Sixty-Four Plus 3

 

I recently celebrated my 67^th birthday, and I realized that I am now closer to seventy than sixty. (I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me a year and a half ago.) You know those articles in which people reflect on how they have changed with a significant birthday? Sixty-seven isn't really significant, but I have been doing some different (and some might say strange) things.

Instead of listening Joni Mitchell or The Jefferson Starship or Bob Dylan when I am on the computer at work, I am now listening to bluegrass, Irish drinking songs, Talking Heads, The Ramones, and The Clash. (The kids left the CD’s for the last two.) They are great for when I’m entering data. Fortunately, I’m not the only worker who is desk dancing. We all have earphones, so I don’t know what everyone else likes. I am going to look into the Sex Pistols and Dead Kennedys.

I decided to make a bucket list. It is

1. Try a pink squirrel cocktail

2. Try all the kid’s cereals I never used to let in the house. Fortunately you can get variety packs so you don’t have to commit to anything. 
 

I bought a new moisturizer that cost almost twice as much as my regular moisturizer. I was so pleased with it I bought the same brand of eye cream. A gift card paid for half both times, but when I run out, I’m going to get more, gift card or not.
 

 I decided that most people are not going to “get” me or recognize my references. So when I offer a comment or observation and the hearer gets a dead fish stare and says, “Oh,” I will not think there is anything with either me or him or her.

 

I referred to God as “She” at my Bible Study Group; this is a little “too hip for the room,” as they say. The leader just rolled his eyes in a friendly way; he’s used to me.

 

I have been buying about two pounds of Swedish fish, raspberry jellies, etc. at the Mall about every two weeks. If you buy more than two pounds you get another quarter pound free.

 

I have been reading more lately, particularly serious writers, to improve my style through osmosis. (It works, too.)  But if I don’t like the books, I don’t finish them. I have done this twice to Mary McCarthy with The Groves of Academe and Cannibals and Missionaries. (In Cannibals and Missionaries, a cat dies. I’ve decided to take it upon myself to warn my friends when animals die in books, movies, or television programs.)


If anyone says that something is called something else (as in “I’ve stopped eating sugar and white flour. It’s called ’taking responsibility for your health.’”), I am going to say, “No, it’s called ‘whatever you just said it was’ (as in “No, it’s called ‘stopping eating sugar and white flour.’”)

I am only using one space after a period or question mark.To use two spaces is considered bad typology.  (Google “space after a period” and you’ll find debates as numerous and passionate as those about the final Sopranos episode.) But I’m doing it as a challenge to fifty-eight years of using two spaces. Microsoft Word corrects a no-space typo with one space, although it does not change two spaces to one. For a former English teacher, single spacing is almost heresy.

 I send hugs on Facebook.  I may start doing it live.

 

I have started praying for things for myself. And I don’t apologize. God really doesn’t have a problem with stupid or selfish requests. She’s going to do what is best. (It is easier to ask for things if I think of God as “She”.)  She’s not going to get mad at me for asking and will forgive me for getting mad if the answer is “No” or “Not now”.

When someone starts saying how much better things used to be, I have brought up dentistry and eye surgery. When they get superior about computers and Facebook, I say, “Oh, I love Facebook” and tell them how I tracked down two old boyfriends.
 

 
I realized that someone who is now 70 would not have been old enough for Pre-K if it had existed on the day I was born. Someone who is 80 would have been about to start eighth grade!  I find this fascinating and not depressing.

I never thought I would be a feisty “woman of a certain age,” although I thought it was a great thing to be. Sweet old lady was really good enough for me, since I’ve often been called sweet. ( I’m too tall to be called little.)  Maybe it’s something I can aspire to, not because I want people to have that opinion of me, but because it might be fun.

 

 

 

 

 

Not Your Grandfather's Snack Cakes

In case anyone is wondering if Woodstock Churchlady has been wimping out lately on presenting “the opinions you’re afraid to express", (See “Warning:  This Is an Opinion I Am Almost Afraid to Express", June 7, 2015), maybe this will restore her reputation as a loose cannon:

The Ashley Madison Scandal is not a big deal!

The worst offense was that of the hackers.  People are entitled to privacy when they are trying to hook up for extramarital affairs.

This is not to say that adultery isn’t wrong.  Anyone who has ever been the victim of a partner’s betrayal has suffered great, maybe unbearable, pain.  We are supposed to wait until we are married to have sex.  And with marriage equality, this means everybody.

