Never too Late!

Why I Write

2008-08-04T06:06:00.006-05:00

As anyone who reads either of my blogs knows, I love to write, and both blogs occasionally feature mentions of my three books. So is this about making money? Hardly. My books are self-published (POD) books, and that makes them immediately suspect in some circles. Anyone aware of the current state of publishing will understand.

Anyway, my books are hardly best-sellers, and my blogs are not well-known producers of advertising revenue. So why do I bother writing? I suppose it's partly because I am old and retired and have a lot of free time, but there are other reasons. First, I was overjoyed to discover the power and joy of writing, and I want to share my enthusiasm with my fellow seniors. I've made it my mission to encourage everyone to write his or her life story, not necessarily for the public, but for family and friends. Whatever your wealth or social status, you can leave a legacy of your valuable experiences and memories.

Then there's the matter of recognition. Since I have no children or grandchildren and few relatives, I sometimes feel disconnected from the world. I suspect that's a common feeling for seniors, at least for those of us who live alone. It's easy to wonder whether anyone knows we're still alive.

Yesterday, my email contained a really encouraging acknowledgement that I had reached someone. My online friend, Lydia, of the Writerquake blog, (http://www.writerquake.blogspot.com/), wrote this, in part, about my first book, Reinventing Myself: Memoirs of a Retired Professor (Infinity 2006):

"[It's] an exciting travel adventure, a real love story, a condensed but highly interesting autobiography, the wisdom of a professor, a frank discussion of aging – especially concerning a woman alone – and a frank but vulnerable glance from a breast cancer survivor. [There are] picturesque descriptions of condos and classrooms, a neighborhood bar and long thoughtful walks, quirky cats and the value of poetry and writing, tours on every continent, and the expectations for a final residence, where, any careful reader would assume, a framed needlepoint picture of Anne Hathaway’s Cottage will make its home."

At the risk of sounding egotistical, I'll say, "What a wonderful, well-written summary!" Thanks, Lydia. It's great to be recognized and appreciated. I guess it's the hope of receiving such feedback (or any at all) that keeps me writing. Let me hear from more of you.

To see Lydia's complete message, go to http://seniormemoirs.blogspot.com/2008/08/gracious-words-of-praise-for-one-of-my.html.

The Tyranny of "Stuff"

2008-08-01T08:48:00.005-05:00

I attended another Lifestyle Event for my future residence, The Clare at Water Tower, yesterday. The purpose of the meeting was to present information on temporary housing choices in case our current houses or condos sell before The Clare is finished.

Considering the current real estate market, I doubt that I'll have that problem, but I learned a lot, just in case. My preference would be a short stay in a luxury full-service hotel, but I couldn't afford that, especially with storage fees for my worldly goods.

Anyway, listeners' questions quickly segued to matters of storage at The Clare. The mention of storage bins measuring only 3 x 3 x 5 feet brought dismay and complaints. As I listened, I began to think about "stuff" in general. Why were people so upset? Surely highrise residents won't be storing lawn equipment or major power tools or auto parts. A few pieces of luggage will surely fit into that small bin. Everything else I need should fit into my apartment's small closets.

I suppose prosperous owners of large suburban houses face big downsizing challenges, but a fellow condo resident offered a more optimistic view similar to mine. Why worry? My question is, do we really need so much "stuff"? I admit I hired organizers to unclutter my closets and kitchen cabinets, and I've not missed a single item that went to charity or to the trash bin.

Perhaps one of the challenges of aging that many of my future neighbors haven't yet faced is the need to simplify life, to concentrate on what's really important. Does anyone need 100 pairs of shoes or twenty evening gowns? With the possible exceptioon of film stars and TV personalities, I doubt that anyone, especially anyone over 55, does.

There comes a time when comfort and convenience trump style and pride of ownership. I've reached that time; apparently some of my peers have not. I suppose it's none of my business, but I'd advise those complaining about lack of storage to prioritize, downsize, and relax. You'll never regret resisting the tyranny of "stuff."

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

Blog News and Statistics

2008-07-29T05:35:00.004-05:00

One bit of interesting news and a few statistics:

1. A second favorable review of my little poetry book, Elder Expectations: My Life in Rictameters just appeared on Pat's Place blog. To read it, go to http://atpatsplace.blogspot.com/2008/07/interesting-book.html.

2. Sometime yesterday, the total number of hits or page views for "Never too Late!" passed 25,000. Since that covers the period beginning September 26, 2006, it's certainly no record. However, that seems like a lot to me for a non-commercial blog. It's gratifying to think about so many people encountering my blog. It gladdens this senior's heart. I guess I find joy in simply things, surely a good trait at my age. As I've said before, blogging is fun!

Literary Impressions of Aging: A Book Review

2008-07-28T14:30:00.006-05:00

To delve into The Art of Growing Older: Writers on Living and Aging, by Wayne Booth (U. of Chicago Press 1992) is to discover, or rediscover, that the world’s literary greats have had a lot to say through the centuries on the topic of aging. This book, which I recently discovered, is a journey through the literary world by respected University of Chicago literature scholar Wayne Booth (1921-2005), author of The Rhetoric of Fiction and many other books.

From Sophocles to Euripides to Milton to Wordsworth, Byron, Browning, T.S. Eliot, and far beyond, writers have dealt, as we all do, with the challenges of aging and/or the contemplation of it. Toward the end of his introduction, Wayne Booth quotes Cicero, who wrote this in his early sixties: “For me, writing this book has been so delightful that it has not only erased all the petty annoyances of old age but has also made old age soft and pleasant.” As he wrote this book, Wayne Booth added, “At seventy one, which doesn’t feel at all to me like old age, I can say the same to you: Join me, friends, in this distinctively modern adventure, the almost certain journey into old age.”

Beautifully tied together by Booth’s incisive commentary, the poems and prose excerpts in this book are divided into an introduction, “Feeling Older,” and three parts: “Facing the Facts: Losses, Fears, and Lamentations,” “Cures, Consolations, Celebrations,” and “A Further Harvest.” I find it interesting that the “Cures, Consolations, Celebrations” section is by far the longest, indicating Booth’s own positive view of aging. I hope that’s a universal trend.

W. B. Yeats, in “Sailing to Byzantium,” laments in the first stanza, “That is no country for old men. The young / In one another’s arms, birds in the trees / . . . Caught in that sensual music all neglect / Monuments of unageing intellect.” However, he finds solace in his hope to escape, in artistic, non-human form, to a golden bough from which to sing of “What is past, or passing, or to come.”

