This past week, I wrote about the foibles of aging. Suffice it to say, it ain’t always easy. But as Bec said recently, Baby Boomers are getting older, and we’re not going anywhere soon because we live longer. So there. Well, she didn’t say so there.
At any rate, I saw this photo on Facebook, and it really says it all, at least as far as I’m concerned…..
Seriously, I remember the lyrics. ALL the lyrics. From ALL the songs.
Have a great weekend.
I admit to not hesitating to pick out a book because of the title or the cover. So The Floating Feldmans by Elyssa Fiedland caught my attention on both accounts. I mean, really? The Floating Feldmans? Who couldn’t want to read a book with that title?
The Feldmans aren’t close. They haven’t gathered all together for over 10 years. Annette Feldman is celebrating her 70th birthday, and she thinks it’s high time they do. She and her husband David invite them all — their daughter Elise and her husband Mitch and their teenaged son and daughter, and their son Freddie and his girlfriend Natasha — on a Caribbean cruise.
However, it seems that each of them has a secret. David has a serious illness and they haven’t told their kids. Mitch has quit his job without telling his wife. His wife, on the other hand, has developed a serious shopping addiction. And how on earth is Freddie, who failed at nearly everything he’s ever done, able to afford a suite on the ship for he and his gorgeous girlfriend?
I will admit to having a bit of a hard time getting into the book. The characters seemed so angry and unlikable, and their snarkiness towards each other got on my last nerve. It was only the clever dialogue and the descriptions of the cruise ship that kept me going.
I was glad I did, because they all redeemed themselves in the end, and parts of the book made me laugh out loud. Since my husband and I like cruising, I could definitely relate to their cruising experience.
The Floating Feldmans was worth my reading time.
Everyone Loves a Parade
Rock Steady Boxers participated in the East Mesa Veterans’ Day parade. Bill and others rode the float and demonstrated boxing techniques, while on of the coaches and I held the sign. Maggie was there with Austin and Lilly, and it was fun to have someone special cheer for us as we went by…..
Bill is the fellow in the red shirt demonstrating his speed boxing skills.
I proudly carried the sign for Rock Steady Boxing.
Good Parents
After the parade, Bill and I went to Portillo’s for an Italian Beef sandwich. Bill was proudly sporting his United States Army hat, and nothing says Happy Veterans’ Day like dripping beef. I found a table while Bill waited for our number to be called. While he was waiting, a young boy around the age of 7 or 8 came up to him, shook his hand, and said, “Thanks for your service.” Bill told me about his experience, and we both decided that child has good parents.
Witness
But we also witnessed something unpleasant that day. I turned the car onto the ramp from Gilbert Road to the Loop 202, and picked up speed as we were going down the long ramp. Suddenly, the front passenger side door of the car in front of us (which was also picking up speed) opened, and a woman tried desperately to jump out of the car. Bill and I disagree on what happened after that. I think she was pulled back into the car. Bill thinks she made it out and was trying to jump over the barrier on the side of the ramp. At any rate, Bill immediately called 911 and reported the incident. Unfortunately, we had few specific details. We didn’t know the make of the car, only that it was small and white. Maybe a Kia Sol, Bill told the dispatcher. And unfortunately, we hadn’t been able to get the license plate number either. We did what we could, and I have been praying for the woman ever since.
Who Are the People In My Neighborhood?
Well, truth be told, we weren’t actually in our neighborhood when we spotted this sign. It was, however, too close for comfort…..
I sent the photo to our house co-owner Jen, and her response suggested perhaps on the other side of the sign, it read: We can flip you into a nice, updated Meth home! Sigh.
Beep Beep
On a happier note, our roadrunner is still running along our fence. We saw it the evening that Bec and I sat on our patio and couldn’t remember any names. We did, however, recognize the bird as a roadrunner…..
Ciao.
Sometime in January, Netflix is scheduled to begin streaming the sixth season of Grace and Frankie, the wonderful comedy about two aging women whose husbands leave them for each other. While their husbands’ marriage to one another is certainly a part of the show’s narrative, it isn’t the driving story line. Instead, the program looks at two women facing the problems of aging. Frankie and Grace stars Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin, and they play their respective parts spectacularly. It is fun to watch them struggle with technology and their frustrations about their grown children and real-life problems like not being able to walk fast enough across a street to beat the light before it changes.
