There are lots of irritants about our life in 21st century

Spectrum
Friday, October 8, 2004
Maturity
Terri Andersen
Senior Moments
There are lots of little irritants about our life in 21st century
The other day I got a letter in the mail, a personal letter from a friend who moved from New Milford to Montana, and I was absolutely delighted. What's the big deal about receiving a letter in the mail? Well, writing personal letters seems to be becoming a lost art, and that letter made me realize how rare it is to receive mail that's actually enjoyable. (E-mail is nice, too, but there's something special about a handwritten letter.) While we all await with anticipation a visit from the mailman, glad to receive greeting cards, a magazine we subscribe to, or an occasional check in the mail (we wish), our mailboxes are more apt to be filled with bills, advertisements, requests for contributions and all kinds of junk mail that lands in the garbage and we have to pay to dispose of it. Bills are a necessary evil that can't be avoided, but when unwanted catalogs fill up our mailbox I get irritated. One company sends me a thick school supply catalog every few months because I once bought an item from them when my granddaughter's class was involved in a school fund-raiser. I have no intention of buying anything else from that company, but they seem to have me on their list as a teacher, which I'm not. So to set them straight and save a few trees I wrote to them, asking them not to send me any more mail, but the catalogs keep coming. Another maddening item that comes in the mail almost every other day is the supposedly great news that I'm eligible for some bank's credit card. All I'd have to do is fill in the attached form and they'll reward me with access to their credit. But what if those letters fall into the wrong hands and someone signs up as me? Mail sometimes does go to a wrong address, so who knows if the recipient is honest or not and puts it back in the mailbox for the mailman to redeliver (and for me to shred). One bright spot is that we're warned so much about identity theft these days that we tend to be more cautious than we used to be. Even more maddening is when a credit card company sends blank checks in the mail, to grant us the privilege of using them for whatever we want. Of course, they would love to see us buy anything our little hearts desire so they can finance charge us to death, but what would happen if those checks got into the wrong hands? Luckily, when I called one company and told them to stop sending the checks, they seem to have listened, but why should it be necessary to have to contact all the people who send us unwanted mail? How about the nation's charities? Give to a worthy cause and your name is on every other charity's list with requests for contributions to them. One of the things that bothers me most among the many little irritants of life in the 21st century is how many glossy calendars I get every year, in addition to books, greeting cards, little junk gifts, and address labels by the hundreds, many from charities I never even heard of. The ones I believe in I'll contribute to, but those that waste money on “gifts” will never hear from me. - Is anyone wondering by now what side of the bed I woke up on this morning? Believe it or not, I’m trying to accommodate readers of this column who often suggest topics they think I ought to write about. One lady told me she wished I'd write about the frustration of trying to get through to a live person in a company that uses only recorded messages. You know, the ones that tell you to press 1 for this, 2 for that, 3 for something else, sometimes going to 6 or 7 presses without listing the information you really want. And then you get put on hold after practically any number you press. I can definitely relate to that. Sometimes a half-hour can go by without any satisfaction and the only alternative for me is to hang up before my nerves are completely shattered, (Who are they kidding when a recorded voice comes on every few minutes to tell you how important your call is to them?) Another common complaint is about television. We can have 100 channels to choose from and not find anything we care to watch. Then there are the annoying commercials. It seems for every five or 10 minutes of program there are three to five commercials to interrupt what we're watching. We were told years ago that if we paid to watch TV we wouldn't have to be bothered by commercials, yet with all we pay today we still have to put up with advertisements on almost all of the channels. Oh well, I guess we should all try to enjoy all the things that don't annoy us. Hopefully there are more of them than the irritants.
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford.

Mom's little article in a small town paper gets Washington DC's attention

August 27, 2004
Nutritive sweetener facts To the Editor: The commentary by Terri Andersen in the Aug. 6 edition of The Spectrum unfortunately misinforms consumers about the nutritive sweetener High Fructose Corn Syrup (HFCS). This is an issue that concerns good public health, and it is important consumers have all the facts about HFCS. Just last month, the Center for Food and Nutrition Policy at Virginia Tech issued a report compiled by scientists who reviewed a number of critical commentaries about HFCS. Their analysis found HFCS is not a unique contributor to obesity, and the Associated Press reported their findings in a July 17 story. According to the American Dietetic Association (ADA): “Consumers can safely enjoy a range of nutritive and non-nutritive sweeteners when consumed in a diet that is guided by current federal nutrition recommendations as well as individual health goals.” In 1983, the Food and Drug Administration listed HFCS as “Generally Recognized as Safe” (known as GRAS status) for use in food, and the FDA reaffirmed that ruling in 1988 and 1996. In its 1996 GRAS finding, the FDA noted “the saccharide composition (glucose to fructose ratio) of HFCS is approximately he same as that of honey, invert presented by association sugar and the disaccharide sucrose” (or table sugar). Many parts of the world, including Mexico, Europe and Russia, have rising rates of obesity despite having little or no HFCS in their foods and beverages due to tariffs and trade policies. In fact, the New York Times recently reported on Mexico's anti-HFCS trade policies (to protect its sugar industry) over the past several years, and a House of Commons report in Britain noted the obesity epidemic in that country. Both Mexico and Great Britain have virtually no HFCS in their foods and beverage. It is also important to note that HFCS is prevalent in a number of products for people who are trying to control their weight. Three examples include many Lean Cuisine dinners, Weight Watchers muffins and Healthy Choice ice cream—just three products made and marketed by companies whose customers are attempting to control or reduce their weight. HFCS is contained in many food and beverage formulations that provide recognized benefits to consumers. For more information about HFCS, please visit www.HFCSfacts.com.
Audrae Erickson
President Corn Refiners Association
Washington, D.C.

September 10, 2004
writer takes issue with DC firm over corn syrup
To the Editor: - * friend called me on Aug. 27 (before my mail came that day) to tell me there was a letter to the editor of The Greater New Milford Spectrum. regarding something I had written in my column for the Aug. 4. Spectrum Maturity section of the paper. The letter was from the Audrae Erikson President of The Corn Refiners Association in Washington, D.C., an I was both flabbergasted and flattered.  Flabbergasted because I couldn't imagine that my chatty little column in Our local paper would reach anyone in Washington, D.C., and flattered that it did, even though they found with what I wrote. I want to make it clear that I stand firm on what I wrote about high fructose corn syrup mainly because I got my information from an AARP article entitled “What's Worse Than Sugar?" followed by loads of Internet information on the subject. An L.A. Times website went so far as abstinence, not moderation. Recently I saw a TV commercial making it a point to say their product contained. NO high fructose corn syrup. One label I read stressed that its product had "only 2 percent HFCS. Why would all these people single out HFCS as something to
avoid for no reason at all?
Terri Andersen
New Milford

Will what's acceptable to eat today still be acceptable to eat tomorrow?

