Is Childhood a Permanent State Now?

            Some of us are old enough to remember when adults never wore sneakers. They didn’t play with toys either. Years ago, kids had their idols; Willie Mays, Elvis Presley and Grace Kelly, to name a few. Adults back then knew better than to idolize stars, be they athletes, actors or recording artists. Weren’t they too busy making something of their own lives to take more than a passing glance at celebrities? 

            But times have changed. Sometimes I think the difference between children and adults is mostly a matter of height, wrinkles and bald spots. I saw a man in his mid-thirties in a medical setting the other day wearing a Superman pajama top. Now I ask you, could you picture President Dwight D. Eisenhower, the man who as a five star general led the D-Day invasion on the beaches of Normandy, in such a getup?

            I also saw a woman, well into her fifties with green hair and a lip ring that looked suspiciously like a piece of jewelry that would have looked great adorning a woman’s ear. Just for a moment imagine if you will, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton walking around with green, or even purple hair.  

            There was a time when kids were expected to wear baseball caps and sneakers. Kids played with toys which were often designed to emulate real life. In the 1950’s for example, reflective of the times, girls had dolls and baby carriages. Boys had fire engines and model trains. As they became adults, ball caps were traded for fedoras. Wingtips replaced sneakers. Life became serious and young adults gave up toys for jobs, marriage and family. We don’t so much give up toys as we do replace them now. Don’t even think of suggesting that cell phones and i-Pads aren’t to some degree toys for adults. Listen, would Lee Iacocca have had time for Farmville when he was running Chrysler?

            Perhaps the most obvious piece of evidence that childhood may well be permanent is the way we dress. Adults and kids today dress pretty much alike. What started as business casual is now indistinguishable from kid casual as far as I can tell. Tattoos have replaced ties. I wonder if the transition from adulthood to a more or less permanent state of childhood is in some way accountable for our growing lack of civility. As kids we threw tantrums. It was allowed, sort of. We were kids after all. Adults these days seem to feel entitled to tantrums. And there is no one to pack them off in their Superman pajamas for misbehaving. I mean when did we start heckling First Ladies? 

One of the key differences between childhood and adulthood is the requirement that we accept responsibility for our actions. It seems to me that whether you’re talking about a Jodi Arias trying to beat a murder rap by blaming the victim, or a politician trying to pass the buck, accepting responsibility is not fashionable. A lot of people old enough to know better, simply want a do over, as if life itself was nothing more than a game of stickball.  

Whether we are actually extending childhood well beyond the traditional boundaries, advertisers certainly treat us like children. I just saw a commercial for Meow Mix. Two cats are singing, “meow, meow,” and so on. Just below the singing cats you can follow the bouncing ball with the translation running across the screen. Now unless the people at Meow Mix think kids are making household cat food buying decisions, it seems clear they don’t have much respect for adults.   

How about birthday parties? We loved them as kids. If you Google “adult birthday parties” you get more than 20 million options to choose from. Think about your grandparents for a moment. Do you recall extravagant birthday celebrations being routine for them?  Would a real adult be pleased if someone threw a Superman party for him? Well, maybe the guy I mentioned earlier would like it. I like to think at least some of us would detest the idea.

Is permanent childhood a bad thing? Perhaps not entirely. Childhood is indeed short, especially now when TV programming robs tots of their innocence in one evening. And we do live a lot longer than previous generations did. Maybe an extended childhood is inevitable. Still, I think most of us feel better when there are some real adults in our midst. Don’t look at me though. All I want for my birthday is a baseball board game with dice, please.  

Mars Anyone?

Have you signed up yet for the one way trip to Mars? 78,000 people from all over the world have applied to the Netherlands based Mars One to make the one way trip. Young and old alike have decided that life on earth is not a big deal. Knowing they can never come back isn’t a deterrent to these adventurous people. They want out and can hardly wait until 2023 when the first 4 lucky winners will depart for the Red Planet. There is no maximum age for applicants, no required technical background, nationality or language. Well, astronaut candidates will have a few years to learn English if they don't speak it already. This requirement should excite members of the English only movement here in the USA. 

Of course some people question the sanity of anyone who would agree to make a one way trip to Mars. It seems a lot more people would be willing to make the trip if it was more like going to Disney World. You know, fly to Orlando, go on the rides, stay in the hotel and then head back home to Little Rock.