Lighter and more humorous views of aging are included as well. In “Life Begins at 80,” Frank C. Laubach wrote, “If you survive until you are 80, everybody is surprised that you are still alive. They treat you with respect just for having lived so long. Actually they seem surprised that you can walk and talk sensibly. So please, folks, try to make it to 80. If you ask me, life begins at 80.”

I like that fact that Booth democratically includes some less-than-famous writers: Minnie Hodapp, at the age of 92, wrote in “I Haven’t Lost My Marbles Yet!” “I sometimes feel a bit bereft / Of youthful eyes and ears-- / But when I think of all that’s left / My trouble disappears. / So life goes on without upset / ‘Cause I ain’t lost no marbles yet.” Great poetry? No, but I like Hodapp’s spirit.

With an index and pages of notes and sources, this is a scholarly book, but its appeal should extend beyond literature majors. As Booth says, “You can make a good start on a reading program that can well last for the rest of your life by consulting first the books I praise as I go along and then the booklists provided by the ten works I list following the endnotes. . . . Spend a year on those lists, and first thing you know you’ll have become an expert and people will begin calling you a gerontologist.” However, if you’re just looking for inspiration and interesting quotes about growing older, this book is the ultimate source.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

Reminders From a Distant Past

2008-07-25T13:00:00.003-05:00

This is a cocktail napkin from the Old Town Pump, arguably the first "singles bar" in Chicago (it opened before the famous Butch McGuire's). It was located in Chicago's Old Town, not far from where I live now, from the late 1950's through most of the 1960's. It was sometimes known as a post-college "rah-rah" bar, where the boys often wore plaid bermuda shorts and the girls, beehive hairdos.

My late husband Jules was a co-owner, bartender, and guiding spirit behind this place; running it was a highlight of his life. It was a part of his life that he talked about until the end. He made many lasting friendships there, and so did I.

I met him there in 1964 (no, I wasn't much of a drinker or bar person, but the Pump was like a social club). We didn't marry until 1970, when the Pump was only a fond recent memory.

During the past two weeks, I have been reminded of the Old Town Pump by two things: a dinner with four old friends from those days (old as in both age and time, although I am a bit older than the others) and an encounter with the Old Town Pump slides, the pictures I took there of parties, Old Town Art Fair celebrations, and other days and nights of revelry. Taking pictures was my way of feeling useful, since a full evening of drinking beer was far beyond my capacity.

The dinner (the same group, with a few variations, has met occasionally in the last few years) was a nostalgic occasion. I believe that four of the five of us met our husbands at the Old Town Pump; one never married. Of the rest, only one has a living husband. Three of us are widowed. Two have grown children; those two also have grandchildren. All but one of us are retired from a variety of careers. All but one of us seems to walk with difficulty; we're all a bit overweight. We are all reminders of the passage of time.

The dinner conversation was punctuated by "Do you remember such-and-such an event or person? Do you remember when (so-and-so) did . . . ?" That brought up memories of the OTP slides, which were frequently shown during events at the Pump. While slides were the medium of choice then, I long ago switched to color snapshots, and finally, to digital photography. The old slides sat in my closet and gathered dust.

Fate intervened in the person of a lovely young woman, the daughter of another, somewhat younger Old Town Pump couple. She found me on line through my books and my blogs, and emailed me to ask about OTP memorabilia for her parents' wedding anniversary--the 40th, I think. Lisa came over to look at the slides, and I gave them to her. She had them copied onto a DVD, with music. Relieved by her help in clearing out my messy closet, I forgot all about the slides until that dinner with the "old guard."

I found Lisa's email address and asked for copies for myself and the others. She graciously agreed to bring over copies, and we watched the presentatioon together. There were the years 1966-68, when I was in my thirties and reasonably attractive--except for one picture of me with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth! I hardly ever smoked. I must have been a bit crazy then. There were pictures of people I haven't seen since the sixties, many of them now deceased.

There, of course, was my late husband, young, handsome, and smiling. In a way, the slides were reminders of the passing of time and of my aging. However, I was able to chuckle at the way we acted and dressed then. It was a different world, one I'm glad I experienced. I'm much different now, and I'm glad that I'm still around to see this DVD. I await my friends' reactions, and I've been told that this DVD may be posted on You Tube. If it is, I'll post a link here. We all need to explore where we've been. Doing so makes it easier to deal with an uncertain future.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

Confessions of a Reformed Slob

2008-07-21T12:19:00.006-05:00

I've never been a fanatic about keeping a clean house, but once I could afford to hire cleaning help, the problem pretty much disappeared. At least I developed temporary storage places for the books, magazines, and papers that tended to be lying around, and I put them away on cleaning days. I always made the bed each day; I guess I did it to impress my husband and anyone else who happened to wander in. The dirty dishes were always put into the dishwasher.

Fast forward to the period from 2001 to the present: after my husband's death, I sold the house and moved into the condo where I now live. I still have a cleaning woman, but I live alone and have had few visitors over the years. During that time, I seemed to become a slob. I mentioned my messy closets earlier. I seldom made my bed; after all, only I sleep there, and no one else sees it. It's hidden off in the "master suite": out of sight, out of mind.

The few dishes I use tended to pile up around the sink. Putting them in the dishwasher would take only a few seconds, but why bother? No one else would enter my kitchen for weeks on end. Meanwhile, my closets and kitchen cabinets became overstuffed with things I didn't even remember. What a mess! Magazines and books were piled to precarious heights everywhere.

So what bought reform? The necessity of putting my condo on the market before my expected end-of-year move into The Clare at Watertower. No real estate agent would think of showing a place unless the closets and cabinets are worthy of viewing, and big stacks of anything are out. After becoming upset and feeling helpless, I hired an organizing company, and everything looks much better. These days, I usually make the bed, and the dishes go into the dishwasher at least once a day. When the agent requests a showing, the place is ready!

Today, beautiful professional photographs of all the rooms are featured on the real estate agent's web site, and a tiny picture of my living room appeared in their print ad yesterday. Everything looks so good that I'm happy to live here; I will be reluctant to leave.

So what's the message? If you happen to live alone, imagine strangers walking through your place frequently. For me, that has been the key to reform. Now, did I make my bed this morning? I'd better take a look! Old habits die hard.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne
Photo of my living room from Rubloff Real Estate site by VHT Image Works.

A New Review of "Elder Expectations: My Life in Rictameters" is just out. Find it here:

2008-07-15T09:58:00.002-05:00

http://www.storycirclebookreviews.org/reviews/expectations.shtml

The Ladies Quintet: A Theater Review

2008-07-14T06:24:00.009-05:00

I have never aspired to be a drama critic, but when playwright Kathryn G. McCarty discovered my blog and sent me a press release for the California Galatean Players Ensemble Theater's appearance in Chicago at the Raven Theater, 6157 N. Clark Street, I was honored. It's always nice to be noticed. I posted the press release for The Ladies Quintet, and yesterday I saw the matinee performance.

