Identical Harvest

It’s funny how connections are made. Several years ago, the Old Forge Library excessed a series of books, including a twelve-volume set of the Interpreter’s Bible. Heavy duty scholarship: about a thousand pages in each volume, covering various translations and exegesis. It was written in the early 1950’s, so newer editions became available. The whole shebang cost three bucks: so, I bought the set.

Actually, I liked the fact that it was written in the 50’s, featuring a newly postwar-influenced attitude. In reading commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, the editor made a reference to “identical harvest” in association to the sentiment that ‘you reap what you sow’.

The term stuck with me. A quick internet review brought me to the Law of Identical Harvest – a philosophy described by Neville Goddard through the early 50’s to 1970’s. His work is carried on – and there are several sites/blogs that continue to build on his conceptions, which, in brief, are:

Every thought is a seed that will eventually bloom
What you imagine is projected onto the frame of consciousness that you perceive (‘reality’ is you pushed out to the external world)

Of course, there’s lots more. It is similar to the Law of Attraction – and is basically the ‘reap what you sow’ foundation. However, the approach to dealing with who you are and what you want is one I find appealing. The analogy of your life as a tended garden is congenial. In this context, you can choose what seeds to plant – and if you tend your garden (by constant attention, weeding, and soil preparation) your desired seeds will flourish. Makes sense to me.

What caught my attention is a similar theme featured in an old self-help book I read as a preteen (Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill). Published in 1937. What that book showcased, is that what you believe, you can achieve, but it first challenged you to examine what you truly believe. In that sense, the book focused the reader on the “seeds” that you really wanted to grow. The other similarity to Goddard, is that Hill advocated for writing down an outcome you wished to achieve on a slip of paper each night and placing it by your bedside. It may sound corny, but I’ve found it helpful. Goddard also suggested bedtime is an opportune time to plant a thought-seed that you wish to nurture. Perhaps, the difference between the two is that Hill focused on resolve, while Goddard talks about planting a seed while linking it to it a strong emotion.

We’re in that time when people talk about making resolutions for the new year. Some folks disregard the process as wasted effort, because so many resolutions are quickly discarded. However, Goddard makes a different point: just listing a desired goal results plants a seed – a seed that remains forever! It may not flourish in your garden – it could be crowded out with competing seeds or poor soil preparation – but it does not die. Your life – and your garden — is simply a reflection of all the seeds that you have planted by your imagination and how you have tended the crops.

In that respect, listing your wishes for the new year is essentially planting a new crop for the season. Whether the yield is successful lies in good part on the suitability of the seed for the soil you have prepared and your intention to be a constant gardener. What seeds will you plant this year?

P.S., It’s our custom to discuss our writings among ourselves before publishing. Hen challenged me to list the “seeds” I will be planting… George said two things: a) all this sounded like too much planning and it’s never worked for him b) why can’t we write from the heart and stop quoting authors.

First, for Hen: Actually, right after I posted my draft, I listed my seeds on a small card, which I placed by my bedside table: Harmony, Health, and Prosperity. I will keep focus on those goals this season and see what grows!

Second: I met George 50 years ago in our freshman dorm at college. But you only need to talk with George for 5 minutes to understand that his garden is a bouquet of his former students. Even after a long career in teaching, he meets with them for breakfast and lunches; he keeps I touch by social media. Engagement is his gardening technique and he is all in. Don’t ever believe that he just responds to “Holy Crap, I better do something”. As far as his second admonition not to quote authors – sorry, buddy: “you can’t harvest wheat if all you ever plant is grass seed.” – C.S. Lewis

Sunshine Wishes: Anonymous from tinypoetry.com
In a garden where the sunbeams play, 
Wishes dance on a golden ray. 
Soft and gentle, like a hummingbee, 
Moments of hope, so bright and free.

Close your eyes and take a breath, 
Whisper your dreams, let go of the rest. 
With every wish, the flowers bloom, 
Filling the world with sweet perfume. 
Clouds may gather, but don’t you fret, 
For sunshine wishes are never forget. 
They sparkle and glimmer like stars at night, 
Guiding our hearts with warming light. 

So dream, dear child, and believe in the day, 
With sunshine wishes, find your way.
Wrap your hopes in a soft, warm hug, 
And let the world feel your love, snug as a bug.

Growing Your Garden with Intention

I enjoyed learning about the Law of Identical Harvest as introduced by Wal in his lead post this week. After a short Google search I came upon a rather lengthy online audio explanation from Neville Goddard. It also reminded me of the Law of Attraction which is the belief that what you spend your time and energy on becomes your reality. For example, if you dwell on your bills and debt and lack of finances you will conjure up a life of debt and insufficient money. If you focus your thoughts and energy around living with financial comfort and visualize that scenario then that’s what you’ll have!

What I gleaned from listening to Goddard’s talk about The Law of Identical Harvest is that it’s a thought or idea, once imagined, is created (seeded) and is available to all to be cultivated or not. Each of us is born with this capability. And, cultivated with a singular focus and great intensity, one can reach a spiritual level to achieve a wish or desire beyond even physical limitations or scientific explanation.

