Pining for gold

Sure enough. Fall is here. It officially started just a week or so ago. But the summer's drought meant that the foliage got the message early, and the colors in the mountains were at their peak a week or two ahead of schedule. Well, ahead of the human schedule. Right on time for the trees, I guess. 

I set aside a day to go leaf peeping (as they call it in New England) with a friend. The day was on-and-off rainy, and Kenosha Pass, our designated leaf walk venue, was foggy—and also remarkably short on leaves. It's usually awash in aspen gold at the end of September, but this year, grey was the color of choice. In fact, as we drove up there, I noticed that lots of trees seem to have turned brown before they reached gold, probably because of the drought. So instead of hiking on Kenosha, we opted for a drive down a side road out of South Park (the real South Park, not the comedy version) and treated ourselves to some lovely fall sights. The colors were pretty muted, since there was virtually no sun (instead, we had occasional sprinkles), but it was wonderful anyhow.

If you've never spent fall in Colorado, I should probably tell you: we don't have the brilliant reds and oranges of the maples and oaks of New England, or even much of the scarlet scrub oak of Utah. Our color comes mostly from native aspen, with some cottonwood and lots of willow along the creeks, all turning various shades of gold. I've seen New England and Utah in the fall, and both are gorgeous. And I know that for some folks, this pales (literally) in comparison. But I love it. 

So here's a glimpse of the day: pictures from along meandering Tarryall Creek just outside South Park.

                              
    

       

   
  

Pretty nice colors for a rainy day in the mountains, eh?

For those who didn't have a chance to visit the high country before the recent snow (which probably took out most of the remaining leaves), there's plenty of color down here in the lowlands too. A few shots from the bike path, over neighbors' fences, and by the road side as I've gone about my daily routines:

       
      

         

                       
      
        

                   

Ah, golden fall! 

And now, ready or not, I guess the next installment will have a lot of white ... 

Retirement ... encore (Part 2)

A few days ago, I posted a blog about an emerging view of aging that suggests a new “encore” stage between midlife and old age. The idea is that instead of retiring (in the old sense of taking it easy), a lot of folks are filling their post-midlife years with very active engagement with the world—sometimes including starting new careers. There’s a lot to be said for this new look at aging, and that was the subject of that earlier blog. But I promised to come back with some concerns I have about this model. This, you will no doubt be happy to know, is that promised commentary.

So here are my two concerns:

First, I always worry about any model that talks about “stages” of development. Stages always imply a sort of lock-step approach, where you have to take one step before you can start the next. They’re always accompanied by a nodding acknowledgement that “this doesn’t fit everyone.” But for the most part, the discussion of stages then goes on to assume that the model does, in fact, apply to everyone … except maybe folks who are somehow failing at their developmental task.

So, I’m troubled by the sort of “should” nature of this portrayal of aging as happening in stages. What does this perspective say, for instance, of someone who doesn’t want to add on a stage or start a new career? What about people who are perfectly content building their later life around recreation, hobbies, family, personal pursuits? Are those folks somehow failing to “fulfill their full potential”? Are they abandoning the promise of their generation by making these choices? And then what of the person who doesn’t get an “encore”? The person who, for whatever reason, chooses to (or must) continue in the “old” job/career until they retire once and for all? And what about someone who thought they had a chance for an “encore” until the bottom fell out of the economy? How do we understand their choices within this model?

I think the idea of staying engaged in the world—through a career or other means—is grand … for those folks for whom it fits. But I resist any implication that there’s a “right” way to grow, whether it’s growing up or growing old.

My second concern is that this model makes huge assumptions about the choices that are available to people. Now, this model applies to a lot of retired folks I know. Some have started new careers, lots are very engaged in community activities. But my circle of friends is a fairly homogeneous group. Like the “encore” folks discussed in these writings, most of us have a wealth of privilege—financial privilege, white privilege, educational privilege, geographic privilege—that allows us to live as we do. The fact that we can even entertain an “encore” option points to our privilege. 

The question for poor folks is not whether to frame retirement as a recreational escape or as an opportunity for an “encore” career. The question is whether they can stop working at all. For people without economic resources, the end of working life comes not by comfortable retirement of any sort, but by default, by necessity, due to poor health, economic downturns, outsourcing. (Coincidentally, as I was thinking about this, I also came across a recent study showing that both forced “retirement” and ill health have significant negative effects on post-retirement well-being. What a surprise!)

I have similar thoughts about educational privilege. It’s far easier to consider entering a new career when you have a broad education that allows for flexibility than when you have a limited set of skills that fit a limited range of occupations. It’s easy to say “go back to school” when it’s back to school instead of just to school because you never got much schooling as a child.