I was especially impressed by two things: the skill of the five mature actresses and the five monologues' presentations of many truths about aging.

The presentation includes "The Garden Club," with Carolyn Kraetsch as Rose (pictured above); "Star Polisher," with Helen Means as Tessa, "Noel," featuring Sonja Christopher as Peggy, "American Sketch," featuring the playwright Kathryn G. McCarty as Lucina, and "Real Possible," with Sheilah Morrison as Pam.

Only McCarty fails to qualify as a senior citizen, but she credits her understanding of elders to listening to the stories of older friends, mostly when she lived in Chicago. In a 2006 article in Backstage West, she also credits her fellow actresses: "My relationship with these women has shown me that life takes us in many directions, but it's never too late to pursue your dreams." She seems to have realized at an earlier stage than I did that it is, indeed, never too late.

Perhaps the most impressive actress in the group is Sonja Christopher. Her biography shows that she is a cancer survivor and also the first participant ever voted off CBS's original Survivor show. I was impressed by her mature beauty, her acting skill, and her ukelele playing, used to help her character deal with the task of sorting through the belongings of a recently-deceased friend. She makes a shocking discovery among the friend's old letters, but snaps back with a modest scheme of revenge.

Rose presides over a garden club of which she is the last surviving member; she talks to the departed members. Tessa considers her star-struck past as she polishes the Hollywood star of Joanne Woodward. Lucina, a painter, talks to a granddaughter about racial and family relationships, as she attempts to sketch her portrait. Pam talks to her deceased husband as she prepares for a date. She is full of uncertainty about makeup, wardrobe, and the wisdom of dating at her age, but she ultimately decides to go for it. All the actresses perform admirably.

This is a show well worth seeing by senior women, especially, and also by senior men and people concerned about the elderly and/or close to joining their ranks. It will make you understand and sometimes laugh at the realities of the various losses we all face.

The Raven Theater is small and lacking in the big Loop theaters' amenities, but it is reasonably appropriate and comfortable for this small show. Performances continue next weekend. See my original post at http://seniorwriter.blogspot.com/2008/06/ladies-quintet-its-never-too-late-for.html for links to more information.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

What's a "Director of Life Enrichment"?

2008-07-12T08:00:00.003-05:00

This week, I've had a couple of email communications from the Clare at Water Tower, my future residence. They came from a seemingly nice young woman (I haven't met her in person yet) who identified herself as the Clare's "Director of Life Enrichment."

I guess I still bristle at the ideas that my life needs enrichment, and/or that I need a younger person's help, but perhaps I do, or at least will in the future.

Anyway, being somewhat a student of new and unfamiliar job titles (at least new to me), I decided to do a Google search for "Life Enrichment." I was surprised by how many references I found; I did not read them all, but here are a few things I learned:

There's a Center for Life Enrichment in Maryland that offers "support services that will increase the vocational and personal potential of individuals with disabilities," including job coaching, work opportunities, socialization, flexible help schedules, and transportation. This made me wonder if we elders are considered "people with disabilities" (some elders obviously are, but is getting old itself a disability?)

Further reading revealed that the majority of references on this topic did seem to involve seniors. In North Carolina, the Life Enrichment Adult Day Care / Health Center for seniors offers safety, health care, therapies, personal care, and meaningful activies for those who attend.

Georgia has Life Enrichment Services, including life-long learning, independence, dignity, diversity, change, and fun.

Several services involve computer training for seniors: good! However, Life Enrichment Services of Wheaton, Illinois, also offers "Treatment for Recovery from Computer / Internet Addiction." I hope that's not what I need!

I am willing to give the new Director of Life Enrichment a chance, but I think that real life enrichment must involve making use of the varied talents of the several hundred future residents of the Clare. By sharing our interests and our passions, we can help each other examine what it means to be old. And for now, we can do it mainly through Internet communication. I want to try to help.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

Another Press Release: "Elder Expectations"

2008-07-09T06:33:00.008-05:00

To see the new press release for my poetry book, Elder Expectations: My Life in Rictameters, go to my other blog, "Write Your Life!"

http://seniormemoirs.blogspot.com/2008/07/another-press-release-elder.html

Link to the release on PRweb:
http://www.prweb.com/releases/2008/07/prweb1077614.htm

Something Irritating You? See My Other Blog

2008-07-08T08:24:00.001-05:00

See "Write Your Life!" for an interesting excercise in complaining. http://seniormemoirs.blogspot.com/2008/07/what-bothers-you-write-about-it.html

Over 50? Take This Short Retirement Survey

2008-07-08T06:43:00.004-05:00

Ronni Bennett of "Time Goes By" is featuring a retirement survey. Clicking on the above badge does not work because the survey has three separate divisions for the "Currently Retired," "Not Retired," and "Retired, Then Returned to Work" categories.

The results of this unscientific survey may prove interesting, and it takes only a minute or two. Take it now, and return to "Time Goes By" the week of July 21 to see the results. I may summarize them here.

Here is the link: http://www.timegoesby.net/weblog/2008/07/announcement--1.html

Finding Elderblogs: An Update

2008-07-07T06:42:00.002-05:00

Since the demise of the Elders Tribune and its News Aggregator, the best and most comprehensive list of elderblogs I have found appears on Ronni Bennett's "Time Goes By" (http://www.timegoesby.net). She has just updated her sidebar list to include a total of 302 blogs! She limits the list to one blog per blogger, too, so my own "Write Your Life!" is not included. This one is.

Ronni excludes hard-to-read blogs featuring white or light text on black or dark backgrounds, since those are hard to read, especially for older eyes. She also excludes those without fairly regular postings. However, the variety of topics and opinions is amazing.

Check out a few elderblogs from time to time, and bookmark your favorites or add them to your own blogroll. It's nice to know that so many of us seniors are here in the blogosphere.

An Elder Discovers a Passion for Writing--And a Will to Live

2008-07-06T12:25:00.009-05:00

I've written about Wayne before (see my other blog, "Write Your Life!," http://seniormemoirs.blogspot.com/2008/06/power-of-senior-writing-perhaps-ive.html ).

Yesterday, he sent me this poem, inspired by my rictameters. His poem is not technically a rictameter (it lacks the prescribed syllable count), but I think its nine lines provide a wonderful example of short, simple free-form poetry that conveys an elder's thoughts very effectively. What do you think?

