Tag Archives: Concepts

No Matter How You Frame It …

19 Friday Jul 2013

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frames 001

Photo by Julie Seyler.

BY LOIS DESOCIO

… an anniversary is an anniversary. And worth noting, whether it be with a big bash, a gift, a clink of flutes, or simply – a few sentences.

The Write Side of 50 turns eight months old today. So, we thank you again – contributors, readers, commenters, “likers” (and “dislikers”). We started out with an empty frame; a periphery: “We’re getting old,” we said.

Let’s write about it. And paint it, and take pictures of it, and ruminate, and celebrate. And ask others to chime in. So, we hope that bit by bit, and month by month, we’re successfully painting, snapping, and chronicling an engaging, more-to-come narrative; a picture of middle-aged life.

Richard Burton, and His Diaries, Found an Entry to My Heart

16 Tuesday Jul 2013

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ode to rb 5

BY JULIE SEYLER

Frank recommended the biography of Abraham Lincoln as summer reading fare because of Abe’s nobility of spirit. I am recommending Richard Burton because of his spirit of noble passion. Frank and I both want to escape the pedestrian pettiness of present-day politics – not to mention the horror show of news from the Middle East – but we travel different routes. While I, too, am a devoted admirer of Abe, my mood right now screams out for light, sexy, fun, acerbic. Richard Burtons’s diaries are perfect.

Who doesn’t love Richard Burton in Virginia Woolf? Cleopatra? The Night of the Iguana? And The Spy who Came in from the Cold?

He is a great actor, but his uncensored recordations between 1940 when he is 15, and 1983 when he is 57, reveal a brilliant, compassionate, caustic, humble, and at times hysterically witty, observer of foibles – his own as well as those of the rich and famous he partied and worked with. I dread finishing the book because I have become so attached to him. I am going to mourn his death of long ago.

But he lives on in the computer. I can listen to him recite the poetry of Dylan Thomas, and watch him and Julie Andrews singing “Camelot” on the Ed Sullivan show from 43 years ago. These days, I invariably call Steve “Richard,” and I, of course am Liz. Ha Ha! I am boring everyone with my Dickie anecdotes. This is especially wearing on people who cannot abide celebrity worship. But I nay-say them. He is beyond stimulating, insightful and erudite. He critiques the zillions of books he is always reading. He expostulates on the political scene, and never refrains from dissecting the uglier parts of his own personality.

His public persona may be linked to booze and ultra-luxe, but his day-to-day musings are riddled with the concerns, joys and worries that are familiar to anyone on the right side of 50. The diaries are a hugely readable, not People-magazinable, peek into the privileges of astounding wealth while, at the same time, offering up a portrait of a middle-aged man beset with the fears, pleasures, and anxieties that are common to all of us.

He fetters over having to work to make money:

March 26, 1966. I worry enormously about the fact that we have no money. I worry that I will not be able to look after my wife and my children after I’m dead.

He frets over the welfare of his children:

November 1, 1969. We are having desperate trouble with Michael. We do our damndest to help him but it is impossible…However we will do our best and love him a lot and have patience with him…

And he is riddled with arthritis:

July 30, 1971. Missed yesterday as I have a gouty or arthritic left wrist, exquisitely uncomfortable.

The next day:

I was so uncomfortable last night that in bed the slightest movement made me groan as if demented. Elizabeth says I am the world’s champion ‘conyn’ whicb is Welsh for moaning hypochondriac.
He loved eating at the best French restaurants, and the simplest Italian trattorias. He fantasizes about retirement. In some ways, he is just like you and me – until you come upon an entry such as this one, where he recounts how Elizabeth acquired the Cartier diamond. On October 2, 1969 they visited a hospital in Geneva where they had donated money to build a paraplegics ward (Richard’s brother Ivor was a paraplegic):

Somewhere between the hospital and dinner brooding set in. Between long silences deadly insults were hurled about. At one point E. knowing I was in a state of nastiness, said to me at the lousy Italian restaurant we went to: Come on Richard, hold my hand. Me: I do not wish to touch your hands. They are large and ugly and red and masculine. Or words to that effect. After that my mind was like a malignant cancer-I was incurable. I either remained stupidly silent or, if I did speak, managed an insult a second. What the hell’s the matter with me? I love milady more than my life…Why do I hurt (her) so much and spoil the day?