To see what I mean, check out the list of possible “encore” careers given in the article I talked about before. The vast majority of them require significant educational background: nurse, nurse instructor, social worker, teacher, child-care worker, yoga instructor, non-profit social media manager, grant writer, pastoral counselor, etc. These may be encore careers for someone with considerable prior education. But they are almost certainly out of reach for someone who previously worked as a clerk, a welder, a nurse’s aide, a bus driver, a domestic worker. Other options listed not only presume that the retiree is well established but that a lot of other (privileged) folks are interested in the retiree’s particular “passion”—yoga instructor, for instance. The few positions listed here that might be within reach of folks who are poorer, less able, and less educated would hardly be considered “encore careers” that promise passion and purpose accompanied by a far-less-important paycheck. They’re more like continuing hard work for low pay: home health aide, solar installation trainer, weatherization installer.

So, this whole idea of an encore career offers us an opportunity to reconsider our privilege. Now, privilege isn’t inherently a bad thing. As Suzanne Pharr has said, you just need to spend your privilege well. This provides  the ideal lens through which we might envision that encore career—as a way to spend our privilege well. From my own particular personal peculiar perspective, that would not include yoga instructor, but it would definitely include teacher’s aide, Peace Corps volunteer, AmeriCorps volunteer, home-health aide. These are jobs, not careers, and they don’t pay well. But for those of us who have the resources to make a choice based not on monetary need but on the desire for passion and purpose, jobs like these would mean privilege well spent. There are other options, too, careers that spend privilege well but that require more education than many retired people can (or will choose to) undertake—social worker, teacher, non-profit grant writer, and others. Or, we have the privilege to simply retire, to rest. To stop and smell the roses. But let’s not imagine that this privilege is available to everyone simply because a new life stage has been designated.

This whole line of thought seems like such a wet blanket. It’s far more fun to tout the joys of aging and the choices we have (as I have done before here). So this blog seems out of character for me. But I want to honor the lives of people who don’t come to aging with anything like the privilege I enjoy. The vision of an encore performance is grand. For those who can do it, it’s a fine testament to the amazing ability of humans to, as old Timex watch ads used to say, “take a licking and keep on ticking.” But whether we have this option depends so much on the the privilege we arrive with. 

Really. 

Ruth Bader Ginsburg: (sort of) up close and (surprisingly) personal

There she sat, tiny, even frail looking, pale, her graying hair pulled back in a tight bun. And wearing lace gloves? (It turns out she wears them often.) I watched her walk in, stooped, moving slowly. I half expected a small voice to match her stature. But when Ruth Bader Ginsburg speaks, you know instantly that you are in the presence of a powerful personality and a brilliant mind. And there I was, in the first row behind the reserved seats (thanks to the gift of retirement: time to wait in the sun to ensure a place near the front of the line) in a room filled to overflowing.

The view from the cheap seats

For those who missed this great moment … Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Associate Justice of the US Supreme Court, was at CU yesterday. She had requested a “fireside chat” instead of doing a lecture, and her interviewer (the law school dean) was skilled enough to pretty much stay out of her way. Just being in her presence felt like touching history. This is a woman to whom we owe uncounted steps in the movement for equal rights—especially for women, but also for others. The second woman on the US Supreme Court, and now the grandmamma of a trio of women on the Court. Asked how many would be “enough,” she smiled, “nine.”

Ruth Bader Ginsburg ... small only in stature

There’s so much to say … you’ll have to trust me that this is the edited version, long though it may be.

Listening to Ginsburg was both educational and inspirational. She told great stories, beginning with tales of her own career and the place of women in the law. When she first entered Harvard Law School in the 1950s, her class of 500 included nine women. Of course they were under great pressure. They all felt as if their performance reflected not only on their own abilities, but on all women. (Later, in the 1970s when there were more women in law, a faculty friend told her that he had liked those “good old days” better. If the class dragged, he could always call on a woman, certain that she would be extremely well prepared … she had to be! Now, he said, there are so many women, they are as likely to be ill prepared as the men!) At the time when she graduated, many firms explicitly refused to hire women. Ginsburg got her first job only because her mentor threatened to never send another student if the prospective employer failed to give her a chance.

Asked about women on the Supreme Court, Ginsburg talked about a stunningly short trajectory. Sandra Day O’Conner was appointed in 1982 as the first woman on the Court (over 200 years after the nation’s founding). She was the lone woman for over a decade until Ginsburg joined her in 1993. Knowing that folks would be confused because the Court had only ever had one woman, friends gave them both t-shirts. Ginsburg’s said “I'm Ruth, not Sandra” and O’Conner’s said, “I'm Sandra, not Ruth.” Ginsburg was still being addressed by some attorneys as “Justice O’Conner” many years later.

When O’Conner retired, Ginsburg was the sole woman. Asked how this felt, she said “lonely.” But more important, she said, was that it gave the wrong message: one small woman and eight large men. It made her seem out of place, like she didn’t belong. That has improved greatly with the recent addition of two more women. Because of her seniority, Ginsburg sits near the center of the bench, and the two junior women sit at either end. Now, she said, it looks like women belong there. Now the message says, of course the Court includes both women and men.

