Fifty is the new 40, except when …

The idea that 50 is the new 40 was probably first spoken by someone like me who refuses to accept stereotypical aging restrictions. Most 50-somethings I know do not look, act or feel like those who were 50 when we were 30.

The problem with believing that I’m 10 or 15 years younger than I really am is that I sometimes forget that at least one aspect of being 50 lingers: the body can’t take punishment like it used to.

I’m in pretty good shape. I use a treadmill and weights several days during a typical week. Sometimes, however, schedules and commitments get in the way of life, and last week was one of those weeks. Actually, I missed my workouts for two weeks. When I started up again last Wednesday, I picked up where I left off, using the same amount of weights and repetitions as I had during my previous workout.

What a mistake.

I woke up with some muscle discomfort on Thursday, but walked around a museum for two hours anyway. Another mistake. I woke up in pain on Friday. Long story short, the muscles through my entire left leg hurt and I could hardly walk. I had done too much too soon, like a 35-year old, and I must have twisted something.

The weather was beautiful on Saturday, but I stayed home, still in pain. Today is Sunday and I am only limping a little. I feel so much better. Maybe I'll jump on the treadmill.

Maybe not. I don’t want 50 to be the new 80.

Objects Are Smaller Than They Appear On TV

As I stood next to the Space Shuttle, I was amazed at how much smaller it was than I had imagined. It is definitely a large object, but not as large as the airliner that took me to Atlanta a few months ago. The Concorde I walked past, however, was larger than I thought it would be; although its windows were very small.

I just returned from my first visit to the Smithsonian’s relatively new addition, the Air & Space Museum’s Udvar-Hazy Center. This gigantic airplane hanger next to Dulles Airport houses every size flying machine from a hang glider to the Concorde. A visitor can get close enough to the Shuttle Enterprise to see the infamous tiles but no one is allowed inside this or any of the other aircraft. For a flight geek like me, gawking is still a thrill.

The big names of the aircraft industry are well-represented here, with some of their largest products on display. There is a Boeing 307 Stratoliner, a 367-80 (a prototype of the 707) and their most famous plane, a B-29 called the Enola Gay (the plane that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima).

One of the longest planes I’ve ever seen is here, the Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird, the fastest jet in the world. The placard says this plane set a speed record of more than 2100 mph on its last flight. It flew from Los Angeles to Washington DC in 1 hour and 5 minutes. I live less than 50 miles from DC and I can’t even drive there in 65 minutes.

Another size surprise was the Gemini VII space capsule. How did two men fit into that thing? Gemini VII was a 14-day orbital flight in 1965 during which astronauts Frank Borman and James A. Lovell tested the effects of weightlessness on humans in preparation for the eventual moon flights. For two weeks, these guys sat in seats similar in size and shape to that of a Porsche. In fact, the whole capsule is smaller than a VW Jetta. I suspect they tested the effects of claustrophobia too. This spacecraft used to hang from the ceiling in the original Air & Space Museum building in downtown DC. Now it sits on the floor at the Udvar-Hazy Center. The reality of its size is more obvious when you can stand five feet from the capsule and look through the windows at the seats.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I like the hardware of flight, from the Wright Flyer to the Space Shuttle. Both of the Smithsonian Air & Space Museums are jam packed with the right stuff.

Working 80 To Take Off 80

I’m in the middle of a two-week vacation. Yes, my friends, I take two weeks IN A ROW. This is only the 3rd time in my 30-year career that I’ve made this bold move.

Boomers have become so work-obsessed that we often don’t know how to disconnect from work. Every year there are stories about how much vacation time many Europeans take each year and how little Americans take. I have worked at my company for many years and have a good contract, so I am very lucky in that I can take a total of four weeks. I used to spread the weeks around the year, never daring to take 2 weeks in a row. Many Americans do not use all of their vacation days each year, even the vast majority who are promised only two weeks.

You probably know the problem with taking just one week. By the Friday before you start, you’ve worked all the hours you’re taking off in addition to your regular hours, just to cover everything that needs to be done while you’re away. That means you’ve already defeated the main purpose of taking vacation, which is to not have to work those hours. Through that first weekend, you’re still thinking about work, wondering if you got everything done and left enough instructions to co-workers who are covering for you. By Tuesday, you finally begin to relax and maybe you get all the way through lunch before you think about the office. Wednesday comes and you finally feel that you are truly on vacation.