Friday, August 6, 2004
Spectrum Maturity
Terri Andersen
Senior Moments
Will what's acceptable to eat today still be acceptable to eat tomorrow?
How is a person supposed to know what's good to eat or what's not, when someone in the food police business changes the rules from one week to the next? I remember back in the 1960s when just before Thanksgiving the consumer was told to stay away from cranberries. Most of us couldn't imagine a turkey dinner without cranberry sauce, but I didn't want to take any chances on poisoning anybody, so I was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice and forego cranberry sauce that year when the relatives were all coming to my house for dinner. My father, however, had a different idea. He figured the cranberry warning referred only to the canned variety, and he showed up on Thanksgiving Day with a bag of fresh cranberries to be cooked. Since I had always used canned cranberries, I had no idea how to cook fresh ones, so my father decided to take over. As the cranberries on the stove popped away during cooking, my kitchen walls, floor and ceiling were suddenly embellished with red dots. Did that bother my father? Not at all. So what if the kitchen didn't look spotless? He figured everyone would just be grateful to have cranberry sauce with their turkey. A few weeks later, as I was still finding a few red spots here and there, the food industry decided there was no reason to avoid cranberries after all. It seems that scenario of “good for you... bad for you... good for you” has been repeated a lot over the years. I remember my mother telling us that in her youth tomatoes were considered poisonous, then in later years the tomato was proclaimed perfectly safe and even good for you. Another food that got a bad rap recently was eggs. Stay away from them, we were told, since they're bad for your cholesterol levels. But in a fairly short time eggs were back in favor, as long as we didn't eat too many. Even the diet experts can't agree on which foods are best for us. - One says eat lots of protein and avoid carbohydrates; another says you need carbohydrates but don't eat too much protein. One says stay away from all fats; another says your body needs some fat to function properly. Who's right and who's wrong? Another problem today seems to be all the extra ingredients put into the foods we eat. They say it's to preserve the shelf life and won't do any harm, but how is the average consumer supposed to know if a particular ingredient will adversely affect him or not? Just recently, I read an article warning people about high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS), and as my husband and I started reading more ingredients labels, we were amazed to see how many products contain it. It's the second listed ingredient in most sodas, juices and iced tea, and it appears in cookies, pies, jellies, ketchup, soups, baked beans, and who knows what else. We even found it in one brand of ice cream, which we wouldn't have bought if we suspected HFCS would be an ingredient. According to the article I read in an AARP Bulletin and the further research we did on the Internet, high fructose corn syrup is not metabolized well by the body and can contribute to obesity and other health problems. Of course, the producers of HFCS will deny those claims, because it costs them less than sugar and has a longer shelf life, but I hope more research is done to protect the eating public before it's too late, if the harm hasn't been done already. (Incidentally, regular corn syrup doesn't seem to be causing any problems, just the high fructose type.) Which brings up another question in my mind. How come the problems are always discovered after a product is on the market instead of before? Granted, it's noble of the food industry to list all ingredients in a product, but some have so many added chemicals the average consumer gets bleary-eyed trying to read them. Besides, the print is often so small one needs a magnifying glass to see it. What happened to ordinary flour, sugar, milk and eggs as ingredients for waffles or other baked goods? Supposedly we need at least 50 other ingredients to make today's food palatable. I find that kind of scary. - Just for the fun of it (or to prove a point?) I counted 75 ingredients on a well-known brand of soup, 57 on a can of “homestyle” soup, and 19 on a small can of chicken gravy. Where do they find all these chemicals for us to ingest? Does the average consumer have any idea what sodium erythorbate, inosinate, guanylate, pyridoxine, hydrochloride, niacinamide, and all those other unpronounceable ingredients do to us or why we need them? I suppose as long as we remember the motto “everything in moderation,” we'll survive. Then again, there's always some old geezer who brags how he ate all the wrong foods, drank booze whenever he felt like, smoked cigars all his life, and manages to live to be 100.  Maybe he lived so long because he never worried about what he ate or drank. We all know worry is not good for us.
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford.

She finds that "new and improved" products are not necessarily better

Spectrum
Maturity
Friday, May 28, 2004
Terri Andersen  Senior Moments
She finds that ‘new and improved' products are not necessarily better
It seems every time I get used to a product and really like it, some efficiency experts in manufacturing land decide to make changes which make it worse, in my opinion, or they just discontinue the product, period. I realize the “new and improved” version is supposed to raise sales for the company, but all it does for me is raise my blood pressure. “Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone?" I mutter to myself (and anyone else who happens to be within hearing distance). If they have to make changes, why not just put out a new variety and leave the old one as is? Frozen waffles are one example of a change that didn't sit too well with my family. The waffles used to come eight to a package and were tasty and satisfying. One day somebody got the bright idea of adding a “bonus of two free waffles” to the package. Was it really a bonus for the consumer? The way I see it, what they're really giving us is just thinner, less satisfying waffles. Another example is chicken Soup. The original was simple and tasted delicious. Then someone decided to provide us with a “grownup" version, which includes tasteless pieces of chicken smothered with a bunch of lame vegetables, and it no longer even tastes like chicken soup. A lot of the new and improved cleaning products seem to fall short of satisfaction, too, and it's frustrating when a wonderful product used for years is suddenly unavailable. Then there are cosmetics. A friend of mine had a foundation makeup that was just the right color and texture for her skin, and she depended on it for years. So what did the cosmetic firm do? They discontinued that product. She had the same experience with a hair color she loved. I can relate to her experiences because that happened to me with a face cream I used. About 10 years ago I had a wonderful moisturizing cream that kept my face smooth and wrinkle-free. Someplace along the way someone decided to “improve” that cream, and it just doesn't do what it used to for me. [OK, maybe the years are at fault on that one, but I sure wish someone would come up with a “new and improved” product that really decreases wrinkles instead of just claiming to. While they're at it, something that grows thick, lustrous hair, whitens dentures and takes away tummy flab without disgusting liposuction would be nice. Are you listening, scientists out there?] It would also be nice to find a band aid that takes care of cracked finger tips. Every winter my thumbs and the thumbs of other seniors I know seem to split, no matter how much lotion is used, especially since our hands are drier with age and are in water so many times a day, preparing food and doing dishes. There must be a hundred different kinds of band aids on the market, but none that satisfactorily cover the fingertip and stay on when wet. Even the ones that claim to be waterproof and specially made for fingertips don't do the job right. I must have gone through 10 different boxes this winter, without success. And if that's not bad enough, the “new and improved” version of Band aid is so hard to remove from its wrapper, one could be covered with blood before getting it open. What happened to that little red piece of string that used to open the wrapper with one stroke? And how about today's clothing lines? Is anyone thinking about senior citizens when they stock their stores mainly with low cut, tight tops, sleeves that reach below the fingertips, and pants that defy gravity and cling (hopefully) to the lowest part of the hip? - Without realizing it, I bought a pair of pants like that not too long ago. They were the kind of material I was looking for and they were on sale, but because I was in a hurry that day I didn't bother to try them on. Needless to say (but I'm saying it anyway) I returned the pants as soon as possible. I doubt that anyone wants to see senior navels exposed. The same youth theme seems to prevail in the boots department, I was trying to find a new pair of boots for myself this winter, since my old ones were getting pretty shabby. Do you think I could find a pair that wouldn't have me falling in the snow or sliding on ice? [Don't the efficiency experts realize that most senior citizens have some degree of osteoporosis and are afraid of falling? I went to all the department stores in New Milford and a few in Danbury, with no luck. All I wanted was a pair of boots with a flat heel and a zipper to let me get my legs into them. The boots I found had either thin high heels or big chunky heels, plus they were hard to get into without a long shoehorn and thin calves. Luckily, I finally found one store that specialized in shoes, and even that shop had only one pair that fit my specifications. [They weren't even the size I was looking for, but I figured an insole or two would take care of that. That's how desperate I was.) Don't the manufacturers pay attention to today's senior citizen demographics, or do we not spend enough money for it to matter to them?
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford.

Celebrating the Easter Holiday: several decades ago and today

Spectrum
Maturity
Terri Andersen
Senior Moments
Friday, April 2, 2004
Easter in the 1950s and 1960s was probably a department store owner's delight (second only to the boom in business at Christmas time). The big question women asked each other at that time was: “What are you wearing for Easter?” There was even an Easter Parade on Fifth Avenue in New York City in which people could strut their Easter finery. - (Strange, isn't it, that the two most religious holidays of the year became diverted to something other than pure worship?) While people were aware of the 40 days of Lent and Easter services at church, it seems their biggest concern for Easter Sunday was what they would wear. In those days, hats were big (the bigger, the better, and there were actually numerous stores that sold only hats). Finding the perfect hat took much of a woman's shopping time, in addition to shoes and purse that had to match, plus the right outfit (usually a dress or suit with a skirt) and a pair of gloves. I remember searching for just the right shade of gloves to match the blouse I was going to wear. My friends all spent much of their time searching for Easter finery, too. My husband took a home-movie of me and our 2-year old son in the late 1950s, strolling in the park after church.  There I am in red high heels, holding on to my big red straw picture hat so the wind wouldn't blow it off, trying to keep the stroller from rolling away and our 2-year old son from chasing after two cute little dogs who were out for a romp in the park. It didn't help that the straight skirt of my pretty gray suit wasn't exactly made for chasing children or dogs. The skirt had an inset of little pleats at the bottom of the back, supposedly to make leg movement unrestricted, but big strides were definitely out. Today those pleats would be replaced with a slit halfway up the skirt for that purpose — not quite as discreet, I must say. I might mention that our 2-year old son was dressed in a light blue long pants suit, a little white dress shirt and a light blue bow tie. On his feet were white dress shoes. (Sneakers would have been scandalous on Easter Sunday.) As for my husband, he wore what all men wore on Sundays—a standard suit, white shirt and tie. (Men have it so easy.) Today, a few people still "dress up” for Easter. There always seem to be little girls in adorable Easter dresses and Mary Jane shoes, and little boys with their hair combed neatly. But on the whole, its more a"business as usual” 21st century day. While it was nice to see people all dressed up for Easter in the old days, it was a shame to see the hustle and bustle of what to wear take precedence over what the season was all about — namely, to give some thought to the condition of our souls and celebrate the glory of the resurrection.
This year, Mel Gibson's "Passion of the Christ" movie motivated a lot of people to give some thought to what Easter is all about, and I think that's a step in the right direction.
Terri Andersen is a New Milford resident.

