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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
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FORGETTING
When I began to write my “memoirs” I concentrated on my earliest years. Then, I shifted to telling my mother’s story. After several years of dredging up history, I shifted to observations of the world around me, and descriptions of my aging process.
As I thought about this transition, I realized that I was actually forgetting large pieces of my story. Facts that I had at my fingertips were no longer within reach. And there was another phenomenon: Recent events and experiences, recent films that I have seen, and books that I have read, faded from my memory within weeks.
Something is happening to my brain. I suspect it is the same thing that is happening to the brain of a lot of older people. Most of us have commented on it. A few of us fear that it is early Alzheimers. Things that were never a problem to remember, are being forgotten. Names, dates, where you put things. Even what you call things.
I started writing this, I named it Forgetting, I put it on the desktop of my computer, and then, closed the computer. When I wanted to go back to it, I forgot that I called it Forgetting. (end of 2014)
I just opened it up, and was surprised by what I found. I had no memory of having written this. Still, when I saw Dr. Taylor a few weeks ago, March 2015, he said I am doing better than 95% of people my age.
Original Format
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application/msword
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Title
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Forgetting
Creator
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Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"When I began to write my 'memoirs' I concentrated on my earliest years." (Fragment)
Date
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2015
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application/pdf
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FORGETTING
Aging
Fragment
Memory
Writing
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Dublin Core
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Title
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Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
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Eighty-eight
Today, December 18, 2015, I turn 88. I remember meeting an elderly jazz musician who said that if he knew he was going to live so long, he would have taken better care of himself. I have been pretty casual about the way I have taken care of myself. I smoked from the late 1940s to the early 1970s. I never worried about the sun—no hats or sunscreen during the summer. I was pretty sloppy about exercise. I did follow the advice I gave my children: everything in moderation, so I didn’t eat or drink excessively. I have been lucky.
Of course, I have slowed down a bit. Walking is getting harder. I have a balance problem. I have become more dependent on my cane, and also on my glasses and hearing aids. My reflexes are a bit slower, and my memory is not as sharp, but I don’t feel much different from 68. OK, 78.
I have observed on more than one occasion that I have been lucky in many ways: in work, in friends, and in family. I have also been lucky in the time and place I was born (1927, New York), the schools I attended, the organizations with which I have been associated, and the neighborhoods in which I lived.
I have worked from the time I was 14 in 1942, to my retirement at 70 in 1997. I loved my after-school jobs, while I went to Stuyvesant and CCNY, and I loved my after-graduation jobs, beginning with the ILGWU in 1950, and ending with the Fair Labor Practices Division of the Massachusetts Attorney General’s Office. I was the epitome of the person who did well by doing good. Over the 47 years of my “full-time” working life, I was primarily involved in two important causes: the labor movement and the civil rights movement. And I now enjoy Social Security and two nice pensions.
I have a group of friends dating back to junior high school. There aren’t too many people who can claim friendships of 75 years. Over the years, I have made countless friends and colleagues growing out of my involvement in three communities: the Jewish community, organized labor and civil rights. We have shared experiences, meals, meetings, conferences, rallies, picket lines, demonstrations, and even vacations. And I have had the good fortune of becoming part of my wives’ circle of friends.
And family! To have four such wonderful children! We recently celebrated my daughter Carol’s 60th birthday, and it was observed how fortunate she was to have her parents present. From my point of view, I felt blessed to have been there. She is happily married with a 10 year old son, Elliott, and she is involved in all the right causes. My son Lewis is both happily married and happily employed, and Carol’s celebration took place at Nina’s and his extensively and beautifully renovated home. My daughter Martha, also happily married to Mark, two artists with two terrific sons, Miles and Henry, are now living in Portland Oregon, awaiting job developments. And my son David started a new chapter in his life with a job in Pittsburgh.
And I am happily married. When the Brookline Senior Center was honoring Brooklineites who have been married over 50 years, I asked if I could be included, since I was married to my first wife for over 20 years, and my second wife for over 30 years.
Last year, when I turned 87, “four score and seven,” I wrote a take-off on Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. This year, as I turn 88, I went to the Chinese Supermarket, Super-88, to emphasize that I am Super-88. Eight is a very lucky number to the Chinese because it sounds like the word for wealth. Therefore you are twice as lucky at 88. Maybe 11 times as lucky. (The Chinese began the Summer Olympics in Beijing on 8/8/08 at 8 minutes and 8 seconds after 8 pm.) I am also lucky “Jewishly” having been born on the “18th” which is “Chai” which means life.
I have no idea what I will do next year, 12/18/16, but I have plenty of time to think about it. I am looking forward to a big blast for my 90th.
12-18-15
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Dublin Core
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Title
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Eighty-eight
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"Today, December 18, 2015, I turn 88."
Date
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2015-12-18
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application/pdf
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Eighty
Aging
Birthdays
Family
Observations
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
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DAY OF REST
I have a bumper sticker on my car that reads: “The Labor Movement. The Folks who Brought you the Weekend.” Long before unions won first a six, and then a five day work week, the Jews came up with the concept of “A Day of Rest.” I assume, before the Ten Commandments, most people worked from dawn to dusk seven days a week. No day was different from any other. It took Moses (or some other very creative individual) to provide a rationale for a day off from back-breaking labor.
