19 Monday Jan 2015
Posted in Concepts
His eyes reflected compassion, kindness, fearlessness and brilliance.
Martin Luther King Jr. would have turned 86 this past Thursday, January 15. What would he think of the state of affairs that we live with today? Would he consider his “dream” for racial equality as somewhat undone, unraveled? Or still evolving?
The eloquence of his message is as relevant in 2015 as it was in 1968 when he died. Perhaps we could honor him today by examining present-day America through his eyes.
16 Friday Jan 2015
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More and more, it feels as if our living rooms are the last bastions of true privacy, where we can uphold our rights to walk around free of intrusion.
11 Thursday Dec 2014
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Christmas tree. Rockefeller Center.
There has long been a dichotomy among Americans. Some love cities; some love the country. Over the course of the last 200 years, Americans have been voting with their feet and cities have been winning. Still many prefer the rural life, at least some of the time. But whether you’re a city or a country person, most people agree that at Christmastime our cities shine.
Tourism in our great cities like London, Rome and New York increases dramatically in late December. People flock to see the store windows, the churches and the Christmas trees. Christmas music and Christmas theater abounds. In New York, the Rockettes head up a Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall. Our concert halls and churches echo the glory of Handel’s “Messiah.” The Salvation Army rings its bells on street corners. It’s the scene saluted in the popular song “Silver Bells.”
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks.
Dressed in holiday style
In the air there’s a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing, people passing
Meeting smile after smile
and on every street corner you’ll hear
Silver bells, silver bells
It’s Christmas time in the city
I think that Christmas time in the city is magical. It is the one time of year when avowed country people are willing to put up with the city crowds. In New York they flock to Rockefeller Center, to Macy’s, Saks and FAO SCHWARZ. They marvel at the decorations on Fifth Avenue. They enjoy ice skating, walks in the park, and of course, the sound of silver bells.
And as the song says, “In the air there’s a feeling of Christmas.” I swear, it’s palpable. There’s nothing like a city at Christmas.
10 Wednesday Dec 2014
Posted in Concepts
… that it’s dark in the morning when we get up, and it’s dark late afternoon as we head home. Reading on the beach is months away. So we’re tucking away our summer-shades header, and raising our winter (eye) glasses to honor the coming solstice and a good read, inside, by the fire.
25 Tuesday Nov 2014
Posted in Concepts
Not one to ruffle feathers when faced with an impasse, I often defer. Whether it be a dispute that needs settling, a step-aside when navigating a pedestrian-heavy sidewalk, or where to go for dinner — I yield to the other guy.
So when I first approached an all-way stop sign that was installed at a tricky three-way suburban intersection that I use almost daily, I imagined that I could be stuck there indefinitely as I allowed car after car after car to take the expected “me-first!” approach. There’s nothing telling the driver what to do after the stop. There are no instructions; no green light. Nothing but a sanguine reliance on the credo that we all learned in kindergarten: take turns.
It could easily serve as a place to take it to the street — put your bully on. There could be a competing hot-rod revving of engines. Or an in-your-grill inching across the white line into the middle of the intersection to muscle into first place. Instead I’m often a partner in a rhythmic dance of nods to go, and smiles to thank. It has become a crossroad of civility in this seemingly less than civil, fast-forward, “get-out-of-my-way!”detached world, where many people don’t like to look up anymore, much less stop what they’re doing.
I’ve yet to see a mess-up. No middle fingers, honking horns, or near-misses. There have been times when two of us have approached at the same time. (The law states that the car that gets to the stop sign first, regardless of what direction it is going, has the right of way.) When I see it coming, I approach slowly, and prepare to be usurped, or to imply with a smile and a nod — “you first.” More often than not, though, I get an implied (or a wave out the window) “no, please — you first.” A sense of camaraderie swells within; a communal let’s-not-take-this-moment-to-the-gutter! We all can get along.
So I have found my own little corner of courtesy in a most unlikely place — a three-way intersection, where we are all veiled in steel and glass and can easily put our feet down, and be pushy — anonymously. Instead, it’s become a place to slow down, take pause, smile, nod, and be magnanimous; cordial. A chance to defer to the other guy. Perhaps, when we are not told what to do, we want to do the right thing.
31 Friday Oct 2014
Posted in Concepts
This way to be treated right.
16 Thursday Oct 2014
Posted in Concepts
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A Monday pour.
Most primary care physicians, as a routine part of a well visit, will ask about your drinking habits. Having spent more time than usual this past year in doctors offices, the dialogue, always with the word “moderately,” and my answer, always the same, came up a half dozen times:
“Do you drink alcohol?”
“Yes.”
“Moderately?”
“What’s moderately?”
“Three or four drinks per week.”
“Hmm. Uh — yes, moderately.”
Truth is, I’m a liar. I’ve started drinking wine at home. Every day. Since I’m dedicated to maintaining good health and my well-being, I know that comes with being happy. So if happiness includes opening a bottle of wine to close down the day’s toil (and every day has some toil), I will pop that cork.
