You Must Be A Baby Boomer If You Remember When...

Helms Bakery Truck

•  You couldn't shop on Sundays.  Everything was closed (markets, gas stations, stores, pharmacies, etc.) so that you could spend the day with your family or simply have a day to just relax and/or play
• Trucks would come down the street playing tunes and delivering baked goods or ice cream.  If you grew up in L.A., like I did, you'll remember the delictable aroma that permeated the air when Helms Bakery was baking.
• Movies cost a quarter for children, 50 cents for adults, and the butter on the popcorn was real
• You could walk down the street with no fear that anyone would try to harm you
• You left your back door unlocked
• Milk, eggs, cottage cheese, and the mail were delivered directly into a slot in your house
• Clothes were air-dried on a line outside
• You walked to and from school, even if it was miles away from your home
• There were only three channels on TV, but there was always something good to watch
• You remember when the first rocket into space was launched and watched when a man walked on the moon for the first time
• All TVs were black & white, and you had to actually walk up to the TV to change the channel
• You could make an appointment for an exact time with the phone company and they would show up on time.  There was only one phone company and you rented their phone for $5 a month -- and that was the full bill
• Stamps were 5 cents
• People were polite
• When you said "Thank you," people responded, "You're welcome," and meant it
• Gas was 25 cents a gallon and it was pumped by an attendant who also cleaned your windows, and checked your oil and tire pressure
• There were no tip jars
• Newscasters reported the news, not their opinions.  I still miss Walter Concrite (I had no idea what his political beliefs were until he retired).
• News opinions were saved for the opinion page of the newspaper
• Schools had a dress code
• You sang Christmas songs with great joy in celebration of the holidays whether you were Christian or not, while never feeling you were somehow being excluded
• Doctors knew your whole family and made house calls.
• You didn't need medical insurance to get good medical care
• Medical insurance companies actually insured you -- their deductibles meant something (I remember, when I was in my early 20s, going to the hospital and paying nothing for surgery and a two-day stay)
• You actually believed what politicians were telling you
• You remember when John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Bobby Kennedy were killed
• You remember the first time you heard The Beatles or The Doors
• No one had a computer
• Everyone left home without a cell phone because -- wait, can it be true? -- there was no such thing as a cell phone.  You could actually be out of contact with everyone for hours on end
• When you went to a ball game, you stood for the Pledge of Allegiance, hand over your heart, and sang with everyone else.  You didn't have to stand silently listening to someone else sing it for you
• "Made in America" meant it was the best quality in the world
• There was no war -- NO, WAIT... I've been singing "Let Their Be Peace On Earth," since I was a little girl, and I've yet to know a time when the United States wasn't at war with someone :-(

If anyone reading this wants to add more things they remember from a simpler time, please share

What You Do Speaks So Loudly I Can't Hear A Word You're Saying

 "Standing in a garage doesn't make you a car anymore than going to church makes you religious."

Now, you may wonder why that particular quote.  It's simple:  I just love it and to me it speaks of people who say they are one thing while their actions say something else.

Years ago, when I started my nonprofit for grieving children, I went to a special event for charitable organizations.  While seated at a table to publicize my organization, a woman came by.  Upon reading the poster describing what we did, she clutched her fists to her chest, and said, with much pathos, "I feel too much and I care too deeply to ever do that."  As she fled from our table, I turned to the colleague seated to my left and said, "As opposed to those of us who feel nothing, don't care at all, and do it."

The woman didn't fool me.  She was only interested in her own feelings. Had she truly cared, she would be compelled to act.

This brings me to people who abandon their loved ones at the end of life because it is "too hard for [them]" or they "don't want to remember [their] mother, father, sister, brother, friend, that way."  They are not more caring or more sensitive than those of us who drop everything and show up.  They are focused only on their own feelings and not considering what their presence would mean to the person dying.  I want to be kind and say they are weak or it really is too much for them.  But not one of us finds it easy to watch someone we love die.  And it is even more difficult when we are the ones watching our loved one struggling to hold on to life as he or she waits to say good-bye to the adult child who will never come.

I want to say this to all of you who think you can't be at the bedside of your dying relative:  Go.  Please go.  It isn't easy, but if you don't go, you miss the opportunity to be present at a truly sacred moment.  You'll  like yourself a whole lot more if you know you did the right and loving thing.

Money-Free Guaranteed Way to Smooth Away All Your Wrinkles

Dying.

Yes, you read right:  I said, "Dying."

This year I've been at the bedside of countless people at the end of their lives and the one consistent thing I've observed is their beautiful, wrinkle-free skin.

