Yes...80s Music Is The New Elevator Music

 I saw this photo the other day, I don't know where. But, I had to snap a picture and send it to m wife. It describes us to a T.

A few years ago we bought a sound bar for our living room TV. It was on sale during Black Friday. It's not a good one, but it does what it's supposed to do--it amplifies music from our phones. It's perfect for when we bring out the duster and the vacuum cleaner from the laundry room and start cleaning, all the while listening to the songs of our youth.

We listen to my wife's playlist. I'm too lazy to create my own playlist so we use her's, and the one we listen to most is: 80s Alternative.

If you're not familiar with 80s Alternative, just listen to the music being pipped into the overhead speakers when you go shopping. 80s Alternative is the new elevator music. If you're too young to recognize elevator music, don't worry--just wait a decade or two and you'll be shopping for unspoiled produce when a song will come over the speakers and you'll stop.

Then, you'll remember the song.

Then you'll find it unbelievable that a song you used to dance to with your friends is now playing w/o lyrics on the grocery store sound system.

Then, you'll realize you're old.

But don't worry. Just go home, crank the tunes on your home speaker system, and do some cleaning.

It May Not Be Changing The Time On A VCR...But It's Close

 The old joke went something like this, "You're so old, you can't even stop the flashing 12:00 on your VCR." That joke's so old, it's never heard anymore. Why? Because almost no one has/uses a VCR machine nowadays. Like a rotary phone, a child born in this century most like has never seen one, let alone how to use it (although, the rotary phone seems like it would be self explanatory, then again...). 

Case in point, my youngest's digital wristwatch.

We bought this thing for him years ago and it refuses to die. He's been on a construction site for the past year and the thing just keeps on ticking, though it's not a Timex (another old joke many might not get...). When you use a timepiece for any length of time, it will need to be adjusted.

That's where I come in. 

I've been called in to re-set the clock at least twice a year, when the clocks are also re-set. The other day my son brought me the watch and said something happened and it needed to be re-set. I know this is something he can do, something he can learn, but I grew up with these things. Re-setting them is second nature. Plus, it's nice to be asked to help out.

I have no idea when this thing will stop working all together, maybe next month, maybe never. And as long as I'm around, I'll be glad to fix it for him. 

I also remember how to set the clock on a VCR...

If anyone needs that, just let me know.

Curse You, Lost Hour...Curse You!

 It seems like every other social media post today was a complaint about the Daylight Savings Time change. I add my voice to the others. But, of all the complaints I read on sites and also our group chat at work, there's something I noticed this time that I don't believe I've ever thought about before. It's a question, really.

Why does the time change seem to affect me more and more as I get older?

I remember back in the day, I used to love changing the clocks in the fall. I looked forward to sleeping in, or at least enjoying that extra hour of sleep when we had early church. It was glorious. But as I get older, that extra hour eludes me. Sunday morning, I woke around 7am, which was really 6am. This morning, I got up at 6am (old time...) which was really 5am (new time...). 

Bummer.

The "spring forward" always sucked. I thought I was somehow being robbed of something, even though I knew I would get whatever was robbed back in the future. That never helps when I lose the hour each spring. And if I can't take advantage of that extra hour (can't sleep in...), then it seems to me I lose twice.

 I've never lived in area that didn't change the time twice a year so I'm not sure what it's like to not do it. I can only imagine it's fantastic. Our state has tried to get the rule changed and I believe it's being held up on a federal level...I could be wrong about this and if so, I apologize.

Still...it would be fun to try.

Give Thanks...The 15-Minute Mile

 All my life, I ran. I used to run all over as a kid. I ran to school, ran home from school, ran at school. Back then, I was much smaller and much lighter. I didn't have to run everywhere, of course, but I did mostly because I enjoyed it. I loved to run. I wasn't the best runner, but also not far from the worst. 

Funny how things change as you get older.

As the years pass, I've sort of given up on running...almost completely. I never run anywhere, not to school, not from school, not at school. Part of it is because I'm larger and heavier, which makes things much harder on the legs, shins, ankles, etc. 