Who said retirement means taking it easy?

It's amazing how busy retirement can be. -
Almost every retiree I know is busier now than ever and has to carry a pocket calendar to check if a date is free before making two commitments for the same day. Not too long ago I was with four other “retired” women, trying to agree on a date we could all get together on a regular basis. “How about the first Monday of the month?” someone asked. Immediately out came the little calendars with room for writing in appointments. Retiree 1: “Mondays are not good for me. I work at the Thrift Mart on Mondays. How about a Tuesday?" Retirees 2 and 4 take exercise classes on Tuesdays: “How about a Wednesday then?” Retirees 1 and 3 have singing rehearsals on the first and third Wednesdays and AARP meetings on the second. - “Anyone have Thursdays free?” Exercise classes again were on a few calendars. “How about a Friday?" Retirees 2 and 5 take yoga in the morning and attend "Going Solo” in the afternoons. It then came down to seeing if any mornings as opposed to afternoons were available, and lo and behold a Tuesday afternoon was agreed upon. When I first left the workforce, I had no idea I'd be doing what I am now. My goal at the time was just to be able to get to projects I'd been putting off at home because there didn't seem to be enough time to do them while working all day at an outside job. My first objective was going to be getting all the drawers and closets in ship-shape order, then do a little oil or watercolor painting, write something every day, learn some new songs on the piano, do some gardening, and then just goof off whenever I felt like. Well, the drawers and closets are no more organized than they were Seven years ago, my garden this year consisted of a mail order carpet of seeds that was supposed to produce wonderful flowers without a lot of work (highly over-rated), and the only writing I've done is what goes into these columns and a little publicity or a newsletter. I guess the culprit in getting me off track was wanting to see what was out there for senior citizens these days. I found the New Milford Senior Center had (and still has) so many tempting activities to look into; then a friend wanted to see what the local AARP was all about and asked me to go with her; and another friend suggested volunteering at the Thrift Mart as a worthwhile thing to do. Soon I discovered that joining an organization, doing some volunteer work, and wanting to take advantage of what's going on at the Senior Center can take up a lot of retirement time. In an organization, you volunteer to help out with one thing or another, and the next thing you know they're asking you to run for president or some other important position. (It sounds flattering, but all it means is they're having a hard time getting anyone to do the job.) Let it be known that you like to write, and the next thing you know you're in charge of publicity and anything else that requires “putting a few sentences together.” (I can't say that bothers me, but it does sometimes interfere with goofing off in retirement.) Then there are the lunches or dinners to keep in touch and celebrate birthdays with people one worked with over the years, which also fill up a lot of spaces on the calendar. I have to admit I love what I do (and the bargains I find) at the Thrift Mart and am truly impressed with the mostly senior women who take on so much hard work to keep it in operation. Not only are there loads of bags and boxes to sort through, price and display, but there's the huge responsibility of running a successful business and allocating the monies to the most worthwhile causes. (The many thank you letters they get show all the different ways they've helped the community.) A few years back, everyone was impressed with the Beardstown Ladies (a group who learned how to invest wisely and wrote a book about it), but I'd say the Thrift Mart ladies deserve just as much admiration for being such good businesswomen and such hard workers even without getting a penny for what they do. Every now and then, my husband tells me I’m overextending myself (like when I'm not catering to his every whim), but I figure as long as I leave him a sandwich if I’ll be gone at lunch time, or a microwavable dinner if I'll be gone at supper time, he can't say he's being neglected. (Am I giving away my era? I understand modern wives don't think that way anymore.) At least we're not one of those couples who complain about spending too much time together in retirement. But all he has to do is ask if I’d like to go on a cruise with him, and I’ll definitely find time on my calendar.
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford.

Offbeat things I'm thankful for

November 7, 2003
Spectrum
Offbeat things I'm thankful for
Terri Andersen
Senior Moments
Most people are thankful for their health, their homes, their jobs (if they're lucky enough to have one these days), and especially their families. I'm thankful for all of those things, too (with the substitution of Social Security/retirement in place of a job), but I find myself being thankful for a few things that I imagine most people would consider a little odd. For instance, taking a shower in a nice heated bathroom, with privacy and plumbing that brings hot water right into the tub. When I was growing up, we didn't have a heated bathroom, and we didn't have hot water. We lived in a cold water flat with a tub in the kitchen (covered with a hinged board to make it look like something to sit on when no one was in the tub). In order to get hot water in the tub, one had to heat enough pots of cold water on the stove to have some to sit in while taking a quick bath before the water got cold again. Showers weren't even thought about. As for that other necessary bathroom facility that we sit on rather than in, that, too, is something I'm thankful for today, 'specially the flushing system. When we were with my parents “in the country,” we used either an outhouse (very cold in winter) or a chamber pot that was kept in the bedroom so one wouldn't have to go outside on cold winter nights. The outhouse was hard to keep from smelling terrible, and the pot was embarrassingly noisy, plus first thing in the morning it had to be emptied by whoever used it. Not very pleasant, so you see why today's flushing seems so wonderful to me. ~ Then there's the refrigerator instead of an icebox that produced a lot of water to mop up when the ice melted, and there's today's freezer to store food so you don't have to go grocery shopping every day. Frozen dinners to tide you over when you don't have time to cook or just don't feel like it are another wonderful thing to be thankful for. I'm trying to think what we did about ice cream in those days, but all I remember is going to the ice cream parlor for it. I don't think we ever kept any on hand in the house, like we do today. (It's so nice to have ice cream in the freezer anytime you want it!) How about computers as something to be thankful for? For those who remember how tedious it was to retype everything if a mistake was made on a typewriter, the computer with its ease in making corrections is a godsend, Also, if one needed copies of what was being typewritten, carbon paper had to be inserted between the pages, which made making corrections even more troublesome. When I got my first word processor, I thought I had died and went to heaven. But the computer even surpassed the word processor, in that one could change the fonts typeface. Computer users today probably have no idea how font changes were done on the 1970s typesetting machines, so allow me to let them know how lucky they are today. The typesetting equipment consisted of a keyboard and a big metal enclosure on the side which contained a large drum that accommodated two or three-foot filmstrips of a certain letter typeface. Every time one wanted to change a typeface the machine had to be shut off so the drum could come to a standstill and a new font film strip could be attached to it. If corrections had to be made after a piece was proofread, the process had to be repeated for every kind of different typeface that needed correction — very time-consuming and nerve wracking, especially on deadline day. Also, if one wanted to change the size of the lettering, it was necessary to make sure enough leading space was accounted for before the line was typed, otherwise the larger size letters would come out on top of the smaller ones. Each time a change was made, different instructions had to be given to the machine. Today, all one has to do is hit a few keys or mouse up and down and –voila! Even today's automobiles make me feel grateful that they're different from the earlier models, which didn't have heat or air conditioning. To keep warm in winter, one had to make sure there were some blankets in the car, and to cool off in summer one depended on a breeze from the open windows (as long as it wasn't raining). I remember the first time I dated a guy with a car that had heat in it. I couldn't get over not having to bundle up to keep warm. We even took off our coats, which was such a new sensation to me, I can still feel the thrill of not being cold in the car. (I almost got carried away enough to marry the guy, but I did come to my senses before doing anything so rash.) OK, so maybe I'm a little crazy, but for each memory I have of how things once were and how they are today, I can't help feeling thankful that I lived long enough to experience the differences.
 Terri Andersen is a New Milford resident.

