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You are here: Home / Archives for Baby Boomers

Scared of my Shadow

March 1, 2023 by Scott "Q" Marcus

I have spent the last couple of months engaged in the most creative, expansive, complicated project this near-70-year-old body has ever experienced.

With the support, guidance, and loyalty of a couple of dozen actors and technicians, I was at the helm of a world-premiere fairy-tale, fantasy, live experience that debuted here in my hometown, written by – and co-directed with – my sister. From the birth of the concept until the final standing ovation and triumphant critical reviews, it has been an intensive, immersive, magnificent memory that I will take to my grave. I wish you a long enough life so that you can share the joy of an event like that before your time comes to an end.

This brings me to my point.

While swirling and spinning with arms outstretched among the fairy dust, magic wands, and magical characters of Never After Happily, the real world oozed through. Like a gelatinous, ominous, malevolent, sticky goo rising through the floorboards in a horror movie, I received the shocking news of the results of a medical test I recently took. It is indeed the dark, oppressive yin to my starry, colorful, brightly-lit, fantasy-miracle world of yang.

I thought about whether or not this was appropriate fodder for my column. Of course, after one has written a regular piece like this for almost 20 years, everything that happens has the potential to be the basis of one of my missives.  Yet, I hesitated because, well, is it a case of TMI to share my medical news with several thousand strangers? Is it anyone’s business aside from my family’s? Will they look at me differently? Does it matter?

Yet, the reality is that although we might never have met in person; you and I have not shared a cup of coffee or talked on the phone, or even exchanged text messages. We have not breathed deep the warmth of a shared hug or even smiled face to face as we passed each other on the street. Nonetheless, in my mind, you are family. I know not how you look. I have never heard the timbre of your voice, nor shaken your hand. However, when I write these words each week, I see you as clearly as the orange, blue, acrylic; star, planet, and comet mobile that hangs in my office. You are always with me.

With family, one shares.

So, to that end, my doctor wanted me to take a Cologuard test. At this age, that’s S.O.P. There was no advanced concern; I am not showing symptoms of colorectal distress. It’s just what one does at this age, realizing that there are fewer days in front than behind, and wanting to maximize the time we have left.

In my view, the only proper result for a medical test, is a bright red, circled “A+” emblazoned across the top of the page, the words, “Great Job!” handwritten nearby. It is certainly not to see the harsh declaration, “Positive – Abnormal,” in black and white on a computer screen.

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Baby Boomers, Gratitude, Health, Newspaper Column Tagged With: aging, cancer, emotions, health, health care, medical costs

Exasperating – the verb

July 7, 2022 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

I find myself exasperating a lot.

I’m assuming, as you read that, that you believe what I am saying is, “I find myself to be annoying, grumpy, and irritating.”

That is NOT at all what I mean. I am NOT saying that I find myself to be exasperating. Well, truth be told, sometimes I do, but that takes us off track, and in that case, I – and probably you – would indeed find myself to be exasperating. Anyway, my intention is to use the verb form of “exasperate.” To be honest, I’m not sure there is a verb form of exasperate; I couldn’t find one, so I might have made it up.

Nonetheless, as stated, I am exasperating (verb) a lot recently.

Now that I’ve made that clear as mud, an appropriate follow-up question is, “What is said action that one associates with the feeling of exasperation?”

At least in my case, it’s a curmudgeonly, exhausted, exhale which loudly escapes my lips when I am confronted with something of annoyance. Along with the sound comes a general attitude of irritation, rolling of my eyes – and oft times, a choice swear word or three.

I now provide an example of what in Scott’s world causes exasperating (verb tense).

Shoelaces.

Yep, shoelaces. They seem innocuous, I get it, but what yanks my chain is that “when I was a kid…” (every curmudgeon begins with that expression), shoelaces were cut to the length to fit the shoes with which they were partnered. If the shoes had four eyelets, the length of the shoelace would be shorter than, for example, hiking boots, with eight eyelets and a hooky-do thing to wrap your laces around. Dress shoes? Short laces. Knee boots? Long laces. Simple, right?

As they say, “Hold my beer.”

The Shoe Gods have decreed that all laces should be the same length. The repercussion of such a conclusion is that after tying my tennis shoes, what remains is a garden-hose length of excess laces, causing a tripping hazard. I have tried to stuff it into my shoe but that’s uncomfortable, so I double or triple-tie the laces, leaving large bows, attempting to utilize as much of the excess as possible.

