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"For seniors fortunate enough to have young grandchildren, the humorous innocence of youthful minds and perceptions are without a doubt the best medicine for nearly anything that ails you."

~ Gerry Atric


"Like their mechanical ancestors, computers can be a wonderful tool for communication and exploration, but only if they are used to enhance our lives, not as a substitute."

~ Gerry Atric


"It's time that the media extended its coverage of issues related to seniors and aging with some capacity to comprehend the tremendous and continual positive effect seniors have on the nation's economy and its overall quality of life."

~ Gerry Atric

 

 

PAGE ONE

Something old – something new
Practical plastic recycling tips
The perfect host or a friend in need?
Jumping to conclusions
Grandchildren are te best-est medicine
Experience needed
Green Pets
Use in moderation
Great music never fades
Imagination, fun, moderation—a recipe for fitness
Our dirty little secret
Stormy weather
An idea
Experience: essential
Perspective is everything
The Christmas rush
Merry Christmas


V1-N3 July 15, 2002

Something old – something new

It's funny how every new generation eventually mines the past to resurrect art, fashion, music, and literature that their parents and grandparents once enjoyed.

It seems that in the pursuit of something new, something invigorating and something exciting, the youth of today aren't quite as original or as outlandish as they'd like to believe.

From skateboards to tattoos most of it's been done before. But in my day, when someone had a tattoo they really stood out either as the merchant marine uncle or outlaw neighbour. Today even choirgirls are sporting tattoos.

Hearing a group of 20-year-olds sing the praises of Louis Prima, Frank Sinatra and Dinah Washington in a world where the volume of car radios is measured on the Richter scale and the music generally sounds like a mass riot has broken out in the backseat, gives me some hope.

Every time the younger generation reaches back to keep something from the past alive—from ballroom dancing to formal dress—I feel a little vindicated.

Now if only arthritis, dentures, hair loss, support hose, motorized wheel chairs and wrinkles could somehow become the rage with young people. The generation gap would get a lot narrower.

Just imagine young and old alike, starting up our electric scooters, turning up Sinatra and sailing down the street together with the wind aerodynamically running over our balding heads as we gum the lyrics to "I did it my way".


V1-N4 July 29, 2002

Practical Plastic Recycling Tips

When consumer-grade plastics first hit the market in the late 1930s and early 40s they were apparently intended to make the lives of consumers, particularly women, a little easier. Clothes irons, radios, jars, vacuums and everything in between, which once required the stamina of an Olympic weightlifter just to use or move around the house, suddenly became a lot more manageable and less onerous.

Well, as things like this have a habit of doing, improvements get out of hand after a while. Now there's nothing but plastic underfoot, overhead and round-a-bout.

So I've come up with a few innovative ideas to recycle and re-use all this plastic because there are just too many exceptions to the recycling bins in my neighbourhood and besides all those recycling numbers on containers are too small and too confusing.

1) Plastic beer can rings: These make great sock organizers. No need to fold anymore-just slip em through the opening and place in your drawer. There's nothing like pulling someone's leg by telling them you keep a "six-pack" ready in your dresser at all times.

2) Plastic shopping bags: Apart their obvious usefulness for storing, what else, more plastic shopping bags, they can, with a good eye and some meticulous stitching, be quilted together to make an inexpensive slipcover for that heirloom sofa. Not for your use of course, but for emergencies when notoriously messy relatives show up. You may have to put up with some snide remarks like, "Hey, where do you buy your furniture from, Payfare?" But at least their misbehaving progeny won't be wiping their chocolate covered faces into the fine brocade material of your couch.

3) Plastic Bleach Bottles: Cut vertically half way up from the bottom then outward. What you have should be left with is something that looks like a scoop. Now take a small square of paper and write out operating instructions as follows:

1. Firmly grasp scoop handle in hand.

 2. Approach processed matter from upwind position

3. Extend arm and commence swinging pendulum motion while overtaking matter.

 4. Using lip of scoop pick up offending matter.

5. Deposit offending matter into plastic bag, and relay matter to nearest garbage receptacle.

6: Repeat as many times as required.