I hate to think that I have to wait until I'm almost dead to have young skin again.  Seeing people so close to taking their last breath makes me realize how silly it is to worry about wrinkles.   I am fortunate to be able to get out of bed in the morning, take a look at my wrinkling face, and go out and experience another day of life.  Yes, there are wrinkles, especially around my mouth, but I can use those crinkled lips to give you a smile that will brighten your day.  I can use that mouth to make you laugh, make you feel good, or just to simply say, "Thank you," "I'm sorry," or "I love you."

I'll take the wrinkles.  I'm in no hurry to be on my deathbed.

My Dad in Black & White

Ever since I was 12, my father has been visually no more than a black and white photo.  Despite existing  solely in this physical image, his emotional and spiritual presence has guided my life.

Once he was dead, he became the always loving father I could go to for consultation and comfort on any subject.  He never yelled or criticized.  He didn't live long enough to be challenged by my teenage rebellion.

He also never hugged me or kissed me as I grew from child to teen to woman.  He never attended my graduations from junior high, high school, or college.  He never walked me down the aisle.  I didn't miss him at those times and it wasn't until I reflected back years later that I realized I hadn't noticed his absence.  His absence was simply the way life was so I didn't expect him to be there and never felt gypped.

I am now approaching the anniversary of his death.  I always remember the day he died and am probably the only one who does.  But some anniversaries are more significant:  the first, fifth, tenth, and every following decade. 
This anniversary is unique and cries out for attention.  The reason:  my father has been dead for as many years as he lived.  He died at 48 and this Friday, November 20th, it will be 48 years since his death.

Forever young.

Someone Stole My Excuses

Last night all my excuses for the jiggly thighs and hips, stomach pooch, and flapping triceps, were stolen from me by my friend, Susan.  Susan and I are the same age -- well, she is a little younger, by a whopping four months.  There she was in her golf skirt with nary a wrinkly knee and not a drop of cellulite in sight.  Her arms look good, her face looks young, and she has an enthusiasm for life that is contagious. 
How does she do it?
The old-fashioned way:  she works hard and plays hard.  Exercise is part of her life.  Yesterday was one of her relaxed days:  only 18 holes of golf, a bike ride, then a dinner party.  I've known days where she's played two sets of tennis, taken a 50-mile bike-ride, and followed that with 18 holes of golf.
To say she's in great shape would be a serious understatement -- she's in fabulous shape.
If she weren't such a wonderful person, I'd have to hate her for stealing my excuses.  So it's back to the Wii and the 30-day killer challenge, rather than the random program I can select that won't push me to the point of feeling my achy muscles tomorrow.
So ache I must.  All in the service of getting myself back into great shape.
I guess it will feel better to thank Susan than to hate her.

Why Do We Need Medical Insurance?

The focus is all wrong!  We don't need medical insurance, we need to eliminate the middle man by getting rid of the medical insurance companies.

When I was a child, we didn't need medical insurance.  Our doctors made house calls and neither they nor hospitals charged such exhorbitant rates that an operation would break a family's finances.

When I was in my twenties,thirties, and yes, even forties, my medical insurance made sense. In my twenties, I I had surgery, and my insurance covered everything.   Then came co-pays:  they used to mean that when I went to the doctors or had a procedure, I paid the $35 co-pay and that was it.  The insurance company paid the rest.  Not so today.  Today, the co-pay is just the first payment of continuing charges.

And let's talk about deductibles.  Even my car insurance still knows what that is.  For my car, if I have a $500 deductible, I pay that amount and then the insurance company pays the rest.  Not so with my health care.  I have no idea what the deductible means today.  I met the $2,000 co-pay months ago, and I am still paying through the nose.  Add to that, the insurance company decides whether medications my doctor deems in my best interest should be covered or not.  And even worse, they've upped my insurance by almost $300 a month while continuing to decline services.

Here's a good one.  The insurance company proudly says that they care about my health and I'm allowed a free annual mammogram.  Free apparently means that I pay the total bill -- all $1,400, after the hospital, upon realizing the insurance company wouldn't pay, reduced their bill.  The insurance company always boasts how much of a reduction they've managed to get for me and the truth is, we could eliminate this useless third-party, not have the high monthly payments, and negotiate directly with our doctors and medical facilities to get our bills reduced.

The insurance companies are useless blood suckers.  Younger people have no idea what good medical care is and what good medical insurance is.  What we have now is a system so broken the only thing that would help is to simply get rid of the leeching medical insurance companies.