Is that exasperating (adjective tense)?

Well, sure, to a point. But what causes me to exasperate (verb) is that, due to the extreme excess “laceage,” while walking I repeatedly step on the loops and they untie, requiring me to stop, exasperate, bend down, and re-fasten the laces. But wait! There’s more! Taking off shoes also initiates exasperating because inevitably, when I yank on the lace, it creates a knot, due to all the loops and unnecessary string wrapped around everything. This entails pulling the shoe from my foot while still tied, obtaining a fork (to insert into the knot to separate it), and unraveling the mini-Gordian knot that is now my shoe; all the while, exhaling forcefully, rolling my eyes, and cursing about the poor customer service of the manufacturer.

Shoelaces are not the only source of exasperating. Passwords are another.

Case-in-point, I started this column on my iPad but Microsoft required me to sign in first. This dictates getting my password manager, finding the correct code, selecting all images that look like a bus, entering in the squiggly (mostly-unreadable) letters on the verification page, and waiting for an email verifying I’m me. Of course, typing with stubby, old-person fingers on the flat screen of a device is at best, imprecise; so, because of a one-letter typo in my password, I am informed, “Too many attempts. Try again later.”

C’mon, you’re with me, right? That’s exasperating. I wanted to write, not pass an FBI security check. Sigh and roll your eyes with me. Profanity is elective.

To the point that started this screed, I’m exasperating a lot. I exhale more than a pipe organ with broken bellows. I don’t like that in me. Dare I say it, I find it exasperating (adjective, not verb).

I realize that “exasperators” are first-world issues. I get it. I’m grunting, griping, and grumbling my way through too much of my precious day over annoyances that on the grand scale of cosmic karma don’t even put forth a ripple.

Therefore, henceforth, I commit to focusing on not exasperating so often. It’s an all-too-often sign of frustration or anger, emotions in direct contradiction to gratitude and acceptance, which is where I wish to spend more of my time. My new focus will be, that even when something doesn’t occur the way I want or expect (which happens often but is inevitably minor), I shall choose to be grateful that I am alive to experience this annoyance. No, really, I’m serious. I’m working on that.

The exhale I just did was NOT exasperating, but satisfactionating.

(We’ll define that at another time.)

Filed Under: Baby Boomers, Happiness, humor, Inspiration, Power of Attitude, Rant, Self Talk Tagged With: attitude, frustration, gratitude, humor, self acceptance, thankfulness

The Perfect Prescription

July 14, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

I don’t like going to the doctor.

It’s not that I don’t like my doctor; he’s great. It’s that it puts my impermanence on full display, stripping away the denial of immortality; even when it’s simply a routine checkup. Something about being in a medical office raises my blood pressure as well as fear level.

“How are you feeling?”
“You’re the doctor; wouldn’t it be up to you to tell me?”

He chuckled an inner warmth that blended well with his extensive knowledge. As I said, I like my doctor. In a time where the medical providers are overworked and under-appreciated, rushing here to there to accomplish everything required of them, he always appeared totally attentive during the short time we spent together once a year.

“Are you exercising?”
“Yes, I walk about 30 minutes at least five times a week – plus I take my dog out each day. That’s not really exercise because we have to stop and pee at every bush we pass.” I paused, then corrected, “Well, it’s not WE to have to stop and pee; it’s him. Just clarifying…”

He smiled again.

“Your blood tests all show that everything is as it’s supposed to be. You’re a healthy man.” He paused. “So, how’s your life?”

The question knocked me on my heels for a brief flash; not a query I expected from an MD, but, when you think about it, it makes perfect sense. One cannot heal the body while ignoring the mind and spirit. As I took a mental inventory of “how is my life,” I opened up about the waning days of my career, my aspiring spirituality, family drama, life goals, and the passing of years in general.

Says singer/songwriter John Mellencamp in The Real Life: [Read more…]

Filed Under: Baby Boomers, Gratitude, Health, Inspiration, Newspaper Column, Power of Attitude, Weight Loss Tagged With: aging, attitude, better health, doctors, good health, happiness, healthy lifestyle, mental health, quality of life, thankfulness, weight loss

Seeing Clearly

May 12, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

I am nearsighted.

