Still Clickin

Recently, one member of our family had a Zero Birthday. The family all gathered, and we had a wonderful evening to celebrate this special event. It wasn’t just another birthday, it was a Zero Birthday. It deserved special treatment.

We all seem to measure our lives by Zero Birthdays.

• At One and Zero, you’ve made it to the fifth grade and you’re not a baby anymore. You’ve become more confident of your likes and dislikes. You have friends, and you have fun. You’re doing more important chores that really help at home. Sometimes, the stories you imagine yourself are better than to ones you see on TV. You’re starting to learn that you are better at some things and worse at others.

• At Two and Zero, you’re not quite legal, but almost. The trauma of teenage years seem a distant memory, and you’ve developed a much better sense of yourself. You’ve moved away from home and consider yourself independent. You’re starting to realize that you might not have all the answers. You’ve just noticed that your parents suddenly seem to be getting a lot smarter.

• At Three and Zero, you know you’re a real adult, whatever that is. You’ve faced, made, and are making a number of life-defining choices, e.g. marriage, parenthood, education, career, location, and friends. You’ve got more choices to make, but you are comfortable making them. You know that there are people that really count on you. Life is very engaging, but can be very frenetic.

• At Four and Zero, you wonder if you’re starting to get ‘old’ because you’re no longer thirty-something. You’ve gotten to know yourself pretty well and are becoming comfortable with that picture. If you have teenagers, you are learning what wallpaper feels like, ever present but ignored. Your career is now defined, and you have achieved a few distinctions and bruises in the process. You are making more than you had planned, but you wonder if you are peaking. You measure yourself, probably too harshly, and wished you had attained more. Some friends always seem to be able to be doing more. Other friends have fallen away, but you know a select few will hang with you forever.

• At Five and Zero, the wrinkles in the mirror are sending you the message that the clock keeps ticking. You really don’t feel ‘old’, but you know that the jump in your step isn’t quite as bouncy. You’ve felt the sting of college tuitions, and the shock that your former teenagers are talking to, rather than at, you and are listening for your answer. Your kids act like they are adults, even though you picture them at age ten, or two. You’re ‘established’ in your community and have felt the joys of many achievements. You are reaping the fruits of your career, both positive and negative.

• At Six and Zero, you’re worried about this looming specter called retirement. Have you saved enough, and more importantly, what will you DO? You’re very engaged in a number of activities, and your daily schedule has many facets to it. You can’t imagine loosing that diversity, so you push it out of your mind. Your greatest delight is the arrival of grandchildren. You notice that the wrinkles have become deeper, and a couple of gray hairs have appeared in your eyebrows. You’ve decided to ignore the latest technical gizmo and have dismissed it as trivial. You’re learning the first names of a few new doctors.

• At Seven and Zero, you assume you’ll be offered the senior discount without asking for it. You’re not an ‘elder’, but you’re definitely a ‘senior’. You’ve begun to notice that younger people dismiss you, with kindness, or simply ignore you. You’re starting to think more and more about the big questions of life and living, and suddenly the questions seem to have become simpler, the answers more obvious. You know you are now officially ‘old’, and you know that your bones get stiff and creak where they never did. Your memory skills may not have ebbed, but you treat them as if they did. You hear the clock ticking more loudly in your mind.

• At Eight and Zero, you celebrate having made this milestone. Haven’t had the experience, so only conjecture is possible, but you must start hearing the word ‘elderly’ more and more. If you’re not committed to a certain amount of regular physical exercise, you’ll start overhearing the word, ‘frail’, when others nearby are conversing. Time for health maintenance activities has to take up more of your day.

• At Nine and Zero, ????

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There are certain rites of passage that one must experience as an active senior citizen in this US of A. You first sign up for the AARP because you want to become aware of what’s going on in Washington and elsewhere. Then, it gets serious when you become a card-carrying Medicare enrollee. After that, comes Downsizing and Volunteering. This holiday season we took the next step, the Artificial Christmas Tree.

For a number of years we heard the comments. ‘Everyone said’ that a real tree was simply too much of a hassle. Think of all the effort and strain involved. You have to - go to the lot, tie it to the car, get it off the car, fresh cut the base, set in water, set it into the stand, move it into the house, fill the base with water, clean up the needles, trim the odd branches, string the lights, and keep watering it throughout the season. As you get older, all of this hassle will become too much and you will simply have to change to an artificial tree.

