Forever Young

What age are you? No, I am not asking how old you are. I am asking, what is your internal age? What age are you in your head when you think of yourself? The forty-two year old character in The Gum Thief by Douglas Coupland claims, “It’s usually thirty to thirty-four. Nobody is forty in their head. When it comes to your internal age, chin wattles and relentless liver spots mean nothing.”

I am not asking how old you look when you look in the mirror. Forget about that lying visage. The lights are too bright and the images too sharp. Think darker. Think smokier. Think inside your head.

Twenty-two. That’s the age at which I live in my head. I think that there is a Sinatra song about it. “When I was twenty-two / it was a very good year.” Unfortunately any reference to Frank Sinatra is not a positive age reference. It certainly dates me.

When I think about myself, I first notice my hair. It is forever dark brown and bountiful. It flops across my forehead like an early Beatles haircut. (Another dated reference.) And it is with that hair that at age twenty-two I was in my prime. I had just finished my first year of law school and my grades were good. I was going to make it in the lawyer world.

And I was about to get married. I was crazy in love and looking forward to many years of marital bliss. Life was great. You can see it in the wedding pictures. Just notice my hair! At age twenty-two my life was filled with newness, excitement and possibility. Isn’t that the way life should always be?

Forever young. It is the youth in me that carries me forward. It is the innocence, the naiveté, the bravado that only the young possess. Bob Dylan captured it best in “Forever Young:”

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

What age are you?

Leaf Wars

I am ready for them this year. I have always been prepared, but this year I have changed the readiness status to “High Alert.” This year I will win.

I’m talking about leaves, and not just any leaves. I am talking about those sneaky kamikaze leaves from the Norway Maple and the Oak tree near my hot tub. They have spent all year since their budding last spring to find a way to infiltrate my hot tub. I will not have it!

I used to have a love affair with leaves. Check out my essay “The Burning Shirt.” But my raking days are now over, and these new pilot leaves are taunting me and trying to make my life miserable – even more miserable than it usually is.

Here’s the problem. If I take a nice long soak in my hot tub on a breezy day, the leaves try to join me. They do not combine to increase the water quality. They are the enemy.

Today was a particularly bad day with large gusts. So I got in there and assumed the position. I stood naked in the middle of the tub in my best defensive karate position. I don’t know any karate positions but I have seen enough kung fu movies. I fought off the incoming salvos of those persnickety pesky perpetrators.

My wife says that the sight of me alone should be enough to scare them away. I am not sure about that. I think that I need more.

After dark I am going to go out there again. I will turn the flood lights on the trees to illuminate their pernicious off casts. And I will light the glowing blue of the hot tub so as to back light me in my warrior glory. A scuba mask and shield of some sort will protect me. I will bay at them. Those twirling last twists of dying protoplasm will know that I mean business!

Victory is mine!

Thanksgiving by ESPN

Thanksgiving is traditionally a time to express gratitude. We say thank you for all that we have. In my house we are especially thankful for all the cooking done by my wife. But saying thank you is not enough and this year I want to do more.

Preparation of the holiday feast falls on my wife’s shoulders, as in many American households. I am determined to lighten her burden this year and I have signed up as her official assistant. In past years I have helped here and there, but this year I really want to be there for her. I want to be her Sous Chef – no, I want to be her Do Chef. Whatever she needs done, I will do it. Whatever. Whenever. I will be there.

And I don’t want her to have to be calling to me all day and begging me to do stuff. So I have devised a fool proof system which will build on the strength of our long term marriage.

She is going to send her instructions to me by mental telepathy and I will receive them using Extra-Sensory Perception (ESP.) In my house we call this ESPN because it is an acronym that is easier for me to remember. She will think, “I need him to mash the potatoes,” and I will leap from my seat in front of one of the three football games that are on today and run to the kitchen to complete the task. The ESPN will run in only one direction because I do not want her to hear what I think or say to myself when she sends me instructions. It is hard to be filled with gratitude for an entire day.

Another important aspect to this new system is that it has been set up to be an experiment because we will need scientific evidence that it works. Therefore, my wife cannot supplement her mental instructions with verbal ones. If by some chance I miss one of her messages during a really important play, then in that one instance she will have to carry on alone.

At the end of the day we are going to review the results. I may not be home by then so we will do it by telephone conference. If I were home her verbal report might have interference from all that ESPN stuff still floating around. And I want this to work well for her. It is all about her.

I just know this is going to be one big success. I can’t wait for Christmas. I wonder what games will be on?

Social Networking

Warning: I am about to reveal my ignorance. Many would say it is not for the first time.

