Cogitation on the Past in the Present

 

cogitation - noun - action of thinking deeply about something; contemplation (Google).

Because holidays like yesterday's Thanksgiving are traditional and repeat themselves year after year because we choose to celebrate them annually, they often propel us backwards into cogitation regarding the past. William Faulkner, of whom I am not a fan but whom I respect as a writer, included the line, "The past is never dead. It's not even past" a reference to how history haunts Southerners in his novel Requiem for a Nun. This may be true even today, but let's face it. It doesn't matter what geographical location you inhabit, if you reside in the present and have a memory, most likely if some stimulus incites you into cogitation, you will fall back into the past. 

This happened to me more than once yesterday for one reason or another. I have a framed 5 X 7 photograph taken on Thanksgiving, 1998 of a scene at the dinner table encompassing myriad emotions displayed in the faces of the relatives captured. Two of the relations are now deceased, one divorced from the family, and three, children, who are now adults. I am the only person pictured who has managed to pass the test of time relatively unscathed. Immediately, though, the photo grabbed my attention and forced me into cogitation, a portion of which I voiced at dinner. The moment in the past became a topic of discussion in the present.  As a conversation starter, I asked, "What do you think Mum is thinking here?" My daughter's and my suppositions enabled us to reach an understanding of the past in the present sans haunting us negatively. 

Unlike some, I don't feel as though I dwell in the past, but it can be a useful tool to aid comprehension in the present. For example, before finding each other again, my man in L.A. (I have mentioned him before in this ongoing blog) and I were once separated by forty years. After we reconnected, we were able to step back to remember the way we were in our twenties and compare it to the way we are now. The differences relate to maturity, of course, but there is a degree of sameness. His mother, to whom he was particularly close, passed away at sixty from cancer. Consequently, he doesn't speak of her too much anymore. However, when I was out visiting him in September, I noticed that the rapport he has with his daughter, who is about the same age he was when I first met him, is the mirror image of that which he once shared with his mother. And to tell you the truth, even though he is a psycho-therapist by profession, I don't think he is cognizant of it because the past has a way of taking control in the present without notice. 

The past is nothing of which you should be afraid. It allows you to lose yourself in cogitation so that you can perhaps learn something positive about the present. Even if your past is ugly for whatever reason, the memory of it exists so that you can become stronger in the now. Anyway, most likely, you have grown enough already to handle a trip back to another time every once in a while. At least, you can use it to stimulate fascinating conversations. :)

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Golf as Life

 

genteel - adjective - polite, refined, respectable, often in an affected or ostentatious way (Google).

My father and his people were golfers, genteel in the positive sense: polite, refined, respectable: the epitome of white privilege, yet hardworking, focused, and consequently, successful. As a child, I didn't understand the purpose of the game. I surveyed the vastness of the course at Baltusrol, the family's destination on Sundays post church, and couldn't fathom how adults could spend hours using numbered clubs to hit the same little white ball up, out and about, often skimming the antlers of stags, branches of trees or worse, hooking the ball only to wind up in the woods, physically searching for it. At seventeen, golf was a portion of physical education at my high school, so I had to learn how to play it in order to graduate. I did, and ever since, I have been challenging myself to play the bittersweet sport, finishing rounds with feelings that are often more bitter than sweet. 

Without a doubt, golf is the most difficult sport to play. Any professional athlete will confess to that. It is also the best game to use as a metaphor for life. And if you have been reading this blog long enough, you know that I like to indulge in sports metaphors. Like life, golf is demanding, requiring focus and perspective. As the player, you have to step back and take in the vastness of the field before you decide how to proceed, what club to use. Just the right tool in life can often make or break you.  In golf as well as life, accurate perspective is essential. If you don't contemplate your course beforehand, you may wind up in the woods. Being myopic will get you nowhere. Your grip on the club could be compared to your attitude and mental acuity, necessary to remain safely on the fairway or on the correct, ethical route in life.  Finally, a genteel posture and unselfish aim will enable you to navigate the ever changing course. Life's virtue, patience and strict adherence to the rules of the course will keep you from hitting up on others in front of you and causing damage (possibly being accused of manslaughter–you don't want to hit or get hit with a ball). Although you have free will, there are certain mandates in golf and in life that you need to consider and follow to get you through unscathed.

