2017 Part 2 - April and May

In this post I will continue with the pictorial review of 2017 family activities begun in my last post. And, yes, so far I'm proud of myself for improved timeliness. So let's go.

April

Unfortunately, we were so busy with other things that we didn't take any pictures of baby Ian in April. 

April fool! You probably saw that coming. In fact, April began much as March ended - snapping pictures of our new grandson. Like this one of Ian in his brown snow suit.

Not too far into the month, Ian's mother and Grandma Burk whisked him off to the zoo for a little exposure to the non-human world. Not sure how much he took in, but he did meet other creatures with similar outfits. Like this little guy (species unknown).

And this big guy (species formidable).

April also saw the start of that old spring ritual, gardening. One of 2017's projects was reclaiming the slender strip of yard along the west side of the house, next to the neighbor's new paved driveway. It's hard to get to with a lawn mower, so we opted for ground cover (any reduction in the square footage I have to mow gets my vote; you know, to reduce stress on my new Snapper). Here are a couple of shots of the problem.

Ycch. The first step in the reclamation was bringing in dirt. So we had a nice young man from a local garden shop (anyone younger than I is now referred to as "a nice young man") bring in a couple of yards of dirt and build the ground level up to match the new concrete. He did a nice job.

Then the head gardener took on the task of planting the ground cover. Here is a shot of her handiwork. Now, we just have to wait for it to grow out and spread (and of course keep it weeded in the process).

And while we're in that part of the yard, here's our annual shot of our weeping cherry in bloom. It shows off with these gorgeous pink cherry blossoms for about two weeks, then spends the rest of the year shedding willow twigs that aggravate the Snapper. I like the cherry part better than the willow part.

April also involved some new wheels for certain members of the family. First, Christine's new ride - a sporty four-door Cruze hatchback.

And equally flashy, Ian's new top-door carpet-cruiser with deluxe teething ring tray and bootie rest. Again, what can I say about this kid except...stylin'.

May

May turned out to be more interesting than we'd hoped. First, you remember our little fallen limb incident from March? There was a little complication from the cleanup. When the tree guys came to remove the limb from the family room roof, they found that a second limb (smaller but still large) had fallen out of the tree onto the deck itself. When it landed, it poked a small hole in the deck planking. But as any hole is a problem, I went about the risky project of fixing it. Risky, because of my checkered past with power tools. Fortunately, I was able to manage the repair without incident.

First, there was the task of removing the damaged wood. The board that was damaged was about 16 feet long, so I opted to preserve as much as I could and just cut out the broken portion. I was able to replace it with a short piece fashioned from a length of planking that I had left over from an old deck gate that had been replaced. Here are a few shots of the problem. First, separation of the bad board from its neighbors.

Then the tricky part - amputation (luckily of the bad wood and not a body part).

And voila! Ready for the prosthesis.

 

In this last shot if you look to the lower left corner, a couple of boards up from the bottom of the picture, you can just make out my little 16" replacement board, doing its best to blend in with its bigger brothers and sisters. As my fixit projects usually go, this was a huge success (my criteria is low cost, no injuries, and I didn't have to hire someone to come and fix my fix; I never claimed that the bar was very high).

But the next hole in my property made this little irritation seem like it didn't even happen. Remember seeing this on the local news?

This is a picture of the gas company digging through one of their own lines while attempting to repair a recently and incorrectly installed line vent. This was part of a long term project to replace all of the gas lines in the city. You may further remember that this was one of a rash of gas line incidents in the Grosse Pointes in a period of a couple of months. But I digress.

Nancy and I were lounging in the living room, enjoying our morning routine, when there was a loud boom followed by the sound of heavy rain falling on the living room roof. At this point we both sprang out of our chairs and turned to the front picture window. The "rain" turned out to be sand and dirt blowing profusely out of a hole in the boulevard portion of my front yard. Next to this volcano of earthen material, shown in the above picture, is a DTE digging machine with its shovel arm suspiciously deep in the hole. Note that there is a DTE employee who seems to be casually walking away from the scene, perhaps looking for a safer hole to crawl into.