Keep in mind the senior theory of relativity

Spectrum
Maturity
Friday, August 8, 2003
Keep in mind the senior theory of relativity: Age is only a number
Terri Andersen Senior Moments
Recently someone wanted to know how come the sun darkens the skin but lightens the hair. [I'm sure there's some logical scientific explanation.] What I'd like to know is how come, as we get older, our waist gets thicker and our hair gets thinner. Why can't it be the other way around — thinner waist and thicker hair? I mentioned to one of my peers that my hair is getting patchy lately, and she knew exactly what I was talking about. She said she had the same problem. The first time I noticed a little bare spot on the crown of my head was when I was caught on video by someone shooting from behind where I was sitting. [Now I have to check the back of my hair in a mirror in addition to having to check to see if all my teeth are in my mouth and my eyeglasses are on my face before I leave the house.] I guess no matter how old we get we're still somewhat of a slave to vanity. - A woman who said she could relate to the thinning hair problem told me how she handles it. She said she back-combs the top section of her hair (what they called “teasing” in the old days?) and then sprays it in place. That way the hair doesn't lie flat on the head so it de-stresses the thinness of the tresses. I find that works, as long as a strong wind doesn't come along or I don't get caught in the rain. Another discomfort in aging is when the memory goes into temporary arrest and the person whose name you're trying to remember teases you with, "Having a senior moment?” Actually, anyone of any age can be caught off guard and be unable to immediately come up with the name of someone he or she hasn't seen in a while. I find the solution to that problem is to give myself a moment or two, and the information will usually surface. If it doesn't, I go through the A-Z file in my head and it always amazes me that my brain stops at the right letter and the name I want pops up. A friend of mine, who after a few “senior moments” convinced herself that her memory was terrible, automatically says, “You'll have to excuse me, but my memory is awful these days.” Yet, when we get into a conversation and she doesn't dwell on that fact, she does just fine in the memory department. I hate to see anyone give in to the notion that age automatically messes up the memory (especially if they're younger than I am). Regarding age in general, it's surprising how someone can be considered young and old at the same chronological stage of life. I remember when I first retired and decided to see what the Senior Center had to offer. People there ranged from the 60s to the 90s in age, and it was nice to be considered one of the young ones again. At my last job, I was one of the oldest employees around because people were eligible for retirement at 55 and I started working there when I was 56. For my 60th birthday they had a big celebration (balloons, streamers, banners, big cake and even hired a minstrel to serenade me). They celebrated my 65th, too, but by then I was often asked how come I wasn't retiring like everybody else and I had to explain that even though I was old enough I didn't have enough years of service yet. I have to admit, even though my supervisors were always younger than I was (I went through two who retired and the last one was still in his 30s), they treated me like an equal and took me to lunch for all my birthdays. Another little perk I enjoyed was when the younger secretaries came to me for crossword puzzle answers I knew because of my age — like Dunne or Castle for an “Irene” clue, Ida for a “Lupino" clue, or Bela for a “Lugosi" clue. Those were movie stars in my time, and most younger people never heard of them. All of which brings me to the theory of relativity regarding aging. If at a certain age one can be considered old in one situation and young in another, it just goes to show that age is relative. It's only a number. How one thinks and what kind of attitude prevails is what really matters. I've met people in their 80s who had more vitality than people half their age, and young people who looked at everything as a bore and had no enthusiasm for anything. So what does all of this prove? Absolutely nothing! Have a great day no matter what your age. Terri Andersen is a New Milford resident.

No Resolutions, but I'm determined...

Spectrum
Friday, February 7, 2003
Maturity-Senior Moments
Terri Andersen
No resolutions, but I’m determined to put the kitchen cabinets in order
I was not going to make any New Year's resolutions because I know from past experience that I'm not very good at keeping them. I didn't lose 10 pounds last year (or any other year since reaching adulthood), I didn't get all the photographs from the past 10 years put into albums, and I didn't organize all my closets. This year, however, I am determined to put at least the kitchen cabinets in order. The first priority would be to do something with the cabinets that hold my pots and pans, all stacked in sixes or sevens. In order to reach whatever pot I need, the noise level has gotten completely out of hand. Ditto for trying to put a pot back where it belongs. It doesn't help that kitchen corner cabinets are constructed in such a way that there's a large area extended to the right or left of the door that can't be reached without removing everything that's in front of the door. “Why don't you just throw out some of the older pots?” my husband asks, feeling that's the logical solution. Actually, he's the reason we have so many pots in the first place. A little scratch here or there and he buys a set of new ones, while the old pots are just fine as far as I'm concerned. In fact, very often a new pot doesn't make the food taste the same as my old pot does. That big old red pot with one handle missing is the only one that makes my pot roast taste right. And the pan with a few scratches on it is just fine for cooking bacon or other things that I don't want to ruin the new pots with. I do like the new teflon pan for cooking eggs, but I didn't need a new set with three different sizes (for when we have company for breakfast, maybe, but how often does that happen?). Then there are the “once in a great while needed” pots, like the one with three little tin cups for cooking poached eggs, the pot with an insert full of holes for deep frying, the pizza pan, and the cookie tins. (I think I got those when we were newly married 48 years ago and I thought cooking was going to be such fun!) Those are in the part of the cabinet that can't be reached, so I haven't cooked any of those things in quite a while. There's also the big white enamel pot that I bought in some insane moment when I thought I'd be cooking soup or pasta for an army. It would also be good for cooking a dozen or more ears of fresh corn, but once I discovered little ears in the frozen section of the supermarket, I gave up all the mess of pulling threads off corn on the cob. All of the above is in the cabinet at a right angle to the left of the sink. I'm not sure what's in the back of the cabinet on the right side of the kitchen. I know there are some pots and tins and serving dishes, but all I see are the bags that I carefully fold and store in the front of that cabinet. Why I save all those bags, paper and plastic, I don't really know, but I have a few friends who said they do that, too (probably a trait of those born during the Depression, when everything was saved, “just in case" a need arose). Now and then I do get rid of some bags, but hardly ever the ones with handles — you never know when you'll need one of those. - Why, just last Christmas I used two big red Macy's shopping bags to cart all the presents to our daughter's house, where we were celebrating Christmas Eve. It so happens both bags ripped when the presents were being pulled out (the kids sure teased me about my 10-year-old matched luggage), so that's two less bags in my cabinet and a new resolve to go for it and get rid of the rest. I'll probably leave a few there though, because old habits die hard, and I'm sure the minute I throw one out, that will be just the kind of bag I'll need for something or other.
Terri Andersen is a New Milford resident.

How Old is Old?

By TERRI ANDERSEN Contributing Writer
is 50 old? (It's old enough to be enrolled in AARP.) Is 60 old? (It’s old enough to be able to take advantage  of the activities at the Senior Center. At 65 one is old enough to eligible for Social Security and - seems to represent a standard of measures when a person is too old to work and needs the government to step in and let the social security taxes do their job. (I'm not knocking Social Security, believe me  - I thank God for it every day and - so glad to be a senior citizen in this period of history. My parents and grandparents had to struggle on their own.) But what’s really old? 80? 90? I know people of that age - are more active and more fun than some 50 year olds.) So what I'm trying to figure out is what's the common denominator what’s the bottom line that qualifies someone to be considered “old” Obviously we start to age the minute we’re born. Even a new baby becomes two days old, then two weeks old and two years old. Notice the word “old” is used in all those instances, yet is a two-year-old toddler really "old"? Of course not. So I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s all relative. To a three year-old child, anyone over 15 year or as tall as daddy might seem old; to a 16-year-old, anyone over 40 could be considered a senior citizen (ever been asked if you want the senior discount by a young checkout person before you even reached 50?); to a 40-year old, anyone over 65 might fit the category and to a 65year-old, it’s usually someplace in the 80-plus range. Then there’s the other side of the coin. When I see 29-year-olds dreading their 30th birthday or 40year-olds being given black balloons marked “over the hill,” I want to shake them and convince them that they’re still so very young and tell them to enjoy those birthdays, not dread them. Even 50-year-olds these days are younger looking and more glamorous than in years past. -Whatever age my father was, “old” was always at least ten years older than he was. Even when he turned 85 he still didn’t feel he fit into the category. He used to ride his bicycle and then roll himself down a little hill on his property just to show us how young he still felt. And that was probably his secret of youth. He was always physically active, so his body did what he wanted it to. Also he read a lot and kept an active mind. Usually when you start getting “up there” in age, sooner or later you're bound to run into someone who'll tell you “you’re only as old as you feel.” So every now and then I ask myself, “How old do you feel today?” There are days I can honestly say I feel like 30 (like at the dance class I’m taking with my husband) and then there are days when I feel like 90. Since I can’t be both, obviously age is relative. Unfortunately, there comes a time when the years take their toll on our youth and an 80-year-old can't look like a 30-year-old no matter how hard she tries, and would only look foolish in the attempt. So I guess the only thing to do is to accept whatever nature hands us and do the best we can with it. As they say, it beats the alternative (at least we’re still around). Not long ago I wrote an article about wrinkles and told about all the information I came across in different magazine articles on how to get rid of them. I just want to add that after all the reading and all the so called remedies, I want to go on record as saying, “the best advice is to ignore the wrinkles and just smile a lot.” (One of the tidbits I ran across in my “research” is that a smile is the best face lift.)

