I am visiting my hometown Portland (the real one!), Maine. In the coffee shop this morning I overheard, “A deeah run into muthah’s cah dowah when she was leavin the pahkin lot.” A perfectly clear report of a common occurrence. Had this been heard in San Diego, various “wits” would claim to need a translation.
I am enjoying myself, but some sights horrify me; beautiful Victorian homes cobbled into apartments or replaced by modern buildings of questionable merit, one-way streets getting me lost and housing developments instead of picturesque farms and fields. Luckily, my old neighborhood is mostly unchanged and brought back many memories; most happy; the others I didn’t dwell on.
I decided not to look up any classmates fearing age had rendered us unrecognizable to each other. Some mental images are best left untouched; my high school heart-throb will remain his handsome self and still fighting his attraction to me by ignoring me (I understand. I forgive you).
Much to my delight, I have found several gay– and lesbian-owned shops, bars, restaurants, B&Bs and even a gay weekly. All unimaginable not so long ago, when I and many of my generation left our homophobic hometowns to find sanctuary in large cities. Painful memories are hard to erase, but times have changed and many places are now, if not gay friendly, at least gay tolerant.
Give your old hometown a chance and take a trip down memory lane, especially if you haven’t been there for a long time; better yet, visit with your partner. You’ll amuse and astound him/her with a constant barrage of suddenly remembered stories at every turn you take.
Cooking for one. You can do it
Many seniors live by microwave. Shopping carts contain stacks of TV dinners with the rest of the space filled with unhealthy snacks, sweets and drinks. Refrigerators are filled with half-eaten meals and doggie bag left-overs which never got to Fido.
Many of us are constantly told we are overweight by our doctors (who seem to avoid looking in their own mirror). They also harp on about our unhealthy food choices. Of course they are right, and we mean to pay attention to our diet, but, but … well, you know.
I tried to improve by getting a cookbook full of mouth-watering photos of healthy meals and step by step instructions for those with third grade reading ability. How could I fail? Easy. I was defeated by the inevitable little note “serves 6” or some such number. My math skills are adequate, but I defy you to tell me how to get 1/6 of 2 tablespoons, 3/4 cup or 1 2/3 pints and what about “a dash of nutmeg.”
Recently, I found a new book titled Cooking for One and it helped a lot. I first needed to stock up on about 20 basic ingredients and $380 worth of pots, pans and a “Kiss the cook” apron, but then I had a great time and thoroughly enjoyed trying out the recipes and cooking hints.
Think about your health, get away from the TV and give it a try. It’s fun. After a few misses and several hits, you’ll want to show off your skill and do as I did; invite five friends over, do everything 6 times and whip up something fantastic. They’ll call you Julia.