The eruption continued for the better part of an hour, depositing dirt and sand on everything in sight including a large portion of our front yard. To further complicate things, it took the city a couple of hours to locate the proper main valve to cut off the flow of gas. In the meantime, a number of people in uniforms came to "manage" the crisis and clear out a couple of blocks worth of neighbors. I have a scary memory of a DTE supervisor telling me to hold off turning the ignition key on my car until he took a gas reading in the driveway. Yikes. Here are a few more shots of the circus that unfolded in front of our house over the balance of the afternoon.

Among the visitors were a battalion of DTE workers and officials, several law enforcement agencies, three local news agencies (including one with a helicopter circling the area and filming the carnival), and lots of neighbors I had never met in my 30 years of living here. I was briefly interviewed by Channel 7 about whether or not I thought the power company was at fault (duh). I think I answered with something like "Yes, I think DTE should know where their lines are located and to keep that knowledge in mind when sinking a large digging device deep into the earth." It must have sounded too snarky, as I don't think my little sound bite actually made it on the air. Can't remember.

To round out this fun-filled day, here is a last shot of the organized chaos. The old Usual Suspects line "Did you bring enough guys?" comes to mind. 

The broken gas line was repaired just about sundown, and by then most of the debris had been removed by an army of yellow-jacketed DTE workers with hand shovels. Likewise, the crowd of newsmen, policemen, DTE officials and curious neighbors slowly dispersed. They had let us back in the house by happy hour, so we could sit with cocktails in our living room and watch the third act of this little drama. It would take several months for the mess to be totally cleaned up. More on the aftermath of our "gas adventure" a little later in the year.

We had one other minor casualty in May. During my biannual power washing and varnishing of our beloved yard swing, I discovered this.

And when I tried to clean things off and tighten the joints, parts started coming off in my hand.

So with a heavy heart, I dismantled the swing and the hanging frame and tucked them away behind the garage for future disposal. I guess after 20 years of weather and refurbishing, the only thing keeping the old pine logs together was the varnish itself.

I'll wrap up May with another Ian update, who was then pushing four months. Here are a few pics from Ian's first Memorial Day weekend visit to Wiser Times. In this first shot he is lounging in his portable donut seat, gnawing (well, gumming I guess) on his favorite giraffe.

In this pic Ian is assisting me with an important call from a telemarketer, something about a can't-lose investment opportunity in Nigeria.

Here Ian has relocated in his donut seat (which turns out to also be sort of a baby chaise lounger) in a sun tent on the beach. Note the flashy shades and the matching hat/shorts twin set.

And now the family classic "first foot in Lake Huron" shot, here engineered by mom. He was you might say, underwhelmed, as I think the water temperature was a tad cool. Okay. Very cool, likely requiring more than the traditional four ducks to adjust to (water requiring four or more ducks to adjust to is officially unswimmable). But as Ian was only immersing toes, the duck limit was formally suspended for this event.

In this final shot, I'm helping Ian recover from this rite of passage and assuring him that feeling will return to his little feet before happy hour. And it did.

As the family had a very full June, I'll save that story for the next post in my 2017 review series.

Be back soon.

2017 Part 1 - January to March

Two years ago I launched my "last year in review" posts, as one component of my duties as family historian (the other component being my "memory lane" posts, involving digitizing and sharing our family pics and slides from my pre-blog period; only 30 years behind on that little item). For 2015, I completed the review in five posts and was done by March of 2016. Not bad. For 2016, it took me nine posts and I didn't finish until December 2017. Not good. I'm going to do my best to mirror my earlier effort, and move on to 2018 fun before the vernal equinox. We'll see how well I do.