It makes me happy to see that television might — just MIGHT — be starting to realize that Baby Boomers are aging, and if we can’t laugh about that fact, we will live our golden years mighty depressed.
Another Netflix program that deals with aging is The Kominsky Method, starring Michael Douglas and Alan Arkin. The Kominsky Method also looks at aging, but from a man’s perspective. Douglas plays Sandy Kominsky, a failed actor who now runs a respected acting school. Alan Arkin plays Norman Newlander, a successful agent who not only represented Sandy Kominsky, but is his best friend. The writing is very funny, and the situations the two men face — just like in Grace and Frankie — are realistic. Things like death of friends and loved ones, prostate issues, sex when you’re a senior citizen are all dealt with in a funny and way that hits home.
In the first episode of Season 2, the two men are driving in the car. Out of the blue, Norman asks Sandy, “Do you ever forget words?” Sandy agrees and tells a funny story of a situation in which he forgot a word. Throughout the rest of that episode, the men keep forgetting words.
Perhaps I find this especially funny because I am the Queen of Forgetting Words. I recently texted my son to ask him: What’s the word that means a team that was expected to lose actually wins? A few minutes or so later, my phone dings. Upset? Court asks me.
THAT’S IT!
I’m pretty sure the reason it took so long for him to respond was because he took the time to look up nearby Memory Care facilities.
The other day Bec was visiting. The two of us sat out on our patio, each with a glass of wine (which Court would probably think I don’t really need). We talked about a variety of things from movies we liked to our favorite actors and so on. But much of our conversation consisted of both of us trying to come up with someone or something’s name. She couldn’t remember the name of one of her favorite Christmas movies (Deck the Halls). I couldn’t remember the name of one of my favorite Christmas movies (Love, Actually). Meg Ryan’s name escaped me. At one point, Bec and I were laughing so hard at ourselves, we were crying. “We need to use a sentence that has a direct object,” I said through my tears of laughter.
One of the critics from Rotten Tomatoes gave The Kominsky Method a pretty good review: Full of humor and heart, The Kominsky Method paints a surprisingly poignant — if a little paint-by-numbers — portrait of life and aging, elevated by two top-notch performances by legends Alan Arkin and Michael Douglas.
Can I just explain to this reviewer (who is probably 34 years old) that there is really no “paint-by-numbers” about their situation. That’s called Real Life.
And that’s why our children are already looking for rooms that will work for three…..
At Bec’s husband’s burial service seven years ago, Bill was struck by something that I didn’t even notice. Terry was buried at Arizona’s national cemetery, and so the military took care of preparing his gravestone. What Bill noticed was that the gravestone indicated that Terry had been awarded the Legion of Merit. That’s a big deal, Bill told me. A really big deal. Bill was so struck by this recognition that he refers to it often. And so, in honor of Veterans’ Day which we celebrated yesterday, he wrote this tribute about a man who served our country in an exceptional way.
By Bill McLain
About seven years ago, Kris’ brother-in-law (Beckie’s husband) Terry passed away. He had retired from the U.S. Army as a Lieutenant Colonel. In my conversations with him, he spoke of his early service in the Army, adapting computer programs to control the accuracy of artillery pieces to levels that artillery crews alone could not achieve. This early work with computers led to his recognition of the potential of computers and also led to his decision to continue his education in computer science.
Most of us who were in the military did not then – nor do we now – casually discuss what we did in the service to our country. Terry was no exception. That is why a notation on his headstone at the national cemetery in Arizona was surprising to even Beckie and his closest relatives. Although I had also been in the United States Army, I had never heard of this medal. I decided to do some research. This is what I discovered: The medal was announced in War Department Bulletin No. 40, dated August 5, 1942. Executive Order 9260, dated October 29, 1942, by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, established the rules for the Legion of Merit, and required the President’s approval for the award. Approval authority has changed over the years since 1942. In addition, from 1942 to 1944, the Legion of Merit was awarded for a fairly wide range of achievements. This was because it was, until the establishment of the Bronze Star Medal in 1944, the only decoration below the Silver Star, which could be awarded for combat valor, as well as being the only decoration lower than the Distinguished Service Medal, which could be awarded for meritorious noncombat service.
Why was Terry awarded the Legion of Merit Medal? For a period of time during Terry’s military career, he worked in Washington, D.C., for the Joint Chiefs of Staff. During that time, he worked on a program that was so confidential that he couldn’t speak about it to anyone, including his family. Bec speculated that perhaps this was when he earned the esteemed honor. We, of course, will never know for sure.