A New Wrinkle on Wrinkles

SENIOR FORUM
 A new wrinkle on wrinkles
BY TERRI ANDERSEN Contributing Writer
Nobody wants wrinkles, in their clothes or on their face. Unfortunately. however, wrinkles appear whether we like them or not. Until I was 50. I didn’t give a second thought to wrinkles on my face. When I was 55, all of a sudden there seemed to be more of them than I cared to have. By the time I was 60, they were all over my face. I didn’t feel old, but I sure looked old, so I decided to investigate and see if there was anything I could do about those creases in my face. For something so hard to do anything about, there sure are a lot of articles on the subject, and a slew of commercial products that promise to take care of the problem. Right now, as I write this, I have in my possession about 20 articles on ways to get rid of wrinkles, and in my medicine cabinet are about 10 products that promise to banish those caverns in a face. Which ones really work? You want the truth? OK, None! (At least not on my face.) One of the newest products on the market, that claims to reduce fine lines 80 or 90 percent and deep wrinkles by about 40 percent, beckoned to me from the skin care product shelf. My “fine lines” were already too far gone. so I didn’t pay much attention to their success rate, but the 40 percent for deep wrinkles made me feel that, hey, maybe this one is really the answer. (Usually the products only claim to “reduce the appearance of fine lines" and I’ve come to the conclusion that’s purely advertising talk and doesn’t mean a thing.) So okay, I buy and use this newest product for the time recommended to do its job, and what happens? (I bet you already guessed the answer.) Nothing! So I called the help-line number on the packaging and wanted to know “how come” I got no results. The sophisticated sounding lady who answered the phone insisted the product did keep its promises, as advertised, and she couldn’t understand why I saw no results. Then she asked me how old I was and I told her. Well! Right off the bat she knew what the problem was. The product was tested and marketed for 35–45 year olds, she informed me. H.E.L.L.O. “What do 35-45 year olds know about wrinkles?” I asked incredulously. She went on about how important it was to start taking care of one’s face while one was still young, but she really didn’t have an answer to my question. Then I saw an ad that sounded more like someone in my league. In the ad a girl vowed that her mother's face was covered with deep wrinkles, prune lips and crows feet until she used the product being advertised, and then the wrinkles and prune lips disappeared, the face muscles tightened, and the jowls didn't droop anymore. Even the age spots faded and the mother looked like a million dollars (for only $16.95!). Hey, that’s exactly what I'm looking for, I said to myself. And the advertiser was so convinced he had the best product on the market that a 100 percent money back guarantee came with the offer. Being a little skeptical, knowing what they say about anything that sounds too good to be true, usually is too good to be true, I got the bright idea of writing to the company and asking them to send me their product on a trial basis, and if it really did what they said it would, then I’d send them the money (and they wouldn’t have to bother sending me the money back if ... the product didn’t work). I mean, really, if I have to trust them with my money first, isn’t it only fair that they trust me to pay later? For some reason. I never got an answer to my letter. I decided to reread some of those articles I cut out of different magazines to see if maybe I missed something in the first reading. “To reveal fresher skin, exfoliation is the key,” one said. Another advised to “exercise your way to younger skin.” Use a steam facial; Saturate a cotton ball with witch hazel and swab over your face; moisturize, moisturize, moisturize (and be sure to use sunscreen); eat foods rich in vitamin A (like papaya), substitute chicken and fish for red meat, and drink at least eight glasses of water a day: revitalize your skin with a honey face mask (or a banana mask, an egg mask. or a brewer’s yeast mask); eat plenty of fruits and vegetables; exercise your face muscles; etc. etc. etc. So which piece of advice is the best? And when is it time to just give up and learn to accept those facial ruts? Guess what? I just ran across a remedy that sounds easy and hopefully promising: “wipe wrinkles away with a slice of apple.” Just rub a slice of apple over your skin and you can reduce wrinkles, it says. I can do that. If that doesn’t work, I'll give up, really I will.

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What will you be in your new year?

 January 8, 1999
The New Milford Times
H O M E & FAMILY
What will you be in your new year?
BY TERRI ANDERSEN Contributing Writer
There's something about a new year that makes us want to make a new beginning, improve on the old year and do better in whatever it was that we weren’t quite satisfied with in the past year. For many people it's their body size. (How many resolutions to lose weight are made at the beginning of a new year?) For others, it's a resolution to do better with the way they're handling their lifestyle, be it the way they handle money or the way they manage their relationships with their partners or their children. If they didn't get it right in the past, a new year seems a good time to resolve to do better. Whether we want to admit it or not. I think we all have some kind of standard of perfection built into us that begs to be considered. Take the issue of weight. Is there really a perfect size for humans to be? I watched a television show once where a 600 pound woman was pretty much confined to her bed. When she was asked what her weight loss goal would be, she answered, “If only I could weigh 300 pounds. I could live a normal life.” Ask a 300 pound woman that same question and she'd probably tell you she would be perfectly happy at 150 pounds. But how much do you want to bet that most 150 pound women wish they could be 130 or 120? Then there’s the issue of features that often lead to cosmetic surgery. Either the nose is too big or the breasts too small or the hips and stomach have too much fat; it goes on and on, that quest for perfection. Another subject that brings resolution into play is a person's financial situation. Don’t we all wish we had enough money to buy what we want but also have a nest egg for that proverbial rainy day? So we resolve that this year we'll save at least a few dollars every month or invest in something that will bring us financial rewards, but do we actually do it? We keep seeing things we just have to own and those credit card bills don’t let up on us. Yet that picture of a perfect life with everything we want in it doesn't go away. On a spiritual plane, someone might resolve to be a better person by being more generous, more patient, more loving, or just kinder in general. Maybe a husband and wife might resolve to find more time to nurture their relationship with each other or with their children. (Now and then it would be nice to hear of children resolving not to fight with their siblings, but that might be asking a bit much.) Maybe co-workers could resolve to get along better, not to let little things bother them so much. But all of us could afford to be a little more thoughtful when it comes to other people, and that could help make the world just a little closer to that perfection we all seek.

Cupid's Corner

I think Herb and I were destined to meet. We both lived in Brooklyn, N.Y., but about as far away as two people could live from each other and still be in the same borough (about a forty-five minute car ride). One day, I applied for a job at a company located in the center of Brooklyn, and I was told I could have so the job. But when I left the building, I noticed a sign for an opening in another company nearby, and decided to apply for that job, too, just in case it paid more the first. I ended up taking the second job.  A few weeks after I started to work there, a new employee was hired as an electronic technician. All the girls in the office were taking turns peeking at him. He was a tall, well built, blue-eyed blond, with a shy look about him. The general Consensus was that he was “so cute" and had the most Wonderful blue eyes. I thought he was cute, too, but I didn't want to look too interested because Anne, the girl who had trained me, let it be known that she "saw him first.” Anne was gorgeous, and I figured I didn't have a chance of getting his attention if she went after him. One day, I needed a pencil sharpener fastened to my desk and wondered who I could get to do it for me. As luck would have it, the man who was in charge of the electronics department also took care of little maintenance jobs and sent the new employee (Herb) to screw the sharpener to my desk. We started talking and felt very comfortable with each other. After that each time we saw each other we stopped to chat for a few minutes. After all, we were both the low men on the totem pole, being the most recent hirees, and it sort of gave us a bond. Before long, I was being teased about Herb finding so many excuses to come and talk to me. Anne got involved with someone else who worked in the company and Herb and I drifted together for lunch and coffee breaks. When I realized how much I liked him, I thought, Wow. If I'd taken that first job I was offered, I would never have met this terrific guy! We tried to keep our relationship platonic so it wouldn't affect our jobs, but after a few months, Herb got up the nerve to ask me for a date. He suggested we go ice-skating at a nearby skating rink. Little did he know that I had never ice skated before. But I wasn't about to tell him. So I bought myself a pair of ice skates and off we went. He had to hold me up a lot (which he didn't seem to mind), and proved himself to be a sincere and thoughtful person. After that, we were seeing each other almost every night after work, and ten months later, we were married. (My mother's advice to us was, "Be kind to each other.") A year and a half later, we had our first child, then four more over the next thirteen years. Herb's blue eyes were still turning me on, I guess. Actually, it was a lot more than that. Herb is a gentle soul and eager to please. He worked two jobs to support our growing family and always found time to take the kids on outings on weekends or holidays. It wasn't until our twenty-fifth anniversary that Herb and I got to take a vacation by ourselves, and it was surprising how romantic we could still be together. On an island in the Bahamas, we shared a double hammock. This is a picture someone took of us, giggling and almost falling out of the hammock. Herb is great at puns, which most people groan at, but which I still find humorous. He loves to tell people, "Would you believe she still laughs at my jokes?" And Herb always encouraged me to pursue whatever dreams I had. When I became interested in writing, he watched the kids while I took some evening courses. Eventually, my articles were published in the local newspaper, and Herb clipped them out and showed them to everyone at work. I guess what's made our love last through the years is that we respect and support one another. Sure, we've had our bad days, even days when the thought of calling it quits entered our minds. But we always managed to turn them around by trying to see each other's viewpoint, and then getting things back on track with a dose of forgiveness and a dose of laughter. I think taking my mother's advice about being kind to each other helped a lot, too. I see so many couples who put their partners down instead of building them up. It makes me want to tell them that how you make people feel about themselves has a strong effect on how they will feel about you. Last week, we celebrated our forty-third anniversary!
Terri Andersen
 New Milford, CT
True Romance Sept. 1998