January

Nancy and I woke up on New Year's Day 2017 in Florida, as we have for many years. This year, we were hanging with my mother in Zephyrhills, catching up on daytime dramas and watching bowl games. Before heading home to the Pointes, we meandered over to Disney World for a few more days of warm weather. We stayed at our favorite haunt, Disney's Old Key West Resort, and traveled around to theme parks and other attractions in the least onerous fashion - the bus. Each day's adventure began here, just a few steps away from our vacation home - the closest station for catching on-property Disney buses. 

Taking the bus is way easier than gassing up, navigating theme park parking lots, and getting to and from one's car at the various stops of the day. Plus, you get to commune with all sorts of other interesting travelers and mechanical devices for assisting mobility. It's an education that I appreciate as one day I may need to acquire and learn how to use such devices. And as as most of you know, I like to plan ahead. Here's a shot of Nancy and me on the bus making the most of this educational environment. You can tell that I as a potential beneficiary of mobility devices (pushee) am more excited than my bride, who may be contemplating her future as an operator (pusher). Just a guess.

During our few days at WDW we made the rounds to several of our favorite spots as at the time we were annual pass holders. This privilege enables a person to wear themselves down to a bloody pulp in a combination of places instead of doing it in just one venue. In the shot below, a selfie within camera range of the Tree of Life at Disney's Animal Kingdom, we are taking a short break in between a ride on the Kilimanjaro Safari and checking our BP at the customer assistance station.

We did have a couple of new experiences this trip that proved interesting. The first was at Hollywood Studios. This next pic is another selfie of Nancy and I outside of the Sci-Fi Dine-In Theater.

Over the years, I had walked by this eatery a hundred times on my way to other, more well-known attractions like Planet Pizza and the Muppet 3-D Theater. But this time we peeked in and were intrigued. Turns out this campy restaurant has tables in the shape of convertibles parked at a drive-in theater showing sci-fi movies. Here's a shot of us taken by a friendly car hop, about to take our order.
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And a second shot showing the cars and the drive-in movie screen which ran a constant rotation of trailers for diners' enjoyment. I was feeling very much a part of the program as (being a collector of cheesy sci-fi) I actually own several of the movies that were on display.

The other first-time event was this light show at the newly expanded Disney Springs shopping center (which encompasses all of what used to be Pleasure Island and Disney's West End). The lights are actually attached to a couple of hundred drones hovering in formation over Lake Buena Vista. The light show was driven by a computer which rearranged the drones into several different formations (like this Christmas tree) during about a 15 minute show. We watched it all from the new bridge that spans the east end of the lake from the Rain Forest Cafe area to the Lego store. Awesome.

We finally left the sunshine state and headed home by the second week of January. Back in the Pointes we did our best to keep warm, and worked in a little dog sitting. The Reinharts' dog Abigail bunked in with our Coco one weekend while the two-legged members of the family went on a ski trip. Now, I'm not saying Abby was a little out of sorts being abandoned for a few days, but I've never seen any of our dogs assume this position.

She did settle down after awhile and joined Coco for the usual evening puppy lounging area in front of the fire. This looks way more comfortable.

But as most of you already know, the big event of January 2017 was the arrival of daughter Cathy and her hubby Matt's baby boy, Ian Mathew Kuhlman, at 5:00 pm on the 17th. Or in military time, 1/17/17 at 1700 hours. Here's a shot of this one-day-old marvel in Grandma Burk's freshly knitted baby blanket with his new Teddy bear from Grandma and Grandpa Kuhlman.

And, of course, first photos with Grandpa and Grandma Burk.

And one more pic of Ian, deep in thought, bundled for the trip home from the hospital. Nice hat.

February

As you may imagine, February was all about snow removal and the new grandson. I have thoroughly covered my snow removal adventures in a number of previous posts. Fancy equipment, nifty outfits and lots of foot or deeper snowfalls. So let's move on to the grandson. As his first month unfolded, little Ian probably thought he had been born into supermodeldom. And that cameras (read phones) were some sort of life-sustaining activity that had to be repeated every 15 minutes. Here are a few finds from the February festival of photos.