ELDERVERSITY, by Wayne Winters (used by permission)

ELDERVERSTIY
IS A WORD THAT
BEST DECRIBES ME AND
MY PHYSICAL CONDITION
AS I APPROACH MY EIGHTY-SECOND
AND RELINQUISH MORE CONTROL
OF LIFE'S DESIRES, WANTS,
AND WISHES.
ELDERVERSITY.

This poem illustrates a previous statement of Wayne's about his discovery, or rediscovery, of writing after age 80: "I think I have started writing out of frustration and confusion. I am frustrated because I cannot do what I always did and I'm confused because I don't remember why. Writing of any kind seems to help put facts and figures in place, in order, while otherwise they are just bouncing around in my mostly dried-out gourd of a head. In some of us, God forgot to include the zerk fitting, and so we were never properly maintained."

(I had no idea what a "zerk fitting" is, so I looked it up. It seems that it's a fitting providing a way for grease to be forced into mechanical joints that need grease to prevent wear and make movement easy. What an appropriate image for some of the problems of aging!)

Today, Wayne wrote me as part of his permission to reproduce his work, "I have started to think that I should stay longer and write more." That's great news from someone who had been depressed and ready to give up on living.

Thanks, Wayne, for helping me show that it's never too late to discover a passion, especially a passion for writing!

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

July 4 in Whitewater, Wisconsin, Revisited

2008-07-04T06:00:00.001-05:00

Since my Independence Day experiences from childhood seemed to be much the same from year to year, I'm taking the liberty of reprinting my blog post from one year ago. The photo, borrowed from the Whitewater Banner on line, is entitled "Clown Parade," and it's from the 2007 parade in Whitewater, Wisconsin, my old home town.

This year? As I did last year, I'll enjoy the festivals and fireworks of the weekend on TV, happy to avoid the crowds. Those days on Grandma's porch are long gone, but I hope such days still exist for small-town children today. I still remember the excitement!

Here's what I wrote a year ago:

Parade Memories and July 4th at Grandma's

My paternal grandmother lived in town, and that was exciting to me as a child. I grew up on a farm with visions of big-city skylines in my head; Whitewater, Wisconsin, did not qualify, but I considered it a step in the right direction.The excitement there was the 4th of July parade.

As I remember, it began on Main Street and turned down North Franklin street to the city park. Grandma lived on North Franklin Street.I remember the joy of swinging back and forth on Grandma's front porch glider and admiring the passing bands and floats and marchers, feeling patriotic, and always munching on some snacks that my plump body surely didn't need.

As I look back, I realize that it wasn't much of a parade by today's standards. The "floats" began as farm wagons, trucks, cars, and even children's wagons, and the bands sometimes played out of tune. Still, the parade spirit was there. I loved the flags and the excitement.

As I recall, I've participated in only three or four parades during my lifetime. In those days on Grandma's porch, I dreamed of parading as an honored celebrity or Grand Marshal, but of course it never happened. In Whitewater, I wore an ill-fitting purple band uniform, played my clarinet, and marched with our fledgling high school marching band once or twice. Ours was the smaller of the town's two high schools, and as I remember, the larger one had a bigger, better band. I once rode on a farm wagon-based float that proclaimed "Education Reflects the Spirit of Liberty" on the side and featured an old-fashioned mirrored "crystal ball," dance hall style, in the center.

At Luther College, I remember riding on a homecoming parade float in a fancy new yellow gown. It rained that day, and what I remember best is that the dress was ruined by run-off from the blue crepe paper decorating the float. My parents were in the crowd to observe this spectacle. I can't remember either the theme of the float or the sponsoring organization, but it may have been either the drama group or the literary society.

Today, I enjoy parades vicariously on TV. I admire the flowers and the beauty of the Rose Bowl Parade floats, the hype and variety of the New York Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, and the marching politicians, commercialism, and enthusiasm of Chicago's many big parades. Still, no parade quite provides the excitement of being "downtown" on Grandma's small-town front porch, swinging back and forth and eating. That experience was a generator of big dreams.

Copyright 2007 by Marlys Marshall Styne

Check Out The New Press Release for "Seniorwriting"

2008-07-02T06:48:00.004-05:00

A press release for Seniorwriting: A Brief Guide for Seniors Who Want to Write is just out. For a link to it, and my comments, see my other blog, "Write Your Life!"

http://seniormemoirs.blogspot.com/2008/07/just-released-press-release-for.html

A Positive Event at The Clare

2008-07-01T10:24:00.002-05:00

I had eagerly awaited the launch of The Clare's new web site for residents, Clarity. Yesterday it happened. I attended the advanced training session, and I liked what I saw.

The site is easy to use, and I was especially happy to see so many future residents there eager to communicate on line. I hope to find more readers for my blogs, but it seems that I don't quite know how to handle the necessary feed to allow Clarity users to click on my blogs. I'll have to work on that.

The only fault I've found in Clarity so far is that all photos posted have to be verified by a site administrator. Residents are encouraged to post photos, and I don't think there's much chance that this group will attempt to post porn or other objectionable material. I guess I like instant gratification. I'd like to see my pictures posted immediately, as I do on my own blogs. That's a minor quibble; I guess I can wait.

It may take a while for the other future residents to get their profiles up, but I hope that many more will. I look forward to learning about my future neighbors. I hope not too many are reluctant to share; after all, it's a site for Clare residents, not for the entire cyber world.

Anyway, I think it's a positive thing that my future senior residence, and apparently others, are encouraging this means of communication. I believe that seniors are quickly joining the computer-using crowd. It's a great way to share out thoughts, our questions, and our experiences.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

The Ladies Quintet: It's Never too Late for Actresses, Either

2008-06-30T06:36:00.005-05:00

It's unusual for me to promote a theater event, especially one I have't even seen yet. However, I'm impressed by the idea behind this series of monologues by actresses who are no longer young. For that reason, I'm posting a press release for a show due at Chicago's Raven Theater Complex, 6157 North Clark Street, July 10-20. This is a show I plan to see. If you're in the area, give it a try!

PRESS RELEASE:

Her car’s license plate reads: SRVIVR1.
But Sonja Christopher, the first contestant kicked off the popular CBS Reality Show Survivor, doesn't sport the plates because of her connection to the show.

The real meaning behind the handle comes from her bout with Breast Cancer over a decade ago. Like the other cast members of THE LADIES QUINTET, a "smart comedy" written by Kathryn G. McCarty, Christopher has been through a lot in her last 7 + decades – and she’s survived it all.

THE LADIES QUINTET, produced by San Francisco Bay Area’s Galatean Players Ensemble Theatre (GPET), plays July 10-20 on the West Stage of the Raven Theatre Complex. Shows are Thursdays, Fridays & Saturdays at 8:30 p.m. and Sundays at 3:30 p.m.