While I have read about such accomplishments, I’ve never experienced this ability. However, there are a number of things in my life that have occurred that I either wished for fervently over time or wrote down a future goal with deliberate intention and consistent attention. They were once but a dream or hope with low percentages of coming to fruition – but they did. I am a believer in the notion that we have great influence in achieving what we really desire and that intention, attention, commitment, and a positive attitude works!

Recently, I came upon an article written by Ron Shaich. In the article taken from his book “Know What Matters” he talks about writing a Pre-mortem rather than a New Year’s Resolution at the end of each year. He images his final days or hours, how he struggles to draw each breath and is acutely aware of his impending death. Then, he writes a news story, journal entry or obituary drawing on that hypothetical future. He focuses on his accomplishments and he plans out how to get from his present state to this future version of himself. Then, he chooses what projects he should plan for the coming year. In other words, he goes through an exercise to see what garden he wants to leave when he’s gone and what seeds he needs to plant and cultivate each year to create that garden.

Similarly, Stephen Covey presents his second habit of “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People” – Begin With the End in Mind – where he also offers a funeral exercise. He suggests we write our own eulogy based on what we would want a representative from our family, our work, our friends, and our religious congregation to say about us when we die. And, as with Shaich’s pre-mortem concept, he then asks us to look back on what we are doing or need to do so that those who know us will indeed see us in that light. He is basically asking if we are planting and nurturing the seeds that will leave behind the legacy we aspire to. And if not, why not start today?

Wal ends with asking us what seeds we will plant this year. Mine, coincidently, is to literally establish an actual vegetable garden on my newish property. I’ve already begun mind-gardening as I envision where it will be placed, how I will build the raised beds, what and how many vegetables I will grow, and how I’ll fence it in. As to more figurative seeds, I see an improvement in my cognitive and physical health through focused attention on healthier behaviors.

“A goal properly set, is halfway reached.” -John Doerr (American Investor and Venture Capitalist)

Spiritual Refuse

I admire Wally and Henry for their scholarly approach to life. No matter what topic we discuss, Wally has read extensively about it sometime in the past. And the very next e mail inevitably is from Henry who just did some research on the topic and found a couple books worth reading about it. That seems to be the way they led their entire lives. While they were reading scholarly works of all the philosophers and scientists, I was reading fiction books. Perhaps I chose that category of books because I always did have a pretty vivid imagination and a total lack of desire to wade through heavy topics in which I had no interest. Actually while they were reading such treatises, I was usually reading children”s literature because one of the things I loved to do was read to my classes but I always read the books first before I would introduce them to my classes. And that is pretty much how I lived my life from early on til recently. While Wally and Henry were discussing growing their garden with intention, my garden was pretty rocky without a neat path to follow. So instead of Growing my Garden with Intention, my philosophy would better be defined as Holy Crap, I Better Make a Decision because what just happened needs to be addressed! Planning ahead for things wasn’t on my dance card. I have always been a reactor more than a planner. My New Years Resolutions were usually never to make New Years Resolutions and for Lent I would give up homework. I would always try to go with the flow, rather than try to figure out where the flow was going to take me and arrange for alternative approaches if the flow didn’t take me where I thought it might. I adopted this philosophy in my teens as a protection from life as I knew it. There were big decisions in those days that had to be addressed. Where was I going to go to college. My parents were pushing for me to attend City College which I didn’t want to do because most of my high school graduating class would be going there. So did I investigate other options? Absolutely not. When the time came to apply I asked a couple of my friends what they were going to do. My friend Norman was going upstate to New Paltz cause his aunt lived there and he said that i should go there too because I could always get a ride home on the weekend with him. My friend Anne was going to Fredonia and she suggested I go there with her but that was a little too far for me at that point in my life. I wrote out 3 applications- one to Queens College, our local city college, one to Fredonia, and one to New Paltz. No plans necessary, it was out of my hands, I would go wherever I got accepted., or so I thought! As the acceptance letters started coming in I made sure I got the mail before anyone else and there it was Queens College, I hid the letter until others came in so for the moment I was safe from parental pressure. Within a week the other two letters arrived and I was accepted at all 3. I had hoped that the decision would have been made for me by two rejections and one acceptance, but no luck. That night was difficult. I wanted to go to New Paltz but I knew my folks were pushing for the local cheaper choice, So I hid the Queens acceptance letter at the bottom of my laundry basket and announced I wanted to go to New Paltz. Norman’s argument that I could go back and forth with him won out. I never told Mom and Dad that i was accepted to City College! They never asked!

Once in college, you have decisions to make all the time. For the first time in my life I was on my own, nobody was telling me what to do or how to do it. All of a sudden I was living with 2 guys I had never met before. So I had to look like I knew what I was doing, what elective courses should I take, what will I major in. In the back of my head I thought since childhood that maybe I would become a veterinarian, but that was just a lazy thought that sat there until junior year was approaching and some decisions had to be made. My brother was a teacher and so was my aunt in Pennsylvania.Decisions were always hard for me and this one was sort of the most significant decision I had to make so far. Time was running out so I signed up for participation in the campus school, a pre student teaching requirement, and I Ioved it. I began to become a little full of myself, thinking things were always going to just fall into place.- not so fast!

