Run, Candidates, Run!

Run, Candidates, Run!

  HAVE YOU NOTICED? I’m a political junkie, totally hooked on the upcoming presidential election. And, boy, is Presidential Election 2016 providing me with a lot of entertainment! No soap opera could come up with a plot like this one!   I’ve lost count but I think we started out with something like 18 candidates between both the Dems and the Republicans. I’m not sure what we’re down to but the number is still “huuuge.”   What stands out to me most though is the age of the frontrunners in this year’s presidential election.   Hillary is 69, Bernie is 73, The Donald is 69 and there’s still talk of “Uncle Joe” Biden, age 73, having a change of heart and entering the race at the last minute and possibly Mike Bloomberg, age 73, doing the same. I watch these folks with fascination. The campaign trail is not easy on the mind and body. Their travel schedules, one event after another, speaking to large crowds and one-on-one in diners, always needing to remember their stump speeches, be quick on their feet with retorts, and always, always charming. (Well, anyway they should try to be charming.) As I sit at home in front of my TV set, I can’t recall the name of the actor in the movie I just saw, or where I put my keys.   Give me enough time and I can come up with a great comeback to a nasty remark, usually after the offender is long gone, but the perfect response immediately right off the top if my head—those days are long gone.   My back aches after I walk a few blocks and I can’t stand in one place for a couple of hours without pain but they stand at those lecterns forever with no facial grimaces—and Hillary does it in heels! So after ruminating...
Happy, Merry, Joyous: Can We Celebrate Now?

Happy, Merry, Joyous: Can We Celebrate Now?

In Defense of Celebrations… As I was walking down the hall of a medical building the other day I noticed a Christmas wreath on one of the doctor’s doors.  It jumped out at me because it was the only one.  All the other doors were bare.  It occurred to me that every office door, every business, used to be adorned with decorations, with trees in the lobbies, holiday music playing everywhere to the point of driving one insane.  Not so much anymore. I mentioned it to a receptionist at my destination office, who pointed out that everyone is being politically correct, not wanting to offend or leave anyone out.  I get that.  But haven’t we gone to extremes here?   Instead of eliminating any religious holiday, why don’t we expand it to cover all who are celebrating something at this time of year?  Instead of eliminating holidays, why can’t we be all-inclusive?  There are symbols for all that we can display.  Certainly we can do a New Year’s display, a winter display, something! The world is a little crazy right now.  There’s so much around us that’s depressing, sad, heartbreaking and downright frightening.  We need joy in our lives like we’ve never needed it before!   Any reason to celebrate is worth doing.  Why not hang some skiing and ice skating photos and a sign that says “Celebrate Winter”?  Or hang some photos of children of all races and ethnicities laughing and a sign that says “Celebrate children”?  We can hang symbols of Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and New Year’s with a sign that says “Celebrate!”   Hang balloons and streamers or whatever brings you joy and pipe up music of all kinds, but for goodness sake, let’s celebrate!   Earlier blogs from Rosy Prose’s column, The View From Here, are available on ACT TWO....
Dinner at Aunt Millie’s

Dinner at Aunt Millie’s

  Am I the only one with table setting nostalgia? As the holidays near and I start to think about holiday meals, menus and table décor, I also think back to the holiday meals of my childhood and adolescence.  Dinners at Aunt Millie’s— not just holiday meals but anytime meals—stand out so vividly that I can still see the table and taste and smell the food.   Aunt Millie lived in New Jersey and we lived in Pennsylvania.  It was a four hour drive, but my Dad enjoyed driving and there were many times we’d do the drive for an early Sunday dinner and head back the same day. I remember Aunt Millie’s butler’s pantry.  It’s out of style now but I’d love to have one like it:  a separate room with base cabinets below, glass-doored cabinets up above, and a countertop all around.  Inside the upper cabinets were soup tureens, punch bowls and platters of all sizes and types and several sets of stemware and china.  Down below were table linens of every size and color.   Aunt Millie was a great cook and everything she made was delicious.  Her meals were always several courses, including a selection of appetizers, almost always a soup, an entrée with several sides and a scrumptious dessert.   Does anyone cook like that anymore? Or entertain like that?  My favorite part, though, was her table settings and the ceremony of partaking in the meal.  I was about six to ten years old during this period; even then I had an appreciation for the visual.  I would sit down at the table and my eyes would dance from the pretty linens to the centerpiece, the candles, the china and flatware set out perfectly for each course.     Each meal was a different table scape and color scheme, decorated specifically for the season...
Remembrance of Summers Past

Remembrance of Summers Past

I started writing this blog about five years ago when I suddenly realized that I was much wiser than everyone else.  I attributed this wisdom to the fact that I was in the second half of life and had therefore acquired a perspective on absolutely everything that one can have only after acquiring “a history.” You learn a lot passing through the years. If you pay attention, absolutely everything that you see, hear or that happens to you has a different meaning to you than it does to a 10-year-old, a 20-year-old, or even a 40-year-old.   Remembering Milky Ways… Take dandelions, for example.  I remember as a child picking dandelions in the lawn and pulling off the yellow leaves while playing a little “he loves me, he loves me not” game. Remember that?  And when the dandelions had passed their prime they turned into what we called “milky-ways” and we would blow them and watch the white seeds float through the air. So where, I ask you, have all the dandelions gone?  I don’t see them anymore.  I suspect it’s because in today’s world we don’t allow those imperfections in our perfect, chemically treated, golf-course-like green lawns.   …and Fireflies A couple of weeks ago I was thinking about fireflies. Another childhood memory was having the pleasure of being outside on a warm summer evening, such a treat to be outside late, and at dusk seeing the blinking of fireflies.  We had jars with holes punched in the lids to provide air, we would chase and catch the fireflies and put them in the jars.  It was such fun to see them blinking in the jar, lighting it up like a lantern. So I posed this question to my daughter and my grandson.  Do we still have fireflies?  I don’t recall seeing them in years. My daughter assured...
A Crusty Old Broad

A Crusty Old Broad

“Crusty Old Broad” I’m using this term with endearment. My fond memories of my mother, who passed at age 88, always bring a smile to my face. Mom was a character but always in a very sweet way. She would say the most outlandish things but with that little smile on her face, a twinkle in her eye and her soft voice, no one was ever offended. A bit taken aback perhaps, but never offended. She called everyone “dear” and she once confided to me that it was because she could never remember names. When she was a younger woman, my mother was a bit shy, always very proper, the perfect lady, careful to always say the right thing.  Or perhaps to refrain completely from saying what she was thinking.  But as she aged she became bolder and by the time she hit 70 or so, my mother just told it like it was. Nothing was off limits and she had no desire to hold back. Mom became a crusty old broad! I’ve noticed this development in many people, of both genders, as they grow older (What do you call a male crusty old broad? A crusty old codger?) and I’ve given it some thought, especially since I notice I’m loosening up a bit on my own verbal restraint. Age frees us up. We don’t worry so much about what others think and we’re less inclined to waste our time doing things we don’t want to do, or spending that time with people we don’t really want to be with. I turn down more invitations to events I don’t really want to go to and I don’t even search my brain for some politically correct excuse. “I’m so sorry but I can’t make it” is fine. The word “should” is disappearing from my vocabulary. Perhaps it’s because there’s less time...

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