Don't Tell Me I'm Too Old!

@GlenysOConnell

It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.” – Gabriel García Marquez.

As a society, we seem obsessed with age. Age dominates the way we're expected to behave - how often do we hear the phrase: Act Your Age! when we're maybe feeling light and easy and a bit giddy? And what a putdown that can feel like! Then the way we dress - why shouldn't 'older' women wear bright colors and yes, tight pants and mini skirts, too, if they have the shape for it. Not something I would do, though. My shape needs something more demure...:-)
 
Age perception affects every aspect of our lives. Whether we get a job or a promotion, whether we're considered too old to learn something new, too old to date or find new relationships. An aunt in her late sixties was advised by concerned family members that she was 'too old' to take a trip to Australia to see the son she hadn't seen for years, and meet his family. She went. She had a great time - and looked years younger when she came home.
 

A friend who's an avid woodworker set about building himself a new workshop as his 70th birthday gift to himself. Another friend suggested to him that, at his age, it was pointless building this new project because, after all, he wouldn't have a lot of time left. Twenty years later, he's still enjoying his workspace, making wood carvings and creating other items from his own designs.

 

There's a lot to be said for staying young in our outlook. I'm pretty sure that 'young thinking' people stay healthier and active. I'm a great believer in the idea that 'attitude is everything' and that, if we give in to the idea that age prevents us from doing something, well, we may as well head for the rocking chair and slowly fade away.

 
I've taught creative writing online for years, and one question prospective students often ask is: "Do You Think I'm Too Old To Start Writing a Book?" My reply is usually: "Are you breathing? Do You have a pulse? Then no, you're not too old."
 
It makes me angry when I hear newsreaders announce that 'an elderly woman of 57' was injured in a car accident. Jeez, whoever said 57 was elderly?
 
I'm not immune, though. This age thing gets into your head. One of the main characters in my recently completed novel, The Bride's Curse, is a woman of 62. I found myself frequently referring to her as an older woman, and even twice as an old woman. Goodness me - I had to slap myself silly and go back and change all those references!
 
So, that's my rant for today, and the reason that I veered from the straight and narrow of the quotes listed for January above. After all, my fellow roses have done justice to them already and I'm feeling far too old to be competitive - Not!
 
Glenys O'Connell, who refuses to give her age even when asked by Homeland Security, also blogs on Romance Can Be Murder! http://www.romancecanbemurder.blogspot.ca/ And you can see her books on www.amazon.com/author/glenysoconnell

Confessions of a Dating Rebel!

By Glenys O'Connell

 There are lots of traditional mores that now seem outdated: once upon a time, women were not allowed to own property, vote, hold down a job (except poor women could do something menial, like being a servant).

In fact, right up until a few years ago, women teachers in Ireland (and possibly other countries!) were expected to leave their jobs if they got married. One brave soul had to go all the way to the higher courts to insist that she and all other women teachers had the right to work in their chosen profession and at the same time be a wife and mother. She won her case and a judge ordered her reinstated, but whether she actually returned to work in a school that had caused her such unhappiness, I don’t know. I doubt things would have been pleasant for her in the staff room.

Yes, there are many things that women weren't supposed to do in the past that they do now without even having to stop and think. For example, I can remember when I was in my teens, you were considered a bit 'fast' if you asked a guy out on a date. Well, not being one to stand on ceremony, I bravely invited three boys out on dates. Not all at the same time, you understand.

One turned out to be a total jerk. So much for my feelings of being sophisticated in the ways of dating. But never mind, if at first you don’t succeed….

The next turned out to be older, but also a member of the minor aristocracy, and I learned a lot from him – his lifestyle provided lots of insights for a girl from a working class background! But he was looking for a long-term relationship which was more than I was ready for. 'Nuff said.

The next guy I met and asked to accompany me to a party turned out to be a real gem – and we're still together many years and four children later.

So Phssst! to social mores!

You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this. Definitely not to prove what a rebel I am! I'm pretty sure my own very modern daughters wouldn't be impressed by this bit of 'forwardness' on their Mom's part. And the idea of proposing – well, that went way beyond me!

But hey, girls – it's a Leap Year. You know, the one year in four when February has 29 days.

And if you're too young to know this bit of old folk lore, this is the one day every four years when it's considered okay for a woman to propose to a man. Wow!

If you're in love and he's a bit shy (or, as we used to say, a bit backward on coming forward)       today's the day you can pop the question with good luck on your side.

I'd love to hear about your own adventures in setting the running in a relationship – whether it's making the first move - or even proposing!

