A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY -IF YOU'RE OLD ENOUGH

Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan, or the dawn of Camelot,
There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me,
For Ike was in the White House in the land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.

We longed for love and romance, and waited for our prince,
Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one's seen him since.
We danced to "Little Darlin," and sang to "Stagger Lee"
and cried for Buddy Holly in the Land That Made Me Me.

Only girls wore earrings then, and 3 was one too many,
And only boys wore flat-top cuts except for Jean McKinney.
And only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see
A boy named George with lipstick, in the Land That Made Me Me.

We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice.
And when they made a movie, they never made it twice,
We didn't have Star Trek five, or Psycho Two and Three,
Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty in the Land That Made Me Me.

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp.
We had a Mister Wizard, but not a Mr. T,
And Oprah couldn't talk yet in the Land That Make Me Me.

We had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe.
For our youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever in the Land That Made Me Me.

We never had seen a band that was Grateful to be Dead,
And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson, and Zeppelins were not Led.
And Beatles lived in gardens then, and Monkees lives in trees,
Madonna was Mary in the Land That Made Me Me.

We never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars,
and babies might be bottle-fed, but they were not grown in jars.
And pumping iron got wrinkles out, and "gay" meant fancy-free,
And dorms were never co-ed in the Land That Made Me Me.

We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.
And hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea,
And rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made Me Me.

Buick's came with portholes, and side shows came with freaks,
And bathing suits were big enough to cover both your cheeks
And Coke came just in bottles, and skirts below the knee,
And Castro came to power in the Land that Made Me Me.

We had no Crest with Fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,
We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea,
Or Prime time ads for those dysfunctions in the land that Made Me Me.

There were no Golden Arches, or Perrier to chill,
And fish were not called Wanda, and cats were not called Bill.
And middle-are was 35 and old was forty-tree,
And ancient were our parents in the Land that Made Me Me.

But all things have a season, or so we've heard they say,
and now instead of Maybelline, we swear by Retin-A,
They send us invitations to join AARP,
We've come a long way baby, from the Land That Made Me Me.

So now we face a brave new world in slightly larger jeans,
And wonder why they're using smaller pint in magazines.
And we tell our children's children of the way is used to be,
Long ago and far away in the Land that Made Me Me.

LYNN HALL SAID...

"We did not change as we grew older, we just became more clearly ourselves."

MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR!

Thanksgiving is a special time of year. It is an opportunity to express in very tangible ways our appreciation and thankfulness for our many blessings. True, we shouldn't need a special day to say "thank you." We should visually and verbally express appreciation every day but Thanksgiving Dy is an opportunity to pause, reflect and demonstrate how thankful we are for sundry and special favors and opportunities. We seniors in particular have much to be thankful for if we are really honest with ourselves.

Saying thanks not only brightens someone else's world, it brightens yours. If you're feeling left out, unloved, unappreciated, forgotten, try reaching out to others. It may just be the medicine you need.

Over 20 years ago, I was walking through downtown Ogden, Utah, my hometown. Memories of my boyhood flooded back as I walked the familiar streets. Then I saw Ethyl Piper, and my mind flashed back to elementary school.

I was in the sixth grade at Lewis Elementary school, more interested in sports than schoolwork and I was not much interested in music class that Mrs. Piper taught. I'm afraid I was somewhat of a troublemaker in the class because I didn't like music and really had no interest. One day, Mrs. Piper stopped in the hallway after school and said, "Freddie, music is great fun. Why don't you come over to my house tonight after dinner and I'll show you." For the next several weeks, she tutored me by having me listen to great music and she got me to the point where I could almost carry a tune.. well, almost. Anyway, I learned to love music and at the callow age of 12, it seemed perfectly natural to me that a working wife and mother had nothing better to do after a hard day of teaching than to tutor me in music.

Then, that day, as I saw her, I realized what an uncommon sacrifice it had been. And, after all of those years, I told her so. "What you did was way beyond the call of duty", I said. "Thank you so much for enriching my life with the love of music." I was rewarded with a surprised smile and a sparkle in her eyes. She called me regularly after that day and we talked about music until she died at the age of 100.

Each human being is yearning for kind words of appreciation

In the novel,"I HEARD THE OWL CALL MY NAME", Margaret Cravens tells of a young minister, Mark Brian, who is sent by his bishop to a remote parish of Kwakiutl Indians in British Columbia. The Indians, he is told, do not have a word in their vocabulary for "thank you." But, Brian soon finds that these people have exceptional generosity. Instead of "SAYING" thanks, it is their custom to return very favor with a favor of their own, and every kindness with an equal or superior kindness. The don't SAY thanks. They DO their thanks.

I wonder if we didn't have a word in our vocabulary for "thank you" would we do a better job of communicating our gratitude? Would we be more responsive, more sensitive, more caring?

IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

There is a wooden plaque sitting on the mantle of my fireplace in the family room. It is a large plaque, maybe three feet by one foot. It says in gold letters, "It's a Wonderful Life." I'm not sure how long it has been displayed but I know it is quite a few years.

This morning, I really looked at it a new, different light. A smile crossed my face and I said out loud, "Right on! IT IS INDEED A WONDERFUL LIFE."

Some might ask how I can feel this way with the myriad health problems I have endured in recent years. But, I am alive and many thought I wouldn't be. As the generic time clock moves inextricably onwards, my journey through life to death - that bridge without ramps - nears its end. We moderns have problems facing old age. Before modern medicine, if we hadn't died young of disease we just aged into oblivion without much help from the outside. We are led by natures hand down a gentle and virtually imperceptible slope, bit by bit - she rolls us into this wretched state and makes us familiar with it. We find no shock when youth dies in us ... in essence and in truth, that is a harder death than the complete death of a languishing life or the death of old age.

Languishing need not be the aged's lot.I choose not to "languish." Through all of the incursions to my health, I have recuperated and am living a meaningful live, enjoying reading, gardening, my electronic toys, (iPad, iPhone, Kindle, iPod.) My grandchildren think it's "cool" that Poppy has the fastest thumbs in the west for texting and that I have more friends on Facebook and more followers on Twitter than they do.)

Yes. I know very well that I have lived a long time. However, whatever time I have left, I will live it to its fullest. I want to leave exhausted. IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE.