Aging Gracefully, What a Joke! by Brenda Whiteside

Early 20s

I'm not fond of aging. This is my story, and I'd love to hear if you've had as much trouble as I have.

Every decade has brought a new complaint from me, a new hurdle to get over. The year before I turned thirty was one of my worst. There were milestones missed, intended accomplishments that never came to fruition. Wow, was I hard on myself. And then the physical signs of aging reared their ugly head.

My husband tells me that I approach aging with the wrong attitude. There should be joy in making it to the next decade. He doesn't understand my angst. I'm ecstatic to make it through every year. It's the physical aging part that has always made me...hmmm...angry, I guess.

I actually didn't mind turning forty. But then the forties started disappearing. Time sped forward and I went kicking and screaming toward the next decade. I dared anyone to acknowledge my fiftieth birthday. FDW warned a good friend

One month from 40

who was planning a surprise party that if she valued our friendship, and her life, to let it go. Luckily, she did. And I'm happy to say, she threw me the party for my fifty-first birthday. Thrilled me. So much fun.

And the years passed. I didn't know the meaning of the term "aging gracefully." The hurdle of acceptance was taller than Mount Everest. I quit wearing a swimsuit. The next thing to go

51st birthday party

was shorts. A few years later, sleeveless tops were taboo. It's not that I hadn't taken care of myself. My diet was excellent and exercise was a normal part of my routine. But there is only so much you can do as the years pile on. Vain? I suppose. But nothing could deter me, especially when those close to me proclaimed "you look great for your age." Argh! Yes, definitely vain.

Last week, that gigantic hurdle crumbled. There was no big ceremony, no

Well into my 50s

cosmetic surgery, no miracle. My four-year-old granddaughter wanted me to go to the pool and see how much she'd learned at swimming lessons. When I said, I would watch, her face fell. She wanted me in the water with her. How could I possibly say no?

I'm free!

I dug out my discarded swimsuit, held my breath, and tried it on. It fit. I peeked in the mirror. Okay, I don't look like I used to. How could I? I have a beautiful little granddaughter. I'm a Nana for pete's sake. But something just came over me, and I really can't tell you what. Padding across the cool deck, following that little girl into the pool, my self esteem was just fine. I had so much fun. And I am who I am. Isn't that aging

Thanks to this little girl

gracefully?

Forget About Birthdays by Diane Burton

When I was growing up, my mom did her best to make our birthdays special. Since there were seven of us kids, we didn’t get a lot of individual attention—except on our birthdays. Mom made a wonderful orange chiffon cake with pineapple icing, all from scratch. We had candles and singing and gifts. With seven kids, money was stretched to the limit. So birthday gifts, while special, weren’t extravagant. My favorite gifts were always books. Nancy Drew ranked high. As I grew older, Mom would buy a special Sanders birthday cake with buttercream icing, ground nuts around the sides. Yum.

For my kids’ birthdays, I learned how to decorate their cakes using Wilton cake pans. They had Strawberry Shortcake and Raggedy Ann, Big Bird, even Darth Vader. It’s a wonder I didn’t get carpal tunnel from making little stars with canned chocolate frosting. We made a big deal out of their birthdays, just like my mom did. And my family reciprocated with Hubs' birthdays and mine.

So how did I spend my birthday this year? Babysitting the grandkids at their house. (A continuation of the week when Hubs and I had to get them off to school that I blogged about on the 30th.) Always fun, unless the five-year-old starts running a fever. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night. And of course, I couldn’t find a thermometer or children’s Tylenol. Eventually, I found a chewable pain reliever that in small print said fever reducer. Dad was at a medical conference and Mom was incommunicado at a camp without cellular service. But I managed. Thank goodness for Hubs who took care of the dogs (3 of them) and kept an eye on the kids—while watching football—so I could take a nap. Grandson is fine. Not so sure about his grandma. LOL

Prior to that adventure, I was treated to dinner by daughter and her family. And my five-month-old granddaughter sent flowers from Arizona. Very clever girl. According to her dad (our son) they’re going to have to keep an eye on her. She took a credit card from his wallet and went shopping online. She even wrote the loveliest letter. As I said, very clever for a kid so young. <g>

I love the celebrations. Most years, they extend nearly all month with lunches out with my sister and girlfriends, cards and phone calls. When Hubs asked the perennial question “What do you want for your birthday?” I said I wanted to go up north to see the colors. Surprisingly, he said he was going to suggest that. After forty-three years, I guess we know each other.

The only fly in the ointment is that I’m a year older. Yuck. Mentally, I’m still in my twenties. Thirties, maybe. My body tells a different story. Oh, to have the energy and enthusiasm of those earlier days but the wisdom of age. I’d tell my younger self to enjoy the moment. Not to always rush through whatever I was doing and to stop looking toward what’s next. Just enjoy the journey.

So even though I started later than I should have, I’m enjoying the journey.