According to McCarty, THE LADIES QUINTET, is “a series of one-act monologues, designed for mature women. Essentially, they are intimate solo performances, by actresses who have been performing in Bay Area Theatre for “over 150 years!”

McCarty explains she only points out the number because “That’s a lot of history, many important lessons we’ve had the experience of enjoying!” McCarty, in her 40’s, is 3 decades younger than the other actresses, “And I still struggle to keep up with them.”

“We’re not broads you can hold down,” adds Helen Means, who founded the Onstage Theatre Company, in San Francisco's East Bay, 30 years ago. Like Christopher, Means had her own life-or-death battle, with lung cancer. Now, some 40 years later, she maintains “the faith it took to get through that stage of my life helped get me right where I am now.” Means has been honored with several awards for her commitment to theatre in the Bay Area, and is known for her jovial disposition and sense of humor.

Means, who traveled to Hollywood two years ago with THE LADIES QUINTET, explains the play’s subject matters are relevant to people of all ages. “Let’s face it, dating is no easier at 20 than at 75,” she pauses, “except you know you’ll get through it alive.”

In her early 20’s, Means studied acting in LA, but cut her career short - just after being asked to join Lucille Ball’s production company – when she and her husband discovered they were expecting their first child. “Two daughters and 5 grandkids later and I’m blessed to still be acting!”

Means was introduced to McCarty 15 years ago when McCarty was producing “The Marriage Encounter” by then unknown Craig Brewer, who went on to write “Hustle and Flow” and “Black Snake Moan.” Since that point she has fostered the playwright, and Means interjects: “Actually I adopted her.”

The Bay Area theatre matriarch says she’s watched McCarty’s progress through last August’s publication of her first book and productions of almost 20 plays in the last decade.“The Bay Area has been good to me,” says McCarty, who grew up in Benton, IL and attended Southern IL University. Benton boasts many hometown alumni, including actor John Malkovich and Doug Collins, former Chicago Bulls coach and McCarty's cousin. "Chicago was the place everyone wanted to go," McCarty says, adding that after college her apartment became a "revolving door" for young people moving to the Windy City.

In the early 80’s she lived for several years in Chicago and worked for several prominent theatres and film casting directors, before falling in love with a man who lived outside San Franciso. While the relationship did not work out, McCarty discovered an entirely new path.
“Watching new plays develop is a passion of Bay Area audiences, and I’m thankful for having the chance to live and work in such a rich community – but there’s no place for theatre like Chicago, that's for sure."

Actresses Sheilah Morrison and Carolyn Kraetsch traveled with Means to Los Angeles to perform QUINTET. “It’s a wonderful second career,” said Kraetsch, who graduated from Northwestern University in Evanston, then spent 22 years in an elementary school classroom before finding her “niche” performing. “All paths in your life lead to discovery,” said Kraetsch who was raised in Chicago, and met her husband Ralph while they were students at New Trier High School. “But - my father didn’t let me go out on a date until after I’d graduated high school,” laughs Kraetsch, who has lived in Walnut Creek, California for over 50 years and is eager to perform in Chicago. “Eight year olds have much stronger opinions than critics and audiences, so it was really good training!”

Kraetsch plays a character who is President by default of her Community Garden Club. “There’s so much diversity in QUINTET, and each performer is well-showcased,” she explains, admitting, however, that a 20 minute monologue can be rather “daunting.”

“The pieces stand alone as One Acts; together they create a beautiful picture of a variety of perspectives on a well-lived life,” said Morrison, who plays a widow preparing to go out on a date that might lead to sex. “I remember when my own mother began dating again, it was such a difficult time in her life.”

Morrison, a native Coney-Islander (Brooklyn), was surprised to find the Raven Theatre Complex is only blocks from the home she lived in from 1957 to 1964. “I’m sure the neighborhood’s changed some, and someone will have to point the way to the best Happy Hours and late night joints for dancing. And I can’t wait to hit the Blues bars!” Morrison is a very active lady, acting in film and commercial work, working out 3 days a week, tap dancing and performing “a mean Lucille Ball imitation” at area Festivals, churches and Retirement facilities.
“I’ve lived all over the country,” said Morrison, “and I love exploring new cultures and communities, meeting people. I come from a family that celebrates both Christmas and Hanukah,” she jokes. “We know there is much to be learned from every aspect of life.”

"I’ve survived being kicked off the island, breast cancer, a brain tumor, divorce and being a single mother,” quips Christopher, “The other actresses and myself, we’ve all experienced many joys and hardships in this life – and we are all prime examples of what faith can do to keep us going, moving forward with our lives and goals.” “And that sure as hell beats out all alternatives,” adds Means.

THE LADIES QUINTET runs July 10-20, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays at 8:30 p.m. and Sundays at 3:30 p.m. on the West Stage, at the Raven Theatre Complex, 6157 N Clark St. Tickets are available on the company’s website, GalateanPlayers.com, at tickets@galateanplayers.com or by calling (773) 272-5790. Tickets are $15-$20.

CALENDAR LISTING:

WHAT: The Ladies Quintet, by Kathryn G. McCarty

A smart comedy, this series of Intimate Solo Performances on Life in the 21st Century is performed by some of San Francisco Bay Area's First Ladies of Theatre.

Directed by Roberta Tibbetts & Scott Marden
Featuring: Sonja Christopher, Carolyn Kraetsch, Kathryn G. McCarty, Helen Means & Sheilah Morrison

WHEN: JULY 10-20, 2008, Thursdays, Fridays & Saturdays 8:30 p.m. Sundays 3:30 p.m.

WHERE: on the West Stage, at the RAVEN THEATRE COMPLEX, 6157 N Clark St Chicago, IL 60660

WEBSITE: GalateanPlayers.com

TICKETS (773) 272-5790 tickets@galateanplayers.com $15-$20

THE LADIES QUINTET has been performed throughout the San Francisco Bay Area and Los Angeles, where reviews have included the following:

Bay Area Critic Circle Member/Contra Costa Times writer Pat Craig: "Playwright Kathryn G. McCarty has taken a remarkable change in direction with her latest work.... a quintet of short, solo works that are as achingly introspective as they are engaging.....a gentle, heartfelt show that examines the unguarded and quite revealing thoughts of five different women at different stages of their lives..... They range from touchingly funny ....to the bittersweet poignancy.....There is considerable laughter in all of the pieces, but it comes in bursts, between bouts of sadness and bitterness and the other emotional condiments that season a well-lived life....."

