crave. Do you suppose that’s why Asian massage parlors seem to be cropping up everywhere like weeds?

Owning a Handgun

I’ve never owned a handgun, but throughout my life, I’ve often thought that I would like to. I grew up around rifles and shotguns, as my dad and brothers were ardent hunters and skeet shooters. The guns were kept in a closet right off the living room, and I remember one instance when my brother confronted a window-peeker/prowler with one of them. It made a big impression as I recall.

Now the same sort of weirdos among us are called stalkers. Which brings me to a story about the sister of a friend of mine. She lived alone and had a fenced yard. Unfortunately there was a weirdo who lived in her neighborhood who would climb over her fence and look in her windows. Police and security systems did not deter him. So, she took classes, did target practice, and bought herself a lovely pink handgun. The next time she saw him climbing over her fence, she fired at the ground in front of his feet and yelled that the next one wouldn’t miss him. After 2 years of fear, it came to an abrupt stop.

So, what about hand guns? We never had them in our house, but when I was in my 30’s and living in Detroit and driving all over the city regularly, people started suggesting that maybe I should buy a gun. I was – and still am – proud of the fact that I lived in and loved a big, dirty, dangerous city, and made the most of what it had to offer. I have only fond memories of my years there, zipping around in my black firebird and feeling so fearless. I know, I know, I was lucky. The worst that ever happened was an attempt to steal my mag wheels. (They were locked, and the dirtball was unsuccessful.)

My three closest female friends all own hand guns and know how to use them. They’ve done the classes and target practice. So, of course I think maybe I should have one too now. Problem is, my significant other it strongly against it, and if I needed to take it out of my car for some reason, I know I couldn’t bring it into the house.

Our generation grew up playing cops and robbers and cowboys and Indians with toy guns, and no one thought a thing of it. A male friend told me that a BB gun under the Christmas tree was every little boys dream in his time. Then of course he graduated to an air rifle or pellet gun. Small animals were not safe anywhere in the 50’s it would seem. Though it’s now politically incorrect to buy toy guns for the younguns, they can shoot and kill anything they want with the video games that are now popular. I would be very interested to hear from readers how they feel about their kids and grandkids playing these games, since I’m out of that loop, having none of my own.

Yesterday I decided to do a little research, and went to a pawn shop in Cape Coral just to see what handguns cost and what I would have to do to own one. A very nice guy named Don showed me their selection and explained what might be the best use of each one. They ranged in price from just under $200 for a .22 caliber to as much as $700 for the more sophisticated.

To purchase one, I would have to first pay for it, and then they would run a background check with the Florida Dept. of Law Enforcement, and after a 3-day waiting period, the weapon would be mine.

Somewhere I had read that this process was more simple in Texas, so I called my gun owner friend Jerry who lives in Lubbock to get the inside story.

Jerry owns 3 handguns, and tells me that he walked into Cabellas and other gun shops, and after an instant background check, walked out with his purchases. The entire process took less than a half hour.

Jerry’s gun ownership is a fairly recent phenomenon. It sprang from the road rage he had observed in his trips to San Antonio. Knowing that most of his fellow Texans were armed, he felt he needed a level playing field. He went the extra mile and took the classes to obtain a concealed weapon permit. He sometimes carries his handgun in a holster under his jacket.

As an aside, Jerry told me that a few days ago while in a gun shop to buy ammunition, he learned that the AR15 semi-automatic rifle has recently tripled in price, and that shop owners had long waiting lists for any new arrivals.

As you can see, my jury is still out on all of this as I try to inform myself about every detail of gun controversy. But, I had WINK news on as I typed that sentence, and learned that an area man will be charged in the accidental death of his toddler who shot himself while playing with a loaded handgun. Coincidence?

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Twilight Zone

 

It was almost sunset and I was on time for a meeting that I was told would be held in a building behind the church. This was the only direction I had been given, and there were lots of buildings. I went to each one, and they were dark, yet there were cars – just no sign of people. Everything was quiet as I stood there in the darkening parking lot. What went through my mind was the opening music of The Twilight Zone. Was I an unwitting actor in an episode?

I’m guessing that this has gone through the mind of most baby boomers at one time or another when they found themselves in confusing or weird situations. The Twilight Zone (1959-1964) played a role for most of us as we were coming of age. It was a must-see for my family, as it was one of the few shows that everybody liked and looked forward to.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the show lately as I watched a TZ marathon on the SYFY channel last week as I was recovering from a miserable virus. I was astonished by the young actors who were then mostly unknowns who later became household names.

Right now you’re probably thinking about your favorite episode aren’t you? And I’ll bet it’s the one where the guy sees the strange being on the wing of the aircraft and can’t convince anyone that he’s out there. Did you know that the young thin actor was William Shatner?