The dean’s questions elicited some great personal stories, too. (I confess to loving these stories … but I also found myself wondering whether he would ask a male Supreme Court justice about his wife and kids.) Ginsburg talked about her very supportive husband, Marty, who did all the cooking because, she said, she’s a terrible cook. “And owing to a lack of interest,” Marty is reported to have commented, “she is unlikely to improve.” So he became a stellar chef—in fact, the Court’s bookstore carries a volume of his recipes. And then there was the time when she insisted that her son’s school alternate which parent they called when her “lively” child acted up. As instructed, they called Marty one day, and he dutifully reported to the principal’s office. When he asked what the boy had done, they told him, “He stole the elevator.” “Well,” replied Marty, “how far could he take it?” Disarmed by his sense of humor (or perhaps hesitant to risk another visit by dad), they never called again.

Talking law (this was, after all, a law school event), she recounted a litany of cases in great detail, rattling off names of parties and precedents as if any normal human could follow her (probably some folks could; personally, I just sat in awe). She especially focused on cases related to women’s rights and gender parity, a specialty of hers. (BTW, she began to use the word “gender” instead of “sex” some time ago, when a secretary pointed out that “sex” seemed to jump off the page when it came up so often. “Gender,” this secretary suggested, would be less likely to get folks all riled up.)

As she talked about the evolution of civil rights law, Ginsburg mentioned a striking fact that I don’t believe I ever knew: Nowhere in the US Constitution or the Bill of Rights—i.e., the “founding documents”—is the word “equal” ever mentioned. “Why?” Ginsburg asked rhetorically. “Because of the odious practice of slavery.” Only after the Civil War ended was it possible to amend the constitution to guarantee equal protection under the law for all people (Amendment 14). And thus began the long struggle for equality, to which Ginsburg has made enormous contributions. During discussion of this topic, a high school student asked about the future of LGBT rights. Smiling, she said she couldn’t answer because the challenge to the federal Defense of Marriage Act is likely to come before the Court this coming session. Her casual announcement that the court is likely to hear this case this year was newsworthy to many folks—enough so that it was reported by Slate (who got it from AP).

Ginsburg’s reputation on the Court is well known: she is the most predictable member of the “liberal” segment of the Court—not surprising, given her long association with the ACLU and with human rights causes. But she resists that sort of easy classification. The US Supreme Court, she asserts, is the most remarkable institution on earth. For it to work, it is absolutely essential that its members be thoughtful in their deliberations, respectful of one another, and always collegial, despite their differences in opinion and judgment. Otherwise, this incredible institution would crumble.

As evidence of her allegiance to this position, she sprinkles her comments with casual references to other members of the court, folks you’d think she’s keep at a distance. Word is that she regularly plays cards with Justice Scalia, who is to the “conservative” side of the court what Ginsburg is to the “liberal” side. And she is quick to point out that despite appearances to the contrary, the justices actually agree on most cases. We, the everyday public, only see the high-profile cases, she says, those that are politically loaded. But behind all those cases are many, many more where the Court is called upon to issue opinions in less contentious domains. On these, they are often in agreement. Ginsburg’s illustration: The two people which whom she most often disagrees are Justice Scalia and Justice Thomas (no surprise there!). In the session that ended this past spring, she agreed with each of them more than 60% of the time.

Probably my favorite comments came toward the end (I know what you’re thinking: you mean there’s more?), as Ginsburg shared some thoughts about truly weighty matters. A question from the audience invited her to comment on what she sees as the most important legal challenge facing the nation in the near future. Her answer was quick and began with a simple statement, which I’ll paraphrase: Balancing personal freedom with the need for security. She paused (her manner of speaking includes a lot of pauses, typically followed by pithy elaboration on whatever she just said). Of course, she said, security is very important in a world now threatened by terrorism. But we must be careful, because personal freedoms can easily be sacrificed in the search for safety. Here, she cited a narrow miss in the contest between security and rights: the Court’s unanimous ruling that the laws of the US do apply in Guantanamo Bay. But, she reminded the assembled (and hopefully attentive) masses, other rights and liberties remain at risk. This is the greatest legal challenge in the near future of the nation!

The final question was predictable, coming as it did from the dean of the law school: What is the most important thing that the law school should be teaching its students today? I loved Ginsburg's answer: It’s not all about making a buck. When you become an attorney, you have a license and you have valuable skills. But you also have an obligation to use those to serve others. If your goal in practicing law is simply to make money, then you are not behaving in a professional manner.

ACLU, civil rights, women’s rights, human rights advocate to the core: The most important thing for attorneys to know is that they are obligated to use their skills to serve others. 

I love it.

Retirement ... encore!

