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Archive for “Baby Boomers” news
When I first heard that President Obama was considering nominating John Kerry to replace Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State, I figured, oh great, we get to re-litigate the Swift Boat controversy again.
I’ve never really gotten the car-cult thing. So far in my auto-owning life, I’ve had a Nissan, a Jeep, a Subaru, a Mercury, two minivans whose makers I don’t even remember and the current Honda. No brand loyalty whatsoever, as you can see. I don’t wash my wheels, or even vacuum them until they really get grody. To me, a car is just a way to get to work.
You may have noticed, but American cities are currently in the midst of a population renaissance. As my generation continues to ditch its cars and suburban boulevards for fixies and city streets, the metropolitan lifestyle continues to become just a little more mainstream. In fact, the population of Greater Center City alone, the area bound by the Delaware and Schuylkill rivers and Tasker Street and Girard Avenue, has grown more than 10 percent in the past decade.
Earlier this month, my wife and I took my grandmother out to lunch for her 89th birthday. “Mom-mom Rose” has lived on the same tidy South Philadelphia block since the 1940s. We were joined at the restaurant by her current “gentleman friend” (I'll call him James) who, despite being at least 15 years her junior, looks, well, like an old man. My grandmother on the other hand, often passes for a woman in her 60s; she lives her life like one 10 years younger—an age-to-attitude discrepancy that often drives my mother (who actually is in her 60s) bat-crazy.
Here's something a lot of young people don't know: When middle-aged women get plastic surgery, they're not trying to look younger; they're trying to look familiar. For the years between college and age 40, let's say, most women look about the same as they always did. Maybe you gain a few pounds here or there, but if you put two photos side by side—"me in college" and "me at 35"—it'll be pretty easy to see it's the same person. Not so with "me in college" and "me at 50." Seeing the self-slippage, and anticipating the discrepancy between "me in college" and "me at 60, 70, 80" causes a lot of anxiety.
IIt sounds like a throwaway joke in an Adam Sandler movie—let's get Nana high!—but Philly native Robert Platshorn is deadly serious about his mission: Giving senior citizens expanded access to the sticky icky icky. Platshorn is the man behind The Silver Tour, which advocates teaching the elderly about the benefits of marijuana, and now he's produced a short documentary called "Should Grandma Smoke Pot?" to carry that word to a broader audience. Platshorn says the doc will play in two television markets with his target constituencies: The retirees of West Palm Beach, Florida and the stoners of Eugene, Oregon. In
Over the weekend, the first of my friends from high school became a grandma. Actually, she became a “Loli,” because she hated the way “Gran” and “Grannie” and “Nana” and "Baba" and all those other old-lady grandmother names sound. Whatever you call it, the baby’s absolutely adorable, and was absolutely unplanned. It took a while for Loli to tell us—and by "us" I mean the bunch of us that were in each others' weddings and have stayed in touch and spend the occasional nostalgia-filled girls’ weekend together—that the blessed event was forthcoming. She wasn’t ashamed, exactly. Okay, maybe she was a little bit ashamed—Christ, hadn’t she drummed “birth control” into her kids’ heads since they reached puberty? But mostly, I think, she was shocked. This wasn’t the way the life she envisioned for her son was supposed to go.
If you were offered the chance to live forever, would you take it? What about if your chance at immortality came from a 31-year-old Russian national with a penchant for robotics and a plan? Some might call it a scheme, but that’s exactly what Dmitry Itskov’s course of action is for the now-Internet-famous 2045 Initiative, a project bringing together 30 top Russian scientists to develop technology that would ultimately lead to eternal life. And by Itskov’s estimation, it’ll be here in about 33 years.
I’m so ashamed. My secret obsession has been revealed. I must now face the scorn and ridicule of my family. It went down like this: On Sunday night, the closing ceremonies of the Olympics were aired on, well, just about 12 different stations, and I was poised to watch every minute. Not because I was eager to see the fireworks extravaganza or hundreds of Brits parading around in crazy costumes. Nope, I had seen the teaser on the Internet earlier in the day and, as much as I was tempted to check out my obsession online, I waited for prime time. It wasn’t easy. With a glass of chardonnay in hand and curled up in my comfy chair, I settled in to watch the closing ceremonies.