Take the scoop and tie the instructions to the plastic handle, and without delay present as a belated housewarming or birthday gift to pesky neighbours that apparently need a very big hint to clean up their petÕs odiferous and unsightly doodoo.


V1-N5 August 5, 2002

The perfect host or a friend in need?

Cleanliness and order are usually a good thing except when taken to the extreme.

Recently, I visited an acquaintance who, I discovered, has become extremely particular about his living environment.

Knocking on his door I noticed a row of about fifteen pair of shoes outside his door. When he opened it he asked me to take my footwear off and place them beside his.

"I just like to keep all that outside dirt out of my apartment," he explained.

Fair enough I thought, as I stepped inside his apartment.

That's when he wheeled out a top of the line Tornado 2000 vacuum making more noise than a jet plane on take off.

"Because the dirt and dust is always getting in no matter what, I'll have to vacuum you Gerry," he yelled.

Before I could protest he proceeded to pass down one side of me and up the other, stopping only long enough to change attachments to something that looked like a shag carpet brush, which he ran through my hair.

Smiling as if this were as normal as taking someone's coat at the door, he was in cleaning heaven.

When he was satisfied the decontamination process was complete, he turned the vacuum off, hit the automatic chord return and smiled "there now we can have a nice chat and some coffee."

What was left of my clothes, having nearly been ripped off my body by the powerful suction of his monster vacuum, paled in comparison to my hair, which looked like I'd literally been through a tornado.

Afraid that I'd only experienced the eye of my friend's psychological storm I gingerly backed out of his apartment. After all if this is what it took to simply enter his apartment, can you imagine what I'd have to go through if I asked to use his washroom?


V1-N6 August 12, 2002

Jumping to conclusions

There's an old adage that as you get older you mellow with age. The belief is you get a little smoother, a little less biting and that you exude more of a peaceful afterglow.

Generally I think that's the case for most seniors and that's why I worried about my friend Freddy, who seemed like he'd bit into a lemon or had just finished a glass of vinegar every time we sat together for a talk.

Although he's only in his early 70s, Freddy passes away most of his day sitting on a common-area balcony and inviting cronies of all ages to sit with him and talk-a-spell.

Unfortunately no matter what the subject of the moment is, he'll invariably turn his attention to some sore point.

From politics to gardening and from food to car repairs, Fred appears to see things through jade-coloured glasses.

He and I were talking about car repairs the other day when he turned the conversation 180 degrees.

"That reminds me about a woman I knew, a real gold digger."

But Freddy, I protested, we were talking about whitewall tires.

"Exactly my point. She'd never be seen with a guy who drove around on blackwalls."

So I tried to shift the conversation to Folklorama.

I love all the events in the summertime don't you Freddy?

"Yah, but all that noise and all those people packed together, what a bother."

So I tried again. Hey Fred, what are you cooking for supper tonight?

"Some spuds and some beans. I knew a woman once who said she hated potatoes. I said what's the matter with you, you nuts or something?"

Basically it appeared as if Fred had set out to rain on any verbal parade that passed his way.

Then one evening in all earnestness, after a half-hour of bemoaning the world, he turned and said to me, "Gerry, I wish I could meet a nice woman somewhere, but they're just so hard to find."

I wanted to tell Fred he could attract a few lovely bees if only he'd offer up a little honey, but I was afraid heÕd use that encouragement to recount a story of someone whoÕd stung him.

I wanted to believe it was all a façade, Fred's cynicism.

In fact, I'd pretty much given up hope for old Freddy ever finding himself a lady friend. After all, it's pretty hard to sugarcoat Fred's personality.

But to my surprise, I found him sitting on the front steps one evening with a lady from our apartment complex.

I did a double take because Fred was holding this woman's hand and apparently consoling her.

Good evening Fred, I offered as I walked past him. "Hey Gerry, I'd like you to meet Helen," he insisted. Drying her eyes, Helen stood to shake my hand and said, "Hello, it's so nice to meet you. Fred's talked about you a lot. Fred is such a good man, always trying to help others out with good advice and encouragement. He's a real dear."

