What We Learned

Learning is a critical component of life. Lifestyle gurus tell us; folks with a plan for continuous intellectual growth occupy the ranks of the happiest and healthiest folks on the planet. Furthermore, those who share this psychological growth with close friends and family score at the very top of the “happy-o-meter.” This is a mighty important theory and certainly one that deserves a Gail and Toni corollary. So, look out Dr. Freud, here goes our first endeavor into the scientific world of psycho-happy science.

G&T Corollary of Happiness

If learning leads to happiness – learning on vacation leads to bliss. To us, vacation is really living. We don’t believe vacation equates to expensive. Some of our best vacations are those short getaways to places like Adair, Iowa for the Iowa Sheep and Wool Festival, or Sabula, Iowa for some “island time.” But early each January, we stretch our journey to include the warm sands and tropical breezes of Mexico. We always find these little excursions to be “learning experiences.” So sit back, prop your feet up and enjoy this 50+ Lifestyles Exclusive Report: What we learned in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

Iguanas

Iguanas are lizards – distant cousins to the crocodile, alligator and the garden lizard of our native Oklahoma. They range in size from cute little three inch guys running around the rocks to giant four footers peering at you with a hungry look in their eye. As you might imagine, our first order of business is to assess just how many tourists are eaten each year by rogue Iguanas on the prowl.

So listen up – here’s the good news. According to the internet, Iguanas are herbivores – they prefer vegetarian pizza to quivering human flesh. Just how reliable is this internet report on their proclivity for plant mater over flesh? We had cause for concern. Each morning as we enjoyed breakfast on the balcony of our condo, we counted the Iguanas sunning themselves on the branches of nearby trees. Most mornings, we could see six, eight and sometimes 10 of these guys perched on the highest limbs. They ranged in color from deep green to bright orange with splashes of red and green. They’re pretty well camouflaged, but once you adjust your eyes, you realize the place is overflowing with two or three foot lizards. Our research continued.

One day on the beach, we met a young girl, who shared our skepticism for the whole lizard diet thing. She told us of her own scientific theory – if the Iguanas will eat a ham sandwich, the human race might soon follow. To test her theory, she gingerly approached a respectable-sized Iguana with ham sandwich in hand. She quickly offered the sandwich to the lizard and bolted back to a safe distance to observe. To her dismay, as soon as the sandwich hit the ground – dozens of hidden lizards appeared out of nowhere and fought for the morsel. Apparently, she didn’t stick around to see if they gobbled the pickle, but not the pork. So, the mystery remains.

Chihuahua dogs – Stereotype or reality?

Popular culture would have you believe the Mexican people are wild and crazy about a microscopic breed of dog – the Chihuahua. Taco Bell did their part to reinforce the popular notion with their billion dollar ad campaign featuring “Gidget,” the talking Chihuahua.

Not to change the subject or anything – but Gidget passed away in July 2009 at her home in Beverly Hills. She was 15 years old at the time, which translates into 105 in people years. But, we all know the California lifestyles of the rich and famous lead to long healthy lives. Look at Current Trophy Husband, Frank’s hero – George Burns – who worked well into his 90s. But, we’re not talking about long life; we’re talking learning, happiness and Chihuahua dogs.

Each morning, we took a leisurely stroll down Puerto Vallarta’s boardwalk. Our guess is half the people out had their pooch along for the excursion. And, you guessed it, a large percentage of these dogs were of Chihuahua ancestry. We saw big Chihuahuas, tiny ones, Chihuahuas with t-shirts, and Chihuahua poodle mixes. So yes, Virgina; Chihuahuas are very popular.

Jicama – the mystery vegetable

Finally, tickling one’s taste buds brings gastrointestinal happiness. Jicamas are a root plant – a cross between a potato and a turnip – except they taste a whole lot better than turnips (just saying). We have eaten them before as a healthful and crunchy raw snack. While in Mexico, we ate our first one served as a salad/garnish at a road-side taco stand. As CTH, Frank enjoyed a pair of grilled marlin tacos, we helped ourselves to the side salad. We like them so much we incorporated them into nearly every meal we prepared in our own condo kitchen.

The recipe section can be found elsewhere in this publication, but allow us to share our own recipe for fun:

Jicama Garnish
Peel and dice a medium sized Jicama into half inch cubes.
Add, two jalapeño cut into very small slices, a half cup of diced carrots and a large bunch of chopped cilantro.
Top with the juice of two fresh limes
Toss and serve chilled with a freshly made Margarita

How’s that for learning and happiness?

