The 80-something blog doesn’t usually get into politics.  This is a blog about aging, not about how to run our country.

However, I must speak up about the poor use of English in the news last week.  There was some controversy over the Republican Veep candidate’s negative statements about the childless-ness of Kamala Harris.  She has been, however, the step-mother to two of her husband’s children for ten years, and according to their birth mother, very involved in their lives.

Harris’ stepdaughter, Ella Emhoff, posted the following on Instagram, “How can you be ‘childless’ when you have cutie pie kids like Cole and I?”

In my view, it should be “like Cole and me”.

Is my grammar out of date?!

During our 56 years together, Peter and I had a very workable division of labor.  For example, he didn’t iron anything, and I didn’t do anything that required a screwdriver.  He mowed the lawn, and I watered the plants.  Etc.

So, in the almost three years that I have been on my own, I’ve learned a thing or two.  (Luckily, I don’t have a lawn anymore.) My latest challenge:  a loose toilet seat, the result of a houseful of overnight company (not that I am blaming anyone in particular).

First, I tried on my own, but I failed in my attempt to get access to the screws that held the seat in place.  Then I googled “tighten Toto toilet seat”.  Five minutes later, mostly spent digging out the correct two screwdrivers, problem solved.

You gotta love Google.

My apartment is back to normal.  I have done what feels like endless loads of sheets and towels.  I have deflated and returned the borrowed blow-up bed.  I have finished or disposed of the remains of a barbecue feast that we brought in for dinner one night. 

I have done a college visit to Maine and was there when the head football person offered Grady acceptance to the school and a confirmed spot on the team as kicker.  I made my first ever visit to a men’s football team locker room where a TV monitor said, “Welcome Grady, #11”.

It’s five days since the last departure (which was at 4:00 a.m. so Jeremy could be home to begin coaching the high school girls flag football team the next day). But the sweet memories and many photos remain.

With all the chaos in the world, it was lovely to have so much fun with family.

Talk about being lucky…

In 1991, I wrote an article, “Sisterhood in the Suburbs” that was published in New Woman, a magazine that no longer exists.  I originally called it “Thank You Jane Fonda” because it was about my Jane Fonda exercise group.

Three working moms met twice weekly in one of our basements, leotard-clad, and worked out to Jane’s taped instructions.  Our husbands claimed we exercised our mouths more that our bodies.  Actually, we did both.

We all know about Fonda’s history of being an activist for important causes and that she has actually spent a few nights in jail over the years.  Of late, her cause has been climate change, a subject about which she is passionate.

It’s true that Jane Fonda has had some “work” done, but she looks beautiful and has the energy of someone decades younger plus the courage to take her message to anyone who will listen. She is amazing, and most important to me…

She’s 87 years old!

I was delighted to be asked by Jeremy to join him and my (almost-senior-in-high school) grandson for a college-look visit to Maine.  A generous friend of Jeremy’s who works at the college has offered the three of us an overnight stay in his home, and we are taking him up on it.

Jeremy agreed that this required a special gift, and we decided we’d take care of it together.  Jeremy brilliantly did the following on his own…

He turned to CHAT GPT for help.  Among the several reasonable suggestions offered, Jeremy chose a gift certificate to a fine local restaurant.  Then CHAT GPT suggested some restaurants.   It couldn’t actually buy the gift certificate (that required a credit card), but within moments…gift problem solved.

Another triumph for technology!

I live in under 1200 square feet of space.  It is more than adequate for one person, and quite comfortable for two.  Three works fine as long as two of them can share a bed.  After that, it gets a little complicated.

So, there will be three of us tonight, and five of us for the next two nights.  There are a lot of moving parts here (and not much room to move them), but it will be fun.

As he often does, my son Jeremy has created a “group chat”.  Its name?

“Grammy’s Floor Dwellers”

As a child, my dad and I bonded over baseball.  When we lived in Cincinnati, Ohio, it was the Reds.  We moved to Pittsburgh when I was nine, and although it took me a while to change allegiance, I came to love the Pirates.  My father’s business bought box seats on the third base side, and although they were for his clients, it was mostly our family that occupied those seats. 

Now that I have lived in Red Sox Nation for decades, I am a 100% Red Sox fan.  So, when my son Seth invited me to New York City to see a Red Sox-Yankees game, I was thrilled.  That game happened on July 6^th.

The Red Sox held their own for a while, including being in the lead for a short time, but one disastrous inning was their downfall.  Still, despite the devasting heat and humidity, I had a wonderful time.  The Yankees fans are so loyal (and loud), but there were a few Red Sox shirts and hats in the stadium.

I couldn’t help but note that baseball fans don’t distinguish between Republicans and Democrats, and I wondered if we could use baseball to unite our troubled country.

It might work.

There is a lot to be said about the value of inter-generation interaction. 

Recently, I watched a recording on that subject from a panel at Aspen Ideas. Panelist Marc Freedman, author of  How to Live Forever: The Enduring Power of Connecting the Generations, told the following story:

In a senior living facility that encourages young residents by offering them affordable rents, a classical-music-loving 94-year-old woman named Carla became a friend of a young viola-playing next-door neighbor. They formed a deep bond over their love of music.

When the neighbor became engaged to another violist, Carla did not get an invitation to the wedding.  Instead…

She was the maid of honor!

I wish I had a nickel (or better yet, a $1) for every time recently that someone has asked me if I have “any exciting summer plans”.  I also wish I did have some exciting summer plans.

I recall with great pleasure summer vacations at the ocean when our boys were quite young, and some wonderful trips abroad with them during their teens.  And I remember 25 joy-filled summers of bicycle trips to destinations near and far with Peter and close friends.

But that was then, and this is now.  In summer 2024, I will vacation at home.  I may take day trips to pretty places.  I will explore Boston’s changing waterfront—a whole new world. I will go to a Red Sox/Yankees game in Yankee Stadium with Seth who is in New York for the summer.  And I have been invited to join Jeremy and my grandson Grady for a college visit to Maine. 

Exciting plans?  Maybe not, but it sounds like a pretty good summer to me.

I had a couple of things on my grocery list, nothing urgent, but I hadn’t left the house on one of those very hot days and I thought a change of scenery might be a good idea. So, I persuaded a neighbor to join me for a short visit to the grocery store, and off we went.

The first event of note was when I used brute strength to pull a stuck grocery cart out of the line at the entrance to the store, demonstrating that my weight-lifting practice has been successful.  A much younger man coming in behind us commented on my effectiveness in cart separation and said he’d hate to get in a scuffle with me.  A good start.

Next, we bumped into a neighbor carrying a load of coins that she hoped a machine would turn into dollars.  It did.

We had a lot of trouble finding one item my friend wanted and made a trip around the perimeter of the store before asking for help.  Then, realizing we were  getting some much-needed exercise without working up a sweat, we cruised around the store again.

Number one on my list was a box of Yasso mango ice cream bars.  Well, not surprisingly, there had been a heatwave generated run on ice cream bars, and I had to settle for Yasso’s strawberries and cream.  Turns out it’s not a bad flavor.

It’s amazing how a trip to the grocery store can improve your day.

Happy July 4^th!