Don't Gel Too Soon

Anti-Aging Clinics, Short Sleeves and Chocolate - Hit Blogging Boomers Carnival #139 and See Why

You may (or may not) have noticed my absence lately; I've been too slammed to sit down and write respectably.  Even so I could not, in good conscience, skip my turn to offer the wisdom of so many of my favorite baby boom bloggers -- all part of the Blogging Boomers Blog Carnival.  They range from Environmental activism to an old old joke.  So here they are, in all their glory:

Barbara Weibel at Hole in the Donut produced a video to show us the good work being done by the Peace River Wildlife Center in Punta Gorda Florida, where they educate humans as well as rescuing animals.

There are a several posts dealing with aging this week, too.

The FDA is concerned about the growing use of testosterone by anti-aging clinics seeking to restore youthfulness to Baby Boomers and by the abuse of such drugs in sports.  SoBabyBoomer.com tells us that it's no surprise the FDA is being so vigilant. 

Beware! At Writing Without Periods l, Jenny warns of the tricky seduction of mini-chocolate bars in "My Name is Jenny And I'm a Chocoholic."

There's something about aging that makes us feel more vulnerable.  Laura Lee has a great guest post this week about those kinds of feelings.

Then LifeTwo discusses recent study that has found that a woman is six times more likely to be separated or divorced soon after a diagnosis of cancer or multiple sclerosis than if a man in the relationship is the patient. In short women stand behind their man but the opposite isn't true.

And what about those in business?  For many small businesses, cash flow is a constant issue. Andrea J. Stenberg at The Baby Boomer Entrepreneur might have the answer for you when she asks Do customers owe you money?

Meanwhile, over at Contemporary Retirement, Ann has a 10-step guide to finding your passion:

And when you need some fashion therapy, the three-quarter length sleeve jacket is a gorgeous addition to any wardrobe, but there’s a lot of confusion about what to wear with it. The Glam gals have the answer at Fabulous after 40. 

Vaboomer tells us:  You always remember your First Kiss!  Read more at :

Next, try this:  sounds like a joke, but it’s not. An old guy walks into a bar…

Finally, my own post - a meditation on my youngest child's thirtieth birthday.

More next week.   Check in at Vaboomer to see what's going on.

When Kids Grow Up: Their Landmark Birthdays and Mom's Heart

My baby turned 30 on Saturday.  He's a remarkable man and has been independent and away from home (across the country, actually) for a long time.  But he's still my only youngest child. 

It was a landmark for him, and he had a great day, I think, while I spent much of that day in a state of astonishing gratitude.

That face would be enough, right?  The amazing thing is that for every smile, grin, laugh, great story, amazing artwork, funny home-made Halloween costume (How many second-graders dress up as Agent Cooper from Twin Peaks, after all?) there are a hundred more.  He's a wealth of wonders.

I have so many friends who are close to his age, or younger, and I've often tried to describe what it feels like to see a beloved boy grow into a fine, honorable, creative, funny, loving and talented man.  But they're worrying about preschool and OT and nannies and play dates and work-life balance and it sounds so far away - probably frighteningly so.

So, as I have so often before, I'm telling you instead. There are few honors more moving than noting a day like this with joy. Look at this photo - a moment of pure eloquence as a young man toasts his big brother at his wedding.  You can see how much they like each other; that's a gift too.

I could tell many stories about the little boy up there and the man, too, but they are his stories to tell.  I'm here, rather, to tell you, and myself, one more time, about my own sense of the pure honor of being a parent and riding along as our kids find their way.  Through good times and bad, success and ... not so much .... their presence is a blessing. 

So.  Here I am, in adequately trying to tell people -- who already know the wonders of parenthood -- about someone they've never met.  Because, as he enters his 31st year, I'm just so glad I know him.

Happy birthday Dan.