So, this is pretty much how I made most of my major decisions in life. Something would happen requiring some kind of immediate decision and when the pressure was on, the decision is made more easily. The old…Holy crap… I better do something about this till worked for me. This approach was used for deciding on my employment, where would I live, should I buy this house. As an adult I have lived in 5 different homes. Each decision to buy a new house was made because of a new situation change that had to be addressed. I never said, I guess I should plan out where I am going to move to next, I’ll make a list and do some research as to where I want to wind up, that never happened. Instead, it was one decision made that would require additional decisions to follow relatively quickly! My brain seems to work best that way and honestly, this helter-skelter approach to decision making has served me well, financially it worked well for me and career wise as well as life in general. The decision to retire arose quickly with my school district and the State of New York deciding that us old geezers who were hired on Tier 1 way back in the 60’s were getting too expensive to keep us all on the payroll. My school district came up with an incentive to retire, a severance package for unused sick days and then the State of New York came up with a retirement incentive just to get us off the payroll. With the district incentive and the state encouragement that decision became easy. It turned out to be perfect for the direction my life was going in at that time. We opened an inn in Vermont, loved doing it, loved meeting people from all over the world. And once again I settled into a lifestyle that provided me with income, excitement, and new contacts all over the US and Europe. The one thing I can never say is that all the decisions made in my life were carefully planned out and executed in a logical, orderly fashion that would set me up for future decisions that would have to be made for me.

All of this has led me to where I am today. Decisions being made today are of a lesser difficulty degree but still depend on unexpected situations that arise. The inn was doing really well, we were number 1 on Trip Advisor for 2 years in a row and we were voted ‘Innkeepers of the Year’ by the State of Vermont Things were smooth sailing until all of a sudden they weren’t. A new development began to spread across the country called Air BnB. They weren’t required to have inspections, insurances, weren’t required to pay hospitality tax to the state and as a result most of us little inns could no longer compete. Our business was no longer able to sustain itself and so the next decision had to be reached. The inn was sold and I headed back to where my kids were in Kingston, NY. I am pretty exhausted right now so I think I will decide to put an end to the musings of one old crazy guy. I really can’t recommend this approach to life for others. I am practical enough to realize many things could have gone terribly wrong but for some reason things fell into place and provided me and my family with an enjoyable, comfortable life. As a kid, I used to deal with disappointment by imagining the worst thing that could happen in a situation. When the situation passed and the resolution was negative I could shrug my shoulders and figure it was what I anticipated. I wasn’t disappointed because it is what i expected to happen. BUT, if the situation resolved itself in a surprisingly positive way I could rejoice in the moment and enjoy the unanticipated favorable resolution. Hey, it worked for me!

I really can’t recommend this approach to life for others. I am practical enough to realize many things could have gone terribly wrong but for some reason things fell into place and provided me and my family with an enjoyable, comfortable life. As a kid, I used to deal with disappointment by imagining the worst thing that could happen in a situation. When the situation passed, and the resolution was negative I could shrug my shoulders and figure it was what I anticipated. I wasn’t disappointed because it is what i expected to happen. BUT if the situation resolved itself in a surprisingly positive way I could rejoice in the moment and enjoy the unanticipated favorable resolution. Hey, it worked for me!

Featured

Not for Granted

The indoor tennis season has started and the guys on the next court are cracking the ball back and forth over the net – the ball is sizzling!

Not so much on our court.

Bernie, wearing his signature Hawaiian shirt, is having trouble with his knee. He stands helpless as balls are returned just out of his reach. David, once the intercollegiate tennis champ of New York City, has adjusted his game after surgeries on both knees and shoulders. I have missed the entire outdoor season, due to a shoulder injury, and cannot find a serve to save my life. The three of us are like Blinkin’, Dinkin’, and Plod out there. Only Larry, our fourth player, is energized, having just come back from trout fishing in the Adirondacks. Parenthetically, I was really looking forward to trying out my new service motion, timed to Steely Dan’s Babylon Sisters. Instead, I’m hearing Joni Mitchell sing ‘you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone”.

The culmination of our combined 200 years of tennis experience resulted in a twelve-shot rally at the net. Each of us, awkward and unbalanced, can’t get a whole racquet on the ball, but we manage to return each shot just barely over the net. Each reply is worse that the previous shot, but the rally continues until Larry misses a wild overhead blooped over his head.

At the end of the point, we all look at one another in amazement. No one knows what to say. It’s like an out-of-body experience. David finally says: “that was the worst point ever played in the history of tennis” and breaks down in laughter. We all join him. It is humiliating, but funny, that we have been brought so low. It’s also emblematic: we will play better next week, but today was a marker of a measured decline of skills.

Sometimes life is the art of a managed retreat. I love tennis, but realize my best playing days are in the rearview mirror. However, it makes me so happy that I’ve continued to dodge the final silver bullet that would take tennis away as an option. I don’t take it for granted that I can walk onto the court with my friends next month – or even next week. This conclusion heightens my enjoyment of any opportunity to send a yellow, fuzzy ball soaring over a greedy, green net. I won’t quit, even though I’ve passed the top of my form.

Even so, before the end of play, I had managed to thwack myself in the face with my own racquet, hurt my foot, and aggravate my shoulder. Hobbling home with bruised eye, Linda said: “Are you sure you were playing tennis?” No, I’m not so sure I was. I think I was simply trying to stay alive. It just happened to be on a tennis court.

