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The Write Side of 59

~ This is What Happens When You Begin to Age Out of Middle Age

The Write Side of 59

Tag Archives: The Write Side of 50

I Have Become My Grandfather. Except I Can Look It Up

21 Tuesday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Confessional, Men

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confessional, Men, Smartphones, The Write Side of 50

Frank phone

BY FRANK TERRANELLA

Most of us have reached the point in life where names and titles sometimes elude us. I distinctly remember the same thing happening to my grandparents. As a child I would often prompt them with the names that were just out of mental reach

“What’s the name of that actress with the big nose?” my grandmother would say.

“What’s that guy’s name who’s on that TV show I like?” my grandfather would ask.

As a dutiful grandson, I provided the answers.

Well that was then. Fast forward 50 years, and now I’m the one asking, “What’s the name of that movie with Groucho Marx and Marilyn Monroe?”

And I can see them both in my mind’s eye as they play a scene together. But I can’t get back to the title screen. I have become my grandfather.

The difference between me and people my age 50 years ago is that I have in the palm of my hand a 21st-century machine that supplies answers to everything anyone would ever want to know. It has apps like Wikipedia and IMDB, that are like having my own grandson at my beck and call.

My smartphone remembers all the things that I don’t. Just a few years ago, before I had a smartphone, my wife and I would struggle to recall names and titles. I remember many a Sunday afternoon at my mother’s house where all the adults around the table would agonize to recall one important name or another and my son, who was the only one at the time who had a smartphone, would simply look it up and take us out of our misery. Now many of us over 50 have smartphones, and they are fabulous for quickly finding those names that are on the tip of our tongues.

So today, we grandparents don’t have to rely on grandchildren to provide the answers to life’s persistent questions. We can look it up online. But just as using a calculator robbed us of the ability to perform simple mathematics, and having phone numbers programmed into phones made us forget our phone number, I fear that knowing that we can use Siri as a virtual grandchild will make us even more dependent on technology than we are already.

Years ago we were forced to rack our brains to remember things and usually the brain came through — eventually. I can remember many a morning waking up with a name or title that had eluded me the night before. But if we never challenge the aging brain to retrieve information, won’t we eventually lose that ability as well?

So I guess that like everything else, we need to rely on our smartphones in moderation. Leave the less important questions like movie trivia to stew in our brains (overnight if necessary). “Use it or lose it” applies to brains as much as anything else.

And it’s a good feeling to come up with a name or title on your own. Anyway, the day may come when a smartphone (or the Internet) is not available. And maybe when that day comes we will be able to come up with the answer on our own. Or maybe not. Just to be safe, I plan to have my grandchildren around as a backup. You can’t have too many lifelines in life.

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Romania: The Royal Art Museum

20 Monday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Art

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Art, Bucharest, Julie Seyler, National Art Museum, Romania, The Write Side of 50

At the Royal Art Museum

At the Royal Art Museum.

BY JULIE SEYLER

We arrived home from Romania, and the sidebar excursions to Paris and London, around midnight Saturday, October 18. I have started culling the 3500 photos I took, and was brought back to the afternoon we spent wandering the National Art Museum in Bucharest. Architecturally, it is a testament to 19th century palatial elegance.

Postcard of National Art Museum 1937-38.

Postcard of National Art Museum 1937-38.

It was built between 1812 to 1815 (the approximate time the U.S. was engaged in the War of 1812 with Great Britain). It started as a private residence, was taken over by royalty in 1834, housed the seat of the State Council during the reign of Nicolae Ceausescu, and opened as an art museum in 2000. Its collection ranges from embroidered tapestries dating to the 14th century to paintings by European masters like Lucas Cranach the Elder and Rembrandt to sculptures by its native son, Constantin Brancusi, and others I never heard of.

Venus and Cupid by Lucas Cranach the Elder

Venus and Cupid by Lucas Cranach the Elder.

Emroidery with silver gilt thread Neamt Monastery 14th century?

Emroidery with silver gilt thread Neamt Monastery, 14th century?

The Chimera of Air  by Dimitrie Pachurea 1873-1922

The Chimera of Air by Dimitrie Pachurea 1873-1922.

