If one is to believe what they read in the press, it is now unhip to be a feminist. I don’t know how this happened, but I’m saying it loud, I’m a feminist and I’m proud! I wish it sounded as catchy as, Say it loud! I’m black and I’m proud! But, I’m no James Brown. Every movement has its downsides. Although we still earn less then men do, women in corporate boardrooms no longer harken back to a time when alligators roamed the earth freely. We make more money than ever, but we work harder than ever. We wait longer to have children, are a lot more tired when we do have them, and spend a lot less time with them than we’d like. Some opt to keep working while others choose to re-evaluate; but we get to make the choice. Read more
In 2006 when I surveyed the mountains of boxes and items that filled the small house I had just moved into, I became overwhelmed with the amount of “stuff” it took for me to live. I started downsizing. The kimono stand went to a local Asian school, beds and couches were scooped up by college students, and sundry kitchen items disappeared into the trunks of passing cars whose owners had spotted the “FREE” sign on my open garage door. I felt lighter, and very grown up.
Last year, my personal improvement movement took on a more “green” aspect. I use my own cloth shopping bags. Plastic bags are banished from my existence. My cat is previously owned. Read more
On a regular basis, our six authors share their girlfriendly points of view in individual posts, blogging about whatever strikes their fancy. Once a month, we pick a subject where we all chime in. In this first group post, we reflect on courage and stepping into the light. Please continue by reading the posts below.
Hi. My Name is Prudence, and I’m a Baby Boomer.
It’s not simple being a Boomer. You have to Take It Easy – especially these days with the less-than perfect balance and vision.
You have to live One Day at a Time – I’ve never figured this out, so we’ll just pass on it.
And, you have to Keep Coming Back, It Works!
Okay, that last one is bullshit.
“Wait until you turn 60,” a friend said to me recently. It was a dire warning of things to come because she was having a hard time with it. I tried to imagine that world of dread and loneliness (she’s single, I’m married); I tried to think back to that time, when 40 was approaching, and I wanted to hang on to my thirties—it had been a decade so full of possibilities, growth, fun and accomplishments, I didn’t want it to end. But the forties turned out to be fine, too: more possibility, more growth, more fun, more accomplishments—just getting better all the time.
As the fifth decade approached, I have to admit that the feeling of sliding gleefully into more, more, more! softened a bit as the mentally prepared for, but always unexpected changes began to kick in Read more
Becoming a woman of a certain age caused me to pause and take a look around. The number 50 appeared like a big round sound calling me to prayer. It posed the questions of “What’s been, what’s so and what will be?”
In the stair-step years leading up to 50, I’d lost my mother to emphysema, my lover and partner of ten years to another woman, my grandmother to suicide and my best friend of 30 years to Lou Gehrig’s Disease. So much of my personal history had been wrapped up in those four women. This life moment demanded review and renewal.
I don’t hide my age, but I don’t flaunt it either. Starting and participating in Fifty is the new… is very much an act of bravery. In a way, I’m coming out of the closet. Not that the door was pulled shut, my age just hasn’t been all that important.
When people find out that I’m in my fifties, 51 to be precise, they usually display some degree of shock. “Really? No way!” Then comes the unintentionally impolite guessing game, “I thought you were 35, 38, maybe early forties at most.” I feel guilty taking credit for my perceived youthi-ness. Read morekeep looking »