November 12, 2021 Edition

An Old Photograph Helped Me Realize Who I Have Become

At 53, I am stronger, bolder and wiser than the young woman I used to be.
By Glad Doggett
“Wow, honey, you were beautiful,” my husband said as I entered our bedroom.

He stood there holding a picture frame that usually sits on top of one of our dressers. Years ago, I placed a baby picture of him in the frame in front of a photograph of me. I guess he had no idea. He removed the back of the frame to check the date written on the back of his baby picture so he could compare what he looked like then to how our grandson looks at the same age.

My Turn at Last

Midlife brings a new chapter of unexpected autonomy.
​By Lisa Wathen
 I’m walking down a narrow, paved road that curls its way through some woods near my house, heading toward the river. This is Southeastern Virginia, so even though we’re on the doorstep of November the air is warm and the trees are only beginning to hint that their soft greens might be ready to warm into the brighter shades of autumn.

I take these long walks three or four times a week, though I’d do it every day if I could. I’m especially eager to get outside this time of year, to mark each tiny change as the natural world leans into the season — autumn is late here, yes, but beautiful.  

​It is so fleeting, I cherish every bit of it.

Seriously? Menopause at 43

When matronhood sneaks up on you.
By Monique Barry.
I hadn’t had a period in five months. The first few weeks were kind of nice. I could wear my white underwear. Then I kept thinking I was pregnant. That would have been a miracle on my end given I wasn’t even having sex. That’s how fertile I thought I was. And although I had just turned forty-three, I had just had a baby at age forty-two so in my delusional mind (and dimly lit vanity mirror) I believed I was more likely to get carded at a bar then run out of estrogen. Then I had the first hormone test.

Dr. Khesa, my turban-wearing, white-bearded Sikh doctor emailed me that I was peri-menopausal and that we should discuss it during my next appointment. What an asshole. Shouldn’t that news be presented in person or at least by phone?

Grabbing My Boobs to Make A Point

Botox and sharing reading glasses
By Amy Sea
Last weekend, I went out with some girlfriends I’ve known since grad school, 25 years ago. While handing one of them my reading glasses, the other one said, “Oh my god. We’re at the age that we’re sharing reading glasses.”

“Are we?” I said. “That can’t be right.” But then I looked at my friend putting on my reading glasses, and we were.

“Oh, this is better,” she said, adjusting them. “Now I can actually see the menu.”

​We’re also at the age when one of us has been talking too long, we’re allowed to call “My turn!”

Embracing the Gray and the Road is ... Rocky

 Chic silver sister thing vs. unkempt granny thing.
By Kiki Walter
I blame COVID.

Much like my father before me, I started going gray in my early 30s. Unlike my father before me, who cheekily still referred to himself as “blonde” with a head full of white hair, my stubborn vanity kept me regularly hitting up the salon to freshen up my golden highlights every six weeks or so.

Then I hit 50. Highlights alone weren’t cutting it anymore. My silver-white base now required color first, then highlights. It was becoming much more of a production. When the world came to a pause, this provided the perfect opportunity to test out putting a pause on what was now not just enhancing my hair color, but completely correcting it—for lack of a better term.
​

October 29, 2021 Edition

Pardon My Rant

No, I'm not retired.
​By Mary Lou Heater
It’s official. I’m still cognitively intact. Upon being pronounced, I immediately called my sister in San Diego. Lucky for me her number is programmed into my cell because I couldn‘t have been expected, at my age, to remember all those numbers. Until now.

No, I didn’t just successfully complete the Montreal Cognitive Assessment (MOCA) but within one week, a Gen-X therapist at work, promptly followed by a millennial private advisor at my bank, declared I was still sharp. At my advanced age, I still had my wits about me. Good to know.

On Facing the Autumn of Life

Musings from United Airlines, Flight 1978, Seat 1A​
By Julia E. Hubbel
First Class isn’t my thing, unless United upgrades me. They did, but only on the one hour or so flight from San Francisco, which took off at 6:35 last night, to Eugene. I’m always grateful for a free upgrade, albeit parts of me would prefer an upgrade on my aging and tired body, which feels a lot better this morning than last night as I watched a red sun sink out over the Pacific.