At two weeks.

Three weeks.

Learning to walk. Well, learning to be walked. He's in there somewhere.

During his first visit to the Pointes (it's good to explore one's roots at an early age).

With Aunt Christine.

In the rocker with Grandma.

And finally with mom, exhausted from his east side road trip.

There was a little non-Ian photo activity during the month worthy of note. I received this great pic of my mother taken by her park for their annual directory. She is 92 years Ian's senior. The lad has some fine genes working for him.

March

March usually involves a trip south for us to rush spring a tad, visit my mother and relax at a Disney resort with friends and family. 2017 was no different, except it ended up being a little harder to get out of town. You Detroiters may recall that on March 8th last year the city was hit with a violent windstorm. The storm knocked out power to much of the southwestern portion of the city, including just about every traffic light in the area. Add to that the closure of the southbound lanes of I-75 due to reconstruction, it was just about impossible to navigate one's way from the east side of town through to the freeway south of the Rouge plant viaduct. It took us a couple of hours to go the first 30 miles.

But even before our road woes, we had an adventure at home. The same wind storm that crippled the city did this.

Yes, that's a shot of our family room roof. And, no, it's not a fancy new overgrown roof planter. It's a big chunk of maple tree that used to be located....here.

The limb in the middle with the abrupt end used to be much higher. The wind snapped off the top 30 feet of the limb like a toothpick and dropped it on our roof. I knew something was wrong when, while in the kitchen packing my Manhattan kit for the trip, I heard a loud thud overhead. I stuck my head out the back door but saw nothing. So I stepped out onto the deck, looked around, and discovered the problem. Here's another shot of the rearranged arboreal matter from our upstairs hallway window. Ugh.

In a surprising but welcome bit of luck, we were able to have a tree service come out within a couple of hours and size up the task of cleaning up the mess. They found no serious roof damage, just a crushed roof vent. And their estimate for removing the downed limb was reasonable. So we made the deal, finished our packing, and got out of Dodge before something else intruded (unfortunately, right into the traffic troubles mentioned above).

Now, remember this little episode as we move through the rest of the year in review, because there was an equally surprising part two of our tree troubles in 2017. But now, back to our trip.

Once the departure day difficulties were behind us, the trip came off without further adventure. We made it to Florida on time, picked up Christine at the airport a couple of days later, and had a nice visit with my mother in Zephyrhills. On Sunday the 12th we headed off to Disney and met up with Cathy, Matt and Ian (who flew in from Beverly Hills) and Ted, Summer, Leili and Cyrus (who drove in from Austin). We started our time together in a grand villa at Disney's Old Key West. Here's a shot of our three grandkids meeting for the first time, Leili almost nine, Cyrus almost seven, and Ian almost two months. This is the first of what I'm sure will be an oft repeated scene for the rest of my days.

The next day Christine, Ted and the rest of the Texans headed off for a day at the Magic Kingdom. The Kuhlmans, Nancy and I headed back to Zephyrhills for lunch and to introduce Ian to his great grandmother. Here they are getting acquainted. 

And a second pic, of the four generations.

After a couple nights at Old Key West, we all packed up and headed a few miles down the road to Disney's Vero Beach Resort for the rest of the week (for a full tour of this ocean side paradise, see previous post Hangin' With the Ps). Here are a few pics from the rest of the trip. First, Ian in his beach outfit. Stylin'.

Gathering for a little family competition. This trip the game of choice was Spot-It. It was a little too fast-paced for Grandpa.

A little quiet time away from the hubbub, as demonstrated by Grandma.

  

A little more Spot-It (new venue).

The customary dining table shot.

There were also outdoor activities, of course. Like the miniature golf (for two).

Water slides (that little pellet about to hit the water is Cyrus).

  

Sunbathing.

And hamming it up for the camera. 

And back in the condo, a little more Spot-It (third venue).

