Recently Fifty is the New celebrated its third anniversary. Wow! Three years? Time sure does fly when you’re sharing the virtual stage with smart, witty, passionate women.
When we started out there were few, but these days “midlife blogs” are everywhere. Sometimes, when I want to throw in the blogazine towel, I find myself inspired by the writings of Carine, Connie, Christie, Melissa and Pru, such amazing women, and deeply touched by the community that supports us. Readers, both old and new, you are the reason we do this. Your warm bear hugs and smart comments keep us keeping on. We thank you.
There have been so many excellent posts in the past three years that it’s time we reached into the archives. For part one of our anniversary celebration, I’ve asked the Bloggerinas to pick a favorite post written by a fellow contributor.
Here are their selections. Enjoy the “best of” Fifty is the New… and let us know what you think!
A telephone survey has Prudence coming to grips with middle age and beyond
Recently, a marketing firm contacted me looking for a Baby Boomer willing to talk candidly about a variety of subjects ranging from plastic surgery to (ahem) performance-enhancing supplements.
Never shy about broadcasting my opinions, I agreed. I am, after all, a member of the me generation that was promised 15 minutes of fame. Each. Never mind that the infant terrible who made this promise is long dead, so can’t be held accountable. And talking to a telemarketer isn’t exactly fame, per se.
The thirtysomething professional on the other end of the phone reminded me of myself—albeit a two-decade-earlier self, when I, too, thought of age 50 as an impossibly faraway place that would somehow recede into the distance the closer I got to it. Read more
A doctor’s prognosis brings Prudence Baird face to face with her “inner old lady.”
I love my town. What’s not to love about a place where the local doctor goes by his first name (Dr. Walter) and hand-writes notes to his patients?
Recently, one of Dr. Walter’s letters arrived in the mail. I recognized the familiar scrawly handwriting that could only belong to a doctor.
“What’s in the letter from Dr. Walter?” asked my husband.
“I have no idea.”
“Shall I open it?” he asked, ripping open the envelope. “Oh,” he paused. “You have osteoporosis.”
Surely my husband wasn’t talking to me?
I quickly looked around for Sally Field.
Moi, osteoporosis? A flying nun’s disease? An old lady’s disease? How could this be? Read more
Cathy Fischer’s hot fun in the summertime means live music, good friends and not postponing joy.
Tom Jones knocked my socks off. He danced, he sang—soulful and sexy. From Prince’s “Kiss” to “Sex Bomb” to the classic “It’s Not Unusual,” Sir Tom (yes he is a knight) had the crowd in a frenzy. Those of you who scoff, think again. The crowd spanned teenagers to baby boomers—singing along, dancing and eagerly throwing multi-colored lingerie. Then when Tom pulled up his sweat-soaked shirt to reveal a very fit 69-year-old body, well, I…I digress…
Staying “hip to the groove” is a state of mind.
Recently I joined my 50-something pals Mara and Shelly and our friend Jeff at the Outside Lands three-day music festival in Golden Gate Park. Leading up to the day, I was certain we’d be the oldest ones there—me, with my salty pepper hair and all—but I was mistaken. Read more
Prudence Baird reflects on midlife connections in the age of social media.
I know why baby boomers are joining Facebook faster than Bernie Madoff’s victims are moving in with their adult children.
We’re not done yet. We’re not done dominating popular culture as defined by our presence in the media, including the “social media” like Facebook and MySpace.
We’re not done with—even though we’ve long exceeded—our 15 minutes of fame. Each. We’re not done prancing in the spotlight—even if for some of us, it’s our first time. Read more
Nip and Tuck, What the… (insert rhyming word here)??
In an effort to be open, I’ve conducted an unofficial survey amongst others of my kind: middle-income, middle-aged Boomers, both men and women, on the subject of discretionary cosmetic surgery. Interestingly, I seem to hold a minority opinion (I’m agin’ it), and the subject is fraught. If I come out and say how I really feel, I risk being accused of being judgmental. If I don’t say how I REALLY feel; well…then I’m just mental. Read more