In my 80s

May 11, 2022

You who have connected now and then with my blog know without anyone telling you — I am verbose, that is, using far more words than necessary and writing far too many blog entries. A polite helper at WordPress told me today that the cause of my recent troubles in posting new entries is the fact I’ve now written 1295 entries. That’s one thousand two hundred and ninety five, quite more than the number of people who have read these blogs.

Why do I blog? Why do people jabber?

OK, so … with the help of two videos WordPress is sending to me I am going to eliminate several hundred blogs, particularly those that I saved on paper . . . as if some soul fifty years from now would spend its evening perusing the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart.

In my 80s

May 6, 2022

Halle Berry is the front-cover feature in the current issue of AARP, The Magazine. It is likely that many (most?) of my readers have seen that attractive cover. Perhaps because my brain’s screen retains a sexually provocative photo of Berry, I flinched when I read “How the Actress Dug Deep to Make Life Right in Her 50s.” I decided to read the article.

I learned much that will surely (I hope) modify that big picture on the screen. I hope it will change me. Here are several statements worth remembering.

“Now, in my 50s I have my babies, my career, and finally have love in a real, meaningful way.”

“Sometimes we know something or see something or feel something and we talk ourselves out of it.”

“All the goodness I have in my life now is … because I started to take control of my life in a different way.”

“Not only have I worked in a shelter for 25 years, but it’s how I grew up as a child, with an alcoholic, violent father … . I knew that I had to go toward the truth and not be afraid of putting this light in these dark places.”

“… my children … they’re watching what I’m doing, and that’s what they remember.”

“Like men, women have a lot of pent-up anger and angst and sadness. I needed a healthy way to get this stuff out of my body.”

“Women get stuck in relationships. We want to make it work; we want to fix it … so we stay stuck for ten years. Then we often jump into a new relationship to heal from the old one, and we’re just rebounding and never taking the time to grow and take care of ourselves.”

“I refuse to become someone who just tries to hold on to a youthful face and not embrace what’s most important — how you live your life, how you give back to others, how you strengthen your mind, body and soul, how you give in a meaningful way of yourself.”

In my 80s

May 4, 2022

Today, according to my daybook, is dentist day. So I go to the dentist.

As I sit in the waiting room a man comes in, old like me but overweight and wearing a grotesque face mask, a crusty old guy of another time and place. The receptionist tells him to have a seat. “May I go to the head?” he asks. Surely, replies the receptionist.

When he returns he sits down across from me but doesn’t look at me. “Sir,” I say, “I like words. When I return home I am going to look up the origin of the word ‘head.'”

“Oh, I can tell you …” and he proceeds to give an articulate accounting of the construction of ships in the royal navy in which the lavatories (toilets) were placed near the front of the ship.” This privileged moment of idiom appreciation sets him off to explain “a baker’s dozen,” “six in one hand and a half dozen in the other,” “the john” and other idioms and expressions.

The hygienist comes to the door and calls me to her chair. I know her. I know her advantage when my mouth is dentally locked. She wonders what I’ve been doing and I manage to grunt “gardening.” As if on cue, she begins telling me of her garden, particularly the purple flowers on the sunny side of her house. In this oration, I hear names such as anemone, verbena, fuchsia, candytuft, wisteria, columbine, cat mint, hyacinth and ends with “Do you want peppermint for the brushing.”

Next is the dentist who is able to build verbal castles on the sand of a patient’s grunt. On this occasion — I don’t know how it begins — he tells of the Facebook entries in the neighborhood grouping to which he belongs: the women who heard three shots, the person who saw three cop cars parked together, the lost dogs, the garbage that was picked up a day late and much more.

My card is credited for $155.00.

In my 80s

May 3, 2022

Beginning in January I have compiled Tuesday Times for my six grandchildren. This in-house publication includes accounts from family history, photos from yesteryear and today, but as of this date, no editorials or op eds.

By this time — more than a dozen issues later, the “paper” features their reports and photos also.

— the remodeling of a bedroom
— art work
— work portfolios
— travels
— a poem
— an essay
–their photographs

I do not know whether my readers share Tuesday Times with their parents.

Currently the greatest threat to the survival of Tuesday Times is my own diminishing competency in using the computer. I forget what seem to me complicated steps from the compiling of the 3, 4 or 5 pages to seeing it off safely through Google Drive. Today I received a request to send it to a granddaughter at her school address. How does one do that?

No, we do not accept subscriptions