Hooray for Thursday! Unless, of course, you get a call from work on the cell phone, while standing at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon trying to take in the most breathtaking sight you’ve ever seen (or while standing in your backyard repairing a fence post because one week wasn’t long enough to take a relaxing trip to the Grand Canyon so you stayed home to putter around the house).

Friday comes and you start to think about returning to work on Monday.

Here is the scenario for a two-week vacation: the first week is just like I described it above, except for Friday. That is the day you realize that when Monday comes, you’ll only be halfway through your vacation. You can calmly lean against the fence and contemplate the view from the El Tovar or the back of your yard. You’ve got another whole week!!!!

In my case, today is that Friday. I probably worked an extra two weeks of hours before my vacation began so everything would be covered while away. I brought one lingering writing project home and worked on it a few minutes at a time through this week between home projects, day trips and July 4th fireworks shows. But today is the Friday at the end of Week One, that work project is behind me, the cell phone is silent and I have ANOTHER WEEK OFF!

This is the part that made the advance work worth it. Next week will consist of more day trips, some do-it-yourself stuff at home, and almost nothing relating to work. Next Friday I’ll start thinking about returning to work, but I’ll be relaxed, refreshed and ready to dive in again. I’ll be more valuable to my employer, but more important than that, I’ll be more valuable to ME.

Revised hits of the 60'S and 70s

I usually resist going along with the stereotypical humor of aging ... except, of course, when it’s funny.

My sister sent me this list. It appears that some of the artists of the 60s and 70s are revising their hits with new lyrics to accommodate aging baby boomers. (Not really, but read on anyway).

1. Herman's Hermits--- Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Walker.

2. The Bee Gees--- How Can You Mend a Broken Hip

3. Bobby Darin--- Splish, Splash, I Was Havin' a Flash.

4. Ringo Starr--- I Get By With a Little Help From Depends.

5. Roberta Flack--- The First Time Ever I Forgot Your Face.

6. Johnny Nash--- I Can't See Clearly Now.

7. Paul Simon--- Fifty Ways to Lose Your Liver .

8. The Commodores--- Once, Twice, Three Times to the Bathroom.

9. Marvin Gaye--- I Heard It Through the Grape Nuts.

10. Procol Harem--- A Whiter Shade of Hair.

11. Leo Sayer--- You Make Me Feel Like Napping.

12. The Temptations--- Papa's Got a Kidney Stone.

13. Abba--- Denture Queen.

14. Tony Orlando--- Knock 3 Times On The Ceiling If You Hear Me Fall.

15. Helen Reddy--- I Am Woman, Hear Me Snore

16. Willie Nelson--- On the Commode Again

17. Leslie Gore--- It's My Procedure and I'll Cry If I Want To.

Gen-Xers who read this ... don't feel bad if you don't know some of the original titles. I'm certain someone will do this to 80s and 90s song titles one day.

Small Town America and the 4th of July

“My Town” is a song by country music duo Montgomery Gentry that celebrates small town life in America. Their town is in the middle of Kentucky (Lebanon, population 5700). My small town (pop. 3500) is 50 miles from the Capital of the Free World.

As I watched an Independence Day fireworks show from a park in my town Saturday night, I thought of the lyrics in their song.

There's a "For Sale" sign on a big old rusty tractor.
You can't miss it, it's the first thing that you see.
Just up the road, a pale-blue water tower,
With "I Love Jenny" painted in bright green.
Hey, that's my Uncle Bill, there by the courthouse.
He'll be lowerin' the flag when the sun goes down.
And this is my town.

(Na, na, na, na, na.)
Yeah, this is my town.
(Na, na, na, na, na.)
Hey!
Where I was born, where I was raised.
Where I keep all my yesterdays.
Where I ran off 'cos I got mad,
An' it came to blows with my old man.
Where I came back to settle down,
It's where they'll put me in the ground:
This is my town.
(Na, na, na, na, na.)
Yeah, this is my town.
(Na, na, na, na, na.)
My town.

The story continues from there with images of a closed mill, a diner, and the crowds at church on Sunday. Life goes on, the kids grow up and have babies of their own. The storyteller buys the rusty tractor, paints it and proudly shows it off in his front yard. Even if you don’t like country music or small towns, you can picture the scene and recognize it as a part of the mosaic of lifestyles we celebrate every year on the 4th of July.

