What a Difference a Day Makes

     On Monday, Memorial Day, we watched a traditional parade that marched down the street to the historic cemetery, around the corner from our house. Then on Tuesday we hopped onto American Airlines Flight 1886 and flew to Las Vegas.

The view outside our hotel window -- we're not going to see JLow

     I admit I don't like to fly. And then American is talking about going on strike, and the weather report said there were scattered thunderstorms coming in during the afternoon . . . and yet, the flight took off on time and went perfectly smoothly. Sometimes we worry too much.

Gambling machines everywhere

     Neither B nor I is a gambler. We're spending two days at the MGM Grand. B has taken a tour to see the Hoover Dam, while I go rent a car and then spend the afternoon in the hotel's Lazy River. Tonight we're going to see Cirque du Soleil Ka.

We are going to see Cirque du Soleil

     So we're skipping most of the "charms" of Las Vegas, in favor of driving up to see the more natural beauty of Zion Canyon in Utah and the even more spectacular vistas of Bryce Canyon further up in the hills.

This is not us ... we don't really gamble

   
     Then it's on to Phoenix, the real reason for our trip.

In Case You Missed the Parade

     It was Memorial Day, dedicated to remembering and honoring people who died while serving in the United States Armed Forces. And it is also the unofficial beginning of summer

     The Memorial Day parade is a time-honored tradition in small towns and big cities all across the country. In case you weren't able to get to a parade this year, here are a few photos from our parade in Pennsylvania.

     There were fire engines.

     An honor guard.

     Old cars.

     And horses ... a local group works with horses and wounded vets.

     Along  with boy scouts and cub scouts, brownies and girl scouts.

     Some weird stuff, too, like this old VW bus (which if you look carefully, is being pushed!).

          A marching band.

     The Village Improvement Association supports the hospital and other health facilities in town.

     Another marching band.

     This guy on an old-style bicycle.

     A patriotic group of players.

     Yes ... a helicopter!

     A dancing troupe tumbled along.

     There's a Civil War museum in town -- Pennsylvania is rightfully proud of its role in abolition, the underground railroad and the Civil War.
   

     And, finally, the farmers brought up the rear.
   

   

Hot Topic of the Week

     The hot topic among Baby Boomer bloggers this week is health, of both the physical and mental kind. Which, I must admit, is a much more positive way to approach the subject than the way I just did in my recent post The Reasons We Will Die.

     On the Survive and Thrive Boomer Guide Rita R. Robison tells us that Most Sunscreens Contain Possible Harmful Ingredients or Don't Protect Well from the Sun. She explains what ingredients to avoid, and reports that the best choices contain minerals, zinc oxide and titanium dioxide. In case you can't read the fine print on your sunscreen tube she offers a link to a database listing sunscreens that meet environmental criteria for safety and effectiveness.

Good or bad?

     Carol Cassara reports that she had to take a surgical leave this past spring, and so she knows a bit about what many who are sick or recovering might appreciate. This week in her blog A Healing Spirit she offers 4 Easy, Affordable Ways to Help when Someone Is Sick.

     Kathy Gottberg says that she doesn't think of herself as an anxious person. But even so, she admits she occasionally finds her mind spinning out of control. In SmartLiving 365 she offers advice from psychiatrist Judson Brewer on Reducing Stress and Anxiety by Understanding How Our Brains Work.

     Meanwhile, for anyone facing the stress of moving in retirement, Laura Lee Carter asks: Do you like, or dislike, major changes in your life? In The Big Decision: Retirement Options she talks about how she and her husband made a big change five years ago, moving away from their suburban home outside of Denver. "It's much easier to stay in the same home and hope for the best," she concludes, "but then you will never know the rewards of moving on and choosing something completely different."

     For her part, Meryl Baer of Six Decades and Counting upped her game this week by beginning a part-time volunteer activity. She was recruited to be one of an elite group called Old Coots Give Advice. She and her fellow old coots encamped at the local farmer's market, where vendors sell healthful fruits and vegetables, local honey and fresh-baked breads, and they offered their wisdom on subjects from babies to bathrooms, from coffee to cooking kale.

Doggie meds

     And speaking of hot, Jennifer of Unfold and Begin recently moved to Florida. For their anniversary she and her husband decided to check out some sites. In Did I Just Swim with Manatees? she recounts her experience at Crystal River, where the manatees winter over in warm waters fed by the nearby natural springs.

     Finally, Rebecca Olkowski with BabyBoomster reports in The Joys and Challenges of Being a Doggie Mama that she is babysitting her granddog, along with two other dogs, ranging in age from 11 1/2 to 14 1/2. Because they are all considered older dogs they each have their own special food, meds and health issues. If you ask me, she's being more of a Doggie Doctor than a Doggie Mama. But regardless, she loves the work. "Having dogs to cuddle with all day long gets me through a lot of stress," she says. "Dog hugs are way better than taking a pill. And the dogs give me plenty of exercise too."
 

The Reasons We Will Die

     We hear about political issues on TV and read about them on the Internet and in the newspapers. Trade wars. Abortion. Inequality. Corporate greed. Socialism. Health care.

     All these are important. But they pale in comparison to other issues that are more personal and more immediate, because they are the ones most likely to kill us. I've come up with a list of the most dangerous concerns that are right in front of our eyes, the reasons why we are most likely to die prematurely. A top 8, if you will. I list them in order, counting down to the worst killer at the end -- not to be morbid, but as a warning. If we pay attention, maybe we'll dodge a bullet.

     8. Global warming. The storms are fiercer, the fires hotter, the flood waters rising. At least one scientist speculates that deadly bugs and bacteria trapped in the Arctic ice will be unleashed on humankind as the ice slowly melts. Honestly, I don't think global warming will kill me. It might kill my grandchildren, but not me.

