I Never Thought I’d Live to See this day: Donald Trump


Electors do the right thing.

Electors do the right thing.

I was a child of the 60’s. I vaguely remember President Dwight Eisenhower talking to the nation on TV. I watched the Vietnam War on the evening news for years and years. I grieved the assassinations of both Kennedy brothers. I never thought I’d live to see this day. 

I remember Martin Luther King, alive and later dead. I watched in dismay as people demonstrated in this country, peacefully and violently. I never thought I’d live to see this day. 

Most of all, I remember Richard Nixon, forcing to resign from office because of covering up a robbery at the Watergate, I never thought I’d live to see this day.

But Watergate is nothing compared with the corruption, lies, and deceit of this man taking office. He has not one redeeming quality. Not one ounce of goodness. The only emotion he seems to express is revenge.

I also watched with real hope when Barack Obama was elected for the first time.

I thought, our country has overcome prejudice. Now, things will change for the better. I never thought I’d live to see this day. 

At first I laughed when I watched Fox news and heard Rush Limbaugh on the radio. I thought, nobody can take these people seriously. I never thought I’d live to see this day.

I dubiously watched Donald Trump on TV. I cringed when he imitated a person with disabilities, I found his rallies reminiscent of films I’d seen of Adolph Hitler. (Having distant relatives who perished in the Holocaust, I’ve read diaries and stories from that time. I’ve listened to people who were living witnesses to that time. He also had victory rallies.)

There are too many similarities. People thought Hitler was a silly fool who couldn’t possibly last. He suppressed the press, and targeted groups of people: Jews, Gypsies, Homosexuals, mentally and physically disabled, and those brave enough to resist him. They never thought they’d  live to see that day.

Too many perished because they were bystanders.

Why do people like this man? He preys on people’s fears. They are afraid that “Isis” is coming to their shores, and they think this narcissistic dictator is going to keep them out. They think they will get rich like him. And who really knows how rich he is? No tax return, and he can’t discern between the truth and a lie.

People think him promoting “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holiday shows he’s a good Christian. This man stands for the total opposite of any religion.

Now, I understand how evil people get in power. They masquerade as something they’re not, and work on people’s fears. They suppress the free press. They promise revenge on anyone who opposes them. They tell people they lied to them and they laugh at them. Those followers are so confused they still don’t acknowledge his shallow soul.

Most of all they tell lies, and after a while the lies start to make sense. Say 2+2=5 long enough and people will start to believe you. Read “1984” by George Orwell. It’s all there.

If somehow, any elector read this post, do the right thing.

5 Ways you know your days are Numbered: An analysis of old TV shows, and deceased guests who are more relatable than the current generation of “stars”.  



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1. You are watching Me TV. You feel young when watching these shows. You are the exact same age as Jerry Mathers who played “The Beaver.” Your father reminded you of Beavers father, and your mother had the same values. (Except she didn’t wear heels and pearls. She also had a job  outside the house, and wasn’t excited about cooking.

2.. Although you can appreciate Jimmy Fallon’s talent, you  prefer the guests on old Dick Cavett shows like: the late Marlon Brando, and Charles Heston (before he was president of the NRA, but maybe that’s when his Alzheimers had already started. You hope so because you loved him as Moses.)

3.   It does still hurt to watch old Johnny Carson shows because he was a big part of your life for so many years. Even before he was on the Tonight show you remember him on “Who do you Trust.” You remember the very first ” Tonight Show”. He kept you company from the time you were a teenager until you were solidly middle-aged.

4.  You go to a concert featuring Paul Anka. He shows old videos of Sammy Davis Jr. smoking a cigarette and singing. It’s hard to imagine a time when it was cool and sexy to smoke a cigarette. Paul Anka was “the kid” amongst the Rat Pack. People like Frank Sinatra,  Sammy Davis Jr., and Dean Martin. The good thing is he puts on a dynamic show and sings with a strong, good, familiar voice. So, what happened to music? Really?

5. It bothers you when you realize you’ve spent more time with people on TV than you did with real live people. You wish you had videos of your mom and dad you could play, but you don’t because they weren’t famous. You remember a time when you thought they were really “old” and couldn’t appreciate my good music. Just like my kids think about me.

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My Prayer: I did not write this. I found it in some old papers. I thought it was good advice! 


Lord, you know I am growing older.  Keep me from becoming talkative and possessed with the idea that I must express myself on every subject.  Release me from the craving to straighten out everyone’s affairs.

Keep me from the recital of endless detail. Give me strength to get to the point. Seal my lips when I am inclined to tell of my aches and pains. They are increasing, as you know, with the passing years, and the love to speak of them grows sweeter as time goes by.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong! Make me thoughtful but not nosy; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom and experience, you have given me, it does seem a pity not to use it all. 