When we moved, we had some extra space in the garage so we set up a small gym. We had thought about selling our treadmill before the move, but we brought it along. I'm glad we did. Every work day I go out to the garage and do a little physical activity, which includes walking a few minutes each day. As I've gotten used to exercising, I've increased my speed and distance. Just for fun, I jogged for fifteen minutes and when on the #4 setting, that totals a mile. It took me fifteen minutes to job a mile.

My old self would find that completely unacceptable. I used to run 5Ks in almost that time. But, without really running in years, maybe that's not so bad. 

Truth is, I'm grateful that my aging body can cover that distance in that amount of time. I know if I keep going, I could trim that time. I think--at my age--a ten-minute mile is a good goal to try and reach. And if I could keep up that pace for three miles, then that's something.

I found my personality pushes me when it comes to running, almost to a fault. I think I'm going to take it slow, see how my body reacts, then try and do better. Even though my legs burned, I enjoyed it--in some sick way. Yes, it took me fifteen minutes to run a mile...

But, I did run a mile.

Folks...I Don't Know If I'll Ever Eat Another Crumbl Cookie Again

 Thursday, we were out and about, running errands and picking up stuff. We had some time to kill before our appointed time to get our groceries so we decided to stop and get a treat. I mentioned that Crumbl Cookies had a store in a strip mall near the grocery store. I'd never been, but I'm not one to turn down a cookie. They must be pretty good, I thought, since they can stay in business selling only cookies.

That's where I was wrong.

The cookie I had wasn't pretty good.

It was amazing.

As a kid, I ate so much junk food. My mom used to buy the gallon ice cream tubs and I would have a bowl of ice cream almost every day. Back then, I could not gain weight to save my life. On my first drivers license I got when I was sixteen-years old it listed my official weight as 103 lbs (times sure have changed...). I was sent on a church mission to Denmark. You know what they have in Denmark besides Lutherans who don't want to convert?

Danish pastry.

And, boy--did I eat my share of Danish pastry while I was there (still couldn't gain weight...). I have so many delicious memories of the Danish people and their food.

But I digress...

I brought my raspberry and cream cheese Crumbl cookie home and dug into it. A thought...as I get older, I'm realizing I can't do some things I used to do, or if I can still do things, I don't do them as well. Eating huge delicious desserts appears to be one of those things. I could not finish the cookie in one sitting so I had to put the uneaten half of the cookie in the fridge. I devoured it the next night. The reason I may never eat another one is because it was so good and so rich, it sort of sat in my stomach the rest of the night.

As many things go, I'll probably change my mind if I'm ever near a Crumble Cookie store and feeling a bit peckish. I may try one again--never say never. But, in all seriousness, I can understand the franchise's success....they make a good cookie.

For Jeff...And That Million-Dollar Smile

There's an old joke that goes something like this--When you're a young man, you read the business section of the newspaper, to see how your finances are doing. When you're an old man, you read the obituaries, to see if your friends are still around.

This week, I felt old.

For many of us, we no longer read newspapers--we get our news other ways...Facebook, for example. Thursday night, after finishing up my blog post and posting my daily picture, I spotted a post, a post from someone I've never met. She broke the news that her husband past away the day before. It wasn't Covid or an accident that took him from her, but a heart attack.

The man was someone I've known for decades, a man who, at one time, I counted as a friend, and I suppose I still do, even though we haven't seen each other since our graduation from high school in the mid-1980s...a man who left us all too soon.

As it is with many of the people with whom I attended school, we re-connected via Facebook. I believe a few years ago he reached out to me and we became Facebook friends. He wasn't an avid contributor (or, maybe he was an his and my algorithms didn't line up...), but I saw his posts every now and then. There was one thing, however, that I always noticed--that huge smile. It's in every picture. I know posts and pictures can mask reality--we seem to want to only show our "good" side--but with Jeff, the authenticity exudes from those photographs. And scrolling through his Facebook timelines since his passing, Jeff's happiness and love of life not only came across in the pictures, but was verified by his many friends and loved ones.

It made me wish we could have chatted in person before this past week.