Now I don't believe that people play golf intentionally because they view it as comparable to life, but I do believe that people like it because it is a game as unpredictable as life. You never know how your round will go as ultimately you are competing against yourself, just like in life. But if you take lessons, practice, go out on that driving range in order to prepare (meaning get yourself a solid education and internship), you have a better chance at success albeit there are no guarantees. In golf and in life, you will have good shots that amount to days and bad shots that amount to days; ergo, a genteel you will need to accept both since life is a balance. Yet despite the inevitable frustrations, you stay in the game and play for the highs, the unforgettable drives, chips, and putts that send the ball into the hole as a birdie or eagle. The moments of triumph on and off the course are what we live for and what we appreciate and cherish when we reach the end of the game we call life.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you Americans out there! 

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The Marmoreal Fountain of Youth

  

marmoreal - adjective - made of or likened to marble (Google).

Ever since the 16th century explorer Juan Ponce deLeon embarked from his homeland of Spain to find the Fountain of Youth, most of us have been searching for it as well. The irony is that deLeon thought it would be in Florida, a contemporary Mecca where thousands around seventy years old flock to retire each year. In fact, so many reside there now that it has been labeled, "God's waiting room," a far cry from the "Spring of Perpetual Pimples" or Peter Pan's Never, Neverland. Like deLeon, the septuagenarians arrive in Miami and other Floridian hot spots in pursuit of eternal adolescence, and may act like teenagers, but they are never quite able to recapture the whole kit and caboodle as they can only go so far when it comes to hiding their actual ages. 

Americans spend a lot of money annually trying to deceive people out of guessing how old they are. Some celebrities, like Cher and Jane Fonda, have made an art form out of cosmetic surgery but wind up looking like marmoreal statues instead. In fact, they appear less real than their wax counterparts at Madame Tussands, which is unfortunate. I, for one, can pull off being twenty years younger than my actual number, much to the frustration of my musical partner, ML. She is five years my senior, but when we entertain as a duo in assisted living facilities (where people seem to be proud to reveal their advanced ages), the residents seem to think that I am her daughter, which is maddening to ML. To prevent her from doing injury to the innocent, I usually make light of the situation, point to ML and say to the conjecturer, "No, I'm actually her mother." In consequence, we all laugh and continue with the program. Yet still, ML winds up feeling insulted. And I can't blame her.

If you Ponce deLeons out there want to look and feel younger than you are, it isn't as difficult or expensive as you think. Sure, genetics, something you can't control, plays a prominent role in how you age; however, there are a few things you can do to keep people wondering just how old you are. For one, lose weight. Try to regain your youthful figure by eating healthy foods and working out. Yes, it is hard, but doable. Another would be to keep the grays away by covering them and then grow out your hair. From a distance, no one will think you are over thirty. Yet another is to shop for clothes at Forever 21. If you lose those pounds, you'll be surprised at how good you look in the latest fashions. Of course, stay away from too much sun. If you need to be out in it, wear sunscreen. Applying some moisturizer with retinol and collagen each night won't hurt either. Last but not least, concentrate on rejuvenating your ancient thoughts. Think young by embracing a sense of humor. You will wind up smiling a lot (Those vertical lines around your mouth will disappear.) and laughing heartily and frequently so that you don't resemble anything marmoreal. 

Realistically, all fountains that are constructed tend to be marmoreal, even the young ones, so it's best not to head in the direction of the Fountain of Youth. Concentrate on the inside of yourself, and the outside will take care of itself. After all, "you are as young as you feel." 