The Washington DC suburbs are slowly beginning to invade my small town, but the mentality here is still more rural than urban. Many of the families in the park last night are the children or grandchildren of farmers. The crowd in the park numbers in the hundreds rather than the tens of thousands who will witness the rockets’ red glare on the Mall in DC Tuesday night, but they are no less enthusiastic as they watch the modest fireworks show.

Even though I’ve been a city/suburb kid all my life, I have grown to enjoy small town Independence Day celebrations with their red, white and blue saturation of the senses. This one featured the sound of a local country-rock band, the scent of barbeque, the taste of home-made ice cream. The grand finale, of course, is the fireworks show. The rockets’ red glare. It doesn’t get more all-American than this.

I’m relatively private in how I show my patriotism. For me, soaking in a small town 4th of July connects me with those things that make me proud to be an American.

Faith, Janis and Camera Phones

I went to the Faith Hill-Tim McGraw concert the other night at the Verizon Center in DC. Boomers who are country music fans probably know that one of Faith’s early hits (in 1994) was a remake of Janis Joplin’s 1968 hit “Piece Of My Heart.” At the time she recorded the song, Faith had never heard the original, and she did it as an up tempo kick-ass country song.

Both versions are great, but my preference leans slightly toward the original slower tempo blues-rock one. I was pleasantly surprised – shocked, actually - to hear Faith sing the song that way during the concert. Slow and bluesie. However, she did not attempt to reach that soaring high note like in the Janis version.

The concert was good, by the way, but at times I thought the elaborate staging overwhelmed the performance. I saw both Tim and Faith in their early years, in a smaller venue with less stage pretension, and thought those shows were more appealing.

The biggest and most amusing surprise that night wasn’t musical, however. At one point, as Tim walked out on one of the stage ramps to get closer to the audience, I noticed something I had never seen at a concert before … several HUNDRED cell phone screens glowing in the dark. Camera phones, to be more precise. “Oh look, he’s coming over here. Let’s get a picture!” This probably happens all the time, but that is the first time I observed this phenomenon.

Back when I was listening to Janis sing “Piece Of My Heart” I could not have even imagined that one day I could take a telephone out of my pocket and snap a photo with it.

Silly But Revealing

Sometimes these surveys/games are annoying and sometimes they reveal much about the person who plays along. This list is inspired by one written by a teenager; I found a rewrite on a Gen-Xer friend’s blog and rewrote part of it for Boomers and Gen-Xers.

First, the instructions, if you want to do it: Copy and paste the whole list, then remove the number of each item you have not done (but leave the item). Renumber it and add up your list. Add comments along the way. If you post this on a blog, let me know (in my Comments section). Here are mine:

I Have Done 100 of These 100 Things

[1] I have read a lot of books.
[2] I have run a 10k race.
[3] I have been to Canada.
[4] I have been to Mexico.
[5] I watched every episode of an entire multi-year TV series (NYPD Blue).
[6] I have fallen down an entire flight of stairs.
[7] I have played trombone in a band, in public.
[8] I have played bass guitar.
[9] I have played saxophone (in front of a music teacher, but not in public).
[10] I’ve been married more than once.
[11] I have been on a whale watch.
[12] I have seen a spectacular Independence Day fireworks show (launched within a mile of where the Star Spangled Banner was written).
[13] I have seen a meteor shower.
[14] I have almost drowned.
[15] I have listened to one CD over and over and over again.
[16] I have had stitches.
[17] I have dislocated my shoulder (more than once).
[18] I have seen a sunset and a moonrise from the same spot on the same evening (at the Grand Canyon).
[19] I have been to the top of lighthouse (two, actually, twice each).
[20] I’ve been in a hurricane.
[21] I have worked a reverse 9 to 5 job … 9 PM to 5 AM.
[22] I have been married more than once.
[23] I have been in a hot air balloon race.
[24] I have fallen flat on my face.
[25] I have tripped over my own two feet.
[26] I have been a passenger in a helicopter.
[27] I've been/am in love.
[28] I have visited more than half of the 50 U.S. states.
[29] I have been in the real West Wing.
[30] I have friends who live more than 2000 miles from where I live.
[31] I have already had my 42nd birthday.
[32] I've called someone stupid.
[33] I've been in a verbal argument.
[34] I've cried in public.
[35] I have friends who have survived breast cancer (so far).
[36] I've narrated an event in front of a large crowd (40,000 spectators in a stadium).
[37] I've been completely alone on a beach.
[38] I’ve been in a car accident while driving someone else’s car.
[39] I've been swimming in the Atlantic Ocean.
[40] I've been swimming in the Gulf of Mexico (in the US and in Mexico).
[41] I’ve won more than I’ve lost playing the slots in Vegas.
[42] I've called myself an idiot.
[43] I've called someone else an idiot.
[44] I've taken a day off from work just so I don't go insane.
[45] I've had/have pets.
[46] I've owned a Madonna CD.
[47] I've owned a Neil Diamond CD (stop laughing!).
[48] I've asked a celebrity to say something they are famous for saying (James Earl Jones “Luke, you are my son” in his Darth Vader voice while recording him on the phone … instead he said “THIS … is CNN”).
[49] I've owned a black and white TV.
[50] I've interviewed an astronaut (actually a Mission Specialist in the Shuttle program)
[51] I've had a conversation with a Mayor.
[52] I've had a conversation with a Senator.
[53] I have sworn/yelled at someone of authority.
[54] I've been in the newspaper.
[55] I've been on TV.
[56] I've been homesick.
[57] I've owned more than 10 vehicles.
[58] I’ve owned a car that didn’t even have seat belts.
[59] I've met members of the Gilligan’s Island cast.
[60] I’ve seen cast members from Happy Days in their underwear (in the locker room before a celebrity baseball game – what did you think I meant?).
[61] I've watched the Smurfs (as an adult).
[62] I've been fired from a job.
[63] I've been called a geek.
[64] I've been backstabbed by someone I thought was a friend.
[65] I've lied to someone to their face.
[66] I've hugged someone I hardly knew.
[67] I've engaged in other related activity with someone I hardly knew.
[68] I've met a few celebrities/music artists.
[69] I've written poetry.
[70] I've been fingerprinted at a police station.
[71] I've been attracted to someone much older than me.
[72] I've been attracted to someone much younger than me.
[73] I have siblings.
[74] I've listened to country music and enjoyed it.
[75] I've listened to classical music and enjoyed it.
[76] I've been in a play.
[77] I've been picked last in gym class.
[78] I've served in the military.
[79] I've been an altar boy and a choir boy.
[80] I’ve been in a spelling bee.
[81] I've studied languages other than English (but never really learned to speak any of them).
[82] I've had a verbal fight with someone face-to-face.
[83] I've had serious conversations via IM.
[84] I've forgiven someone who has done something wrong to me.
[85] I've been forgiven.
[86] I've spoken my mind in public.
[87] I've proven someone wrong.
[88] I've been proven wrong by someone.
[89] I've seen someone die.
[90] I've screamed at the top of my lungs.
[91] I've been completely drenched in a storm.
[92] I've been so close to a lightning strike that my armhair stood up.
[93] I've lived at more than 20 addresses.
[94] I've driven on the beach and got stuck.
[95] I've sold Christmas trees at a department store (Sears).
[96] I've wanted to be an actor at some point.
[97] I've taken something/someone for granted.
[98] I've made fun of someone.
[99] I've realized how good my life is.
[100] I've counted my blessings.

Father's Day

An entire week remains before Father’s Day, but the advertising is already driving me crazy.

My Dad died nearly five years ago, but I still cringe when I see the ads suggesting this or that product to buy Dad for his day. The same thing happened in May for Mother’s Day. Mom died less than a year ago, so that one hit me even harder. But Father’s Day advertising seems more aggressive.

I wonder if boomers are prepared for stuff like this. I wasn’t. My parents were great role models for things like parenting or saving money, but not for dealing with the death of a parent. I was a kid when three of my four grandparents died, so I barely remember my parents’ reaction to the deaths of their parents. I also don’t recall their emotional state for the next few years following those deaths.

Grief doesn’t go away. We can get used to the loss of a loved one, and over time some of the sadness is reduced. We find a place in our head and heart, and the feeling sort themselves out.