I nodded in agreement, while thinking to myself, who is she talking about and what did they do with the real Fred?

But Fred winked at me and smiled like it was a private joke.

The old fox had only been acting like a cranky curmudgeon all along. All that supposed negativity had only been for the benefit of public consumption.

Like most people, Fred, when the chips were down, was an optimist at heart.

So I was reminded of another adage as I left the two of them sitting together sharing their thoughts and words of encouragement with each other.

Never judge a book by its cover.


V1-N7 August 19, 2002

Grandchildren are the best-est medicine

For seniors fortunate enough to have young grandchildren, the humorous innocence of youthful minds and perceptions are without a doubt the best medicine for nearly anything that ails you.

One of my friends told me how his own five-year-old grandson walked up to him one day and asked "Grandpa, are you God?"

"Why do you ask that my Boy?" replied the startled senior.

"Because when my mom told my Dad I was going to be staying with you he said, 'God, is he in for a surprise.'"

A proud grandmother loves repeating the story of her two year-old granddaughter coming with her parents to visit during a serious illness. The young girl apparently climbed up onto the bed to lie beside her gran.

"I remember she didn't say a word. She just climbed right up beside me, lay on her side with her thumb in her mouth and the other hand gently stroking my cheek. It was like having an angel come to you."

Another friend, whose grandchildren live in Toronto, tells me that he will often take a stroll in the summer afternoon to simply watch the children at a local playground.

When I asked him why, he replied, "I watch these little hellions and sparklers tear up and down and back and forth and can still feel the tug of the little boy in me straining to get out and join them. It's still there inside me. And sometimes when the air is just right, when the perfect smell is there, I'm right there on the swings right beside them smiling and looking forward to the adventures the next day will bring."


V1-N8 August 26, 2002

Experience needed

Seniors can recall that as young men and women they often relied on the advice, guidance, example and wisdom of their elders to teach them skills—work related, people related and anything in between.

There were informal mentors at work, among relatives, friends and even neighbours. No matter what the problem, there usually was an elder you could seek out or simply observe.

There was the uncle with a knack for stretching a dollar, the neighbour who delighted in besting any mechanical problem or the widowed grandmother who knew a thing or two about loneliness.

Today it seems as if the idea and practise of drawing upon the knowledge seniors have built up over the years is somehow irrelevant in today's complex world where technological skills and proficiency are often considered more important.

Yet, young people today often remark that they don't know what to do, where to turn for practical advice, or how to come to terms with personal problems or situations. Part of the problem may be because they are reluctant to ask for advice or help, either letting pride get in the way or perhaps, underestimating their elders.

A retired friend of mine provided his own interesting take on the situation.

"Just strike up a simple conversation. It all starts with talking. It won't take long for a young person to tell you what's going on.

The world today is place that doesn't take much interest in individuals or their problems. You may start off discussing a broken faucet and end up discussing a broken heart. But always remember it's a two-way deal. Hopefully you provide a different perspective or even a solution they hadn't thought of, and they provide you with the reminder that all this experience you've accumulated is good for something else besides your memoirs."


V1-N9 September 2, 2002

Green Pets

While the focus this month is on pets—primarily the warm blooded furry kind—there are less obvious kinds too.

Mavis, a 75-year-old senior with a proverbial "green thumb" seems to have devoted every waking moment to creating the equivalent of the botanical gardens in her small apartment. From exotic ivies and cascading clematis and even a miniature orange tree, this woman can grow anything in her home. Her daughter tells me that "Mam" spends quality time with each plant, complimenting them on their appearance or progress when merited, and tending to those that require some hands on encouragement.

The results are spectacular, although I must admit that I sometimes feel as if I need a machete just to make my way from the living room to the kitchen. But it's obvious that these leafy green babies are as much pets to her as the four-legged variety, and provide her with a sense of both, aesthetic and tactile beauty.

As a bit of a pragmatist I'm trying hard to get Mavis to plant some vegetables and consumable grade fruit in her tropical paradise. I'd love to get my hands on some fresh romaine or cantaloupe during the winter but Mavis isn't having any of my nonsense.