Had these round trippers been alive in say, the seventeenth century, it’s probably safe to say they would not have been aboard any wooden ships bound for America. They’re probably here now only because an ancestor got kicked out of London and was sent to the colonies. These naysayers obviously don’t share a bit of DNA with the Puritans who came to America. Did those brave voyagers realize they would never see their homeland again? That this was a one way trip? Certainly! And I guarantee you not one of them was thinking, “In America I can get me a wide screen TV and watch NASCAR and All Star Celebrity Apprentice on Sundays.”

And you can be just as sure that today’s scaredy cats live within a square mile of where those naughty ancestors landed. You just know when the pioneers set out to settle the west their great-great grandfathers thought the people getting on the wagon trains were fools. “Why would you go to parts unknown Clem? I hear tell there’s wild Indians and grizzly bears nine feet tall. Why, you can’t never come back here.”  

A spirit of adventure and a desire for a better life for their children was what drove the Mayflower passengers and later, the pioneers, to say goodbye forever to what they knew and head for the great unknown.        

Now some might say, “That is the difference. How could anyone have a better life on Mars than they could here on earth?  For starters, earth has oxygen, not to mention Starbucks.” Maybe it’s what Mars won’t have that makes it so appealing. No unemployment for example. Listen, it’s been rumored that the entire city of Detroit has applied for jobs on Mars. And since a day on Mars is 40 minutes longer than here on earth, there won’t be any excuse for not sweating to the oldies every day. And you just know there’s at least one applicant that applied in hopes of being selected so their partner will get the message. It’s over. For good this time.

For the astronauts who do decide to go, I wonder how quickly they will lose interest in everything happening on earth. For their sake, I hope it’s quick. I mean imagine you’re from Chicago. You get to Mars in early October, just in time to find out that the Cubs are going to the World Series. Your brother-in-law Carl could easily have scored a couple of top notch tickets for you. Forget it. You decided to take a one way cruise to Mars.

Our ancestors didn’t have that problem. There were no cell phones or iPads back then. Benjamin Franklin hadn’t even discovered electricity yet. No worries and no regrets about who won the British Open for residents of the Plymouth Colony, that’s for sure.    

If you’re interested in making the trip though, be advised that there will be a minor fee associated with submitting your application. The amount varies by the gross national income of the applicant's home country. For US citizens the fee is $38. It’s a better deal than the Pilgrims had. They agreed to be indentured servants for seven years.  

An Unexpected Request for Help

I had not heard from Philip for several years so I was quite surprised to get his email yesterday informing me that he was stuck in Italy. It seems he was robbed at gunpoint, all of his valuables taken from him. I was shocked that in a country where there are fewer than 12 firearms owned per 100 people, that such a thing might happen. We’re not talking about the USA after all.

            But I digress. Philip’s situation was worrisome indeed. The manager of the hotel where he was staying wouldn’t let him leave until his bill was paid. He didn’t say so, but he was probably subsisting on chestnuts and imported Livingston Cellars Chianti. Philip was indeed in dire straits and he was asking for my help. I was perplexed that Philip would write to me rather than say, people he had actually been in touch with on a regular basis.

            It’s not that I didn’t want to help my somewhat distant friend. I just felt he was behaving rather presumptuously by assuming I was in a position to send him a few dollars. I mean I haven’t heard from him in years. The subject of money had never even come up with the possible exception of a brief discussion about Toastmasters club dues. And if I did lend him money, would he pay me back? Suppose it was a scam he was running on people he didn’t feel he needed anymore? I hate being played for a fool.

            I’m not heartless. I did respond to his email. I figured, since he was in Italy; why not ask him to pick up a few things that are hard to get here in Nashville? Let’s face it, Nashville is a great city but Little Italy here consists entirely of Buca di Beppo and the Macaroni Grill. So I sent him a list and promised him I would repay him if and when he arrived home safely with the goods. I did express a good deal of sympathy for the robbery thing of course. 

            When I didn’t get an immediate response to my request, I wondered if my suspicions that Philip was scamming me might be true. That’s when I decided to look up my old contact information for Philip. I would call him at his office. If he picked up, I would know my baked goods and Italian leather shoes were just a pipe dream.

            As will happen, the number I called was no longer in service. Maybe he changed jobs? Was he living in Italy now? I tried his home number. A woman answered. She sounded like Philip’s wife. Not knowing what to do, I hung up. What if Philip really was trapped in a hotel in Italy? Maybe she didn’t know. Who wants to deliver that kind of news? Or, since he found it necessary to get in touch with me, maybe she did know and had already refused to lift a finger for him.  