I haven’t always enjoyed a daily dose of wine. I’m a social drinker. I just about salivate my way towards that first sip and, just as mouth-watering, is the anticipation of sharing it with other people. I rarely have a drink before I go out for the evening. But I’m more mature now, and my drinking has fully-developed. I drink gloriously. Like a European.
I’ve come to enjoy and look forward to grabbing the bottle by the neck before I open it up to let it breathe. (I confess that I can’t tell the difference between wine that sits for a bit to “breathe,” or wine that I’ve pulled the broken cork out with my teeth and sucked a first sip right out of the bottle.)
Regardless, once that bottle is untethered, all of the senses start to revel. The smell of an inky, purple-y Malbec, or a freezer-chilled, buttery Chardonnay soothes from the nose down. Unlike that first sip of vodka, which usually makes me quiver into a hoot (“Woo!”), wine whispers its way down my throat, turns up the corners of my mouth, and closes my eyes. It makes the end of the day celebratory; well-lived. Deserved.
Fill ‘er up.
Since I’m not a fan of feeling groggy at night, or heavy-headed the morning after, one glass usually suffices when I’m not sharing. I use the 1940s wheat-etched glasses that my Irish mom (who doesn’t drink a lick), recently gave to me. They’re just a touch of glass; delicate. And I can fill them just below the brim (once) — a pour that is improper (and probably against the law) outside of the home.
So perhaps I will fess up at the next visit to the doctor: Yes, I drink alcohol. Moderately. Every day. I drink wine every day. But usually just one glass. I moderately-pour usually-one glass of wine into a moderately-sized vintage glass. Every day.
13 Monday Oct 2014
Posted in Concepts
Among the fondest memories of we over-50s is penny candy. It amazes my children when I tell them that when I was a kid, you could actually buy something with a penny. In fact, you could often get two of something for a penny — like Bazooka Bubble Gum. In this age of packaged candy that costs a dollar or more, it is truly remarkable that there was a time when we could cash in an empty bottle, and use the two-cent deposit to buy candy!
And just when my children are telling me that the only use for a penny today is to pay sales tax, I blow their minds when I tell them that back when I was a kid, there was no sales tax. People just paid the listed price. Those pennies were just for candy.
Well recently I was travelling on I-95 in Connecticut and I passed a sign that advertized a museum of PEZ. Now PEZ is one of those special baby-boomer-era treats like penny candy. For the uninitiated, PEZ is a small brick-shaped candy that comes in several flavors. It started out In Austria in 1927 as a mint for people who wanted to quit smoking. In fact, the word PEZ comes from the German word “pfefferminz” meaning “peppermint.” The famous PEZ dispenser was designed to look like a cigarette lighter.
However, PEZ did not come to America until the 1950s. So we were the first generation of children to experience it, and the novelty of the now-iconic plastic dispenser. I think that it was certainly the dispenser that made PEZ special. They made hundreds of different dispensers with many famous characters on them. Collecting PEZ dispensers is still widespread enough that collectors gather annually for conventions.
At the PEZ Museum in Orange, Connecticut they have displays of the many ingenious dispensers that the company has made over the years. My favorites are the dispensers with the heads of presidents of the United States. But there are few licensed characters in the world from Mickey Mouse to Elvis Presley who have not had their heads on a PEZ dispenser.
In addition to the traditional cigarette shaped dispenser, PEZ also marketed guns as dispensers. This allowed kids to shoot candy into the mouths of their friends.
The PEZ museum is actually located at the plant where PEZ candy is made (the dispensers come from China). So if you go on a weekday, you can watch them make thousands of little PEZ bricks in scores of flavors. And of course, you can buy PEZ. Here, the self-guided tour does not just exit through the gift shop, it is integrated into the gift shop. But where else can you find a Thomas the Tank Engine or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles PEZ dispenser?
PEZ and penny candy are among the great treats of a baby boomer childhood. Sadly, only PEZ is still with us. The types of candy that a penny used to buy, if you can still find them, are now a specialty nostalgia item. But even at the current inflated price, a licorice pipe is a treat that I will want to share with my grandson. And I can amaze him with tales of the wondrous things a penny used to buy for a kid.
03 Friday Oct 2014
18 Monday Aug 2014
Posted in Concepts
When The Write Side of 50 launched in November 2012, Julie was recovering from hip replacement surgery and Lois stated often, that, unlike many people her age, she had never had back pain.
Well, twenty-one months later, Julie has a new hip that’s as good as new, has traveled to remote corners of the world, and may very well hold the record in all of Manhattan for museum, art house, and restaurant visits.
Lois has had back pain due to trauma for nine weeks now, has moved twice, and got a divorce.
And the blog has remained afloat. (In no small measure, thanks also to the contributions of Frank and Bob.)
But they need a real vacation – a veg-out; a brain and body recharge. Maybe even a departure from the grid entirely – no e-mails, no worries. A beach bingo.
So they put the blog in charge of itself for one week. Starting tomorrow, The Write Side of 50 will be reposting four of its favorite and most popular pieces from that first year.
And also worth repeating – thank you! to all readers, followers, and contributors.
The Write Side of 59 