But you know Lord, I want to have a few friends in this life and the next

Amen 

Ghosts linger around my Passover table 


The Passover of 2016 was tinged with sadness because I couldn’t help thinking of my childhood.  My parents and grandparents faded from sight; one right after the other, mostly without warning.

Grandma was a small, stout lady, with a face that I can’t really ever forget because I look so much like her, especially in my 66th year. My grandfather, was short in stature, but high on everyone’s respect list. He had a head full of beautiful white hair.

I remember going along with my tall, handsome, adored daddy to pick them up at their apartment. My grandmother would have her coat on, and announce to my grandfather that “the machine is outside, and it was time to go.” Why she didn’t just refer to it as the car was a mystery to me. I do remember she wore red old-fashioned shoes, a longish skirt, and a long sleeve blouse. She always carried a  black purse that held Dentyne gum. She would offer this special treat randomly to all her grandchildren.

We’d arrive at my house where we ate the standard dinner we always ate at holidays, it didn’t really matter which one. Mom was in charge and she didn’t appreciate any help.

There was always chopped liver and matzah ball soup, my mother’s tie to her ethnic background. We’d all gathered around  the kitchen table, my grandparents sitting next to each other on one side, my mother, wearing her blue apron, always up during the meal serving us.  My father and

My dapper grandpa, Harry Zelivyansky

My dapper grandpa, Harry Zelivyansky

My Grandmother, Miriam Zelivyansky when she was young.

My Grandmother, Miriam Zelivyansky when she was young.

Marilyn, Mom, Dad and me .

Marilyn, Mom, Dad and me .

My sister Marilyn and I with my dad outside of Grandma and Grandpa's house,

My sister Marilyn and I with my dad outside of Grandma and Grandpa’s house,

L to R: Eileen, Dad holding me, and Marilyn.

L to R: Eileen, Dad holding me, and Marilyn.

two sisters and I would take our familiar seats. It was usually turkey, sometimes a roast, salad, sweet potatoes, and a vegetable.

The Seder I remember was not too formal. I do remember my grandfather singing some prayers. He had a beautiful voice that I can almost hear when I close my eyes and concentrate.

Little did I know that one day my grandparents and parents would be long gone, but their presence would always linger; they’re always around me, like a loving purple aura.

This year I particularly missed them all, but I’m grateful for the love that is still there.

 

A humorous look at finding the Fountain of Youth: at the health club


Two years ago, I made a New Year’s Resolution  to exercise every day  and it’s stuck. Why? I like the high! It gets the blood to my head, releases endorphins. Half-way through I start feeling marvelous.

I look at exercise as an alternative to the FDA’s solution,  pills.

I had to find my own way until  I figured out a routine that suited me.

Seeking the Fountain of Youth at the high-priced Health Club

I’d been doing swimming aerobics at the health club pool for a while, but I thought, why not try for the heavy-duty exercise, the land exercise. Why not try a personal training group?

The first step was signing a contract, and handing over my credit card.

An extra $15o.00 plus monthly membership gave me entry into the newly formed group.

The second step was evaluating my fitness

The next day I headed up to the gym to get my fitness tested. I had to wear headgear that looked like a scuba mask to check my oxygen level on the treadmill. I carefully placed a little gizmo into my bra to record my heartbeat.

When I started by walking as fast as I could, the heart gizmo did not read my heartbeat. I went several times to a back room to put this heart monitor  closer to my heart and aging, sagging bosoms, but to no avail.

” I have another appointment coming, and you’ll just have to try tomorrow,” said the sheepish, red-faced  trainer who was about 19.

I  slowly limped out of the gym, thinking I was already a failure at land based exercise.

The next day, the gym manager, a shapely muscled 24-year old woman, figured out another way to detect my pulse. She read it off the machine somehow, or just made the whole thing up. I was glad to find out I wasn’t heartless or clinically dead.

Joining the personal training class

The next day I showed up bright and early to attend my first class. It was a variety of women of all persuasions. I was the oldest, but I wasn’t the heaviest! They all were running on the treadmills, so I joined them.

Then, the trainer rounded us all up to start our real exercise session.

The affable trainer, Greg, running the session was like a friendly drill sergeant. I furiously rowed on a rowing machine,  rapidly bounced a rubber ball off the wall,  held a plank position, and startled the entire gym when I awkwardly released the weights on a machine and sounded a loud clang.

The worst was the stair-stepper

I would only recommend the stair-stepper for people trying to get information out of a terrorist. They just have to make the thing automatically go really fast. I seriously feared for my life while on this contraption. As my heart began to jump out of my chest, I yelled,” How do I stop this damn thing.” After finding the emergency stop, I thankfully climbed off.

I did last about three months, and I did attempt things I thought I could never do again, like 100 sit ups, burpees, planks and push ups. My stomach was shrinking. I was proud of myself, but I wasn’t  looking forward to the personal training sessions. After a while,  I arrived later and later . Finally,  I didn’t come at all.