Mother's Day

T's* View
Not long ago I heard a feminist refer to God as "She," and I thought the person was being a little sacrilegious, or facetious. But as Mother's Day approaches and I think of the goodness of mothers I've known or heard about, I got to thinking that while we can't actually classify God as to gender, mothers are probably as close an image of Him as anything we'll ever find on this earth.
To begin with, mothers are our co-creators, nurturing us with their own flesh and blood until we take on our independent form. And even after the umbilical cord is cut, there are invisible bonds that bind us to them forever. From the moment of birth, they love us not for any special reason, but just because we are. They watch over us, worry about us, see that we're fed and clothed, and never completely sever their ties with us. Whenever we need them, they're there for us, regardless of how good or bad we've been. We can abuse them, neglect them or ignore them but they still go on loving us and forgiving us, over and over again. (They may scream and holler a little in between, but their better nature usually comes through.)
Do something a little special for them and they think you're the best person in the world. Regardless of what you give them, they always try to give you more. They want only what's best for you—your happiness is their happiness, your success their fulfillment; and your pain is their pain.
A mother is the one you can turn to when the rest of the world lets you down. Often she knows what you need even without your telling her. You might not always take the advice she gives you, but deep down in your heart you know she has your best interests at heart. She'll take you in when you have no place to stay and she'll do without for herself if she has to, so that there's enough for you. If she has to nag, or scold, or punish you, a mother is only trying to steer you in the right direction or teach you something that will make life easier for you in the long run. She does it out of love and concern for your well being, which is always uppermost in her mind.
Someone once said that God couldn't be everyplace, so He invented mothers. I'll venture to go a step further and say that God put a special part of Himself into all those good women called Mothers, and knowing them is like getting a glimpse of Him.
Happy Mother's Day and God Bless You, Mothers.
*Terri the Typesetter
 Week of May 13, 1984

A Visit to the doctor"s office

June 19, 1998 The New Milford Times
By Terri Andersen
So many times, when we’re faced with a medical dilemma, we’re advised to get a second opinion. But what happens when the second opinion is completely different from the first one? Is the second necessarily better? Suppose you went to the second doctor first? How is a patient supposed to know which doctor is right? (Which one graduated the head of his class and which one at the bottom?) If two opinions are different, do you look for a third doctor to match either opinion number one or opinion number two? And what if your number three's opinion is completely opposed to numbers one and two? Will the insurance company cover all these opinions? frankly, the word “opinion” makes me a little uncomfortable. Is that an “educated guess?”) I’ve been to doctors who told me they didn’t know what it was that I had, yet they charged me for an office visit anyway. Is that fair? One the doctors I visited (how do you like that word? We go for a  "visit” and we get charged for it. My friends never charged me to visit them. When I visit a department store and they don’t have what I want, they don’t charge me for coming for a visit. Maybe doctors ought to call it something else.) To get back to my unfinished sentence, one of the doctors I “visited” asked me if I ever had the problem I came to him with before. When I said yes I did but it went away before I could get an appointment (like six weeks down the line), he told me to wait a few days and if the problem persisted, to come back and see him again. (Was he going to know something in a few days that he didn’t know then?)
I figured I’d solve the dilemma by getting a medical self-help book and educating myself. Hah! Either my complaints can turn out to be symptoms of a dozen different ailments, or I’m a lot sicker than I thought. (Read a few medical books and you’ve got only six months to live.) And almost all the remedies in the medical books end their last paragraph with “if problem persists, see your physician.”
Terri Andersen is a contributing writer for The New Milford Times.

The Good Old Days?

GOLDEN
Υ Ε Α R S
The New Milford Times June 5, 1998
The Good Old Days?
 BY TERRI ANDERSEN Contributing Writer
Were the “good old days” really so good? I can think of a few things that are much better today. For instance, buying a chicken to cook for dinner. In the good old days, my family lived across the street from a live chicken market, where the cackling could be heard all over town. Sure, when you went in for a chicken, you knew you were getting a real fresh one because you saw it strutting around just a few minutes ago. But after the butcher caught it and cut off its head (yuk, I can remember my stomach turn squeamish whenever I witnessed that), the housewife had to pluck all the feathers and take out all the innards when she got the chicken home. As I watched my mother do those messy jobs in our kitchen, I remember telling her, “I’m never going to do that when I grow up.” “If you want to eat chicken, you will,” she answered. But I insisted that’s one job I'd never do, and thanks to the industry’s progress, I never had to. (Guess you figured out by now that I was not brought up on a farm.) How about permanent waves in the good old days? The first perm I ever got was so traumatizing I swore I’d never get another one. They wrapped my hair around tiny curlers that were attached to a bunch of wires connected to a big domed electrical contraption. As I sat under it for what seemed like an awfully long time, I was sure I could smell my hair burning to a crisp. Of course, you couldn’t move while all the beautifying was going on, and when I looked in the mirror after it was over, all I could think of was steel wool pads. (Thank goodness for today’s lotions and conditioners.) Another memory I don’t cherish is the cold-water flat we lived in in Brooklyn, N.Y. The only heat came from a double duty stove in the kitchen (the bedrooms were ice cold in the winter), and to get hot water for washing dishes, clothes or ourselves, we had to heat big pots of water on the stove. The bathtub was also in the kitchen, disguised under a hinged wooden board that doubled as a seating area next to the kitchen table. One time someone knocked on the kitchen door when I happened to be taking a bath and my mother opened the door, not realizing I was still in the tub. I sank as low as I could and pulled the cover down to an almost closed position, hoping whoever the caller was wouldn’t come into the kitchen and try to sit on it. (Luckily, it was just the Fuller Brush man and my mom wasn’t buying anything that day.) I can think of lots of things that are better today than they were in the old days, but there is one thing I have to admit was a little better: I was younger then.

T'ai Chi or Hai Ti, the Seniors have it all

May 15, 1998
The New Milford Times
G O L D E N YEARS
T’ai Chi or Hai Ti, the Seniors have it all
BY TERRI ANDERSEN Contributing Writer
To prove to myself that I wasn’t going to vegetate once I retired, I decided to try some things I never tried before. After I finished the line dance class at the senior center awhile ago, I decided to enroll in the T’ai Chi class to see what that was all about. The first thing the instructor told us was that we had to breathe properly (from the stomach). Hmmm, I said to myself, this should be interesting. After breathing for over 60 years, I thought I was pretty good at that already, but I found that I had a few things to learn after all. As we did our first move, the instructor intoned “Inhale,” and just as I finished exhaling, he said, “Ex-hale.” I hurried up and took a quick inhale to catch up with everybody else’s exhale, but the instructor said that wasn’t necessary. It took a few tries for me to get the hang of it, but I did manage to breathe naturally when I did my movements. I think it was that “from your stomach” bit that threw me off in the beginning. The next thing to learn was balance and how to move gracefully. I thought I already knew that, too, considering how much dancing I did in my lifetime. Well, you guessed it, I had another surprise in store. When the instructor balanced on his left leg to do the “over the fence” move with his right leg, he was gracefulness personified. When I lifted my right leg the few inches necessary to do the move and tried to balance on the other leg, I was like a tightrope walker about to topple. And while the instructor's foot came down without a sound, mine came down with a loud thud, just quick enough to keep me from falling. After I went home the first week, determined to practice what I learned in class, I couldn’t remember a single thing other than “raise hands, lower hands,” and I was so disgusted with myself. But when I went back the following week, it turned out that everybody else in the class had forgotten, too, so our very patient instructor just went over it again until we “got it” (such a nice young man). One day after class, when a fellow student asked me if I was going to the high tea the senior center had scheduled for later in the week, with a dazed look I asked if that was another form of Chinese discipline. (After spending an hour on T’ai Chi, my mind automatically spelled High Tea as Hai Ti.) I guess I was disoriented (forgive me). Seriously, though, T'ai Chi is a beautiful experience when done correctly. Like everything else in life, it takes practice to get it right, and the teacher at the New Milford Senior Center is excellent. If you want to learn how to relax and benefit your mind as well as your body, you might want to look into T'ai Chi. (We even got some acupressure tips along the way.)