Memories of Peter, Paul, and Mary Travers

The first time I ever heard Peter Paul and Mary I was 15 and spending the summer at a writing program at Exeter Academy - the first year they ever let "girls" into the school at all. I remember loving Blowin' in the Wind, If I Had a Hammer and of course, Puff.   I remember visiting another student's home in Concord where her older brother, already in college, told me that the three were just "popularizers of Bob Dylan songs" and scornfully complaining  that I should be listening to Dylan not them.  (I didn't find Bob Dylan until later - junior year, I guess.)  I thought he was nuts  To me, Peter Paul and Mary were an introduction to  music that was about things I cared about: civil rights, war, peace and love --  from a more political perspective.

From then on, through high school, into college and "out into the world" Peter Paul and Mary held a special place in my life.  We seemed to cross paths often.  We played their music all the time, of course.  My sister and I saw them at a summer concert in Pittsburgh (my long-suffering mom driving us, of course.)  I remember watching them sing at the 1963 March on Washington,  and later seeing them at Wolf Trap with a blind date.  And, most profoundly, I remember seeing them quite literally, save lives in Grant Park at the Democratic Convention in Chicago in 1968.  Hordes of demonstrators were coming over a bridge into the part of the park right outside the Hilton.  There had been trouble, lots of trouble, for at least days and this would be another terrible confrontation.  Then, from nowhere, Peter, Paul and Mary started to sing.  The demonstrators slowly converged around their platform, diverted from certain misery.  It was quite a thing. 

Here's what else I remember.  Mary Travers herself, who died today.  She was a powerful model: not just her deep, resonant voice but also her powerful, sure presence, on stage and off. She was brave and funny and looked amazing.  We all knocked ourselves out trying to have straight hair like hers: ironed it, slept with it wrapped around orange juice cans.   She was a powerful presence. 

Of course, part of her power, and that of Peter and Paul was their commitment.  Where they were needed, they came.  Civil rights marches, peace marches, the McCarthy presidential campaign, even regional and local union struggles.  It was a signal to the rest of us: if we can show up, so can you.  And we did.  As another friend wrote to me tonight:  "I just saw the news story.  Can't believe how much of our history was tied up with them."   

Making my way out of my office, thinking about writing this, I started singing to myself: "Leavin' on a Jet Plane." But I couldnt finish.  I was close to tears.  It's happened so often this summer - icons of my life fading from view.  Teddy Kennedy, Walter Cronkite, Robert McNamara, Don Hewitt, Ellie Greenwich, Patrick Swayze just yesterday, and now Mary.  Each representing so many lives; so many memories.

I keep writing here because somehow I don't want to stop.  This ought to do it, though.  (The other guy is John Denver)

For Ellie Greenwich, Who Really WAS Leader of the Pack, With Thanks

When our kids were little, we used to sing.  All the time.  And early on, many of the songs they loved were written by this woman:  Ellie Greenwich. She was a tough cookie I think.  She was also one of the great song writers of her generation.  Ever heard Be My Baby? ("Bee my, bee my bay bee, my one and only baybee...")  Chapel of Love? ("Goin' to the Cha pull and we're gonna' get ma a a reed") River Deep, Mountain High ?("Do I love you my oh my, river deep, mountain high" that was Tina Turner.)  Ever hear of girl groups?  Then you've heard of Ellie Greenwich.  There's a reason she's in the Song Writers Hall of Fame.  She died August 26, the same day as Senator Kennedy, so I'm a little late, but I have a lot to thank her for.

Freshman year we lived in a dorm with a big porch facing Seelye Hall, the main classroom building.  We'd put our stereo speakers in the windows over the porch and blasted  whatever we liked at the time, especially in the spring, as the snow melted and spirits rose.  One of our classics was "Leader of the Pack."  All of us, the Gang of Four as we were then, could re relied upon, for no reason, to belt out "Hey there, where'd you meet him?"  to which another would reply (in song, of course, and I know you know this) "I met him at the candy stoh - ore."   It sounds so silly, doesn't it?  But it wasn't. 