We ended the week together with a big-time photoshoot over happy hour. Here are shots of all the players, happy to have been together for another family vacation. First the Beverly Hills part of the family. Note that Ian is sporting his St. Patrick's day outfit, making an early sartorial statement.  

The Texas contingent.

Nancy and I with the grandkids.

And finally, the full group.

With the kids on their way back to their respective homes, Nancy and I headed back to Michigan. But as is our way, we worked in a little more visiting in the process.

Before heading north we spent an afternoon with Mark and Sue Gillman in Venice. Mark is an old high school friend with whom I reconnected at our 50th high school reunion. The Gillmans were gracious enough to have us for a lunch and a tour of their winter playground on the Gulf. Here's a shot of the four of us cruising the local beach. 

Our final stop was in Spencer, Tennessee, for a visit with our good friends Jan and Miguel Rodriguez. We get to see them fairly regularly as they live conveniently exactly half way between home and Florida. In the shot below, Jan and Miguel have taken us to Lynchburg, Tennessee, for a tour of the Jack Daniels distillery. Being somewhat of a whiskey drinker, I found the tour delightful and informative. Good to know just how some of the finest mood management products are actually produced.

That brings us to the end of March, and the end of this first installment of my 2017 year in review. But, can't really end the post without an Ian update. Here he is at 10 weeks, still quite happy to be here.

I'll be back with Part 2 soon.

70 (aka 65 Redux)

Now that I've mentally descended from the hubbub of the holidays, with the help of a few days of gazing at the moonscape that is Lake Huron in winter, I'd like to revisit my earlier post 65. In that 2012 commentary I shared what I considered some important life lessons from my 40 years in the working world. It was sort of a post-mortem on the principles I had come to rely on in my daily life. And was a critical step in closing out that part of my life where most of my waking hours were spent helping others achieve their goals.

I've now been retired more than five years, and have had ample time to measure those principles against the challenges that come (surprisingly) with fewer commitments to others and (not so surprisingly) with age. A review of the former post might help one make more sense of the observations in this one (I know - good tip). So let's work the list again, a little further along the journey.

1 - Life is a test, and tomorrow you get to take it again. The spirit of my original observation was that everyday is a new chance to get things right. What I didn't realize then is how many of the new tests would involve imaging technology, blood samples and intimate conversations with people that have "ologist" at the end of their title.

2 - Know what you want out of life. This was a testament to the Franklin system of sorting out life's goals, planning with these goals in mind, and living the plan. Prior to retiring, most of my attention was required to honor the goals at the top of the list. You know, the ones that focus on being a positive force for the people around you (see previous post Values for the deep background on what I'm referring to here). What I was hoping for in retirement was that those issues would be on near-automatic, and more time could be spent on some of the lesser but nonetheless important goals, like order, happiness and intellectual growth.

I'm happy to report that for the most part that has come to pass. I have had plenty of time to keep my extensive movie collection indexed and alphabetized and to better understand the important life messages in just about every episode of Leave it to Beaver. I've even had time to go on eBay and acquire one of those life-sustaining WWWCD bracelets (what would Ward Cleaver do).

3 - If the consequences of your behaviors aren't meeting your needs, there is an error in your belief window. I was initially doing okay with this somewhat technical principle in retirement, which basically means that if things aren't going your way, it's probably not someone else's fault. Rather, you need to reexamine how the world really works. In other words, look within to find, assess and correct your own beliefs and behaviors when things don't turn out just the way you would like.

I have to admit that the last year or so of political activity in this country has thrown me for a loop. It may be that I was wrong about this, and that consequences of bad acts can be avoided through denial even in the face of cold facts or through a sufficiently snarky tweet storm. The jury is still out on this (can you say Robert Mueller), but I'm getting a little antsy. To try and keep calm about the whole thing and preserve my sense of propriety I've been rewatching a lot of Lone Ranger episodes. It's helping.