Our Softest Memories

Would we judge our caregivers’ bodies?
By a grain of infinity
​A few days ago, I was reminiscing about a few things I miss from childhood, which got me thinking about the women in my — or, anyone’s — family tree: treasured aunts and great-aunts, grandmothers and great-grandmothers, mothers, older cousins, big sisters.

As I approach my 60th birthday, I finally, finally, am beginning to come to terms with a human body that relentlessly follows science. It reflects the laws of physics (gravity — read into that what you will), biology and genetics (a programmed loss of pigment-producing hair cells), and biochemistry (age-related metabolic changes), to name a few.

Renaissance

A Sonnet
By William Stubblefield
Fragments of the past once filled my mind,
Adolescent complaints from long ago.
Although those petty flames no longer shine,
Their shadows linger in time’s icy glow:

Useless fictions, dreams, desires, lies,
The masks I wore for work, success, protection,
​Love’s nakedness — a lonely man’s disguise --

I Want an El Camino and I Have a Plan

By Jean Campbell
I would never want a PT Cruiser, but it’s a popular car. It screams middle-aged the way a Buick howls “old AF.” I confess I’ve owned mostly Hondas and Toyotas. I love a practical car that holds it value.

In essence, I want to be someone practical who has value, and the right car is the closest I can get to manifesting. At least I’ll resemble a comfortably middle-class, fully employed, ambulatory member of the herd.

But lately I’ve come to admit what I really want: an El Camino, maybe a 1961 or ‘62. A car from an era before it all went to hell in this country. 

October 15, 2021 Edition

Letting Go is The Key to Happiness

Learning to accept a new self-image wasn't easy at first.
By Katharine Esty, PhD
A few weeks ago, the nurse in charge of planning my discharge from rehab announced, “Katharine, you are going to need to use a walker for some time… because of your balance issues and your weak ankle. We just want you to stay safe.”
​
I thought, “No, no, no! Not me, really? I am strong. I can walk very fast. I am not a person who needs a walker.” But all I said was, “Okay.”

Caring for an Aging Parent is an Ever-Changing Dance

Are You Afraid to Die?
Four things to remember as you care for parents.
​By Scott Ninneman
I'm not ...
By Mary McGrath
"Why did you take so much of my money?”  This was my greeting. Her bank statement clutched in her right hand, she glared at me with a mother’s disapproving eyes.

“Hello.” I sighed, but only on the inside. “The money went to pay your bills.”

“My bills shouldn’t be that much.” It was going to be one of those conversations.
Are you afraid to die? I’m not. I have heard many stories about what happens when you die, and apparently it is a very beautiful experience.

The week before my mother passed away, she started seeing people in the room. She'd been battling lung cancer, and her death was imminent.

In the hospital, I watched as she looked up toward the ceiling. There, she claimed to see her first ... 

Freedom to Forget

Morning Coffee with My 92-year-old Mom
Do you really want to remember the past?
By Meryl Baer
Uncovered stories.
​By Carol Shamon
​As we get older and more stuff clogs our mind, new information and experiences shove older material into the far reaches of our brain.

We forget math equations learned in high school, the authors of once-favorite books, the names of fictional characters and perhaps the storyline. We remember lyrics of a song, maybe not the name of the song or the performer(s), something about a movie or TV show, an incident but can’t remember exactly when or where it occurred. 
When I come to visit she always asks if I believe in life after death

I always tell her that I do and she always says that she wishes she did
but thinks there is nothing

Soon we slip into the stories

I’ve heard them many many times 
but never remind her of this

October 1, 2021 Edition

Your Late-Life Crisis is Going to Be a Bitch!

Unlike a midlife crisis, this one has its roots in discrimination.
​By Roger A. Reid, PhD
Remember when the term Midlife Crisis was the most popular phrase in water cooler conversations?  It referred to the inevitable questions that emerge as we approach the mid-point of our lives : what purpose do I serve, and how do I find meaning in my life?

A midlife crisis was purported to be a time for introspection, for exploring the self  --  self-interests, self-motivations, and self-fulfillment. In short, it was a culturally-approved timeout to consider alternatives to our everyday routines — because we’d been there, done that, and it was no longer satisfying.