Jeff grew up a few neighborhoods over, next the the cemetery. I may have gone into his house once (memories begin to fade after years and years...). I know his birthday is on July 4th, which, I always thought was cool. Imagine, sharing the birthday with a country and the whole nation celebrating with you every year. I looked at my old elementary school photos. He and I shared a class. I remember him being a stud athlete, too. 

As those of us from Farmington who lived in a time when you could get into Lagoon for free as local residents or could eat at the Tom Boy Cafe continue on our own personal journeys, we'll see others journeys come to an end. Of course, it's not suppose to happen now--maybe in twenty or thirty years. Unfortunately, life doesn't work like that. The greatnesses of life can be offset by the injustices...opposition in all things. Jeff's family is hurting, and all the more so because a man in his mid-50s isn't supposed to leave so soon.

The news floored me, even though we weren't close right now. Seeing childhood friends pass away reminds us of our own mortality--at least, it does for me. Since we don't know the future, we venture forth in faith hoping for the best. I'm sad that Jeff's gone. I pray for his family and friends, and hope they find comfort in their knowledge and memories of a man who loved life--you could see it in that million-dollar smile.

Forgetting The Simplest Things...

I snapped a picture the other day of a garage door that had yet to be closed. Of course, we closed it, but sometimes I forget that it's open. It's so frustrating because as I park the card in the garage, I lock the van--I never forget to lock the car.

Then, I go upstairs and that mental note of closing the garage door that only seconds before was front-and-center, it's gone--vanished.

I wonder if this is just the way things are at my house, or am I forgetting because I'm getting old? 

It's so easy to tell people--either mentally our out loud--that people should just accept getting old, embrace it, live your life. You'll only be disappointed by spending tons of money to try and reclaim lost youth. But, when you're the one getting older, you wonder if you will change your mind. The first time I had a decision to make concerning trying to stay young happened in my early twenties.

I was losing my hair.

I could have looked into transplants, toupees, or Rogaine, a newly developed product at the time, to try and look young. Each option, to me, had little upside considering the downside--doesn't look good and costs a ton of money. I didn't have funds to try any of these options at the time, nor would I try them now. I just accepted it and so far, things are working out.

But, forgetting things...well, that's a little more serious than losing some hair. In all honesty, forgetting to close the garage door could be because I'm excited to be home. The dog runs up and you just have to pet him and play with him a little. I also get to see people I haven't seen in a while. So, it may not be because I'm getting old. Closing the garage door...it seems such a simple thing to remember, but sometimes, it's not.

I Can See Clearly...At Different Times

New eyeglasses...

Usually, not a big deal for me. In the thirty-or-so years I've worn glasses, the prescription hasn't changed much. I can still wear my first pair of prescription glasses and I see okay. Of course, the newer the glasses, the better they work. The pair I got last week...well, they're different.

They're bifocals.

Yes, I'm old.

And the new glasses are taking a little getting used to.

If you look at the above page of my latest WIP, you may be able to see the top words are in focus, but the bottom ones aren't. The woman at the optometrist's office explained it to me this way, "With bifocals, think more about where your eyes are looking and not so much where your head is pointed." That's good advice. And I've used that advice ever since I picked up the pair. But, that first time I put them on and things I looked at the lower half of the lens having a different focal point than the top part--that was a rush. Those of you who have experienced this understand. It's not normal.

It's taking time, but I am getting used to it. I wasn't sure until yesterday morning how they would work while I was working. I can say I was happy with the results. Normally, I don't wear glasses at work, but part of the display is at the edge of my clear vision. The new glasses help solve that problem.

Yes, change requires more change. Today it's eyeglasses. Tomorrow...well, who knows? I guess we'll figure it out then.

Saying Good-Bye To Goodly Parents...

I attended a viewing this morning, a viewing for one of the first people I knew from "Old Farmington." Those of us form Old Farmington know what that means. Our family moved to the town in 1970, newer than some, older than most.

Old Farmington now only exists in our memories.

Nelda was the wife of our first bishop and the mother of a childhood friend. In these later years, she was so kind to come up to me at church and ask how I was doing. We'd talk about this and that, and she'd always arrive and leave with a smile. I found out earlier in the week she had passed. It made me sad.

