How 600 Horsepower Helped Me Try For A Darwin Award

 A few years ago my wife gave me the best Christmas present ever, a bucket-list dream come true for a geezer sport-car enthusiast like me:  5 laps each in a Lamborghini Huracan (602 hp) and a Ferrari 488 (660 hp) at a track just south of Las Vegas run by Speed Vegas. They have a stable of cars you can

Me and "My" Lamborghini

drive, and although the Huracan and the 488 aren't the tippy-top of their lines, they were close enough for me to make the experience nearly stroke-inducing, which was what I was after. Now they have added some new cars to the buffet, including the jaw-droppingly delicious Corvette C8 (undoubtedly the best Vette ever). 

Ever since I was a teenager I've been a fan of sport cars, and I even owned an old classic Austin-Healey roadster which I managed to keep running with duct tape and baling wire.  It was a piece of junk, really, but it cornered well and looked really cool.  My fantasy, though, was to experience the thrill of a truly high-performance machine and Ferrari and Lamborghini were at the pinnacle of my hormone-addled dreams.

Me and "My" Ferrari

There are several of this kind of self-indulgent opportunities in Vegas, as you might imagine.  Other tracks allow you to go faster than the one I chose. For example one consisted of three straightaways connected by sharp turns at the end of each.  But the 1.5 mile track where I had my OmgI'mReallyDoingThis! experience was specifically designed to showcase ALL the performance capabilities of these marvelous machines. The back half of the course involved nearly continuous turning in both directions, accelerating and braking in between. The last turn entering the .5 mile straightaway requires that you slow to about 35-40 mph but then give it full acceleration (aka "full exhilaration") before having to brake for the sharp turn at the end.  I hit 134 in the Lamborghini and 141 in the Ferrari, and somehow resisted the siren song to go just a little faster before I hit the brakes.  Both of these cars are capable of 200+mph with enough room, but not on this track -- a good thing, according to my wife.

They don't just let you hop into one of their $300k cars and take off, however. First, they collect your money and make you sign a liability waiver which essentially says (1) you're crazy, (2) you admit that this is a very dangerous thing to do, and (3) you agree not to hold them responsible for A.n.y.t.h.i.n.g.

"Oh sure, piece of cake..."

Then there's an extensive briefing on the layout of the track and the operation of the cars' paddle shifters. Paddle shifters are a great invention which allows rapid shifting without using a clutch and without removing your hands from the steering wheel -- a far cry from my old Austin Healey that required frequent one-handed steering as you shifted with your right hand, and worked the clutch pedal with your left foot, while your right foot operated the brake and accelerator in a complex action called "heel and toe."  Anyway, in the photo you can see me pretending to understand the explanation of the best "line" through the course. After this you are fitted for a helmet (aka "brain bucket") that might allow for an open casket ceremony, if you're lucky.

Finally, you are accompanied while driving by a "coach" in the passenger seat who gives you turn-by-turn tips.  Also, he has a brake pedal of his own so as not to be totally in the hands of some crazed geezer like me who would consider this to be the perfect way to die, or who might have a coronary from the thrill of it all.  I'm not sure I would want the coach's job -- it would be a little like being a high school driving instructor at 130 mph. My couch got a little nervous that I wasn't braking hard enough at the end of the straightaway, but he never used his pedal.  I think he knows that novice drivers like me may be lulled by the (false?) sense of control these cars give you -- he was a teense more rational, plus he was young and had many more years ahead of him if he survived this gig with me behind the wheel.

An option which the track offers is a video package which includes views of the track from the front of the car, and interior shots of the dashboard instruments.  Naturally I had to have it.  

In the photo you can see the onboard display of my speed and my position on the track during one of my laps (yellow dot) in the Ferrari.  Traffic flow is counter-clockwise, and so you can see that I don't have much distance to bring the car down from 140 mph to about 40 for the next turn. However, these cars are engineered to do just that -- accelerate fast, brake fast, and corner like they are glued to the road surface.

I did pretty well and by the end of my 10 laps I was on Cloud 9. But then it got even better.  The onboard video for which I paid extra had failed during my Lamborghini laps.  I expected just a discount, but instead they gave me four more laps in the Lamborghini free!  Fourteen laps altogether! Viva Las Vegas!

Here's a link to me in action in the Ferrari. The video was taken by my wife from the observation deck. At times she had trouble finding the car in the viewfinder, so be patient.  You really can't see the back part of the track very well, but the acceleration in the straightway is very clear. Make sure your sound is turned up.

There's no deep philosophical insight I can offer here, other that perhaps this is another example of how we often appreciate things all the more when they come later in life, rather than being wasted on the young.  Also, there is a clear lesson that it's never too late for a Darwin Award, which is given to those whose deranged behavior removes them from the gene pool -- in my case before senescence robs me of that, too.

Gramps Gets a Tattoo!

Injecting ink into people's skin is big business these days, and the "body modification" industry, which includes piercing, has been growing briskly in recent years. According to a 2018 analysis by Market Research, in the U.S. about $1.35 billion is spent on tattoos, another $900 million on body piercing, and about $700 million on tattoo removal.  This totals about $3 billion per year, nearly double the amount spent in 2007.

Fun Times

At one time, displaying a tattoo was considered a mark of delinquency, drunken misjudgment, criminality, or rebellion against mainstream society.  Today it is far more acceptable and regarded by many as a reasonable thing to do as an artistic expression of personal identity.  A 2021 survey by Statistica found that 35% of Americans report having one tattoo, and about 20% have 2-3. The percent of 30-39 year-olds with 1 or more tattoos doubled from about 28% to 55% in 2015.  Today's mainstream acceptance of tattooing is illustrated by another recent study by Market Research in which 30% of college graduates reported having 1 or more tattoos.

Although most people get their first tattoo while young (40% when 18 years or younger), there is a

Looking Good!

growing trend for people in their 60's, 70's , and even older to get tattooed.  Many of them are retirees who feel they are no longer constrained by considerations of workplace acceptability and career advancement. There is also a common feature of geezerdom that involves an attitude of  "who cares what others may think -- I'll do what I want." As one tattoo artist put it:

“They hit the ‘screw it’ stage — ‘I’m going to do what I want, and screw the rest of the world,’ ” said Sandy Parsons, 63, co-owner of Great Southern Tattoo in Alexandria and College Park, where business from people older than 50 has gone up by 30 percent in the past 20 years. Two or three times a week, someone older than 50 comes in for a first tattoo. (Tara Bahrampour)

In addition to the rebellious codger attitude, there is likely a desire among some older tattoo recipients to identify with being young again, like all those all those 30-somethings they see sporting ink these days. Better to look like that than just another geezer with liver spots.

Speaking of liver spots, older skin can pose a number of problems for tattooing.  Not only does older skin have more blemishes, sags, and bags, it can also be much thinner than young skin, and therefore more susceptible to bruising and bleeding, something I've explored previously ad nauseum in "Geezer Grease: My Missed Opportunity to Make Bazillions."  Age-related health conditions can also make tattooing more challenging -- like diabetes and coronary treatments with blood thinners, which make bleeding more likely.  This can lead to the ink "blowing out" and leaking into adjacent areas and spoiling the tattoo design. Skilled tattoo artists who are experienced with older clients can ameliorate some of the issues, for example by setting their needles to a shallower depth and working more slowly.  It seems to me that the designs themselves might be adapted to these challenges, though I lack the artistic sensibility to create examples.  For instance, imagine a design that can morph gracefully and artfully from detailed realism to abstract smoosh depending on the amount of "blowing out."  Or designs that can incorporate blemishes like liver spots, making them features, not flaws, like say spots in a small leopard or markings on a snake. And wrinkles, sags and bags?  Sure -- just look at artists like Salvador Dali and other surrealists for possible inspiration!

You Be The Judge

So far we've considered only the issues involved when people get tattoos when they're older.  Another of this seems relevant for today's ink-happy young'ns to consider. You will get old....and so will your tattoos.  That cute little smiley face on your young tight butt may eventually swell to a thin-mouthed pudgy-puss or morph into Mr. Potato Head as the cellulite takes over.  And that lovely hummingbird on your calf might become a rather evil-looking pterodactyl as the chicken-skin takes over.  Finally, the inks in tattoos fade over time, and a gorgeous colorful pattern at 22 can be nearly monochromatic as the decades march on relentlessly.  I think there is real opportunity here to make gazillions if an entrepreneur can somehow combine computer software that can project the ways that age can transform the human body with software that can map different possible tattoo

Well......

designs onto those changes.  This would allow a preview that could greatly help in deciding which tattoo to select and where to put it.  This might have to be pretty sophisticated programming to take into account each individual's own body type, family background, and life-style choices for predicting how that person's body might change over time. However, I'm sure there are many geek-coders out there who could rise to the challenge.