Now for our grandchildren, it’s a trip to the emergency room followed by a 10-day dose of a $49 bottle of antibiotics, and then mom calling the attorney to sue the constructor for leaving a horribly vicious pile of gravel where it was such a threat.
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After grandpa retired, first grader Zeno knew just the right gift. Tears came to grandpa’s eyes when he unwrapped the present of official business cards with his new title: Full-time Grandpa. Zeno said, “Congratulations on your retirement. Now your full-time job is just being my grandpa.” Grandpa jokingly asked, “How much do I get paid?” Zeno responded, “As many hugs as you want each day.” Grandpa hugged Zeno and replied, “Well, I guess that means I’m a rich man.”
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When grandma asked her granddaughter, Evy, “What do you say if a stranger gives you candy?” She looked at her and said, “Trick or treat.”
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When I hear music I love, I know I can’t carry a tune and don’t have much rhythm, so I sit self-consciously and listen. When my grandkids hear the music, they feel the beat and move to it. They sing out the words, and if they don’t know them, they make up their own.
_______

You know you are a grandparent when you have the spare bedroom decorated in a Goodnight Moon theme.
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Having new baby sister, Jordyn, in the house brought out the “little mother” in big sister, Kaylie. She watched mommy’s every move. Kaylie became an expert on what to do when Jordyn cried. Grandma was holding the baby one day when Jordyn began to cry inconsolably. Grandma’s distress in figuring out what would quiet the baby, turned into laughter when Kaylie ran into the room shouting, “It’s okay, Grandma, just take out your boobie!”

What do most people do on a date?
On the first date, they just tell each other lies, and that usually gets them interested enough to go on a second date.

When is it okay to kiss someone?
You should never kiss a girl unless you have enough bucks to buy her a big ring and her own VCR, because she will want to have videos of the wedding.

On what falling in love is like:
Like an avalanche, where you have to run for your life.

On the roles of good looks in love:
If you want to be loved by someone who is not already in your family, it doesn’t hurt to be beautiful.

How to make love endure:
Be a good kisser. It might make your wife forget that you never take out the trash.

Gail and Toni Resolve to…..
January 2012

A couple of years ago, we documented our trip to the great Mayan ruins deep in the jungles of southern Mexico. Even though this trip lacked funding from the National Geographic Channel, we did our level best to explore the classic knowledge of what some call the most advanced civilization in the New World. While there, we learned the Mayan calendar abruptly ends on December 21, 2012. This civilization said the world as we know it would be caput, game over, The End with a capital “E”.

We found this quite shocking, because we like to plan ahead. And, despite our best efforts to inquire, nobody could tell us if it ends at midnight on the 20th, noon the next day or even if it all happened on the East Coast time, like the big ball at Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve shindig in Times Square.

A year ago this month, we put together our own personal bucket list – everything we wanted to accomplish in 2010: trips to Galena, rides on the Dubuque Fourth Street Elevator and dinner at Boozies joined some pretty ambitious activities – like attending a box lunch event at the library.

A quick review of the list indicates we still are a couple of items short of achieving completion of the fun-filled activities, even a full year later. But, if those pesky Mayans have their way, the pressure is really mounting to get things done. And, if those pre-Columbian astronomers were right, this may actually be (heaven forbid) our very last January message.

So with all the stress of penning our truly final New Year’s saga, we thought we better make it count. And what subject could be more weighty than the time honored New Year’s Resolution?

January seems to be that time of year we all pause to take stock in our lives and then resolve to make positive course corrections. For instance, the news anchors tell us pudgy crowds push their way through the doors of health spas and gyms this time of year. We can only imagine the membership roles at Weight Watchers get a hearty bump as well. We think of this as the true price of those free cookie exchanges and copious quantities of Current Trophy Hubby Frank’s favorite high octane Anderson Erickson Eggnog.

But don’t you worry your cute little 2012 head, we’re not going in that direction. That skinny little Dr. Sanjay of CNN will no doubt torment your consciousness on that topic, just like Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio’s pocket. Just read on as your friendly 50+ correspondents provide you with a real health lesson.

Those pesky medical researchers are always blabbing that everything on the planet causes some kind of disease or personal pestilence. Drinking too much coffee is bad, too little is worse. Red meat clogs our arteries, not enough gives us iron poor blood. A glass of red wine improves circulation, but a drop more causes your liver to fall out. Heck, some of these pseudo-scientists tell us drinking too much water might create bad effects.

