Thank You New Milford

Spectrum
 Friday, October 7, 2005
Maturity
Thank you so much, New Milford, for 36 years of happy memories
Never to be forgotten will be New Milford's enjoyable Village Fair Days, the concerts on the Green, the hometown parades our kids marched in, the talent shows we watched two of our boys win at New Milford High School, and the home we were blessed to live in for the last 36 years.
When my husband and I moved to New Milford in 1969, we had no idea what to expect. We came because we needed a home for our growing family and didn't want to be too far from Danbury, where Herb worked at the time. The first thing that impressed us was seeing mountains in the background of the railroad station off Bank Street, which made us feel we were in “the country." (My brother from California called my mountains “hills with trees” in comparison to his states mountains, but as former big-city people, hills with trees were not part of our past landscape, and we loved them.) When we drove a little ways up Route 202 and saw people skating on a frozen pond, we felt we were in a different era, one seen only in the movies. The view from the back windows of our house was equally impressive to us, with lots of trees, and spectacular sunsets. When railroad trains blowing their whistle came chugging along not far from our back yard, the kids couldn't run to a window fast enough to watch the trains go by. In those days, our city relatives took the passenger train to New Milford to visit us, and they, too, loved the rural atmosphere of this area. Then there was the Easter Sunday that was more like Christmas because of a heavy snowfall. Since the church we attend was in town on Elm Street back then, many of its parishioners left their cars home that Sunday and walked in the middle of the road to get to church. Instead of sporting Easter finery, everyone was bundled up in their winter coats and boots, and it seemed only natural for people to comment on the unusual weather. I remember loving the feeling that New Milford was such a friendly town. When spring arrived, the scenery was even more beautiful, with young trees budding and spring flowers blossoming everywhere one looked. I was blossoming, too, with baby number five on the way. Since New Milford Hospital was nearby, that's where I delivered, and I couldn't get over the wonderful care I got there. My first three children were born in a Brooklyn hospital where eight to 10 new mothers shared award, and the bathroom was down the hall someplace. Our fourth baby arrived in the middle of the night in Danbury, where I was left in a dark labor room all by myself, cringing with pain, only to have a nurse passing by in the corridor cheerily say, “Having a good one, eh?” and continuing on her way down the hall. (Husbands weren't allowed in the labor room in those days), When baby number 5 was born, in New Milford Hospital, a nurse's aide sat by my bedside the whole time, rubbing my back and offering words of comfort. The difference in care was like night and day. The following year (no, I didn't have another baby), I needed to find some part-time work when Herb's company cut out everyone's overtime. I wondered where I'd be able to find a typist job close by, with a company that had evening hours so Herb could watch the kids and we wouldn't have to hire a babysitter. Along came Mary Cleary, secretary at the school our kids attended at the time, and she suggested I apply at the local newspaper office, which I did, and I was told I could start working there that evening. Even though the typesetting machine was a little more complex than a typewriter, I managed to learn what I had to and ended up working there for the next 10 years. One day an editor of one of the paper's supplements found herself with an empty page to fill a few hours before deadline and wondered where she could find some copy at the last minute. When I told her I had some pieces I had written just for the fun of it at home, she told me to go get them and she'd see if she could use them. She wasn't at her desk when I came back to the office, so I just left them there and hoped for the best. When the paper came out the next morning, there were the two pieces I had written, byline and all, and I was ecstatic. When she asked me if I’d like to write for her on a regular basis, I was in heaven, and I have been writing articles or columns ever since. I'll always remember New Milford as the place I first got published over 30 years ago. I'll also remember the wonderful people I met along the way. Art and Norm Cummings were two of my co-workers in the '70s, as were a number of typesetters who are some of my best friends to this day. . Then there are the people I met when I worked for the state, the people I worked with at New Milford Thrift Mart (where I found some terrific bargains, too), the dedicated people at AARP the members of my church, and last but definitely not least, the wonderful people who run New Milford's super Senior Center. Never to be forgotten will be New Milford's enjoyable Village Fair Days, the concerts on the Green, the hometown parades our kids marched in, the talent shows we watched two of our boys win at New Milford High School, and the home we were blessed to live in for the last 36 years. By the time this is in print, Herb and I will most likely be in North Carolina, living closer to our children and grandchildren, but a part of our hearts will always be in New Milford.
Terri Andersen, who lived in New Milford for 36 years and has been a regular columnist in the “Spectrum Maturity” sections of The Greater New Milford Spectrum the past several years, is in the process of moving to North Carolina.