During the past week, a friend gave me two readings, both proposing that the process of aging—in fact, the process of adult development in general—is undergoing major change. The time has come, they argue, to declare a new developmental stage for the years after midlife and before old age, after the primary career and before full retirement. Lots of folks promoting this vision are calling it the “encore” stage. 

I had really complicated reactions to this stuff. I both loved it and found it deeply problematic. So, following my partner’s sage advice, I’m going to talk about it in two steps: (1) the idea of an encore stage after midlife and before old age and (2) some of the problems this idea raises (at least in my mind). This time, I’ll talk about the idea. Stay tuned for (or tune out, your choice) the second installment.

OK, so it’s not a stretch to say that adulthood has changed, has gotten more complicated. Chalk it up to the baby boomers, who are now moving in huge numbers beyond “midlife” but still not embracing “old age.” Or blame it on the miracles of modern medicine that are keeping us alive and active far beyond the age at which our forebears died. Or attribute it to the growing number of people who are retiring earlier and facing decades of healthy life ahead. Or, more recently, to the number of folks who couldn’t retire (or who “unretired”) because of the recession. Or all of those and more …

Whatever the reason, many people now face a lot of years after the end of midlife, after their initial career or job trajectory winds down. Years when they are eager to do something more (and, often, something more useful) than just engaging in leisure activities, traveling, playing with grandkids—the old stalwart pastimes of retirement. Increasingly, folks are still interested in being engaged in some sort of productive activity and, often, in making a real contribution to their communities.

These particular writings talk about these trends in terms of this notion of the encore career. The first item is a book called The Big Shift: Navigating the New Stage beyond Midlife (Marc Freedman, Public Affairs Press, 2011). The book explains (in some detail) this major shift in how people are aging. Not only are we living longer, healthier lives, but many people are genuinely interested in working (in some capacity) far beyond their usual working life. To fully embrace this shift, the book argues, we need to throw out the old developmental models, where midlife is followed directly by old age (remember Erik Erikson’s “Eight Stages of Man [sic]”?). In their place, we need to re-write our collective life story, adding in this “encore” stage. Among my favorite proposals is that this encore might often be preceded by a “gap year,” a year off to get your bearings, try things out, consider how to spend the next stage—just as some young adults now take a year off between college and whatever follows. Beyond that delightful proposal, the book suggests a whole range of programmatic changes—on the personal, community, and governmental levels—that would facilitate the invention of this new stage.

The same perspective is raised, in a much briefer form, in the second reading, an AP article reprinted in the Denver Post called “For boomers, time for an encore.” This article makes much the same point (in fact, I checked to see if this article was a promotion for the book; it wasn’t). The article highlights a group (and website) called Encore.org, whose aim is to connect people with new careers that combine “purpose, passion, and a paycheck.” It also lists a bunch of ideas for specific career paths that “encore” stagers might pursue.

This whole idea appeals to me in a couple of ways. First, it’s always seemed odd to me how slowly models of human development change. They’re about change, for Pete’s sake! Yet we’re still citing Erik Erikson (1955) as we talk about development in 2012. And of all the stages that have changed, later adulthood may be the most fluid of all, if only because it has become so flipping long! Not only do we live longer, but retirement comes increasingly earlier—especially since, during this last generation, Medicare was introduced (1965) and Social Security benefits were increased (1972). So of course later adulthood has changed. And I find it invigorating to contemplate re-writing the rules for what “normal” or even “typical” adult development looks like in this new age.

I also like this stuff because it fits so well with my perennial emphasis on things wonderful about aging (see former blogs on “Celebrating Oldness” and “Bucket Lists and Donuts,” among others). This “encore” vision portrays retirement not as the end of our productive years but as a sort of re-set before entering a new and equally expansive stage of life. As anyone who’s listened to me rant about this knows, I worry that we're too quick to dwell on the losses of aging and too reluctant to embrace its gifts. Clearly, this new model offers inspiration—and even some direction—for folks who are searching for a meaningful and productive way to spend their post-midlife years. So the encore stage appeals to me big time in this way.

Also, and less comfortably, this feels like a personal challenge to me. Reading these pieces, I have to ask myself whether I’m taking full advantage of my encore time, or whether I’m treating it like an old-time retirement-on-the-front-porch stage, “old age” in those outdated developmental models. Am I slacking when I should be beating the bushes for a fulfilling new career? Am I resigning myself to the pasture when I still should be on the race track?

Or, alternatively, is this encore model just another source of pressure to “do it right”?

So suggests one psychologist, who’s concerned that this new view of aging that urges a new career with passion and purpose might just add another burden for post-retirement folks: stay active, stay engaged, stay healthy, stay connected to social networks. Oh yeah, and in your spare time, stay working. But stay out of the way of younger workers. This pressure, she argues, “denies the reality of aging.” She continues, “If there’s one thing great about getting older, [it’s that] certain things are liberating ... Do we really want to put more societal pressure on people as they grow older to look and act ever younger?”