Do you have a similar story?

Here’s a stanza from Edgar Guest’s Don’t Quit (allpoetry.com), which seems appropriate:

“When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
when the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
when the funds are low and the debts are high,
and you want to smile but you have to sigh,
when care is pressing you down a bit – rest if you must, but don’t you quit.”

Too Close to Home

I went for my 6 month check up with my doctor in July. When I got there, they weighed me, took my blood pressure, checked all my blood work and then did the usual stuff….tapping on my chest and back, listening to my heart, all the usual stuff. Everything seemed good! Then he always sits opposite me, puts his computer down and asks if I have anything I want to tell him, any complaints, aches and pains or anything I want to ask him. My doctor is a young guy probably close to 50 years old and I have been seeing him for the last ten years regularly. He followed his usual routine and we sat down and talked. He asked if there was anything I wanted to ask and in my usually snide manner I said ,” I am 78 years old. What kind of shape am I in?” expecting to hear that I have the usual aches and pains and usual movement problems, urination problems and all that stuff. Instead, he got snarky with me and said,”Well, let me just say that at your age if you were a machine, we would have replaced all your parts by now!” I was at a loss for words but mustered up just enough strength to say, “No tip for you this visit.” That is kind of what our relationship has been like since we met.

I completely empathized with Wally’s tennis experiences. I have had many of the same problems that he and his fellow tennis players experienced. Wally had shoulder problems and was concerned about his serve, someone else had knee problems, another had trouble holding the racket, and another had difficulty running around the court. I empathized with all of them. I felt badly for them all experiencing these hardships and then I was overcome with despair. It took Wally and three of his tennis buddies to experience all of those things which I experience all at once every day. When did this happen? I moved into my house almost ten years ago after carefully searching for a house I could manage alone. Back then I could mow the lawn, shovel the sidewalks and driveway, use tools to facilitate work that had to be done. No problem, in fact it was challenging living alone for the first time in my life, and I was up for the task. Unlike Wally’s activities my athleticism over the years has come down to the sport of taking the garbage out. Taking the garbage out requires a tight grasp of the plastic garbage bag that is required to be pulled out of the can in the kitchen and deposited into the proper receptacle. No problem, an easy task. Grab the bag in one hand, other hand filled with recycling, two doors to open before arriving at the large garbage tub on wheels resting by the garage door. This used to be done with little effort and great skill. After breezing through the two doors which easily unlocked and opened using the recycling hand and with the help of my elbow, out to the garage and with my right foot I would flip the lid open and with an amazing shot from 5 or so feet away deposit the garbage bag right into that sucker. That was how I used to do it. Today however the procedure has evolved. The first challenge is to remove the large plastic trash bag from the kitchen can without snagging the bag in such a way as to cause the messiest of garbage to come spilling out while the right hand clumsily dropped the items to be recycled.. Task one now is to retrieve all that emptied out of my arms and bag while fighting to get across the kitchen floor without leaving a trail of coffee grounds across the kitchen. Then the doors…….an immense task to master. If I am wearing the right shirt with some texture, I can cradle the knob into the crook of my elbow and twist it just enough to unlatch the little thingy that goes into the hole in the door frame. Once outside I take a sigh of relief and go to open the top of the can with my arthritic hand forgetting the pain caused when my wrists even twist a little. I should learn some new curse words because the old ones are highly ineffective. That is just one of the sports I participate in! I will spare you the details of climbing up the cellar stairs with a load of clean clothes in a basket. Having to hold the laundry basket with my left hand while at the same time using the handrail because about halfway up the stairs my right knee stops supporting me and as I discovered, without the use of the handrail the basket, clothes and I go tumbling down and the challenge to get up again is unbearable. You get the idea. Having a constant stiff neck from an old volleyball injury, I must always be aware not to put myself in any position where I have to turn my head any further than a 45-degree angle without the shooting pain it calls up. Anyway, you get the idea.

I remember as a young adult when visiting home for the holidays I used to look around at the collection of old Italians sitting around a big table with everyone shouting at each other, not angrily but just to be heard. I remember seeing my Aunt Eleanor’s hands and the distorted shape of her middle finger and pointer. Occasionally I would see her rub that hand right after delivering a platter in the middle of the table with whatever delicacy she created. By that time, my dad had developed a little limp because he was constantly fighting plantar fasciitis. My uncle was always rubbing his left elbow which we could hear crack if the shouting had died down momentarily. I looked around the table and remember thinking if that ever happened to me, please shoot me and put me out of my misery. Now, it is a little too close to home.

And Yet I Continue

Wal provides a clear and relatable description of our journey into the world of the aged. Using his wisdom developed over the years of making sense of life, he turns the frustration of diminished physical skills into a moment of shared laughter and acceptance. And he closes with that life sustaining attitude of gratitude: the deep motivating appreciation that he can still enjoy the gift of playing. Unsaid but understood, is that being with friends, getting exercise, competing, and pushing himself to do his best, is what tennis is about. How well he does or used to do, is not the reason he signed up.

