BY LARRY MOSS Despite being in my late 70s, I’ve been giving some thought lately to getting into local... The post Run? Or Run Away?    appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine ..read more

By Annie Culver We rode—my boyfriend and I—in a bouncy, two-door Toyota, destined for Thanksgiving... The post Thanksgiving Shenanigans appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine ..read more

BY KAREN WHITE-WALKER I give up! For somebody who’s in her advancing years, I still struggle and strive to cling to society’s niceties, but what do you get? Embarrassment and mortification! My writing career has afforded me a few privileges that maybe I otherwise wouldn’t have been exposed to. I mean, like the opportunity to interview ‘people in high places.” Hence, I’ve wondered and scrutinized them as to why THEY were selected and not the rest of us. Believe me, we’re the lucky ones, for under all that hoopla, I sometimes can sense in them a loneliness, a longing to ..read more

By ANNIE CULVER The first time I eyeballed a QR (short for quick response) code, I tried to decipher it like a palm reader might. Maybe I should’ve thrown up my arms then, instead of riding out the evolution until now. In those early days, I was fascinated that a little square code could take me places for useful information. One exception—the foolishness of restaurant QR codes once COVID became less threatening. Real menus enhance the experience of the full meal deal. The QR code was developed 30 years ago by a Japanese engineer who worked for a subsidiary of Toyota. His goal w ..read more

By C. Graham Campbell I loathe being considered a member of the “Baby Boomer” generation. It is a stupid, vapid, obnoxious label. The epithet should have been laid to rest decades ago. In addition, it has become a term of derision for the millennials and their cohorts. What we actually are is the first rock n’ rollers, or FRRs. Baby Boomers describes our parents, not us. We were the boomed, they were the boomers. Thus, Baby Boomer is a tag better suited to them acknowledging the surge of births as servicemen and women returned home after World War II. The “Greatest Warrior” generation became t ..read more

A close friend’s recent phone call sounded so chipper, I figured she discovered a new place to live. Turns out her ecstasy came from finding the perfect place for her husband and herself to be buried. (They’re both very much alive, albeit in their 80s.) The lilt in her voice had a giddiness about it. Somehow, as the two of them found their way through the many options, this tough undertaking shaped into a joyous glimpse of their hereafter. They purchased their plots and gravestones at the same time because they wanted to be sure of the location as well as the way the headstones were crafted. H ..read more

Aging fallacies we want to believe. Blanket statements—the world is full of them today. Some are as subtle as lightweight goose down. Others are heavy like those trendy weighted blankets. An article titled, “The Brain of an Elderly Person” came my way as an email link from an old friend. With enough blanket statements to make a bunch of patchwork quilts, the writing was somewhat peculiar, yet interesting, and loaded with generalizations about aging brains. The first claim? “The brain of an elderly person is much more plastic than is commonly believed.” The article is attributed to a neuropsych ..read more

Facing up to your weaknesses is never easy. Letting go of them? Even tougher. I’m reminded of the fellow I knew nearly four decades ago who gingerly wheeled a sofa footstool up to my refrigerator, opened the door, and settled into prowl. “Wow,” he exclaimed, as he grabbed jar after jar to have a closer look. “This is a veritable pâté graveyard!” “There isn’t any pâté,” I protested. “Maybe not, but look at all this,” he hooted. “Is it OK if I taste some of what’s in here? Could you hand me a spoon?” “Sure,” I shrugged, wary of all the attention my fridge contents commanded. To me, a refrigerato ..read more

A decade ago, I was anointed Doomsday Diva. It started when my ex-husband calmly explained the world was supposed to end on my 65th birthday. That’s precisely how he put it when we bumped into each other at a memorial service for a mutual friend. I rolled my eyes, shrugged, and mumbled that my winter solstice birthday often was the focus of appropriations, mystical and otherwise. It’s the longest night of the year in the northern hemisphere, after all. Then I read about 2012, the flop of a film about the cataclysmic end of the world on December 21, 2012. I decided I’d better do an Internet sea ..read more

It was a daydream that almost became a reality—renting a pickup or U-Haul with a girlfriend and hitting the road. Our destination? Georgia’s 100-mile Peanut Pickin’ Yard Sale in October sounds inviting or Florida’s scenic 72-mile one in November. There’s also the world’s longest yard sale, a whopping 690 miles through six states on Hwy 127 from Michigan to Alabama every August. Garage sales—or as Martha Stewart called hers, the “Great American Tag Sale”—are tough to resist. Martha sold 10,000 items the first day on her Katonah farm, north of New York City, and soon raised more than $800,000 fo ..read more