Lady Diana, the heroine of my romantic comedy  Marrying Money, was tired of there being a dearth of eligible (and wealthy) husband material in her life. So she decided to go out and find herself a rich husband to save her impoverished estate. Here's an excerpt:           

“I have definitely got to do something about the state of things. We can’t go on this way, what with money leaking out left right and centre and the east wing needing a new roof and…….“

Sally raised an eyebrow at me over her pint mug of lager and lime. It’s her way of saying: “Get on with it.“ and I don’t think she has any idea just how badly her eyebrows need plucking. Raising one like that makes it look like a caterpillar is crawling up her face……

Where was I? Oh yes. “I made a decision this morning, after going over the accounts one more time with Jim Chatterton. After realising that I don’t actually have a pot of my own to piss in, as your dad would so charmingly put it, I've decided on a course of action."

"Ohh, get you. 'I've decided on a course of action.' Well, if that ain't just the lady of the manor, an' all," Sally said before honking loudly and banging her forehead on the table.

"Stop it, will you – everyone's looking," I hissed at her. "Anyway, I am the lady of the manor. And I'm going to get married."

                I should have waited until Sally had swallowed that mouthful of lager and lime. That way she wouldn’t have sprayed it all over the vicar when I made my marriage announcement.

                "You're not serious! You? Get Married? Never!"

                People really were staring, now. The Reverend Morrison was edging quietly away from our table, although I wasn't sure whether he wanted to avoid another lager spray or was afraid I’d ask him to conduct the service. The vicar and my dear nutty Aunt Kay, the family witch, have had a few spats in their time. I think it once involved an exorcism.

                "You're not really going to marry Larry the Lettuce, are you?" Sally's eyes were wide.

                "Well he's as good as any other option around here. And he's got money. It's simple: He gets me, and the Ashburnham Estate gets his money."

                Which is actually only a variation on my ancestors' behavior. Whenever the estate was down to its last few hundred thousand, out would go a hunting party to bag a nice rich bride and dowry. I couldn’t see any difference between my bagging Larry the Lettuce and my great Great-Great-Great-Great--Grandfather, Lord Ralph, aged 70, bringing home pretty little fifteen year old Alice de Clancy and her accompanying gold dowry.

Glenys O'Connell swears she has never proposed to anyone in her life. This blog is the last confession of this sort she intends to make - even under threat of removal of her chocolate stash! You can read excerpts from her books on her web page at Romance Can Be Murder

    

Glenys O'Connell says: Enough of Hallowe'en Horror - Let's Have Some Romance!

While I love a well crafted horror story, aka, Stephen King, I can't write the stuff. But I do a good line in murders – that's why I have Romance Can be Murder as my tag line. For example, the heroine of Judgement By Fire is a reclusive wildlife artist, Lauren, who is being stalked by an increasingly threatening unknown lover. She has two powerful men in her life – but how can she trust either of them when one could be her stalker?

In Resort to Murder, police detective Ellie Fitzpatrick risked her life to confront and arrest a serial killer. But Ellie has also got on the wrong side of a gang of thugs who discredit her so she's suspended from duty, her stellar career crashing and burning. When a biography of her serial killer, The Sunshine Slasher, claims the convicted man is innocent and more murders occur, she has to decide if there's a copycat killer or if she has been instrumental in a colossal miscarriage of justice by arresting an innocent man. Her return to duty brings her into conflict with Liam Reilly, the lover she believed had abandoned her when she was disgraced. When it's obvious she's the next on the killer's target list, can she rely on Reilly to help her stay alive – or will he turn his back on her again?

So, enough of the horror of romance! Because this is, after all, a blog about romance and love, I want to tell you a couple of true stories that came my way recently.

The first is about a lonely young church minister. His parish was in a rural Ontario village and as there was no manse, his lodgings were in the village tavern. Recognizing the young man's loneliness, the sage tavern owner told him: "A man isn't meant to live alone!"

Transferred to a new parish, he picked up a copy of the newspaper to fill in some empty time on a Saturday afternoon. There, on the entertainment page, was the picture of a beautiful young vaudeville actress – yes, this happened over 50 years ago! – and the young minister was smitten. He immediately wrote to her, but received no reply. It seems the young lady was used to getting lots of letters from smitten young men.

But undaunted, he wrote again, and again. He told her of his life, and how her picture had lifted his gloom. And eventually he told her he loved her.

Finally, intrigued, she took pity on him and replied.

After an exchange of letters, they met – and the rest is history. The minister and his wife just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.