In the first year we began our blog, we wrote about Don Miquel’s Book, The Four Agreements. The last agreement was to always do your best recognizing that your best can and will vary from day to day based on any number of prevailing conditions. It has occurred to me only recently that age, more and more, has become a huge factor. None-the-less, practicing this belief helps me continue to enjoy my life as fully as ever because it allows a perspective that doesn’t compare and fosters a compassion for gratitude.

Wal asks if we have any similar stories to tell. Mine is from a couple of years ago which, because time seems to have accelerated beyond the speed of light, seems like yesterday.

My grandson, Ben and I, were across the street from his house at the ball field having a catch with one of his friends. Shortly, several of his neighbors joined us. Our game of catch soon evolved into a mini version of a baseball game. We took turns hitting, running the bases, and fielding. After about twenty minutes of play my heart rate was off the charts and I began to wonder if, despite having a relatively healthy heart, trying to keep up with these teens was going to be the last thing I ever did. Accepting that fact that I had exceeded my capacity to breathe without gasping, I reluctantly admitted to these young bucks that Pop Pop needed to sit out for a bit. After the game in the quiet of Ben’s house, he looked over at me and delivered his analysis of my skills. “You can hit the ball pretty far, Pop Pop, but you’re not a very good runner.”

While I was briefly saddened that I was likely no longer the able-bodied grandpa he had frequently admired I quickly realized that in the latter part of my 70’s I was still able to spend some time actively playing on a ball field with Ben and his friends. I was and still am deeply grateful for that day.

“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” – Abraham Lincoln

Featured

Age Rangers

Surely, our development follows an arc. We germinate, bud, and blossom; we may produce wonderful fruit along the way. We have many productive seasons. Then slowly we whither; our flexible stems turning woody. Fresh flowers find second beauty as dried arrangements; eventually we will all enrich the soil in some manner.

Who tells us what to expect along the way? When we are young, there are a variety of local guides: elementary schools, cub scouts and brownies, 4-H, Future Farmers of America, boy scouts, girl scouts, sea scouts, Key Clubs, Future Business Leaders of America, ROTC, Outward Bound – you name it, there’s a preparatory organization.

But what happens when you are old – and getting older? Who are your role models, teachers, and guides?

I’m thinking that we have an untapped resource — our nonagenarians. After all, these are the folks who are scouts ranging along the untamed wilderness of Age. They are the folks who are experiencing the changes we only anticipating. I propose we start an organization called the Age-Rangers!

Within this cohort, recognition is given to those who have achieved certain milestones: knee replacement, well there’s a merit badge for that! Dental implants, new hips, kidney stones, cataracts, prostate cancer, spinal stenosis – they’ve survived them all. These should be our go-to consultants.

Wisdom gained by absorbing the slings and arrows of life’s surprises, our nono’s have seen it all. Been there, done that – and still remember a good deal of it. Who better to be in focus groups with younger oldies to shed light on what’s to come?

I think uniforms would be tacky, but perhaps a copper and gold bracelet would be in order – to commemorate elite level life skills as well as an amulet against arthritis. We might launch a social media presence dedicated to graceful maturation (“The Age Spot”?) and how-to publications designed to help our younger oldies (e.g., Pruning, and Other Laxative Strategies; Raising Cane – And Lowering Cane, etc.). Don’t forget our bumper sticker: Who’s Your Granddaddy?

It’s great to have a little fun with the idea, but in all sincerity, nona’s would make wonderful mentors. The discourse and recognition allow the appropriate respect that the elderly deserve for navigating the Scylla and Charybdis of life’s waters, while at the same time providing some comfort to younger seniors: that while much has diminished, much also remains.

N.B.: Since the artificial intelligence app, Chat GPT has been the focus of a lot of articles and commentary, we decided to try it out. Hen has added a rejoinder of his own, but also one from Chat GPT. Here’s a poem written by Chat:

On Achieving Ninety – A Poem by Chat GPT

Ninety years of life, a journey long and bright,

A tapestry of memories, woven with delight,

Each thread a story, each color a hue,

A masterpiece of moments, shared with me and you.

Through times of joy and times of sorrow,

You’ve faced them all, without a hint of tomorrow,

With grace and dignity, you’ve navigated life,

A shining example, of how to live it right.

Ninety years of laughter, love, and light,

A treasure trove of wisdom, shining so bright,

Each day a new adventure, waiting to unfold,

With every step you take, a story to be told.

As we celebrate this milestone, let us raise a cheer,

For all the joys and blessings that you’ve brought us near,

Ninety years of life, a true testament of time,

A legacy of love, that forever will shine.

On the Birth of Age Rangers

Wal temps us with a futuristic venue for evolving seniors to receive beneficial guidance from thoughtful and experienced elders. After all, he argues, we provide coaching, training, and “how to” instruction from childhood through adulthood; why stop at the geriatric stage? I agree!

While living in the nuclear family, we are given direction and ideas about what to expect as we age, from parents, scout leaders, and teachers. Most of them, however, haven’t yet experienced their senior years. And, by the time they do, we are old enough to move away and are on our own: often guiding others younger than ourselves. Our “life-learning” training is cut short and becomes incomplete as we leave the role of student learning from those who came before us to that of teaching those who follow. Perhaps, this would not be the case if we remained living in community with our families and were exposed to the day-to-day stories, experiences, and behaviors of our elders as well as our parents and children. However, in most of the cases I’m familiar with, this is no longer the case. So, we aging citizens fumble forward, making our way as best we can with limited resources, fading memories of the experiences of our grandparents, and whatever advice finds its way to our anxious questions about what to expect next.