She enjoyed thought-provoking article? (On Forgetfulness-in case you forgot - ha ha)
To the Editor:
I enjoyed the thought-provoking article by Terri Andersen [in last week’s New Milford Times]. I do
hope she will appear in your paper often.
– T. Virginia Johnson New Milford

Don't be hard on yourself if forgetful

GOLDEN YEARS
May 8, 1998. The New Milford Times
Senior: Don’t be hard on yourself if forgetful
BY TERRI ANDERSEN Contributing Writer
I was visiting with some friends the other day, and the subject of age and memory came up. Everyone seemed to think that the mind just naturally deteriorates with age, and that memory loss is inevitable. Granted, age does take some toll on brain cells, but nowhere near what the average person thinks. Take the simple memory lapse of walking into a room to get something and then forgetting what it was you came into the room for. Do you think that’s age-related? There are a lot of people who do, but I think they’re wrong. I think that after a certain age, we’re just harder on ourselves than we ought to be. Watching my own children grow up, I’ve seen plenty of times when they forgot what they came into a room for, but did they even give it a second thought? Nope. They just went back to where they came from and realized right away what it was they needed if they wanted to continue whatever they interrupted themselves from doing. As we get older, if that happens to us, right away we think, “Uh-oh, I must be losing it. Sometimes I look at my brain as a computer that must be pretty fully loaded from all those years of storing information, and I wonder how much room there is for new data. But that doesn’t stop me from trying to squeeze more in, because I honestly think the brain is superior to any man-made device. - And I’m always amazed how that old information in the brain can be retrieved. When I can’t think of the name of someone or something, I go through the alphabet, and wouldn’t you know? My mind stops at the letter that triggers the name that’s been buried there someplace. Sometimes I wish I had a delete key to press when information I no longer need is using up valuable space. Take all the lyrics for songs like “Mairzy Doats and Dozy Doats” or “Three Little Fishies.” I really could use that space in my brain for more short-term memory. But speaking of short term memory, I think sometimes the reason we don’t remember something we heard recently is because we weren’t paying enough attention in the first place. (We didn’t input the data and put it on Save.) There are times when I still find myself saying, “I must be losing it” when I goof up, but then I remind myself that everybody goofs now and then, and  it’s not that big a deal. I guess what I want to say to “veterans of life” like myself is: Don't be so hard on yourselves. See the things you do well, take comfort in the fact that you know a lot more about life than those “youngsters” do, and take time out to do whatever it is you find enjoyment in. (And don’t lose the capacity to laugh at yourself every now and then.)

Is retirement the time to catch up on one's fun-to-do-list?

B10 The New Milford Times, New Milford, Conn., Friday April 25, 1997
GOLDEN YEARS
By Terri Andersen CONTRIBUTING WRITER
So, what’s it like to be a senior citizen? And how did I get to be one already? I remember the first time my husband and I were regarded as “seniors.” We were still in our 50s and had stopped at a chain restaurant for breakfast while we were on vacation. When the young (very young) waitress asked us if we’d like to see the senior citizen menu, we looked at each other in horror. Senior citizens? Us? But then we experienced what I guess you could call “mixed emotions.” We didn’t like the world acknowledging that we were getting old, but hey, we could get a discount on our meal. So we politely said, “Yes, please.” That was our first experience of this latest stage in our life, and by now we’ve come to terms with it. After all, graying hair and wrinkles are just as much a part of the living process as baby teeth, first steps, adolescence, and all those other steps that are a part of aging, which, if you think about it, really starts the minute we’re born into this world. We go from baby to toddler to student to employee, possibly to marriage, to parenthood and grand parenthood, and before we know it, we’ve become a senior citizen. Where did all the time go? How come that face in the mirror got so old: Where did all those wrinkles come from: How come that hair got so gray and lifeless? That’s not the real me. The real me is still young and full of life, still full of plans for things to do and places to see. Having just recently come into the stage of Social Security and retirement, I think senior citizenship takes a little adjustment. Being a mother and a working woman was a full-time job; there was very little time to spend on traveling, learning French, writing stories, painting pictures, playing the piano, reading books, sewing, etc., so all that was mostly relegated to “the future.” A few years ago I remember telling a friend that hopefully I’d get to do all those things in my next life, and her remark was, “I’ve heard of people putting things off but never that long!” So now I have the time to do all the things I want to do. Do I get to do them? As I said, I think retirement takes a little adjustment. Sometimes I don’t know where to begin. One day I say I’ll paint a picture today, but then I see the oven needs cleaning. So what wins out? The oven! We’re having company this weekend, and I don’t want to catch fire from some baked-on grease from the last time I used the oven. The next day I say I’ll read the book I got for a gift, but then my daughter comes to visit with my granddaughter and I figure the book can wait a little longer. Babies grow so fast, and they’re so cute! Tomorrow, I’m definitely going to start that exercise routine I got a video for. And try that new recipe a friend gave me. And call that old friend I promised to write to last year. Then there’s the New Milford Senior Center. They have so many things on the agenda. I want to take them all in. Classes in art, ceramics, line dancing; exercise sessions, bingo and scrabble, holiday parties, guest speakers on subjects I’d really like to know more about, etc. How does one get to fit it all in? I guess I have to learn to prioritize better and not procrastinate so much. From the looks of it, a lot of things I want to do may still have to wait for the next stage of life in the great beyond.
Terri Andersen is a New Milford resident who worked at The New Milford
Times in the 1970s.

Hubby and I just came back from a sailing tour...

Hi, folks! Hubby and I just came back from a sailing tour of the Caribbean to celebrate our wedding anniversary and we got to see some lush tropical islands like St. Maarten, St. Barthelemy, Nevis, Saba & Montserrat during the day and  partied every night on board--doesn't that sound glamorous? Well, now let me tell you the other side of the story. Originally, when we were talking “cruise” to celebrate the big event, I was picturing a luxury ship like the Love Boat, where the wind never blows your hair, everyone is romantic, and the Captain is just waiting for you to honor him with your presence at his table. The cabins, of course, are spacious and luxurious, with all the amenities on board that one can imagine. But as in any two-people relationship, what one has in mind is not necessarily what the other has in mind, and while I was thinking luxury, good old hubby was thinking “barefoot cruise,” which is why we found ourselves on a reconstructed sailing ship, where the wind plays havoc with your hair, everyone is wild, and the Captain is even wilder. As for the accommodations, they were not exactly what one would call “luxurious”--two bunks nailed to a wall, in a room that sloped, swayed, and had a few shelves for a closet. To give you an idea of what it felt like to sleep aboard a Sailing ship, when one of the passengers was asked “How did you sleep last night?” his answer was “Smack against the wall,” and we all knew exactly what he meant. Another “luxury” I kind of missed was a faucet that stays on when turned, and hot water. You see, in our tiny cubicle called a bathroom/shower there were only two faucets: one over the miniscule sink and one on the wall for the shower, both of which had to be held to keep the water running, and both of which ran only cold water. Ever try to take a shower with one hand on the faucet and one on the Soap, on a floor that slopes to the middle so the water can drain? Quite an experience! Now I know why someone who had taken the same cruise before us told me we'll probably want to shower together. I thought that was an indication of how romantic it would be, but I quickly found out the real reason--it's so one person can hold the water on while the other one screams and tries to find a corner to run to when those first cold drops hit the body. On the plus side, though, I really think the camaraderie that takes place on a ship like the one we were on can't possibly be matched on a “regular” cruise (unless hubby has me brainwashed by now). With the informality aboard and everyone sharing the same “roughing it” experience, you can't help but feel a unity with your fellow passengers. Hoisting sales together, then quenching your thirst together afterwards, makes for a lot of bosom buddies among previous strangers. As for myself, just watching the sails go up (to the music of “Amazing Grace,” mind you) made for a very touching experience. Add to that the constant party mood and hilarity and I know this is one trip we won't soon forget. - One last remark and I'll shut up about this trip already. Today I got to figuring that dear old hubby was no dummy when he suggested this trip. The bathroom at home that I've been complaining about for the last year because the remodeling is taking too long, and the paper is crooked, and the molding is not right, has suddenly become the most beautiful bathroom in the world to me, simply because it has level floors, space to turn around in, hot and cold running water and, best of all, it doesn't rock! Even to sit on a couch is a pleasure to me now, compared to a hard deck. What strikes us funniest now that we're back, though, is how we both are still swaying when we walk, so if you happen to see a middle-aged couple walking down the street who look like they've just come out of the neighborhood bar, don't be too hard on us; we're still just wobbly from our sailing expedition.
*Terri the Typesetter
November 9, 1984

I think there ought to be an 11th Commandment...

