Sugar Makes You Stoopid

     Recently, Newsweek featured a cover story on obesity (in conjunction with an HBO special on overweight Americans) in which author Gary Taubes challenged the conventional wisdom that we get fat because we eat too much and don't get enough exercise. Taubes instead claims that certain foods, particularly refined sugars and grains, are the primary culprits in spreading the epidemic of obesity in America.

     I greeted this story with no joy. I, myself, am not a big meat eater. But I love cereal, bread, pasta. And at my local 7-Eleven there's a daily special. One donut costs 69 cents, but you get two for a dollar. So, you know ... just in the interest of fiscal responsibility, I usually buy two.

     Taubes acknowledges that fats and meats may cause other problems, such as higher cholesterol, but they don't make us gain weight. In fact, per capita red-meat consumption peaked in this country in the mid-1970s, before the obesity epidemic even got off the ground. Since then, consumption of red meat has steadily declined, while the consumption of carbohydrates has increased -- along with our weight.

     The problem is that carbohydrates carry the cheapest calories, and as Taubes says (and I have personally confirmed), "They can be plenty tasty without a lot of preparation and preservation." But the biology suggests that they make us fat, while other foods (fats, proteins, and green leafy vegetables) do not.

     Sugars, refined grains and starches affect the hormone insulin, which regulates fat accumulation. Both sucrose (the white, granulated stuff we sprinkle on cereal) and high-fructose corn syrup produce elevated levels of insulin, which in turn brings about a deleterious effect on metabolism and promotes the steady accumulation of fat in our tissue. (High and unstable levels of insulin are also a hallmark of type 2 diabetes.)

     Now comes along a new study from UCLA reporting that eating sugar not only makes us fat, but also makes us stupid. Researchers gave a fructose solution to rats and observed that they had more difficulty figuring out how to get through a maze than rats on a regular diet. When the brains of the sugar-fueled rats were examined, researchers found that their insulin was less effective in controlling blood sugar and regulating synapse function in the brain.

     Researchers found one partial antidote. Rats who had their sugar-coated diet supplemented with flaxseed oil and fish oils, both of which are sources of omega-3 fatty acids, were able to work their way through the maze faster than the rats who'd been given just the sugar solution.

Dr. Fernando Gomez-Pinilla of UCLA

     Says Fernando Gomez-Pinilla, professor in physiological science at UCLA, "Eating a high-fructose diet over the long term alters your brain's ability to learn and remember information. But adding omega-3 fatty acids to your meals can help minimize the damage."

     So what should we eat? The latest clinical trials suggest that all of us would benefit from fewer sugars and fewer refined grains (bread, pasta) and starchy vegetables (potatoes). Meanwhile, evidence suggests that diets that are severely restricted in fattening carbohydrates and rich in animal products—meat, eggs, cheese—and green leafy vegetables are arguably the best approach to controlling your weight, if not the healthiest diet to eat overall. Not only does weight go down when people eat like this, but heart disease and diabetes risk factors are reduced.

     So, on my next trip to 7-Eleven, I guess I'd better double-check my arithmetic. Or, I could pick up some broccoli on the way home.
     
   

Who Gives Money to Their Grownup Kids?

     B's son came home from school the other day; he had been to a birthday party at the apartment of one of his friends. The friend is going to college and working as a salesperson in an Apple store. She has an apartment in a luxury building in the city, which she shares with a classmate. It's a new building, with a view and a doorman and a rooftop garden (where they had the party). And guess who's paying for this luxury apartment? The two girls' parents.

     The report made me shake my head. At what point do parents stop spoiling their kids?

     Then I thought, well, I have two 20-something children. They are both now out of college, they're both still single, and they both have fulltime jobs -- not a small feat for young adults in this economy. But neither one makes much money -- about enough to pay their rent with a little left over for incidentals, so it doesn't bother me to help them out a little bit.

     I do not pay their monthly rent in a luxury building. But I do pay my son's cellphone bill (it's cheaper to have him on my account than for him to pay separately) and I pay for his fitness club (because I want him to be healthy); and I pay to fix up my daughter's car (because I want her to be safe) and a few other sundry items.

     Can I afford to help them out? Yes, I can. Does it mean that I have to cut back on a few expenses of my own? Yes, it does.

     (And does it sound like I'm making excuses?) But I don't really mind.

     I was taken by the words of George Clooney in his recent movie The Descendants. He said he feels that it's good if you can give your kids enough money so they can afford to do what they want, but not give them so much that they can afford to do nothing.

     Of course, in the movie George Clooney plays the descendant of Hawaiian royalty and the trustee of an extended family that holds millions of dollars worth of prime Hawaiian property, while I'm the descendant of some European castoffs and hold a tract house in the far reaches of a Northeastern suburb. Nevertheless, I get what he means.

     According to a recent survey by Ameriprise Financial, an investment firm headquartered in Minneapolis, I am not alone in offering some financial support to my kids. "Nearly all Boomers surveyed (93%) say they have provided some form of financial support to their adult children. A majority have helped them pay for college tuition or loans (71%), allowed them to move home and live rent-free (55%) or helped them buy a car (53%). Many are also helping their kids pay for car and health insurance, as well as cover basic expenses like rent, utility and car payments."