            I had a sleepless night wondering whether I should have wired him enough to at least cover the cost of the items I requested. Well, I’m happy to report that it was a false alarm. I finally heard from Philip this morning. It seems that his computer was hacked by hackers on foreign shores. In hindsight, I should have recognized the real scam right away.

For one thing, Philip is a very bright fellow. I probably should have questioned the misspellings in his original message and the odd sentence structure. I guess I assumed he was writing under a lot of pressure being broke and no doubt having to borrow someone’s laptop.

Live and learn. Philip apologized for the inconvenience which I certainly appreciated. But I really wanted those handmade shoes.              

if i die

I recall a Mad Magazine cartoon where an old man on his death bed says to his friend of many years, “Come closer” He’s obviously about to utter his last words. The friend leans in. “Closer,” says the old man. Then, touching his friend’s arm with his forefinger, he says, “Last tap.” He dies with a satisfied smile on his face.

It is the ultimate squelch isn’t it? The problem is there is no way we can possibly be sure we can get life’s last tap. That is, until now.

            Thanks to the Web and its great gift to mankind, social media, we can now have life after life. Yes, services like Deadsoci.al, Liveson.org and Facebook’s “if i die,” make it possible for us to leave messages for friends, loved ones and even enemies.

            Consider the possibilities! Had the Internet been ubiquitous just 30 years ago, we could still be receiving messages from Richard Nixon. The idea of sending messages post mortem isn’t new, of course. Wills and letters to loved ones, drafted in the waning days of life, probably go back to pre-historic times when cavemen painted images on rocks. Even video messages go way back, all the way back to the 1980s when everyone grappled with their VCRs.

Still, how many people can you reach on mere paper documents? Really, how many letters can you write? The cost of postage alone is murder. Well, my friends we are no longer chained to any such limitations. Like the all you can eat buffet at the Golden Corral, you can offer a full plate of wisdom long after you’ve entered the next world. Those of us still earthbound can enjoy every morsel.

When three cyberspace executors of your choosing have verified your passing, your thoughts can be posted, just like before your demise. The difference is you don’t have to deal with smart aleck responses. You can even set up a delivery schedule for your tweets, texts and posts. It’s a new kind of immortality. Imagine sending your spouse, your adult children or maybe your old boss emails for months or even years after you die!

            “Honey, you’re always late filing our income taxes. April 15^th is right around the corner. Don’t wait to the last minute again. Get off your rear end and take care of it.” Your loved one will appreciate the reminder.

            Have you been busting with a secret? After you’ve been laid to rest, you can finally tell all. People love being let in on secrets, even dead people’s secrets. Imagine if you will a deathbed YouTube video to be sent to your siblings after you’re laid to rest.

“Hi Joe. Hi Mary.” (Long coughing spell)

“Remember when Mom died and we cleaned her house? Well, I want you to know I found twenty thousand dollars stashed in one of her suitcases.

“You guys were so busy arguing over those stupid Disney World souvenir spoons, I had no trouble sticking the suitcase in the trunk of my Mercedes. That vacation Melody and I took to the South Pacific? Mom’s little stash paid for that trip. We must have toasted you two from the promenade deck a thousand times. Wow! Feels good to get it off my chest! By the way Mary, I’m leaving you my share of those Disney spoons.”

These afterlife services aren’t the least bit shy or reserved about suggesting the possible uses of their cyberspace services. One site even goads you into settling old scores, using a graphic of the middle finger to emphasize the point. A capital idea, no? Shouldn’t we all strive for revenge as a final legacy without the opportunity to make amends? Last tap indeed.

Most of us believe in the afterlife. According to one poll, 82% of Americans believe in life after death. But most of us don’t really believe in death, at least not our own. The people at Facebook understand this. They could have called their service “when I die.” Instead they chose “if I die.”  We treat our own demise as a conditional thing, something that might happen; as if the laws of nature don’t apply to us.
Still, all the evidence suggests that everyone eventually will exit planet earth. Question is, where are those messages Deadsoci.al will send for us really going to come from? My advice? Play it safe. Be nice…even after you’re gone.    

We Didn't Start the Fire but we did add fuel

           Yelp Pandora, Spotify, someone help me clarify.

           Pinterest, Foursquare, please end this nightmare.

            If you’re over a certain age say 60, there is an excellent chance you’ve never heard of the Internet applications I just referenced. If you have, by some chance, heard of them you are probably only vaguely aware of their purposes. I heard a speech Saturday about the circle of life and how the time comes when you are no longer standing center stage in your personal world. The spotlight is moving (as it should) to your children, younger co-workers, even grandchildren.