But wait! Here comes Wal to our rescue! The Age Rangers, masked or unmasked, ride into our lives with knowledge and wisdom gained from experiences we’ve yet to encounter. Surely, the physical issues, conditions, and limitations to follow, can be explained from their first hand dealings. Helpful! But there’s more. What if, they could guide us toward a shift in how we think about aging? What if those who used the time they found in their latter years to understand how to let go of those things that cause us unnecessary anxiety, pain, and suffering, could share these learnings with us. What if they could guide us toward a more gentle and freer life in our golden years? What wouldn’t we give for signing up for that course? Can you imagine the energy as we sit together listening to our elders once again, sifting through our experiences, asking and answering the questions we were never asked, we never asked, or never made time to consider?

Sign me up!

“It’s been true in my life that when I’ve needed a mentor, the right person shows up.”

– Ken Blanchard

Guest Rejoinder

From Hen: The following was written by a newly tested artificial intelligence, Chat GPT with only a few guiding words from me on “Age Rangers.” It was written in less than a minute with no further input after my first few prompts. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

In a world that often prizes youth and beauty over wisdom and experience, it’s easy to forget that there is much to be gained from the insights of our elders. That’s where Age Rangers come in. This organization of wise elders serves as mentors and coaches to younger senior citizens, providing guidance and support as they navigate the challenges and opportunities of aging.

The Age Rangers are a diverse group of individuals, all over the age of 75, who have lived rich and varied lives. They come from different backgrounds and walks of life, but they share a common passion for helping others. They are trained to offer guidance and advice on everything from health and wellness to financial planning and retirement.

For younger seniors who may be struggling with the realities of aging, the Age Rangers can be an invaluable resource. They offer a sympathetic ear, a wealth of knowledge, and a deep understanding of what it’s like to grow old. They provide a safe space for younger seniors to talk about their fears and concerns, and offer practical advice on how to address the challenges of aging.

The Age Rangers also serve as role models for younger seniors, demonstrating that growing old doesn’t mean giving up on life. They are living proof that it’s possible to age with grace and dignity, and that there is much to be gained from a life well-lived.

But the benefits of the Age Rangers program extend beyond the individual seniors who participate. By bringing together younger and older seniors, the program helps to build stronger, more connected communities. It fosters a sense of intergenerational respect and understanding, and helps to bridge the gap between different age groups.

In a world that often seems focused on the next big thing, the Age Rangers remind us of the value of experience and wisdom. They offer a reminder that growing old is a journey worth taking, and that there is much to be gained from the guidance and support of our elders. For younger seniors looking for a way to navigate the challenges of aging, the Age Rangers are a valuable resource, and a shining example of what it means to age with dignity and grace.

“Age Rangers pave the path and light the way for the newly emerging senior citizens, showing them that age is not a limit but a badge of honor, and that with experience comes wisdom and the power to live life to the fullest.”

– ChatGBT

The Lone Age Ranger

I love Wally’s idea of Age Rangers! Boy, could I use a few of them now. I imagine the requirement for membership into the club consists of blood pressure above a certain number, several joints disfigured from arthritis, late night reflux requiring antacids in the night table drawer and several post-midnight excursions to the lavatory nightly. What I wouldn’t give to have a personal sponsor in this club to talk to about what to expect. Everything was fine ‘til I turned 70! I was feeling good and active and hadn’t experienced any of the symptoms that come with elderhood. I was feeling lonely because with the passing of my brother several years before I had become the sole elder of the family which had shrunk over the years from a large Italian family with siblings, parents, cousins, aunts and uncles and even a grandparent or two. Everyone who I depended on for advice, encouragement and empathy had passed and that big family had shrunk to me and my two children. Nobody had my back. There was nobody I could consult when my kids came to me with their problems, so I had to wing everything and pray that somehow I had absorbed enough knowledge and life experience to advise them with an assurance I never really felt.

Along with age is supposed to come wisdom and patience. Unfortunately, confidence doesn’t seem to tag along and with no one to consult on a personal basis, misguided advice and poor judgment can seep into the psyche and lead you on the wrong path to problem resolution for yourself and those depending on you. As my 70’s progressed I began to experience symptoms that come with advanced age. The first experience I had that took me to the ER was two clogged arteries and as I was being rushed up via ambulance to the heart center in Albany. I just kept imagining that I was on an adventure and tried to think of it as an experience over which I had no control and I would observe it from afar. They installed 2 stents to allow the blood to flow again and less than 8 hours later I was back home and trying to adjust. 2 months later my dog alerted me to a problem with my neck that I mentioned to my cardiologist who then did an ultra sound of my carotid artery to discover a 99% blockage. The next week I was on to my next adventure. They scraped my carotid artery clean, a procedure you are awake for the entire time and once again I imagined myself on another adventure and that actually worked well for me for those two procedures. Hopefully my adventure days are over for a long time! But with no one to commiserate with about what happened I just clung to my adventure fantasy and slowly recuperated from both procedures!