4 - Well begun is half done. The message here is that the way to overcome challenges is to merely take the first step, no matter how small. Then the next step, and before you know it you're on your way. I have certainly found this to be just as true in retirement as it was in my work life. However, that seems to be only half the story. It's the backend of this little dynamic that sort of snuck up on me.

In the working world, like most I had more on my plate each day than could be completed. That was okay, as unexpected time could turn up during the day due to changes beyond my control. Having extra items on my to-do list (or in Franklinese, my PDTL - Prioritized Daily Task List), meant that I could quickly turn those gifts of time into productive work. My back-up plan, so to speak, was already built into my day.

However, having more items on my PDTL than I could actually do also meant that I had to be diligent in working the highest priority items (the As) first, and avoid sliding down to those lesser important items (the Bs and Cs) when there was still priority work that could be done. But, there was another subtle force operating in my work planning model that has slipped away in retirement, and therein lies the rub.

What I now realize is that when you are working mostly high priority items, items that affect others, you finish them. Because if you don't, there's trouble. Either for you or for someone depending on you. In my retirement life, that is seldom the case. Yes, there are still important tasks for which there are sufficient incentives for completing (usually having to do with marital commitments or those "ologist" folks I mentioned earlier), but at least so far in my post-work world they are few.

Most of my planned activities involve my hobbies. If I don't get those tasks done as planned, basically nothing bad happens. The task just gets "arrowed" ahead in my day planner. No trouble, nobody adversely affected, not really even anyone to tell. As a result, while I have spent a lot of time on hobby activities since retiring, and started a long list of interesting projects, virtually none are complete. They are neatly tucked away in my hobby cubby, patiently waiting for some attention.

Do I feel bad about this, or inefficient, or unreliable, or even poorly organized? No. That sense of urgency that departed my psyche when I hung up my IRS spurs is still off somewhere, looking for someone else to nag. So while I still say that "well begun is half done", I would now also say "interest wanes in the half that remains". Or said another way, "a well-planned start ain't the the only hard part". Or to put an even finer point on it, "one can easily shirk retirement work". You get the idea. And can likely sense by how I have belabored this point, that for me finishing things isn't the priority it used to be.

5 - If it's in the planner it happens. As hinted in the previous item, there's been a slight change in my compliance with this principle. For big picture items, like family support, vacations or major social events, it still holds true. When an issue is complex, the day planner remains a powerful tool. But for the bulk of my activities, which focus on well-honed hobby and goofing-off skills, I would say "if it's in the planner, it won't be forgotten, but it has a 50/50 chance of being arrowed".  After all, one of the burdens of a healthy retirement is a good dose of dawdling (see previous post The Art of the Dawdle for a reminder on the nature and benefits of this misunderstood activity). And to even the most casual observer it is plain to see that dawdling is not very planner-esqe.

6 - Preserve relationships. As critical as ever. You never know when a person in your presence will be pressed into immediate caregiver duties. And you want them to be well motivated.

7 - Treat people as if they know something that you don't, because they do. The original message of this principle was that everyone has unique experiences and perspectives on the world, and encouraging them to share their ideas should enrich our own lives. What I've learned since retirement is that it's possible for one's life to be over-enriched. It seems as though there has been a decline in independent thought among certain segments of our society, and that it just might be that there are people out there who know nothing useful to me. This is a tough admission for a life-long liberal-hippie-extravert with a strong sense of unity with my fellow men and women. But after a fair amount of my own independent thought, I've run out of alternatives to explain why some people behave the way they do (except of course for the alien influence possibility presented in my previous post How Terribly Strange...)

8 - Don't Major in the Minors.  While I still support the idea of not missing the bigger picture by quibbling over lesser important issues, I would say this principle operates a little differently in retirement. It's just more fun to play in the minors. With those major issues rolling along smoothly for the most part (see 2 above), you can spend more time on the little things in life that make you smile. Like organizing family pictures, adding the 6000th song to your iPod, or re-reading your favorite seven volume fantasy adventure. Just keep tabs on your major-issues sensor array, so you can quickly snap back to adulthood if necessary to keep the ship afloat should a rogue wave come your way.