The Fourth Commandment states: “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it, you shall not do any work…” Since God created the world in six days, and on the seventh day he rested, He therefore blessed it and made it holy. Therefore, we, and our children, and our servants, and our livestock should rest on the seventh day. Whatever explanation works for you. Observant Jews make rest on Saturday a must. I suspect there are more questions about what constitutes work on Shabbes than on any of the other Ten Commandments.
I have told the story over and over of my mother leaving her first job soon after she came to Toronto at the age of 16. She was a skilled sewer and had found work as an alteration tailor at Eaton’s Department Store. It was Friday and the foreman told her that she would have to come in the next day because they were very busy. She told him that she made it clear when she started that she does not work on Saturday. He said she would have to. She replied that she is leaving and wants her pay, and she quit.
Somewhere I heard that rather than “ Jews keep the Sabbath,” “Sabbath keeps the Jews.”
All the rituals, prohibitions, and traditions, that Jews observe, that makes them different, reinforce their identity. However, over the years, my observance has been diminishing, even though my identity as a Jew is as strong as ever.
To extend the parallel with which I started: It took a long time for organized labor to win a five day week. Many factories and stores worked a six day week. (Thank God that Christians picked up on the concept of “a day of rest.”) The norm became a five day, 40 hour week, with time and a half paid for overtime. When companies figured they can make more money working seven days a week (even paying overtime) they did it, and something happened to our society. There was no longer a difference between weekdays and the weekend. Which leads me to the point of this piece:
Since I have retired, every day has become a day of rest. And since I seldom go to shul on Saturday any more, the holiness of Saturday has diminished.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Day of Rest
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"I have a bumper sticker on my car that reads: 'The Labor Movement. The Folks who Brought you the Weekend'."
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2005-10
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DAY_OF_REST
Aging
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Jewish Identity
Judaism
Mother
Observations
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
A VISIT TO MY SISTER-IN-LAW
(with an unexpected end)
Sallie Miles is Fran’s older sister. She is a very likeable person. At times she appears a bit scatterbrained and helpless, but she managed to raise three children, worked, knows Rochester politics, and has a group of loyal friends. As a youngster, Sallie was pretty, blonde, and everyone liked her. Fran insists that if she and Sallie were walking down the street and both fell down, people would rush to help Sallie, and ignore Fran, convinced that Fran could take care of herself. Within the family, Fran, the middle child, was given the most responsibility. Jerry, the younger brother, played ball with his friends, married young, and moved to California.
Sallie’s husband, Larry Miles was a pleasant enough fellow. However, what struck me initially, was his habit of finishing my sentences for me. It may indicate how closely he was listening, but it was annoying, especially when he was wrong. Larry was an optician, or an optometrist, I am not sure which. I am also not sure what the difference is. Larry also had a good singing voice and had been part of a chorus in Rochester. Why they moved to Rochester, I have no idea. Most likely for a job. (I am sure I can get the answer to a lot of questions about Sallie, Larry, their children and Rochester, from Fran, but I have chosen not to.ask her.)
About 15 years ago, Larry decided to leave Sallie for a woman he met in the chorus. (Not a chorus girl.) They left Rochester and moved to Brooklyn. Unfortunately, he made no provision for Sallie when he left. Larry died about five years ago, and because his second wife was wealthy, he was able to leave money for each of the three children.
The three children are very different from each other. What they have in common, as Fran observes, is that they have all remained in Rochester, close to their mother. Very few parents that I know have their children close by.
The oldest, Bruce, impressed me, right off the bat. I first met him before Fran and I married. He had come to Boston with a girl friend and was showing her the sights. He was still in college, and made it clear to me in our conversation (where he did not attempt to finish my sentences) that what he wanted out of life was to make money and have a good time. He was smart and (a word I don’t remember having used before) brash. I also liked the fact that after Fran and I married, he called me uncle Jake.
Within a few years, he married Sue, bought a bar in downtown Rochester, had two boys, and bought another bar. Then came divorce, and another very pretty, very blonde young woman, Theresa. Bruce decided to move into the big time. He bought a fancy restaurant, overextended himself, and as a result of the recession, lost it and went into debt. His boys were doing well in school. He and Theresa now had a little girl, and Bruce started digging himself out of the hole, as he described it. From landscaping—grass cutting and snow shoveling—he is now “flipping houses.” He buys foreclosed homes, fixes them up (with a crew that he has assembled) and resells them.
Karen is a smart, pretty, petite young woman who was always a rebel. She finished college, married John, found work at a state school for troubled youngsters, and had a daughter. Within a few years it was discovered that the baby had leukemia. For the next several years, her life was centered around the treatment of her daughter, who recovered, Karen divorced John, found Angel who worked at the same facility, and she lives her life.
Steven, the youngest, completed college, met and married Rhonda, and found a job in the car loan department of a bank. Rhonda’s mother has a successful store that sells used clothes, and Rhonda works with her. Rhonda came from a close-knit Italian family, and Steven was a welcome addition. They had a daughter, Nina, bought a house, and Rhonda is into martial arts and Steven is into the N Y Yankees. Where early on, when we visited Rochester, Fran and I would stay with Bruce, we now stay with Steven.
In the past, when we visited Rochester, we drove. These days, we fly. After months of planning for this trip, we made a reservation on an evening flight leaving Thursday, July 9, which would not require Fran to rush. Our flight was supposed to leave at 8:55 pm. At 7 am, I received a recorded call that said the flight would be delayed by a half hour. Then another call saying that it would leave as originally planned. Then another call that it would be late. We left the house with the understanding that it would be a half hour late. It was two hours late. It was nice having David drive us to the airport and pick us up.