We heard this advise for years, and gleefully ignored it. We’ve always had a real tree and cherish those memories - going to the tree lots of the church or Boy Scouts, then making the expedition to the tree farms with the kids and chopping our own, going to the tree farms with the dog when the kids were older, scaling back to the convenience of trees from a chain store. But the trees were real. The scent pervasive. We were proud to host the Balsams, Scotch Pines, Douglas firs, Frasers, and Nobles. It meant that the season had truly arrived.

Convinced that sooner or later we had to make the change, this year we faced this next rite of passage. We went out and bought a poly-something tree. Frankly, I was a bit embarrassed when I checked out at the register. I threw the box into the trunk of the car since there was no need to tie it on. Then, brought it home, set it up, spread out each little ‘branch’, plugged it in, and . . . Viola! Instant Christmas.

We brought in some pine branches to add a bit of scent, but I feel a bit less authentic this year. It is easier. It has a perfect shape. There is no need to water, but . . . somehow, I miss the hassle. I’m not sure I was ready for ‘easier’.

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we all have questions about ourselves
I know deep in my own DNA there has been a lifelong attraction to the sea
I know all my grandparents and great-grandparents were raised hard by the sea
I know that one grandfather spent his working life on the water
I know the sea is in my blood . . . but

visiting the actual towns where they were reared
where today’s ease and seaside charm masks the former remoteness
where they lived, played and worked without the gifts of electricity or automobiles
where the damp winter winds off the sea could knife through knitted wools
where their very survival depended upon the crops and the herds

hearing about a new land, what must they have felt
a land where your dreams were not held captive
a land where opportunity was the birthright of every citizen
a land where your father’s or grandfather’s school didn’t forever fix your status
a land where the ‘future’ beckoned

leaving their family, friends, and homestead
they traveled a sea and braved the strangeness of a new land
they dared to dream, then toiled, struggled, and stretched to reach for it
they gifted their own children with education and riches
they had not known

this strange new country
where slavery and slaves were imported from afar
where the conflict between slavery and equal opportunity was faced
where the principle of equality triumphed the ancient mindset of ownership
where the descendant of a slave could become an elegant First Lady

how strange a people we Americans are
rejecting even the very concept of royalty
allowing immigrants entry to share in our achievements
ignoring birthrights and peerages in favor of talents and efforts
rewarding achievements rather than lineage

America is far from perfect . . . but it is a place
where our children can still strive to surpass us
where we have the freedom to make even more progress against prejudice
where success, however we personally define it, is within our reach
where the dreams of a remote seaside boy and girl were fulfilled

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Lately, for an unrelated reason, I’ve had to visit a number of senior centers. Having never been to a senior center before, I had no idea what to expect. Would they act as a center for social services? Would they cater more to the frail than to the active? Would they be buzzing with social activities or quiet and staid? Would it be the type of place I could see myself ever becoming involved with?

The answer is - all of the above.

Although into my seventh decade, I still consider myself to be blessed with good health. Despite losing two teeth and gaining three scars last year, I still am a “second story man”, i.e. climbing the extension ladder, cleaning the gutters, and fixing the roof. In other words, “active”.

Would I want to become involved with a senior center? The answer is - it depends.

Like any social organization, it takes no more than five minutes to size up any particular senior center. In some, you felt the buzz as soon as you walked in the door.

At one center, bridge, ping-pong, book discussions, lectures and excursions were all in process at once. People were quite engaged. There was laughter and enthusiasm. The staff was welcoming and friendly. You not only felt that you could become involved, you hoped you could keep up.

Contrast that with another center where quiet pervaded the space. There were a number of people there, but only a few were even talking. Perhaps they were there for a mid-day meal. Possibly, this was the day that everyone else was off on an excursion. I do not know. I do know that the staff seemed quite defensive and ineffective. I do know that I would not want to return.

Ironically, these two centers were in located in similar demographics and less than five miles apart. Yet the difference was night and day. What that tells me is, if you are looking for a place to meet other seniors for activities and social interaction, shop around.

Like shoes, each of the different senior centers seemed to have their own style, comfort level, and purpose. I would shop until I located a place that fit mine - even if it meant another half-hour riding the bus.

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Sometimes I feel that I am committing a capital offense in today’s society. But I feel I must confess it outright and post it here today.

I do NOT have a Cell Phone! I do NOT Text! I am NOT on Facebook! I do NOT even Instant Message!

It is not that I am adverse to the technology. It neither confuses nor intimidates me. It is simply that I choose NOT to participate. I once used to pay for a cell plan that had more minutes than towers but did not provide a compelling solution to any real problem. In fact, by ringing in the midst of meetings and mealtimes, it often created a few.