To move or not to move, that is the question for my husband and me

Maturity
Friday, August 5, 2005
Terri Andersen
Senior Moments
Lately I have seen a lot of houses for sale in this area, and many condos and big houses being built. - That obviously means a lot of people are on the move. Some people say “now is the time to sell” and others say “now is the time to buy.” Evidently both selling and buying are going strong these days. Why I chose this subject to write about this month is because there's a possibility my husband and I may be among those on the move one of these days, since all five of our grown children moved south (four to North Carolina and one to Florida) for better job opportunities. Now they keep telling us it's our turn to move to be closer to them. On the plus side, we'd move into a smaller place than we have here (now that Herb and I are “up there” in age, the house we're in is getting to be a bit much for us to take care of). Also, we wouldn't have to worry about shoveling snow in the winter, and our boys tell us they would help with any yard work and repairs if needed (everybody tells us not to count on that). The biggest plus, though, is that we'd see our children and our grandchildren more often. On the negative side is the fact that we'd have to leave the many friends we've made in New Milford, plus a house we love (spacious, with lovely views, and within walking distance of the village center, which means a lot to me personally because I don't drive). One of the things that's bothering us, though, is that we'd have to sell before we could afford to buy, and that puts us in a quandary about what appliances to leave behind, since we wouldn't know ahead of time what would be in a house we choose after we sell this one. Then there's the big decision to downsize everything we own in order to have less to move (I hear moving costs a bundle), and I've written previously about how hard it is to part with things we've accumulated over the years. My family and I have been in our house for over 36 years now, and the notion of moving never entered our minds, because we considered this house a godsend from the minute we found it. In 1969, with four children and a fifth one on the way, we were renting a two-bedroom garden apartment in Danbury, when all the tenants were notified that someone bought the whole complex of over 50 units and wanted everyone out so that the apartments could be converted into condos that would eventually be for sale, not rental. My husband and I had no idea how we'd manage to find a new place to live, since we had no savings for a down payment on a house or condo, and there weren't that many landlords who wanted to rent to a family with a lot of kids. (Even when we went to buy a bed one time, with all the kids in tow, the salesperson said, “twin beds for you two, I hope.” I guess he thought he was being funny.) One night, not being able to sleep because I was so worried about where we would live, I started fantasizing about what kind of house would be ideal for us. Four or five bedrooms, preferably all on one floor, and a large yard for the kids to play in would be nice. I then asked God if He would help us find the right house for us, regardless of how many bedrooms it had, as long as it was something we could afford. When I told my husband about my fantasy, he said: “Get real. We'd never be able to afford a house with five bedrooms.” The next day a few neighbors and I got together in my living room and were poring over real estate ads in the newspapers, since we were all in the same situation. After they left, I noticed someone had left one paper open to the ads, and I decided to take another look at it. The first ad that jumped out at me was for a five-bedroom house in New Milford, listed as a handyman special, at a price we might be able to afford if we could get someone to lend us some money for a down payment. Serendipity? At the time, I had no idea where New Milford was, and I didn't even wait for Herb to come home from work (and try to tell me he wasn't that handy). I went right ahead and called the Realtor and asked for an appointment to see the house listed. It wasn't all on one floor, but that was OK. Three flights of stairs would be good exercise for all of us. When the kids saw the spaciousness of the house, they went a little crazy with joy. The two oldest boys, who were 10 and 13 at the time, were ecstatic at the thought of each of them having his own bedroom up in the attic, which had two finished rooms and a tree-top view from four stories up. Our 7-year-old daughter was equally excited about not having to share a bedroom with her siblings, and that left a master bedroom for Herb and me, plus a nursery for the year-and-a-half-old toddler and the baby due the following month. To make a long story short, Herb's parents, my parents and my brother managed to scrape together enough money for a down payment for us, and the house was ours. - Herb turned out to be handier than he thought he was, the kids all pitched in to help in whatever way they could, and I can honestly say we all fell in love with this house. Some years later, the town decided to put sidewalks on our Street, which meant we had to sacrifice a part of the yard to have a driveway put in, but even that was a good thing, since by then the older kids had cars of their own plus friends with cars, and we were the only place on the block with room for six or seven cars. Just the idea of moving at our age is mind-boggling, but we know people who've done it and survived, so I guess we would, too. But it's such a hard decision to make.
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford.

