The Boomer Chronicles

People all over Boston — my neighborhood included — are up in arms over the possibility of the city’s branch libraries closing due to lack of funds. Yesterday, a hearing was held and the citizens were given a chance to testify. To my mind, the issue boils down to these:

• Internet use vs. actual paper book use
• Branches that have low use vs. branches that have high use
• Neighborhoods that make use of the library space as a public space more than the services of the library
• Socioeconomics of the neighborhoods

I want the libraries to stay open. Is that old-fashioned?

I sent an email today to advice columnist “Dear Margo,” not to get advice but to compliment her on her sound response to a woman who is unhappy in her marriage. Margo Howard (that’s Dear Margo’s actual name) wrote right back to me and thanked me for my comment. Then I got curious. I went online and read about Margo. I had totally forgotten that she is Ann Landers’s daughter and Dear Abby’s niece. And it turns out Margo lives in my part of the country and her 70th birthday is next week. Anyway, here is the question and answer that moved me to write to Margo today (as reprinted from the Boston Globe):

Q. I’ve been married to my husband for two years. We’ve been together for six, but have had problems throughout. However, I have always loved him and thought we would have babies and grow old together. A few months ago, I began to develop feelings for a very close girlfriend of mine who is gay. The feelings turned out to be mutual, and after a drunken threesome with my husband, she and I embarked on an affair. This was meant to be just a short-lived fling, but it quickly turned serious. I honestly feel she is the love of my life. I have never been so emotionally, intellectually, and physically in synch with another person. I love my husband, but the glaring contrast between the relationship I’ve developed with my friend and the one I have with him has given me a glimpse of a happiness I never thought was possible.

The affair has come to his attention, and he’s willing to work through it, but said I have to end my relationship with my best friend. She and I have ended our physical relationship while I am sorting things out with my husband, but she’s continued to be a source of support. The thought of ending things with her makes me physically ill. Part of me wants to walk away from my husband and pursue this exhilarating love, but I am scared and sad at the thought of ending a semi-happy six-year relationship for something that is so new and foreign to me. Signed, BETWIXT AND BETWEEN

A. This will strike some as radical, but I am going to leave gender out of the equation. What you are contemplating is leaving one partner for another. Because you say you’ve had problems throughout this six-year relationship, you believe this woman to be the love of your life, you are experiencing happiness you never thought possible, and you feel physically ill at the thought of losing her, I would recommend you try to upgrade from “semi-happy’’ and go for it.

Well, it’s 2010 and a woman has finally won an Oscar for directing a movie. Kathryn Bigelow, 59, won for her film The Hurt Locker, which also won Best Picture. Only three other women have ever been nominated for best director — Lina Wertmüller, Jane Campion, and Sofia Coppola.

As Bigelow exited the stage, the ’70s pop-feminist anthem “I Am Woman” played. But come tomorrow, Bigelow still will be working in an industry where women directors, actors, writers and designers aren’t paid as well or praised as much as their male counterpart — Los Angeles Times

And most importantly, the Los Angeles Times writes:

One question, perhaps, is why an art form that ostensibly reflects our life and times has so often lagged years or even decades behind evolving social realities. Time will tell whether last night’s recognitions were harbingers of change or exceptions that prove the rule.

Check out the carnival for baby boomers over at the Midlife Crisis Queen.

Do we still make anything in America?

Check out Women & Hollywood’s Oscar picks.

You’ve got to check out this hilarious little film about the innovations in telecommunications as presented at the 1964 New York World’s Fair. It’s 13 minutes of Retro pleasure.

Follow Wenderina’s journey through college as a ‘nontraditional’ (read ‘older’) student.

It’s obligatory for me — being the person behind The Boomer Chronicles — to tell you about Tom Brokaw’s Boomers program, which airs tonight on CNBC at 9 pm (ET). The two-hour documentary examines the economic challenges facing the aging baby boomer generation. Brokaw, who turned 70 on Feb. 6, is not a boomer. But he has come to be seen as an authority on the subject.