When people know that they can access you directly, they seem to feel a sense of entitlement to your time. It is as if you have given them control over your priorities. You either accept their call, and risk the diversion from your priorities, or screen it out, and risk insulting them. If an issue is truly that critical, should you really rely on today’s cell phone technology?

Have you ever listened to the trivial conversations that people carry on over their cell phones? In fact, it is hard to avoid them since they frequently can invade your space in many trains, buses, or store aisles. Unfortunately, this increase in instant access seems to have become inversely proportional to the thoughtfulness of people’s answers. Is this technology really providing an enhancement?

I fully realize that my perspective is not popular. Today’s society seems to thrive on urgency, a fair amount of tension, and a high level of background noise. But does that lead to achievement? Does it lead to excellence? I think not.

It is difficult to escape the noise. People have devices plugged into their ears whenever they walk, ride, or fly. It is as if they are afraid of their own thoughts, of silence. It is as if they fear that they will be diminished if they are not constantly connected. As a result, our society seems to have lost the refinement in our thoughts that is the gift of reflection. The ‘urgent’ has superseded the ‘important’ to the point where the ‘important’ seems to get watered down to the point that it can blend with the ‘urgent’.

For example, compare two newspapers, USA Today and the New York Times. The former presents the news in sound bites, the latter with background and some perspective. Ironically, even USA Today is losing readership to the Web, which offers even briefer bullets.

My career was focused upon selecting and implementing technologies that would enable organizations to leapfrog, i.e. to do more with less. Technologies that did not provide extensive leverage were ignored or discarded.

Today, we seem to have become so enamored with what technology can do that we ignore the vital question of, “Should it?” The right answer, of course, will require some reflection . . . if anybody has the time.

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A couple of days ago, my friend, Ron, gave me a great gift. He showed me the way to the sea. Standing on the top of a bluff, we could look 150 feet straight down to see the waves lapping the shoreline. But without wings, those last 150 feet were intimidating. Ron said, “follow me.”

He stepped through a slight notch in the land, and a path opened to reveal a series of dips in the earth that acted like steps. These dips were well worn by others that had trod them before, and step-by-step we ventured down the side of the bluff. Climbing over a fallen tree that had been claimed by the wind, a set of train tracks and a rock wall, we found ourselves on the beach itself with the open sea before us. The sea did not disappoint.

Filling our lungs with the rich essence of low tide mixed with the clean scent of salt, I knew I had found my way home again. The sea has always been in my blood, which was leached from different European shorelines. Since my early years, I have always felt most at home with the sea - in it, on it, or under it.

Two days later, while walking along the beach, I encountered some old shipwrecks along the shoreline. It was then that I met Curt. He was warning me to stay off his property, which extended down the water’s edge - wherever the tide decided it would be that day. Curt’s family had always lived by the sea, and we started talking about the differences between the shores on the East Coast, where I grew up, and the West Coast, where Curt did.

I was relating to Curt how, on the East Coast, we would awake in the morning to the smashing sound of clam shells being dropped from above by the sea gulls, who would then have their feast. I was surprised that the same thing did not happen in the West. Curt revealed that it did happen when he was young, but now the clams have all but disappeared.

It was then I realized the biggest difference between the two coasts, i.e. railroads. Because the East Coast is generally irregular and flat, the railroads were located a few miles inland. That precious dancing line between land and sea, where nutrients and life thrive, has been bisected by the railroads on the West Coast. Faced with a continuous series of bluffs, the rails were built right along the shore. The nutrients are blocked, the clams are dying out, and even the orcas, much further up the food chain, are disappearing.

The sea is truly a gift, but like any living thing, it requires respect and nourishment. Ironically, someone could make the same observation about senior citizens.

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An obituary for Mr. Common Sense -

This obit appeared in my email today. It was originally published in the London Times during 2007. As my correspondent suggested, it was probably written by an English Headmaster/Headmistress. Maybe we should have a “Wry Humor” category.

Today, we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

• knowing when to come in out of the rain;
• why the early bird gets the worm;
• life isn’t always fair; and
• maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don’t spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge). His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of

• a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate;
• teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and
• a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student,

only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an Aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn’t defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.

He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;

• I Know My Rights
• I Want It Now
• Someone Else Is To Blame
• I’m A Victim

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.

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We have all lived long enough to remember many historic events. My first was the bombing of Pearl Harbor. I remember standing by a shrub at the side of our house when I heard my Mother shout, “Oh no!” There have been many events since, VE-Day, VJ-Day, etc., when you remember what happened and exactly where you were and what you were doing at the time you heard.