But good old Gail and Toni have latched onto one thing sure to improve your health, clear up your skin and cause warts to go away – the power of laughter. To the best of our knowledge, no doctor has ever heralded laughing as a source of harm. As far as we know, not a single person on planet earth has ever actually laughed themself to death. Although, we do wonder what happens if you “laugh your head off.”

So, all of our resolutions involve laughter. And, we know “Enquiring Minds Want to Know,” so here they are – in all their guffaw glory.
We resolve to:
1) Always laugh at the right time during our preacher’s Sunday message.
2) Act like we’re laughing when our Current Trophy Husbands tell one of their recycled jokes.
3) Laugh whenever we see the beauty of the Q-C river sunset because we know other people pay big bucks to see something less spectacular in Europe.
4) Laugh whenever we forget something important.
5) Laugh whenever we visit friends who are sick (and ask them to join us).
6) Laugh if we ever ride a roller-coaster again.
7) Laugh our way through the next Muppet Movie and cackle like a hen during the next monster movie.
Laugh when we stub our toe in the middle of the night and would rather cry.
9) Never laugh with our mouths full of pop – because it looks bad when it comes out your nose.
10) Laugh all the way to the bank – you know we 50+ journalists are rolling in the dough.

And finally – we know what you’re thinking. Sometimes it’s impolite to laugh. For instance, an improperly placed chuckle as the minister says, “If anyone has cause that this man and woman… let them speak now” might immediately ruin your chances of being named aunt of the year. We have just the thing for you.

According to the internet, the best laugh stopper is to exhale into your palm. Those around you may think you are suffering from some hot sweat or palsy – but you can explain it was an allergic thing.

Happy New Year

Don’t get us wrong – we love the holiday season and simply adore Christmas. We like street carolers – as a matter of fact, the Cub Scout Pack from McKinley School has been kind enough to grace Gail’s front porch with their melodic greetings for as long as we can remember. We love traditional Christmas music – George Beverly Shea belting out a 100-year-old hymn sends shivers down our spines. And we love Nat King Cole’s little ditty about “Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire.” And this brings us to the crux of our conversation today. Christmas and the December Seasons bring out some mighty strange eating habits.

Feasting and celebration are linked back to Biblical times. Noah had his Feast of the First Fruits, Father Abraham had a feast to celebrate Isaac’s move to solid food, the Ancient Greeks had feasts, the Romans had their bacchanalia’s, and King Arthur’s giant round table wasn’t just for decoration. But these days, we seem to cram more eating into the 40 days between Thanksgiving and New Year’s than a person can shake a stick at. Every family has their own custom – we want to share some of ours.

First, eating and company – when people drop by in December, you’d better have a little something for them to sink their teeth into. Everybody has their favorite little treats; cookies, cakes, mincemeat pie, tarts, candies or one of the hundreds of treats available at the store. Current Trophy Husband, Frank, has a bizarre affection for fruitcakes. Stashed somewhere in the back of the liquor cabinet is a sliver of 20-year-old fruit cake. Each year sometime around Christmas, he pulls the carefully wrapped bit of cake out from its hiding place. He consumes a bit, dampens it with bourbon and then religiously rewraps the thing back in old cloth and tin foil. Psychedelic hallucinations must follow, because he can soon be seen mouthing the words to The Christmas Jug Band’s song “Santa Don’t do it – Don’t shave on Christmas Eve.” Speaking of Santa, we probably created some stomach distress for that jolly old elf with a few treats in our day.

As kids, we always made sure Mr. Kris Kringle had a snack when he arrived. It’s not our place to comment on our status of naughty or nice. Thinking back, we were probably in that grey area that could go either way. We were clever for our age. We realized the importance of bribery at an early age. And we went out of our way to put down some awesome treats for Ole’ Santa.

Now, Santa and his reindeer obviously traversed the state of Oklahoma in a North to South route. He arrived at Gail’s house sometime between six and seven on Christmas Eve. One can almost see him circling overhead, as the family prepared for their annual Christmas Light ride. No sooner had mom, dad and the kids piled into the trusty Rambler did Rudolf lead the team to drop off the goodies. And – at this early hour of a no doubt hectic night, Santa preferred Hydrox Cookies and a short snort of cow juice.