You may be wondering if I have any tattoos or if I'm considering getting any. A definite double NO to that. I'm getting more accepting of other people having tattoos, except when I think they've taken it too far.  I also question whether they realize that the values and bold statements of identity they're making are almost certainly going to change later in life. And I've certainly hit that "screw it" stage of life and what others think of me has much less power than it used to. But even though I'm far from delighted with the way my aging body looks these days,  I'm pretty sure that covering it with ink won't help. Rather, I'm working on coming to grips with the idea that maybe it's more important to accept that this is the normal and inevitable consequence of living.

Note: All photos of people's tattoos are from a Buzzfeed post by Alison Caporimo 

Reference Sources and More Information:

https://www.statista.com/statistics/721567/number-of-tattoos-united-states/

http://www.historyoftattoos.net/tattoo-facts/tattoo-statistics/

https://blog.marketresearch.com/tattoo-parlors-tattoo-removal-is-now-a-booming-3-billion-industry

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/03/06/science/tattoos-cells-laser-removal.html

https://www.livescience.com/14212-tattoo-laser-removal-popular.html

http://www.parscientific.com/InfinitInk.html 

https://www.npr.org/2014/02/21/280213268/job-seekers-still-have-to-hide-tattoos-from-the-neck-up

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/grandparents-and-retirees-get-tattoos-fulfilling-lifelong-dreams-and-raising-eyebrows/2013/09/21/b95a0e5c-219e-11e3-b73c-aab60bf735d0_story.html

https://www.buzzfeed.com/alisoncaporimo/24-reasons-to-never-get-a-tattoo

You Know You're A Geezer When....

Geezerhood can kind of sneak up on you, especially for those of us who have a tendency to be in denial. 

The Primo Geezer

So here are some tips that will help you recognize the symptoms.  If you nod in agreement with more than one or two, welcome to the club!!

Please add to the list by using the Comment option below, (you can do this anonymously if you wish) and if you're interested in further explorations into the vagaries of being "youth-challenged," see my Geezerhood collection of posts.  

• You and your pharmacist are on a first-name basis. 
  
• You get the senior discount without asking.
• People start to call you "Sir" (Geezers) or Ma'am (Geezerettes) or "Hon" (either).
• Competitive Complaining is the usual style of conversation among your circle of friends.
• People seem to want to carefully explain things to you, usually at a high volume level.
  
• Teenagers want to borrow your clothes for their "retro" parties.
• You don't recognize the names of any  current pop music artists.
• You see more doctors in one month than you used to see in ten years.
• The smell of coffee can keep you awake for days.
• People start offering you their seat on a bus, and sometimes have a concerned look on their face.
• You start getting offers in the mail for free hearing tests, supplemental insurance, and hemorrhoid creams.
• When you travel you carry a special satchel full of medications.
• At the TSA Security checkpoint the officer patronizingly asks if you have any metal implants -- and unfortunately you have to answer "yes."
• You can remember events from 20 years ago but not why you came into a room just now.
• Naps are no longer just nice, they're a necessity
• You know the name of the man in the photo above.
  

Me and My Guitar Part III: Audiophonic Fermentation (?)

Decades (!) after my first encounter with the guitar I couldn't play a single recognizable song (I had long since forgotten Kumbaya and Wayfarin' Stranger).  However, I could produce some pleasing sounds by noodling around and practicing my chords -- something that has eventually become extremely important, as I'll try to make clear.

My wife and I retired in 2000 and move moved to Hawai'i a year later. The guitar she had given to me 30 years earlier successfully made the trip with us.  However, somewhere in the discombobulation I lost my pitch pipe and with it the ability to keep the guitar in tune.  For a while this didn't matter too much, because (a) I was busy with many projects around our new house and didn't play much, and (b) I could keep the guitar acceptably close to being in tune just by ear.  My intent was to eventually buy a new pitch pipe but something always seemed to get in the way.  As months and years went by the guitar got more and more out of tune and my tuning-by-ear approach didn't work.  I played less and less.

A few years ago while hiking with a new snowbird friend I found out that he was an accomplished guitar player.  When I briefed him on my own interest and my current tuning problem, he offered to tune my guitar for me and also suggested I go online and buy a cheap electronic gizmo that would allow me to easily and accurately tune it myself.  At the time I had never heard of such a thing, but it turns out there are several different brands of these nifty little things, most of them less than $20.  They clip onto the guitar and register the frequency of the string that is vibrating, transforming it into a visual display that shows how close it is to a particular note. By watching the display as you turn the tuning knobs you can dial precisely the correct tension for each string.  Damn!  Not only is this gadget helpful for those of us who don't have perfect pitch, it also has many of the characteristics of a Geezer Techno-Toy -- it's cheap, has colored lights, involves sounds, and runs on batteries.  Sold! A few days later mine arrived in the mail and it has changed everything.

My Friend

For the first time ever I began playing regularly.  At first this was mainly rediscovering the basics and toughening up the fingertips of my left hand.  Most beginning guitar players have to go through the somewhat painful process of building up callouses that come from pressing down with your fingers on thin strings of metal or nylon.  Gradually I could play longer and longer without pain, but initially five or ten minutes was all I could take.  Today there doesn't seem to be a limit.

So what do I play?  This is where it gets a little weird.

As I've continued to "noodle around" I find I really like the melodies that emerge from sequences of chords that I seem to choose almost randomly.  Not only that, but I can now pluck individual notes within the chords -- something I've never done before -- and this adds interesting variation and complexity to the sound.  But the really weird part is that I'm doing this without really thinking about it or intentionally choosing the chord sequence or the notes.  I find myself just listening to what is being produced and being amazed at how pleasing it sounds.  If I start to focus on the mechanics of playing or on consciously trying to choose chords or notes, the whole thing goes sour and falls apart.

I don't know where this music comes from.  It certainly isn't from any natural talent that has ever been apparent before, nor is it the result of disciplined study and practice, as I'm sure I've made clear in recounting my saga.  As a crackpot pseudo-explanation I offer the term "audiophonic fermentation," an invented process whereby my brain has absorbed decades of visual and auditory encounters with guitar music and performance and somehow processed it into a potentiality for musical expression. (Wow, my knack for b.s. is still intact!).  Anyway, it is certainly enjoyable to be able to do something now that I couldn't do in my younger years, contrary to the usual Geezer trajectory of losing function.

Over time I've created a number of "structures" or "sequences" each with a different tonal quality and progression. I can choose to return to one of these, but once I begin to play the pattern takes on new nuances and embellishments that I don't plan nor consciously control.  An overly generous and limiting name for these structures would be "tunes" or "songs."  At present there are about a dozen of these, giving me a "repertoire" of roughly 40 minutes of music.

I should emphasize that this new-found skill is restricted to making stuff up -- I still can't play any well-known specific song, nor can I mimic a musical piece that I hear being performed by someone else.  However, what I invent does have a vague similarity to music I've listened to over the years,  and I can often detect the general influence of certain favorite performers and genres.  Maybe it's part of the "audiophonic fermentation" process -- my brain has extracted and distilled music I like down to different patterns of "potentialities" that are favored when I noodle around.

Some people have suggested that maybe this is the time to take lessons and develop my skill in a disciplined way, or that I try harder to perform known songs.  I'm not interested in doing either of these, at least for the time being.  For one thing, my childhood aversion to formal training has stuck with me.  A more palatable alternative is the rich trove of excellent instructional videos available now online, and I've sampled a number of them.  Although I get some good tips from these, I've found that attempting to copy the style or technique of the teacher leads to a degradation of my own.  I also don't have much interest in learning songs or tunes that other people might recognize because my current goal isn't to entertain other people -- it's a more selfish goal to explore a creativity I never knew I had.  If people like what I play, I am certainly appreciative.  But my main motivation is to produce new music that I enjoy.

