When Less is More

 My publication in an e-zine about luxury powdered beauty products.

https://heyzine.com/flip-book/b60765c512.html#page/86

 

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What did you Say?

  Aging is for the courageous, my Mom says. And I’ve only just begun. I’m 59. Over the course of the last 15 years, I’ve adapted to a few changes without getting too upset. To begin, there was the arthritis in my upper back. “No more yoga!” ordered my neurologist. “It is triggering migraines.” At least the shoulder stands were. No more. Grey hair came in my early 50’s. Every six weeks, I dye them over. I could be all grey underneath for all I know. The sagging skin. Certain body parts headed south. A little roll of fat on top of the belly. My 5k menopause weight gain. Speaking of “the change,” the retreat of the period was joyful. In the late 70’s, when I learned I’d be bleeding monthly for 30+ years, I cried. When it stopped, I smiled. There was the old sneezing and leaking problem. A little squeezing took care of that. But now, I’ve developed something I don’t like. Really don’t like. A hearing problem. Yes, wax builds up quickly. Yes, I’ve started to put sub-titles...
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White Privilege?!!

  Not again! I try to bring up the subject of white privilege with an American female, millennial. I need to find a better introduction (how exactly did I start?) since I always get a knee-jerk, white anxious* response. “I can’t have white privilege, because I’m Jewish,” she responded. Apples and oranges, I wish I had said.   A person can benefit from one privilege and suffer from another discrimination. What is white privilege ? We’re not talking about the Ku Klux Klan or Musk’s Nazi salute. Those are extremes-- important subjects to write about elsewhere. White privilege, as I see it, is an absence of barriers. Imagine a track-and-field hurdle competition. Each person has a set of barriers, higher or lower, according to their race, gender, dis/ability, religion, class, etc. White privilege is the ABSENCE of race related barriers. It doesn’t mean others weren’t added. I, for example, have the barriers of gender, health, and a turbulent childhood. On the other hand, I d...
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Fifty-eight!!

It’s my birthday. Fifty-eight. That means that I’m closer to 60 than 55. And definitely closer to 60 than 50. I put this blog on the net a couple of months ago. Given the title is, “Pushing sixty, one day at a time,” I guess this is a good day to post. Most of you know that I share my birthday with my brother John, who popped out about ten minutes before me, in the great blackout of the Northeast in 1965. So, we’re pushing sixty. I don’t feel like it. There are days when I feel like I’m pushing, that’s for sure. But, when I look back, faraway are the days when I felt like I was wading through water when I was simply walking. The bad old days of severe CFS, or chronic fatigue syndrome. These days, when I feel like I’m walking through water, it’s because I AM! Like yesterday. I went to the pool, and waded through the water to a lap lane. In one corner of the pool, there were women riding stationary bikes. A cardiac workout. For a split second, I was jealous. Then I told myself, n...
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