The next day:

I am very contrite this morning but one of these days it’s going to be too late cock, too late. E. has just said that I really must get her the 69 carat ring to make her big ugly hands look smaller and less ugly. Nobody turns insults to her advantage more swiftly or more cleverly than Lady Elizabeth. The insult last night is going to cost me. Betcha!

Next time I am asked, “Who would you invite to your next dinner party?” I would reply, Richard Jenkins, a Welsh miner’s son, aka Richard Burton.

ode to rb 6

A Hail to the Chiefs: Lincoln Among Presidents Who Served in Their 50s

15 Monday Jul 2013

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P1170371There’s a Lot Right about Being in Your 50s. By Julie Seyler.

BY FRANK TERRANELLA

It’s summer reading time, and this year my summer reading includes Doris Kearns Goodwin’s 2005 biography of Abraham Lincoln called, “Team of Rivals.” It’s all about how Lincoln stocked his administration with men who were his rivals for the Republican presidential nomination in 1860. It’s extremely detailed with lots of great material about Lincoln’s life and, more importantly, a glimpse into his mindset. A small part of it was the basis for the Spielberg film, “Lincoln” where the 16th president was portrayed by Daniel Day-Lewis.

This year, we’re commemorating the 150th anniversary of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. Lincoln was 54 when he delivered it. Less than two years later, he would be dead. So the Great Emancipator never made it out of his 50s. His entire presidency ran from less than a month after his 52nd birthday to a couple of months after his 56th birthday. It’s a bit unsettling to think that I have already lived longer than Lincoln ever did.

I have done some research and found that Lincoln was not unusual in being in his 50s while president. According to Wikipedia, the median age when our U.S. presidents took office is 54 years and 11 months. Most of our presidents served at least part of their term while in their 50s. The list of presidents who served their entire term while in their 50s includes (in addition to Lincoln), Martin Van Buren, John Tyler, Millard Fillmore, Rutherford B. Hayes, Chester Arthur, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley, William Taft, Warren Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, Jimmy Carter and George W. Bush.

What I glean from this is that our society feels that people in their 50s can be trusted with the reins of government. They have enough experience through more than a half-century of living so that their judgment is sound, and yet they are not so old that they no longer have the energy to do the job. Looked at this way, being in your 50s is the sweet spot in life. You’re at the precipice of ability. Oh sure, there’s a long slope to senility ahead. But for now, for many in their 50s, it’s the top of the world.

The Tagline: Keep it Simple, S*****

09 Tuesday Jul 2013

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cloud mountains from prop plane back to GC

Let’s be clear.

BY LOIS DESOCIO

From its birth, Julie and I wanted “The Write Side of 50” to be a forum for us 50-somethings to figure out, through our words and our art, how to navigate and shed some light on all the “stuff” that comes with being on the side of 50 that is closer to 60.

That we, “An Artist and a Journalist,” would “Demystify, Debunk and Debate the Myths Around Being in Your 50s.”

Well, eight months in, we agree that while there has been some “debate:”

“Before the Oil,There Was an Olive”
“An E-mail Ode (And Reply) to the Oyster Pearl.”

And a few (kinda) “debunks:”

“Men in Mid-Life: Puberty Revisited? Or a Time to Grow Up?”
“I Don’t Man-up for the Super Bowl.”

What the heck have we “demystified?” And what, exactly, does that mean?

One of the hardest things to write is a tagline. To compose a catchphrase that’s smart, succinct, and short. A sentence that tells you who we are, and why we’re here.

We think we overdid it the first time around. We think we might have confused some of our readers, and we, ourselves, have been collectively cringing, every day, when we log on, and that sentence is the first thing we see.