Blogs, Rictameters, Haikus, Six-Word Memoirs, "Your Week in Three Words," You Tube, Books: The Power of Brevity

2008-06-28T11:31:00.006-05:00

Many “What’s the World Coming To?” grouches lament the materialistic rush of our world: no time to write, think, contemplate nature, enjoy life. They have a point. We often expect our news in short sound bites, our books (if we read at all) as quick, easy reads, our food fast. Of course there are many exceptions, but at least in large cities, the hustle and bustle seem to be increasing, while newspaper sales and reading—and attentions spans—are decreasing.

I am reminded of a passage from Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451:

As Captain Beatty explains the origins of the futuristic book-burning society, he says, “Classics cut to fit fifteen-minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two-minute book column, winding up at last as a ten- or twelve-line dictionary resume. . . . Speed up the film, Montag, quick. . . . Digest-digests, digest-digest-digests. Politics? One column, two sentences, a headline! Then, in midair, all vanishes. Whirl man’s mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary time-wasting thought!”

I prefer to look at the brighter side: I’m talking about the trend toward various brief writing and video forms. At best, they can inspire fledgling writers to go on to longer, better things.

Blogs:

Blogs (web logs or on-line journals) provide the ultimate democratic opportunity for self-expression, usually at no cost, to anyone with computer access. The subject matter can be informative, humorous, controversial, or mundane: anything from useful basic information to political diatribes to accounts of daily activities. Blogs can provide family communication or a way to reach the whole world with one’s thoughts and opinions. Good or bad, blog posts are usually quite short.

Rictameters:

The rictameter is a relatively new nine-line poetry form using syllable counts to maintain its meter. The lines do not rhyme. The syllable count is 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2, and the first and last lines are identical. There are a few variations of the form, too. An on-line search will reveal various examples and explanations. The Gather web site has a Rictameter group. I’ve published what may be the first poetry book to feature rictameters exclusively: Elder Expectations: My Life in Rictameters (Lulu 2008). You can also find many rictameters on my blog, “Write Your Life!” (http://www.seniormemoirs.blogspot.com/). Great art? No, but it’s fun.

Haikus:

The haiku, a Japanese form, has been called the shortest poetic form with the most rules. I have never fully understood it or had much success in writing it. There are many variations. Here again, do an on-line search for more information.

Six-Word Memoirs:

This idea appeared in a joint Smith Magazine/Twitter book called Not Quite What I was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure. It was mentioned on many web sites, and many people have tried writing their own. Mine reads, “Seventy-five, wrinkled, writing, still enjoying life!” See my blog post on the subject at http://seniormemoirs.blogspot.com/2008/02/one-of-those-ideas-i-wish-id-thought-of.html.

ABC Good Morning America Weekend’s “Your Week in Three Words”:

GMA Weekend solicits short videos from watchers of all ages, each featuring a sign or some other representation of three words that describe the week: “Wrote a Book,” “Better than Good,” and “Everything Has Beauty” are three recent, unexceptional ones. Some are more poignant: “Back from Iraq,” showing a wounded soldier surrounded by family. I’m sometimes amazed by the skill of the amateur videographers and the cleverness of the chosen words. This is often brevity at its best.

You Tube:

You Tube has something by and for everyone. Anyone with a video camera can post nearly anything he or she wants, and some videos are amazing and/or amusing. I have never tried to make a video; I prefer words, but the web site is certainly giving everyone a chance at self-expression, usually in brief form.

Books:

Finally, I and many others write relatively short books, and according to my reviewers, that’s not a bad thing. One reviewer of my book Seniorwriting: A Brief Guide for Seniors Who Want to Write wrote in the “Books on Aging” section of the September University website, “Seniorwriting is a non-technical guide to help you decide if you want to begin writing. It is a short, quick read, but full of sage advice predicated on a theme To Discover, To Heal, To Reinvent, and To Share. Ironically short books are much harder to write than long ones and Seniorwriting contains all the elements you need to begin writing.” Another reviewer for Story Circle Network wrote, "Seniorwriting: A Brief Guide for Seniors Who Want to Write lives up to the promise of its title. It is brief: 81 pages. I consider this a good thing. Too many books that purport to help others to write are unnecessarily wordy. This in itself can be discouraging. "

Incidentally, my book Reinventing Myself contains just 135 pages, and Elder Expectations just 56. Perhaps old age shortens the attention span, but I’ve always been a woman of few words.

It’s not my intention to defend the superficial, but it seems to me that there’s something to be said for brevity, especially if such forms encourage everyone to think and write. I am frequently amazed at how much can be said in very few words. As one reviewer says, short is not necessarily easier, but it may seem less daunting for a beginning writer to attempt a blog post or short poem than a full-length novel or autobiography. Brevity is generally not a bad thing in our complex, fast-moving world.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

Early Plans and Thoughts About Moving

2008-06-27T08:18:00.004-05:00

Yes, the Clare at Water Tower, my future home, is nearing completion, at least on the outside. Finishing the inside will take a while. It looks as though my moving date will be sometime near the end of this year, or early in 2009. It's been a long wait already.

I've not moved many times during my long life. I did sell my house and move to my present condo about seven years ago, but my coming move has an air of finality about it. Unlike many or most of my fellow seniors, I have no children or grandchildren to help me, and my few relatives, willing to help though they are, live far away. My friends are generally younger and still employed, and none live nearby.

I've promised to write from time to time about my journey to the Clare, a continuing care community where I'll move into a lovely new independent living apartment, so expect occasional posts about the process.

As a first step, I reached a state of panic. The real estate market is poor--not as bad in Chicago as in some other places, but certainly not good. The Clare management has warned us to allow a long time to sell, so the time to put my condo on the market has come. My condo is in a good location, and it is professionally decorated, has a garage space, a balcony, and a walk-in closet. Actually, I hate to leave, but my days of living in isolation must end soon. I eventually stirred myself to take some action.

I now have a real estate agent, an on-line listing with beautiful pictures, and not much hope--or need--for a quick sale. I'm just waiting to see what happens. That was the easy part.

As I began to consider all this, I realized that my place, while neat on the surface, contains tons of clutter in every closet, cabinet, and drawer. Somehow, I seemed unable to deal with this clutter in any efficient way, and I had to do so before the agent would agree to list my property. It seems that prospective buyers always look in the closets (and probably the cabinets).

That's when I learned about Mature Transitions by Design, a Chicago-area company that offers Planning Consultation, Barrier-Free Home Renovation, and Coordination for Relocation. The latter is obviously what I needed. I didn't know that such services existed; they are rather costly, but certainly worth considering. Two efficient women arrived and worked long and hard to get things in order. In consultation with me, they sorted out my "junk" and divided it into things to keep, things to throw away, and things to donate to charities.