It's also been suggested that I should buy a better guitar now that I'm taking it seriously. I've looked at a number of them and so far in every case decided that my old guitar sounds better.  It may be my pro-geezer bias operating, but I swear that my old Aria has a resonance and tone that the new ones don't have.  If I find one that is truly better, not just newer and more expensive, I might buy it.  But for now I'm following the example of Willie Nelson, who refuses to give up his 50-year old "Trigger" even though the sounding board is starting to look like Swiss cheese. [Take a look at this great video made by the man who is entrusted to care for Trigger, and also this one where Willie tells the story of Trigger.]

There are a few lessons from this 55-year saga.  First, never assume your abilities and limitations are fixed, nor that you even truly know what they are.  Processes we aren't aware of can lead to some very surprising developments in what you can and cannot do.  Second, conscious awareness isn't always necessary or even desirable for controlling behavior. There is an interplay or a balance between conscious and non-conscious control that can produce some astonishingly positive outcomes.  Finally, sometimes even very small things we do for other people can have dramatic effects on their lives. There are several examples of this in my guitar saga, but the most recent obvious ones are the impact of my friend's casual remark about electronic tuners and his spending 5 minutes to retune my guitar.  These small acts have opened up a whole new world of experience for me at just the right time in my life to me to greatly appreciate.  Me and my guitar are very thankful..... 

Me and My Guitar Part II: Kumbaya (Sort Of)

After my aborted introduction to playing a musical instrument (the accordion, aka "The Refrigerator") ended with my broken left wrist at around age 10 or 12,  for a number of years my only experience at playing music was "Chopsticks" and the first few bars of "Blue Moon" on available pianos. I frankly can't recall how or when I learned to play these, but their simplicity as well as the keyboard similarity to a concert accordion made it pretty easy to do.  However, although I like listening to piano music very much,  I never had any interest in playing it seriously.

Fast forward to college days.  A couple of my new friends played the guitar.  And not tunes like "Turkey in the Straw" that I had played on my accordion or "Chopsticks" on shared pianos, but songs by very popular folk performers of the time (the 60's) like The Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Joan Biaz, Pete Seiger, Judy Collins, The New Christy Minstrels (youngsters, please use Google to identify these people).  The guitar was an instrument that drew positive attention whenever it was played in a dorm room or at an informal gathering, and those who knew how to play it were admired and exuded "coolness."  This was way different (i.e., better) than the accordion and I wanted to learn to play it.

My friends taught me a few basic cords and strumming techniques on their guitars, and I would borrow an instrument to practice whenever I could.  But I couldn't afford to buy my own guitar and I never got beyond a very rudimentary level of playing.  My chord changes were slow, awkward, and sloppy.  I became aware that my left wrist had a permanent limitation that was probably the result of a lack of physical therapy after my childhood break (the expert therapy available today would undoubtedly have led to a better outcome).  This made certain chord positions very difficult for me and to this day they present special challenges to playing. Nevertheless, I was able to produce some pleasing sounds and even managed a halting rendition of a couple of cheesy songs -- "Kumbaya," and "Wayfarin' Stranger."  My informal lessons and playing sessions didn't get me very far in terms of mastering the guitar, but they showed me that it was possible to really enjoy playing a musical instrument -- something that had never happened with the accordion.

Aria AC-6, Age 50+

Fast forward past school days to the early 70's.  My wife bought me what has turned out to be one of the most enduring and impactful gifts ever -- my own guitar.  This was in 1972 or 1973, and I still have it today, almost 50 years later (!).  In those early days we were just starting out and didn't have a lot of money to spend on something like this, but nevertheless she got me a very good "entry-level" guitar -- an Aria AC-6 classical acoustic model that she bought with the advice of the owner of our local musical instrument store.  The Aria company is still in business, and their guitars generally get pretty good reviews. Mine has the advantage that age has given it a deep, mellow resonance that only comes from guitar geezerhood.

I'm afraid I didn't do my gift justice, however. I was fully absorbed in my career,  as well as working around our new house, and indulging our passion for travel. Guitar playing was not a high priority but I would occasionally get it out and try to recover what little skill I had achieved earlier.  I couldn't remember the chords to any tunes, but in trying to reproduce them I discovered that just noodling around and faking it could sound pretty good.  I also found that playing for playing's sake, without regard for looking "cool" or emulating a popular performer, was very satisfying.

If I would have had more time and commitment I might have approached learning the guitar in a more formal and structured way by taking lessons from someone.  However, my childhood experience with the accordion left me with an aversion to playing scales and practicing the same thing over and over.  Although this might have led to a higher level of proficiency than I have now, it is more likely the guitar would have joined my accordion in that great music store in the sky -- in the Used Instrument Section.

So, for the next 30 years my guitar and I had a sort of "companionable neglect" relationship.  Every once in a while I would get it out and together we would amiably explore my incompetence.  I always liked these sessions, though, and vowed at the end of each to do them more often -- but then didn't follow through.  Even after I retired it took another 15 years before I finally began to give my guitar playing a real chance to develop.  It has turned out to be one of the most positive aspects of my Geezerhood, but not in a way I could have predicted, as I'll try to explain next time.

Next up -- I discover why the guitar is often described as a very "personal" instrument.

Me and My Guitar Part 1: A Refrigerator & A Horizontal Landing

[Note:  This is the first in a 3-part series of autobiographical blogs about my unusual encounter with a guitar. The other installments will be available over irregular intervals.]

 

Let me tell you about my accordion, an instrument whose only commonality with a guitar is that they both make sounds. I know, this blog is about guitars and we'll get there eventually, trust me.  But first some context and background.

My parents lived through the Great Depression and WWII.  Their experiences of sacrifice and struggle led them to want the best for their children, particularly those things they themselves had been denied. They did everything within their modest means to enrich my childhood and those of my two sisters. This included the decision that we each should learn to play a musical instrument.

They might have chosen any number of things for me to play:  piano, violin, flute, guitar, drums, alto sax.  I'm not sure how they made the decision, but it wasn't any of those.

LOTS of buttons

The instrument selected for me was a concert-style accordion the size of a refrigerator.  I think I was about 10 at the time, and small for my age, so when I wrestled this thing onto my chest I pretty much disappeared except for my scrawny little arms poking out from the sides, and the top of my head sticking out over the top. You've probably seen examples of this kind of accordion -- a keyboard like a grand piano on the right front, and a grid of about 10,000 tiny buttons on the left which are played blind.  It was so heavy for me I had to play it sitting down, and my practice sessions were as much physical workouts as they were musical experiences.

As you can perhaps tell, I wasn't wildly enthusiastic about learning to play the accordion.  Definitely the best part was that I had a crush on my teacher, Miss Dardano, who gave me lessons each week at the music store where my parents had purchased the accordion.  Every Saturday I would board a bus a few blocks from my house for the 45-minute journey to the store.  I didn't take the accordion because it was way too heavy for me to transport, so I borrowed one at the store for my lesson. Miss Dardano was young and gorgeous, at least to my pre-pubescent eyes.  We were in a tiny recital room that brought us breathtakingly close together, though we were separated by the refrigerator in my lap. I felt uncomfortable in her presence but also thrilled.  I tried hard to live up to her expectations, and felt devastated when I didn't -- which was often the case.  Most lessons ended with her admonition to "practice harder next week."

The pinnacle of my musical prowess was learning to play the wonderfully catchy tune "Turkey in the Straw," which I played as part of a group performance with about 20 other budding accordion artists one Saturday.

My accordion-playing career came to a sudden and welcome-though-painful end one summer when I broke my left wrist while playing with neighborhood kids.  I had been trying a simple trick on a high bar and my dismount ended with a horizontal landing. The wrist had to be reset halfway through the healing process, resulting in it being in a cast nearly the entire summer and becoming extremely atrophied.  It became clear to my parents that this ruled out wrestling with a heavy musical instrument for a long time.  The accordion was sold sometime that fall and no more mention of music lessons was made.