I had asked Steven to pick us up in Rochester, because I did not want to drive to his house in the dark, and then to take me back to the airport in the morning to pick up a rental car. Rhonda did the picking up for which we were very grateful. We have a new routine when we fly. We request a wheelchair for Fran, and the people who push the wheelchairs are very thoughtful and solicitous, and obviously low paid. They seem always surprised and delighted when we tip them. Almost all are foreign born at Logan—Haitian and Albanian this time around. In Rochester, mostly African American. They push Fran and I push Fran’s walker. Going through security is no better than before, but now we do not have to take off our shoes.
Fran and I have visited Rochester a number of times over the years, and I like the city. It has come on hard times. Neither Kodak nor Xerox nor Hickey Freeman are what they were. On several occasions, we extended our visit to include Niagara Falls, Buffalo, Toronto, and Canandaigua and the Finger Lakes. This visit was to spend time with Sallie and the family. No side trips. Still, I figured we would be able to get to the Eastman House, the Memorial Art Gallery, Lake Ontario, and maybe the Corn Hill Arts Festival taking place that weekend.
Sallie is now a resident of the Jewish Home, (“moishav zakeynim”) thanks to Steven who volunteers there from time to time. She has been failing over the past several years: her eyesight, her hearing, but most seriously, her diabetes, which caused her not to realize how hot the water was in her bathtub, resulting in the loss of several toes. The facility, and the care Sallie is receiving are excellent. She has a pleasant room, and everyone knows and likes her.
On Friday, I picked up a rental car, and we made our first visit to Sallie. The following morning, we returned and attended services with Sallie and a friend. It was a bit overwhelming to see a sanctuary filled with old people in wheelchairs. The Rabbi was wonderful, and had the words of the Siddur up on a screen, supplementing the specially prepared printed prayer book. Sallie expressed her disappointment to the Rabbi that there was no Kiddush following services. The Rabbi explained that it was because of the many dietary restrictions among the residents.
We returned to the Jewish Home for a big family get-together Chinese dinner in the Atrium of the facility, which Steven arranged. It was a great opportunity to catch up, and Fran distributed presents to everyone, including rings that lit up . Sallie, the matriarch, looked delighted. The Saturday Chinese dinner was such a success that Steven decided to follow it up with a Sunday afternoon barbeque at his house. This gave me the opportunity to go to the Memorial art Gallery in the morning while Fran slept. The barbeque was another winner. It was good to see everyone together.
Monday morning, our last day, I decided to do some more sightseeing. I drove up to Irondequoit and Lake Ontario, pleased how easily I was getting around with my GPS. As I started to return home, I drove into a narrow side street to make a U turn. I backed up, went forward, and as I started to back up again, the car went into drive instead of reverse, into the bushes of a home on the side street. I was horrified. Those few seconds will remain with me forever. I have a picture of a bright light flashing the instant the car went forward. I assume my foot shifted automatically to the brake as the car went forward, but too late.
I got out of the car and stared at the car’s front end in the bushes. The woman living in the house got out and stared at me staring at the car. She asked if I was all right. I said no, considering what just happened. She said she will call 911. I said I was not hurt, just shaken. She called anyway.
Within a few minutes, a fire truck and a police car appeared. I had pulled the car back and saw that the fender had been damaged. The woman said that it was lucky that I had not hit her car or the house. Was I lucky! I was also lucky because I was not hurt, and the car was drivable.
Three EMT firemen proceeded to take my blood pressure, temperature, pulse, and asked me a bunch of questions, including whether I wanted to go to the hospital. The police officer asked for my driver’s license, and the car rental papers, and proceeded to fill out an “Accident Information Exchange Form.” I was told to give the form to the car rental agency. They could not have been nicer. It pays to be an old white man in these circumstances. I don’t believe anyone asked if I had been drinking.
When the fire truck and police car left, I got back in the car, set the GPS for Steven’s house, and made my way back to Rochester. It was not the kind of morning I had planned. In the afternoon, we returned to the Jewish Home, picked up Sallie and went with her to the Eastman House. We were not aware that the museum was closed, but they were having a reception for seniors, complete with refreshments (strawberry short cake and lemonade) and a jazz band. It pays to be a senior.
Back to the Jewish Home, said goodbye to Sallie. Returned to Steven’s, packed and said goodbye to Steven, Rhonda and Nina. Drove to the car rental return after filling up the gas tank, and returned the damaged car. Filled out a “Loss/Damage Detail Report.” We then made our way to the terminal with the help of a wonderful wheelchair pusher named Mitchell.
While waiting to board the plane, I thought about the business of rental car insurance, which I never take. Maybe it is time to take it. However, I was told that my credit card company insures you, so it is not necessary. And your car insurance would also cover rental car accidents. But then your rate will go up. I am going the credit card insurance route. I notified them, gave them all the information, and am now waiting to see what happens.
Unasked is the question: Did the accident occur because I am getting too old? Reflexes getting slow? I do not believe so. It was an unfamiliar gear shift. It could happen to anyone. Still…I try no longer to drive at night. I am aware that there are rare times that my right foot can’t find the accelerator or brake. Last year, instead of buying a new car, I leased one for two years. The reason: I suspect I will stop driving when the lease is up.