So after spending extra money, and torturing myself, I discontinued my contract.

What I needed to do was accept my age and have fun! 

I decided to try things like bike spinning, Zumba dancing, yoga,  running on the elliptical ( while I watch TV with my headphones), and lifting weights with Silver Sneaker (Medicare sponsored) exercise groups.

I also bike ride with my husband, take long walks in the woods, get down on the floor with my grandson and play like a two-year old.

To be truthful, I was never admired for my svelte figure. But I do believe the Fountain of Youth resides within yourself. The right exercise for you, and attitude are important parts of it.

I do have great blood pressure, and an athletic pulse. I have a lot of energy and feel great. Okay, I’m not at an ideal weight, but it’s been worse.

Taking those extra steps makes it possible not to keep 30 or 40 pills organized.

Bill Cosby’s betrayal


 

Anybody in their 60’s remembers Bill Cosby from the very beginning. He used to be very funny. He told entertaining stories about growing up in Philadelphia with “Fat Albert.”

His next memorable show was  “I Spy.” There he was playing a partner to Robert Culp, and he was the coolest spy.

He had a very charming rapport with children. He had a show for awhile where he asked them questions, Art Linkletter style.  Then, there was the Pudding Pop commercials. It made you go out and buy them up.

The final show was the “Bill Cosby Show.”  Back in the 80’s, many families looked forward to watching that show together. Nobody was DVRing back then, and it was a great loss to miss an episode.

Lately, I noticed he wasn’t funny anymore

In the last few years, when I watched his stand up on TV, I noticed he wasn’t funny anymore. It was mostly him preaching. I wondered what happened, but I attributed it to just not relating to the average person any more. He had to be worth millions.

Now, that I’ve found out how he victimized so many women I am flabbergasted. Why would he do that? In reality, he could’ve had all the women he wanted. Why?  So many women coming out against him is hard to ignore. Except Cosby thinks they’re all making it up.

And he’s suing 7 of them? My guess is he’s in complete denial. Somehow, he’s rationalized the whole thing.

Sexually abusing a person, man or woman, is unforgivable.

I feel sorry for his wife and daughters, but he deserves to go to jail. I wonder if his celebrity and money will get him out of it. Is there a jury who will convict him?

What do you think?

Do you practice age discrimination against your peers and yourself?


A beautiful, positive woman. my 93-year old Aunt Ruth

In this youth oriented society, it is not cool to be old. As someone I know said, It’s knowing what comes next.”

After turning 64 last year, I got the nerve to go into a Senior Center in my suburb which is mainly conservative. Not exactly my cup of tea, but why not?

I asked the director, “Am I too young to join this place.” She looked at me with a funny look; probably because I am way over 55 and don’t look as young as I think I do. So, I joined.

I joined the Senior Chorus, and its been a fairly good experience. They go sing at nursing homes

and rehab centers twice a month. I get to go out in the audience and talk to the people. It is community service. The people in the chorus are pretty nice, and it is fun. The music is just as old as the chorus, but there has only been one song in a year I never heard before. Most of the other songs I already know by heart. I know anyone under 50 would probably not know all the words like I do.

I am still not accepting my age.

Today, I went to a style show at the Center and positivity shone through 

Some members were  modeling clothes from a thrift store that gives their proceeds to cancer.

First, we said the “Pledge of Allegiance” which I haven’t said in a long time. (I wonder if my kids learned the words in school because they don’t say it anymore at schools.)

We ate this great meal because they all brought homemade stuff. Who can argue with that? I, not being exactly a cooking person, bought store-bought sugar-laden cookies.

A group from the chorus came out and sang an old song. They also did a little dance. One of the audience members was quietly laughing at them which I resented. It might not have been Broadway worthy, but at least they were trying!

The ladies came out and modeled the clothes, and they looked like a million bucks. They stood up straight acted proud, and smiled. Some of them wore those clothes beautifully. You still can look good after the age of 65. I guess it all has to do with a positive attitude.

The last model came out in a walker, and lip synced to the song, “Second Hand Rose.” That was a lady with a positive attitude and spirit. She was really giving it all she had.

Suddenly, I looked around and realized, like it or not, I fit in with this group. I am no spring chicken, but that doesn’t mean I’m less valuable than people younger than me. I think it’s too bad that this society devalues age so much, and I have to feel this way.

Inside I don’t feel old because I am physically active, and don’t take tons of medicine. I use exercise and singing as my defense against physically falling apart, and so far it’s working!

What do you think? How do you think people should accept their age. Should they join places like Senior Centers, or is that admitting you’re over the hill?

The enclosed picture is of a close relative of mine who is 93 years old. She has always looked at the bright side of life, and it shows.