            In generations past it was harder perhaps, to detect the signs that the universe’s stage manager was trying, gently at first, to help that generation’s elders to exit stage left gracefully. The signs weren’t as obvious then as they are now. Change happened at a relative snail’s pace. And St Peter’s admonition “likewise ye younger submit yourselves to the elder,” was still taken seriously.   

            Today, thanks in large part to the Internet and mobile applications, change happens so quickly that we are in a constant race to keep up, keep abreast and for some, stay ahead of the curve. When we are young the race is exhilarating. We are bursting with energy, we are eager to learn, have ideas to churn, we’re ready to earn. Mistakes? No fear. We have time to burn.

            But time and the relentless torrent of alternating fortune and reversal wear on us. Don’t misunderstand; it isn’t that our knees squawk every time we stand up. That our eyes struggle to see the not so fine print, that the volume knob on our car radio is shocked by the setting we now demand. No, these are not the signs that whisper, “The spotlight now belongs to the younger ones.” We have more energy than you might imagine. There is plenty of curiosity too, cat be damned.

            What’s different then? I believe it’s the chilling realization that hits us at a certain age; the sense that time really is very precious. I have noticed this with good friends. I hear a lot of wistful comments, tinged with a mixture of regret and a grudging sign of acceptance. It’s a well worn path, gingerly trod by the aging who took the journey before us.

Young people have voracious appetites for the new and different.  Older people wake up one day and realize they must choose.

Do we stay tuned to the endless loop of the latest and the greatest; the Bachelor’s pick, the next American Idol, the latest must have app for our iPhone 5? What’s happening in North Korea, Iran, and Pakistan? Are you keeping up with global warming, the economy and the fiscal cliff? We aren’t weary in the physical sense, not yet. But now, the time seems right to narrow down our interests to subjects –and tasks useful to us and those around us.  

Communication technology is changing the world in fundamental ways in the same manner that industrialization changed the world. The changes are happening much faster this time.

When Billy Joel sang “We didn’t start the fire” listing 100 headlines between 1949 and 1989, it was perhaps, a prescient message. Yet, I wonder how many people born in 1989, could identify the people or events Mr. Joel referenced in his song. For that matter have they ever even heard the song? How many know who Billy Joel is? The good news is of course, anyone who wants to grasp the references can simply Google them.

Funny thing is Billy could write an updated version beginning in 1989. His song could easily run twice as long. In case he’s interested, I‘ve given him a head start.

Yelp Pandora, Spotify, someone help me clarify.

            Pinterest, Foursquare please end this nightmare.

 

The fire is just starting. 

It's Valentine's Day; Go for it!

Valentine’s Day is a perfect “holiday” for the middle of February. We can barely remember the Christmas Holidays and it’s too soon for winter to be really over. Romance is simply a great way to stay warm. Although you can choose to bury your feelings at any time, happily, you’re never too old to be romantic.

If you’re fortunate enough to be involved in a relationship, whether it’s budding like the spring roses we’re dreaming about or, mature like the fully flowering, tall magnolia trees we have in the South, celebrate Valentine’s Day with your partner. Yes, we’ve had to compromise, cajole, and capitulate from time to time. As have our partners. Today is a day to put all that aside.  

Valentine’s Day is the perfect moment to rewind the tape. Do you remember the moment you knew this person was different from all the others, so special you could barely catch your breath? “You fly down a street on the chance that you meet, and you meet -- not really by chance.”

Recall the moment when you realized your feelings were mutual. No words, no song, no kaleidoscope filled with glorious colors can match that feeling. Yes, and there was the excitement and the worry about meeting your partner’s friends. What if they said you weren’t good enough? Then you met your partner’s family with bone chilling fear, praying they wouldn’t vote you off the island, to use today’s idiom.  

Think back to the day you asked for her hand in marriage. Or, you waited by the window, hoping to see him coming up the walk with a tiny box in his hand that simply had to be the ring, the thing that would seal the deal. You looked deeply into each other's eyes that day, nervously searching for signs of doubt, yet confident that your heart, filled with love, would overcome all. This is the one. There will never be someone better.  

Ah, the wedding, the sacred ceremony, the promises…to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part. And the celebration afterwards; Oh what a night! Champagne toasts, an embroidered lace wedding cake, and rice for good luck and abundance. Now, when was the last time you looked at the photos you so patiently posed for, gowned and tuxedoed? Never mind you aren’t so young anymore. Never mind you misplaced them; never mind you feel silly. It’s Valentine’s Day. Do it.

