Preparations For The New Year

I didn’t plan to make any New Year’s resolutions this year, but a couple of reoccurring TV commercials have made me change my mind. Offering alarming statistics about what will happen in 2012, I thought it prudent to air on the side of caution by heeding their warnings. After all, I might be old, but I’m not stupid.

The first ad said that one out of three Seniors will fall and injure themselves in the coming year. So, to insure I’m not part of that statistic, I plan to be proactive and attach seat belts to my computer chair, my bed, and the couch, as well. I am also putting reflective tape on the thresholds of every doorway to the outside. And finally, I’m ordering a truck inner tube I will inflate and begin wearing around my waist whenever I ambulate. I might even paint it the same color as the bike helmet I'm going to start wearing 24/7.

The other commercial claims that one out of six people will get food poisoning in the New Year. For that reason I am going to advertise for, and hire a Food Taster in 2012. And if I can’t find anyone who needs the work, I’ll buy a pet with a delicate digestive track. If that fails, I’ll only eat when I feel like I’m going to faint, or after I regain consciousness from doing so.

Of course, I won’t have to keep these safety precautions in place the entire year. On December 23 the Mayan Calendar runs out, and the world’s going to end, anyway. At least that guarantees I won’t fall down while Christmas shopping at the mall, or get sick eating tainted holiday pizzelles.

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!

Male and Female Compatibility: Another Bogus Study

I have contended for years, that the existence of men and women on this Earth, and their admonition to coexist peacefully and live in harmony, is nothing more than a “Heavenly Hoax.” Yes, the Creator and his Gang knew there would be many a slow day in Heaven once all the mansions were built, so they devised a scheme to keep themselves amused when things got boring.

I can visualize them dangling their feet off a cloud, looking down and observing our pathetic attempts at Earthly male/female interaction. And I can hear their chuckles and belly laughs as they see how lousy things are going, but how diligent we are at trying to make it work despite the knowledge that doing the same thing over and over again while hoping for different results, is at least one definition of insanity.

I thought, perhaps, a recent study by a New York Couples Therapist might change my long jaded opinion about the inherent incompatibilities between men and women. It began by offering the conclusion that it was “caring” gestures, not romantic ones, that “make women feel really good,” and even go a long way to “getting (them) turned on in the bedroom.”

Fighting back the stirrings of a giggle, I read further. Next were some examples of the gestures women supposedly liked…… even loved from their men. While the list was only anecdotal, it included the following: Him helping with the dishes, making her coffee in the morning, picking her up at work, taking a walk with her, being quick to say “I’m sorry,” when he’s clearly at fault, and exhibiting his “little boy” when he doesn't know he's being watched.

(ANNOUNCEMENT: Anyone who feels the need, may pull up his or her hip boots whenever this data gets too “deep.” Also, turn down the violin music if it becomes distracting. Oh, and don’t forget, keep shaking that vial of oil and water to see if you can get the two to mix before you reach the end of this post.)

Anyway, while I’m not a researcher, I have lived on this planet for seventy years and observed a substantial number of females during that time. This being true, here’s what I see to be the huge flaw in the “turn-on” examples cited. Instinctively, women seem to like these things SO MUCH, they fail to realize that almost always, every caring gesture their man shows voluntarily becomes a new baseline in the relationship, at least in their mind.

Helping wash dishes, soon becomes, “It’d be nice if sometimes you could dry them, too, and wipe down the counter when you’re finished.”

The sweet act of bringing coffee to her in the morning, pales after a month or so and morphs into, “It’d be nice if sometimes you’d make the bed like you do the coffee.”

The “picking them up at work” thing soon loses its significance as a loving gesture, too, and becomes, “It would have been nice if you’d thought to pick up the dry cleaning on your way over here.”

A peaceful walk together through the neighborhood spawns observations like, “Maybe this weekend you could do something with our front planter and get it to look like that one.”