I'd rather live with problem I have than problem I might get from drug

Spectrum
Maturity
Friday, June 3, 2005
Terri Andersen
I'd rather live with problem I have than problem I might get from drug
Every time I see a drug commercial on TV, it amazes me that anyone would even consider taking the product after hearing what could happen as a side effect of the medicine advertised. "Ask your doctor if this medicine is right for you," they often add at the end of the commercial. Can a doctor really be sure which drug will adversely affect one patient and not another? In addition to the commercials, the printed material that comes with prescription drugs these days and all the information available on the Internet sometimes makes me wonder if I'm better off with the condition I have than what I might get by taking the medicine prescribed. I realize that it's all about CYA (cover your assets) protection for the drug companies, and most of those side effects might never happen, but for me it's led to a bad case of pharma-ceutiphobia. [I'm not sure that word is in any dictionary, but I think it's pretty self explanatory: a fear of medicine.] When I lost my sense of smell a few years ago, I went to a doctor to see if I could get it back. After I got the prescription filled for a nasal spray, I decided not to take it. Why? The medicine prescribed couldn't guarantee good results for the problem (anosmia), and when I read all the possible side effects (nose bleeds, hole in septum, eye problems, to name a few) I figured I'd rather live with the problem I had than the problem I might get. Later I found out that two people I know had taken that particular medicine, and one subsequently suffered from severe nose bleeds and the other had to have two eye operations. Worse yet, neither got their sense of smell back, while mine is slowly returning on its own. [All the flowers I got for Mother's Day filled the house with perfume. While I couldn't identify each scent individually, I was very much aware of the aroma of flowers. And I can smell when something's burning on the stove in the kitchen even before the smoke alarm goes off.] As a senior citizen who comes in contact with a pretty wide circle of other seniors (at the Senior Center, the ThriftMart and AARP), I find that health conditions are a pretty popular topic, and sooner or later there are discussions about medical side effects and how many different medications have to be taken because of them. Recently a medicine prescribed for me sounded good for the condition I have, and I was ready to take it until I read the warnings about its possible side effects. The brochure had to let people know that the medication caused bone cancer in some of the rats used in the medical experiments, but to alleviate any fears a potential user might have, the brochure stated it was “not known” if humans would be affected the same way. If that wasn't enough to scare me, the “milder” side effects were possible dizziness and leg cramps, neither of which I was anxious to experience. The doctor prescribing the medication told me to “think zero" concerning any possible side effects, but while I agreed with him that how one thinks has a big effect on results (placebos, for example), trying to ignore something we've already heard is like a judge telling a jury to ignore some incriminating evidence that was just stated and not to let it influence their decision. That's easier said than done. In fact, usually that's what becomes the focal point in one's thoughts. As it is, my whole sense of carefree living has changed to worry about what might happen now that I know my body is not as healthy and strong as it once was. It also didn't help to read that with many medications elderly patients may have greater sensitivity to the adverse effects. I hope what I've written doesn't sound like I'm against doctors or medicine in general. I realize many lives are improved or even saved by doctors, and I'm glad we have medicines that can accomplish amazing cures. However, I can't help being afraid of the harm they might also do." - I'm probably a doctor's nightmare because I question everything, and I know I don't make the ones who have to deal with me very happy. In the old days, patients weren't given much information about the medicine prescribed for them, and a lot of healing was done with nature's own remedies, but I guess that's not good enough anymore. A friend whose son is a pharmacist told me not to pay so much attention to, the side effects of medication because the odds of getting them are often very low. She said that even if only one person in a few thousand experienced a problem, it had to be listed. My concern is for that “one” whom the odds didn't favor. I don't mind taking a chance on winning a multi-dollar sweepstakes with odds of one in a few million because if I don't win it doesn't really affect my life. But taking a chance on getting an ailment that might be worse than what I have scares me. I guess I don't like playing Russian Roulette.
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford. -