I was relieved. Although I certainly had positive feelings for Miss Dardano,  I never developed much fondness for my refrigerator, and playing Turkey in the Straw for my friends didn't exactly put me on the fast track to popularity.  As I look back on it now, however, there were several very positive aspects of my experience.  First, I learned to read music, an exercise that has made me appreciate that written music is a remarkable human development that enables us to transform the wonders of sound into squiggles of ink.  I also gained a deep appreciation for what good musicians are able to do, and I marvel at the level of mastery some of them have achieved with their instruments. My hours of practice to reach even the pitiful level that I managed to achieve makes me profoundly in awe of those who have combined hard work with natural talent to enable them to produce sounds that evoke emotional and cognitive states that can enrich our lives in unquestionably profound ways.  Finally, I think I unconsciously acquired something hard to put into words -- a seed of intuition about how harmonic structure and progression can be combined creatively to produce music that can be entertaining, as perhaps in the case of "Turkey in the Straw,"  but also music that is intensely personal, as I've recently discovered with my guitar.

Next:  Dick meets guitar.

Suggested Reading:
Robert Persig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, first published in 1974. 

A Geezer's Advice To Young Travelers

Back in MY day we.......No, wait. Sorry, I got ahead of myself, which seems easy to do these days.

First, I should assure readers that I really don't expect you to follow the advice I'm about to give -- the best I can hope for is that you will consider the relevance and suitability of some of my observations distilled from 45 years (really, 45?) of international travel. Second, I should clarify that by "young" I don't mean children, but rather anyone old enough to travel on their own (that includes older "young-at-heart" types who haven't done much traveling but now have the time and inclination). Third, I want to pre-apologize to anyone I may offend with observations that seem to criticize the way you choose to travel. But hey, this is my blog, and of course, I'm right...

Okay, if anyone is still reading, here's a bit of background.  My wife and I have been traveling internationally since shortly after we got married. We were youngsters back then, and although neither of us had traveled much out of the country we made a joint decision that this was something we wanted to do very much. We were fortunate during our working years to have careers that allowed us time during the summer months to travel (we were both in education).  We didn't have children and this made it much easier to travel, especially in the early days. The only thing we didn't have was a lot of money, a factor that didn't stop us from traveling but certainly dictated how we did it.

Now a bit of history for context. Our travels began in what will seem to young'ns as the dark ages.  There was no WWW.  The internet existed, but just barely -- it began in 1969.  There were no cell phones. No laptops. In fact, no truly personal computers of any kind until the mid- to late 70's. Travel arrangements were made through somebody called a "Travel Agent" or done on the fly using guidebooks for recommendations or through a local tourist office in each foreign town or city who would help you find accommodations and give you information. Not many people in foreign countries spoke English so it was often necessary to learn a little of the local language so that you could ask for directions, inquire about an available room, find a toilet, avoid liver.  Airplane tickets were actually made of paper and had to be guarded very carefully because without them you couldn't even check in.  If they were lost or stolen replacing them was a time-consuming and onerous process.  Very few merchants accepted credit cards, and there were almost no ATMs. You traveled armed with a bunch of "traveler's checks," which you bought at a U.S. bank before leaving. To change money you had to go to a foreign bank or professional money changer and exchange them for local currency. If you ran out of money --- well, you ran out of money. There was no easy way to get more.
 
In short, these were the days when travel was truly an adventure. Over the years things have changed remarkably, and today travel is considerably easier.  That's not necessarily a good thing in my opinion, because when something is easy we all have a tendency to take it for granted and lose sight of its beneficial qualities. As you will now see, much of my advice is tempered by this conviction.

Here goes.

Do It NOW
 
I know, you're young and you'll have plenty of time to enjoy traveling later.  Plus, you're vigorous and invincible and will never develop physical ailments or mental impairments that will limit where you go and what you do. Please, please believe me when I tell you from experience that you are woefully ignoring reality -- see the 15 blogs in my Geezerhood series for documentation. In the blink of an eye you will find that your mind is willing but your body no longer seems to be listening to your brain.

In our travels my wife and I distinguish between two kinds of trips: those undertaken for relaxation and rejuvenation (aka slug-imitation sojourns), and those meant to truly explore a destination and to experience its culture, history, geology, art, architecture, etc.  A third type that we haven't done much ourselves but is growing in popularity is "sport" or "adventure travel."  The goal here isn't so much to appreciate culture or history as it is to enjoy the unique geology and geography of a destination while indulging in sports activities like golf, skiing, diving, trekking, or maybe hanging by your fingernails from a cliff. The first type is easy and can be done well into advanced Geezerhood. The second and third can be physically and mentally challenging, particularly in exotic locales where infrastructure requires daily sacrifices in comfort, food is sometimes unfriendly to an American's delicate system (see A Traveler's Tales of Tummy Troubles), and where many of the most magnificent and rewarding sights require considerable physical exertion and stamina. The usual accompaniments to Geezerhood -- bad joints, COPD, mental fuzziness, and issues of balance and flexibility -- can make these kinds of travel increasingly difficult. My wife and I have been trying to visit the most challenging destinations while we still can, and we strongly recommend you consider this "carpe diem" approach also. But no matter what your travel objective is, start now. You will acquire coping skills and a tolerant attitude that will serve you well later.

An additional reason for not procrastinating comes from our personal experience in a number of "currently-exotic-and-out-of-the-way-but-soon-to-be-overrun-with-hoards-of-tourists" places. If you wait too long the character and essential uniqueness of many destinations will be less than it is now, the inevitable result of mass tourism's influence on infrastructure, economy, and local attitudes toward visitors. A variant of this which we have also experienced is that natural disasters, political instability and religious extremism may suddenly make it impossible to visit certain places. For instance, we were in Syria just before the current turmoil there and it was one of the most interesting and enjoyable trips we have ever taken (see, "The Benefits of Dangerous Travel").  Now, however many of the fabulous archeological treasures in Syria and even some of the cities have been destroyed by violent conflict.  We feel fortunate and privileged to have experienced these things before this happened.

Do It OFTEN

There are a lot of places in the world worth exploring.
Life is too short to see them all.
Keep your butt moving if you want to enrich your life as much as you can in the time that you have.

Do It SLOOOOW

This may seem like a contradiction to what I just said, but it really isn't.  If you approach travel with the idea that you are going to do it often then it isn't necessary to plan a trip to see 30 countries in 2 weeks -- an exhausting, numbing experience that is pretty much a waste of time and money, IMHO. I remember sitting in a European restaurant where I overheard a dinner conversation among some American travelers on a blitzkrieg tour of all of Europe.  One was having trouble recalling a sight the group had visited the day before and had to ask his fellow travelers, "Now, what's the name of that country we were in yesterday?"  How enriching can travel be if you don't know where you've been?

My wife and I have tried to restrict our trips to fairly small geographic areas -- one country or a small region -- and we try to spend as much time as we can there. In our case we have been fortunate that our 9-month teaching contracts allowed us to devote a month or more to each trip. But even for those of you with less time to spend, our advice is to narrow your focus -- you will have a much deeper and more meaningful experience. As you go, pay attention to details that are often missed if you are zipping through on the way to the next thing on the itinerary.  By details I mean architectural features, artistic nuances, small aspects of flora and fauna, and especially details of the way locals are living their lives and interacting with each other and with you.

By the way, when we tell people we are going to spend a month in, say Laos or South Africa or Argentina, many seem amazed that we could stand traveling that long. Not only can we "stand" it, we have sometimes regretted the end of the trip and wish we had more time to spend.  I think this may be the result of our years of experience tolerating the inconveniences of travel, and finding that the inconveniences are a small price to pay for the privilege of enjoying experiences only travel can allow.