It takes a year or more for a blog to find its voice, and we 50-year-olds are not to be contained and imprisoned by a sentence. We never run out of ideas. We have the gift of perspective, the realization that we’re halfway done, and the wisdom to make the best of what’s left. (And as Bob so honestly wrote – we also know that we could drop dead any day now.)

So, it’s time to unshackle ourselves from those three Ds, and better reflect the voice that has evolved all on its own over the last eight months. We want a tagline that’s looser, less cryptic and not wordy. (And no more alliteration, please!) So let’s just say it:

“This is What Happens When You Hit the Right Side of Middle Age.”

Stay tuned. We are blowing open our vault, and bringing on some inspiring new contributors. Anything goes.

To Brew 5000-Year-Old Sumerian Beer, Follow the Poem

01 Monday Jul 2013

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Egyptian beer.

Egyptian beer.

BY JULIE SEYLER

The other day I came across an article in The New York Times about a craft brewery relying on a 19th century B.C. poem called, “Hymn to Ninkasi,” from Sumeria to create a new brew.

As a subscriber to the theory that everything old is new again, I was intrigued. Not because alcohol was part of the menu thousands of years ago. This is a well-known fact since every movie set in ancient Rome has a scene devoted to drunken debauchery and endless goblets of flowing wine. But I had no idea that there was a recorded document dedicated to a goddess of beer. Her name was Ninkasi, and according to one translation of the mysterious pictograms found on the clay tablet, Ninkasi was worshipped for her beer-making skills. She handled the dough with a big shovel, watered the malt, and spread cooked mash on large reed mats. The poem ends with this stanza:

When you pour out the filtered beer of the collector vat,
It is [like] the onrush of Tigris and Euphrates.
Ninkasi, you are the one who pours out the filtered beer of the collector vat,
It is [like] the onrush of Tigris and Euphrates.

So the cradle of civilization was also the source of the first craft beer.

An Internet search revealed Ninkasi is not obscure amongst the brewing set. So let’s raise a cold one to those on the quest to perfect her recipe.

BREAKFAST AND BEER

Spines, Heads, Menopause and Fish

28 Friday Jun 2013

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FISH HEADS SEATTLE

Photo by Julie Seyler.

BY LOIS DESOCIO

The two fish pictured above, whether staged for sale, or captured in their final moments, gills packed, mouths agape in a gasp for “air,” moved me with its perceived spirit of, “Don’t give up!”

I’m drawn to fish faces, whether viewed in tanks, or when snorkeling and swimming with them. There’s something in their eyes. Perhaps because they are always open.

When my kids were little, we had a goldfish, named Cootie, which had a nice big tank all to himself. (We decided it was a he.) We loved him. He would swim to the edge of the tank and nostril-up to the glass whenever we were in the room, and stay there. I assumed he was happy as a clam, because he was always smiling. And he lived so long, that he grew to be the size of a carp. When he died, we buried him in the back yard.

There are barrels of studies that suggest a connection between fish and people, including:

We owe our heads to fish. (In utero, our eyes are on the side of our heads.)
Fish were the first to have a backbone.
They make friends.
They help each other when one is in danger.

And especially fascinating:

Female guppies go through menopause. (Cool, that doctors recommend fish oil for easing symptoms of human menopause.)

So, let’s give a Friday salute to the two fish out of water above, which were undoubtedly sold, then eaten. Let’s, instead, weigh them on the scale of our homogeneity of the human kind.

There’s No Tiptoeing Around The Hair on Our Heads

13 Thursday Jun 2013

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Hair...a mind of its own. Photocollage by Julie Seyler

Hair…a mind of its own. Photocollage by Julie Seyler

BY JULIE SEYLER AND LOIS DESOCIO

The blog has weighed in on eyebrows, so why not meander onto other post-50 hair issues? Like the way it morphs into a foreign object in strange places (ear and nose hair, mostly on men), or pulls a disappearing act (where’d the hairline go?), or simply re-invents itself from a thick flow of trestly curls into a plate of limp spaghetti strands.