My Dad and I weren’t especially close, but during his last few years and the years since his death, I have grown to appreciate him and what he taught me. I regularly have Dad moments: I’ll be working on some carpentry or yard project and I do something just like he would have done it. Then I realize that is what I am doing.

I was at his side when he died and I watched him take his last breath. Over time my feelings did sort themselves out, and I no longer get that emotional when I think of him. Except around Father’s Day.

More Ad Music

Add these songs to my growing list of tunes used in TV ads, apparently to endear boomers to their products. Does this concept work for you? I find it amusing, but I’m not sure it hooks me up with the products.

“Magic Carpet Ride” plays in a commercial for Wendy’s. Thankfully it isn’t Steppenwolf doing the singing. I’ve always liked that song from 1968 and I’ve liked Wendy’s since my first visit in the 1980s. I don’t see the connection.

By the way, as I searched the Steppenwolf web site looking for song details, I learned I was visitor number 2,038,577 since 1996.

I also tried to determine who sings the version of “Magic Carpet Ride” used in the commercial. I found several websites, discussion groups and blogs seeking the same information. One person contacted the advertising agency for Wendy’s and they won’t say.

Foghat’s 1978 hit “Slow Ride” plays in a Honda minivan commercial. WHAT??? Hard rock = a minivan? That is almost as weird as Zeppelin in those Cadillac ads. And slow ride implies this minivan is underpowered. Am I missing something here?

This one is a bit more obscure. The VFW National Home ran some commercials on Memorial Day using “Can’t You See,” a 1973 song from southern rockers The Marshall Tucker Band. The song had no lyric connection to the organization. They used that flute-guitar combination at the beginning of the song, which set the perfect mood for their message and easily reaches out to mid-boomers and hauls them/us back to the Vietnam era. I guess that’s the point.

Tonight I saw a Pier 1 commercial with the 1969 Isley Brothers song “It’s Your Thing.” I guess they think the title line makes for a good slogan. Do you think they heard the rest of the song?

CHORUS
It's your thing, do what you wanna do. I can't tell you, who to sock it to.
VERSE 1
If you want me to love you, maybe I will. Believe me woman, it ain't no big deal. You need love now, just as bad as I do. Make's me no difference now, who you give your thing to.

Wow, what a perfect song for a company that sells chairs, pillows, dishes and candle holders.

Teachers Rock

My circle of current friends I’ve known 25 years or more numbers only five. Two of them are teachers, which I consider a high percentage and a significant number. Family members of boomer age who are teachers include a cousin and my sister. My first wife was a teacher.

I believe that one of the biggest dreams of a teacher is to make a difference in a child’s life. Yet how often does that happen? How often do we remember our teachers? Did any teacher make a difference in our lives?

I have more to say about that later, but in this post I want to share part of an email from a teacher friend. She has been teaching for almost 30 years and often wonders whether or not it is worth the effort of having to deal with the day-to-day bullshit of faculty politics, out-of-touch school board policy and parents who just don’t get it.

Then she has an experience like this:

I survived another school year that ended with an unexpected surprise. A call from the office said I had visitors … one of my 8th grade girls and her mom with a very personalized gift basket. The contents were specific to things Olivia remembered during her 3 yrs with me: chocolate (all my jokes about losing my memories when I'm "old" and visiting me in "the home" with chocolate even though I won't remember them or that I like chocolate) with the sincere promise to visit me monthly in "the home" ; a Hot Wheels miniature of a Mustang with the wish that it could be a life-size one for my "love of speed and Mustangs"; a misting fan for all my hot flashes when the AC is insufficient; Motrin to help me through the headaches for the next two years with my sixth graders; a pack of Sharpies in multi-colors so I can help "the next group pass with flying colors".

As I walked Olivia and her mom to the office with gratitude all the way for her raising such a wonderful child, mom told me there was also a gift certificate in the basket. When I returned to the room, I was blasted away to find a $100 certificate to the Mall. Mom told me that the only reason Olivia has remained at this school is because of ME! I teased her and said, "Please put that in writing!"

But the best was waiting for me when I got home Friday evening: A card with a letter tucked inside from Olivia. She told me how I helped change her life, how I was her favorite teacher, how much they always enjoyed my stories and appreciated how I shared my life and stories of my sons with them. But then she wrote me that I had been one of the biggest impacts on her life; how much she had learned from me, how she found herself in my class, and how I did what all teachers dream of: I made a difference in her life. I taught her more than academics, but about character too. I was one of the few people who actually wanted their opinions and made them unafraid to express them; that I respected and cared for them, and that I really don't know how much I have done for her.