A trained interior designer, the company's owner drew a floor plan of my Kensington unit at the Clare and worked out the placement for my furniture. Since I'm moving to a similar-size unit, most things will fit (although I need to replace a few things, and she'll help me with that later). Fortunately, I do not need much downsizing. Those moving from large homes may need help with that, too.

After two long afternoons of hard work, the two women from Mature Transitions (who, unlike me, can climb and stoop), made my closets and kitchen cabinets look spacious again. To me, it's like magic! They carted off several carloads of things, in addition to the many bags of trash they disposed of. I will probably use their services again for packing, unpacking, and generally getting things in order. I'm grateful for having found them!

Could I have done much of this myself? Probably when I was younger, but aside from my physical problems, I've found the thought of the whole process tends to turn my brain to mush and send me back to the comforts of reading and writing. I'm happy to know that help is available, and I'm feeling much better about my coming move right now. Stay tuned.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne

For information about The Clare: www.theclareatwatertower.com.
For my real estate listing: http://www.rubloff.com/property/2647864

Poetry Especially for Seniors? A Book Review

2008-06-21T10:54:00.005-05:00

When I first encountered Ed L. Dorsey’s book Real Poetry for Seniors ((Noble House, 2007), I wondered why seniors would need “special” poetry. Most of us are certainly alert and intelligent enough to read and appreciate poetry of all types on all subjects, although perhaps few of us do.

When I read the book, I discovered that Dorsey believes poetry needs meter and rhyme. I don’t necessarily agree, but I understand his point. In his short poem “Books Out of Balance” he writes, “Our books are out of balance at present time / and we’re much poorer than we might suppose; / Missing from all accounts are metre and rhyme / and the only measure left to poetry or prose, / Alas, is simply the length the line goes!” Elsewhere he says that poems lacking verse and rhyme “are like a song with the music gone, there’s just no place for the words to belong.”

My own poems (mainly rictameters) do not rhyme, but they have a regular syllable pattern and a shape. I’ve always preferred to write (not necessarily to read) poems that do not too closely resemble prose. A senior reader of one of my poems commented, “I thought poems had to rhyme.” So perhaps seniors relate better to poems with rhyme (and/or pattern) to find some sense of order in this rapidly-changing, often confusing world. It’s an idea worth thinking about: I believe that seniors should read poetry and feel confident enough to write some themselves. It’s a great way to express one’s thoughts and describe one’s life.

Real Poetry for Seniors should appeal to anyone dealing with aging or the aged. As a fellow senior, I found myself enjoying retired trial lawyer Dorsey’s many insights into common fears, his reflections on growing older, and his thoughts on the present state of society.

Dorsey has a wry sense of humor. In the first stanza of “Sausage and Eggs” he writes, “Some doctors say it’s cholesterol in foods we eat / that robs the heart and head of blood’s supply; / Others claim it’s caffeine in coffee or sugar in sweets, / or smoke or booze that causes us to die.” The poem ends with “Throughout this trek our doctor gladly bills us-- / when probably it’s just the living that actually kills us.”

Many aspects of life, especially senior life, appear among Dorsey’s poems: appreciation of nature (“That Soothes my Soul”), a transition to more realistic expectations (“I Wanted To Be”), “Growing Old,” a poem that begins “It’s the fear of growing old and small / that seniors make such fuss; / But it’s only when we stop growing at all / that old catches up with us.”

In one of his few longer poems, “To the People of Jerusalem,” Ed L. Dorsey dreams that God is speaking to all current residents of the city. “All who pray to Yahweh, Allah, or by name / Lord, Most High, The Creator or God, pray to Me the same!” God has some strong warnings for the warring factions: “How can your tongue say: I am the One True God, / that you put no other god or idol before Me, / When with your heart you covet the idols of war and revenge?” There’s more.

This is not “great” poetry, but I heartily recommend it to everyone, especially the senior who likes rhyming poems and personal insights from a voice of experience. In “True Poetry” Dorsey laughs at the kind of poetry that is “Written for only the intellectual / With a Princeton dictionary at their bed; / Appeal reserved for the highly sophisticated, / The ivy-clad, elegant, the well read, / Who claim to know that never meant nor said!” He asks that his readers “Hold high the saintly poet prized, / who writes for the common casual read, / And freely reveals to the lean learned head-- / the gist of what he really said.”

When you have a spare moment, pick up this book and read a poem or two. Rhyme or the lack thereof is not the main issue here. Real Poetry for Seniors is well worth reading.

Remembering My Father: Clifford W. Marshall, 1905-1974

2008-06-15T06:47:00.006-05:00

In my book Reinventing Myself, I described my father as an enigma. He seemed to live in my mother's shadow. Like me, he was quiet and reserved; like me, he apparently suffered from clinical depression for much of his life, or at least that's my unofficial diagnosis or my explanation for his being the way he was.

As I look back, I realize that Clifford William Marshall was a good man, forced to be a farmer during poor economic times while he dreamed of better things. He never "made his mark on the world" in any way that befitted his intelligence and his college degree (in an age when college degrees were rarer).

My father was easy to overlook or ignore, but I realize now that he was a good man who did his best to meet his responsibilites. If he was sometimes reclusive and unpleasant, he probably had reason to be. He was browbeaten by his mother, and to a lesser extent, by his wife, my mother. I don't blame her; she did what she had to do to cope with life.

My father, pictured on the left (above) in about 1933 with my mother and me, had red hair, which I always coveted. Later, he grew bald, and he put on weight because of his unhealthy eating habits: a daily pint of ice cream at bedtime will do that to you. He also developed heart disease and diabetes toward the end of his life, and suffered a major stroke. He died at age 70 when he suddenly fell from the motor scooter he was riding along a snowmobile trail in northern Wisconsin. I missed his funeral; my husband and I were in London at the time, and couldn't get back in time.

My father was a kind man. He befriended an alcoholic acquaintance and tried to help him in an ultimately futile struggle to remain sober. He never drank himself, but he smoked for many years in an age when the dangers of smoking were not as well known as they are today. He took me for a boat ride on a northern Wisconsin lake once; we didn't talk much, but I remember that he was amused at my adult fear of water, my inability to swim, and my insistence on wearing a life jacket.

What else can I say? Here are the last lines of my chapter about him in Reinventing Myself: "Maybe he was even proud of my brother and me. Maybe under his quiet demeanor and his lack of communication, he knew some secret joy. My brother pities him as a victim of a dominating wife and a domineering mother, but I see him now as a victim of clinical depression that was never diagnosed or treated. I wish I'd had a chance to know him better--but perhaps I wasn't paying enough attention."