T's* View
I think there ought to be an 11th commandment -- "Thou shalt not humiliate.” I’ve seen so many feelings hurt and so many relationships damaged by a violation of that rule that it makes me wonder why more attention isn't given to it. The worst part of it is that often the hurt is not intentional, yet if only people would stop and think before they say something that might humiliate the other, so much pain could be avoided. If only people would put themselves in the other person's shoes and think how they would feel if what they're about to say would be said about them (especially in front of others), maybe they'd see what they're doing. I don't know when we reach that age of self consciousness where what others think of us matters, but it seems to surface somewhere in adolescence, and the taunting by classmates gives us our first taste of humiliation. I’ve even seen teachers who could cut a student down something terrible in front of a whole class and not give it a thought, then it's left for the poor mother to figure out why Susie hates to go to school. And parents are not exempt from the malady of putting down their kids, either, how many times have you seen a mother berate one of her children in public place or in front of his peers and think nothing of it? Yet when someone can't fight back, the wound can cause deep scars and it doesn't surprise me to hear that a lot of the violent crimes committed are in retaliation for pent-up anger or humiliation. Once we pass the adolescent stage and get into the dating years, you'd think we'd be on our best behavior to attract a potential mate, yet from what I've observed, that's when the act of humiliation seems to be practiced most! I've seen young fellas flirt with every girl passing by while they're with a date and never stop to think that it might be humiliating to the girl they're with (especially if they land up flirting with the girl's worst enemy). And the remarks they make to put the girl herself down makes you wonder if they're trying to court her or chase her away. Is that supposed to be macho, or are they fighting within themselves, on the one hand wanting a relationship, yet on the other hand fearful of getting involved and losing their freedom? But then I've seen girls pointing out to their date how terrific some other guy is, presumably to show that the present date isn't all that he could be, and then they wonder why he doesn't call anymore. The worst violators of the “11th commandment”, though, seem to be husbands and wives. In a relationship that's so close, feelings are bound to be closer to the surface and humiliation in that partnership can be devastating. I wonder how many divorces are caused by some cutting words being used once too often, yet it's so easy to start a relationship off on the wrong foot. Putting each other down can so easily become a way of life; it might start off with “only kidding" but then each one has to “get even" with the other and the “kidding" isn't really funny anymore. Everyone likes to have his or her ego boosted, not deflated, so why do people put each other down rather than boost them up? Do we think it takes something away from us to give the other person a boost? Do we fear the other person will feel too good about himself and look down on us if we build him up too much? I remember when I was getting married, my mother's advice to me and my husband was “Be kind to each other", and I think that about sums it up, because if we're kind to each other, we'll think twice before we humiliate.
* Terri the Typesetter
T-Views
Week of October 28, 1984

Have you seen the new touch lamps...

T’s* View
Have you seen the new "touch" lamps, which at the touch of a finger on certain parts of the lamp the light goes from dim to bright to brighter, and then off? Well, we got one a month or two ago and I'm curious to know if ours is a one-of-a-kind or if they all behave like ours does. The first time I plugged the lamp in, it was a real hot day so we had a fan on as well as the lamp, and every time the fan moved, the lamp got brighter or went off. Even a slight touch of the table it was on, made the lamp change from low to medium to high and then off. A wind blowing in the window or the slamming of a door also activated the lamp. Finally we disconnected the lamp and called the store we bought it from to ask for a replacement. The owner said he'd order another lamp for us and we could bring in the lamp we have now when the new one arrived. Not having heard from the store yet, I decided to give the lamp another try when the weather wasn't so hot and no fan was on and no wind was coming in from a window. (No one can say I didn't give The Lamp a chance.) This time the lamp stayed on all evening and seemed to be working fine - that is, until I tried to "touch" it off. I must have touched every inch of the lamp, to no avail, and figured the only way I'd be able to shut it off would be to unplug it. But rather than be in the dark, I turned on a lamp on another table first, and, lo and behold, the touch lamp went off! I figured it was just a fluke, but now I'm beginning to think The Lamp has a mind of its own. When I tried to show my husband the strange way the lamp acted, it decided to behave properly and made me sound like I was imagining things. But the next day when I tried to shut the light off, again it refused to go off. I told my husband to put the lamp on by his chair, and sure enough, my lamp went off. At least that showed him that I wasn't imagining things, but I should have known better than to let him in on the quirks of The Lamp - now he gets his jollies by turning his light on and off every time he wants to tease me, by turning my light on and off when I least expect it. When we tried to show the kids the "strange" actions of The Lamp, it again refused to cooperate and they thought we were both getting senile. But later in the evening, when one of the kids turned another light on in the room, The Lamp went off just like we said it did and they could see it for themselves. Of course, every time someone new came into the room, they put The Lamp through its paces, and everyone got a good laugh. - Now if I take The Lamp back to the store, how do I know if it will behave properly or act strangely? If I fell the store owner my story, will he think I'm off my rocker or will he believe me? Although, with all the fun we're having with our "new toy". I'm not sure I want to take The Lamp back after all. It's becoming like part of the family and I may just decide to keep it, if for nothing else than a conversation piece. - (Just as I finished writing this, The Lamp went off all by itself. That was a little eerie. I may be returning it to the store after all.)
 *Terri the Typesetter
October 7, 1984

Ever notice how easy something is after you've learned how to do it...

 T’s* View
 Ever notice how easy something is after you've learned how to do it, and how impossible it seemed before you learned it?  I remember the first time I was put at a desk with a phone that handled more than one line. Now that I know how to put someone on Hold, it seems impossible that I had so much trouble with the contraption back then, but at the time, I managed to cut someone off the line at least ten times a day. Then there was my first typesetting job. I started on a machine we called "the old klunker," which sounded like a machine gun in use and showed no typed material but punched holes on a yellow tape to signify which letters were used. I swore the first day I worked on it that I'd never last more than one day on the job, only to stay with that company ten years and go on to more and more advanced machines. Today it's the computer. The first time I saw the one I work on now, I was sure I'd never, never learn how to use it. Every time I pushed another button I was afraid I'd erase a whole week's work or foul up the whole mechanism. (And when a computer gets fouled up, it's FOULED UP! That's something it certainly can do better than any human can, as any of you who have been billed incorrectly by a computer must know.) Yet you can't stop progress and I figured if I wanted to hold a job I'd just have to conquer my fears. After all, there are millions of computers all over the world now and everyone seems to be using them, so they must be conquerable I told myself. And I have to admit that the procedures I learned seem very easy to me now, although there's still so much more to learn, I don't feel completely out of the woods yet. - Another item that gained popularity in these modern times is the microwave oven, although that, too, scares some people half to death. I have a friend who's had one in her home for almost a year now and has yet to use it for fear of blowing up the house or getting herself filled with radiation. - Then there's the computer codes used on groceries these days. I'm sure the system saves time and avoids human error, but every time I shop at a market that uses the codes, I can't help but feel that some of the sale items are being charged at the regular price because someone didn't program the sale price into the computer. And everything goes by so fast, I can't get the groceries on the counter and watch the register at the same time. And how about watches these days? You can get one that tells you the time all over the world (in digital, of course), as well as the date and temperature (some even have built-in calculators) but your eyesight better be good to be able to see it all. Personally, I'll stick to my watch with the good old hands that point to numbers I can see without using a magnifying glass. I guess what I'm trying to say is that progress is fine but it's all happening too fast and by the time I'm ready to get used to the newest invention, it becomes obsolete and there's something new to learn to live with. I remember reading Alvin Toffler's "Future Shock" a few years ago and thinking that he must be exaggerating, but from the looks of things, he knew what he was talking about. Guess I'll just have to speed up my system to keep up with the times, but don't say I didn't go down fighting! -
 *Terri the Typesetter
September 23, 1984