The Legion of Merit is in the following order of precedence of military awards and is one of only two that is given as a neck order (the other one being the Medal of Honor).
| Federal military decorations |
|---|
Sometimes there are heroes among us even when we aren’t aware of it.
“For You”
All I saw was smoke and fire
I didn’t feel a thing
But suddenly I was rising higher
And I felt like I just made
The biggest mistake
When I thought about my unborn child
When I thought about my wife
And the answer rang out clear
From somewhere up above
No greater gift has man
Than to lay down his life for love.And I wonder, would I give my life
Could I make that sacrifice
If it came down to it
Could I take the bullet, I would
Yes I would, for you.Maybe you don’t understand
I don’t understand it all myself
But there’s a brother on my left and another on my right
And in his pocket just like mine
He’s got a photograph
And they’re waiting for him back home
It’s weighing on my mind
I’m not trying to be a hero
I don’t wanna die
But right now in this moment, you don’t think twice.I wonder, would I give my life
Could I make that sacrifice
If it came down to it
Could I take the bullet, I would
Yes I would.You don’t think about right
You don’t think about wrong
You just do what you gotta do, to defend your own
I’d do the same
For you
Yes I would.I would give my life
I would make that sacrifice
Cause if it came down to it
Could I take a bullet
I would
Yes I would.I’d do it for you
I’d do it for you
I take a bullet
Yes I would – Keith Urban, Monty Powell
It makes me so proud that we have a national holiday in which we honor those brave men and women who serve (or have served) our country. Here are photos of two of my favorite veterans…..
Thanks to all of those who served and are still serving this wonderful country.
The past week, I’ve noticed a white SUV following me as I drove to LA Fitness in the mornings. I go three times a week — Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I noticed the car on Wednesday, and then noticed it again yesterday. I wasn’t particularly nervous. Instead, I was just so interested in the coincidence of that same car being behind me on my way to the gym. Maybe we could car pool, I thought.
As I was driving home yesterday from LA Fitness, I noticed the white SUV again. But then I noticed that it wasn’t a Honda CRV as I had noticed earlier. It was a Nissan. And suddenly the truth occurred to me. It hasn’t been the same SUV following me all this time.
You see, because of the hot temperatures, probably 90 to 95 percent of the cars in AZ are white because they reflect heat. And probably 85 to 90 percent of the cars in AZ are SUVs because, well, it seems like 85 percent of the cars everywhere are SUVs or vans.
I laughed out loud as I had this epiphany. Dang, I thought. I’m not being followed by a secret agent after all.
Have a great weekend.
According to a footnote from Jim Fergus, the author of One Thousand White Women, during the presidential term of Ulysses S. Grant, consideration of a program by which white women would volunteer to wed members of Indian tribes as a way of assimilating the Indian people into white culture was actually considered. Considered and, not surprisingly, dismissed. One Thousand White Women is the story of what might have happened had the program actually taken place.
May Dodd, the feisty daughter of well-to-do parents in the mid-1800s, left home to live with (but not marry) a man of lesser means. The unmarried couple have two children before May is sent by her parents to an institution for the mentally insane. Her diagnosis? Promiscuity.
She is all but kept as a prisoner, understandably unhappy to be confined and without her children, and there is little-to-no chance of ever seeing the light of day again. So when she learns about a new program being offered by the U.S. government that allows women to volunteer to marry Cheyenne Indian men and have their children, she is eager to join. It is her only hope of getting out of the institution.
What follows is a story about the female friendships, about attitudes of whites for Indians and Indians for whites, about the settlement of the Old West, and an eye-opening look at the treatment of the Indians at the hands of the U.S. government.
I thought the author’s use of May’s journal to tell her story was interesting, and found the writing to be compelling. It was a clever way to provide a peek at the life of Native Americans as they were being pushed out of their own lands. May Dodd’s loyalty and commitment to doing good made her a likable character. While her independence struck me as quite unrealistic in 1875, I hope that even in those days, a few women were able to stand up for themselves and fight for the rest of them.
I’m not sure the idea would ever have worked in real life, which is why it was never carried out. It made for a good story, however.