I realized I'm more attached to "things" than I thought

Spectrum
Maturity
Friday, April 1, 2005
Terri Andersen
Senior Moments
I realized I’m more attached to 'things' than I'd thought
My husband and I recently visited some friends who had just moved to a condo after living in a fairly large house for 27 years. They said it took them over three months to get ready for their move because there was so much they had accumulated over the years and they agonized over what to take with them and what to dispose of.  As I listened to them tell us how hard it was to part with things they had become attached to, I began to wonder what I could live without and what I couldn't. How does one downsize home inventory? How does one relinquish prized possessions? - How does one decide what's treasure and what's junk? As I looked at everything in our house after we got home from the visit, I was appalled at how much we would have to part with if we should decide to move to a smaller place someday — and I don't doubt that day will come, when three flights of stairs and a steep driveway become more than we can handle. I always bragged that I was not a “material girl,” that things were not important to me. Well, I'm finding out that I was wrong. As I resolved to start getting rid of items little by little, I realized I'm more attached to “things” than I had thought. The big items, like furniture and the piano, shouldn't be a problem — there definitely will have to be room for my piano — but all the “stuff" accumulated over the years might create some uncomfortable decisions. When I first retired from work outside the home, I promised myself I’d sort through all the snapshots taken over the last 20 years, get rid of duplicates or imperfect shots, then put the ones worth saving into albums by subject (vacations, weddings, holidays, family gatherings, etc.). I even picked up a bunch of albums with which to do the job, but nine years of retirement slipped by and that job never seemed to be enough of a priority to get it done. That means all those photos and albums will have to come with us to our next house. Then there are the books I can't see myself parting with. We have a set of World Book Encyclopedias from the 1960s, and everyone tells me to get rid of them, that they're outdated and I could get any information I need on the Internet. But so many times I want a fact about a state, a country, a past president, a flower, bird, or whatever, and find what I want without having to hook up to the computer. Often while I'm looking for what I want in the encyclopedia, I see so many other interesting subjects to read about under any given letter of the alphabet. I figure facts are facts, whatever date they took place. As for classic stories and inspirational books, I can't imagine getting rid of any of them, either. Ditto for videos of the Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and Cary Grant era. I can't even part with sentimental greeting cards I’ve gotten over the years from friends and relatives. And if a card is not particularly sentimental but has a beautiful scene, I save that, too, thinking I'll use it as a guide when I want to do a painting someday. That means the art supplies will have to come to the next house, too. When I think of all the clothes in my dresser drawers and closets, I get mad at myself for holding on to items I hardly ever wear. I must have over 30 tops, all clean and neatly folded in one dresser, but every time I try one of those on, there's something just not right about it and I head for the same four or five tops in my closet that are comfortable old standbys. (Truthfully, it's because they're kinder to my figure flaws, which I tell myself will be gone someday and the others will fit just fine then. Sound familiar?) Then there's footwear. I’ll buy a new pair of boots and think I'll throw the old ones out, only to find myself holding onto the old boots because they're still good enough to wear to go out and shovel snow. Ditto for old shoes. They're good enough for around the house or in the garden, so why throw them out? It may be a little late for New Year resolutions, but spring cleaning is another good reason to eliminate clutter, so I'm resolving to get rid of a few things every day until only the essentials will have to be transported if we decide to move to a smaller place. The big issue now is whether I get my husband to get rid of some of his excess baggage. I say he has more “stuff" than I do, but he doesn't agree.
Is there a 12-step program for packrats?
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford.