It's not that she isn't up to the challenge you see, it's just that she couldn't bear the thought of me eating one of her pets, something she doesn't have to worry about with her 20 varieties of cacti. Ouch!


V1-N10 September 9, 2002

Use in moderation

When computers were first introduced on a mass scale in the early 1980s they were heralded as tools that would reduce paperwork, the length of the work week and generally usher in an era of unrestricted productivity and prosperity.

But just like all the revolutionary technological inventions that preceded them, computers also brought some unwelcome baggage with their widespread integration into society.

In the old days it was unheard of to go to a bank and hear the words, "I'm sorry we can't complete the transaction because our computers are down." Terms like "crash", "re-boot" and "virus" denote computer trouble. Like the automobile, which promised freedom, speed, convenience, is now inexorably linked to noise, pollution, urban congestion, urban sprawl and fossil fuel depletion. We have to accept computers as useful tools, with the potential of negative side effects.

Like their mechanical ancestors, computers can be a wonderful tool for communication and exploration, but only if they are used to enhance our lives, not as a substitute.

And just as we still walk or run or bicycle instead of relying on automobiles all the time, it will be to society's benefit if we remember to write a handwritten note and to hear each other's voices when possible rather than solely relying on a keyboard, a screen and binary coding. As the saying goes, remember to reach out and touch someone.


V1-N11 September 16, 2002

Great music never fades

It's gratifying to hear the music of an earlier time making such a strong comeback.

From Old Blue Eyes to Jane Morgan, Duke Ellington to the Mills Brothers and Les Paul to Johnny Cash, the golden greats are gaining whole new audiences among the young, who are re-recording the classics or promoting the rich musical legacy to a whole new generation of listeners.

That's quite a change when you consider that during the 70s and right into the 90s it seemed that the musical genius personified by these artists and many others had pretty much been buried by the younger crowd and by commercial radio.

For seniors at that time looking to relive some great musical memories, it pretty much meant having to dust off the old vinyl records and hoping the old record player still worked.

Luckily all that great music and talent has been rediscovered in the last five years. Both of Winnipeg's university radio stations at 95.9 FM and 101.5 FM feature some great shows devoted to music from the golden era of jazz, country and pop.

And CKVN (now CHNR), operated and hosted by former Winnipeg radio and broadcasting personalities—which has slugged away as a special events on-air/off-air operation for years—now has a permanent full-time license.

That's great news for seniors who'll remember the old voices and personalities and their eclectic musical tastes and it proves once again that class, quality and integrity are never out of style.


V1-N12 September 23, 2002

Imagination, fun, moderation—a fun recipe for fitness

The topic of sports and fitness can often conjure up daunting images for those of us contemplating getting into a little better shape. The sight of sweat-drenched long-distance marathon runners collapsing at the finish line or the eye-bulging Olympian-sized efforts of professional athletes is usually enough to derail any personal fitness plan.

For many, myself included, the often religious-fervor employed by those exhorting others to find "the zone" or to experience "the adrenaline rush" makes the whole pursuit suspect in itself. The startling mortality rate among people who suddenly and vigorously turned the innocent pursuit of getting into better shape into an obsession acts as a cautionary warning to all.

As in all things, moderation and enjoyment would seem to be the key to sticking with any exercise plan. It was in this spirit that I recently set up the following daily exercise regime for myself as a means of getting into better shape without devoting my life to it.

30-minute walk I set my pace by imaging I am being pursued by a pesky rug-cleaning telemarketer who has decided to make a house-call.

5 minutes deep-breathing exercise. I simply recall the most boring story IÕve ever heard and repeat it in my head until the required time elapses.

10 minutes swimming. Fill bathtub and jump in. I lie on my back and flutter kick slowly. I reward myself after the completion of my laps if the lifeguard—I mean my wife—isn't looking, by finishing my dip with a giant running cannon ball or belly flop. It makes a heckuva great splash.