Do you remember the old AT&T phone commercials with “reach out and touch someone?” They were trying to get us to use our telephones more and the add was effective. I am expecting that any day now the “new” AT&T will come out with an ad with the tag line “reach out and touch everyone constantly.” Because that is where the world is heading.

Ease of communication has exploded with the cell phone and the internet. And now the internet is available on your cell phone, so that the world is with you at all times, if you want it to be.

I remember back in the olden days when the new ability to send and receive an email was very exciting. I liked that type of communication better than the telephone. I could pause and consider, maybe for a day, before answering. The interaction was in my control and on my terms.

But the old email was not good enough for many people. AOL began an online “buddy” system. AOL would inform you when your buddy was online and you could exchange emails your buddy. It was closer to real time connection. I never wanted to be anyone’s buddy.

Next came IM, or instant messaging. I have never done IM. All I know is that school kids did it constantly when they were suppose to be doing their homework. And there were chat rooms. All of this let people stay in touch with their friends.

And cell phones became more and more prevalent. And minutes became cheaper and more available so people used them more. And don’t forget text messaging. That’s where you tediously type short messages to others on your cell phone – not unlike the buddy system.

A new term, “social networking” was born. More modern online versions of social networking include Facebook and MySpace. I actually am a member of MySpace so that I can get announcements about my son’s band. I don’t use it for any thing else. Once in awhile I get emails through MySpace from young women who will be in my area soon and want to meet me. I think that they are probably selling Girl Scout cookies.

Lately social networking has gone mobile. You can now keep up with all of your friends or network from your mobile phone. You can even track where they are. One service will let you receive real time restaurant reviews with pictures from your friends and tell you whether they are in the restaurant or on the street outside. That is how good the locating service is. You can walk around and know the locations of all of your friends who want to be known. And they can always find you. You can always be in touch

I suppose all of this is wonderful, but I don’t know why. Why would I want people to know where I am? Why would I want them to be able to get in touch with me instantly? Why would I want to look at their pictures? I just barely tolerate talking to people on the phone. Why would I submit myself to all these other invasions of privacy?

I am missing something here. Millions of people are making use of the new social networking technology. My son sends 3000 text messages per month! To whom? About what? I just don’t get it.

And what does that say about me? It says that I am a crotchety, old, boring, introverted loner. This new technology is not being built for me. I am not the prime demographic here. Yes, I am missing something. But am I missing out?

Please, let me know what is going on here.

Donuts Make Scents

I have been looking for the connection between donuts and sex for a long time now. I intuitively knew there had to be a point of intersection, but my decades long search proved fruitless and stale until now.

My love affair with donuts began at a very young age. The dentist made me do it. Our family dentist, a high school friend of my father, was in Ball Square in Somerville, Massachusetts. Typically we would make the trek on Saturday morning for the torture session (a long and painful story for another day.) The reward for going was a trip across the street to Gail Ann’s Donuts. I can see, smell and taste the jelly donut, and the honey dipped, and the chocolate covered, and the lemon, and the powdered sugar and the cinnamon sugar, and the glazed cruller. My eyes are glazing over as I think about it.

A sugar high cannot be beat. It has helped propel me through most of my life. A couple of years ago friends and I made a pilgrimage to the newly opened Krispy Creme store. I stood in line watching the donuts glide down the conveyer belt to the waterfall of liquid sugar. I can still feel it in my body. I just wanted to jump over the rail and insert my head and mouth under that waterfall. Ohhhhhh boy!

So it came as no surprise to me when the findings were published for a study on the “Various Aromas Found to Enhance Male Sexual Response” by the Smell and Taste Treatment and Research Foundation of Chicago. The second place winner was a combination of donuts and black licorice. I do not know what the licorice is all about, but I certainly know about the donuts. It just proved what I already knew. Truthfully, it completed my life. Donuts are an aphrodisiac – the poor man’s Viagra.

By the way, the first place winner was a combination of pumpkin pie and lavender. There is historical evidence that proves the accuracy of this finding. Who were the first settlers of America? Pilgrims. What did they eat at the first Thanksgiving? Pumpkin pie. How many Pilgrims were there? Not many. How many Americans are there now? 301,139,947 – I looked it up. How did we get from fewer than 100 to 301,139,947? Pumpkin pie. It could not have been donuts because Dunkin’ Donuts did not begin until 1950.

I am keeping these findings a secret in my house. I want to make sure that my wife still makes her famous Pumpkin Chiffon Pie for the holidays. And I promise not to ruin my Thanksgiving meal by filling up on too many donuts. Maybe.

Yellowstone

We spent last night in West Yellowstone, Montana, a great little tourist town. We headed into the park early and were quickly stunned by the ride in. Within the first hour we had seen a bald eagle in a nest, a mother elk with her baby lying beside the river, and a small herd of bison including many babies. What a great start.