The next story is about a young boy who had a crush on a little girl in the same grade at public school. Despite the teasing of his classmates, he finally worked up the courage to ask if he could walk her home. But he had blackboard cleaning duty that day, and so she told him: "No, because my Mom says I must go straight home." She saw how disappointed he was, and added: "But I'll walk real slow."

She did as promised, and he hurried through his chores and managed to catch up with her, walking slow.

Romance blossomed,  and they married after graduation.

Fast forward through 64 years of marriage and the little girl, now an old woman, is on her deathbed. The little boy, now a very old man, leans forward and kisses her, tears in his eyes. With her last strength, she reaches forward and puts her arms around his neck to draw him near.

"I'm going straight home to God," she says with a wink. "But I'll walk slow."

Despite her somewhat murderous taste in literature, Glenys O'Connell is a sucker for a sweet romantic story. You can read excerpts of her work at http://www.glenysoconnell.com/ or email her at RomanceCanBeMurder@hotmail.ca

Oh, The Horror; the Horror! It's good for you!

By Glenys O'Connell

As a kid I can remember being terrified by a television showing of the original black-and-white movie Dracula. Later, married with two kids, I couldn't face going into my basement to do laundry at night after reading Stephen King's The Shining.

I recently saw The Shining again, and wondered what the fuss was all about!

But I'll be right there the next time there's a King book out, or a horror movie showing at the local movie house.

And I won't be alone.

I know you – and lots of our friends – will be right there with me.

Horror is good for us!

It alls starts when we're kids – have you read some of those traditional fairy tales recently? I don't mean the politically correct versions some of those killjoys out there want kids to read. I mean the ones with wicked witches and monsters, children being cooked over an open fire….even the rhymes like Humpty Dumpty and The Three Little Pigs are early horror fodder for our young.

So what do I mean by horror is good for us? Well, for one thing it lets us explore our worst fears, just like the cavemen who drew pictures on the cave walls showing them fighting off saber toothed tigers and other monsters of the day. We face our fears, and then we can say wow, we faced the crazy serial killer, the zombie, the monster, and we survived! And deep down inside, we know it's not real.

There's also the borderline real horror shows, like CSI. Now we don't care hoew gruesome the scenes and we don't really care if it's inaccurate. What is important that the story shows us the world is set right after something aweful happens. That's what we want to know: always the bad guys are punished in the end and the good guys win out.

Uhm. Maybe not so much like real life, after all.

Now, I'm all for horror, but I'm also all for keeping it in the fantasy realm. Fantasy horror, on tv or the big screen, where we can shudder or scream, close our eyes tight or snuggle up to a lover for comfort & protection, is a great safety valve.

But real life horror, that's something else. As a journalist I saw some pretty awful things that have stayed with me for many years. One is the way a weedy little man, charged with eviscerating his estranged wife, turned around in court to smile at his relatives who were there to support him.

That grin said so much – the pleasure and pride he felt at what he'd done, the lack of a conscience or any remorse, and the empty, insane look that made shivers run down my spine. I'm glad to say he was put away for a long, long time.

One I'll never understand. I used to dread being on duty during long weekend holidays, because one of the jobs then was to cover the traffic accidents. We all know folk go a bit crazy on holidays, what with mixing booze and unaccustomed freedom, so the accidents can be pretty horrendous.

So, we have a beautiful summer day, birds singing, leaves budding out, blue skies with fluffy white clouds. And an accident scene – two wrecked vehicles, emergency crews everywhere, an elderly woman being rushed to an ambulance while her husband's body lay in the road.

And a middle aged couple with two children in tow arguing with a young cop because they were not being allowed near the scene. They wanted the two children, aged about nine and 12, to see the dead guy. Indeed, they claimed they had a right to see the dead.

I was an educated adult and yet I can still shudder when remember that blanket covered form, still in death, and one hairy wrist protruding from the coverings, a gold wedding ring glinting in the sunlight. Would seeing this be an education for the two kids? Or nightmare material?

Yet the two nutcases wanted to expose their kids or grandkids to some titillating entertainment of the dead body type. An early forerunner of reality television?

No, thanks. I'll take my horror with popcorn and a few good friends. The kind of horror we leave behind when we leave the theatre or turn off the tv.

Real life horror is just too, well, real for my taste.

Romantic suspense & mystery author Glenys O'Connell admits to some pretty evil deeds herself. For example, at Hallowe'en she's been known to stash some of the best candy away for herself and then lie to innocent children about having given it all away…you can read some of her work on www.glenysoconnell.com under the brand Romance Can be Murder.