Diane Burton writes romantic adventure . . . stories that take place on Earth and beyond. She blogs here on the 8th and 30th of each month and on Mondays on her own site: http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/

Question Everything by Diane Burton

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is to not stop questioning. ~ Albert Einstein

Words to live by—especially not to stop questioning. Do you remember the Sixties? (either personally or what you’ve read) We were such a “horrible” generation. So disillusioned by the Establishment. We dared to question authority. “Because I said so” didn’t cut it for us. Even worse when it came from people we were supposed to respect. Government, organized religion, Big Business. “Don’t trust anyone over thirty.” LOL

We grew up cynical, just knowing we were being lied to. Even when we weren’t. Worse when we could say “I told you so.” Questioning authority led to many arguments, even estrangement, within families. It also led to protest marches, riots, major disruptions of large assemblies (like the Democratic National Convention).

I’m pretty sure that type of questioning was not what Einstein referred to. While I’m not a flower child anymore (never was, actually), I haven’t stopped asking why. Or what if. Isn’t that what writers do? We want our readers to ask why, to leave them wondering what happens next when they finish our books. But first we have to ask those questions ourselves. What came before the story starts? Why do our characters act the way they do? What in their past formed their attitudes? What will it take to make them change? Why?

I’ve always been a reader. I love learning something new. Maybe not everything, like when Microsoft changes something that was perfectly fine. I’ve never enjoyed reading non-fiction, but if I need a fact for a story or blog post, I’ll delve deep into the internet. I’m very curious about other people, cultures, worlds. Not only do I wonder if there is sentient life on other planets, I make up stories about them.

Yesterday, Glenys wrote about age and attitude. I just shake my head at my contemporaries who won’t try something new, won’t use a computer (or are afraid to try), or think they’re too old to learn a new skill. They may be the same chronological age I am, but they’re years older in their attitude. 

I’ve frequently mentioned my three “Moms”—my mother, mother-in-law, and her sister. They are ladies who traveled to Europe in their eighties and nineties. When Aunt Cora broke her wrist in her mid-nineties, she learned to use a microwave. You should have seen her amazement when she discovered microwave popcorn came with butter and salt already on it. If laptop computers had been cheaper then, I’ll bet she would have loved learning to use one. Here's a picture of the three of them at St. Moritz. They continued going on European tours for another seven or eight years.

Cora, 89; Dorothy, 74; Grace, 91

I hope when I’m in my nineties, I’m still asking why and what if. Still writing stories to answer those questions.

Diane Burton blogs here on the 8th and 30th of each month and on Mondays on her own site: http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/

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

My Neck and Other Things I Feel Bad About by Rolynn Anderson

It’s May at The Roses of Prose, and we’re talking about the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.  My neck comes to mind.  How is your neck looking these days?  Find yourself grimacing or edging your chin forward in order to smooth out the wrinkles?  Yup, I’ve got a turkey neck…hear me gobble.

It’s the wonderful Nora Ephron who brought up necks in her witty I FEEL BAD ABOUT MY NECK.  It’s a laugh-out-loud compendium of how we women feel as our bodies betray us.  The ding-dang neck problem has her pontificating: “You can’t have too many turtleneck sweaters.” 

She feels badly about her too-full purses, the roll around her tummy, tight shoes, the 2/3rds of her clothes in her closet she never wears.  I say ‘Amen.’  Nora Ephron has nailed the Bad and the Ugly. 

The Good?  About aging, Nora said, “Consider the Alternative.”  When she wrote the neck book she was cringing over an impending 65^th birthday.  We all know she made it to her 71^st celebration before the “alternative,” happened.  That’s the Good.  This talented director, screenwriter and producer, who gave gems such as “Sleepless in Seattle,” “Julia and Julia,” “You’ve got Mail,” "Silkwood," and “When Harry Met Sally,” lived a full life and gave us stories we’ll never forget. 

She also said: “There’s nothing wrong with ordering two desserts.”

Even if I don’t like my neck, it's definitely better than the alternative.  I’ll seize the day and keep writing stories like Nora did.  In the spirit of Nora’s witty look at life, what part of aging ticks you off?

P.S.  Speaking of aging, LIE CATCHERS, in worldwide release, is one month old.  In one more month I’ll be signing books in Petersburg, Alaska, the setting for my double murder mystery/romance.  Can’t wait!  Here’s LIE CATCHERS http://amzn.com/B00HJDS1LG

BLURB:

Two unsolved murders will tear apart an Alaska fishing town unless a writer and a government agent reveal their secret obsessions.

Treasury agent Parker Browne is working undercover in Petersburg, Alaska to investigate a money scam and a murder. His prime suspect, Liv Hanson, is a freelance writer struggling to save her family’s business. Free spirited, full of life, and with a talent for catching liars, she fascinates Parker.

Trying to prove she’s a legitimate writer who cares about Petersburg’s issues, Liv pens a series of newspaper articles about an old, unsolved murder. When her cold case ties in with Parker’s investigation, bullets start to fly.

Parker understands money trails, and Liv knows the town residents. But he gave up on love two years ago, and she trusts no one, especially with her carefully guarded secret. If they mesh their skills to find the killers, will they survive the fallout?

http://rolynnanderson.com/

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https://twitter.com/#!/rolynnanderson

Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005527LS2