Do It With VARIETY

Okay, this is where I may step on some toes. The fact is that there are many ways to travel these days, and they differ markedly in the quality and depth of the experience they provide. I have pretty strong opinions about some of them, as you will see, but my overall advice is that if you are serious about travel for enrichment then you should employ a variety of travel methods not just stick with one.  Here are some thoughts:

• Group Tours:  I really don't like group tours. Yet despite what I believe are significant shortcomings in this form of travel there have been about a dozen times (even recently) over my 45 years of traveling when this seemed the best approach, usually when the local infrastructure and social conditions would make it extremely difficult, uncomfortable, time-consuming, or perhaps unsafe to do otherwise.  However, I find that it is easy to greatly overestimate the difficulty and danger of non-group travel, so the decision to use a group tour requires careful consideration of why a tour is advisable in this particular instance -- something many travelers prefer not to do.  Indeed, the seeming advantage of tours is that all the planning and decision-making is done for you, and once you arrive everything is taken care of.  But this feature is also a flaw of group tours -- they require very little active involvement, cognitive investment, or problem solving.  This passivity can lead to a somewhat shallow and unmemorable experience of the destination and its culture (remember the case of the oblivious American group tourist I mentioned previously who didn't even know where he had been).  A second shortcoming of group tours in my opinion is another feature that I acknowledge many people find to be positive.  Groups invariably lead to social interaction focused within the group.  For example, I recall traveling in Vietnam with some very interesting and sociable fellow travelers.  One day our bus was going through a picturesque agricultural area where locals were busy planting rice, a fascinating and uniquely characteristic sight.  However, almost nobody on the bus was looking out at the scene because they were engrossed in conversations with each other.  To the extent that "groupiness" distracts travelers from appreciating the noteworthy qualities of the culture they are visiting, it is a negative feature of this form of travel, albeit enjoyable. Finally, while it is certainly true that group tours are efficient and you will see a lot, please consider that a jam-packed itinerary doesn't necessarily mean you will have an in-depth exposure to a culture and its people. The best tour companies try to counteract superficiality by deliberately including interactions with local people -- certainly a laudable effort.  But keep in mind that these encounters are hand-picked and structured by someone else and therefore aren't necessarily representative of what you would experience on your own. I have many other criticisms of group touring, but I'll stop with the advice that you not rely on it exclusively, but instead consider other modes of travel as well.  

• Cruising: In certain circumstances cruise ships offer an excellent perspective from which to enjoy unique geography and geology, and a good way to visit places difficult to reach by other means (Antarctica, South Pacific, River passages, Greek Islands). They are certainly a convenient, comfortable, and fairly affordable way of traveling, especially for families, solo travelers, and those who are mobility challenged. I'm not convinced, however, that they are a good way to truly come into contact with a culture and its people. Most cruise ports are quite unrepresentative of a country, and a day in port seems unlikely to offer more than a quick superficial introduction. Staying onboard offers cushy accommodations and amenities that are, of course, the same for the entire trip -- a plus for cruise-lovers because they don't have to pack and unpack many times.  For me this is a real detraction, however, because over the years my wife and I have stayed in a wide range of wonderful small inns and hotels, often in extraordinarily picturesque places, that offer quite a bit more character and history than a ship's stateroom. They also afford the opportunity for casual interactions with local people that are missing on a cruise. A final objection is that when thousands of boat people descend on a particular destination, particularly a small one, it can greatly distort the true nature of the place. For example, my wife and I stayed several days on the Greek island of Santorini, having arrived there by regularly scheduled ferry service. This is a lovely place that people who visit by cruise ship usually rave about.  We watched each morning as several large ships would enter the harbor and disgorge thousands of people who then drifted shoulder-to-shoulder through the tiny cliff-side port town, shopping, photographing, and perhaps having lunch before returning in the late afternoon to their boats. As much as the passengers may have enjoyed Santorini, I can assure you it was far more pleasant after they were gone.  The merchants relaxed and were more friendly and less aggressive, the restaurants emptied out and offered spectacular sunset views of the departing ships, and the warm evenings were a delightful time to slowly explore the town.

• Independent Travel:  This category includes three major variants.  All three have become easier to arrange in recent years thanks to the internet.  The first is the old familiar winging-it-on-your-own-as-you-go style that definitely requires a lot of effort, problem-solving, and a high tolerance for uncertainty.  I'm too old for that kind of travel anymore.  The second is more structured but still allows for flexibility and requires some degree of on-the-fly decision-making and coping with challenges.  In this case you plan an itinerary around your own interests and preferences by studying guidebooks, tour itineraries, and online discussion forums.  You then make your own arrangements online for accommodations, transportation, and even local tours (again, by consulting and vetting various sources of information).  This is by far our preferred mode of travel.  It requires considerable advanced effort, but as I've tried to suggest above, this active involvement in planning a trip makes it more meaningful and memorable.  The third kind of independent travel is increasingly available in recent years and is attractive if you want some degree of choice in making your own itinerary but would rather leave decisions about hotels, activities, transportation, etc. to a professional.  In many parts of the world this is not nearly as pricey as you might expect. Companies that specialize in this kind of travel consult with you online about your interests and preferences, then put together an itinerary for you which you can then modify further. The price depends on the level of accommodations you have chosen, the length of the trip, and the number of included activities. All three of these variations have the advantage of bringing you into maximum contact with local culture while also providing opportunities for appreciating the art, history, architecture, and natural attractions of a destination. 

Ok, that's it.  I have lots of other tips but I'm sure I've outstripped your patience already.  No matter what manner of travel you choose or what combinations you select, I truly hope you find travel as rewarding and enriching as I have. I think that seeing the world first-hand is far superior to experiencing it any other way, and provides a more balanced and complex view of the world than that which is filtered through other people's attitudes and agendas. Above all,  the personal encounters that travel can provide will very likely change you for the better.  And may even give you a unique opportunity to have a positive impact on other people's lives as well....

Happy travels!

"Geezer Grease:" My Missed Opportunity to Make Bazillions

“It's paradoxical that the idea of living a long life 

appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn't appeal to anyone.”

― Andy Rooney

One of my least favorite parts of advancing into Geezerhood has been nature's insistence on making me pay for past indiscretions in the way I mistreated my body.  For instance, in younger years it was quite the thing for those of us with white skin to deliberately burn it and try to turn it into the ideal "tan."   We applied "sun tan lotion" not "sun screen" or "sun block" because the hope was that it would promote quicker, darker tanning not prevent it.  SPF 4 was about the highest I recall using. Plus, I grew up in Colorado, where sunny skies, low humidity and high elevations guaranteed a massive dose of UV rays.

Well, those years of exposure have now resulted in many nasty little pre-cancerous thingies on my forehead that require special treatments and regular visits to my dermatologist, whom I have on speed dial. I've undergone exotic-sounding procedures in an attempt to stave off worse developments, like "liquid nitrogen thermal destruction," "microdermal abrasion" and "photodynamic therapy," and I have an arsenal of lotions and potions that I apply daily.  And of course I don't set foot out of the house without SPF 50 and my broad-brimmed dufus hat (aka "Geezerware").*

My childhood solar epidermal abuse has also led to skin that is irritatingly delicate and prone to injury.  The most irksome form of this for me is that my forearms bruise so easily that often I can't recall the source.  And when I am aware of the cause, I have watched helplessly as bruising from even the smallest bump or scratch spreads like purple watercolor on wet paper and develops into a hideous, leprosy-like discoloration that lasts 10 days, minimum.  Unlike the precancerous thingies, the bruising and bleeding aren't life-threatening, but they do a real number on my vanity because they symbolically shout "OLD MAN WALKING HERE!!!!"  Along with "age spots" these bruises are almost guaranteed to get you the senior discount at your local retailer without even asking.

I've quizzed my dermatologist repeatedly to see if there is any preventative treatment for my susceptibility to bruising, and barring that some ameliorative cream, pill, or injection. The answer is always "No," delivered with a sympathetic but somewhat patronizing smile (she's a young'n, after all).  Indeed, the current scientific consensus seems to be that this condition is a common aspect of normal aging (assuming more serious causes have been ruled out) that comes from losing some of the protective fatty layer in the skin that protects the blood vessels -- we literally become "thin-skinned" as we get older -- and my dermatologist argues that this process is accelerated by sun exposure -- those who abused their skin when young are likely to be even more susceptible to losing the fatty layer.  Although there are many pseudoscientific-homeopathic-biodynamic-synergistic-astromagnetic-universallifeforceallaroundus remedies available for sale, there is very little hard evidence they do much except bleed your wallet**

The authoritative Mayo Clinic puts it this way:

"Most bruises form when small blood vessels (capillaries) near the skin's surface are broken by the impact of a blow or injury — often on the arms or legs. When this happens, blood leaks out of the vessels and initially appears as a black-and-blue mark... As you get older, your skin also becomes thinner and loses some of the protective fatty layer that helps cushion your blood vessels from injury." [my emphasis]

And to make this even more depressing, the Mayo Clinic says that

 "Once a bruise has formed...not much can be done to treat it. Most bruises eventually disappear as your body reabsorbs the blood — although healing might take longer as you age [my emphasis]. It might help to elevate the affected area and apply ice. If the sight of a bruise bothers you, cover it with clothing or makeup."