The tribal music Greenwich gave us was alive with the spirit that was all of us, before the War tore everything apart, when we just had fun and our minds were full of ideas and ambitions, and songs, and romantic daydreams, and songs, and learning how to be grown ups (slowly) and songs.  And her songs were so universal, so full of a love of living and living for love - way before we even heard of our sister alums Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan.  Somehow, as things became more serious, Doo Wa Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Doo didn't flow off the tongue so easily.  That's why I was so glad when a Broadway musical, Leader of the Pack, opened in the 80's and gave us another chance - and a great cast album, full of many of her greatest songs.

My own favorite is all tangled up in a memory.  It was a sunny fall day and my six-year-old and I were walking down a street someplace in the Village.  And we were arm-in-arm.  And our walk had a rhythm - right feet at the same time, left feet at the same time, just the two of us.   And the rhythm?  It came because, together, crossing the nearly 30 years between us, together, we were singing -Da Doo Ron Ron." 

Not quite this great, but not bad, either. So thanks Ellie. And the rest of you - see for yourselves.

Sons Really Do Get Married, and Their Parents Really Do Love It, (and Nobody Cried)

There we are, our sweet sweet family with it's newly married eldest and his lovely brand-new wife.   It's an out-of-body experience to watch your son get married, and this was a wonderful one.  I'd been very nervous:  would it go well after the two of them had worked so hard on every detail, would they have fun, would we cry, would I look ok (well, after all, those photos last forever.)

It all did go well.  The groom (in the middle) was so joyous and ready, his speech so sure and calm; his wife so lovely and pleased, his brother (on the right)offering the loveliest, funniest, just-rightest toast ever.  There were only 80 of us so over the weekend we became a kind of tribe, tables shifting as people moved around enjoying the event, and one another. 

It was a great joy to me to see how much the boys feel for each other.  I have, today, two of my dearest wishes: that my children be good friends and that each son find a partner who is wonderful, honorable and loving.  So far so good.

I'd been thinking for months about the power of time, of change.  One of my friends commented on my Facebook page that "I remember when Josh was xeroxing his little hands in the office!" I do too.  And I thought I'd be consumed by those kinds of thoughts.  But this just felt right, timely and good for everyone.  No nostalgia, not "where are you going my little one, little one"  "sunrise, sunset" thoughts at all.  Just gratitude at the happiness and love that surrounded the bride, the groom and the rest of us.  May it always be so.

Days Before a Son Marries; Mothers-in-Law Get Jittery Too

These two sweeties will be married on Sunday.  One of them is my son.  My first born.  My baby.  I don't know why I've been so reluctant to write about it; it's a beautiful relationship and a joyous moment in all of our lives. But I have been silent, or almost so, about it for some time.  Can't seem to let myself write.  My sweet friend Karin Lippert, noting my cryptic tweet, wrote:  

Congratulations... mixed emotions are the new normal, the new black? No, we have all always had overwhelming,wonderful emotions about our kids...  

She's right, I guess.  The mix isn't between wishing well and not so well, it's between joy and respect for the place these two have found together in the world, and my profound sense of time passing, and of change.  I'll keep you posed when I can.

You're Doing What? Trains, Planes and Automobiles (and Us)

It's pouring in Chicago.  We arrived early this morning at the end of Phase One of our Great Adventure.  So you don't feel uninformed, here's the story:

1. Our son is getting married next Sunday in San Francisco.
2. My husband has a (we hope recently repaired) detached retina and can't fly until we know the repair worked.
3. If we had waited until we were sure the surgery was successful, it would have been too late to drive if we had had to. 
4. We are already fairly broke from tuition and the slow economy so why not spend even more money and take the train? 
5. (really 4b) it turns out that the train is very expensive. 
6. We don't have a choice so why fret about 4a? 
7. There were no seats on the train until Chicago. 
8. I drove 700 miles yesterday to get us from DC to Chicago to get on the train (retina detachment makes it hard to split the driving.)
9. Our family doesn't know we took the train because the groom was worried about his dad's eye so our early arrival will be stealthy. (don''t tell)
10. At least all this is distracting me from the sentimental squishiness that keeps sneaking up on me. 
11.   You are now ready to return to the present where 