Well, it would be nice if this is how things worked out.  (As long as we’re spinning fantasies, we might as well imagine that all marriages are deliriously happy. Good luck with that.)

But as someone’s wise old grandmother must have said, “People will be people.”  That people have affairs is, in Episcopalianspeak, “very unfortunate,” maybe even “terribly unfortunate.”  But it’s not unusual.  (Cue Tom Jones.)  How many of us have looked for love in all the wrong places?

And how many stories, novels, poems, songs, plays, and movies can you think of that are about adultery?  Some are dramatic and may have “redeeming social value” when the adulterers come to a bad end.  Some are just funny.  Marge Simpson got involved with a website “Sassy Madison” when she thought she was ordering snack cakes from Dolly Madison.  If you can decipher Middle English, The Canterbury Tales are supposed to be a hoot.

So why should the Ashley Madison scandal get so much attention?  Why are people taking such joyous interest in it?  Maybe because we are people, we need drama, even or maybe especially, if we are leading relatively virtuous lives.  Virtue can be boring.  And we might as well admit that for all our talk about minding our own business and not being judgmental, we enjoy thinking, “Well, at least I never did that.”  Or maybe I should speak for myself.  But feel free to join me.

If you’re wondering what the point of this is and what, if anything, you are supposed to do after reading it, I can only say, “It’s whatever you want it to be and you aren’t supposed to do anything, except write a glowing comment and make this go viral.”  I’m just kidding about the last part.  But maybe the point, which I seem to make a lot, is that this scandal, like most others we are not involved in personally comes down to being all about us.  How do we react to it and can we learn anything from it or from our reaction?  I am not going to condemn anyone, since I don’t know that facts, and even if I did, it’s not my job to do so.

But, lest you think Woodstock Churchlady is being too much of a churchlady, I will say that I will follow the scandal and maybe (OK, probably) even enjoy it.  And I’ll tell God that I know it’s wrong and trust that He or She has a sense of humor.

(I hope my referring to myself in the third person didn’t annoy you too much.  I get a charge out of it, but I’ll try to restrain myself in the future.)

Celtic Thunder 

The Latest American Pastime

People must really enjoy being offended; they do it so well and so often.  Not since the seventies when feminists carried around stickers saying “This degrades women,” to slap on Barbie dolls or issues of Playboy, have people been so vocal about their right to not be slighted.  They are playing the sex card, the gender card, the race card, the poverty card, the health card.  And, I have to admit, they are often right.  And one of most offensive phenomena is White [Male] Privilege.

The only hope a white male has to escape some of the charges of white privilege is to be non-heterosexual, non-cisgendered, or handicapped.  In retaliation, whites (or European Americans) are offended that they are being accused of having privileges.  In fact, they say, they are now victims, which may come as a relief.  (Of course, many white males never thought they were privileged in the first place.)  This, of course, offends everyone who decries White Privilege.

When a person is killed by a someone of another race, gender, religion, or national origin, rather than hating that crime or even hating just the perpetrator, people organize to blame society and basically hate everyone who is not joining in the hatred.  They also wag their fingers at anyone who is a part of society that allows such things to go on. (Sometimes they include themselves, as if feeling enough guilt for something one hasn’t done personally will help the situation,)

Then people are offended because they are having the evil of others attributed to them. 

Of course, if the victim is a rich, heterosexual, white male we may be spared the guilt tripping and remorse wallowing.  At least for now.

By now, I have probably offended liberals, members of minority groups, a lot of Christians, and a lot of people who would like to see everyone treated with justice and love.

I would too.  But let’s be honest; this is never going to happen, no matter how much or how well we organize.  (This is not to say that there is not a great need for organized efforts to stop discrimination and injustice.)

But maybe we could come a little closer to the ideal by recognizing that there are always going to be differences between people and that maybe the best thing to do would be accept each other and work together and not be so eager to take offense.  Or just sit have coffee together.  We may only be able to make progress on an individual level, but maybe that is the best place to start. 

Full (or almost full) disclosure:  I am offended by old people jokes and animal abuse jokes.   I have no problem with Christian, Episcopalian, WASP, or liberal jokes.

The first time I heard this (an older version.) was when a guy I was dating played it for me, since I had told him I was a liberal.  My response was "Liberals need love, too."

An earlier version.  There are more on YouTube.