2 minutes Leg kick-starts. Remember the last time you really stepped in it? Well it's the same action here. Raise one leg and commence shaking it vigorously. One minute for each leg.

There are other imaginative exercises and variations I come up with now and again to provide some variety. No doubt you all have your own. My neighbour slams his door everyday at least five times. I used to get a little angry about it until I realized it was probably nothing more than part of his regular exercise routine, just like my pounding on the walls with my fists is during his Friday afternoon Tuba lessons.


V1-N13 September 30, 2002

Our dirty little secret

For those of us who still drive, winter's approach is a time to size-up our car's condition while asserting some good-old male mechanical know-how as well.

But popping the hood of my 1999 Buick last week stopped me dead in my tracks. The maze of wire, hoses, belts and other foreign looking apparatus was a humbling experience.

In fact, it's impossible for a guy to do little more than scratch his head, poke it in there for a couple of minutes, wave at the wife (who still thinks you've got the right mechanical stuff) and thrust your body deep into the engine compartment to convey to everyone, who may pass by that you're really grabbing the bull by the horns.

But all you're really doing, of course, is cursing the auto-makers, who in the old days made cars where nothing was alien to a man, where sockets and wrenches fit, where a guy stood a fighting chance of accomplishing something.

Today it seems as if they want to rub our noses in all the unfathomable gadgetry and technology.

After 30 minutes of this ruse I slam the hood hard and pretend to wipe some non-existant grease off my hands as I enter the apartment.

The wife asks if I had any problems with the car. I reply, "Nope, but I gotta take the car for a road test just to make sure and drop into Canadian Tire for some oil."

But the sad truth is that I'm off to a garage where a computer will be checking on the condition of my car as a delighted garage-keeper waits to lighten my wallet considerably.

The one consolation however, is that I'm surrounded by other fellows who were also on their way to Canadian Tire or Walmart for a quart of oil. After all, the truth would just be too humiliating.


V1-N14 October 7, 2002

Stormy weather

The recent and now departed summer proved once again that Manitoba boasts some of the most unpredictable weather in the nation.

While global warming and various el-nino and nina factors no doubt have something to do with the wild and sudden swings in temperature that appear to be more frequent in the last decade, the simple fact is that weather forecasting is a tenuous science at best.

Last week, for example, the various meteorologists and weather diviners were unanimous in forecasting last Sunday as candidate for splendid warm sunny skies.

I should know better, but rose early Sunday morning in expectation of a splendid day to enjoy the outdoors.

Surprise, Surprise. No sun, no warmth and a day of carefully laid plans lay in ruins. Cloudy, dark, windy and cool the weather was dreadful.

So I'm swearing off all the forecasters once and for all. After all, this last year they haven't been able to correctly predict what the weather will be in five minutes from the time they start their forecasts.

I guess I'll take my cat's lead from now on. After he wakes up he'll stretch and quickly size-up the situation and take his cue from what is happening, or not happening, at that very moment. If it looks at all promising he'll set out, if not, he'll simply roll up in a ball and catch some more zzzzz's.

Apparently he has a better handle on things than all of Environment Canada.


V1-N16 October 21, 2002

An idea

I recently helped my uncle move into an apartment retirement home.

Among the things he had to dispose of was an extensive record collection and some hi-fi equipment he's accumulated over the years.

We thought of donating it to a charity or thrift store but much of what's donated ends up being thrown away because as one employee told me "stereo equipment and records take up too much space and no one buys the stuff."

It seemed a shame to simply consign the music and hi-fi equipment to the garbage or to places where they wouldn't be appreciated so I got an idea and visited a long term care home. I'd read that they were looking for ideas for non-physical activities residents could enjoy individually or as part of a larger group.

What could be easier than listening to music? What could be more enjoyable than playing it on a record player that made sense and reminded you of the good old days? The staff agreed and I set up my uncle's old stereo in the lounge, stocking it with old records for the seniors or staff to play.