Thanks, doc. I should put ice packs on my bruises and walk around with my arms held in the air, while wearing a long-sleeved shirt in Hawai'i?  That's all you got?  If we can send rockets to distant comets and develop nanobots that can deliver drugs to specific tissues in the body, surely we can come up with something better than that.

I was recently discussing this with some fellow geezers (well, one was a soon-to-be geezer still in denial).  We had just been hiking and had the cuts and bruises to prove it.  Over much-needed beer we engaged in some "competitive complaining" (see my blog "Geezer Olympics") about bruising and other skin problems but then started talking more productively about possible preventive measures.  Of course much of what came out was "alchological," meaning it makes much more sense when you are under the influence of alcohol. So have a couple of shots before reading on.

In particular, we concluded that what the world's geezers need most is a special transparent cream that contains (a) nanoparticles that form a thin, flexible, protective shield on the skin, maybe like the new kinds of body armor that rely on nano technology (see Discovery, 4/2/13),  (b) a highly concentrated antioxidant of some kind (c) super sun block of at least SPF 100,  (d) a broad spectrum antibiotic just in case (a) doesn't work completely, and (e) moisturizers and various beautification agents (why not?).  Of course, for vanity's sake this wonder-cream would be completely invisible on the skin.  Lather up with it before your morning coffee and voila!  No more bruises!

We could market this stuff and make bazillions!!! ("How about another beer?")  A name. We need a name for our product.  Something that our intended market would immediately identify with and rush out to buy.  I've got it!  How about "GEEZER GREASE?" 

The next day the practicality of our idea seemed to have faded considerably. Still, it was a very appealing notion even if a bit fantastical.  The name in particular had a nice ring to it.  Then, just for the heck of it I Googled "geezer grease," not really expecting any results.

Wrong.

Mill Creek Catalog

Turns out someone has beaten us to the name and is already using it for a skin balm. Their grease doesn't have any nanoparticles, but it does include an interesting ingredient we hadn't thought of ---- Cannabis.  Yup, a pot-infused ointment to "cure" your skin troubles (or at least make it so you don't care as much).  The product is sold at a couple of outlets, including Mill Creek Natural Foods  and Green Stop Cannibis.  Mill Creek is especially enticing in their description: "When you need serious natural skin care for dry, itchy or chapped hands, feet, elbows, or to help with minor scratches, excellent on small cuts. This rich blend will feel so smooth and soothing...just a tiny amount is all you need. Hand blended with extra virgin olive oil, cannabis, calendula blossoms, comfrey root, goldenseal, vitamin E, rosehips & beeswax." [my emphasis].

Well, we missed our opportunity to make bazillions of dollars by ourselves, but maybe we could join forces with the cannabis company and come up with a new product that combines both sets of ingredients.  We could call it "Super Geezer Whoopee Grease."

_________________
*My apologies to those of you who (a) look good in broad-brimmed hats, (b) think you do, and (c) those who don't but aren't vain like me and feel sun protection is more important than looking good.  I, however, am vain and know I look like a dufus in most hats, particularly those with a broad brim.

**There are a few products that may have some small degree of protective or ameliorative effects but have mainly anecdotal evidence or inconsistent scientific support.  Retinol, proven to stimulate collagen production and reduce fine face wrinkle might work on forearms by improving the supportive structure of the skin.  Alpha-hydroxy compounds which promote exfoliation and new skin growth on the face may also work on arms, but this has never been shown scientifically.  Arnica, a substance derived from aloe, has weak and inconsistent data supporting its efficacy in speeding healing of bruises.  Oh, and a method sure to work is the use of forearm guards, or chaps --a real geezer fashion statement.
_________________

Other Offerings in the Geezerhood Series:
Geezer Olympics: Competitive Complaining
Geezerhood Can Suck
Taste Buds Are Wasted On The Young!
Don't Go To Your 50th High School Reunion!
Decision Making in Geezerhood
Why Is That Geezer Smiling?
Jogging the Memory of a Geezer
How to Compress Your Morbidity
Embracing Your Inner Geezer
So, What Do You DO All Day??
The Power of Negative Thinking

Dying to Know Why We Die?

Dying to Know Why We Die?

First, an important disclaimer.  This is NOT a discussion of deeply religious or philosophical questions, like do we really die when our bodies give out?  I'll just note that physical aging and death is something most of us are quite ambivalent about. We acknowledge it will happen eventually, but we view it as something terrifyingly unnatural and maybe, just maybe, it can be escaped somehow -- if not physically then through some philosophical or religious mechanism. But notions like the immortality of the soul, kharmic continuation, and unembodied consciousness assimilation will be left for another time, maybe to be discussed over several pints of good beer.

My focus is more down to earth (so to speak) -- why do our bodies get old and die? Why is death inevitable?  Why, exactly do we die?  As difficult as these questions may seem, there has been some rather impressive progress in the last few decades in answering them from a scientific perspective. However, before examining the most current thinking on aging and dying that has come from the scientific study of aging processes let's consider some more informal notions that I've heard friends express, and my own pet theory of death which I acknowledge in advance as being quite preposterous.

Crackpot Theories of Aging: Fine Wine, Black Holes, Leaky Buckets and Heartbeat Banks

Unencumbered by the scientific requirements of reliable evidence, logical consistency, and demonstrated generalizability, people naturally come up with their own explanations of any phenomenon, judging them as acceptable mainly if they meet the "sounds-good-to-me" test.  Generally these explanations rely heavily on reasoning by analogy ("it's like....").  Some are more sophisticated, resting the analysis on some kernel of scientific truth and then distorting and overextending the principles to make unwarranted assertions.  Naturally, I favor the second, pseudo-scientific type.

An example of the "It's like...." category is the Fine Wine Theory.  Aging is like producing fine wine -- at first the wine is young, strong, and rather too sharp and unruly on the tongue, but then as it ages through natural chemical processes it becomes better and better, developing complexity, sophistication and substance.  However, after a certain point all wine goes bad, and the chemical processes finally lead to its destruction, leaving only foul-tasting vinegar. I suspect geezers from California favor this explanation because it can justify a "drink-the-wine-while-there's-still-time" lifestyle.

A sub-category of the analogy type of theory are those that are based on the idea that life is determined by some sort of finite resource that is slowly depleted until it's gone.  The Leaky Bucket Theory is an example, and the name says it all -- we're born with full buckets of vital essence but they have holes that slowly drain the life force until...well, you know. The Heartbeat Bank is a variation on this that years ago a friend suggested to me.  His idea was that we're each born with a certain number of heartbeats to our "account"  and when they're used up our accounts are closed, along with the lid to our casket.  This idea has great appeal to couch potatoes who can argue that they are simply being frugal with their heartbeats. To them athletes are squandering their allotment and will probably die an early death.  Notice how unencumbered this one is with the mountain of evidence that has now accumulated indicating just the opposite is true -- exercise lengthens life and shortens morbidity (see my earlier blog, "How To Compress Your Morbidity").

My own pet theory is an example of the pseudo-scientific category of lay theories.  These generally sound authoritative but if examined closely they are empirically unsupported and in my case, logically absurd.  My theory is that we are each born with an accompanying teensy black hole that follows us throughout our lifetimes, getting bigger and more powerful with each passing day.  Being tuned to our personal electromagnetic auras it begins to entrap our belongings, our bodies, our energy, and finally our entire life force, though things can temporarily escape back into our realm until the final total crossing of the event horizon. Note that this theory satisfactorily explains the common geezer experience of objects blinking in and out of existence. You know, those car keys, cell phone, t.v. remote, hat, tool, false teeth, etc. that suddenly disappear -- only to reappear some time later in the exact same spot you had looked ten times.  What else could it be??

Serious and Scientific Theories of Aging and Death

Needless to say, my Black Hole theory didn't entirely satisfy my desire for an authoritative explanation of aging and death.  In my search for something more intellectually and scientifically substantive, the best source of up-to-date, readable, and thorough information that I found is presented by the American Federation for Aging Research (AFAR) and in particular their InfoAging Guide on Theories of Aging, published in 2011.  I highly recommend it.  Another excellent source is a 2010 special issue of the journal Aging and Disease, in particular the introduction by Kulin Jin.