I am now planning a big auto trip in October. We will drive to Binghamton for Amira Stern-Zakha’s Bat Mitzvah; then to Carlisle PA to visit my cousin Bobby and his family; then to David in Pittsburgh; then a leisurely drive back home. Happy Trails.
7-25-15
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
A Visit to My Sister-In-Law
(with an unexpected end)
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"Sallie Miles is Fran’s older sister. She is a very likeable person."
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-07-25
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
2015
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
A_VISIT_TO_MY_SISTER
Aging
Cousins
Family
Fran
Rochester
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
WARNING!
If you are 80 years or older:
DO NOT PUT ANYTHING IN A PLACE OTHER THAN THE PLACE IN WHICH IT IS USUALLY PUT! IF YOU DO, IT WILL TAKE YOU A VERY LONG TIME TO FIND IT!
If you return home and open the door, and then rush to the bathroom, do NOT put your keys on (or in) the first place that you pass. If you usually hang up your keys, hang up your keys! If you usually put them in your purse, put them in your purse. If you usually put them in your pocket, put them in your pocket. If you usually put them in your desk drawer, put them in your desk drawer. Otherwise, you will not remember where you put them, and when you go to get your keys, you will not know where to look.
You will not have remembered putting them down on the kitchen counter when you rushed into the house. You will automatically go to the place in which the keys are usually found. They will not be there. You will then try to reconstruct where you might have put them, but short term memory being what it is, you will not be able to remember.
Did you leave them in your coat? You will go to your coat and not find them. Did you leave them in your car? Of course not; how would you have gotten in, if you left them in the car? So they must be in the house. Where in the house? Perhaps they fell to the floor. You look all over the floor, despite the fact that it is getting hard to bend down (and to see). The keys are not on the floor.
Perhaps on the table near the entrance. You look on the table, and then you look behind the table. The keys are not there. You then check the living room, the dining room, the bedroom. Nothing. Perhaps you took them with you when you went to the bathroom. They are not on the sink and they are not on the bathroom floor. They could not have fallen into the toilet. They would have made a noise loud enough for you to hear it.
As a last resort, you go into the kitchen, and there on the kitchen counter are the keys! A wise person once observed that a lost or misplaced object is always found in the last place you looked for it. Unfortunately, we are never wise enough to look there first.
The same applies to glasses, hearing aids, loose change, mail, newspapers, magazines, books, cell phones, cordless phones, credit cards etc.
Repeat after me: DO NOT PUT ANYTHING IN A PLACE OTHER THAN THE PLACE IN WHICH IT IS USUALLY PUT.
12-26-14
Original Format
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application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Warning!
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"If you are 80 years or older: DO NOT PUT ANYTHING IN A PLACE OTHER THAN THE PLACE IN WHICH IT IS USUALLY PUT!"
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2014-12-26
Format
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application/pdf
Type
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text
Language
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en
Coverage
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2014
Identifier
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WARNING
Aging
Humor
Observations
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59474af1683cc2fede9fceee45b16ee6
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
THE RACE IS ON
By now, most everyone has heard that smart-ass remark of some of my contemporaries: “I don’t even buy green bananas.” It is said by folks who think they are being clever. They are the same people who refer to south Florida as “God’s waiting room.”
I do buy green bananas, and I don’t refer to south Florida as God’s waiting room. But what I find myself doing more and more, is looking around my home for things I should use up before I shuffle off this mortal coil. I mentioned some time ago that, since I was a teen-ager, I have been saving blocks of commemorative postage stamps in anticipation of there dramatic increase in value. They have not increased in value so what I have been doing is using them on letters and packages. I had accumulated so many, I may not be able to use them all up. The race is on. Can I use up the stamps before I am used up?
A related item to stamps: note cards. I cannot go to a museum without stopping at the museum store and browsing through their collection of art reproduction note cards. They always have dozens of boxes featuring different artists, and I always end up buying one or two boxes, and some post cards. What really makes my day is when I find, in a corner of the store, note card boxes of an artist that had been featured in a show. The show has moved on, but the boxes have remained, and the museum wants to get rid of them. And they mark them down, usually half price! There is nothing the matter with them. If the artist deserved to be featured last month, his or her work is still worthy of being bought, admired and mailed.
A number of charities send potential contributors attractive note cards, for which they expect a contribution. Sometimes I send a contribution, sometimes I don’t. The charities keep sending them, and they keep accumulating, along with the museum note cards. I have therefore decided not to buy any more special occasion greeting cards. Instead, I take one of my pretty note cards and write “Happy Birthday,” Happy Anniversary,” “Happy New Year,” “Get Well Soon,” Congratulations on Your Graduation, Bar or Bat Mitzvah, Wedding, New Home etc. This way I can kill two birds with one stone. I get rid of both stamps and note cards. The race is on.
Over the years, whenever we stayed in a hotel, motel, or on a cruise ship, we would abscond with those fancy bars of soap that they provide. The fancier the accommodations, the fancier the soap. I don’t think we fooled the chambermaid. Nobody is that clean that they use two bars of soap a day. We come home with a healthy supply. You might say we cleaned up. We squirrelled them away, under the sink or in a drawer. The time has come to use them. We will stop buying soap at CVS or Stop and Shop, and start using our stash. We can also give them as gifts, but I suspect the potential recipients have their own soap from their own trips. The ones who don’t, like my grandchildren, wouldn’t appreciate it. The race is on.