This morning, I was sitting at the counter sipping coffee when for the first time in the history of our nation a black man was sworn in as our nation’s president. Looking at the throngs assembled and listening to the interviews on the Mall, the one common trait you detected was an immense sense of pride. America was standing tall. It was once again demonstrating that freedom was possible.

Traveling overseas, you repeatedly encounter very different cultures. . .The manager of our London Office believed his six year-old daughter’s life was over because she wasn’t admitted to a certain school. The Chinese people in Kuala Lumpur recognize that they must limit their access and aspirations. The Shiites in Bahrain realize that only the lower paying jobs are available to them.

Once, I was verbally assaulted by a potential client who observed that the stark repression in their country was no different than America’s was to its black people. They were just more forthright about it. I was stung by the truth in his statement, and I knew that my counter arguments lacked conviction.

Today, that changed. Today is a very historic day. Today, two hundred and thirty-three years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence, America has proved once again that freedom can ring out. This time for a black man.

Racial prejudice still does exist. As a nation, we still have a lot more work to do. But for race relations in this country, this is HUGE! I truly believe that people now will consciously shift their vision from the color of a person’s skin to the look in a person’s eye. Once we get that shift firmly in place, we can relegate racial issues to a footnote.

There is an excitement in this land today, because Americans realize they effected this change themselves. They are standing proudly together and enjoying this moment of history. Personally, I feel quite proud that, during the past seven decades of my life - especially during the past three - my country has managed to achieve this amazing progress. I feel privileged that I have lived to witness it.

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Is social security really guilt money? Although we seniors will receive a 5.8% cola increase in 2009 (which will partially compensate for the shortfall this year.), are these funds intended to be a retirement benefit or to compensate for the age discrimination that we face everyday?

During this holiday season, it is nice to notice the many senior citizens working at the various stores. They are invariably courteous, friendly, and helpful. They act as if they actually care. Take a good look at them. They will be gone in January.

Any employee in the US knows that finding a job becomes more difficult as you get older. Once you reach out beyond your personal network, and become just another resume in the Inbox, your odds of succeeding become considerably more difficult. There are some organizations that recognize the problem and offer help. 40Plus has been around for years, and its local chapters are dedicated to helping workers over age forty find employment.

Imagine what it is like after age sixty-five!

A personal friend of mine is an employment specialist who works specifically in the sector of senior citizens. As he reports, he can find jobs for people, but the pay scale is typically limited to $10 or $12/hour. Although some of his clients may have operated as top executives or academics and have advanced degrees and credentials, the best he can find for them is $10 to $12/hour.

Senior citizens don’t want a handout. Like any person, they simply want an opportunity and a chance to demonstrate their value. In the current economic climate, where portfolios have been reduced by forty percent or more, they also want to survive. It is a tragedy that age prejudice in our current society severely limits their ability to do that.

So it would appear we are back to our original question.

Is social security really guilt money?

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Having spent most of my working life in New York City, that melting pot of humanity, I was always used to recognizing other people’s celebrations. As the days became shorter and darker, it was delightful to encounter celebratory lights and smiles. The context that framed those smiles varied with their cultural backgrounds. For some it was Christmas, for others Hanukkah, for some Kwanzaa, for still others Hari Raya. (I’m sure there are other holidays, but these were celebrated by the people with whom I worked.) As a true New Yorker, however, you realized that it was your responsibility to get the date right and share greetings and best wishes for all the various holidays, by name.

Where did all that respect for diversity go? “Happy Holidays” just doesn’t cut it for me. It ignores diversity rather than celebrates it. It lacks style. Frankly, I find it just plain lazy!

Over the years, I certainly have made mistakes, wishing people best wishes for the wrong holiday. I’ve also been on the receiving end of such “mistakes”, but I’ve never taken offense. I don’t understand how you can be offended by someone wishing you well. They are trying to share their humanity and joy of celebration. How can anyone in their right mind be offended?

Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day lack this diversity. Because they are common celebrations, they pass more easily through the social consciousness. They are celebrations of common survival, that we still have both food and time. As a consequence, they are socially safer celebrations. The diversity of cultures and beliefs are not involved. You don’t have to be so socially sensitive. They take less “work”.

Trying to force the celebrations of diverse cultures and religions into the same “safe” mold, however, ignores their realities. To me, “Happy Holidays” doesn’t say that I’m trying to be sensitive. Instead, it says that I’m either too casual or too lazy to care.

So let us rejoice in the richness of our diversity. I send you best wishes. Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Joyous Kwanzaa! Selamat Hari Raya!

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