Another parent of a friend is no longer with us.

Unfortunately, it's happening--and will continue to happen--more and more, until none of my friend's parents will be here. The price of getting old, I suppose.

I will always associate the Oakesons with Farmington. In my mind, they can't be separated. We grew up, attended school, attended church in Farmington, and even though so many moved away and were replaced by others, many will always be residents of Farmington. There was a time when I knew almost everyone that lived within a mile radius of our house, and if I didn't know them personally, I knew of them. It's such a great place to live that many remained, so much so that one of the only ways to buy a house in the old part of town is to wait until people die. It sounds crazy, but in many ways, it's true.

My father passed away when I was eight years old. I had friends being raised by single parents--mostly due to divorce. I don't remember a lot of kids who had a parent die. My mother (who was seven months younger than Nelda...) passed away almost thirteen years ago. I'm now left to watch friends go through what I went through. I know the experience of losing a parent is different for everyone, but there are some things I know they'll face, feelings they'll have, emotions they'll need to experience. It's not that I have a ton of wisdom, but I do know about that.

I am glad many of my friends still have the chance to call and talk to their parents, or go and visit them for holidays or to drop in just because. It's a blessing they still get to have to be able to take their children to visit the children's grandparents. Today, a wonderful family gathered in a church to say good-bye, the same church where we did the same thing for both my parents. It's an important day, a sad day, but also a day of release, of joy. It's a day another part of Old Farmington will forever exist in our memories.

My Father-In-Law, My Wife's Dear Father...Is Gone

The text message contained only two words.

He's gone.

Even though previous text messages said the end could happen at any time, the two simple words--the first a contraction of two words: he is, and the last, a verb, expresses a state of being--punched me in the gut with the finality of it all.

There's a void when someone leaves us, and not just to travel to another city, state, or country. Their spirit that once resided in the same world as us has left, leaving an emptiness. The man I knew almost twenty years longer than my own father passed away today. Ten days ago we gathered at the home he and my wife's mother built. We shared his eighty-seventh birthday.

Words seem to lack the sufficient weight to try and explain feelings, emotions, thoughts, and memories. And we're all exhausted. Tomorrow the sun will rise and it will be not as bright, but it will bring with it hope. Goodbye, Blaine...until we meet again.

Used An Electric Cart To Shop For The First Time And My Question Is...Why Have I Been Walking For 50 Years?

Yesterday my wife and I found ourselves facing a decision. We needed to pick up something for dinner and we planned on barbecuing. It was Independence Day, after all. The decision that faced us was this: do we go into the store just after returning from Instacare and with my wife in a walking boot just after injuring her calf?

Or, do we go home and figure out something else for dinner.

"I could just go in and get everything?" I suggested. I could tell she wanted to go in too, instead of sitting in a car in 90º temperatures with no shade did not sound fun.

"Yeah," she said. Then we both had the same idea--we can used on of their three Amigo shopping carts. I think we even laughed at the idea, but we also both wanted to do it. Truth be told, I've seen more people use the carts at our local Wal-Mart than at the Harmons store that's near our house. Still, you can't say you haven't been at least a bit curious at what it would be like to zip around on one of those things.

And so we did, or my wife rode--I made sure the pathways were clear. We purchased deli salad, meat to grill, some eggs (because we were low...), and ice cream. We scored on the ice cream--buy one, get one free! We would have bought more, but a couple of gallons was sufficient.

Luckily, we had parked close so my wife zipped across the parking lot ("zipped" may not be the most accurate word to describe the Amigo's speed...) and loaded up the van with our goods. I don't even know if we're supposed to take those things into the parking lot, being first-timers, and all. My wife got in the van and I returned the electric conveyance back to the store. I experienced first had the thrill of piloting an electric cart and I think I could have crawled faster back to the store. I felt like a dork.

My wife and I had a blast in the store. We even joked about not using one of those things earlier. I mean, we'd been wasting all that time and energy walking when we could have ridden in style. Still, of all the pluses associates with the Amigos my wife and I would hate to have to use one. I guess the answer to my question of, why have we been walking instead of riding all these years, is this:

Because we were able to walk.