In the early years, celebrating Valentine’s Day was fun. You enjoyed each other’s company, you were building something together; starting a family (how many families got started on February 14^th, I wonder?) Dinner dates, boxes of candy, flowers, a snazzy necktie and always, an extravagant card to remind you of the magic you felt whenever your partner came into view.

Time passes and the years fly by. Kids grow up; you cherish victories together and yes, bear defeats, unimaginable when you were young. You worry about your health, money, careers that end before they’re over. Sadly, some of us turn inward rather than facing the oncoming storms together. Worse, you forget there are joys yet to unfold.

What kept you together all these years? Look closely and it isn’t hard to see the roots, deep, strong, entwined and seemingly unbreakable. Valentine’s Day may not cure what ails us. But, if you woke up this morning with someone who rocked your world once upon a time, maybe it’s time to wake up and make the most of every moment you have together. Maybe you haven’t exchanged a Valentine’s Day card for years, having convinced yourself, and each other, that it isn’t worth the time or expense. That it’s nothing more than a marketers hustle. Did you think that way on your first Valentine’s Day together?

Whether you’re in May or the September of your years, realize that time has a way of slipping by. As the song says, when the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame, you haven’t got time for the waiting game. It’s Valentine’s Day. Celebrate the day together. Say I love you to the one who matters most. And if per chance you’re alone this year, revel in a sweet memory. While you’re at it though, do keep your eyes open for the chance that you meet…a new valentine of your own.

 

  

 

65 Special

When I worked for Independence Blue Cross in Philadelphia we offered a supplemental insurance program for people covered by Medicare called “65 Special.” If that sounds like marketing right out of the 1980s playbook, you are correct except for the fact that they still offer something called Personal Choice 65 Pro.  Some things really don’t change.

            I was 32 when I went to work for Independence Blue Cross. I’m certain I never gave a thought to being 65 or whether being 65 deserved to be called special. However, as will happen to those of us who keep breathing, I will turn 65 this month.

Since I live in Tennessee now, I’m not eligible for “65 Special” supplemental coverage, but don’t feel sorry for me. Apparently, I’m more than special, I’m a member of  an exclusive club! My Blue Cross medi-gap coverage is called…Blue-Elite. Apparently the marketing staff at the Chattanooga based Blue Cross plan is more hip than the marketing team at my alma mater plan.

When I was 25 years old and had a full 40 years to go before I reached this milestone, I recall seeing a personnel file (that’s what they called them then) with my name that said, retirement date January 2013. It seemed so far off that I couldn’t even imagine such a thing happening. Remember this was 1973. The 20^th century was still in the third Quarter so to speak. It still had another 27 years to go. 

We designate certain birthdays as special. Most of them end in zero, a strange custom, no? Those of us who’ve appreciated six decades of living, have endured the over the hill cards at 40, the black balloons when we turned 50 and a Tee shirt or ball cap that says “Older than dirt” or worse, when we hit 60.

The exceptions to the zero birthday tyranny: the year we are eligible for a driver’s license and the magical 21, when we can legally order a drink and be served. For the record, on my 21^st birthday my father took me to a local restaurant where we ate dinner at the bar. My first legal drink? A grasshopper. Don’t ask, still haven’t lived that one down.

Should turning 65 also be a special birthday? One way it’s special: You’re eligible for Medicare. Obviously that won’t generate the kind of excitement that being eligible to drive brings. Still, of the 3,637,000 baby boomers born in the USA in 1948, about two million of us are still here to celebrate. Think of your Medicare card as a special birthday greeting from Uncle Sam. I’ll bet some of you 1948ers remember the last greeting you got from him; your draft notice.

Another good thing about being 65 is the forgiveness factor. It goes up by a factor of ten. When you forget to pick up milk at the store, can’t find the word you’re searching vainly for or can’t recall the name of the actor who played Jake Gittes in the film, Chinatown, you say to no one in particular, “I’m getting old.” You’ve been saying that for at least five years. The difference is people don’t jump to disagree with you anymore. They just smile. Permit me to make a suggestion. Never utter those words again! No good can come from telling yourself that. Listen: The Mayan calendar thing was bogus but the power of suggestion is very real.

If you’re turning 65 this year by all means revel in the specialness of the moment. While a few may argue that 65 is the starting point of old age, they are wrong. A Pew Research Center survey conducted a few years ago found that most people now believe old age starts at 68.  If Congress ever gets around to modifying Social Security and Medicare, maybe 68 will become a special birthday. Would BlueCross BlueShield come out with a 68 Special?