To draw on that earlier “Bucket Lists and Donuts” blog, do we have to have a bucket list and an encore career to be “healthy” as we age? Or can we enjoy the occasional donut and call it good? I wish I had the answer. Instead, I just keep reading (and blogging), hoping to outlast the question.

Truth is, it sometimes seems like getting older is flat-out hard work, and the constant need to rethink how we’re doing it can be exhausting. So, let me shift to a different (but, I fear, no less heavy) topic. Next time I’ll talk about what I think is a major shortcoming of this new encore model. Other than that it requires serious reflection.

Just when we were having a good time …

Tinkering

To tinker [ting'kәr] (intransitive verb): to fiddle with something in an attempt to fix, mend, or improve it, especially in an experimental or unskilled manner; to repair or invent. 

Wednesday, rainy Wednesday. My official, no excuses day to do something out of my ordinary routine. My dedication of Wednesday to adventures began as a promise to myself to notice that it’s summer. But I think I’ll continue on with it no matter what the season. Anyhow, this Wednesday’s steady rain made the hike I had planned seem less than a great idea. So (as I did before when the hot weather and forest fire smoke interfered with my outing), I headed off for the Museum of Nature and Science in Denver. Earlier in the summer, the place was full of kids on summer camp excursions, all in their matching t-shirts. This time, the place was much less crowded, mostly old folks like me along with a significant number of  parents with their trailing tots—the preschool kids with nowhere to play but indoors. I wondered to myself why these parents would choose to struggle with managing a passel of small children while pushing baby strollers through the museum. Then my partner pointed out that a horde of kids trapped indoors on a rainy day likely looked even more daunting than a day chasing them around the museum. At least the museum is spacious and airy, and it really does provide a ton of hands-on activities for kids.

So, anyway, you’re probably wondering what this story has to do with tinkering. It all began earlier in the week when I set out to resolve a problem with my largely perfect, maintenance-free garden, created by the marvelous garden lady. During watering time, one of the sprinklers (“misters” mounted on “risers,” if I have the terminology right), sprays a serious torrent against a garden-level window that provides sunlight  and weather news to my partner’s downstairs study. I worry that over time, that window will protest its daily drenching with a slow leak that trickles into said study. So, I decided to fashion some sort of fix that wouldn’t interfere with the spray to the garden but would block it to the window … without, of course, looking tacky or blocking the sunshine coming into the aforementioned study.

Well, my father’s legacy to me is the pleasure of tinkering. I don’t have many tools now (I used to have more, back in my youth), and I never had great skills, but I like it and I actually manage to “fix, mend, or improve” stuff occasionally. On rare occasions, I even “invent.” This was an invention moment. So, I plotted a plan. Between the garden and the window is a huge window well, which is surrounded by a wrought iron fence. So I wondered whether I could arrange something against or on that fence that would keep the spray confined to the flowerbed and spare the window. After scouting around the house and the garage for a while, I spotted the garbage can lid. Worth a try, said I. If it works in principle, I can try to conjure up a more lasting (less ugly) solution based on this. Sure enough (or, as my dad would say, “sure nuf”), it worked.

Off I went to the hardware store. Now, you should know that there have been times in my life when I was forbidden from entering hardware stores. A hardware store is to me like a bookstore to bookworms, a flea market to hoarders, or a candy store to most of us. However, since I was alone, there was no one to intervene, so off I went. Sometimes when I go to a hardware store, I know just what I’m looking for, which is halfway fun, the knowing. But the really fun times are when I’m not sure. I rarely ask for help—partly because I’m vain and arrogant (and I learned tinkering from my father, who would never ask for help!), partly because the adventure lies in exploring, figuring it out. The stuff I tinker with can come from any department in the hardware store. For this project, I cruised slowly through plumbing, electrical, hardware (nuts, bolts, brackets, hooks, etc.), lumber, gardening … and places in between.

I’ll spare you the many steps and many minutes and cut to the chase. With a bit of wandering, I found the perfect piece of Plexiglas, and was trying to figure out how to attach it. I told this hardware store guy my thoughts, said I was looking for something like a "U"-bracket—but, I told him, it might not know it’s a "U"-bracket. He understood precisely what I meant, and we headed off together on the hunt. Short version of a long walk: after while, he suggested a fix, which I agreed would be perfect, and I headed home with my stuff. To my delight, this gizmo will work—and, bonus, I can take it down any time I want to.