For those of you who lack a personal relationship with the “bearded one,” let us fill you in. Santa loves Hydrox Cookies. These were a crème filled cookie similar to an Oreo. And, in case you are thinking generic knockoff, the Hydroxes were invented a full five years ahead of their now famous cousin. Santa craved them, because the cream filling is subtly tart and the outer cookies crisp. They hold up to a milk dunking without leaving a nasty crumb mess on your fur lined suit. Further, in those days, Hydrox cookies contained no lard like the Oreos of the day. This made them fit well into the diet of a guy who had to clear about a zillion chimneys before the night was over.

Toni “Christmased” in South Central Oklahoma, which obviously came later in Santa Claus’ schedule. He didn’t arrive at her house until well into the early morning hours of Christmas Day. By then, Santa was beginning to grow tired of his store-bought favorite. She and her cousins created a gigantic pile of homegrown treats and milk. Being a jolly good fellow, Santa laughed like a bowl full of jello and consumed her 1,000 calorie pile of goodies.

Today, Santa still stops by our house, but his tastes have changed. The cookies and milk have been replaced by Anderson-Erickson’s diet eggnog with a short shot of Jim Beam. Generally, Gail buys CTH Frank a Deluxe Fruit Cake from Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana, Texas. She has to hide it, or Santa will cut off an unhealthy slice of that pecan packed treat on his way up the chimney.

Well, the old clock on the wall says it’s time for us to go, but before we sign off on our favorite time of the year – we want to share a bit of trivia with you. The Oklahoma State Flower is the Mistletoe Plant. Buy a sprig and share it with a loved one – but don’t eat the Poinsettia leaves.

Have a Happy December …..

November seems to be one of those twix seasons – sandwiched between Halloween and the holidays like yesterday’s turkey between two of slices of stale toast. Let’s face it – nothing much happens until the last week of November. But once things crank up, life is a blitz of activity for the next six weeks. Ok, we’ll grant you – November is a great time for early bird shopping, but otherwise – November is about Thanksgiving.

Strangely, the words of a song we learned back in the Eisenhower Administration still find a way to percolate to the front and center of our consciousness this time of year. It went something like, “Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go…” As cute little 1950s munchkins, we recited that refrain, completely unaware someday that famous sleigh full of pilgrims would be heading to our hacienda. But let’s get back to our vision of the perfect Thanksgiving celebration.

The consummate family gathering – Thanksgiving meant getting together at Grandmother’s house. The best of these trips meant we left right after school on Wednesday and arrived on Thanksgiving Eve. Mostly, this meant we slept in pallets across Granny’s floor. Kids sprawling out in every direction of that coveted spot on the bedroom floor.

As a child watching from a distance, the hustle and bustle of kitchen activities appeared mysterious and magical. In her effort to produce the vast quantities of food required to feed the family, dear old Granny used an array of kitchen gadgets that would make Ron Popiel blush. And, we’re not referring to modern – all of these featured wooden handles and seemed to be operated with brisk flicks of the wrist or quick turning momentum. Except for one…

Part of every meal included some ingredient which needed mixing – no Cuisinart or blender used here.

Instead a metal cased Sunbeam mixer was brought out of a back corner of the cabinet. And, after a short lesson and qualifying test drive, we were allowed to run the mixer. Whether the recipe called for white icing for a cake or frothy whipped cream for the pumpkin pie mix, we got to run the mixer. Up and down, round and round – we stood on a stool and demonstrated our capacity as a mixer operator. It must have been a hereditary skill, because Grandma told us and our cousins we had to be some of the best mixers in the world.

But running the mixer was just part of the fun. After the mixing was through, we were allowed to clean the bowl. The bowl mixer blades and a whole bunch of spoons were shared with the cousins. We furiously attacked whatever drippings and droplets left in the bowl like a school of hungry piranha.

We awoke early the next morning to the sounds of more activity in the kitchen. Grandma was busy getting the turkey ready for the big day. We always kept an eye peeled for the turkey dressing – we expected some kind of calico dress or at least a nice little nightgown. It was only when we got a little older we learned the true meaning of “dressing the turkey.” And the turkey itself was a thing of beauty. A trip to the local grocery reveals birds of all sizes, but we swear the turkey of our fifth year must have weighed in at 88 pounds. A giant of the species, it no doubt dominated the farm yard prior to its untimely meeting with Farmer Jones.