Rick and I are in the Metropolitan Lounge at Union Station in Chicago waiting for the Southwest Chief.  You can see the route above.  Actually I'm more excited than annoyed - it is something we would have never done if we didn't need to.  I can't picture the accommodations - I'm betting on a cross between all those black and white thrillers where people were always chasing each other up and down the aisles and flirting in the bed-sitting rooms and who knows what.  We'll see.  Meanwhile we're in the lounge with about a billion people on an "America by Train" group, with some smoker's coughs, name tags for all, and a pretty friendly environment.  I'm too tired to be friendly though.  Unusual for me.

I will try to post this afternoon but they don't have wireless on the train (WHAAAAT????) and I'm having trouble pairing my blackberry so it's a bit sketchy.  If I can't post I'll keep a diary and post it when I can.   Wish us luck.

Playing With the Big Boys: Bruce Springsteen's New Drummer and the Rest of Us

Does the young drummer in this photo look familiar? He's definitely not Bruce's long-time drummer The Mighty Max Weinberg. He is, however, a Weinberg, Max's son Jay.. I learned about this from my own son, who IM'd

"Did you know that Max Weinberg's son is now the drummer for the E Street Band?  It's a great story - little coverage.  Seriously - he is 18 and no one has picked up that an ageless band now has an 18-year-old on drums."

He's right.  It's a wonderful story, for many reasons.  Just because it is, first of all.  But also because all parents love it when their kids go into the family business; at least I think they do.  That's not all, though.  To be fair, Jay is only going to tour with them when his dad has to stay in LA to help launch the new Conan O'Brien Tonight Show. Even so, there's something lovely about Bruce calling and inviting him to join the band. Anyone who's ever watched a sound check or read about Bruce knows he's got high standards; this was NOT a sentimental decision. Jay can play the drums.

So why do I love this?  A demonstration of that kind of trust by a national legend close to three times  his age is pretty impressive.  The idea of two generations on stage together as peers is an example of something that's been important to me for years: alliances across generations in all manner of venues.

I've been writing both here and on SVMoms about the tensions between Boomers and Millennials.  There is a growing stress between us.  Just a month ago I heard a young political social media genius - a serious one - mock the Boomers who claimed they helped to end the Vietnam War.  "Dead soldiers ended the war, not you guys." he said with determination.  Permutations of that attitude abound; although perhaps less so in families where parenting was respectful and strong and included a history of those times and a modest explanation of what we were trying to do.  

President Obama, whose attitudes and capabilities I admire, tends to imply that it's time to ditch, at the least, a lot of the rhetoric and style of that time.  I don't disagree.  All that I want is for those of us in my generation and the younger people whose core values we share to be free to travel across the boundaries of style and execution to be allies and friends rather than adversaries.  That kind of sharing emerges from respect in both directions, from engaging younger people more as peers than acoytes.  That's what the Obama campaign did, and look what happened.

I've been fortunate, because of my relationship with my sons, because I've worked in the Internet world for ten years -- so much with younger people, and because I am part of a community full of young families, to be able to do the same.  But the divisions are growing for many of us, and they're sad.

So when Bruce, who has so often spoken for so many, crosses two-thirds of his life to, at 60+, add an 18-year-old drummer to his band, it's an example and a message for which I am grateful.  No one who knows his music would ever think he would add a drummer to send a message; he takes his music, and his fans, too seriously for that.  He is, however, reminding us all that, 18 or 80 - talent, music, dreams, ideas, faith or fun, the walls need not be so high.  Whether it's campaigning for a candidate, working for women's rights, writing a poem, cooking a meal, building a house, growing tomatoes or making music, we are all pooer for the walls we build, and richer for the gifts we share. 

Attachment Parents, Anxious Parents, Sanctimommies and Skinned Knees

This morning I helped to produce a conference on parenting and "over" parenting.  It was designed to help anxious young parents who are often under pressure to be "better" and more attentive than their peers.  They feed on each other and worry all the time, and in cases beyond my community (I don't see it here) they compete, sometimes with cruelty, to see who's the best.