Washington, D.C., just became the sixth place in the country where same-sex couples can be legally married. Washington joins Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, New Hampshire and Vermont. As usual, many of the couples who are in the front of the line to get married are in their 40s, 50s and beyond. Some are marrying for love, some are marrying to protect the kids, and others are marrying for the benefits — just like straight couples! From the Washington Post:

Michael Lavin, 55, and his partner Joe Peters, 48, of Brookeville, in Montgomery County, have been together for 17 years. Although they are registered domestic partners, Peters had to pay a hefty tax when his name was added to the deed to Lavin’s farm. Peters also said that if they remained unmarried and one of them became incapacitated, the other could be denied access to him. “This just gives us an extra level of protection,” Peters said.

I just returned from a little trip to the Adirondacks, where I stayed at White Pine Camp, Pres. Calvin Coolidge’s one-time summer home. The camp is located in a town called Paul Smith’s, New York. Yep, weird name for a town.

I had a great time. I went with friends as well as some strangers and we stayed in two houses, both equipped with woodstoves and all kinds of Adirondacks-y stuff like stuffed deer heads and furniture made from branches and bark. I went snowshoeing, which I really liked;  bowled on an antique bowling alley where you actually had to reset the pins by hand; saw Olympic gold medalist Bill Demong’s family house (which was one house away from our camp); had group meals in the Great House, which had cathedral ceilings and more taxidermy than you can shake a stick at; saw Lake Placid and Saranac Lake; played games; did a jigsaw puzzle with a group of friends; and generally enjoyed lots of quiet time with no TVs or radios or any other interruptions.

During our six-hour trip back to Boston yesterday, the exhaust pipe that runs along the bottom of the car fell down and noisily dragged along the highway for about 50 miles until we found a service station. A great guy, Roger, at the Pottersville Garage in Pottersville, N.Y., fixed our pipes in 1 hour and 18 minutes, and we were on our way again. And it cost a thrifty $65. You can’t get service like that in the city! Here are a few Adirondacks pics:

My cousin Dan from Minnesota retired early from the U.S. Postal Service last year at age 53. Here, he ponders how he became a ‘handy’ guy and why his kids have not followed in his footsteps:

I was washing up before leaving for lunch with some friends when the hot water from the faucet scalded my hands. Deep in the back of mind I knew the source of the problem. As I descended to the basement I could hear the sound of running water, and as I peeked around the furnace, the river of water on the floor confirmed that the water heater had died. Last month the garbage disposal let go, soaking everything under the sink, and now the water heater. But I can’t really complain. The water heater is 16 years old and survived a house of five. Now I have to make a choice: call someone, or do it myself.

“Handiness,” or the ability to fix things around the house, is normally passed down from father to son. Cancer stole this opportunity from me before my 4^th birthday. But I was lucky: All of my friends’ fathers were handy, so I learned a lot from hanging around them and there was always the kid next door.

The kid next door, nine years older, was always doing things around the house. At the age of 17 he read a book on construction and built an addition on their house and I was there watching. A few years later I was promoted from watcher to helper. Over the last 40 years we built two additions, remodeled his office, installed ceramic tile floors and built furniture. Once we re-roofed his house because he didn’t like the color of the existing shingles. We did it all, poured the cement foundations, hung the doors and windows, ran the wires, installed the plumbing, everything. Everything I know is a direct result of working with that kid next door.

My kids don’t have any excuse. Over the years they have seen me fix almost everything around the house but they were never interested in helping. In fact, it has become a running joke in my house or as my son calls it a “Danism.” I would ask one of the kids for help and always say, “It will only take five minutes.” Of course, it always took more than five minutes. Video games, computers and the Internet were much more interesting than helping the old man to fix the toilet. (After three kids, I have a Ph.D. in toilet.)

Now that I’m retired, the quality of my handiwork seems to have improved. Without the pressures of work or the family being home, I have more time to think, plan, and measure to ensure success. (Measure twice, cut once)  So without an excuse to call a plumber, I called my son and asked him to help me wrestle the old water heater out of the basement and move the replacement into position. Of course I told him, “It will only take five minutes.” A few hours later, the hot water was once again flowing and I was thinking about how to spend the $500 I just saved by not calling a plumber.

Not passing my “handiness” down to my kids still bothers me but maybe it’s for the best. Sometime in the future I expect to answer the phone and hear, “Hey, Dad, how about coming over and help me replace the kitchen sink.”

LifeTwo is hosting this week’s carnival for baby boomers. Pour a cup of coffee and get over there.