     The survey showed that a lot of Baby Boomers are also helping out their parents, which puts them in double financial jeopardy. The result? Many Boomers have stopped saving for their own retirement. Ameriprise reports that now in 2012 only one-third of Boomers say they are trying to grow their savings, a significant decline from an earlier 2007 study showing that 44% were adding to their savings.

     One key difference, however, is that only 10% of Boomers say helping their parents has slowed down their retirement savings. But 34% feel the same about the support they’ve provided their adult children.

     I'd be interested to know how some others have handled this situation or feel about the issue. But for me, I'm thinking you shouldn't let pressure from your kids, or your impulse for generosity, hurt your own retirement plans. So we need to open up a discussion with our adult children about how they can manage their own finances more effectively. And we need to talk to them about the limits of our financial support. Sometimes, as parents, we think we can do everything. But we must recognize that there's also a time to let go.

     So, as for those parents paying for their daughter's luxury apartment, I'd advise them to listen to George Clooney's character in The Descendants. As for the rest of us, by all means help out your kids, if you can afford it, but not at the expense of robbing your own retirement nest egg.

Blogging Boomers Carnival

     The current edition of the Blogging Boomers Carnival is brought to you by Laura Lee Carter, who shakes out some of the interests of her fellow Baby Boomers -- from astronomy to writing; from food to finance; from travel to dogs.

     So if any of these topics smell good to you, go fetch the links at Midlife Crisis Queen, where you can sniff them out, chew them over and lap them up. Because as Groucho Marx was reputed to have said, "Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."

You Knew I Never Had a Chance

     I admit, it was a long shot right from the get go. So, now, gracefully I cede my ground and deliver the dinosaur bookcase to someone who . . . who will appreciate it.

     But not before I tell you, when I delivered the bookcase, Leslie, the Goodwill store manager, walked out the front door -- she must have seen me coming -- and she was clapping her hands and wore a huge smile on her face. "Oh, I love it!" she enthused.

     I pointed out some of its merits but conceded that not everyone liked the bookcase.

The dinosaur arrives

 
     "Oh, I don't like it," she replied. "I love it. I'm not even sure if I'm going to sell it; I'll bring it to the back of the store and put my children's books on it."

     "Well, I'm glad you like it," I demurred.

     "I don't like it, I love it," she repeated as she signaled to her assistant to carry it inside. I followed her in, took a last look at my bookcase as though it was an endangered species, and said goodbye.

   

My bookcase finds a new home

No Accounting for Taste

     B and I are having a bit of a contretemps. She's being very unreasonable, in my opinion, so I thought I'd reach out to my friends in the blogosphere for some support. Because as you'll soon see, my position is obviously right, and B is just being ... impossible!

     It all started a few weeks ago when B and I were helping out at the used book sale at our local library. We were setting up, when what should come through the door as a donation but the coolest, neatest, bossest bookcase you've ever seen. It's custom made. It's homemade. By a master handyman, lovingly crafted for his child.

     Before the sale started, the ladies in charge of the book sale decided on a $50 price tag for the bookcase. But before the doors opened, they decided $50 was perhaps a bit too ambitious. They put a $40 sticker on it as the book sale began. They placed this piece of furniture in the back of the room, hoping it would draw people through the rows of books -- kind of like the way the supermarket places milk at the back of the store.

     Okay, the bookcase didn't sell for $40, so we moved it up next to the checkout counter and brought the price down to $30. Surely someone would grab it now.

     At 2 p.m. we dropped the price to $10, as a couple of the women started worrying about what we would do with this bookcase if it didn't sell at all. At 4 p.m. we marked the price at $5, but still it didn't sell, and the bookcase went into storage in the coat closet with the leftover boxes of books.

     We gave away the books -- some to the senior citizens home in town, and some to the prison up the highway. Our last disbursement occurred this past weekend when we went over to the library to help a woman load the last of the boxes into her SUV -- she is going to use the books in her literacy program and ESL classes.

     After all the boxes were gone, I spied the bookcase standing up against the back wall of the closet. "So I'll take the bookcase if no one else wants it," I ventured.

     The woman in charge of the book sale gave me a puzzled look. "Really?" she replied. "Well, go ahead, take it. We need to get rid of it."

     "Get rid of it?" I said. "It's a really cool bookcase. I can put it in my bedroom."

     That's when B came around the corner. "What's going on?" she challenged.
 
     "The bookcase," I explained. "I'm taking the bookcase."

My new bookcase, temporarily relegated to the basement.

     "No, you're not," she said, looking slightly panicked.

     "Yeah, we can put it in the corner of our bedroom."

     "No, we can't."

     "Well, alright, we can talk about that, but surely we can find someplace for it," I countered.

      "You're not serious."

     "Don't worry," I said, "it'll look good." I wedged the bookcase onto the dolly and carted it out the door. I wheeled it out to her minivan and slipped it into the back. B trailed after me, "You're really taking that?" she kept asking.

     And so, long story short, the bookcase is currently residing in our basement. I want to bring it upstairs to the bedroom. She wants me to bring it out to the curb for trash collection.

     Now, tell me the truth, don't you think it's pretty cool? One of a kind. Admit it . . .  wouldn't you like to have something like this in your bedroom? We're lucky to get it. So, come on, don't you agree it merits a special place?