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Munificence and Turkeys

 

munificence - noun - quality or action of being lavishly generous; great generosity (Google).

It may be rare, but on occasion, particularly around the holidays, generosity can be seen in abundance. Yet if you are not in the right place at the right time, it is possible to miss it. Fortunately, today I positioned myself serendipitously in just the correct spot so that I could witness first hand what many cynics might consider to be up there with a lunar eclipse in terms of frequency: munificence.

In remembrance of Thanksgiving, a holiday that reeks of atavistic magnanimity (Think: Native Americans feeding Pilgrims and vice versa), I had signed up to volunteer for the Community Food Bank of New Jersey's annual turkey drive to be held at a local elementary school. This morning, I showed up on time, 8:45, and was told that an anonymous someone had assigned me the leadership role of captain, a bit disconcerting as I had not been informed previously and had no knowledge of the job's responsibilities. So I did what I normally do under similar circumstances: I proceeded to "wing it." You know, go with the flow of things. 

The flow of things surprised me so pleasantly that after my shift was over and done with, I was floating on Cloud 9 for the remainder of the day. From 9 until 11:30 a.m., people stopped by with car loads of groceries-non perishables and frozen turkeys—that we volunteers carried to a parked truck poised to take the donations to a warehouse where they would be distributed. In two hours time, we had collected 35 turkeys and filled numerous bins with boxed and canned food for hungry families throughout the State. The other locations throughout the county also seemed to be doing as well or better. Because I did leave after three hours, I do not know how many additional turkeys and other items were dropped off, but I would predict the same amount or better. 

No doubt, our turkey drive was one of many that happened or is happening or will be happening throughout the United States this week. Strangers are stepping up to satiate the stomachs of strangers. Magnificent munificence is becoming a reality. What a concept. Wouldn't it be nice if we could all embrace and practice it daily? 

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Love vs. Sex after Sixty

 

prurient - adjective - having or encouraging an excessive interest in sexual matters (Google).

Between what I heard on a New York radio show this morning and what my hairdresser proposed to me yesterday whilst running his fingers through my hair, I am beginning to think that men approaching or past sixty are prurient scientists or gymnasts as opposed to bonafide romantics who feel that love should figure into the sex somewhere. Somewhere along the lines, if I start sounding like Carrie Bradshaw, please forgive me, but I've got to model myself after someone :). 

Let's start with the broadcast. Labeled as "Strange News," the segment involved notorious bad boy, divorced Don Johnson, 70, whom Andy Cohen recently interviewed on Bravo. Apparently, Don is still the Don Juan, satiating numerous female lovers, whom he referred to as his "satisfied customers" in and out of the sack. He has sex down to "a science," or so he confessed. Very interesting. So observation, experimentation, and hypothesis ostensibly are part of the plan in the feathers? Hmm, I suppose that makes sense.

My fifty-nine-year-old, divorced hairdresser, on the other hand, is not quite as scientific as Johnson is since he views sex as more of a sport. Although he is dating someone steadily at the moment, he generously offered me a role in his backroom calisthenics, which I declined for reasons of ethics and morality. I am involved with someone whom I genuinely love and have no desire to cheat on him. My stylist couldn't seem to fathom why ethics, morality, or love should have anything to do with his partnered exercise routine, imploring, "Why can't we just have fun?" Ah, let me think. I guess it has something to do with doing the right thing, Antonio?  

I know there are women sixty and over out there who do see themselves as prurient scientists or athletes, but I'm not one of them. When I make love to a man, I like to be honest and actually be in love with him. And like Carrie Bradshaw, I'd like the feeling to be mutual. We romantics tend to want the real thing when it comes to love, the whole package, including the mind-blowing sex because what makes it so good is not the "science" or the sport, but genuine emotions. 

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Maxims from God?

 

maxim - noun - a brief statement expressing a general truth or rule of conduct (Google).