Five Ways TV Commercials Insult People Over 50

Women get hit hardest, but men take their lumps, too.
By Janice Harayda

The Retirement Revolution Will Not be Televised

What are you rebelling against?
By The Recovering Educator
Americans lampoon the TV commercials of the Mad Men era that portrayed women as happy floor-waxers with a fixation on removing “ring around the collar” from men’s shirts. But have things really changed?

In one way, yes. TV commercials show a much broader cross section of the population than in the past, or people of varied ages, races, cultures, body sizes and sexual orientations.

​One study found that 38 percent of their actors were people of color, compared with 26 percent in 2006. Gay couples have become more common, though they remain relatively rare.
A revolution begins with small acts of rebellion. The revolution that gave birth to the United States began with a few thrown snowballs and harsh words in Boston.

If you're reading this you probably spent much of your youth either participating in or observing acts of rebellion through images delivered by a dumb, black and white, no def, snowy, television tube attractively packaged in a plastic or metal woodgrain box.

We have lived the history so I will skip the obligatory recap of the social upheaval of the 60s and 70s.

Confessions of a Mature Belly Dancer

I just want to dance and have a good time.
By Meryl Baer

Nature's Lullaby

The beguilement of repose
By Deborah Barchi
My dance saga begins at the tender age of four. My mother enrolled me in a ballet class, and like millions of girls before and after me, I spent an hour a week pirouetting and spinning. There was a recital at the end of the year.

Imagine a line of a dozen four- and five-year-old girls struggling to dance together. Perhaps you have suffered through the spectator experience. It can be long and wearying, the doors of the auditorium protected by stern-looking parents should you wish to leave following your performer’s routine.
An afternoon nap
As late summer insects churr — 
Nature’s lullaby.
One of the great things about being retired is the pleasure of an afternoon’s nap. It took me a while to allow myself this comfort; but once I did, I realized what a treasure I had found.

A nap in the middle of the day is more a meditation beneath closed eyes than a deep sleep. Images drift through my mind like a kaleidoscope.

September 17, 2021 Edition

Back To Childhood: The Eternal Return

Reflections on making the final bend around the circle of life.
By K.M. Brown
Old age has often been characterized as a return to childhood, and if it’s that, I’m at the beginning of my second one now. This is the good part, the part where I wake up every morning with nowhere to be that’s not of my choosing, the part where the day stretches gloriously ahead of me like a canvas, waiting for a brushstroke in any color I choose.

​Reflecting on the Rhythm of Life Lessons In the Rear-View Mirror

Why I Never Had Children
Hindsight is always 20/20
By Brenda Cyr
Sometimes I regret it.
By Mary McGrath
The other day I was watching excited kids getting their school supplies. They were full of giggles and had bright eyes as they chose their new pens, books, and pencil cases. They were anticipating their return to school and to start learning new things. Every year of school meant they were moving closer to being grown-up, and they couldn’t wait to get to that magical place.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that many of my friends have children as well as grandchildren. It’s a club that I am not a part of. Sometimes I look at them and I am envious because they have a lineage that will follow them. Descendants will refer to them in the years to come, combing over pictures and other memorabilia.

Maybe Junk Mail is More Valuable Than You Think

When your life has slowed down, waiting for the mail becomes the main event of the day.
By Jackie Madden Haugh
Excited at the thought that someone sent me a present, I clawed my way to the back of the mailbox with feverish hands and sent a pile of bills tumbling to the ground. No sooner did I extract the large carton than disappointment stomped its steel-toed boot on my foot. The bane of every mailbox’s existence had done it again. It was just a piece of junk.

It’s 2021 and My Dad Just Found Out About Seltzer

No, he didn’t try it. He just learned that it existed.
​
By Emily Kingsley
​​My parents are both healthy and alive, but they’re also old enough that a phone call at a strange time quickens my pulse. My dad called me during the middle of the day last week. He works at a college and I work at a high school, so neither one of us is usually free to make personal calls. But when his number popped up, I had a few free minutes. I gulped and answered.

September 3, 2021 Edition

You May Be Ageist If...

