SEXAGENARIAN
Monday, August 19, 2019
Friday, October 11, 2013
Sexagenarian Sing-along
{To the tune of "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" from The Sound of Music}
Your life, old girl,
has been quite a ride
With mem’ries to
delight on.
But what’s ahead? Are
you full of dread
Thinking this might be
your swan song?
Au contraire! old
girl, and adieu to blues!
It’s just a new
beginning.
Ignore the time and
this silly rhyme
There’s plenty for you
to groove on…
to groove on…
You are 60 going on 70
Oh what a life you’ve had!
Good times & bad, lovers, husbands & cads
Your history screams, “egads!”
Gone are the old taboos of life
Past errors all grow dim
Finally free to be yourself
To follow any whim
No longer timid, shy or scared
At home within your skin
Granted, it sags a bit these days
Much to your chagrin
Grateful to have such loving friends
For all the things you share
The joys as well as aches and pains
Thank goodness for MediCare
You can replace your worn-out parts
Nip/tuck your eyes and chin
Go to the gym, work out and swim
Oh, to hell with discipline!
You are someone older and wiser
You know what to do
Darling 60 going on 70
Have a drink…
Just have a drink…
Or two
Cheers! |
Peace & Love
Sunday, September 8, 2013
What Would Life Be Without Mr. Darcy?
And another thing…
My sixties are best defined
by what I consider a miracle. Just a few months before my 60th
birthday, Mr. Darcy found me. His
nickname on the rescue site photo was “Cary Grant”, but there he was, not yet
six weeks old, looking right at me, his eyes saying come and get me. So I did. My sexagenarian birthday present to
myself.
six weeks & so tiny |
My corporate working life
included a lot of travel, and later as a consultant I continued to pop around
the globe. I was ready to stay home and thought
it would be nice to have a man around the house. The 2-legged version wasn’t
working out so well. I’d always wanted
my own Mr. Darcy, but Colin Firth, Laurence Olivier and Matthew Macfayden were
unavailable.
The day I adopted Mr. Darcy
was one of the happiest, and scariest, days of my life. So handsome, but so
little and fluffy and helpless and totally dependent—on me. It was like bringing a baby home from the hospital and saying
“Now what?” At least I don’t have to send him to college. I calmly (and
assertively, since I was practicing my “Alpha Mom” voice) explained that we
were both new at this, and we’d have to figure it out together.
Four years later and it’s
still a love-fest. And here’s what I
know so far:
If you plan on getting a dog
in your sixties, and you’re a confirmed couch potato, get a cute little lap dog.
Preferably one that’s already house-trained.
Do not get a border collie who
needs to run—a lot—and who’s also smarter than you are.
On the other hand, if you enjoy
brisk walks, want to stay in shape, and meet your neighbors, he’s the dog for
you. Mr. Darcy quickly became a neighborhood favorite, and after four years of
walking the streets, every outing is like walking into Cheers—everybody knows his name. Not mine. Without him, I enjoy
anonymity.
...and Suzy's deck |
We love Yappy Hour... |
Without Mr. D, would I have
enjoyed playful runs on the beach, beautiful pre-dawn moonlit skies, majestic
swans on a canal dock, and romps in the snow? Would Darcy and his best friends run
and wrestle while their humans sip wine at “Yappy Hour” every day? I’m not
kidding—in my sixties I have literally “gone to the dogs”.
With Darcy, I am exploring
the world anew, like a child, with wonderment. A few years ago, I underwent
EMDR therapy (fascinating, but totally off-subject). I tended to see in images,
and what I saw was a little lagoon of intense deep, dark blue, with ripples
moving ever-so-slowly in concentric circles. When I looked deeper, I felt I was
seeing and feeling love through Darcy’s eyes and it was pure joy.
Without Mr. D would I have
written Fifty Shades of Grrrr on my
Long Beach Patch blog? (Check it out, it’s funny.) Would I have bought a
Shop-Vac for shedding hair?
Colin Firth has nothin' on my guy |
Would I have installed doggie doors everywhere and call my upstairs porch the “poop deck”?
This unconditional love
thing is amazing. In your sixties or at any age.
Peace & Love
Monday, August 26, 2013
Sixty Going on Seventy
Fifty was easy. Everybody
was doing it. Hitting the half-century mark was universally and emphatically
celebrated. Almost 80 million baby boomers (including the President) were
turning 50 at the rate of 10,000 per day. Remember “50 is the new 30”? A new millennium
was on the horizon. I felt young and vital and threw a big party to celebrate
my own half-century on this planet.
Sixty? Not so much. Sixty
was different. It was personal. I was going to start this blog at 60 but
figured I’d take a little time to get the feel of this new decade. Know what?
You can’t take a little time, because
it rushes by way too fast and it’s gone. [One day I said to myself: “I’m forty!” By the time I recovered from the
shock of that discovery, I had reached fifty. –Simone de Beauvoir]
Sixty-four is imminent. If I
wait any longer to start this blog, I’ll have to call it “Septuagenarian”—which
simply doesn’t have the same appeal.
And saying “sexagenarian”
makes me laugh.
I’m finally getting the hang
of this new decade. Older & wiser? Not so sure. Please keep in mind that
this is a rant, written by a sexagenarian, so forgive me any lapses (we will never
say “senior moment” here).
I hope you’ll join me in
exploring this strange and daunting decade.
One thing
I know so far:
If you tell someone your age
and they say, “No way!”, it might feed your ego, but don’t believe them. You
look your age. Or maybe you look great for
your age. It’s just that 60 looks younger these days. If they’re really young, 60 is so ancient that if
you’re walking, talking and breathing, they’re rendered speechless.
I recently saw a talk show
segment where they compared the grannies and nannies of early TV to stars of a
certain age today. For example, remember Aunt Bee from the Andy Griffith Show? Frances
Bavier was fifty-eight when she played that role! Seeing her next to current
photos of Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn, both sexagenarians, illustrates the
point brilliantly. [Ah, but I was
so much older then, I’m younger than that now. –Bob Dylan]
Check out pictures of your
parents when they were your age, or younger, and it’s obvious that the face of
aging has changed. There was a lot of money to be made from keeping our huge
generation happily youthful and healthy. Remember saying “better living through
chemistry”? [What a drag it is
getting old. –Mick Jagger & Keith Richards]
I’m not in sexagenarian
denial. Fact is, I simply can’t believe that I can possibly be over sixty, let alone almost 64. The
peace sign is over fifty, the millennium is already 13 years behind us, and
Woodstock was way back in 1969. Were you there? I was. Do I want to go back?
No, once was more than enough. Several years ago, in an event attempting to
mimic Woodstock, one group mistakenly decorated their van with the Mercedes
logo…
If it feels good, do it. The mantra of a generation. This feels good. I’ll
do it again next week.
Peace & Love
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