The interesting thing though about Age Rangers is I should have taken advantage of my 3 elderly aunts and my brother to ask a million questions about what their lives were like, and general information about our family history and what life was like in the old country. I feel like I missed out on a piece of my history that I never thought to research until it was too late. I kind of feel like the Lone Age Ranger now because no one is recruiting me to pledge this important society. But that also is a part of my personal history- always a day late and a penny short! I will have to continue to stumble alone through these incredibly lonely years. I believe that is why dogs were invented!

Featured

No Laughing Matter

No Laughing Matter

Not too long ago, we three old guys playfully started to imagine a restaurant that only catered to old people – old people like us, but perhaps more elderly – perhaps more like what the future holds in store for us. Well, we got to laughing about all the absurd possibilities and every comment elicited more laughs and excitement to press on with even more outrageous suggestions. We were on a roll! We even named our restaurant the Waiting Room, stacking up a rapidly escalating list of clever ideas.

A week or so later, Hen suggested that we revisit the concept of the Waiting Room, since we had such a good time brainstorming the idea. But – we couldn’t! The jokes just wouldn’t come and somehow didn’t seem so funny, anymore. We were all disappointed. Has this ever happened to you?

The inability to call back the humor of the moment really stuck in my craw, so I decided to do a little research on why things like this happen. I know, I know — it is a probable mistake to delve too deeply into a humorous situation. E.B. White once said: “Analyzing humor is like dissecting a frog. Few people are interested, and the frog dies of it”. Nevertheless, I pushed forward.

E.B. White was right!

My first step was to read a book on Enjoyment of Laughter, written in the 1930’s. After all, humor is timeless – right? This book described all kinds of jokes and humorous situations and explained why they were funny. Not one instance in this book made me laugh. In fact, it was generally cringeworthy – the humor just did not translate to the present. In itself, that produced one conclusion: context is everything! That old rejoinder, ‘You had to be there’ is right on target.

Switching focus to current research, I learned the following:

There are two kinds of laughter: Duchenne and non-Duchenne. Duchenne laughter is spontaneous and developed from forms of primate play. Non-Duchenne laughter is calculated behavior used to navigate social interactions. These forms of laughter actually invoke different neural pathways (Duchenne- brainstem; non-Duchenne- frontal lobe).
Laughter is important in social bonding. Humor ‘tokens’ act as invitations to further bonding. Humor may spring from impropriety and follows an arc of making a semi-outrageous statement which tests norms, to acceptance (or non-acceptance) by the listener and then to affiliation between the participants.
Humor = Tragedy + Emotional Distance. Maybe we three old guys were just whistling past the graveyard when we envisioned our Waiting Room restaurant?
Humor which builds upon each succeeding punchline is called an escalating joke. When done in a group, it is called co-constructive humor. People are 30 times more likely to laugh in a group, than when alone. Laughter is invoked more easily when participants can see or hear each other… even on Zoom.
Laughter releases endorphins (peptides) which target the opioid receptors in the brain. The more opioid receptors, the greater the amount of social laughter. The consequence is the ‘feel good’ areas of the brain are triggered. This is beneficial for health and has some benefits associated with exercise.
People are starting laughter meet-up groups to take advantage of the positive effects of laughing. They meet and laugh. No kidding…

While all these data points were rattling around in my head, I was drawn back to the Thanksgiving table by the laughter of my family. They were involved in their own restaurant gag and laughing up a storm. It seems that the group was riffing on what they would do with a ‘horror-themed’ eatery. They named their restaurant ‘Stake-n-stein’ with ‘stein’ pronounced as ‘shteen’ in homage to Gene Wilder in the Young Frankenstein movie. Looking at them, I came to another conclusion: spontaneity beats reconstruction!

Rock on, I say! Free the endorphins and save the frogs!

Laugh    F. W. Sanderson

'Tis by the heart the secret's told,
'Tis by the smile we're young or old,
'Tis as the life its joy shall hold,
It is the laugh reveals the soul.
------

Deep Laughter

It isn’t often enough that I remember laughing so hard that my cheeks ache and tears come to my eyes. You know, the deep down, automatic, self-generating kind of laugh that builds to a point where you can’t control it no matter how hard you try. Wal, reminds us of one of those times when not only was I unable to stop laughing but I was on a free roll, feeding more ludicrous lines of humor that build on those from Wal and George – that co-constructive humor Wal mentioned in his piece. I love being in that moment when my body and mind react together pumping out whatever electro-chemical reactions that make one feel good, happy, alive, joyful, and so absorbed in the moment that I don’t want it to end.

Hence, during one of our following weekly Zoom sessions, I asked if we could attempt to recreate the experience by recalling the specifics. One reason was that in the moment of its creation, it felt so clever that I wondered if the idea, which I thought was a brilliant design concept, had a chance at reality. That is, if we organized it into a proposal, with a detailed layout of how each area of the restaurant would look and replicated the menu we brainstormed, it might actually have a chance of catching someone’s attention: someone who might want to put it into a working model. The other purpose of my request was to simply relive the experience of this highly creative and deep laughter. The idea of revisiting that positive and upbeat place was enormously seductive. But, as Wal already wrote, we couldn’t replicate it. The door had closed, and we could barely remember the descriptors we used that triggered such a lasting experience.