Once the kitchen activity died down, Granny gathered us around her big black and white RCA console unit to watch The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Giant floats, great bands a few TV stars and the Mummers danced across the screen. For a couple of small town Oklahoma girls, the mystique of those strange guys dressed up in Mummer’s costumes was fascinating. After the parade, we talked about Philadelphia, New York, California and all those faraway places that we would visit as adults.

By the time the parade was over, we started to bore of the whole adult scene. We would explore the backyard and the alley behind Granny’s house. We would wander around the block or play with our cousins, who started to appear in droves. Other times, we would join our dads for a quick ride to the grocery store for some forgotten ingredient. The festive mode was carried over at the store, and typically we scored a moon pie or a candy bar for our efforts. But it didn’t ruin our young appetites.

Sometime in between noon and early afternoon Grandma would call the family into the feast. Turkey, dressing,
cranberry sauce, deviled eggs, mashed potatoes, gravy, yams, corn, peas, green bean casserole, French bread, oyster stuffing and pie – pumpkin and apple. Nope, we didn’t ruin our appetites.

Hope you have a great November… Don’t ruin your appetite!

Mitch Miller, Karaoke and the Quad-Cities

It was a crisp fall Thursday night back in 1961. The whole family was gathered around the big console TV in the living room. We were already dressed in our PJ’s and washed up ready for bed. It’s a school night, and the rigors of our
elementary education called for an early bed time. But, somehow we got a glimpse of a pre-Beatles phenomenon about to sweep the nation. The TV was tuned to the local NBC station and suddenly the announcer blared – “It’s time for Sing Along with Mitch.”

Music pioneer, Mitch Miller, introduced the bouncing ball to the American lexicon. We stood wide-eyed and awestruck as our parents lurched forward and started singing “The Yellow Rose of Texas” at the top of their lungs. Heck, we were native Okies, daughters of the Sooner State, what the heck was going on here?

Somehow, over the next six years, moms and dads and boys and girls of all ages belted out song after song with Mitch’s low fidelity orchestra and chorus. Mitch didn’t seem to mind that the folks back home couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. He stood there smiling through his gigantic goatee, waving his baton and encouraging mayhem in the homes of the masses – all in living black and white.

Actually, we think Mitch made out like a bandit. He went on to sell records, TV Specials and for those of you who are trivia nuts, Mitch lived a long full life – dying last summer at age 99. According to our resident expert and Current Trophy Husband (CTH) Frank, Mitch had a sick penchant for encouraging no-talent singers toward animal torture – and we will touch on that later.

So, now you ask; what exactly does mustachioed Mitch have to do with In and Out of the Quad-Cities? It’s a long story, but… we were at a party a couple of weeks ago and met a couple of new friends. They seemed like a really nice
couple, and somewhere in the party patter, they divulged – they Karaoke.

In our QCA adventures, we have met many interesting folks – brewers, pilots, TV personalities, robotic engineers, soap makers, fiber artists and even an ex-member of a motor cycle gang. But we’ve never had anyone come forward with the admission of being a Karaoke enthusiast. Quite frankly, it got our wheels turning. We had to learn more.

For those who may be Karaoke neophytes, allow us to provide you with a bit of background. Karaoke got its start in Japan. According to CTH, Phil, who has traveled to Japan, Karaoke is like a national past-time for these folks. When they’re not munching on raw fish and sipping sake, the Japanese are thinking about their next Karaoke session.

The word is actually derived from two Japanese characters roughly translated into “empty orchestra.” And, here’s how it works. A Karaoke machine provides the background of a song without the main vocals, as a TV monitor flashes the words (Mitch Miller-style) across the screen. Singers are given a microphone and the opportunity to sing along (without Mitch).

In true investigative reporter fashion, we decided to check out the local Karaoke scene incognito. So, we dipped into our disguise kit, dressed as Karaoke fans and ventured into this underground movement.

We checked the local entertainment section and found that Karaoke appears in a number of spots across our fair city. Our first stop – a quiet neighborhood bar called the Circle Tap. The place was packed with patrons, and it was easy for us to slip in unnoticed for a firsthand assessment.

The Karaoke setup included a nice lady running the machine in the corner of the bar. Following each performance she would announce something like, “Joe and Bill you are on deck,” and then she would pass the microphone to the next singer. The current singer would belt out some mid-80s song; she would then call out the next on- deck crooner before
handing the microphone over to Joe and Bill.