Accepting their man’s apology for being wrong, turns into something like, “Apologies are nice, but if you tried harder to think before you acted, they wouldn’t be necessary.”

As for loving to watch a man’s inner boy, that seems to get old real quickly. Most men have been told, “This is serious . Quit acting like you’re ten years old and pay attention.”

Beyond the fact that a man’s caring gestures usually become baseline expectations in a relationship, women seem fatally compelled to inject sarcastic remarks into most situations. For example, after washing dishes becomes the new expected standard of behavior, the female can be heard grumbling, “You think you’d figure out where all this stuff goes after doing it for so long,” accenting the comment by rattling pots and pans in the cupboard.

As she gets her wake-up coffee, she might be heard making the comment, “You were late this morning. If you really don’t want to do this, I can get up and make the coffee myself.”

The “being picked up” thing starts getting comments like, “I’ve been standing here forever. Maybe you should keep closer tabs on the clock if we’re going to do this right.”

Verbal subtleties start cropping up during walks, as well. Things like, “Don’t walk so fast. If you’re trying to get this whole thing over with more quickly, just tell me.”

And after receiving yet another apology from her male, a women might well be heard to say, “Just saying you’re sorry doesn’t make the whole thing go away like it never happened.”

Finally, with men who often display their inner boy, in time they begin showing up in the woman’s statistics about children. And, when asked outright how many kids there are in the family, she responds by raising her eyebrows and saying, “Including my husband ?”

Now, lest any female out there think I‘m a disgruntled misogynist purposely assigning blame, I’m not. Conflict between men and women is usually not the conscious choice of either sex. It’s just what happens as the plot of the Heavenly Hoax unfolds. Males and females act exactly as they were programmed way back when fig leaves were in style. That has never changed, and never will. Face it…… our wiring schematics are so different, it’s a wonder we can even say “good morning” without the possibility of resulting controversy.

Finally, consider this last research wrinkle. The study concluded by offering the following disclaimer: “All of these types of turn-ons… (for women)… can enrich and strengthen a relationship. Keep in mind, however, that what’s a turn-on for one woman, may be a turn-off for another.”

Does the complexity and depravity of this hoax never end……?

A Diet That Reflects The Times

Just when I thought I’d heard everything, I learned about a new diet that some folks are trying. Its allure is that it puts absolutely no responsibility on a person to eat less or exercise more. He or she can just sit around the house and slowly the pounds begin to drop away. In a medical sense, the diet is a reflection of today’s societal attitude that one should be able to reap benefits just sitting on his or her ass, while someone else (or in this case, “something else”) does the work.

The diet is simple, at best. One goes on the internet and orders tapeworm cysts harvested from purposely infected cows in some far-off Third World Country. Then the dieter INGESTS said ingredients!!! Soon a parasitic worm hatches and establishes residency in the intestines by attaching itself using hooks and suckers. From then on, losing weight is a downhill battle. The growing tapeworm dines on stolen nutrients ingested by its Lard Ass Landlord, thus causing a weight loss of one to two pounds per week.

Are you freakin’ kidding me? A living, growing creature inside me that can grow up to fifty feet and reproduce by the segment? And when it gets homesick and wants to leave, or I hit my goal weight and no longer need its filching, the only way out, dead or alive, is through my rear exit? Holy hookworms, Batman!! I could lose just as much weight by simply throwing up over such a disgusting thought!

What ever happened to that old fashioned weight loss alternative called the tape MEASURE diet?

When Life Itself Was A Green Movement

You know how sentimental we old-timers are about things from the past, especially those we recognize as part of the fabric of our youth. And you probably know that we are apt to exaggerate how wonderful the “good old days” were compared to today… how simple and pure they seemed in contrast to the present high tech, high energy life one is almost forced to live.

Now, I would hope that no one of good will would begrudge us those rose colored memories, no matter how embellished they may have become over time. However, we oldsters must be careful not to use such reveries to contrast with, then deprecate the life style of today’s younger generation who were born into a much more complex society than we.