One of our first stops was a geyser basin. I suggested that they were named after me - as in “guy”ser. My wife thought that “geezer” was closer to the truth. I saw all 4 types of thermal features: geyser, hot spring, fumarole and mud pot. I only can write this because I looked it up again in my little book. My mind can no longer hold so much new information at once. I can say that all four involve hot water. I also saw a “bacteria mat.” I did not get too close. I don’t know what it is. It sounds bad. “Fumarole” - I think that it really is a type of pasta or Italian soup - or maybe a smelly roll.

As usual, I think it is always about me. There was even a street sign about me. The sign said “Caution Wildlife on Road.” That’s me! I am having a wild life on the road.

We attended a Junior Ranger presentation, just my speed. It was about horns and antlers. Did you know that there are 4 types of animals in the park with horns and four with antlers? And only one sex has antlers, but I forget which one. And you can tell the difference between male and female horns? I knew all of this and more for about 5 minutes but I have already forgotten all of it. Memory loss is a new way of living in the moment. I could go back to the same presentation tomorrow and enjoy it because I would be learning it all anew.

I spent most of my day buying t-shirts for myself. I pretended to enjoy Old Faithful and the tour of the Old Faithful Inn, but really my mind was on t-shirts. At this rate I may have a whole new wardrobe by the time I get home.

Living Variously

The great affair, the love affair with life,
is to live as variously as possible,
to groom one's curiosity like a high-spirited thoroughbred,
climb aboard, and gallop over the thick, sun-struck hills every day.

Where there is no risk, the emotional terrain is flat and unyielding,
and, despite all its dimensions, valleys, pinnacles, and detours,
life will seem to have none of its magnificent geography, only a length.

It began in mystery, and it will end in mystery,
but what a savage and beautiful country lies in between.

~ Diane Ackerman ~


("found poetry" from A Natural History of the Senses)


I sat sleepily in front of the computer screen deleting the spam in an early morning fog. How many Rolexes and doses of Cialis and Viagara does one need? How many times can I lower my mortgage rate? While acting as my own anti-spam agent, I almost deleted the daily poem that comes to me from someone named Joe Riley whom I do not know. Sometimes I read them but often they seem like an imposition on my busy day. It is not so much that I am really busy, but I just like to hurry. Hurrying makes me feel important. So I often delete these poems, these bits of fluff that are meant to uplift but most often do the opposite, before they ever see the light of day.

I must have been in an expansive mood that morning. I must have felt like my little world could possibly take something in and learn from it. Or maybe it was the title of the email: “The great affair.” “Affair” is always a promising word. So I clicked on the email and opened up to this poem.

“Yes!” I shouted to no one. I knew what this poem was talking about. It was not an “Eureka!” moment when you figure out the answer that you have been searching for. It was more of a confirmation of a lesson that I have been learning over the last six months. It was a concept that I had stumbled on through experience, not through books or words. I had been trying to put the right words to the experience, but I had not been doing it well. Here, in the poem, were the words.

Six months ago I started my RV adventure. It took me to many places and experiences and added energy and vigor to my life. In some ways it made no sense. Before that time I would have told you that I did not like to travel and that I did not like to drive. Both statements were true. And then all of a sudden I was off on these adventures and I did not know why. I just knew that I had to go. And the result was a very jazzed life that I loved.

And here in this poem were the words for it. I was living “as variously as possible.” What a great phrase! The key to what I was doing was not the content. It was the variety. As the poem says, I was grooming my curiosity. I was excited about all kinds of things. I was happy.

I have spent many years looking for the key to happiness. I always thought that if I found just the right combination of activities, then I would just repeat them and I would be happy forever. I must boast about my success in this venture. Over and over I found a set of activities to make me happy – to make me want to get up in the morning. So I would repeat them, but quickly the bloom would die. And I would stagnate. I would be left unhappy, bored and eventually depressed. At some point I would be off looking for a new set of activities, but the result would always be the same. Each time my success was short lived.

I am now living in one of those bored and stuck places again. As the cold weather has settled in, the RV season has ended. Campgrounds in the Northeast have closed, so my RV is shut down and I have shut down with it. But this poem has reminded me of the new lesson that I have learned. It is not about the activities themselves. It is about the process. For me it is about grooming my curiosity which had lay dormant for so many years. It is about following new paths to new adventures. But it is not about either the paths or the adventures. It is about the “following,” the moving, the flow, and the newness.

To live “variously.” That is my challenge. I found a way to do that through my RV. Now I must find a way to do it beyond the RV. I have no idea where it will take me. Wish me luck.