9 - Geography is a powerful force: In my earlier post I noted how where and with whom you spend your time has a great deal of influence over what you do, what you think, and your overall wellbeing. So, put yourself in environments that facilitate your goals. I find that principle only amplified in retirement. For me, the liberal-hippie-extravert, that means hanging out with my peeps as often as I can. Parties, picnics, luncheons, bar night - be there or despair. 'Cause it won't last forever.

Geography also plays a role in the increased private time retirement usually affords. Nothing stimulates the brain better than nestling the body into a stress-free zone. In other words, I think it's way easier to get outside the box mentally or spiritually if you're inside a comfy box physically, losing less energy to the outside world. At least, that's the way my mental processes work.

An Adirondack on the beach, a favorite reading chair, an ergonomic swivel rocker stationed within arms length of your hobby world, even a car passenger seat where you can catatonically stare out the window at the countryside while your spouse navigates the interstate. All can be portals to reflection and renewal. So pick your "departure" spots carefully. You don't want to miss your flight.   

10 - Don't just smell the roses, plant some. The original message here was "pay it forward". Invest in others, as our predecessors invested in us. In retirement, with reduced exposure to the working world, I find most of my opportunities to do good involve kids and grandkids, mine and others. It's rewarding, of course, and enjoyable. Spending time with the next generations, lending them a sympathetic ear as they journey through the challenges of managing careers, parenting, surviving the perilous world of home ownership - it's all good and not unexpected. Most of us have been preparing for this our entire adult lives.

What has surprised me some have been the frequent opportunities I've had to contribute to peers (and elders) who have had or are having a harder time reaching the rose garden. It's unnerving at times how our "golden years", despite our best efforts to plan, can be so arbitrary in their distribution of fortune. Health, wealth, blessings, tragedy - it can seem like a real crap shoot at times. So I feel it's important to not only plant roses for those coming afterward, but to be mindful of those of our own and previous generations who occasionally might need a little help getting themselves into sniffing range.
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Well, there you have it. How my thinking has morphed in retirement, tempered by the occasional dose of liquid wisdom and over exposure to social media. But still tied closely to what I believe are important life principles.

And now I plunge full speed into my 70s (well full-speed for me; that's about one click down from an amble). I'll check in again at 75 and report on how things are going, assuming the Russians haven't revoked my Internet privileges.   

"How Terribly Strange.....

...to be 70", is the rest of that Paul Simon lyric. I had no idea.

I completed my 70th year on Earth last November. Well, at least my 67th or 68th. I can't remember much of the first couple of years. I have to take the word of others (and some suspect hospital documents) that I actually started here and not in some off-world colony or long-range spacecraft. Being a life long devotee of all forms of science fiction, I have thought about that from time to time. It's put me off looking into my DNA ancestry.

Species certification notwithstanding, living in today's world as a budding septuagenarian feels alien enough for anything to be true. So I'm keeping an open mind on the issue, while I assess the evidence. Let's consider.

First, something simple. Cars. I understand science and engineering. Seat belts, air bags, side view mirrors, infant car seats, even rear view cameras. All are improvements that have emerged in my driving lifetime. I accept them all as reasonable and smart. But self-stopping, self-parking, even self-driving cars? Right. That's nuts.

I'm barreling down I-75 surrounded by 18-wheelers of all sorts, bus-sized RVs towing Mini Coopers, pickups longer than a cigarette boat with tires off an earth mover, and I'm going to turn back to my "in-flight" Scrabble game and calmly make my next move? I don't think so. I've spent too many miles dodging highway nemeses of all types and sizes to trust some computer chip made of plastic and tin foil to safely usher me and my loved ones from the Motor City to Disney World. This without so much as a touch screen or a joystick. I've seen Star Trek, Jupiter Ascending, even Guardians of the Galaxy. There has to be some alien conspiracy at work here.