Not your everyday, run-of-the-mill, I-can’t-see-the-bottom-line-on-the-eye-chart nearsighted; I instead am referring to objects further than six inches away appearing as a blurry mass. From the moment I rise until the last second before I go to bed, I must wear glasses. Should they fall and I can’t immediately find them, panic crushes me until I recover them. Without them, I am virtually blind. They feel as much a part of me as — quite literally — the nose on my face. I am fortunate however that my prescription allows correction to near perfection.

So, I became concerned when, of late, looking at light on dark, I have been experiencing “halos.”

Two examples: When the subtitles on the movie are white against black, the text is blurry. More problematic, when driving at night, although I can see clearly cars, roads, and signs; taillights and street lights lack the same crispness. It’s unnerving enough that I stopped going out after dark.

My father was a hypochondriac’s hypochondriac; he would solicit a second medical opinion when the doctor told him he was healthy. I don’t mean to make light of it; I point it out to somewhat explain my resistance to going to doctors; an irrational backlash to not being my dad. Therefore, for me to visit an eye specialist over my symptoms will shed some light (um, no pun intended) on how seriously I took this change in my vision and resultant alteration to my lifestyle.

If this scenario sounds familiar, you know where I’m going. If not, the cause of my optical degradation is cataracts. According to the Mayo Clinic, “A cataract is a clouding of the normally clear lens of your eye. For people who have cataracts, seeing through cloudy lenses is a bit like looking through a frosty or fogged-up window. Clouded vision caused by cataracts can make it more difficult to read, drive a car (especially at night) or see the expression on a friend’s face.” Approximately 200,000 people per year in the U.S. suffer from them.

This week was my pre-op appointment.

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Baby Boomers, Gratitude, Health, Inspiration, Newspaper Column Tagged With: aging, aging process, doctors, health, road trip, surgery, travel

Celebrating Tough Times

January 27, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

older man thinking

I can’t remember times as difficult as these, and I’ve been around the sun a few dozen times.

I — as well as you if you’re over 65 — am closer to the age of 100 than to the age of 30.

That is a truly remarkable thought when you let it sink in. I mean, remember, we were told not to trust anyone over 30 because they were “over the hill.” Looking at it through the eyes of immortal teens, 30 just seemed so, well, “old.” Of course, that decade flashed by in an instant, and at 40, we started to feel like grown-ups. Then, came the fifties, bifocals, a slightly expanded paunch, planning for retirement, and adult children (who were also fearing 30). Before you could say “I can now take money from my IRA without penalty,” the sixties knocked on the door.

It is the cycle of life. Despite magical thinking and a healthy dose of denial, to all, it finds its way.

Yet, again, as I’m sure for you too, aging doesn’t mean I’m going to curl up in a ball and wait for the grim reaper to knock on my door. I’m still vital and active. I still have dreams. After COVID has become a thing of the past, I will be on the road again, radio blasting, singing to my old faves as I head down that long ribbon of highway, hugging and visiting the people and places I’ve so missed.

As far as I know, I’ve still got several years ahead of me, so I’m back in school, studying a philosophy most of us equate with the “Law of Attraction.”

As a requirement for the class, we are required to journal regularly; something I’ve never done consistently.

Don’t misunderstand. I obviously like writing; this column in many ways is somewhat of a public journal. What holds me back is that I don’t like to write with a pen on paper. My mom wanted me to be a doctor; I learned to write as sloppily as one, but that’s as far as I got. So, to that end, if I record my thoughts in a journal, I won’t be able to decipher my hen scratches when I want to read them. I simply write too quickly, as I’m trying to keep up with my brain, which goes into overdrive. Should I slow down, while I’d be able to read it, my thoughts would evaporate before they got to paper; an empty journal is tragic.

Moreover, what happens if I have a life-changing revelation and my diary is not with me? Future generations will be deprived of my brilliance because I left my journal at home. How horrible would that be!

So, the obvious solution for a perfectionist like me who cannot do it perfectly? Don’t write.

Of late, however, I discovered the glories of an electronic journal, Day One, which syncs to all my mobile devices, computer, and even my watch. It allows me to record and tag my thoughts at any time, automatically logging the date, time, location, and even the weather at that moment. I can attach photos or images should I so choose.

One literally thought-provoking built-in feature is it asks a daily question, ranging from “what is your dream chocolate bar?” to “what happens when you die?” [Read more…]

Filed Under: Baby Boomers, Inspiration, Newspaper Column, Power of Attitude Tagged With: aging, death, god, Hope, journalling, new thought, Rules of the Universe, science of mind

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Recent Posts

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  • Change your thinking, change your life.

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