There are thousands of documented scientific, genetic, chemical, hormonal explanations for these unsuspected changes, but they do not cure the shock of the switcheroo. And just as you get accustomed to one specific change, such as adapting to fine hair after a lifetime of dense curls, it becomes even finer – so fine that if you touch it, it ends up in your hand instead of staying nicely in place on the top of your head. Aging is body betrayal on tiptoes.

Here, plucked from The U.S. National Library of Medicine and The National Institutes of Health, is the science that gets to the root of aging hair:

Hair thickness change. Hair is made of many protein strands. A single hair has a normal life between 2 and 6 years. That hair then falls out and is replaced with a new hair. How much hair you have on your body and head is also determined by your genes.

“… nearly everyone has some hair loss with aging. The rate of hair growth also slows.

Hair strands become smaller and have less pigment. So the thick, coarse hair of a young adult eventually becomes thin, fine, light-colored hair. Many hair follicles stop producing new hairs.

Men may start showing signs of baldness by the time they are 30 years old. Many men are nearly bald by age 60. A type of baldness related to the male hormone testosterone is called male-pattern baldness. Hair may be lost at the temples or at the top of the head.

Women can develop a similar type of baldness as they age. This is called female-pattern baldness. Hair becomes less dense and the scalp may become visible.

As you age, your body and facial hair are also lost. But hairs that remain may become coarser. Women may lose body hair. Facial hair may get coarser, especially on the chin and around the lips. Men may grow longer and coarser eyebrow, ear, and nose hair.”

Phooey. It doesn’t have to be that way. Errant nose, ear, chin, and hand! hair can be plucked and snipped, shaved and sheared. But here’s the dirt on the hair on your head: Don’t wash it. You can still shower, of course. But just rinse. And run your fingers through it under the spout. Massage the oils out and throughout. Shun the shampoo part starting on Monday, and by Thursday, you will have the hair you had in your 30s. A little grease adds heft and sheen. There’s a reason that the hair follicles, those sebaceous glands, are full of natural oils. Keep any loose hairs in place by not brushing them. Instead: Scrunch. Tousle. Repeat.

And research supports that, along with good nutrition, exercise will keep hair healthy. So, hit the gym, steer clear of shampoo, and add some sweat to the grit. Skeptics might imagine that this combination would lead to nothing but a bad hair day of “limp spaghetti strands.”  No –  you will, instead, sport “a thick flow of trestly curls.”

Can the Brakes be Applied on Silly Business Names?

05 Wednesday Jun 2013

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brake bob silly

Part of the pan*o*rama of silly signage on our roadsides. Photos by Bob Smith.

BY BOB SMITH

Why do people think it’s useful to name their businesses using puns and wordplay? It doesn’t make them memorable; it makes them silly. And I happen upon them so often. Last Sunday, as I drove through a semi-rural area of Passaic County, New Jersey, I came across a spate of silly-named businesses. First there was BRAKE*O*RAMA. As we all know from reading Wikipedia, “Rama,” is the seventh avatar of the god Vishnu in Hinduism, considered by some to be the supreme being. So it makes perfect sense to have a car repair shop named after him.

That same god has also inspired a floor covering store in Neptune, New Jersey called RUGARAMA, and a chain of door and window stores called WINDOWRAMA. Years ago there was even a beauty shop in Asbury Park named OH!HARRIET’S GLAMOUR-RAMA. I think Rama as a business-naming convention is on the wane, having been supplanted in recent years by the ubiquitous DEPOT.

But it survives in Haskell, New Jersey (named after the first avatar of teenage wiseguys from the ’60s – Eddie Haskell). Then there was FABRICADABRA, an apparently magical fabric and interior decorating store. fabric bob silly

It had an ugly, bulbous, green awning, and didn’t look magical at all. A block away from that was THE MEATING PLACE, a butcher shop that I suppose might also be the local pickup bar. I was late for a meating (I was en route to a barbeque, after all), so I couldn’t stop to get a photo of that.