She's right: I didn't know what an effect I'd had on her. I just knew that she is a fine young lady who will do whatever she dreams of because she has always had the fortitude to persevere while remaining calm and caring and a good influence on me. I could always count on her to help me through a bad day!

Needless to say, I will remember this to my grave.

How may of us can say we have made that kind of impression on someone as part of doing our job? Teachers are among the lowest-paid professionals in the country; yet what teachers do, or can do, ranks at the top when it comes to the importance of their profession and the impact they have on our lives.

Shouldn’t our teachers be paid like doctors? Maybe boomers can add this to our legacy.

The Air Show at Andrews

The Jet Age, the Space Age and the Boomer Age are almost one and the same. Jet bombers and jet airliners came of age in the 50s and 60s, space flight in the 60s and 70s and all forms of flight have been refined through the 80s, 90s and now in ways that defy imagination.

I have always loved flying devices. As a kid, I flew kites. My love of reading took off with books about Sikorsky helicopters and an autobiographical account of Charles Lindberg’s solo flight across the Atlantic. Dad took us to a public tour of an aircraft carrier once. I was glued to the TV during Gemini and Apollo launches in the 1960s, and watched Armstrong walk on the moon live.

As an adult I have narrated skydiver shows, filled in for an airborne traffic reporter and was a passenger in a hot air balloon race. I interviewed a Shuttle astronaut on the radio in the 90s. I have visited the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum eight or ten times and the first IMAX film I saw was “To Fly.”

In December, 2003 I went to the First Flight Centennial Celebration in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina and felt like a kid in a candy store as I climbed on and photographed planes from every era of powered flight.

Today, after hearing about this annual event for more than a decade, I finally went to the Joint Service Open House at Andrews Air Force base near Washington DC.

Wow!

Big planes, little planes, old planes, new planes.


A former Air Force One, a medical helicopter from the Viet Nam era, a DC-3, giant cargo planes, Homeland Security planes, a stealth bomber. I climbed aboard some, photographed others.



During my four-hour visit, there were non-stop aerial displays featuring everything from bi-planes to F16s to the Golden Knights parachute unit to rescue helicopters.



Many people in my half of the boomer age range have a love-hate attitude about the military. I protested the Viet Nam War but also served in the Army near the end of the conflict, stationed safely in Texas. At the time my feeling was mostly hatred toward anything military.

During the decades since, my attitude has change to one of understanding and respect. The men and women who serve in the armed forces believe in their missions and I appreciate that they put their lives on the line to protect our freedoms. I disagree with the Iraq war but I fully support the individual servicemen and women who are fighting there.

This event is a powerful example of how proud military people are of their mission and their tools. All service branches were represented there, but I mostly went for the planes.

Thinking About Mom Again

This is probably the most personal thing I’ll ever post here and I understand if you choose not to read it.

Death is part of life. Facing the death of a loved one, or even our own death, is not unique to boomers, but we are at an age where this piece of reality stares back more often. Death is a bigger part of our lives than when we were younger. Obviously.

I had the best mother a son could ever want, and I don’t think I realized it till the last few years of her life. I left my hometown more than 25 years ago and my entire contact with Mom over that period was phone calls on holidays, 5 or 6 letters a year, a similar number of visits home, and messages back and forth via my sister.

Mom was a bit judgmental and didn’t approve of or understand many of my life choices. Yet she tried hard to accept things just because I was her son.

I’ve lived in five cities since leaving New Orleans and she marveled over each of my relocations. She found a way to visit me in three of those places and regularly asked about life in each.

My serial marrying was a disappointment to her (my quote for nine years has been: “third time’s a charm” or “three strikes, you’re out”). I don’t know how to spell that Cajun French half-grunt, half-snort word she uttered upon hearing of each breakup. Yet each time I would marry again, she wanted to meet my wife. She would ask about her and expected updates.

Mom lived her last five years in a nursing home. We had little choice. She hated every minute but grew to understand the lack of options. She made it clear how grateful she was for visits from family and friends. Her brain power was decent till the last year, and my best last memory of her was the 94th birthday party we gave her. My worst last memory was 8 months later when she didn’t know who I was.