Advice on how to enjoy and/or survive 50 years of marriage

Spectrum
Friday, February 4, 2005
Maturity
Terri Andersen
Senior Moments
Advice on how to enjoy and/or survive 50 years of marriage
When someone lives to the ripe old age of 100, everyone wants to know what contributed to his or her longevity. Likewise, when a couple celebrates 50 years of marriage, they're often asked what contributed to the longevity of their marriage. As someone who just recently celebrated a golden anniversary, I feel I'm qualified to answer that second question. Mind you, this piece will be from my viewpoint, since I'm the talkative one in the family. Husband Herb is a nice guy but usually not one to put his views into words. (What? You think to spend 50 years together a couple has to have the same viewpoint on everything? Get real! Show me two people who think exactly alike, who agree on everything and never have a difference of opinion.) The first thing a couple has to learn when they get married is how to live with someone who's practically their exact opposite. (That realization is usually discovered pretty soon after the honeymoon.) - Ever notice how there's one partner who's a spender and the other decidedly “frugal,” to put it kindly, or one is a neatnik and the other is more of a “free spirit” who thinks nothing of leaving a wet towel on the bathroom floor or, worse yet, on the freshly made bed. - When Herb and I had a difference of opinion one time, I was told not to “have a cow" about it. So I learned to have a calf instead of a cow by deciding and choosing what was really important to me and letting go of things of lesser consequence. Here's what I came up with:
C: for Compromise. Ideally, marriage is a partnership with someone you love, so don't always insist on having everything your way. Both partners should have a say about things that matter to them, and with sincere consideration for each other a solution will be possible. (My mother's advice to us when we were getting married was short and sweet: All she said was “Be kind to each other.”)
 A: for Acceptance of your partner as he or she is and not how you think he or she should be. If someone is the quiet type, don't expect compliments and praises over everything you do. Do what has to be done because it's the right thing to do and you know that. (Pat yourself on the back if you have to be praised.)
 L: for Laughter. Both partners having a compatible sense of humor has been one of the biggest factors in the enjoyment of our marriage. Herb is great with puns, and while some people might groan at them, I see them as creative and funny. It amazes us that we find so much to laugh about, and Herb often tells people that I still laugh at his jokes after all these years, like he can't get over it.
F: for Forgiveness, a very important factor in keeping a marriage together. Living together for 50 years is bound to include some occasions where one's feelings get hurt, sometimes more so than other times. It may take a few hours or a even few days to get over it, but without forgiveness a marriage has little chance of surviving as a happy relationship. (It does help, too, when the offender says, “I’m sorry,” contrary to the line in the “Love Story” movie: “Love means never having to say you're sorry.") I have to say that Herb and I consider ourselves blessed to have found each other all those years ago and to have raised our five children together. We've had our ups and downs over the years (even a red hot rage now and then), but the ups have outweighed the downs, and we're so glad we were able to stay together through it all. What's surprises me when I mention “downs” is that neither of us even remembers what they were about. (Sometimes I wonder if a lot of today's divorces could have been averted if couples gave themselves more time to get over what they considered irreconcilable.) As a married senior citizen, you don't dare say anything even remotely critical of your spouse because so many people, women especially, have lost their partners by this stage of their lives, and the first thing they'll say is, “Be glad you still have each other. I'd do anything to have my husband back again." If nothing else, it makes us realize how bleak our life could be without each other. As for our children, they're proud of the fact that their parents stayed married for 50 years and showed it by giving us the gift of a Caribbean cruise for our anniversary (a suite on the ship and a chauffeur to take us from the plane to the ship, mind you). They went all out for us, and we had a wonderful time. One of the highlights was a special dinner in the ship's elite French restaurant on the actual night of the anniversary, with a special cake and serenade by the waiters, plus a place on the stage when the ship had a Newlywed/Not So Newlywed game, and  we were the ones married the longest. It was hilarious, and we won a bottle of champagne. After that we were getting congratulated by everyone on the ship who saw us on stage that night. As a bonus, our daughter and son-in-law had arranged for their children's godmother and her friend, who live near New Orleans, to meet us at the ship when it docked there and give us a tour of the French Quarter before taking us to the airport. We loved it, and it was the icing on the cake for me. I'd say the best part of the trip for us was that we could still enjoy each other's company and have fun together like we did in our younger years.
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford.