Most stories about ageism aren’t written by the aged. This one is.
By Ramona Griggs
As a writer and an old person, I’ve written about aging many times, but I’ve never written an entire piece about ageism itself. I’ve left it alone, I suppose because I thought it was a subject best left to the experts, but who is more expert at aging than someone who has leaped past the aging part and is now at the finish line -- the aged?

When the Future is Loss

 Fear and grief over crises that common sense tells us are on the way.  By Lisa Wathen
Driving south on Highway 13 through Delaware and the eastern shore of Virginia, I was sobbing. Big, gulping sobs. Ugly crying, you know what I mean. On and off, hiccoughing between tear storms, for 45 minutes. I was thinking of my parents, listening to music from my childhood, replaying memories from decades ago, hearing their voices in my head and grieving their loss, the devastating hole their absence means for my entire existence.

I Don't Want a Perfect Life

I'm OK with average.
By Micah Ward
​Every day brings new articles in many media outlets that give instructions on how we can each live our most perfect life. Usually, those articles come with lists: 

The Ten Steps to Achieve This Type of Wonderfulness.

The Eight Phases to Becoming Excellent at Something or Another.

Five Rules for Attaining this Great Thing or That Greater One

My Retirement Didn’t Go As Smoothly As I Thought It Would

I learned a lot of lessons  that first year.  By Ruby Lee
Since tomorrow is the first day of school here in my town, it has me reflecting on my thirty-two-year career in education. It was a good run while it lasted, but you know the old saying, “all good things must come to an end.”

I was excited to retire, but once the euphoria of not going to work wore off, I got pretty bored. I read a lot of books, but even that got old quickly.
​

I'll Sleep When I'm Old

No, you won't. But you'll have a lot of conversation about it with your spouse.  By Jean Campell
“How’d you sleep?”

“Great! I only got up twice to pee, and slept all the way till 5 a.m.!”

“Wow! That’s good.”

“What about you?”

“Meh. The usual.”

This is the scintillating dialogue that may rule.

August 20, 2021 Edition

Aging Brings Goodbyes

But also hellos.
By Robin James
Oh, to move like I did when I was young, with the grace and ease of a new body bursting with energy. Now my body is tired. Gravity has slithered its ghostly tendrils up my frame and pulled me down. This relentlessness has worn me out and created a world where I’m now aware of how I move carefully, gingerly, over uneven ground.

Twilight Years

What Happened to the Passion?
Wait, what twilight years?
​By Linda C. Smith
It's time to rekindle the wild spirit of youth.
By Brenda Cyr
I was tiptoeing through the news headlines the other evening when I saw something that referred to a person’s retirement as his or her twilight years. Oh, why was I tiptoeing through the news? Let me explain that before I continue.

Stuff: You Can't Take It With You

​Your kids wouldn’t be caught dead with it.
By Judy Millar
I’ve arrived in my seventies with SO MUCH baggage.
Do you want a Suzanne Somers’ ThighMaster? You’re in luck. This contraption hasn’t been compressed by my quivering thighs since circa 1990, but it regularly jams up my closet door. It’s yours for the taking.
Remember the sixties and seventies? Love-ins, sit-ins, great music, long hair and bell-bottoms? I remember it as a time of discovery and rebellion. We challenged everything we didn’t understand. The world was changing, and we were in charge. ​

The Joy of 71

And it's not just about sex.
By David Martin
This is not a paean to aging or a discourse on why we should treasure our so-called “golden years.” I’m not a glass-half-full kind of guy so I’m not a great candidate for penning such a work. After all, I’m already suffering the ravages of time. 

August 6, 2021 Edition

​It’s Time to End the Ageist Cultural Misconception of Retirement

Am I retired? Please stop asking.
​By Roger A. Reid, PhD
It happened again.
This time, I was at the gym, resting on one of the benches between sets. Without warning, it came right out of the blue , the same question I receive at least once a month: “You’re retired, aren’t you?”

I Have No Memory of That

Time
The necessity of forgetting.
By Laura Culberg
​Last night I got together with four of my best friends. We gathered to celebrate one of our birthdays. We’re all in our fifties now  —  some more solidly than others. We’re tamer than we once were, choosing mocktails... 
You may have more of it left than you think.
By Joe Thomas
​For most of my life I have had a bad understanding of time. Not that I can’t tell time, or that I don’t know how many days there are in a year, but in a more profound sense.