  

Curiosity being lowered by the "sky crane"

Now, back to the museum. I was reminded of this tinkering experience by a video I saw at the museum. I was looking forward to visiting the space section, and I was especially interested in seeing simulations of the landing of the new Mars rover, Curiosity. In case you don’t know how amazing this is: this particular rover came to rest on the surface of Mars after being lowered by a “sky crane.” This apparatus was actually a little rocket ship in its own right that descended toward the surface, holding Curiosity in its huge embrace. Then, some distance above the surface, it released the rover (while still hovering!) and lowered it slowly to the ground. This maneuver has never been tried before, and I really wanted to see it (at least in simulation). The folks at mission control called this “7 minutes of terror” because that’s how long it took from the time this complicated contraption reached the top of the Martian atmosphere until it landed safely (or not). Here’s a (slightly blurred) picture of the video showing this simulation. (As it turns out NASA has now released a great short video that you can see online. But I suspect it was more fun to see it surrounded by screaming kids in fake space suits.)

So here’s the tinkering part … This Curiosity simulation was just one segment in a series of stories about space exploration. One of those stories included a video interview with an astronaut on the International Space Station. He had this problem: when he tried to type on his laptop, the pressure of his fingers on the keys would make him float upward. NASA had installed foot straps where he could tuck in his toes to keep from floating, but that made his feet and ankles tired long before his work was done.

His wife, Earth-bound and never having experienced weightlessness, but no doubt hearing his tale of woe, came up with an idea. She thought to herself, “I could tinker (in the sense of ‘invent’) something to solve this problem. What I need is a trip to the hardware store.” (I’m certain she thought this, even though no one told me so. I recognize a fellow tinker when I hear about one.) And off she went. She came home with some very lightweight bungee cord, long enough to reach from the floor of the space station up between her typing husband’s feet, around his waist, and back to the floor. Since it only had to be strong enough to compensate for the pressure of his fingertips on the keyboard, this lightweight cord was plenty strong for the task.



Here’s a blurry screenshot of this guy tethered to the floor by a bungee cord the diameter of a thick spaghetti noodle. It's the white cord coming up between his feet and around behind his waist. He’s in his “quarters” here. It's small because you don’t need room for a horizontal bed in space. 







To sleep, he just slips into a bag bungeed loosely to the wall (seen in the almost equally blurry picture to the right).

What a fine finish to my Wednesday adventure at the museum! I got to see a simulation of Curiosity landing on Mars, and I learned about an astronaut’s wife who also belongs to the little-known and totally unofficial tinkering society. 

Maybe she’d like to get together for an adventure some Wednesday. I wonder if she could get us tickets for a trip to Mars.

Last Act in the Footlights

This week, I encountered two very (very!) different blogs about retirement and aging. First, a friend sent me an “Opinionator” blog from the New York Times with the inspiring title, “For Healthy Aging, a Late Act in the Footlights.” Later in the week, I heard a Fresh Air segment on NPR in which Terri Gross was interviewing the author of a blog called “The Voice of Aging Boomers.” A starker contrast is hard to imagine.

First, the “Late Act in the Footlights.” This blog points to the challenge that many of us faced as we approached retirement without the resources to support the exotic adventures we imagined as we dreamed of retirement. As the column frames it, “Absent money and a sense of possibilities, retirement can become more time to fill with television.” This is the theme of countless columns and blogs and articles on retirement: how to make your retirement (and/or aging in general) a rich and satisfying experience. That’s harder when you come to it with limited financial resources. But, as this article and many others (including this blog) have argued, it really is possible to find great joy in aging. 

This particular piece offers a range of novel ideas to fill the void of all that extra time that retirement dumps in our laps. Artists' colony, senior Olympics, collective film production, or community theater anyone? Most of the ideas mentioned here are the brainchildren of a program called EngAGE, which is located in LA. But there's no reason these ideas couldn't be exported to any place where someone has the time and energy to clone them (and maybe some capital to support the effort, I suppose). Check them out ... maybe you're the person to bring them to your town!

So far, so good … aging can indeed be full and rich and expansive (even in LA)!

And then I heard the Fresh Air interview, and another door on aging opened. “The Voice of Aging Boomers” is written by a man who has early-onset Alzheimer’s. His condition put him in an assisted living facility at the age of 52—far younger than most of the residents there, and younger than most of us at retirement. But retired he was, and living in assisted living with fully intact cognitive ability, no peers of his own age (or even his own generation), and many years ahead. Since he’s there, he has decided to use his aging years well. He has taken on a role as the “voice” of people living in what he describes as a setting filled with disability, dementia, despair, and death. Many people living in this circumstance are unable to speak—or speak clearly—for themselves, he argues. Many others are dismissed as simply old people who are somewhat demented or depressed or just lonely. But in fact, they are desperately in need of more genuine caring, honest attention, and thoughtful understanding and less patronizing, idealizing, de-individualizing, and dismissive treatment. So he has become the “voice of ambient despair.”

This is the other side of aging. For many of us, some part of our last years will be spent beyond the reach of artists colonies and community theater. Beyond, even, Sudoku and crosswords. The stark reality is that no matter how many almonds and blueberries we eat, no matter how many miles we walk or how many weights we lift, no matter how little we weigh, smoke, or drink and how much we exercise, sleep, or pray, we will all die. Relatively few of us will slip painlessly and quietly away in our sleep. Most won’t, as the currently popular slogan urges, “… skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, champagne in the other … screaming, ‘WOO HOO what a ride!’” Many of us will spend the last weeks, months, or even years of our lives not in theater or painting classes but in extended ill health. I know it’s a downer, but there it is.