Tea bags have been proliferating in our kitchen and pantry. Fran can not resist the exotic tea bags that seem to be sold everywhere. Growing up, I was unaware of anything but Liptons, Tetley, Swee-touch-nee, or Red Rose. And loose tea. You buy a box of tea bags, and when you are running low, you buy another. During the depression, many families “shared” a tea bag, making two cups from one bag, or even putting a bag, that was only used once, in a saucer to be used a second time. No more. Today’s homes, including mine, have dozens of boxes of a wide variety of teas: green tea, black tea, herbal tea, organic tea, caffeine-free tea, fruit tea, artichoke tea, chamomile tea. One package describes the tea as “a cheerful blend of aromatic fruits flavors and spices.” Another, Bigelow Blueberry Harvest Herb Tea, “rich and bursting with blueberry flavor.” Though we present several boxes whenever we have friends over, I don’t believe we will ever run through them all. The race is on.
Finally, there are a few more items that I feel I should use up, but doubt that I will. One is writing implements. From time to time, I bought packages of a dozen yellow number 2, wooden pencils. At other times, I helped myself at the offices in which I worked. Now, pencils in my home are everywhere. I put rubber bands around bunches of them, and stick them in desk drawers. Another bunch is in a container on my desk. I find I use them hardly at all.
Then, the transition was made from pencil to ball point pen. Wherever you went, you were given ball point pens. Most had advertising printed on them. The hotels and motels that supplied me with soap, also supplied me with ball point pens. Other institutions had fancier ball point pens with pocket clips and a button on the top, enabling you to extend (?) and retract the point. They also had advertising, but fancier. Now I have more ball point pens than pencils. One thing I learned about ball point pens: They dry out and die. I have had to throw out several old ones. So part of the race is to use up the old ones before they dry out. The other part of the race is to use up the rest before I dry out and die.
12-27-14
Original Format
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application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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The Race is On
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"By now, most everyone has heard that smart-ass remark of some of my contemporaries: 'I don’t even buy green bananas'."
Date
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2014-12-27
Format
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application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
THE_RACE_IS_ON
Aging
Hobbies
Observations
Shopping
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
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- TENNIS
Sitting in the corner of my room, behind my two-drawer filing cabinet, is my last tennis racket. It is a “Prince Classic.” And it is a pretty classy “classic.” Aluminum (not graphite—that’s for pencils) with green trim, tightly strung, 27 inches, 4 ½ inch grip, with a white and green cover. I really liked that racket. When it was time for me to get a new racket—about 25 years ago, I decided to treat myself. I haven’t used it in years. I guess it is time to pass it on to “Goodwill.”
Growing up in the East Bronx in the late ‘30s, early ‘40s, the idea of playing tennis was inconceivable. It was a rich man’s sport, like golf. There were no tennis courts around, just as there were no golf courses. What we played was handball. All you needed was a spauldeen (the pink rubber ball made by Spaulding) and a wall. (Real handball players used a small black ball, but we weren’t real handball players.) When we wanted to play ball, we would grab our spauldeen, call a friend, and head for the schoolyard. PS 39, across the street on Longwood Avenue, had the perfect wall. However, if we wanted variety, we would go to JHS 52, four blocks away, which had a back wall. This enabled us to play off the back wall, something like squash. Our friend Mel gave this variation of handball the name “cootchie.” And he always beat us.
In Stuyvesant High School, we had a tennis team, but of course, none of us played. Mel was the first to pick up a racket. He had moved to the West Bronx where some of his new friends played the game. By the time we entered college, several of us decided to give it a shot. We bought our first rackets and a can of balls, and felt like Joe College getting out on a tennis court. The only tennis court that I can remember was in Pelham Bay Park. There must have been others. Possibly, Crotona Park. None within walking distance. I believe we had to buy a tennis pass to use the municipal courts.
In 1957, we moved to Brooklyn. I played occasionally, but was never really proficient at the game. I had a nice wooden racket, I believe it was a Slazenger. I also had a nice wooden racket press, to keep the nice wooden racket from warping. The strings were restrung a couple times. I often played with balls which had lost their bounce, and on courts where the nets sagged, and the surface was cracked and uneven. It really didn’t matter. I struggled to learn how to serve, and to keep score: 15-love, deuce, ad, etc. Most of the time, we just hit the ball back and forth until someone missed. We noticed that many people playing tennis were dressed in tennis whites and wore white tennis shoes. We wore shorts and a T shirt and the only pair of sneakers we owned. We also picked up the little courtesies of returning balls which came onto your court.
For three or four summers, in the early ‘60s, the family spent a month at a bungalow colony on Bantam Lake in Connecticut. There was one tennis court, in terrible shape, seldom used, and every weekend Irv Pfefferblit and I would play for about an hour in the morning and then again, in the afternoon. We were fairly evenly matched, though he may have been a little better than me. One Sunday afternoon as we were leaving the court, someone’s weekend guest commented, “For someone who plays so much tennis, you sure play a lousy game.” It was true, but I did not want to correct him with regard to how much tennis I played.