Getting Punchy
Anyone who knows anything about my husband knows that when Bill gets interested in something, he’s all in. The Rock Steady Boxing class that he has been taking has really captured his interest. In particular, he wants to improve his skills on the speed bags. Towards this end, he always wants to get there early so that he has time to practice before class. So it came as no surprise when he announced that he wanted to install a speed bag in our garage. This past week, he did just that…..
It took him a bit of time to get it set up. Yesterday afternoon, I was quietly sitting in my chair crocheting when I heard a thumping noise. I ran to the garage and found him working on the speed bag.
The Red Car
Like any good son, Dave agreed to help out his dad by driving Bill’s red sports car out to AZ. He left Denver on Friday, midafternoon. On Saturday, around 3:30, we heard the familiar roar of the engine, and knew that he had pulled up safely. I had promised Dave I would pray him here, and God answered my prayers. Now if God will just be with Bill every time he gets behind the wheel…..
Lunch Flexibility
Maggie texted me earlier this week and asked if I wanted to go to our neighborhood pho place for lunch. Darn right! She picked me up, and we happily drove to the restaurant. Unfortunately, it was gone, and the location was completely vacant. Dang, I had my taste buds all ready for pho. So we decided to try another restaurant that had recently opened up in our area: Sonson’s Pasty Company. My ground beef and potato pasty was good, but we both agreed it wasn’t pho. Sigh. I need my pho fix.
Better than Jiffy
My mother hated peanut butter. Because of this, none of her children ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as a child, at least not one made by her. Even peanut butter cookies made her crabby. Now, I believe all of her kids like peanut butter. I, for one, could eat it by the spoonful. So I was delighted when my nephew Erik introduced me to Skrewball, a peanut butter flavored whiskey. Don’t wrinkle your nose. It’s scrumptious…..
Ciao!
Something I was reading recently posed the question: Have you ever changed your name? For me, the answer is yes, I’ve changed my name three times in my life. The first time I changed my name was when I got married to my first husband. That was 1977, and while I say “I changed my name,” the fact of the matter is that the government changed my name when I said “I do.” Back in those days, had I wanted to keep my maiden name, I would have had to have it legally changed back to my birth name.
When I got married the second time, I had more options. I chose to keep my name instead of taking Bill’s last name. The reasons were twofold: 1) I was known professionally as Kristine Zierk, and it seemed problematic to all of the sudden have a different name; and 2) my son’s last name was Zierk, and for his benefit, I thought it would be nice to share the same last name.
Bill was quite understanding about my choice, but I knew it sort of bugged him. It wouldn’t have bugged him if my last name was my maiden name; however, given that my last name was that of my first husband, it troubled him a bit. So after a few years of marriage, I chose to adopt Zierk as my middle name (no hyphen). To tell you the truth, I never did anything legally to make this change. I just started calling myself by that name. I reckon by now, some 25 years later, it’s as legal as it’s going to get.
I’ve always thought that my dad and mom did a good job of naming their kids. I checked the internet to see what the most popular girls’ name was in 1948, the year my sister Bec was born. Suffice it to say that Rebecca didn’t make the top 30. But isn’t it the prettiest name? Linda was the number 1 girls’ name that year.
Kristine didn’t make the list of most popular names in 1953. In fact, according to the site I used, the highest level of popularity Kristine ever reached was 104th in 1966. Sigh. But the good news is that in 1953, the name Rebecca had snuck in at 24th place. I think my sister was responsible for its sudden popularity.
But I’m not alone, because the name Jennifer was no where to be found in the popularity list of 1957. Nowhere. Zippo. The name Mary claimed the top spot, as it had for the past five years. Rebecca was gone after its quick appearance in 1953. But some good news for me: the name Kris (not Kristine) was number 462. Four hundred and sixty two? Seriously?
Every time my mother was pregnant, the plan was to call the baby Ricky if it was a boy. All three girls would have been Ricky had they had the Y chromosome. I’m pretty sure that idea can be attributed to I Love Lucy. But suddenly, when my parents finally get their boy, he is named David. David is not a family name (though my brother’s middle name of Albert is from my paternal grandfather), nor did Lucy and Ricky Ricardo have a second child named David. Perhaps my mother had a crush on David Niven. Who knows?
At any rate, I’ve always been pleased that our names, while not weirdly odd (like Apple or Zuma), they are somewhat unique. Full disclosure: when I entered the 7th grade, I decided that I wanted to start being called Krissie. In fact, our junior high principle always called me by that name. I’m happy to say the name didn’t stick.
Nana's Whimsies 