Perhaps something so intricate and complex as what each of us brought to the conversation on that particular day during that specific time connected to each of our unique experiences, needs, and emotional states of being, could never be recreated and we will have to live with the idea that it was synchronous for only that moment.

I love to laugh. Sometimes, I fall prey to fits of convulsive laughter from an unintended behavior, usually mine. Such was the case about six years ago when Teresa and I were staying at a hotel in New Hampshire with Ellen and Mark, my sister and brother-in-law. The elevator door opened while we were all engaged in conversation so when I stepped in and the others didn’t, I decided to make believe an unseen occupant hiding in the front corner was yanking me in. I turned, placed my own arm around my neck and jerked backward hoping to disappear behind the section of elevator that was off to the left of the opening. When I lurched backward into what should have been empty space, I inadvertently hit the corner of the wall with my head and knocked myself down on the floor, stunned! As I looked up into the now horrified and silent faces of my family, I couldn’t help but crack a smile. The way Mark looked at me when he asked if I was having a seizure coupled with my total embarrassment escalated my smile to full blown laughter. It was one of those moments when everything was just right for it to spread and continue for the entire ride in the elevator and into our rooms. When one of us would think about the incident later at dinner, we would all laugh so hard some of us would have to leave the table. The next morning at breakfast, Mark told me he didn’t sleep much because Ellen woke up at 2:00 am hysterical after remembering it. And so, it continues to this day. Whenever I think about it, like now, I easily fall into the kind of laughter that makes my cheeks hurt and causes tears to pour from my eyes. Just now I had to stop and collect myself before I could continue.

For me, it’s the memory of all of us laughing, of seeing their faces at the moment of my insanity, and notion that after all of this time, the experience so easily triggers this automatic, compulsive, deep laughter. While I hope not to take any more blows to the head, I do hope I find more opportunities to laugh with reckless abandon.

“If you wish to glimpse inside a human soul and get to know the man, don’t bother analyzing his ways of being silent, of talking, of weeping, or seeing how much he is moved by noble ideas; you’ll get better results if you just watch him laugh. If he laughs well, he’s a good man…All I claim to know is that laughter is the most reliable gauge of human nature.” — Feodor Dostoyevsky

Sore Bay

Humor is a very personal thing. What I find humorous others may not. On that particular day, Henry, Wally and I just in the course of normal conversation about folks our age, hit a chord where all of us bought into the joke and ran with it. Wally and I had just been to lunch with another fraternity brother and were preparing for a reunion at the college. We were trying to come up with a contest and the winner of it would receive an old baseball-style cap as reward. We started with basic questions to ask that we could somehow score. One of the categories was how many “ists” do you see? Cardiologist, urologist, dermatologist, neurologist, endocrinologist……therapist, psychiatrist, ventriloquist, mixologist —well you get the point. And we were laughing out loud in this college hangout developing this list. The winner I think had something like 15 “ists” that he saw. We left lunch that day feeling really good cause we had shared this laughter and it did the body good. This is a different kind of laughter than when someone tells a joke. That is a short giggle to laugh, which ends relatively quickly and has little therapeutic value. The other thing I realized is that solitary laughter is short lived and kind of empty. I think the value of laughter lies in the sharing of the common experience that caused it. Once the sharing occurs, the laughter takes on a life of its own. I start to laugh and then when you respond with more laughter, it eggs me on more and louder transitioning from the giggle to the hearty laughter to downright guffawing which causes biological responses. A guffaw is usually accompanied by facial distortions, belly bends, hand motions to cover our mouths or hold our bellies. The verbal part of humor expression or laughter often leads us to choking or coughing as one tries to get a grip. But all of these body convulsions just add to the humor and allows it to continue far longer than necessary and long enough to draw attention from innocent passersby. The benefit of this sharing is a feeling of euphoria and good will toward all at least temporarily.

So, on that day Henry and Wally and I had this out of body experience we all needed. We began somehow talking about a restaurant for senior citizens where the menu was directed at ailments we have all experienced in our lives, or as Henry calls these discussions, organ recitals. We began by coming up with specific menu choices and the restaurant itself. Wally came up with the name “The Waiting Room.” As an aside, we have tried to remember the things that broke us up into hysterics that day, several times and they eluded us. But to give you an idea I did a sample menu of the restaurant:

The Waiting Room

-a senior dining experience- relaxing and curative cuisine, soft organ music in the background; blood pressure cuffs and oxygen at every table

The Whine List: Cham Pain and Prosicko always available intravenously

Main course:

Bed Panini
Fish n Hips
Heart-o-Tacos (idea stolen from WC)
and for that special elderly gentleman, Cease Hair Salad

Desserts- to top off the evening meal with an after-dinner drink of Creme Dementia and a large bowl of Sore Bay

Well, it was much funnier when it was spontaneous, and the humor of one of us built on the humor of the other two. It is one of those things you just can’t duplicate and when you try to tell others how funny it all was it falls flat. But on that day, at that time and place it was the best, belly grabbing, snorting, throw your head back and let go laugh I have had in a very long time and boy did I need that! I’ll have the Sore Bay please.