RED FLAG IN MORNING, BOOMER TAKE WARNING

Ordinarily a red flag is a warning, a fire warning, a dire warning.

See one of those on the news and get your boogie bag packed.

That’s a big red flag, not the one for this post.

Let’s look at the small ones just for baby boomers who have it all.

And, based on current data, we do have it all. Don’t we?

A while back a Facebook friend said something to effect that I’ve been through ‘things’ more than some, not as much as others.

You have weathered much Dave-more than some, less than others and keep a wry sense of humor and perspective-good read-thanks There you go!

He posted on Facebook and I said it would be a good blog comment on boomerpdx.

So there you go.

Not everyone gets my funny bone.

Sometimes life feels like a romantic comedy that is neither romantic, or funny. What is it then?

Drama. It’s a drama.

2

I’d been whining about my bad luck on the medical front, weathering a trying bout of cancer, a heart episode more common to postmenopausal women than would-be-he-men.

Both were a red flag, but my writer-self saw them as an opportunity to explore and share.

Hopefully, and I think I got it, the sharing wasn’t done from self-pity. I’m not a self-pity fan, or a fan of being pitied in general.

Don’t feel sorry for me, I’ll just fade quietly away like the old soldier, which was my goal if it came down to that.

But it didn’t.

The cancer had a high percentage for survivability, so how much pity does that take?

I’ve been thinking about it since 2017, thinking about the folks who had it worse, way worse.

Those were the people I met in cancer waiting rooms, along with nurse and doctors.

It’s a grim bunch, that’s for sure.

I wrote a compilation post to include links to the whole affair, got a piece published in cancer magazines, and did an interview.

However, I didn’t cure cancer. What I tried doing was lifting up some beat down people. With varying results.

My wife waved a red flag more than once when I explained the mystery of HPV16 neck cancer, which was a mouthful.

A Bigger Red Flag

The red flag that waved in my face came from this comment:

Probably the most painful transition ever. 

Day 1: You’re on top of the world–peak of your career, influential in your field, family adores you.

Day 2: You peak. You will never recognize this day when it happens. 

Day 3: Your career is history, nobody is interested in what you have to say anymore, and your family is living a life that doesn’t necessarily include you. 

You try to compensate, do some sort of reset, initiate a third childhood, whatever–but eventually, after a lot of pain and frustration, you realize that you’ll never get back (or even be welcome) where you once were.

It’s hard to say–this is a chicken-and-egg situation–whether or not the decline is caused by having peaked or if it’s caused by everyone telling you that you’re past your peak. 

If enough people tell you that you’re no longer relevant, then what choice is there other than to start believing them? Painful.

I’m no counselor, but this blog sounds like one sometimes.

Like now.

Baby boomers have more choices than any aging generation in history. More money, better connected, AND, more yearning for it all to make sense.

Instead of working in hazardous jobs that ruin our health, getting a gold watch after twenty years, and a flag draped coffin on a local hero’s hill for the veterans among us at forty-five, we keep on keeping on.

The problem is longevity.

The Biggest Flag

When you feel you’re heading for a crash and can’t finds the brakes to slow that shit down, you need self-awareness more than ever.

Take a quick review of just who the hell you are.

If you’re a quitter, be a good quitter. Start something just for the sake of quitting.

Do it often enough to have a collection of quits, then pick one to follow through on.

Sounds a lot like writing and editing and re-writing to me, because it is.

Instead of wallowing in self-doubt and insecurities, amp it up.

After you go through a few things that scare you half to death, you show cracks.

Hemingway said we’re all broken, and that’s how the light gets in.

As much as I like Papa, he checked out six years earlier than I am now, coming up on seven.

I find it hard to take advice today from such a young man.

Not so with George Bernard Shaw, 1856-1950:

Old men are dangerous: it doesn’t matter to them what is going to happen to the world.

Stay in this world and seek to make it better, but just a little better. Be the kind of better that flies under the radar.

And keep score. Life kicks your ass no matter what you do, but why not kick back.

Make a useful routine and stick to it.

Be a better cook and combine ingredients instead of ready-made in a box, though I don’t know a better stuffing than stove top stuffing.

Why not start right there since we’re in the season.

Do something meaningful better than the ordinary meaningful. Make better stuffing, show your sweet smile, give someone a compliment.

That will make you a winner, and everybody loves a winner.

I love people who leave comments I can reference, so you know what to do.

From my experience, a little love goes a long way and leaves a happy history.

Let’s go.