My admiration of Julie (in Julie and Julia) and her commitment to cook a different Julia Child receipe a day turned to envy. Not for the meals, the daily shopping, the constant kitchen mess, but for a commitment to do something every day for a year — and then doing it. I wondered what I could do that would not require kitchen duty, additional expense and would hold my attention.
It took until January 3 to formulate my January 1 resolution. I will select a word a day and comment on it. I reserve the right to make up words, to embellish true stories and to eavesdrop. I welcome your suggestions and input.
The word for the day, January 3, is “elder abuse.” Now that I am 65, I can speak with some authority. I find it abusive that I am expected to act my age. I never have and do not intend to start now. I encourage my readers of all ages to stop acting your age. Kids, you can be more responsible; adults, you can enjoy childlike wonder. Senior Citizens, you can discourage all such name calling with withering looks and feigned deafness. Speaking of which, I do not hear as well as I did and complaining about the loud TV is a form of elder abuse. I put up with your heavy metal and your late night croups and colics; you can put up with CNN amplified.
I realize that “elder abuse” has more serious connotations, and I do not want anyone to take lightly the abuse of people who are elderly and frail. Today’s discussion of “elder abuse” is my personal experience of this journey through a land I never expected to visit. It is better than Moscow and the arrivals bay at Bucharest International Airport where everyone is abused by poor signage and scowling officials who look like they really can whisk you past the Embassy to a damp, sealed cave.
Now that I have exposed the downside of my life, I promise a more upbeat discussion with tomorrow’s word: bliss