The thought of what she went through during her last 4 days makes me ill. The nursing home did not evacuate till after Hurricane Katrina had passed. The idiots who staffed that place realized the electricity wasn’t coming back on and four inches of water IN the place wasn’t such a good thing. First they moved across the street to a hospital, then across the state to another nursing home. She survived the storm and the evacuation but died the next day. Her death could have happened that day with or without Katrina, but that doesn’t give me any comfort.

Six week later we were finally able to give her the kind of funeral she would have wanted, in a church with family and friends. One of our favorite pictures of her was placed on the casket and the three of her paintings that survived the storm were displayed in the lobby.

I talk for a living, yet delivering that eulogy was the most difficult 3-minute speech I’ve ever delivered. Here is what I said:


When we met with Father Ralph a few days ago, he pointed us in a wonderful direction for today. He said this should be a celebration of Mom’s life.

Ann Marie and I are so lucky to have had her as our mother, and there are so many things we could say about her. But in my mind, four things stand out above the rest:

1) She had a great sense of humor. She loved a good laugh. One of Ann Marie’s last memories of her was a few days before Katrina. Mom was sitting there at the nursing home laughing. Ann Marie doesn’t really know what she was laughing at, but she was having a good ole laugh.

2) Mom loved to travel. And with the evacuation to north Louisiana and her return here in this casket, she traveled more during her last three days of life and the weeks since her death than she had traveled in decades. She is probably having a good laugh about that right now.

3) Mom paid me and Ann Marie the greatest compliment a mother could pay a child … many times. She married late in life, especially for her generation, at age 39. She told us many times, including at her 94th birthday party, that her life really didn’t begin till she was in her 40s, when she had us.

4) One of the most important things in life is family. Up until the last year or so, she kept up with what was going on in your lives … the cousins, your kids, your grandkids. The Mary Kay sisters, the red car ... she even got to ride in the red Mary Kay car and she was aware of things that day.

And it means a lot to Ann Marie and I that you are here sharing this day with us.

Mom, we love you.



You made it to the end of this post. Thanks for letting me share this with you. The next post will probably be about cars or television again. See you next time.

M

I’m relatively new to blogging and definitely a meme virgin. I found this term on a blog I just started reading.

Before I get to this meme, I’ll admit I didn’t know how this works. So I did some research and found the following on a site called The Daily Meme.

People often ask, "What is a Meme?" so here's a more than a little information on that. I pronounce it so it's rhymes with dream; some pronounce it so it sounds like mem (from mem-ory).
In the context of web logs / 'blogs / blogging and other kinds of personal web sites it's some kind of list of questions that you saw somewhere else and you decided to answer the questions. Then someone else sees them and does them and so on and so on.
Eventually some people decided they were going to creating weekly questionnaires (memes) and post them every week. Some are monthly, a few are daily and some are always there. Some suggest that you get five other people to do the same meme and they have to get five people (and so on), which sometimes increases their propagation. This probably stunts their mutated growth, having a permanent storage place where people go to find them but many people copy them from the site where they see it and they'll still change a bit.

After reading this, I still don’t really know how it works, but the blog author explained his particular meme … Pick a letter and write ten words that begin with that letter along with an explanation of what that word means to you.

His used the letter P. In response to a Comment I posted on his blog he “assigned” me the letter M. Here is what I came up with.


1. Music
Music is a major part of my entire life … from my 4th grade choir to high school band, from records to cassettes to CDs to a hard drive, from Motown to Mozart to Springsteen to Garth Brooks, from making tapes for a cousin’s wedding reception to playing songs on the radio.

2. Mustang
My favorite car. Especially the first 4 years and the brand new version. I owned one once and hope to own one again one day.

3. Momentum
A philosophy. Pick a goal, make a plan, take the first step, then another and another and another. Build momentum. Reach the goal. Start again.

4. Milwaukee
A very interesting city I lived in for four years. The city of my first drive in the snow, a great summer romance, significant career advancement and my first apartment in a high-rise building.

5. Maryland
My adopted home state, where I have lived, voted, married, divorced, married again, owned three homes and eaten great quantities of steamed crabs. I live less than 60 minutes from a bay, rivers, mountains, valleys, forests and the Nation’s Capital; less than 4 hours from the Atlantic Ocean, Philadelphia and New York City.