So, I ask myself, how do we balance these two realities: Aging can be rich and expansive … and … Aging inevitably ends. Or, perhaps more accurately, how do we balance our reaction to these two realities? How do we both fully live now and fully accept that we will die? How can one mind and heart possibly contain both our wish to relish the time we have and the knowledge that one day—one finite day, a day with a date and weather, a day that’s someone’s birthday, someone’s wedding day—it will all simply stop?

Better minds than mine have contemplated this question since humans had minds for contemplating. In fact, some folks argue that this is what distinguishes humans from all other species: we have the ability to know we will die. For better (we can “get our affairs in order”) and for worse (we have to live with this realization, however we may try to ignore or deny it). Some folks have argued that this is one purpose served by a belief in an afterlife: we don’t have to accept that our life will stop if we are certain that it continues beyond the grave.

Whatever your position on these arguments, my personal experience is this: I am occasionally stunned by the reality that the years ahead keep getting fewer (and they're passing faster!), and I'm eager to live as fully as I can manage today. Ask me about this again if/when I find myself in assisted living, staring at a world that seems full of disability, dementia, despair, and death. I may find that eagerness less compelling. 

Until then, pass the chocolate and the (alcohol-free) champagne!

Conventional language

The airwaves and cyberspace have been awash these past two weeks in buzz words and slogans, all intended to persuade us that one or the other candidate will be the perfect President. Words are cheap, they say. You can say anything. But words also shape reality. Political language can persuade, convince, sway—or, probably more often, affirm what we already believe—simply by its being said. And it seems that once said, political statements become de facto truths, at least in some circles. Regardless of whether their claims are true. And regardless of whether what’s promised will ever actually happen. 

I have a long-standing fascination with language and how it acts in the world. The power it has to shape reality. So naturally I’m intrigued by the sort of language that politicians use to make their points (and grab our votes). This includes the buzz words (support/entitlement, illegals/Dreamers, individual success/collective responsibility) and slogans (“Are you better off than you were 4 years ago?”; “‘We’re in this together’ is a better vision than ‘You’re on your own’.”). It also includes the words folks wrap around those buzzes and slogans, the topics they choose to talk about and the words they use to name those things.

So imagine my delight when I discovered  that the New York Times has been creating a “word cloud” during these political conventions. In case you’ve never heard of a word cloud, it’s a diagram that shows the key words that have been used in some setting. The size of their representation in the diagram shows how often they’ve been used. The NYT word cloud is made up of circles with the words inside, and the size of each circle shows how often that word was used. Since both conventions are now over, today’s word cloud compares the language used in speeches by both parties during both conventions.

This is such fun to explore, I can hardly contain myself—really!  It made me smile out loud! Before I send you off to the cloud (perhaps never to return), here’s a bit of a word cloud map.

This word cloud shows how often a particular word or phrase was used per 25,000 words spoken. Also, the circles are colored red and/or blue—red for the Republicans, of course, blue for the Democrats. So, for instance, when it shows that the word “science” has a frequency of 2 for the (blue) Dems and 1 for the (red) Repubs, that means that Dems said “science” twice for every 25,000 words  spoken—not just twice overall (which is good news!). Oh, and in general, words that Dems used more are on the left side of the diagram (how fitting!), and those that Repubs used more are on the right.

One more thing before you head cloudward: As you look at the word cloud, think first about the sort of global impression you get (other than that “Obama” and “Romney” topped the list for frequency on both sides, by a mile). The first thing I noticed was the tone, the “feel” of words that were more Dem-leaning (more blue, more toward the left) compared with those that were more Republican-leaning (more red, more toward the right). Some words are right in the middle. It seems everyone talked about families, jobs, the economy, the American dream, choice, and hope … although I’m guessing the two sides were saying very different things about these topics. Some words are surprises: who would expect Dems to mention war and veterans more than Republicans did?

And finally, here’s the really cool part! Once you’ve explored the cloud a bit, check out the interactive feature. You can type in words or phrases of your choice in the box at the top, and it will give you an instant analysis of how often those were used by each party. At the bottom, you’ll see excerpts from speeches where your words were used. This is beyond fun! I tried several words and got some interesting results: community, individual, together, wealth, cooperation, Dreamers, borders, vision, military, international, dependent/dependency, power, grandmother (I knew the Dems said this a lot, so I was curious). Try it yourself, and then try to figure out why it worked out as it did. Your guess is as good as anyone’s , so go for it!

OK, so now it’s your turn … and then you can come back for the finale. Here’s the New York Times word cloud from the Republican and Democratic National Conventions.  Go play on it. (If you're reading this on a smart phone, go check it out on a computer. You'll be glad you did.)