Sex in the Sixties

Or whatever decade you find yourself in.
By Catherine Dunn
Sex in the sixties. I know there was lots then, but not for me. I was a toddler at the beginning of that decade. Sex in my sixties. That’s what I’m talking about. It’s good. 

Open letter: On Reaching Level 50

I have now reached Level 50 in Life Diety System. And I have a complaint.  By Karl Hodge
Dear Deity Systems,
I have been playing your game, “Human Life,” for some time, but I am starting to think it may be broken.

July 23, 2021 Edition

Knowing When to Retire

Socks did it for me.
By Barry Knister
     As always before my first morning class, I’m sitting in my swivel chair in my office sipping coffee. I cross my legs and see for the first time — the first time I can remember — that I’m wearing mismatched socks.

They aren’t disturbingly mismatched — orange with purple, say, or green with heliotrope. One’s navy, the other dark gray. But there they are, mismatched socks sprouting up from my shoes as someone’s ring tone goes off outside my open door.

Hypersensitivity to Ageism

Is this a typical phase of aging?
By Dana Dobson

Shifting Gears in My Seventies

It’s okay to let bucket lists go with no regrets.
​By Carole Olsen
​     My 65th birthday is in August, and I’m in fierce denial that I’m “old.” The outside world, however, tells me otherwise — pretty much daily now — through innocent words and actions. I continue to take umbrage, but I pretend not to notice.

But I do keep inventory on what people say and do, allowing their commentary to grind away in my head.    

An Octogenarian Speaks

So listen up, kids.
​By Tom Phillips
   I read the stories in Crow’s Feet because I like to know what younger people are thinking. Right now there seems to be a wave of anxiety among Baby Boomers, as you turn 60 or 70.

I turned 79 and 1/2 this week, and decided since I’m closer to my 80th birthday than any other, I’ll just be 80. It’s the age of Wisdom. 
     A few days ago, I was planning to climb Mt La Conte in Tennessee for a second time. It didn’t happen. What did happen was that I admitted to myself I didn’t like to tent camp anymore.

For the past two years, I have left camping trips early, making excuses, “it’s too cold, it’s rainy, or I’ve done all I can do here.”

​I Just Turned 60: I Didn’t Wake Up Dead Today

And that's a great start to my birthday!
By Charles H. Roast
     Yes, my lovelies. I turned 60 today. I am alive and sorta kicking. Well, I was when I wrote this last night. But, hey! That’s what we old folks call an optimistic attitude. I am optimistic that I will wake up tomorrow morning alive and achy from all the old people pain I have.

They say old is a “state of mind.” 

July 9, 2021 Edition

What a Mature Woman Learned From a Navy Seal

​Embrace the suck and become a “Beast.”
By Julie Ranson

Do you have to be a beast every day? Yes. Yes, you do.
​
What is a beast? Historically, calling a person a beast denoted something negative like they’re rude, crude, and unacceptable. But more contemporary jargon employs the descriptive term, beast, as a compliment for someone who performs at the highest levels.
​
So, indeed, you should be a beast every day. I learned incredible lessons about being a beast when I read Embrace the Suck by Brent Gleeson, a bonafide Navy Seal.

What Is It With Young Women and Grey Hair in Stock Photos?

Please stop usurping our silver locks.
By Carol Lennox
I search for pictures of lovely older women with silver hair for a story I’m writing about, you guessed it, older women. Write what you know. Right?

How are women my actual age represented in stock photos on a platform that shall remain nameless because of licensing with another platform I would never intentionally offend? As overly wrinkled crones. Seriously. Go check it out. I’ll wait.

Are You an Online Senior Dating?

Meet My First Companion, Lorem Ipsum.
​By Lee J. Bentch
I signed up with an online dating app for Seniors. It’s a fun learning experience. I figured out how to swipe left, swipe right, clap, smile, connect up, have an excellent time, break up, move on, all the exciting things associated with getting out there again.
​
It’s been a few years since my wife passed. I figured it’s time to stretch my arms and get social again.

You Might Be Retired If...