In my opinion, that’s what the e-mail I’m sharing today has unintentionally done. Written to make the point that the older generation did less harm to the planet than today’s “enlightened” generation, the writer seems to have missed an important point in his or her attempt to show there was greater environmental integrity way back then. Here’s the e-mail:

In the line at the store, the cashier told an older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment.

The woman apologized to him and explained, "We didn't have the green thing back in my day."

The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment."

He was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled.

But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. But that old lady is right; we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana .

In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us.

When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.

Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she's right; we didn't have the green thing back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water.

We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But we didn't have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service.

We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?

Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smart-alecky young person.

Now, I must admit that when I first read this, my impulse was to yell, “Right on, Older Lady… stick it to that know-it-all, Smart Ass Punk.” But then it hit me. While we old timers did all of what she mentioned, we did it because we HAD TO, not because we had some heightened notion about preserving the planet. In fact, as I mentioned in another post, I don’t think I even heard the words “ecology” or "conservation" until I was in my twenties.

As a kid I can remember pushing the lawn mower over an expanse of lawn on the side of our house that seemed to be the size of a football field. And the older and rustier the mower was, (which describes ours), or the shorter the pusher‘s height (which definitely describes me), the tougher the task. So if someone would have offered me an easier and quicker way to shorten the grass, including dropping off some sheep to graze, I would have gone for it in a second.

I can also remember my Grandma sending me on those seemingly endless treks to Zucchari’s Dairy to get four full quarts of milk in glass bottles. Those buggers seemed to be filled with lead, and I’d have to change carrying arms every twenty or so feet. Not to mention how the handle of the wire basket cut into my delicate, piano practicing hands on the way home. I was so excited and thankful when home delivery began in our neighborhood, by truck.

And I can see my stained fingers after trying to fill my fountain pen with ink despite every attempt at being careful. Not only that, I remember the ink blobs that messed up my written work and forced me to start over after I shook the pen to get the ink flowing through a blocked tip. Man, I would have killed to have one of those disposable Bics they sell today.

While I personally never had to wash clothes, I remember that the process took my Grandma the best part of a day to complete. Though we had a vertical agitator machine, each piece being washed had to be put through the wringer to squeeze out excess water, thus reducing the drying time needed on the clothes line. Then, after returning them in a basket to the third floor apartment, each piece had to be ironed to remove the wrinkles before you could wear it. There was no such thing as, “I need this shirt in fifteen minutes for a hot date.” If that was the case, you were out of luck. Oh, if efficient washers and driers, plus permanent press fabric would only have been around back then,
Grandma would have had far more disposable time, and I might have had a more successful dating life.

My mom would have gone nuts to have Pampers when I was a baby. Out of necessity, she made diapers out of flannel cloth she bought by the yard, then brought home and cut up into the correct sizes to cover my highly active infant waste ports.

And we did have to walk up stairs because there were no escalators to transport us, or walk, ride a bike, or take the bus across longer distances because families like us could not afford the expense of buying and operating an automobile. By the time I was in High School, however, I had my “hot” 1950 Mercury, and probably never again walked any farther than the distance it took me to retrieve it from the garage.

As far as ordering pizza, there was absolutely no need to “search” for it using any advanced devices other than your eyes and your feet. There was one shop I could see from our second floor porch, two Italian restaurants within walking distance that included it on their menu, plus two bakeries I passed on the way home from school that made not only fresh Italian bread, but pizza (on two by three foot baking sheets, no less), that was sold by the slice.

The same goes for the rest of the examples used in the e-mail to infer how environmentally responsible we oldsters were. The truth is, we had little or no choice. We were just living life as we knew it. And, had we magically awakened one morning in a high tech society like we have today, what are the chances even someone like me would have begun writing multiple copies of this post using a fountain pen, then mailed each of you a hard copy using an envelope and three cent stamp?