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Reflections August 2012

“60 & Beyond” Quintessential Finishing School

Act Old Later

By Peggy Henderson

Unfortunately, because of the hiccups of the aging process, cataracts and refusal to wear hearing aids, plus problems of mood changes, dining out with my peers can pose a challenge of patience. Alas, the dreaded word boredom comes to mind. Sometimes staying at home and watching even a mediocre movie ranks higher than couples' night out.

Lately I've switched from being a genial, compliant dinner hostess to an active pursuer of relevant, witty, even debatable interchanges amongst my seasoned dinner guests.

Unfortunately, because of the hiccups of the aging process, cataracts and refusal to wear hearing aids, plus problems of mood changes, dining out with my peers can pose a challenge of patience. Alas, the dreaded word boredom comes to mind. Sometimes staying at home and watching even a mediocre movie ranks higher than couples' night out.

The fact remains that an upscale eatery with superb food, music, top notch wine list, local art work on the walls with painterly lighting, offers the bones for a gem of an evening on the town. Nevertheless, the dinner conversation is solely up to the seated participants. Delicious, entertaining discourse is impossible to script, anticipate or duplicate.

The stage is set. Tidbits of innuendoes, telling body language and frisky quips hang in the air waiting for another tit-for-tat. Colorful conversation sparkles with the highs and lows of human emotion. A convivial dinner drama should entice the participants to create a witty or wily comeback. What's more engaging than to share a golf tale or praise a friend's performance in the Little Theater and see her pleased expression?

In regard to home entertaining, I've returned to our earlier, married days when my husband and I relished giving no-tie dinner parties. It was after a recent event, during the main course, that the tedious chit-chat pushed me over the edge. Dessert was served a bit prematurely, hinting at a short evening. I told my husband that next time we joined a group for dinner, I planned to use a manipulative plan, yet disclosed.

The following dialogue is a sample of typical conversations that kill the joy of giving dinner parties for my generation.

"I've spent the last two days trying to find a new family doctor," announces Mary putting down her red wine goblet. "This is the second one this year that's retired early. With all the ups and downs of our Medicare so-called options," she continues, "primary physicians that accept it are difficult to find. Can you imagine?"

Mary's husband Stan, in a loud falsetto voice (he is aware of his friends' hearing problems), leans across the table and waggles his tanned finger at his golfing buddy Jim. "Are you still taking that Celebrex for your arthritis? It looked like you were in pain every time you set up your tee."

"Stan hates to take his meds," reports Stan's wife Margaret. “He'll take them if I stand there and watch him."

"Have you listened to the list of the side effects that's possible if you take it?" Sara is known for her penchant for checking the MayoClinic.com site for any and all health issues. Her friends have decided (incognito) that she is on the verge of becoming a hypochondriac.

As of a result of these boring examples, I've mapped out a mission-possible for my next gathering. I'll, skillfully and camouflaged as possible, change the subject when the topic of conversation doesn't fit the groups' "inquiring minds."

I rest my case that this scheme is not employed as a manipulative collaboration with my husband. It's only an experiment to keep the evening lively.

Food for thought list:

  1. What country would you chose to live if you had to move from the U.S.?
  2. Because of the advance of the Nook and Kindle, do you think that electronics will replace the bookstore culture?
  3. Do you think it's a mistake to move from your own home and locale to live closer to your adult children and grandchildren?

I'm eager to spring similar questions on my unknowing friends. I just hope I can remember what they are and on the appropriate cue.

There's a hand-painted, artsy sign that hangs in my laundry room that reads: "ACT OLD LATER." My take on these challenging years is to swallow my medicine (bitter or sweet) and not look for side effects.

Keep the music going. And too, I wouldn't mind a couple of curtain calls before the lights go out.

 

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