6. Maps
I have a hundred or more, new ones, old ones. Maps from AAA, maps from National Geographic. History maps. Mapquest maps.

7. Moonwalk
Not the Michael Jackson dance. Not the sidewalk along the river levee in New Orleans (although that holds some meaning for me also). The Moon walk taken by Neil Armstrong one summer night in 1969. I’ve been a space travel geek since the first Americans launched, and I watched Armstrong on TV as he took that first step and “one giant leap for mankind.”

8. Minolta
The brand of my first 35mm camera. My photography passion began with this camera. I carried it with me everywhere and shot thousands of photos. Eventually traded up to Canon, then Nikon. I still shoot film, but all my Nikon lenses will fit the digital camera I’ll buy some day.

9. Marilyn
My wife. She is one of a kind. Defies description on so many levels.

10. Mom
This past Mother’s Day was my first without her. She was caring, loving, curious, dedicated. Defied the odds of her generation by starting her family in her 40s and living into her 90s. A great story-teller with a great sense of humor. She’s telling her Katrina evacuation story right now, and angels are falling over laughing.

Mustang Charger Camaro

OK, I'm writing about cars again! Here goes:

You can add DaimlerChrysler to the list of automakers marketing to baby boomer nostalgia. Their Dodge brand has re-introduced the Charger nameplate and, like the Mustang, they have designed a car with styling cues that relate to the original muscle car of that name.



Let me point out that this Dodge Charger is a FOUR-DOOR car. Puh-leeez!!


My guess is that they feel today’s boomer buyer is looking for a sport sedan with the feel of the muscle car era. Maybe they think this will compete with a BMW, Acura or their own Mercedes.

My preference is and always was the Mustang (see earlier post). And that was the heart of the muscle car debate back to the late 60s: Mustang vs. Charger vs. Camaro.

One of my favorite movies from the era illustrates the point.


“Bullitt” features an action-packed chase scene between a Mustang Fastback, driven by San Francisco Police Lt. Frank Bullitt (played by Steve McQueen) and a Charger driven by the bad guys.


The chase ends as the Charger careens out of control into a gas station and explodes


A gas station flashback: in 1969, gasoline sold for around 35 cents a gallon. There was no self-serve; TWO guys in uniforms came to your car, one pumped the gas while the other washed the windows. You paid one of them right there, without getting out of your car. Unleaded? What’s that?

Mustangs led the way for muscle car production too. The first models were billed as 1964 ½. Chargers began production in 1966. Chevrolet (always last in my opinion) introduced the Camaro in September, 1966 as a 1967 model. At launch date, General Motors still hadn’t decided on a name … front-runners included Panther, Chaparral, Nova (later used on another Chevrolet) and Wildcat (later used by Buick). At the last possible minute, they chose Camaro.


And yes, they plan to re-introduce the brand. Here is a shot of the concept car version:



Mustang still wins!!

Confidence

One nice aspect of aging is the confidence that often comes with it.

Several years ago I began to notice that I am more comfortable in my own skin than I was in my 30s or early 40s. This became more apparent to me at a recent company conference during which I had great conversations with attendees ranging from beginners in the business to a couple of our corporate Vice Presidents. Some people develop this kind of confidence early in their lives; I didn’t. But I’ve got it now.

This brand of confidence comes without arrogance. I know what I’m doing and it shows, yet I don’t believe I know all there is to know and I’m not afraid to learn new things or new ways to do what I already know how to do. I credit the aging process for this new-found confidence.

I also realized I am less susceptible to peer pressure. Earlier in my career, for example, I tended to follow the crowd. If the “cool” people at a convention stayed up late drinking, I stayed up late drinking. Now, I have one drink, or no drink, and turn in when I’m tired. These conferences provide great networking opportunities and the usual style seems to be a “work the room” technique, in which you meet as many people as possible and hand out a lot of business cards. That doesn’t work for me. My strength is to have extended one-on-one conversations with just a few people. I now have the confidence to chart my own path in these situations.

This personal discovery may seem silly to someone who has always been self-assured, but I suspect I’m not the only boomer who learned self-assurance at this point in life.

Some may call this aging gracefully. I am not very graceful, so I will name this aging confidently.