Now a word on the singers – the average person in America can hum top-40 songs in the shower with style and poise. But when it comes to singing a full song, they struggle. Here’s our take on it – if the average person had to sing for their supper, America’s struggle with obesity would be a moot point. Don’t get us wrong; these people were definitely
having fun, but our guess is small animals were suffering in a 10 block radius. But here we refer to the average guy down the street. Every now and again, a Susan Boyle in the making emerged and pure magic followed.

A few of these work-a-day Quad-Citians can really sing. When they open their mouths melodies pour forth. There is no way to tell who it will be. If you happen to be one of these Susan Boyle types, we hope you will find your way out to the local Karaoke scene. We’ll be watching for you.

Can you believe it… our story was on the front cover of last month’s 50+ Lifestyles? We’ve been walking on air. We made sure our mothers got a copy to send out to all those aunts and uncles. We even thought about sending a copy off to our 3rd grade teacher – we imagined that she would somehow be impressed. It was the very pinnacle of our journalistic career. Back in 70s there was a song called “Cover of Rolling Stone,” and we’ve been humming it all month. But this pair of roving correspondents isn’t going to rest on their laurels… no sireè. We have doubled down to come up with a scoop so fantastic it will put us in the running for the Pulitzer Prize of 50+ stardom.

And speaking of August, as we round the turn and head into the summer backstretch, it’s safe to say we all are becoming experts on the HOT topic of summer. To illustrate the depths of our commitment to our role as 50+ correspondents, we have braved the 100 degree heat and 90 percent humidity to research the things about summer that, well, bug us.

Cicadas – Aren’t these things supposed to hit every 17 years? It’s the cool of the evening. The sun is slowly setting on the western skies. The refreshing breeze of the summer night is beginning to stir. You grab a glass of your favorite Sangria recipe and retire to the veranda (or at least the patio). But the unwinding is interrupted. Truth is, in our part of the QCs, you can barely hold a civil conversation after dark. This locust (family members) plagues our city. They’re only supposed to come out every 17 years, but weren’t they bugging us last year, too?

To better understand this issue, we went to Mr. Know-it-all, we mean Current Trophy Husband, Frank. He did a couple quick reference searches and came back with this. Yes, indeed, one member of the Cicada family is on a 17-year cycle. These bugs go through a 17-year life cycle, so the noisy critters were born back when Bill Clinton was president. They only come out every 17 years, but apparently some of their family members didn’t get the memo. A good number of the Cicada family is on a two or three-year life cycle. So they go about disturbing the peace every summer.

And Speaking of More Summer Time Bugs

We like to take walks along the Mississippi River. The walk from Lindsay Park to Downtown Davenport is one of the most serene treks a person can make. The lights of the Centennial Bridge dance across the water. An occasional tow boat with barges moves along, slowly readying for the Lock and Dam at Arsenal Island. It’s beautiful. But a couple of days this summer, we had to concentrate on keeping our mouths closed to avoid taking on a diet rich in protein and bug legs. Yep, these little guys seem to spend their lives waiting to crash land on your tonsils mid-sentence.

According to the Scott County Extension service, this year has seen a bumper crop of Mayflies. They don’t know why they were attracted to our fair city, but they showed up in big numbers. But they aren’t as bad as they’ve been in the past. One long time QCA resident and frequent fisherman along our walk told us in past years they had to use special equipment to remove these guys from the bridges. So many landed on the bridge it turned into a traffic hazard. We were skeptical, but a quick search of the internet revealed issues with these guys closing down bridges in numerous locations. They’re a heinous detriment to modern society. And Mother Nature must have been pretty fed up with them, too. Unlike their noisy cousins of the Cicada family, these creepers live for less than a day before joining their friends in that big flytrap in the sky.

We thought Yellow Lights didn’t attract Bugs

When we were kids, everybody had a yellow light bulb on their front porch. And according to the common wisdom of the time, yellow lights didn’t attract bugs. We decided not to put together massive scientific research program to check out the story. Instead, we took the money and went out for ice cream. During our trip, we noticed the Tasty Freeze utilized a massive yellow light display. Our guess is, with the proper equipment, you could see the yellow din from outer space. So, if yellow lights have an effect on buzzing bugs, this place would be 150 percent bug free.