Happiness comes from complaining less and being positive more often

Spectrum
Maturity
Terri Andersen
Senior Moments
 Friday, December 3, 2004
Happiness comes from complaining less and being positive more often
In my last column, I aired a lot of grievances the average person has with today's world. I wrote about how technology sometimes makes things more unpleasant than we would like them to be (like pre-recorded telephone messages, advertisements on TV and in the mail, unsolicited credit card applications and blank checks). But would it make us happy to do away with today's telephones, televisions or computers? I doubt it. Unfortunately, so much of what irritates us is something that benefits the business or organization that originated the practice, so it's probably here to stay. Since we can't go back in time, we might as well do what we can to enjoy what's good in the here and now. (The Serenity Prayer might help: “God, grant me the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.") It's often been said, if you want to be happy, do what it takes to make other people happy. Abraham Lincoln is quoted as saying, “When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad." Scholars say the universe gives back to us what we give to the universe. If we're generous and grateful people, we'll be rewarded with more to be grateful for. If we live a mean or selfish life, peace and happiness will elude us. There may be times when the good we do and giving our best to the world might not be appreciated, but we shouldn't let that bother us. Mother Teresa advocated that we do good and give our best to the world anyway. Another key to happiness is to appreciate what we have and not dwell on what we don't have. Remember the song "Accentuate the Positive, Eliminate the Negative"? That pretty much says it all. Often a person with a few problems might be tempted to ask, “What do I have to be thankful for? My bills are piling up, I hate my job, nobody understands me,” or something to that effect. The trouble is, a lot of people see only what's wrong and don't take the time to see all that's right in their world or put in the effort it takes to get what they want. Every day we have things to be thankful for — the beauty of nature that surrounds us, the abundance of foods available to us, family, friends, the wondrous body we live in — and so much more. What's the one thing anyone with a broken arm or leg would want more than anything else? Healing of that arm or leg, right? Yet if we have nothing broken, we take for granted all of our parts that are working fine. For anyone who doesn't think that's such a big deal, consider Christopher Reeve and what he had to go through after his paralyzing accident. In spite of his acknowledging that the mind and spirit transcend the body, in a Reader's Digest interview he admitted that sometimes it bothered him when people took their ability to move for granted. Sadly, Christopher didn't live to see a cure for spinal injuries, but he did as much as he could to champion that cause, which may very well help future victims. How we think also has a lot to do with happiness. As so many people have said, thoughts become things. Isn't it true that anything created by man first started with a thought? A book I’m reading, “There's a Spiritual Solution to Every Problem" by Wayne Dyer, says many people spend all their energy thinking about what they lack, or what they fear, not realizing that our thoughts have a big influence on what happens in our lives. According to Dr. Dyer, if we say we can't be happy unless we have this or that, we're not allowing happiness to come into our lives, and it will elude us as long as we think that way. The same goes for holding a grudge and harboring hate or resentment, which does more internal harm to the hater than to the one being hated. When we learn to forgive, we do ourselves a favor, Dr. Dyer says. He also says if we pursue a goal and believe we can achieve it, we put ourselves in a frame of mind which brings good vibrations into our field of energy. I think even something as simple as a smile can make a change in our attitude. If you're feeling down in the dumps, put a smile on your face, just for the fun of it, and it's surprising how uplifted that can make you feel. (Of course, if you walk around with a smile on your face all the time, people will wonder what you've just done or what you're thinking about, but so what? Keep them guessing.) Another quote attributed to Lincoln is: “A man can be as happy as he makes up his mind to be.” What we all have to remember is that our most important power is the power of choice. We can choose the negative, which supplies us with a lower energy field, or the positive, which supplies us with a higher energy field. We can choose peace instead of despair, forgiveness instead of holding a grudge, and to give instead of take. See the best in people instead of the worst. Everyone has ups and downs in their life, but it seems to me our happiness or unhappiness depends on which we choose to focus on, the ups or the downs.
Terri Andersen is a resident of New Milford.

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