Sometimes I think that God might very well speak to us by way of placards deposited within our sight lines. Now, I am not referring to billboards that are currently electronically manufactured to display multiple advertisements in a series, one folding into another and another and another within a given time frame. I actually noticed one like this on Park Avenue in New York City a couple of weeks ago, and it stunned me to think that the boulevard of refinement that I once knew well as a resident is actually transitioning into another Times Square. But I digress. What I am suggesting is that every once in awhile, we walk into some store or office or home, and a maxim will either be engraved in a paperweight of stone, silver, wood or framed as a print or stenciled on a wall, expressions of veracity or just behaviors that we should have learned in kindergarten. Some messages, the ones that are obviously not emanating from God or just Goodness incarnate, can be snarky. For instance, my daughter, who isn't all that keen on some of our relations, used to own a wooden paddle with something like "Friends are welcome; relatives can book a room elsewhere" painted on it. Although I wouldn't classify it as a maxim per se; there is a degree of candor inherent in the directive that we've all embraced but never actually spoken outrightly at one time or another :). 

Today, while I was waiting to get my hair done at my favorite local salon, I caught sight of an authentic maxim, one that theoretically could have come directly from the lips of angels since the actual speaker was not identified: "Live every minute with love in your heart, grace in your step, and gratitude in your soul." A reminder like this is timeless, always relevant. It makes me wonder, and maybe you, too, why so many people do choose to ignore perfectly good advice like this. Sometimes it is smart to read the writing on the wall, literally, and take ownership of it. I would like to think that most really do want to be the best versions of themselves but fall short as they are "only human." It is as though we convince ourselves that perfection is impossible due to circumstances beyond our control. Is this the right thing to do? Maybe. Maybe not.

I shall leave you with some food for thought: If the technologically advanced signboards on Park Avenue and Times Square as well as along the Pennsylvania Turnpike and elsewhere were to feature maxims like the one my hairdresser chose to make into somewhat of a marquee, would we be more united in ideology as a country? 

Hmm.

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Nomenclature Nowadays

 

nomenclature - noun - a term or terms applied to someone or something (Google).

I am convinced that we are living in an age of rapid alternations to language. New neologisms and nomenclature abound, making it nearly impossible to keep up, particularly if you are over sixty. 

I first noticed a few changes in the early 2000s when I was teaching language arts, a.k.a. English, in a middle school here in Jersey. Seemingly, the terminology migrated from comprehensible to abstruse overnight, particularly in the field of special education. Being that I had a number of "classified" students in my classroom, I had to be especially aware of their individual needs by law. Ostensibly, there were so many labels available as there were so many distinctive cases that numbers and initials started to spring up left and right like weeds on a baseball diamond. One that I pulled up time and time again was the "504," meaning that the student did not belong under the nomenclature of Special Ed but owned a few idiosyncrasies (i.e. learning disabilities) to warrant accommodations, such as more time in testing situations. Another esoteric emblem was the IEP, a lengthy document including the special ed student's learning maladies and recommendations for modifications. If you aren't in education, even by now, you are probably exhausted. Exactly. 

The other night, one of my friends, who just happens to be a reality TV personality, and his wife, a very close friend of mine from high school and college, joined my daughter and me for dinner. Two of the sundry topics of conversation were neologisms and nomenclature. My daughter introduced "cuffed" as a current synonym for what my generation used to call "going steady," or just being polymorphously perverse with one person of either sex for a period of a few months (serial monogamy). We three seniors got a kick out of "cuffed," probably because it made us think of another, older tag, S&M. But let's not go there and say we did. 

For whatever reason, because of the recent yet constant evolution of the English language, linguistics will always be a dynamic field of study. Fortunately, if you associate with young people, you won't have to enroll in a college class or do much internet research into the recent adjustments and additions to the vocabulary because you'll be in the presence of experts who are more than happy to share what they know. Personally, though, I'd rather speak softly and carry a big stick than have to use some of the nomenclature nowadays :).

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