Then there's communication. During my formative years (ages five through 29), communication referred to learning cursive, knowing how to diagram sentences, syntax, avoiding dangling participles, and rules of punctuation. Later, we had to adjust to the intrusive notion that what we mean to say is more important than getting the grammar right. So rules went out the window. We were schooled in transactional analysis and interpreting body language and packed off to sensitivity training.

In more recent years we have devolved completely into cyber babble, mostly concerned with how fast we can connect with the largest number of people possible, with no thought or meaning required.  Actually weighing down a "message" with thought or meaning is usually counterproductive. The important thing is not to exceed the number of allowable characters. This downward spiral feels very much like what a hostile force might lead us to as a prelude to invasion. Keep your eyes on the horizon.

And what about dignity? Nothing appears more strange (and less dignified) to me than a professional business man in an expensive suit who appears to have forgotten to shave during his morning toilette. I'm not talking about well-groomed beards. They have been around and accepted since, well, forever. I'm referring to what looks like yesterday's leftovers. Scraggle. Stubble.

I understand that a whole generation of young men missed razor training and are beyond redemption. But this trend has spread to older, formerly distinguished cultural leaders (like TV weathermen, game show hosts and used car salesmen). What I think is really going on is that the aliens that are replacing key individuals on our planet have a fierce allergy to after shave lotion. So I now carry a travel-size bottle of Aqua Velva with me at all times. Just in case.

Safety seems to be another obvious indicator that we have been infiltrated by off-worldly strangeness. Doesn't it seem weird that almost every child rearing principle, device, toy, and dietary rule of the previous generation is now either not recommended, disapproved by some extremist consumer protection group (like Pediatricians for a Wimpy America) or actually illegal. I have a basement full of baby stuff I have hoarded for years so I could pass it all on to my grandchildren or use these memory-laden items to entertain the little darlings during grandpa babysitting adventures. I don't think so.

Most of the equipment that arrives with my grandkids when they visit has more safety features than my first car. Actually, my first several cars. Who could have known that twirl-a-whirls, collapsible walking trainers, child leashes and even umbrollers were such lethal threats to the future of the species. More likely, the spawn being cultivated to replace us have some physical deficiencies (no doubt an evolutionary balance to their mental superiority) that require this crackdown on faux-irresponsible parenting.

If all this isn't enough to persuade you that the strange walk among us, let me indulge in a brief glimpse into the worlds of politics and religion. I mean, duh. Have you followed the news lately? Or surfed through the political talk shows or evangelical stations? Chaos. Cacophony. Cosmic discord is upon us.

Have we ever seen so many contradictory points of view advocated so intensely, explained so meaninglessly, defended so self-servingly, and embraced so blindly by its constituencies? It's like we are caught in an anti-intellectual big-bang, with every idea flying away from every other idea at the speed of light. A speed so fast that no thought will ever catch up to or influence any other thought. Who else but a race of menacing superbeings would have the means and the will to shut down the critical thinking processes of so many humans at the same time? You've read Stephen King's Cell, right? I'm tellin' ya'. 
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Or not. It could be that I just got a bad bottle of vitamin chewies. Or that I have mixed up some of my meds with my mother's. Or that the gravitational pull of the lunar apogee is messing with the sensory receptors in my brain. Or maybe, just maybe, I've allowed my addictions to Perry Mason, Leave It to Beaver and 50s sci-fi to color my sense of normal. You know. Like a Twilight Zone episode (from the early years). Not sure.

Whatever the cause, I am feeling a lot of strangeness up here in the septo-sphere. It's not exactly scary. I have no urge to run and hide under a table. But I sense something wafting all around me. Something unnerving, with a faint aroma of distilled spirits. And I have a feeling that it's not going away.

Until my next encounter of the 70s kind.

Grosse Pointe Charles