We moved to Washington D.C. in 1965, and I continued to play occasionally. My proficiency had not improved. Yet I was able to introduce my son Lewis to the game. We played at a nearby tennis court in Takoma Park, and we would hit the ball back and forth. I taught him how to grip the racket, how to hit the ball, how to serve, and how to keep score. The following summer, we discovered that the District of Columbia had a tennis camp, and Lewis attended, and he really learned how to play tennis. The next time we played, it was clear that he was better than me. I continued to play.
My work with the US Civil Right Commission was not all work. I looked forward to the meetings of the regional directors which rotated among the cities where we had regional offices. In the south and west, many of the hotels in which we stayed had tennis courts, and many of the regional directors played tennis. This was my introduction to “doubles.” By this time, I had been following professional tennis, and watched the US Open and Wimbleton, singles, doubles and mixed doubles, thinking I can pick up some pointers.
Whenever my friends and I had the opportunity, we played. I have fond memories of playing tennis with Sid in Stockbridge. I think that Mel, Sid, Bob and I even played doubles once or twice. Mel was in a class by himself. He had a serve none of us could return. I had a serve which landed in the opposite court about half the time. Sometimes, my friends let me bounce the ball and hit it, rather than toss it up.
After Fran and I married, we visited her friends Fran and Raymond in Hunter NY, during the summer. They had a tennis court nearby, and Raymond and I would play. He insisted on keeping score, and he beat me most of the time. Coming off the court around 1988 or 1989, my knees were killing me. I took some painkiller. We played again the next day. The pain was worse. Getting out of the car, after we drove home, I could hardly stand.
My doctor told me I had osteoarthritis. Should I continue playing tennis? If I don’t mind the pain. Take some painkiller. So I took some painkiller. I played less. The arthritis got worse. I had an injection of some steroid, and then orthoscopic surgery. I tried glucosamine, chondroitin, and finally in 2008, knee replacement surgery on my right knee—the worse one.
In 2004, we moved into the Brook House, a great condominium with lots of extras, including tennis courts. But by this time, I had trouble walking, let alone playing tennis. When I was younger, I would have killed for courts like these. I did hit a tennis ball with a friend once or twice, but that was it. A couple of years after the surgery, I decided I would hit the ball against the wall like the old days, just to get the feel of the racket. It felt good. However, it was painful, trying to run after the ball, and bending down. I tried it again some months later. This time, my feet got tangled up going for a back hand, and I tripped and fell. That was the last time I used my racket, which is now going to Goodwill. I hope someone will enjoy it.
7-30-14
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Tennis
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"Sitting in the corner of my room, behind my two-drawer filing cabinet, is my last tennis racket."
Date
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2014-07-30
Format
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application/pdf
Type
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text
Language
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en
Coverage
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1935/2014
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
TENNIS
Aging
Hobbies
Reading Out Loud (R.O.L.)
Sports
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Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
PLANNING FOR MY LAST YEARS
(into the sunset; leaving the fair)
I prefer the term “Last Years” rather than “End of Life.” And I may be kidding myself, but I don’t think, in our family, dealing with this should be much of a problem. As Fran keeps saying, we are very lucky. She has survived lung cancer. I have no serious medical issues. Except for some mobility issues, we are managing. Other problems, which are not life-threatening, are hearing loss, memory loss, a bit of sight loss, a balance problem, and inability to keep up with technological advances. My reflexes are fine, but I don’t like to drive at night. I just saw my opthamologist (?) and may have a cataract removed from my right eye before the year is out.
We are updating our will. Initially, I was Fran’s Health Care Proxy, and Durable Power of Attorney etc. and she was mine. We are now considering David, and both Carol and Lewis as backup. Same for Executor. We will talk. When the will is revised, we will talk about that too.
I think it is self-evident that I do not want any “life sustaining procedures” when there is no reasonable expectation of recovery or that I will be left without a “meaningful quality of life.” So, when I die, let’s have a nice funeral in a nice funeral home (looks like Brezniak Rodman). David has been involved in “tahara” so he now knows about such things.. My body will be taken care of ritually, placed in a plain pine box and will sit in front of the chapel, and my children and a friend (Bob?) will say nice things about me. Write a nice obit for the Boston Globe, the Jewish Advocate and the NY Times. Get the word out. (I’ll put together a list.) I would like a nice crowd. Notify CCNY to have an obit in the Alumnus, and that I won’t be paying dues any more. For someone to officiate, ask Reb Moshe Waldoks. Tell him to keep it short and light, which he would do anyway, unless I have a horrible death, which I don’t expect to.
As Fran pointed out, we have two graves—Section U Right, grave numbers 12 and 13, near Libby, Polonnoe Cemetery, Baker St. West Roxbury, Cert. 1513, issued Jan. 26, 1999. We hope to pre-pay all the burial costs. I will think about what I would like to have engraved on the monument. If you have any ideas, please share them with me. I have no desire for music at my funeral.
What bad things might happen before I die? Heart attack, stroke, serious fall or car accident, brain injury, or one of those terrible neurological diseases like Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s. The fact is, I don’t expect any of them to happen, and I do not think I am unrealistic. I will keep on keeping on. I will get a little weaker, though I plan to start an exercise regimen as soon as I finish writing this. I will get more forgetful, but so is everyone around me. I will go to fewer meetings. I will walk less. I may bore people with stories, and may even forget the point of the story. But if all goes well, we will celebrate my 90th birthday, in 3 ½ years, observing how lucky I am that I am still healthy, and I have such wonderful children and such a wonderful wife.
