As you know, I’m a Boomer-aged chicka. Don’t even ask me my age. I’m living free and easy, retired from a fabulous career and feeling great.

Most days.

But more and more, I’m plagued by age-related issues. There is an aphorism I used to think was silly: “Old age isn’t for sissies.… ...

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“I wasn’t there. I didn’t know her. I left nothing behind.

I gots to be careful because I’m swinging my leg out with each step, to avoid stepping on the raggedy hems of these dang bell bottom pants. They’re jeans I got at a second hand store, and I’ve already had two ancient hippies, recognizable because they still let their freak flags fly, offer me a small fortune for them.… ...

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“Cleveland Rocks”. “Magic Carpet Ride”. “American Girl”. “Ride My SeeSaw”.

What do these rock anthems have in common?

Many things, Constant Reader, many things. And, all of them memorable validations to me… Our Father wanted us to be there, despite a ticket snafu 😉 (but that’s another block post, a miracle to be believed)

  1. “Cleveland Rocks” was the tune on the airport shuttle’s radio, starting up when the vehicle entered the terminal’s looping drive and ending as the driver dropped us off at SouthWest Airlines’ gates.
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