Do I sound upset?  You bet I am.  I was on medicine that required weekly blood tests to make sure I wasn't going to bleed to death.  The insurance company proudly said that thanks to them my weekly cost was reduced from $50 to $25.  The catch:  they were only paying $3 and I had to pay the rest.  I'm so glad I get to keep paying them almost $800 a month before I have to pay the medical bills which they barely cover.

Politicians:  Listen up.  We don't need the insurance companies.  We need good medical care!

The One And Only Secret to Anti-Aging

Die young.

Passing By Normal

When I was in my twenties  I went into therapy (something that wasn't done by too many back then) with the hopes that I could become normal.

I worked really hard on myself and one day, voila, I made it to "normal."

I immediately saw it for what it was -- lots of really messed up people all tryng to be like everyone else.

I then decided that I didn't want to be normal: I wanted to be me.

And so it has been ever since. It's not always an easy thing to do because traveling to one's own drummer means there will be people who don't understand and there will be times you find yourself not thinking about things the way most people do.

And that's okay.

I certainly am not like everyone else, but then again, who really is?

P.S.  The benefit of just being yourself with everyone:  When people love you, you know it is the real you (the one who lives inside) that is being love. 

Are You Trusting A Scorpion?

We've all had friends we trusted and loved. Friends we found out, only after they'd hurt us, weren't really our friends.

What I learned late in life was to pay attention to what people do. There's a saying, "Your actions are speaking so loud that I can't hear a word that you're saying." So despite the nice words your "friend" may be saying that lull you into believing they truly are your friend and deserve your loyalty, pay attention to what they do. There are just some people who are going to hurt you no matter how nice, generous, or wonderful you are to them.

Here's the story of the Scorpion and the Turtle.


A scorpion came up to a turtle who was standing at the side of a river and asked, "Will you let me ride on your back across the river?"

"You want to ride on my back?" the scorpion asked, incredulously. "If I let you ride on my back you'll sting me and I will die."

The scorpion, in soothing tones, responded, "Of course I won't do that. I just want to get across the river and if I sting you, we'll both die."

This sounded reasonable to the turtle, so he said, "That makes sense. Hop on."

When they reached the center of the river, the scorpion stung the turtle. "Why did you do that?" the turtle screamed, as they began to sink.

"I couldn't help myself," responded the scorpion. "it's my nature."

Life's Too Short to Always Be On A Diet

After having a delicious and calorie laden meal, the realization hit that life is simply too short to always be on a diet. What's the point of never eating anything you love just because it might add a pound? As I once said to my doctor, when chocolate was considered bad for you, "I think if I gave up chocolate, it would only seem like I lived longer." He said I was probably right.

I think I've been on some sort of food watch ever since I was a teenager and felt awkward and bigger than a hippopotamus. Everyone was dieting, even those I thought were skinny. They went to their doctors who injected them with something like sheep piss. I couldn't wait to see my doctor. "I want to lose weight," I told him, anticipating he'd immediately agree and give me the shot. Instead, he said, "Eat less." It was then I knew he was an idiot. "Eat less?!?!?!" Doesn't that guy know anything? Eat less. What kind of advice is that?"

Then I turned 19 and for some reason lost my craving for food. I ate less. I ate a lot less, and I went from a size 12 to size 7. I now weighed 122 pounds. Part of me knew I looked good, but the part that was always self-critical, could still find body parts to pick at. My thighs, for instance. I'd always thought that since I was 5'7-1/2", if I lost weight, I'd have long, thin thighs. Nope. I will never have long thin thighs because I don't have long legs. But I'll tell you, from the vantage point of decades later, I looked unbelievably great!

I had to get a lot older to finally understand about appreciating my body and knowing what to do with it. Of course, by then, I'd walk into a room and my butt would show up a bit later (kidding). I had to learn to wear thongs in order to avoid the dreaded pantyline. Don't you just hate when you can see where the underwear stop and a woman's floppy butt and thighs bulge? I do and I wasn't ever going to be joining those ranks.

I've been on all sorts of diets over the years and inevitably, they only work for a while because, eventually, I still want to eat. I've made deals with myself about food and given up things I adore: chips, ice cream, cake, omelets. But I haven't given them up for a good. And every night I have at least one piece of chocolate because life is too short to live in a perpetual state of deprivation.

And by the way, I look damn good for an old broad!

Be Kind

My mother knew she was dying. Two weeks before her death, as I was leaving her room, she said: Being kind, having fun, and loving are the most important things.



Kindness. It's such a simple word and idea, yet often there is too little of it in our world.