I am lucky to have Medicare and GIC. Our lawyer will tell me how to get Medicaid if it comes to that. I was rejected for long term care insurance, which saved me several thousand dollars a year for the past several years.
I hope to “age in place,” perhaps as I get older, I may need a little help from a home health aid. I would like to keep out of “an institution.” Fran wants to die at home. If I have been taken to a hospital and they can not do anything to reverse what took me there, and if it looks like I am going pretty soon, what’s the difference.
What about my possessions when I die? I like the idea of all my children inventorying the apartment, and selecting things which they would want to have. My mother’s things in the cabinet have special meaning to me. As Fran pointed out, almost all of our wealth is in the condo. I would guess it should be worth over $600,000. Split four ways, that’s $150,000 a piece. Not bad.
I have two education accounts for Henry and Elliott, which now have close to $3000 each. Hopefully they will grow as H and E grow. Every little bit helps.
In a file drawer in the lower right hand corner of my desk are all my financial papers: bills (which none of you has to worry about), condo papers, bank account, income tax, life insurance, mutual funds, social security, federal and state pension info, and car info—insurance, repair, registration etc.
In consultation with our lawyer, David Smith, we will update and fill in all the blanks in our wills. I may set up a trust, and will leave some money to my favorite organizations. We will do what is called Estate Planning. We will try to avoid probate, and minimize taxes. We will try to minimize the work you will have to do. Hopefully, everything will go smoothly, and when I go, (peacefully, quickly and with a minimum of pain) you will be able to say he was a good father, he led a good life, he tried to make this a “shenere un besere velt” and we will miss him. It will not be necessary to say that I was a “mensch.” As long as my children will be good, kind, generous, thoughtful, helpful, creative, have a sense of humor, be concerned about, and involved in, ending poverty, exploitation, racism, sexism, war, disease, and climate change, I will be happy.
Your loving father,
Jacob Schlitt
6-24-14
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Planning for my Last Years
(into the sunset; leaving the fair)
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"I prefer the term 'Last Years' rather than 'End of Life.'"
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2014-06-24
Format
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application/pdf
Type
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text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Coverage
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2014
Identifier
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PLANNING_FOR_MY_LAST_YEARS
Aging
Death
Family
Letter
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ca28ef8d886ca0808d48ffb57f8d72f7
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
End of life
I find it interesting that my son Lewis is concerned about “end of life” issues. I never asked him what prompted this concern. Possibly, Nina’s experience, having lost her father. Or someone else’s experience. Or Sylvia may have raised it. Or possibly, just the realization that his parents are getting old, and somebody will have to deal with the many questions that come up as we go down.
Fran and I certainly have to deal with the issue as it relates to each other. About 15 years ago, we had a will prepared. We are now preparing another will with new health care proxies and powers of attorney etc. We have a cemetery plot. However, we are shifting our business from Levine’s to Brezniak’s Funeral Home. But what I have been thinking about recently is that moment when one of us discovers that the other is dying. It might be an automobile accident; it might be a terrible fall. It might be a malfunction of some organ, like a heart attack, or a stroke. What do we do?
If one is around, call 911. If no one is around, and we are aware of what is happening, that is when it is good to have one of those medic alert devices. I intend to get one for each of us after we come back from our cruise. Have to find out which is the best. (I have subsequently been discouraged from getting it.)
The likelihood of falling is becoming greater. I have become more unsteady, and Fran has had a couple of falls. So what happens when something bad happens? I guess we end up in a hospital, most likely Beth Israel. And most likely Dr. Taylor will be in the picture, and most likely there will be a specialist attending to us. Everyone knows, no heroic measures. The children will come, friends will be notified. If we are not lucky enough to go quickly, and it is getting to the end, we may go into hospice. (Dr. Taylor is retiring. We will be getting another PCP.)
There was an article in the Jewish Advocate about Hebrew Senior Life Hospice Care, which made it sound nice. And my old friend Rabbi Herman Blumberg is the Rabbinic Director. If you have been diagnosed as incurable, and your life expectancy is 6 months or less, you are in. They take a “holistic view of patient needs.” (I never was quite sure what holistic meant—Holy or wholly? They “strive for comfort and quality of life.” Terrific. Better than dying in a hospital.
Another aspect of end of life relates to cost. It can be expensive. If you need 24 hour care, and if you exhaust Medicare, it can be a problem. Our lawyer, who is preparing our will, said that we should be able to get Medicaid without getting wiped out. Something else we need to look into.
There was still another article in the NY Times about “pulling the plug.” When do you want it to be over? When is life no longer worth living? When you are—a terrible word—a vegetable. You no longer function. You just lie there. You don’t speak, you don’t think, you don’t recognize anyone or anything. You don’t even eat; you are fed through a tube. No thank you. Some people think a miracle may occur. Not likely.
Right now, I am aware of my present limitations, and how they are slowly getting worse. I am talking about mobility and balance problems. But my guess is that I will continue like this for some time. There may be actions I can take to slow down the getting worse, but that is the best I can expect. There will be no reversing the process. I have been given several exercises to deal with balance and leg strengthening, which should help me avoid falls.
August 5, 2014
It is November 3, 2016. More than 2 years since I wrote the above. I am still concerned about balance. I had a problem involving my enlarged prostate, which at the moment does not seem to be life-threatening. I realize we have to conclude plans for the end of life issues. I promise to get to it. I promise.