As we made the turn into their old-fashioned ice cream drive-in, we noticed a strange haze in the air. Could it be a dirty windshield? Or, were there billions of bugs flying everywhere? As we stood in line for our flavorful treat – we noticed a few people twitching. We assumed they were in the final stages of “ice cream induced psychosis” – a nervous reaction to going over 12 hours without hot fudge. But we soon found ourselves swishing away Junebugs, Mayflies and moths of every size. This bugged us, but not enough to stop our feast.
We like to end on a positive note

They say bad news sells newspapers. Happily 50+ Lifestyles is free, so this allow us to end this story on an upbeat happy note. Bugs don’t like ice cream. We’d like to wish you a great late summer.

When I bought my i-phone, I thought about the 30-year business I ran with 1,800 employees, all without a cell phone that plays music, takes videos, pictures and communicates with Facebook and Twitter. I signed up under duress for Twitter and Facebook, so my seven kids, their spouses, 13 grandkids and two great grandkids could communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of space.

That was before one of my grandkids signed me up for Tweeter, Tweetree, Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie and Twittererific Tweetdeck, Twitpix and something that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program within the texting world.

My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything except the bowel movements of the entire next generation. I am not ready to live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.

The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost every now and then going over to the grocery store or library. I keep that in a box under my tool bench with the Blue tooth [it's red] phone accessory I am supposed to use when I drive. I wore it once and was standing in line at Barnes and Noble talking to my wife, and everyone in the nearest 50 yards was glaring at me. I had to take my hearing aid out to use it, and I got a little loud.

I mean the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside that gadget was the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically say, “Re-calc-u-lating.”

You would think that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light. Then if I made a right turn instead, well, it was not a good relationship.

When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of the cross streets, and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy, the GPS lady, at least she loves me.

To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless phones in our house. We have had them for four years, but I still haven’t figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have to run around digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone rings.

The world is just getting too complex for me. They even mess me up every time I go to the grocery store. You would think they could settle on something themselves, but this sudden “Paper or Plastic?” every time I check out just knocks me for a loop. I bought some of those cloth reusable bags to avoid looking confused, but I never remember to take them in with me.

Now I toss it back to them. When they ask me, “Paper or Plastic?” I just say, “Doesn’t matter to me. I am bi-sacksual.” Then it’s their turn to stare at me with a blank look. I was recently asked if I tweet. I answered, “No, but I do toot a lot.”

We senior citizens don’t need anymore gadgets. The TV remote and the garage door remote are about all we can handle.

The month of July has arrived once again, and it’s truly beginning to feel as though summer is here. We had plenty of rain in June, and with lots of warm nights, “can’t you just hear that corn growing?” That’s what my dad always said to me as a kid growing up on the farm. He would tell me it took rain and good warm nights to make a good corn crop, and if I would be still enough (which rarely ever happened), I could hear that corn grow at night. I actually believed him at that time, now Not So Much…..

When July rolls around, I always know we have a fun family time coming. The fourth of July was always a special time for us growing up, and I still enjoy the fun it brings. There’s nothing to bring the kid out in a person like a good fireworks display. Many a 4th of July night, I’ve set on the ground on a blanket with snacks and treats for two-plus hours just to secure a great seat to see the fireworks when the sun
finally went down. I grew up in Missouri where fireworks were legal, so we always had great fireworks at home on the farm. It seems as though we made our own fun in those days.

Speaking of making your own fun, I got an e-mail from my daughter a couple weeks ago, and my 9-year-old grandson, Aaron, was busy making his own fun. She sent me her version of ‘Funniest home videos’ of Aaron cruising down their staircase in a homemade boxcar. It truly was a “box” car. He had created a car out of cardboard big enough for him to crawl into, and he then mounted himself at the top of the stairs, pushed off and 14-16 stairs and a bumpy ride later, he ended up at the bottom of the stairs in a pile of pillows. At that point, even though I didn’t see it on video, he got out of that boxcar, climbed the stairs and set himself off down the cliff again. Years ago, we might have just considered that a busy young boy making his own fun. Today maybe his mother and dad see a bit off an engineer on the rise.

I guess I told you that story to make you think of a younger day, a day when you and I were kids and looking forward to a fun holiday, a boxcar ride in a homemade car, or just a bowl of homemade ice cream. Take time to look for the fun things in life, the adventures you created for yourself. Remember the child or grandchild that did something that made you laugh till you cried.

Have a wonderful July and don’t miss a thing that will make your day more fun and your spirit lighter.