The reviews are in, and both staff and seniors love being able to play their Chopin and Ellington records and reminisce. Apparently sometimes the music has even inspired a couple of impromptu waltzes. A recent request by a senior's residence here in Manitoba to do the same thing has me thinking I might be on to something. So if any of you have any old hi-fi or stereo equipment that is in good working condition and records—even 78s—please donÕt throw them out or send them to a thrift shop! Recycle them and spread some enjoyment around.


V1-N18 November 4, 2002

Experience: essential

While marketing types and profit hungry businesses have been keen to target seniors as a new market for everything from seniors' formula cough syrup to vacation packages, it appears that as a demographic group, seniors are viewed more as consumers than as essential and vital contributing components of the nation's social fabric.

News headlines recount daily the burgeoning numbers of retirees and their effect on an under-funded Canada Pension Plan where the number of recipients will exceed the number of those who are contributing to the plan.

Increased life expectancy and the ability of modern day medicine to combat a host of effects resulting from aging are also regularly cited as a contributing cause of the increased strain on the health care system.

The net effect of this type of media bias is to create a view among some younger people that seniors are more of an economic and social burden than a blessing.

It's time that the media extended its coverage of issues related to seniors and aging with some capacity to comprehend the tremendous and continual positive effect seniors have on the nation's economy and its overall quality of life.

One does not have to look too closely to findÊa senior who is participating in the civic, cultural, economic, intellectual or social life of the broader local, regional or national community.

From our chief justices to our prime minister, to the presidents of banks and the heads of many philanthropic foundations, the fundamental common denominator is age and experience.

As the old saying goes, "the proof is in the pudding."


V1-N21 November 25, 2002

Perspective is everything

The human capacity for optimism and humour even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary is, I believe, a source for celebration.

I've chosen a few recent anecdotes from the last month to provide some evidence of what I mean.

A friend whose fallen on hard times of heart and economic circumstances recently told me that no matter if he now had nothing, as his close friend, I could have half of that.

Last week I overheard a couple of women discussing the sudden chill that's fallen on Winnipeg. When one remarked that it was awfully cold for early November her companion remarked, "Well at least it's a dry cold."

Another acquaintance of mine related that he's been dressed down at a party for his apparent tendency to view the world in somewhat negative terms. Later he was approached by the person who had taken him to task in an apparent overture of peace. When asked by the other party if he would like to share a drink to show there were no hard feelings, my friend replied, "Yes, that would be nice, but I'd like mine in a glass that's half empty."

And finally there's the now famous joke about two chaps who go to the outhouse together, a twin-seater of course. When one of the fellows proceeds to lower his trousers a $5 bill happens to fall out of his rear pocket and into the abyss.

Just as his companion is about to offer his condolences, the victim of the unfortunate accident suddenly pulls out his wallet, takes out a $20 bill and throws it down the hole. In horror, his companion asks, "Why did you do that?" The other man turns to his friend and says, "Well you don't think I'm going down there for only $5 do you?"

It appears that perspective is everything.


V1-N23 December 9, 2002

The Christmas rush

With the holiday season rapidly approaching—15 shopping days and counting—it's hard not to get a little frazzled by the frantic pace of activity encountered on the streets, shopping centres and pretty well everywhere else as people attempt to get everything in order for a week of festivity.

As you get older of course there's a little less rushing around and a lot more pre-planning for the holidays.

Having been through the season dozens upon dozens of times of course, seniors are able to conserve their energy and pare down their to-do lists to the essentials.

Of course being retired and having the full run of shopping centres from opening to close seven days a week doesn't hurt either.

Pity the juniors out there still working, who somehow have to cram in all their shopping after work or on the weekends when the bloodthirsty hordes are in full feeding frenzy.

Sure we envy the young people— their speed and mobility—but, heck, seniors work smarter and thusly work a little less.

Perhaps that's why so many seniors still look fresh-faced and ready for a couple of more rounds on Christmas Day while the younger set seems to look a little ragged around the edges.


V1-N25 December 23, 2002

Merry Christmas to all my readers!

To you and yours. May you enjoy the best the season has to offer—the company of friends and family, the warmth of warm wishes for our neighbours and fellow citizens, and the hope for health, peace, prosperity and contentment for all mankind.