But one of the best unexpected finds was the grand staircase leading up to the European galleries:

stairs at the Royal Art Museum Bucharest

It had endless angles …

stairs 6

… and curves to explore.

National art museum stairs 1

It was like looking at a giant heart:

stairs7

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The Saturday Blog: Eyes

18 Saturday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Art

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Art, Eyeglasses, The Saturday Blog, The Write Side of 50

glasses

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Yes, Doc. I Drink Every Day

16 Thursday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Concepts

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Tags

Concepts, The Write Side of 50, Wine

wine 2

A Monday pour.

BY LOIS DESOCIO

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.

photo-8

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.

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A Few Bites from the Land of Dracula

14 Tuesday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Food

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Tags

Food, Romania, The Write Side of 50

Enjoy this pictorial for the palate sent by Julie, who has been traveling through Romania for the past two weeks. Who knew? Romania is, apparently, a foodie destination — with menus rich in range and steeped in flavor. Meals, according to Julie, included “the best tabbouleh ever,” veal knuckles, and Spaghetti Bolognese.

photo-12

The square in Piata Mica, Sibiu Romania.

The food in Romania is decadent. From fried pork appetizers to papanash, a donut covered with cream and sweet berries, there is always something to make you worry about your cholesterol and waistline. Of course – salads are always an option.~Julie

photo-13

Julie said, even though “Martini” was “on” the menu, there were none.

photo 2

See below for what this is called …

photo 1-2

"Best Tabbouleh EVER!"

“Best tabbouleh EVER!”

photo-22

Bean and Bacon Soup in Bread.

photo-18

Salad.

photo-23

Veal Knuckles.

photo-21

Fried Pork with Raw Onion.

photo-14

Spaghetti.

photo-17

The servers.

photo-19

The desserts.

photo-24

Papanash (cheese and sugar).

photo-15

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The Saturday Blog: Seaward

11 Saturday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Art

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Art, The Saturday Blog, The Write Side of 50

P1210390

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Crabby Pig

10 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Food

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Tags

Blue Olive Market, Crabs, Pork, The Write Side of 50

Blue Olive Market. East 41st St. Manhattan

Blue Olive Market. East 41st St. Manhattan

A piece of pork (with a side of soft shell crabs) for lunch. Yum?

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The Saturday Blog: Hanging Out

04 Saturday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Art

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The Saturday Blog, The Write Side of 50

hanging out

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What’s in a Name?

03 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Concepts

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Concepts, The Write Side of 50

HUGHES:

Hughes 825

hes

Augh3

ORhesugh 2

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I Blinked, and It’s My Birthday Again

01 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by WS50 in Confessional

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Birthday, Julie Seyler, The Write Side of 50

scan0010

Looking towards 60.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Birthdays are funny. How we relate to the day we are born changes with age. The year we turn one we are incognizant of the significance, but parents and grandparents are feasting on the fact that a year has passed since you entered the world. By the time you are six, birthdays have been converted into knowledge that this is a special day. Presents are bestowed and there is cake galore. Anticipation builds for the next year, which feels as if it will take FOREVER. Gaining age is a positive.

The milestone birthdays set in: 18 and the right to vote, 21 and the right to drink (albeit in 1973 the legal age in New Jersey was 18), 30 and the idea that this is “old,” and 40 brings the recognition that this is “young.” The big 5-0 feels momentous, but with time passage, it dawns that this is still the minor leagues. After 55 things seem to change slightly, because it is this new era of approaching “old” age, and yet it is always relative. Young and old are only comparison adjectives.

40

Today, I turn 59. Amongst my peers born in 1955, I am on the “younger” side. I have friends that will be turning 60 in four months. It is beyond comprehension that this is happening. I remember my “Sweet 16” (it was a surprise party), and I planned my 40th with assiduous care.

Lois and me at my 40th

Lois and me at my 40th.

Nineteen years ago, and it seems like yesterday. But the reality exists: I shall soon be a woman of 60 years of age.

The cliche that time collapses as we age is proven as each year flies by. Twenty years is forever at six, and the blink of an eye at 60.

But I am going in with gusto, because while I may wither on the outside I am determined to take my Vitamin D and blossom on the inside.

With age comes wisdom, and knowing that the best and only defense to the right side of any age is staying active, curious, connected and laughing as much as possible.

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