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne
Photo from the family collection

More on Senior Blogging

2008-06-14T08:32:00.003-05:00

If you have access to the Wall Street Journal, either the on line or the print version, check out today's edition for an interesting article on blogging by Ronni Bennett of http://www.timegoesby.net/. It's called "Put it in Writing," and it's on page R12.

The Red Ball Project

2008-06-12T13:48:00.008-05:00

Imagine my surprise this morning when I arrived at my usual volunteer post at the Washington Street information desk in the Chicago Cultural Center to encounter a large red ball almost in the center of the lobby, just six or seven feet in front of my desk. My view of the lobby was effectively blocked, and of course I was curious.

I'm not talking about a small red ball here; it was fifteen feet in diameter, touching the mosaic ceiling arch above my desk. A surprising sight, indeed! Before I had time to read the material thoughtfully provided by the Cultural Center honchos, my imagination went crazy: a tomato? I was thinking of the current salmonella-tomato investigation. The Target logo gone mad? A soccer ball on steroids? At least it is my favorite color, red. I was impressed by the ball's size and the element of surprise involved in its location.

Once I settled down with my coffee and accepted the prospect of being virtually cut off from the lobby, I read the information. It seems that this is a work of art, not even a new one; it has appeared in various cities around the world. Perhaps if I'd kept up with the world of modern public art, I'd be familiar with it, but alas.

Here is what I found out:

The artist is Kurt Perschke. "Through the magnetic, playful, and charismatic nature of the RedBall the work is able to access the imagination embedded in all of us." The ball, apparently made of heavy canvas and inflated after transporting, was constructed by a U.S. inflatable kayak firm.

This one-day installation at the Cultural Center is a preview of a September event that will take the ball to about fifteen locations around Chicago. I assume that most of them will be out-of-doors, considering the ball's giant size.

As I assume the artist intended, the most interesting part of my red ball experience was noting the reactions of those who passed my desk (there was barely room for them to do so). It certainly got people's attention! How can you ignore something so large? There were a few puzzled expressions, but mainly smiles. "What is it?" was the major question. My answer was, "It's a work of art." I then referred them to a brief explanation posted nearby.

Reactions seemed to vary by age. Children were gleeful, touching, kicking, and leaning against the ball. Children love balls, perhaps the bigger, the better. The elderly sometimes wore bewildered "What's the world coming to?" expressions, sniffing "That's supposed to be art?" To one twenty-something, it was "Super cool!" One young man stooped down to assume an Atlas-holding-up-the world pose. Touching and leaning against the ball were popular for all ages--and permitted. The ball seems very sturdy.

At first I scoffed at the big red ball with the same attitude I assumed toward the wrecked vehicle installed as art outside the Museum of Contemporary Art a few years ago. But then I began to mellow. Yes, this certainly does stir the imagination. I'm not to old to appreciate and imagine. The ball is an attention getter, all right. There's nothing wrong with influencing people to smile, laugh, imagine, and ask questions.

Copyright 2008 by Marlys Marshall Styne
Photo of the ball in an unknown city, from the Internet

For further information, go to http://www.redballproject.com/.
See also my rictameter at http://seniormemoirs.blogspot.com/2008/06/r-rictameter-2-red-ball-musings.html

A Nostalgic Look Into My Past

2008-06-10T07:23:00.006-05:00

Imagine my surprise to discover a reference to a 1976 book, long out of print, that includes my late husband and me! In "The secret to turning two dozen bucks into half a dozen cool books" (Tempo section, June 9), Chicago Tribune reporter Patrick T. Reardon tells about spending $23.95 at last weekend's Printers Row Book Fair. It's a great place to find both the new and the old.

One of his choices caught my attention: City Families: Chicago and London, by photographer Roslyn Banish. The book features families from one London and one Chicago neighborhood, along with brief interviews. The Chicago neighborhood featured is Lincoln Park, and I got out my old copy of the book to take another look, especially at pages 166-167.

There we are: "Marlys and Julian Styne. Mrs. Styne: College English teacher. Mr. Styne: Federal marshal." We talk a bit about our family beginnings and our lives. Our confidence and optimism are remarkable as we fail to answer the author's request for three wishes. Here is our reply: "Mrs. Styne: I don't think I coud think of three things I want, except more of the good life we've had. Mr. Styne: I think we're at the point in life now where we have the rewards of our work. We don't have the things to worry about that young families have. Mrs. Styne: We feel now that we can do pretty much what we want to, within reason." Yes, I had the last word, as usual. There we are at ages 44 and 48, seemingly without a worry in the world.

Perhaps even more memorable are Banish's two photographs of us. The first shows us seated on our living room sofa (gold velvet, as I recall, although the photo is in black and white). On the coffee table in front of us are newspapers and magazines and a snack tray. I can't tell what we had been eating. The antique lamp is one I still have (actually, I had two of them then, but the china base of one of them has since shattered). The wall behind us holds four old pictures from my family and one painting I actually did myself (not a good one, I might add). The ancestral pictures hang in my condo now, although not in the living room. My painting has been relegated to a closet, where it belongs.

The second photo shows us seated on a Kawasaki motorcycle in front of the house. The little house on Cleveland Avenue looks neat and tidy: white shutters, smooth parkway grass, black wrought iron fence. Toward the end of my stay there, it didn't look that good. The house next door, not yet updated then, looks much better today. Perhaps our old house does too; I haven't passed by in a while.

Both photos show my husband's dark, bushy mustache and graying, receding hair. My hair is longer than usual, and curly. Fortunately, that was one of my thinner periods, so I look old-fashioned (now), but not bad. Our clothing is nondescript; we obviously didn't dress up for the occasion, except to add motorcycle boots and carry helmets for the second picture.

What a picture of the mid-seventies! As I recall, Lincoln Park home prices were already rising quickly (we bought our little delapidated house for $17,500, although we spent a lot more than that to renovate it), and we were happy with our relatively carefree lives.

Of course nothing lasts. We replaced that Kawasaki with a series of BMW motorcycles, and our first European motorcycle trip came later in 1976. That's the trip on which I broke a leg, so nothing's perfect. We both eventually completed our careers and retired optimistically, but Jules died in 2000, leaving me depressd for a while.

All in all, while that mid-life smugness seems exaggerated, we need surprise reminders like Reardon's article to remind us about how things were. I've changed a lot in thirty years, and while I'm no longer that optimistic (or that thin), I'm happy to be reminded of the life I've had. I'm also happy that I'm still alive and able to revisit this book. This is another reminder of the lasting power of the written word--and of photographs.