Today, I was honored to hear two remarkable 22-year-old women tell their stories of how they came to found Kind Campaign. They have crossed the United States filming the stories of girls who have been bullied or have bullied others. They have a website filled with letters from teens and adults who have taken the time to write out their apologies to those they hurt by unkindness.

Unkindness can be mean words, actions, or even the absence of action. You may wonder about what I mean by "absence of action." That's when you see someone being hurt by others and you say and do nothing. That's not good enough. We all need awareness about the consequences of our actions or inactions -- sad consequences that can lead to a lifetime of sadness, insecurity, depression, and lack of love.

Please visit http://www.kindcampaign.com/ and learn how you can help to spread kindness in this world.

And by the way, if you're my friend, I want to thank you for always being kind to me.

A Closed Mouth

A closed mouth gathers no feet.

No Longer Holding My Happiness Hostage

When I was younger, I would hold my happiness hostage. The ransom: oh, such important things as thin thighs, weight loss, the perfect outfit to wear, a good hair day, a boyfriend, etc., etc.
I'd be happy if only . . . was my mantra.
Now, I'm just happy. Happy that I woke up today. Grateful that I have a home, I have a body that works (sure there's creaks that need oiling and parts that need hoisting and lifting); grateful that I have a wonderful husband; even grateful for the Golden Retriever who looks right past me when my husband's home; and very grateful there are people in this world who love me just as I am.
I am simply grateful. The aches and pains don't really matter; the people who I think done me wrong, don't matter. The things that haven't gone my way don't matter.
Today is an opportunity to live and I am going to embrace it and run with it (or maybe hobble, depending what my ankles decide).
The point is this, and I wish I had been the first one to think it: Happiness is not a state to arrive at but a manner of traveling.

Aging Gratefully

This is my favorite hiaku:

Since my house burned down
I now own a better view of the rising sun

Aging can be like that. The more losses that confront me, whether it's through death or coping with some challenging physical changes and ailments in my body, the clearer everything seems and the more enjoyable my life.

I am not just aging gracefully, I'm aging gratefully.

In some ways my father's early death was a tremendous gift for me. Ever since I passed the age at which he died, I have known that every birthday is a gift and some people have very few of these gifts. Do I like the changes in my body that come with aging? Absolutely not! I look at various body parts and say, "Et tu?" Yet as I see the "interesting" physical changes, I am also aware that every single day is a gift, not a given.

I've had some health challenges this year and no longer know what it means to wake up feeling well. What the outcome of this will be, I still don't know. I have learned patience. I have learned to live with uncertainty. I have learned to live with humor, joy, gratitude, and love in my heart. These are gifts I hope to keep the rest of my life.

There have been times this year when I have felt so lousy as I went to sleep that I wondered if I would even be here to wake up the next morning. I obviously have, but I no longer take that for granted. And I hope to live that way for as long as I get to continue aging gratefully.

And if you are one of my dearest friends reading this and we haven't spoken today, just remember, you've made a great difference in my life and I love you always.

Sixty is the New Forty? Me thinks not!

My cardiologist told me that 60 is the new 40. I don't think so!

When I was 40, my breasts were perky, my face had no lines, there was nary a strand of gray in my hair (on my head or elsewhere), and cellulite was something I'd only seen on others.60 the new 40? I don't think so.

When I was 40, only older people died. Even if they were a friend, they were considerably older. Not so today. People my age, or only a year or two older, are dying. We think we're young, and we certainly are compared to our parents who are still alive and in their 80s or 90s, but 40, we are absolutely not.

I watch the famous people of my generation with their face-lifts leaving them virtually unrecognizable except for the sound of their voices.
They don't really look younger -- just odd, just different.

• Why didn't they realize they were beautiful?
• Why didn't they see the lines and wrinkles only added character?
• Why are people afraid of aging while simultaneously doing everything to stay alive longer?

Is someone not understanding that to have a long life means you will age? You will either go bald or your hair will turn gray; women will get facial hair while men sprout breasts; you will probably have some aches and pains; you may get senile; and you will die.

In the meantime, all of you who are still young and wrinkle free: ENJOY. Enjoy your life. Enjoy your youth. Embrace everything you can, even the bad times, and then go and celebrate your youth and your life.
And one more thing: don’t let your triceps get flabby!

Don't Stare, Grow Your Own

I went bra shopping today. I had to because I had grown -- again. If all these young ladies just waited they wouldn't need breast implants. I've done it the natural way. Except...

And that brings me to thinking about getting my first bra. I couldn't wait. I was ten years old and so excited. They called them "training bras."