The AFAR guide makes the distinction between theories of why we age, which are generally broad and overarching explanations, and more specific hypotheses about how we age, which are proposals about the particular mechanisms and processes of aging.  Theories about why we age tend to be mutually exclusive and contradictory, suggesting that not all of them can be true, whereas particular hypotheses about mechanisms of aging do not necessarily conflict and a number of these might be simultaneously correct.

Research regarding hypotheses of aging mechanisms has yielded a great deal of substantive knowledge on ways to slow aging and even prevent certain destructive processes altogether.  The following hypotheses have received at least some empirical support and consequently enough media coverage that they may be familiar:

• Free Radicals Bad, Anti-Oxidants Good.  Free radicals are destructive by-products of normal cellular activity and when we are young our bodies produce substances called anti-oxidants which repair most of the damage caused by free-radicals.  With age more damage accumulates, however, eventually destroying cells altogether.  Diet fads for increasing our intake of anti-oxidants were based on early research that suggested food high in these substances increased the longevity of laboratory animals.  Unfortunately more recent experiments "...have not yeilded conclusive results..." and experiments "...attempting to reverse the effects of oxidative damage by feeding experimental animals dietary antioxidants...have not yielded conclusive results" (AFAR -- see also Guide to Oxidative Damage and Aging).  Still, high-anti-oxidant foods include chocolate and red wine, so why not cover your bases, right?
• Your DNA dipstick is getting shorter and shorter. Called by scientists the Replicative Senescence Hypothesis, the idea here is that with each cell division, the protective caps on chromosomes, called telomeres, get shorter and shorter until the cell can no longer divide.  It isn't dead, but can no longer contribute to renewing the organ of which it is a part.  Although an important factor in aging, the telomere hypothesis has shortcomings as an overall theory because not all cells divide (e.g, neurons and heart muscle), and not all organisms have cells that replicate enough to produce senescence. 
• Starve yourself into immortality. Called the Caloric Restriction Hypothesis, the idea is that by reducing excess calories burned, less oxidation damage occurs. The operative word here is "excess" because experimental findings indicate that caloric restriction in which laboratory animals are maintained on balanced diets with 30-40% fewer calories doesn't change metabolic rate, but reliably increases their life span and "...retards almost all of the age-related changes mice normally undergo, including the onset of age-related diseases" (AFAR).  There's just one teensy little problem: "Rodents maintained on calorically restricted diets are thin, cold, stunted, and sometimes sterile. It is likely that such animals, although they survive to a ripe old age in the laboratory, would never stand a chance in the wild."  This makes immortality a lot less attractive to me, thank you.
• It's all in your genes: There has been encouraging research showing that altering certain genes of organisms can increase longevity.  For example, genetic alterations that reduce the amount of the growth hormone IGF-1 can extend the lives of mice, and alteration of one specific gene in the roundworm species, C. elegans, can significantly extend its lifespan. It is tempting to interpret this as evidence that aging is a programmed process that differs in timing from individual to individual because of variations in genetic expression and that genetic alteration holds the key to successfully extending our lives.  However, it's not so simple or rosy a picture as it seems.  Those genetically altered mice live a long time but are sterile and inactive, and the long-lived roundworms exhibit defects such as "...reduced ability to enter a protective dauer stage (a developmental state in which worm larvae can better survive harsh conditions), delayed development, and impaired reproduction" (AFAR). Finally, a recent Stanford University study in which the genomes of very long-lived humans were mapped failed to find any "longevity gene" that set them apart. According to one of the scientists who conducted the study, Stuart Kim, this means the genetic effect on aging "must be complex."

Note that many of these findings have a common element -- interventions that seem to prolong life do so at a cost to the organism's overall health and in particular to its reproductive ability. This means that its genes have less likelihood of being passed on compared to those of healthier yet shorter-lived individuals -- natural selection seems to have favored cellular processes that lead to declining health in older individuals and thereby to finite lifetimes.  According to AFAR, "...it is likely that tinkering with genes to improve late-life fitness could have a detrimental effect on health at younger ages." And as long as the detrimental effects do not prevent reproductive success, they could be passed on to future generations -- definitely a bad thing.

The most widely accepted overall theory of why we age and die is based on these principles of adaptation and selection.  Called the Evolutionary Senescence Theory of aging, the central premise is that "...Natural selection, because it operates via reproduction, can have little effect on later life. In the wild, predation and accidents guarantee that there are always more younger individuals reproducing than older ones. Genes and mutations that have harmful effects but appear only after reproduction is over do not affect reproductive success and therefore can be passed on to future generations"  (AFAR).  Not only that, evidence now indicates that certain genetic traits may have positive effects when we are young but are actually harmful in later years.  An example is gene p53, a gene that directs damaged cells to stop reproducing or die. This helps prevent cancerous growths in younger people, but may contribute to aging and death by impairing the body’s ability to renew deteriorating tissues as we get old..

The Evolutionary Senescence Theory is supported by considerable research and although it continues to be tested and refined, it remains the best explanation for why all organisms age and die. It also makes clear the care with which we should approach genetic modifications intended to make us live longer. 

Geezerhood, Ho!

Geezer Olympics: Competitive Complaining

[Note: Yes, this is yet another blog in my Geezerhood series. I usually advise younger readers to go amuse themselves in some other way, but in this case they might find the topic pertinent.]

My blog on "Geezerhood Can Suck" got a lot of responses, including one from a long-time friend who expressed sympathy but then said he was refraining from commenting further in order to avoid "competitive complaining."  Thanks, D.P. for stimulating this little essay.

Well, my warped sense of humor was immediately tickled by the phrase "competitive complaining."  I then did what any red-blooded fading intellectual would do.  I Googled it.

Yup, there at the top of the results were links to two pages with that exact phrase.  Both of them were blogs by university students -- one at Tufts and the other at Carnegie Mellon.  The one by the Tufts blogger illustrated the phenomenon particularly well with a made-up conversation between several students approaching exam week (Student D obviously wins):

Student A: “This weekend is going to be absolute hell. I have an econ problem set and two papers to write.”
Student B: "Ugh, I know. I have three research papers and it’s gonna take hours to finish all the programming I have to do.”
Student C: “Whatever, at least your thesis isn’t due in like, three days.”
Student D: ”Oh yeah? Well four of my professors decided to schedule their finals five days in advance. Plus I have eight theses underway, I have to translate three Chinese novels into Swahili, and I’m performing in the Mongolian Culture Show for peace in the Middle East...."

This is clearly a negative version of conversational one-upsmanship where each participant tries to outdo the others in a strategy of "bet-you-can't-top-this!"  It's also an illustration of the social psychological phenomenon of Impression Management in which we attempt to control the attributions others make of us.  Note that in the example above, the students have prepared others (and maybe themselves) to attribute their potentially poor academic performance to external circumstances rather than to low ability, bad time management, or perhaps to a lack of willpower when it comes to beer and partying. Of course this only works if the obstacles listed are plausible and not under control of the student giving them.  Student D's litany of difficulties walks a fine line between the two but does so magnificently.  Note that D has covered his/her bases very well -- a bad performance can be explained away as not the student's fault, and a good performance will suggest superior capabilities because it was achieved in the face of tremendous challenges.

As I read these two blogs by the university students I began to realize that competitive complaining is hardly the sole provenance of young people --  it also characterizes a lot of the conversations I have with other Geezers.  In fact, I'd say Geezers can complain rings around these young whippersnappers and would easily win in any competitive complaining contest. The young'ns are mere novices in this sport and getting to our Olympic level of performance will require lots more training -- years' worth, I'd say.  We Geezers have also perfected a number of specialized forms of competitive complaining, like "Prescription-Pill-Problem Parrying," "Frugality Fencing," "Travel-Woe Takedown," and the ever-popular "Politician Pummeling."

There are at least three reasons for our superior complaining ability.  First we have been doing it for a long, long time. And as they say, "practice makes perfect."  Second, we have way more serious things to complain about, like diseases, surgeries, and how inconsiderate our adult children are.

Third, we have personal historical perspectives on a very broad range of topics that give us a rich repertoire of complaints.  For example, a twenty-something complaining to a Geezer about the current state of the economy or the level of violent conflict in the world today will be buried by the Geezer's recollection of past personal experiences of depressions, recessions, and wars -- no contest at all.  And of course the coup de gras is the Geezer's comparison of each contestant's future time-line, a technique guaranteed to elicit sympathy and a concession of defeat:  "Ah, well you're young and have plenty of time to see things turn around and get your life in order.  Me?  Well..., you know how it is.  I doubt I'll live long enough to see things get much better...."  Top that, whippersnapper!

