THE STUFF

I turned fifty-eight on my most recent birthday this past November, so if you do the math, you'll know I was born in a year when everyone liked Ike. That means my wonder years were spent in the 60's and early 70's, a time when Jello was considered a salad (if you set it on a bed of lettuce and mixed in carrot shavings,) white bread was a healthy food choice (it grew the body in 8 different ways!) and people smoked cigarettes at the dinner table because they were a great diet aid. Sometimes, I feel sad that today's young people will never have the opportunity to experience life with UHF TV, Saturday morning cartoons, and Baby Soft cologne. I know that kids today think they've got it all, but let's take them on a stroll down memory lane and show off some of the amazing items that were part of the fabric of our lives when we boomers were youngsters. Come along, young people!

HALLMARK - WHEN YOU CARE ENOUGH TO SEND THE VERY BEST CHEESE FOR MY WINE

Now that Christmas season is over, I have a confession. During the weeks when I should have been building gingerbread houses and searching Pinterest for DIY gift ideas, I was overdosing on those Hallmark Channel Christmas movies. In fact, it got so bad that I got the shakes if I went for more than four hours without a Lacey Chabert or Candace Cameron sighting. Don't judge me! No one warned me that these feel-good flicks are saccharine-based and that, after the initial desire to vomit copiously, you sink into a state of euphoria. I call it The Currier and Ives Effect. It's only now when I'm in recovery that I can see that there is so much wrong - so very wrong - with the Countdown to Christmas flicks.

HELI-GOOD MAMA!

It's my understanding that Helicopter Parenting is taking quite a hit on the blogs. Some young parents are under the impression  that all that hovering and obsessing is detrimental to a child's development. Free-Ranging is the way to go, they say. I tend to agree if we're talking about chickens.

When I was a child, there was no such thing as Free-Range Parenting. In those days, it was simply referred to as "parenting." (Actually, that's not true, since turning nouns into verbs wasn't a big thing in the 50's.) My generation was raised to run wild in the streets of suburbia, doing just as we pleased as long as we were home in time for dinner. We were brought up tough..forced to write our own book reports, to suck it up when we didn't make the team, to get our hair done in our mothers' kitchen, and to devour all sorts of chemical compounds. Basically, once we were old enough to leave the whelping box, our parents moved on with their lives, leaving us to fend for ourselves at malls and slumber parties and cheerleading try-outs. It's no wonder my generation invented Helicopter Parenting!

LOVE IS BLONDE

Lately, I've seen a lot of blog posts from women my age embracing their gray. Personally, I think gray hair can look very pretty. I'm partial to a silver mane worn in a sleek bob, or a white spiky crop paired with bold-colored earrings. In African-American women, I'm a fan of the very short cut with a natural curl accented by an intricate earring. Of course, many are going to say I'm missing the point. Women aren't going gray to be fashionistas. They are rejecting the dye as a way of rejecting fashion standards imposed upon us by a patriarchal society obsessed with youthful beauty in women.

THE SCREEN DOOR SLAMMED....

Recently, fans celebrated the 40th anniversary of the iconic rock album, "Born To Run." That party was one guest short. He was a fan who started talking about The Boss before anyone we knew. When Jon Landau wrote in The Real Paper, "I saw rock and roll's future and its name is Bruce Springsteen," he knew that future had already arrived. He had been following Bruce up and down the rust belt since 1973, so the critical and commercial success of "Born To Run" didn't surprise him. He was my older brother, and, by rights, this should be his story to tell. Unfortunately, you're going to have to make do with my side of it.

AMAZING GRACE ..... AND FRANKIE

MONDAY MEDIA MUSINGS

If loving Netflix is wrong, then I don't want to be right, or  even $9.99 a month richer. Any streaming service that could bring me the glory that is Grace and Frankie deserves an exclusive relationship with me.  I am yours, Netflix! Pick me up at eight, don't be late.

"Oh, Netflix. You're so dreamy!"

IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE!

To be honest, I'm getting just a tad too old for outrage. At this point in my life, I'd need knee- replacement surgery just to keep up with all the reactive jerking. Also, my social media skills could use some Geritol. By the time I figure out the proper hashtag to display my solidarity with those engaged in the most recent bout of collective ire, everyone's moved onto the next trending topic.