Old Men Grooving

So you think you still can't dance huh?

Well, you still have the music in you.

Dance to the beat.

Let "Old Men Grooving" remind you how!

Old Men Grooving bust a move, and maybe their backs! - "Britain's Got Talent 2015"

Old Men Grooving  - Semi Finals - "Britain's Got Talent 2015"

Get your groove back.

Keep on keeping on. ;-)

Video's courtesy of "Britain's Got Talent" and YouTube

Living with Bipolar Disorder

I spent all last year suffering from bipolar disorder.

Not to worry, I found the cure: Divorce.

I don’t in anyway mean to make light of this disorder or this subject. I lived with and loved deeply a man who was diagnosed in middle age with bipolar disorder and managed it well through medication, humor and great adventures.

The man I knew had (has) the biggest heart in the world. He is accomplished and brilliant --- internationally recognized in his profession. He is talented, committed, adventurous and genuinely one of the good people on this earth. His life’s commitment had been to care for others and protect Mother Earth.

Then last year, he decided that pot was more important than family and friends. And, if he hadn’t quit taking his medications (suspected) then the pot was interfering with their effectiveness. From good guy to mean, angry, selfish and hurtful. I came to call him “180” because the change was so drastic and apparent to everyone around him.

The National Institutes of Health estimate that 5.7 million American’s over the age of 18 will develop this disorder every year, about 2.6% of the population. 180 often commented on how his medications dulled his senses. He said he couldn’t feel great happiness, excitement, or sadness.

He is now, he says, living his authentic bipolar life, which on some level, seems like he has the right to do. Of course, not everyone has the right to do everything and anything they want to do at the expense and harm to others. So now I wonder if the cost of his choice is too great when it victimizes those around him, those who care?

Life changes course at times in ways we never expect. I thought (for the second time) that I was going to be married for life…that I’d found someone who “got me” and vice versa.

I did, but just for a fixed period of time.

It was good and adventurous while it lasted. Our travels took us to South Africa, Bali, Malaysia, Tioman Island, Swaziland, England, the Yucatan Peninsula, with lots of U.S explorations in between. We cooked up our own close to home adventures as well and dragged our family in…like building an igloo. I can’t complain and I don’t regret.

This is an illness that requires understanding and support. It can be controlled and suffers can have whole and productive lives by their own and others’ standards. However, that control and maintenance has to be driven by the individual with the disorder. Those around him are at times helpless to protect him --- and others --- from his actions.

So this chapter ended for me because we others around 180 couldn’t and shouldn’t sacrifice our own health and needs to the demands of his disorder.

I’m thankful for having known the good guy. I’m fine in my own place in the world.

Poop! Aging jokes aren't so funny anymore

Poop!

Well, poop!

Well, poop already!

Remember when the jokes made by “old people” about bodily functions were funny not because we understood them or experienced them, but because our parents told us it was wrong to talk out loud about them?

The shock effect made them funny.

            The they-never-get-old fart jokes ("Blazing Saddles" need I say more?)

                        and then

            The constipation and bowel movement jokes flushed out the line-up.

           

Noisy knees and stubborn backs…

           

Jokes about memory loss --- You know, the ones they remembered they’d

forgotten.

                        “Oh, you tell it.”

                        “No, you go ahead.”

                        “No, you…”

AND THEN

            Old people and “sex” jokes! Eek!

(A friend tells me that in her 55+ community farting is a common as breathing, though the resident association strongly recommends that one not be done in close promixity to the other.)

Remember, this was when we didn’t get the reality of the jokes because our bodies moved us fluently, transparently through the world. We didn’t even process that we’d just squatted, kneeled, done the splits, tumbled, danced all night, climbed a mountain. We just did what we did because we could. That’s what our bodies were for.

From new car to old car (I’m from a car state folks) eventually something’s got to give.

The bodies we trusted mindlessly, the ones too many of us invested only minimal maintenance in have changed with age, and it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore.

So let me tell you about my bowel movement. Just kidding. ;-)

(my plate-and-screws repaired arm, 2011)

We’re fortunate to live in a time when creaky knees can be replaced along with crotchety hips. We’ve figured out how to repair and replace so many other parts to keep us alive and working. We know so much more about how the body works and what it needs to remain healthy…or to get it back on the path to health.

Pain relief comes in pill and pot form, and shots (not those “shots.” Ok, those shots too.) Fitness, nutrition, and health regimes have evolved from the one-type-fits-all presumptions to programs that can adapt to the individual’s needs.

Here’s the trick. We have to do the maintenance work ourselves to avoid living another joke.

So my question is: Why didn’t someone tell me when I was young to take care of this body? If they had, I wouldn’t be living these jokes today.

…Oh, that’s right, they did. I must have forgotten.

Actually, the jokes are pretty funny these days only because I know I'm not the only one f-a...passing wind. blush.

Come on, share 'em if you've got 'em. (Jokes that is.)