Is It A Big Deal...Or Am I Just Getting Old?

A few weeks ago I posted a picture of a bicycle laying in our yard.

And the bike wasn't ours.

Remember when you were young and you ran around with your gang of friends? You played in the neighborhood, rode your Schwinn Stingrays with the banana seats and tall handlebars, feeling the wind in your hear (back when we had hair...) and going anywhere we wanted. I remember those days fondly. 

I also think I remember us either making fun of, or just parroting old men when they yelled, "Hey kids--get out of my yard!"

Thinking back, I can't actually remember a old man, or even an older man saying those words to us. It's probably something we think old men, or older men loved to say. I mean, what damage can a bunch of pre-teens do in an old man's (or older man's...) yard? All we we would do is run around other people's yards. And, sure...maybe a sprinkler head would get destroyed now and again. Maybe we'd run through a flower bed or two. But did anyone die? Did the earth stop spinning? I think not. No, we were just kids having fun.

So, what happened in the past forty years that's changed?

Turns out, I did.

The bike, that's not one of ours, didn't do any harm. It's was just lying there. I'm sure the owner would eventually come and get it. No big deal, right? Actually, the next morning we were going to mow the lawn so I moved the bike to the curb. Since we live on a cul-de-sac, there was little chance anything would happen to the bike. And the next morning it was gone.

As an adult, having a bike in the yard could be problematic. What if one of the kids runs through the yard, falls over the bike and breaks an arm? See--old man thinking right there. The bike didn't bug me, really. But what it did was make me realize that if an old man, or older man yelled at kids asking them in a loud voice to leave his yard, I can now see where he's coming from. That's what growing up really means.

When Your Oldest Child Turns 21...

When you see your kids reach milestones in age, it reminds you of when you reached those same ages--at least, it does for me. Today our oldest turned twenty-one-years old. He's an old man. And considering I was almost thirty-years old when he was born, that makes me an extremely old man.

We had to whole family together today, which, considering I'm working two jobs now, is a rare thing. The only downer is the allergies hit me hard today. So much so, I missed out on going to see Kung Fu Panda 3 with the family.

Twenty-nine years ago I turned twenty-one. At that time I was living in Århus, Denmark's second largest city. I had a couple of months before my LDS mission was over. Because I kept a daily journal (even back then...), I just read about the day a few minutes ago. It wasn't a particularly rememberable day. Some friends of my mission companion came down from Ålborg (Denmark's third-largest city...) and we spent time with them. I don't know if we even celebrated my birthday all those years ago.

Tonight my in-laws came over and we had cake and ice cream. My son has his entire life ahead of him. He's got choices to make, school, marriage, career, basically decisions that will determine his future and the future of many others. It's a little strange--but also exciting--to watch your kids grow up. I wonder what lies in store for them.

So, I Was Doing The Laundry And...

*

So, I was doing the laundry and...

I tweaked my back.

Such is life.

I don't know a lot about human anatomy, but what I do know about the back and spine is that it's a tricky area. I have friends who have needed back surgery to correct problems and others who live with the pain, and some who live with the pain even after having surgeries.

Needless to say, it's a delicate part of the body that can give a person fits. 

I've been lucky. I have, occasionally, tweaked my back, but mostly my upper back was affected. I hurt it sneezing once, and another time, I think I turned my head to look at something. Basically innocent actions that a person does everyday can throw a back out. That's what makes it so unpredictable. Today I was taking the sheets off the bed and the pain hit my lower back. It wasn't so bad that I couldn't move. I was able to finish the task at hand and get the sheets into the washing machine, but the rest of my laundry day was done a little bit more carefully than normal.

I've never had lower back problems, hence the luck. In fact, except for some pretty obnoxious allergy reactions (obnoxious to others...), I feel I'm fairly healthy. In a few months, my time on this planet will surpass that of my father. It makes me think about life and death and stuff. I suppose we all think of those things from time to time. For now, however, I'm going to be thinking about my back.

* Photo used without permission from: http://www.backpain-guide.com/Chapter_Fig_folders/Ch05_Anatomy_Folder/4OverallSpine.html