Finally there was PASTABILITYS, featuring a concrete bunker facade, and the chance for al-fresco dining on plastic seats in the parking lot. The possibilities seemed – well, frankly, limited. But the name? Totally unique. And silly.bob pasta silly

When My Spouse Cheats, It’s “On” Video

04 Tuesday Jun 2013

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Darling, I have a confession. Me and the DVR are dating.

Darling, I have a confession. Me and the DVR are dating. By Julie Seyler.

By FRANK TERRANELLA

Modern video technology has revolutionized the way we watch television. The digital video recorder (DVR) has made it so easy to record television that many people no longer watch anything “live.” It’s easier to watch later (even just 20 minutes later), and then zip through the commercials.

This has had two unanticipated social repercussions. First, since most people do not watch television when it is broadcast, it’s no longer possible to have water-cooler discussions at work of the previous night’s programs because many people have not yet watched them. And a related phenomenon is the new form of marital infidelity called “video cheating.”

What is video cheating and how serious a problem is it? Video cheating is watching a show alone rather than waiting to watch it later with your significant other. How serious a problem is it? Oh, it’s very serious. It’s a sign of pure selfishness, like finishing the last of the chocolate ice cream without offering to share it.

Back before video recording, we all had to watch the shows live or not at all. We all found out together who shot JR. You either were in front of a television set on Tuesday, August 29, 1967, or you missed the series finale of “The Fugitive,” and probably still don’t know the fate of the one-armed man. The VCR brought some freedom from the network schedule, but the DVR made recoding shows to watch later (so-called “time shifting”) a way of life. And so today, we rarely ever watch live television except for sports and news.

But with great power over the television viewing experience came great responsibility. The shows you formerly watched together with your spouse now could be watched without him or her. This led to a silent pact wherein each partner agreed to wait for the other before viewing so that the former live TV sharing experience could be replicated. While the rest of the world was on week five of “Mad Men,” in our house, we could be on week four, or even week three. But as long as we watched it together, it didn’t matter.

Breaking the pact could be as simple as watching the show live while your spouse is out. The absent spouse comes home, and the following scene is played out:

Spouse 1:  “You missed a great episode of ‘Burn Notice.’”

Spouse 2 (voice rising): “What do you mean I missed it? We’re supposed to watch that together. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

Spouse 1 (apologetic): “I’m sorry, the DVR changed the channel I was watching and started recording ‘Burn Notice.’ What did you want me to do, shut off the TV?”

Spouse 2 (outraged): “Yes!!! That’s OUR show. You can’t watch it without me. What’s wrong with you?”

(Spouse 2 storms out of the room to pout.)

Video cheating – it’s a terrible thing that technology has wrought. And don’t get me started about spouses hijacking the Netflix queue and refusing a friend request from their spouse on Facebook. It’s a miracle the divorce rate isn’t 80%.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things …

28 Tuesday May 2013

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Allenhurst AM

Allenhurst in the a.m. All photos by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Is it accurate to state that we on the right side of 50 can automatically conjure up that scene from “The Sound of Music” when the seven Von Trapp children are jumping off their beds while Julie Andrews, aka Maria, is trilling “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens?”

I am not saying the vision conjures up the same feelings – there are those who embrace that movie, and those who disdain it. But what I am saying is that it is a cultural set-point of the mid-60s. Because of that scene, and that song (and nobody but nobody does a better interpretation of “My Favorite Things” than John Coltrane), I love to think about, and make lists of my favorite things – many of which have changed; others of which have stayed the same.

So something like sitting on the beach before the crowds arrive, watching the sea slurp in and out, and the gulls swoop up and down, is a no-brainer favorite thing since way before I started coasting past the half-century mark. However, a super-chilled gin martini with a single olive on a Saturday evening is a new favorite thing – the gin factor making it “new.”

Frosted.

Frosted.

But the best-of-all favorite thing evolved soon after I became a pasta addict in 1986 following a trip to Italy. The favorite part is not simply eating spaghetti, it’s eating spaghetti at 6 a.m. on a rainy Sunday morning with a glass of fermented grape juice.

Spaghetti for breakfast.

Spaghetti for breakfast.