How to spot a retiree.
By David Martin
Comedian Jeff Foxworthy has made a nice living from his shtick “You might be a redneck if…….” As in, “You might be a redneck if you’ve been married three times and still have the same in-laws.”
​
What Mr. Foxworthy has done for rednecks, I’d like to do for retired guys. As a retired guy, I’ve begun to notice that most of us have similar traits, characteristics and lifestyles. Thus, you might be retired if:

My Young Visitor Said Her Mother Was Old

Her mother is my age, but I knew what she was saying.
By Ruby Lee
Everyone has heard the old saying. You know the one that goes, “Age is nothing but a number.” Well, tell that to my knees!

But I know what it is supposed to mean. You see plenty of seniors who are young at heart, and then you see the seniors who are just old and like being old. My son invited a young couple to our house on the 4th of July.

June 25, 2021 Edition

Wrinkle Free? That's Not Me

Wrinkles are badges we have earned.
​By ​​Margie Hord de Mendez
 Once, when I was in my 40’s, a photographer took my picture for a passport, and upon seeing the results, I hardly recognized that person! Before the days of Photoshop, he had smoothed out my face to remove the expression lines. My reaction: That’s not me!

We don’t usually love our wrinkles and, since then, I’ve collected a few more… or the same ones have deepened. Yet, that experience made me realize that at the same time, like our often-undercover gray hairs, they are badges we’ve earned. They tell a story.

Challenged to Honor the “In Sickness” Part 

It might come sooner than you think.​
​By ​Marie A. Bailey
     In February 2001, I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. I was 43 and scared shitless of cancer. My husband was scared too, but kept it to himself for the most part. I was freaking out. Somebody had to stay calm and it was him. That March, I underwent a total abdominal hysterectomy as treatment. Fortunately, my recovery was swift and uneventful.

I'm Retired and I Don't Want to Travel

There, I've said it. I don't want to travel.
​By Orrin Onken
I don’t want to buy an RV and see the country. I don’t want to visit the Galapagos. I don’t want to cruise the rivers of Europe. 

​I recently retired from practicing law. I liked working. I ran my own office, got to do things my way, and earned a lot of money. But it was always work, and I never mistook it for anything else

Ageless Love

A poem.
​By ​Jaylee Reign
​antiquated love
memories of eras past
teetering precariously on life’s edge
yet still I turn on
for those who notice
my fine form
hidden in dusty corners

I'm Going to Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair

And send him on his way. Mitzi Gaynor in South Pacific​
​By Carol Lennox ​​
My mother was a lover of musicals. Specifically, sappy musicals full of love songs. South Pacific had love songs galore, but it wasn’t sappy.

June 10, 2021 Edition

Does Life Get Easier With Age?

Or do challenges just change?
​By Tess Wheeler 
​We live in such a youth-orientated world, we’re often made to feel past our sell-by dates as we hit middle-age and beyond. Popular culture is mainly aimed at people in their teens and twenties. The media, fashion, music, and leisure — by fifty-plus, we’re no longer the target audience.​

Stepping Stones

By Carol Price
I chose to walk across the stepping stones.
​I carefully placed one foot in front of the other as I crossed the living water. There was a slight wobble from time to time, but that’s OK. No one is expected to get it entirely right on every occasion.

My Journey to Accepting my Age 

What will your journey be? 
By Nancy Peckenham
​When I turned 58 years old it hit me. I could no longer deny I was getting old. My younger son graduated from high school that year and I was already sealing off empty rooms at home. I had just sold my small online news business and I had no plans to start another venture. I secretly wanted to be hired by an established media outlet that would value my experience, but I knew that was never to be.

It's the Little Moments

By Joe Wheeler
​If you look at the pictures on the walls of peoples homes, you would assume that it’s the big events that matter. You may see pictures that commemorate the birth of a child, that child’s first steps, the year they won the science fair competition, etc. You may see wedding pictures and graduation pictures...

Must Our Sex Lives Die Before We Do? 

Sex doesn’t have to stop after any age but recognizing and responding to its challenges is necessary
By David Mokotoff
​“Do you believe in same sex marriage?” a man was asked. “Of course I do,” he responded. “I have been married to the same woman for 40 years and we have been having the same sex for all of those years” This old joke takes on more significance as we age.