Now, to tell you the truth, my youthful breasts needed no training. They knew what to do. They knew they were supposed to be perky. They were firm; they pointed just where they were supposed to -- facing front, pointing directly at anyone in front of me. "" No one, and nothing, had to show them how to do it.

But now. Now, when the girls need serious instruction and directions, there is nothing to train, or retrain them. They're going south. They have a birds eye (or should I say "breast eye"), view of my feet.

The first time I noticed this trend, I just assumed I wasn't standing up straight. So I pulled my shoulders back and took another look in the mirror. Nope, they were still pointing south. So I leaned further back, and then further, and then further -- all I needed was the music to accompany the limbo I was doing. All to no avail.

The downward trend has continued. But unlike the economy, which has a chance of rebounding, I fear my girls will remain staring at my feet the rest of their lives.

Wishes Do Come True

I swear, it was only a second or two ago that I was sitting at my desk at Shenandoah Street School in L.A. wishing I were an adult.
And poof,
I'm 60!

Phone calls vs. Facebook & Emails

The dreaded news came that our friend died this morning. This time I found out by his wife's brief post on Facebook, followed by bulk emails from her and a friend of hers.
The electronic and internet worlds are wonderful in keeping us connected, but ever since I received a message left on my answering machine back in 1991 that a good friend had died, I have realized there is something disturbing about reading or hearing a message of death and having no one to speak to. Fortunately, if one would call it that, when my friend, Sharon, died in 1991, I already knew before the call came. Even so, I found the taped message disturbing.
When the email about my cousin and then today's Facebook/emails arrived, I was home alone and had to sit by myself with all the unshared emotions and wasn't sure what my next step was. Since the news came via the internet, I didn't feel I could follow my natural inclination, which would be to buy some food, bring it over and pay a personal visit. Instead, I left messages on her phone and email box.
I understand the need to get the information out to as many people as possible, but there is something to be said about speaking to real human beings. I guess I'm old-fashioned.

Email

Email is both wonderful and frightening. I love receiving emails from friends and relatives. I enjoy the stories, the funny jokes, the interesting take on life, and the simple ease of sharing our experiences.
But recently opening my email box has become a source of trepidation. While waiting to hear the status of a friend undergoing treatment for cancer, I opened my email box expecting to read a dire update.
Instead of that update there was an e-mail from my cousin's daughter telling me that her mother had died the day before. Last I heard from my favorite childhood cousin, the one who was just a little bad and a lot of fun, she'd sent me a photo proudly showing off her reduced Weight Watcher's body. That was August 26th, and I was so busy, I didn't really notice I hadn't heard from her again. Then the email from her daughter telling me and so many others who loved my cousin, that Annie, who had been diagnosed with cancer 2-1/2 weeks ago was now dead. She was 62.
Then the news our friend -- the email I was waiting for -- was now on palliative care. I knew what that meant. Palliative care is when the doctors know there is no hope and a person is treated only with medication to keep them comfortable. He was diagnosed 2-1/2 months ago.
Today came the news that our friend had suffered multiple strokes and was now at home, surrounded by his wife, children, and other family members. And so, again, each time I open my email box, I feel some fear. I am waiting for the news I dread yet know will come. He, too, is young.
They both looked to be the picture of health with smiles that could light up a city. One is already gone and the other almost there.
It's no longer my parent's generation that is dying. It is mine.

Grief -- Unfortunately it's for everyone

My dog, Sophie, died suddenly four weeks ago. She was a beautiful Golden Retirever and only 9 years old. This is the second Golden I've lost with very little warning (and I'm talking a few hours or less when I say little).
I was suddenly thrown into the "land of grief," and had to deal with the myriad of painful feelings traversing that ragged terrain entails.
I've been a grief counselor for 25 years and had my first significant loss when I was only 12 years old, so I'm no stranger to loss. Nevertheless, I never like grieving and, despite people believing that as a grief professional, my grief would be less painful than anyone else's, this is far from the truth. For you see, the experience of grief, both mine and yours, has only served to make me more human, more passionate, and more aware of my feelings and yours.
So the grief professional grieves. No more and no less than you.
While the loss of my beautiful Sophie has none of the complexities the loss of my father, stepson, friends, or mother encompassed, on the level of pure pain, you bet I got to feel it.
Every time we love and lose the one we love, whether in human or tail form, we feel the pain of loss.
I miss Sophie's greeting with a tail wag, a willingness to always get up to say hello, her happiness to see me, and her gentle soothing soul.
I miss this wonderful treasure who loved me just as I am and probably thought more of me than I deserved.