I've also been in conversations where competitive complaining has made attributions for a Geezer's positive performance even more positive, though these are less common.  Imagine the following exchange among Geezers at the gym:

A:  "Hey Guys, how's it going?  Haven't seen you for a long time. I pulled a leg muscle and haven't been working out much lately."
Geezer B:  "Oh, well I've been forcing myself to come even though I'm recuperating from my knee replacements.  Gotta do all that painful physical therapy, you know?"
Geezer C:  "Oh, boy do I.  I had both knees done, three toes amputated, a pin put in my ankle, and a hip replaced last summer.  Really slowed me down in the Fall when the wife and I scaled Kilimanjaro, hiked the Inca Trail, and trekked to Everest base camp." 

Geezers A and B have not only lost the competitive complaining contest, they are probably thinking Geezer C is some kind of Superman, which of course is C's ego-boosting payoff.  (Indeed, if he really did those things, I'd say he is.)

Don't get me wrong.  I acknowledge that Geezers have legitimate complaints about a range of difficulties that face them, particularly those involving health and finances.  But I think that competitive complaining in a group conversation may be serving functions for Geezers that are similar to those for the young university students approaching exam week described above.  By focusing on obstacles and issues that are not under our control, we Geezers prepare others to attribute our limitations and degraded performance to those factors, rather than to our lack of effort, unhealthy diet or slovenly habits.  For Geezers, competitive complaining establishes a public basis for pardoning our failure to take responsibility for doing what we can, despite the challenges of aging. Although this may be effective in managing the impression others have of us, it can be also be very dysfunctional to the extent we come to believe our own excuses -- see my blog on The Power of Negative Thinking. The irony of competitive complaining is that it may be self-fulfilling -- we may unwittingly worsen the problems about which we are complaining.

And of course the irony of this blog is that I'm complaining about competitive complaining.  Hmmm.  I may have just invented a new form of the game: "Meta-Competitive Complaining," or competitive complaining about competitive complaining.  Top that!!
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The Geezerhood Series so far:

Geezerhood Can Suck
Embracing Your Inner Geezer
How to Compress Your Morbidity
The Power of Negative Thinking
Thoughts for a New Year
So, What Do You Do All Day?
Jogging the Memory of a Geezer
Decision Making In Geezerhood
Don't Go To Your 50th High School Reunion!
Taste Buds Are Wasted On The Young!

Geezerhood Can Suck

[Note:  This is another blog in my Geezerhood series.  Younger readers or those still in denial might just bookmark this for future reading and go do something more fun, like doing a SnapChat or Tweeting something. Also, please be advised that the content below might be regarded as "TMI" or "over-sharing"].

I've written several times about my journey through Geezerhood, often putting the emphasis on the positive aspects of getting older (see list of blogs below).  In the spirit of being "Fair and Balanced" (choke) it may be time to talk about some of the more sucky parts of Geezerhood I've encountered recently.

I realize that my recent conditions pale in comparison to those of other people out there and I sincerely apologize for making my difficulties seem so bad.  But my problems are severe enough to make me much more sympathetic for the plight of those who are worse off and to make me admire them for their ability to face their situation and continue their lives with grace and good humor.

Up to this point I've been fairly healthy -- maybe three overnight hospital stays in my entire lifetime, no significant surgeries, ZERO prescription meds on a daily continuing basis.  Not to say there are no issues at all -- family history of glaucoma so I've been monitoring my status often, pre-hypertensive (I take my pressure at home regularly), medium high cholesterol buffered by very high HDL (the good kind of cholesterol), a few pre-cancerous lesions on my forehead, treated and monitored regularly, and of course a slightly enlarged prostate, common in men of my age but being monitored.  Oh, and an irritating susceptibility to bruising on my arms and hands attributed by my dermatologist to years of unprotected sun exposure.  She also blaims the sun for those "age spots" on my hands -- embarrassing reminders of my passage into Geezerhood, but not life-threatening. All in all, not too bad for a 69-year-old.

Then, about a month ago, I began to disintegrate.

In very short order my blood pressure went up by 10 points, I had a retinal hemorrhage in my right eye, and not long after that I had a dandy case of shingles, an affliction that has led me to reset my "worst pain you've ever experienced" index.  I went from zero prescription meds to three, all of which have potential side effects and interactions, and from visits to doctors maybe once or twice per year to once or twice a week. 

One of the most disturbing things about all this is that the appearance of the problems was so unexpected and unpredicted.  For example, the glaucoma risk had nothing to do with the retinal hemorrhage, though the spike in blood pressure might.  Of course the rise in pressure is a puzzle that so far none of my platoon of medical experts can explain.  Shingles can occur in anyone who has had chickenpox, and though the risk increases with age, it can strike young whipersnappers as well.  By age 80, 50% of the population will get shingles. Having the shot (which I did) only cuts your chances by about 40-50%, though in my case it lulled me into complacency and a false sense of invulnerability. The trigger is uncertain, though some research suggests high stress (which I don't have) or a compromised immune system (which I don't have) may be causes.

Another disturbing aspect is the feeling that I've been sucked into a giant medical-industrial complex that seems designed not to let me go.  I've seen a half-dozen doctors, all of whom make me fill out the same forms over again, then perform the same tests the others have performed shortly before, apparently not trusting their colleagues or not liking the exact way the tests were performed.  They then have prescribed medications that have possible side effects that have a good chance of limiting my fairly active life-style, leading to other kinds of problems. And of course they all want me to come back in the near future to do the same tests over again.

The drug side effects are potentially very problematic and it is troubling to me that my doctors, while aware of the effects, are so focused on treating my symptoms that they don't fully appreciate the impact on my quality of life, i.e. , their impact on me as a person.  Here are a few of the possible side-effects from the drugs they have selected for me:

• Drug A (Eye Drops): Eye discomfort/itching/redness, blurred vision, dizziness, dry mouth, drowsiness, or tiredness (my emphasis).
• Drug B (Blood Pressure):  Dizziness or lightheadedness may occur ...
• Drug C (Shingles pain):  Drowsiness, dizziness, loss of coordination, tiredness, blurred/double vision, unusual eye movements, or shaking (tremor) may occur.

Note, these are possible side effects, not things that invariably occur.  Each drug's highlighted side effects has a fairly small (but known) probability of effecting any one person.  But when all three drugs are being taken at the same time, the probability that at least one of them will produce the side effects is much greater.  And guess what -- I feel tired, dizzy and clumsy. Of course which drug(s) is (are) causing these problems isn't clear because I started taking all three at the same time. Oh, and I checked online and found that these three drugs have the least severe side effects of those available for my conditions.

So the good news is that I'm receiving treatment for my retinal hemorrhage, my Shingles pain, and my blood pressure.  The bad news is that my fairly active lifestyle (hiking, working out in our pool, aerobic exercise of various types), is possibly extinct.  For the potential negative consequences of this, see my blog How to Compress Your Morbidity.

All in all I've been pretty bummed out by the whole thing.  The physical problems are themselves rather hard to deal with, but so is the treatment.  And I feel somehow cheated that my attention to diet, exercise, and precautionary actions wasn't enough to avoid these problems. I was being such a good boy, why did this happen to me?!!  The unsettling answer is, of course, "who the h*** knows?"

After lots of careful analysis, research, and intellectually rigorous consideration of the various probabilities and alternative scenarios I've come to a conclusion. My advice to myself is "GET A GRIP!"

Ok, I've got some problems that pose challenges -- this is part of living. And dying. There will be more challenges ahead, no doubt, and they may occur just as unexpectedly.  Geezerhood will end someday no matter what I do.  But I can control my mental state as it approaches, or if my mind deteriorates to the point where that isn't possible, I can still control it until my sense of self dissolves. I can choose a positive or negative path through Geezerhood.

It's up to me.
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Related Blogs on Geezerhood:

Embracing Your Inner Geezer
How to Compress Your Morbidity
The Power of Negative Thinking
Thoughts for a New Year
So, What Do You Do All Day?
Jogging the Memory of a Geezer
Decision Making In Geezerhood
Don't Go To Your 50th High School Reunion!
Taste Buds Are Wasted On The Young!