     7. Airplane crash. I know, I know, it's supposedly the safest way to travel. Tell that to the 346 people who went down with the Boeing 737 Max. And remind the seagulls to get out of the way of the jet engines. Okay, I will probably not be killed in an airplane crash, especially since I don't fly too often. But I am flying to Las Vegas next week, and I know I'll be a little nervous stepping aboard the plane.

     6. Opioids. Again, I think the odds are with me, especially since I don't take anything more potent than Advil or Tylenol. But I realize that opioids are seductive. Probably very few of the 70,000 Americans who died of drug abuse last year ever thought they'd be a victim, either.

     5. Nuclear armageddon. North Korea. Iran. Pakistan. Russia. Islamic terrorists. Any of these people could wipe us out at any time. I wouldn't be surprised if we're exterminated in a nuclear holocaust long before global warming kills us. Of course, we've been living with this threat our whole lives. But just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean it can't happen.

     4. Gun violence. There are some 30,000 shooting deaths every year in America. More than half are suicides. I'm not suicidal. I don't own a gun. Also, I'm not African American, and for a host of reasons black Americans are eight times more likely to be killed by firearms than white people. Still ... I do go onto a college campus about once a week, and that's where some shootings occur, and so every once in a while I do think about it.

A scary sight

     3. Falling. Some 32,000 Americans die every year from falls. Guess which age group suffers the most? One out of every four older Americans falls every year -- in the shower, on the stairs, slipping on a throw rug. Not every one results in death or injury, but according to the Centers for Disease Control about 7 million older Americans are injured every year in falls, with 3 million of them showing up in emergency rooms. I try to be super careful in the bathroom. I always hold onto the banister when I take the stairs. And I have a running battle with B who likes throw rugs; but t this point the only ones in the house are in her office.

     2. Traffic accident. If boarding an airplane, stepping into the shower or walking onto a college campus makes me a little nervous, then getting into my car should fill me with terror. And sometimes it does . . . for example, when a ten-ton semi is bearing down on me at 70-some mph, or an aggressive driver is weaving in and out of traffic, or someone is tailgating me on the highway because I am only going 5 mph over the speed limit and they want to go 10 or 15 mph over the speed limit. And then I notice, while they're breaking three or four traffic laws they are simultaneously ... talking on the phone! Probably the most dangerous place any one of us goes is onto an American highway.

     1. Ourselves. I have left the most dangerous issue to the last. I know I'm supposed to eat right. But does that stop me from reaching for the sugary donut? I know I'm supposed to exercise. But does that stop me from saying to myself, Oh, I'll do it later? Or I'm supposed to read a book, or do a puzzle, or enhance my social life by going to a party. All these things are supposed to make me live longer. But instead I flop on the couch and watch a rerun of some stupid TV show I already watched a few years ago.

     Yes, we can urge the politicians to address global warming and the nuclear threat. And they should. We can urge drivers to slow down on the highway. And they should. But sometimes we are our own worst enemy.

How Do You Talk to Old People?

     B and I visited her former father-in-law last week. He's 94 years old and lives in an assisted-living facility. He's one of those rare men who outlive their wives. The two of us were bringing him out to lunch.

     Usually, when we go to see him, it's in a family group. He has three daughters (along with his son, B's husband, who died almost 20 years ago). B and I usually greet him warmly, say hello how are you, make some light, casual chat. But we don't really talk one-on-one.

     So in the car on our way over to his place, B and I discussed how we would engage him in conversation. What could we talk about that he'd be interested in?

     Two of his daughters live nearby; the third lives out west. She'd recently visited, and we knew the three daughters had recently gone to visit their old family home in New Jersey. Maybe we could get him to talk about the old neighborhood, tell us a story about the kids. Maybe he'd open up a little about his past life. It would give us something to keep the conversation going, and it might be interesting.

     So we arrived. He was waiting for us at the door. We drove over to the restaurant, helped him out of the car and settled into a table. B and I each ordered a sandwich. He went for a full, hot meal. He is used to three squares a day in his assisted-living cafeteria.

     We exchanged our usual pleasantries. We talked a little about his children, his grandchildren and now two great-grandchildren. Then I mentioned that his daughters had told us they'd visited their old home, and posted a few pictures online. So ... is that where they grew up?

     "Oh, yeah."

     "So, how long did you live there?"

     "Ah, let me think. It was my wife's house. She grew up there."

     "Yeah . . ."

     He stared at us.

     "So," B ventured, "your oldest daughter and her husband were high-school sweethearts, right?"

     Pause. "Yeah, that's right."

     Well, you get the idea. Talking about the past was like pulling teeth. I don't know if he didn't remember much, or if he just didn't want to talk about it. I thought maybe he just didn't talk very much at all anymore, living in the facility by himself, without his wife.

     But as soon as we dropped the questions about his family and moved on to the subject of the activities at his assisted-living facility, he suddenly became very voluble. He told us about his poker game, and his pinochle game, and the exercise class he takes. He waxed enthusiastically about his meals. They got a new grill in the kitchen, and he says now the pancakes in the morning are much better -- lighter and fluffier and tastier.

     So, obviously, I'm got giving any advice in this post. I'm asking for help. I remember as my own parents got older, trying to get them to talk about their younger years, but they were never really interested. I only ever got the bare outline and a few anecdotes.

     Is my experience typical? If so, how do you get old people to open up and talk about their younger years? Many of them led interesting lives, I'm sure. Maybe they were immigrants. Or they grew up on a farm. Or were in the military. They had jobs, owned businesses, lived lives that were very different from ours.

     It seems a shame to let all that history just die with them. So how do we get them to remember their stories and share them with us?