Then there’s the episode where Burgess Meredith is given a stopwatch that stops everything, and his hard nosed boss is the actor who played Sgt. Carter on Gomer Pyle USMC.

Other favorites:  Donna Douglas as the girl who wants the pig face; Billy Mumy as the evil kid who has magic powers and Barry Sullivan, a hobo who finds magic shoes that turn him into a powerful gangster.

I polled some of my readers about the Twilight Zone phenomenon, and Phyllis remembered that she loved it, but it scared her to death. Her husband Wayne said he and his brothers felt real grown up watching it with their parents, but were then afraid to go upstairs to their bedrooms.

Reader Debbie has fond memories of spending the night at her best friend’s house every week so they could watch it together while they washed down their popcorn with Kool-Aid. Debbie says she still gets chills every time she thinks about the opening music.

I’ve never seen a picture of Rod Serling in color. For most of us, he lived forever in black and white in that suit with head slightly tilted, cigarette smoke trailing from his hand. Gosh,he was handsome.

CBS aired 156 episodes of The Twilight Zone, an astonishing 92 of which were written by Serling. In researching this column I learned that he was a prolific writer who won many award for scripts and stories he produced apart from The Twilight Zone. How fortunate we were to have a talent like his shape our young lives. Remember, there was always a moral of some kind in each episode.

Rod Serling died on June 28, 1975, in Rochester, N.Y., of complications arising from a coronary bypass operation. He was just 50.

By the way:

•I did find the meeting eventually with the help of another lost person that night.

•Although the phrase "Submitted for your approval" from Rod Serling's opening narration has come to be closely identified with the show (and is often used by Serling impressionists), it is actually heard in only three episodes.

•Rod Serling thought he had come up with the term "Twilight Zone" on his own (he liked the sound of it), but after the show aired he found out that it is an actual term used by Air Force pilots when crossing the day / night sides above the world.

• The oft-parodied high-pitched guitar melody riff in the theme music was played by Howard A. Roberts.

•While I was writing this column, I had Wheel of Fortune on in the background, and one of the puzzles was The Twilight Zone. Do do do do, do do do do, do do do do

Art Appreciation

“I want to live on an island where no one cares what day the mail boat arrives.” That was the caption of a piece of art that I regifted to a friend who held that philosophy. It was a very cool print of a skiff pulled up onto a tropical shore. When I saw it, I knew exactly to whom it should belong.

I’ve long felt that art serves its best purpose when it evokes something within us that speaks to our dreams, our life experience or perhaps our soul. I once owned an art gallery and have spent lots of time in them through the years, as I was married to an artist. I bring this up because I hope that at least one person reading this column will let go of their fear and actually step inside a gallery after reading this.

Folks who are highly educated in other fields, for some reason often feel intimidated looking at art, especially if a salesperson offers to help them. What’s the standard line? “I don’t know much about art, I just know what I like..” Well, I’m here to tell you that that’s good enough. Each piece of art in your surroundings really should be there because you like it. Something the artist put into that piece resonates with you. That makes an artist happy.

I have known many artists, and most of them create what their heart calls them to make. Don’t be afraid to ask them about the work. If they can, they will tell you what their inspiration was. Also, chances are, that helpful salesperson in the gallery knows interesting facts about the piece or the artist that will give it more meaning to you and perhaps open your eyes even wider to its beauty. Trust me on this, you don’t have to be wealthy, or knowledgeable or even a real buyer to browse in an art gallery. The owners don’t mind if you don’t buy anything. They know that if they make you feel comfortable, when you are in a buying mode, they will likely get your business.

When I think of memorable moments I have had with art, they are with the famous and not as famous. Standing in the Museum of Modern Art in New York and looking at VanGogh’s Starry Night moved me to tears. I had seen it so many times in print, that to actually walk right up to something that had touched his hand seemed almost surreal.

I have a small collection of what is known as intuitive art. That is, work that is done by artists with no formal training. I love the concept of people who create art simply for the joy of it, and often because something inside them drives them to do it – they can’t keep it inside. I happened on just such a piece at a restaurant in Lakeland which displayed art for sale. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Turns out, it was done by a seriously mentally handicapped person who was in an art program in his facility.

Each piece of art has a back story, and once you own it, it now has another story which is uniquely yours. So, the next time you want to peek inside a store or gallery, don’t let intimidation stop you. Walk in and let your eyes be opened in new and interesting ways.

By the way: Somewhere in a class I took, I was told what the five most famous American paintings are. Before I list them, what comes to mind for you? Anyway, they are:

•American Gothic by Grant Wood
•Nighthawks by Edward Hopper
•Christina’s World by Andrew Wyeth
• Arrangement in Grey and Black (Whistler’s Mother) by James Whistler
• Portrait of George Washington – I’m not sure by whom