If you're a "mommy blog" reader you'll see it all the time.  One of my favorites is Liz Gumbinner, proprietor of Mom-101.  She has a gentle, loving, yet often hilarious and almost always moving take on life as a parent.  She also has a keen-eyed abhorrance for what she calls " Sanctimommies."  She writes about them often, and their thoughtless comments and judgments.  No matter how much we detest what they do, which is more often judgmental than well-meaning, they can get to us.  They plant scary, painful doubts, especially when we are vulnerable.

I remember this torment so well.  You don't want your child to feel bad.  You don't want her to fall off the monkey bars.  You certainly don't want him to be sad because he lost a T-Ball game and didn't get a medal or got a lower grade than the kid who sits next to him and didn't get a sticker on his paper.  It's terrible.  I think what's worse though is over-compensating to preserve delicate feelings.  

And that's what much of this conference was aimed at.  Speakers told parents that kids needed some autonomy, needed their own territory.   That protecting them prevented them from learning how to solve problems and bounce back from the adversity that is part of life.  They also made an interesting point that I think is controversial but tough to contradict.  YES, moms and dads are both important, but dads have a different role.  And mothers too often, in their frequent role as gatekeepers between the kids and daddy, set standards that are too squishy, not allowing the dads to find their own way to deal with their children.

This does not mean there is no overlap - nurturing dad and outward-facing mom.  But both perspectives - female and male, have value.  Many times as our kids grew up, my husband and I stopped one another from going too far in one way or the other.  I wanted to send money to bail them out of a jam.  My husband would remind me that if we ran to the rescue we were telling them that we didn't think they could take care of themselves. "If they really need help", he'd say, "they'll ask for it."

Other times he'd go nuclear in the punishment department or refuse permission for something perfectly acceptable because he didn't think first.  That was my cue to step in and moderate things.  I often thought sadly of friends raising kids alone, without this valuable balance.

I guess this is just a meditation on parenting in the 21st Century.  It's painful to see wonderful parents whose instincts are sound and who love their kids get tangled up in these issues, and it was wonderful to watch the dialog today and the passions in the conversations that continued over lunch and will go forward in several after-sessions.  In fact, it was very Web 2.0.  The speakers may have set things off, but now they're working with one another, strengthening not only their families but also the community around them.

Mommy Wisdom Across the InterWeb

This week I took dinner over to a couple who just became parents of an infant son.  It had been a long time coming and it was very moving to sit in their living room and sense the peace and - to be honest - blessedness of their parenthood.  I started out "doing something nice" by taking dinner and of course got far more out of it myself.  Being in that room is a memory I will cherish.

I told them about all the parenting tips offered in virtual baby showers I'd been part of, and about all the other posts I'd done about my children and my life as a mother.  Then I kind of promised I'd send them the links.  I figured, though, that as long as I was pulling it all together I'd make a little package for anyone else looking for the kind of parenting advice that A) might be really good and B) you can ignore without hurting anyone's feelings.  So here they are -- and as The Band wrote, "take what you need and leave the rest."

First of all, since you have a son, here's a Julie's gift: a blog list filled with wisdom -- a virtual baby shower of advice and warnings about raising boys.   There's a list of "boy songs" too.  That's a bonus.  If you want to read my contribution, it's here.

And what about just plain good advice about being a mom?  That was the first shower, and it's full of funny and often very moving posts.  Here's mine.

This one's kind of funny, and will look like it's a million years away - but it's fun: what to do when a second kid shows up and makes everything crazy all over again.  I wrote for that one, too.

My favorite is the one whose subject was "memories of the first thirty days."  It was an emotional whopper; once I started I had trouble stopping.  Here's what I remember.

Finally, as you enter this amazing new life, a preview of what it's like when your kids are grown and gone.  They're from December of 2006 and this past Thanksgiving.  For some reason both struck a nerve with readers; it's an amazing adventure you've embarked upon - and it's glorious in all its phases.  I wish you half the joy I've known.