Original Format
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application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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End of Life
Creator
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Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"I find it interesting that my son Lewis is concerned about 'end of life' issues."
Date
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2014-08-05/2016-11-03
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applicaiton/pdf
Type
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text
Language
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en
Identifier
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End_of_life
Aging
Health
Illness
Lewis
Observations
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
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Autobiographical writing
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BEHAVIORAL DIFFERENCES AS I AGE
I have come to realize that we behave differently as we age. I know it is no great insight. In fact, it is obvious. Certain “things” I once seldom utilized, I find myself utilizing more and certain other “things” that I once utilized a great deal, I no longer utilize. Let me give you three examples:
SHIRT POCKETS: When I was young, I never much thought about shirt pockets. If I had, I would have viewed them as decorations. On dress shirts, they were on the left side. On sport shirts, there were two shirt pockets, one on either side. They were also called breast pockets, which caused me to snicker when I was young. I remember a cartoon from World War II showing a very well endowed WAC Private standing at attention before a WAC Sergeant who was yelling, “Empty those pockets, Private!”
Anyway, when I was young, not only did I not think about shirt pockets, I didn’t use them. Whatever I had that needed to be pocketed went into my pants pockets. Then as now: a wallet, a comb, keys, a handkerchief, and loose change. However, these days I have a few more possessions that need to be pocketed from time to time, and the shirt pocket is the perfect place for them.
First and foremost are my hearing aids. I find, when I am no longer around people and do not expect to hear anything, I take them out. And where do I put them? Exactly. In my shirt pocket. They are safe there, and they are easily retrievable. In fact, I usually throw an extra battery in my shirt pocket in case a hearing aid battery dies.
I am reluctant to admit it, but I do the same thing, but much less frequently, with my partial dentures. Dentures (which used to be called false teeth) are never like the teeth they replaced. Sometimes, food finds its way under your denture, or your gums become irritated. I then leave wherever I am, locate a bathroom, remove my denture, wash it and place it in a Kleenex, and deposit it in my shirt pocket.
Finally, whenever I go shopping and use my credit card, I take it out of my wallet, give it to the sales person or cashier, and when it is returned to me, rather than take out my wallet (which I have returned to my pants pocket), I put my credit card in my shirt pocket. By doing this, I do not delay the line behind me any longer than necessary. Of course, there are times when I return home, and forgot that I put my credit card in my shirt pocket. I panic, thinking that I lost it, since it is not in my wallet where it belongs. I have become very dependent on my shirt pocket.
THEATRE MATINEES: When I was a teenager and discovered Broadway, a whole new world opened up. There was something magical about live actors on a stage. And a stage transformed into another world. I graduated from movies, and instead of going on a date to a movie house downtown, I started ordering theatre tickets by mail, or buying them in advance at the box office. And when did I go to the theatre? Saturday night! That was date night. And years later, and married, we still went to the theatre on Saturday night. If I could not get tickets for a show for a Saturday night, I would settle for another night. But never, in the furthest stretch of the imagination, would I think of going to a matinee, whether Wednesday, Saturday or Sunday.
Who would go to a darkened theatre when it was light outside? Daytime is for work or play or shopping or visiting or sightseeing. When you were a kid, you went to the movies in the daytime, but not when you got older. How times have changed! These days, when we go to the theatre and to concerts, it is always a matinee. I no longer care to drive at night. Being retired, Wednesday matinees make a lot of sense.
Our senior center has a theatre club which buys blocks of tickets and provides a bus which takes us to various shows, weekend matinees. Looking around the theatre, there is hardly anyone under 70. So nice of them to have matinees. And so much more convenient to go to the theatre in the daytime.
STAIRS: When I was younger, if I had the choice between taking an elevator or taking the stairs for less than five flights, there never was any question: the stairs. I was always impatient. I had places to go and things to do. I didn’t have time to wait around for an elevator. If it was not there when I was there, I would take the stairs. I lived in an elevator house, on the sixth floor, into my 20s, and most of the time, when going down, I would run down the stairs, usually two at a time. Going up and down the subway stairs, I was usually the first. I was annoyed when a building required you to take the elevator. If there was an escalator, I would run up and down them. I was always on the go.
And now, oh boy! In 2003 we moved out of our lovely house into a condominium with an elevator, largely because the stairs were becoming a problem. Am I glad we did it. It was getting harder to negotiate the stairs, and over the past few years, I have been unable to do stairs without holding on to a railing. And to think I once practically flew over them. At the senior center, I have a weekly class on the third floor. More than half my classmates, around my age, insist on walking. I am impressed. My excuse: arthritis, knee replacement and neuropathy.
One final observation joining theatre, stairs and shirt pockets: When I was young, I always sat in the balcony (in the evening). Mostly because they were the cheaper seats. And now, it is the orchestra (in the afternoon). No climbing. And to bring it full circle: Today, when I go to the theatre, I not only don’t do stairs, and go only to matinees, but I have to take out my hearing aids, put them in my shirt pocket and use the device that the theatre provides, enabling us to hear even better.
12-16-14
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Behavioral Differences As I Age
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"I have come to realize that we behave differently as we age."
Date
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2014-12-16
Format
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application/pdf
Type
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text
Language
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en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Different_views_as_we_get_older
Aging
Observations