Fun, wasn’t it? And now, back from the fun to the fray …

I have to admit that I didn't listen to Romney’s acceptance speech … nor Ryan’s, nor the speeches nominating them, nor any other part of the Republican convention. Other than reading excerpts from those speeches and reading a lot of commentaries about them, I confess to deep ignorance about what was said in Tampa as the Republicans dodged Isaac and recollections of Romney’s record in Massachusetts.

But I listened to a lot of the Dem convention and watched a good chunk of it. And I gotta say that hearing these speeches—especially from Julian Castro (mayor of San Antonio … remember this name!), Elizabeth Warren, Bill Clinton, and President Obama—was like walking through that spring-green, sun-splashed field you see in ads for Claritin. It has been years (dare I say decades?) since I heard that sort of flat-out, unapologetic liberal rhetoric. It worked for me. "This, this," I thought, "is the country I want to live in!" Not the one that measures success in dollar signs, but the one that says things like, "If I get in the door, I don't close it behind me. I hold it open as wide as I can for the next person to pass through."

Most of the talking heads and bloggers thought Clinton’s speak was excellent. I totally agree. Some of the pundits didn’t like Obama’s speech so much (great on rhetoric, short on specific proposals). Although I agree on the particulars, his speech was certainly inspiring to this old leftie. Now, I’m sure the Dems had their bad moments, too. I wasn’t privy to the wrangling over the inclusion of “God” in the platform and the debate about whether Jerusalem should be declared the capital of Israel. But the rhetoric that I heard, the words that were designed to move me did just that.

Of course, the most important take-away message from all of this was the absolute obligation to vote. Obama said that this is the clearest choice in a generation. I’m thinking maybe longer than that. The word cloud says it in pictures; the speeches said it in words; the Electoral College will say it in the kind of government we’ll have for the next 4 years … and the kind of judicial system we’ll have long after that. Bottom line: We all must vote. You know this.

I’m happy to give you a suggestion if you’re unsure which words you find more compelling…

Invisibility

The September issue of Smithsonian magazine has a really delightful special section on invisibility. 

Now, in truth, invisible is about my least favorite place to be, as I have mentioned earlier in this blog. So, when I read the question that begins the opening article of the section, “Who hasn’t wanted to be invisible?”, I had an immediate response. (You can imagine this coming from a small child, frantically raising her hand from the back of the room.) “Me! I haven’t!” But let me put aside my own issues with invisibility and share the really fun stuff I found in this magazine.

As I read the introduction to this section, I became curious, even eager to consider invisibility from a different perspective. So, I read on, beyond that first outrageous question: “For thousands of years, invisibility has embodied a unique contradiction, warning us of the consequences of unaccountable power while raising our awareness of those among us who are made to feel powerless.” Now this was getting interesting! So I headed into the articles that followed.

These articles give new dimensions to the concept of invisibility (can invisibility have dimensions?). They cover topics from gorillas to parasites, secret codes to earthquake-proof buildings. But before I get all engrossed in the range of topics, let me get to the part I most want to share with you all. The story of an artist.

Liu Bolin is a Chinese artist whose shop, along with many others, was shut down by the Chinese government. To protest the government’s attempt to make him and his art invisible, Liu Bolin turned their censorship on its head—he created a whole body of work that uses art to makes him invisible in plain sight. The story about Liu Bolin includes a number of photographs of his works. After you see those, check out this video showing the painstaking process of creating these scenes—including the contributions of many other artists.

This gives invisibility a whole new place in the world … invisibility as a visible tool of protest. I have to say, this leaves me scratching my head. I think I have to ponder a bit on how my own struggles against invisibility might be turned around to become a celebration of invisibility itself. More on that another day—although your thoughts on the matter are, as always, most welcome.

Meanwhile, the other articles were also great reading. So let me show you the list of topics covered under the umbrella of “invisibility” so you can pursue them at your leisure.

·        “Gorillas in the midst” – research on how easily we can literally fail to see a gorilla walking across the room

·        Scientists’ attempts to locate the “invisible” parasite that causes malaria

·        A 1963 New Yorker book review that launched the war on poverty by making the “unseen” poor visible

·        An earthquake-proofing technique that makes buildings “invisible” to earthquakes.

·        A voracious jellyfish that's invisible to its prey, allowing it to devastate whole populations

·        (Imaginary) hidden codes that are frequently “discovered”—in the pyramids, in paintings, in crossword puzzles—largely because human beings are so adept at finding/creating patterns in anything they see.

Who knew invisibility could be fun? 

So, I ask myself, how do I feel about invisibility now? It’s pretty predictable, actually. Whenever I look at something from a frame of reference other than my own, it takes on new meaning, has a different impact. This is not a promise that I’ll stop cringing when someone says “invisible,” but I do promise to think about how I might.