Gen X

Boston

~ MaryG ~ 8 Comments
The USS Constitution (“Old Ironsides”) with the Bunker Hill Monument in the background (August 21, 2025)

Do you know which great American city has been fighting authoritarians for 250 years? Sit down Philadelphia, because it’s Boston.

Fought on June 17, 1775, the Battle of Bunker Hill was one of the first major battles of the American Revolutionary War. Despite being technically a British victory, the battle showed that colonial forces could stand up to the British army, significantly boosting American morale.

In 1776, with the signing of the Declaration of Independence in Philadelphia (OK Philly we see you) the colonies formally declared themselves a new nation, requiring defense both on land and at sea. By 1794, with independence secured but U.S. ships vulnerable to attacks by pirates and foreign powers, Congress authorized the building of six frigates, including the USS Constitution.

In 1797, the USS Constitution was launched in Boston Harbor. During the War of 1812, she defeated multiple British ships in single day combat. In her most famous victory, British cannonballs bounced off her hull which was built with dense live oak (60% denser than white oak), thus the nickname Old Ironsides. The ship become a powerful symbol of the young republic’s survival and determination.

The ship in my photo is not a replica, it’s the actual USS Constitution. While she has undergone many restorations (her timbers have been replaced over time), her keel and much of her structure remain historic. She’s berthed at the Charlestown Navy Yard in Boston Harbor and is still an active U.S. Navy ship, with a crew of active-duty sailors who give tours.

Now check out Boston’s current mayor—Michelle Wu—telling overreaching, authoritarian President Donald Trump to go fuck himself in so many words.

Team Rosie

~ MaryG ~ 8 Comments

Like Sex and the City, Rosie O’Donnell is very aligned to me culturally.

In case you don’t remember the 1990s, Rosie O’Donnell was HUGE—one of America’s biggest cultural figures. Her daytime talkshow The Rosie O’Donnell Show won multiple Emmys and the media nicknamed her “The Queen of Nice.” She was truly a household name. I watched her a lot. She adopted her first child Parker in 1995, the same year I became a mom. She kept me company during the day when I was home with my kids. She was funny, kind, warm and loved Broadway musicals like I did.

In the 2000s, her image shifted as she came out publicly and became a strong advocate for LGBTQ+ rights, which made me like her even more. Later, when she was on The View, I didn’t watch her as often because I was back working, but I know that’s when her public fights with Donald Trump really ramped up. My recollection is that it was primarily a beef between two New Yorkers that had history and absolutely hated each other in a way that only two New Yorkers can.

Well, lo and behold, thirty years later, Trump is the most authoritarian President the United States has ever seen and Rosie has escaped to Ireland.

I’m obviously TEAM ROSIE in this feud.

In fact, since I discovered her TikTok and Substack shortly before my trip to Ireland, I’ve been following her time abroad closely. She seems to really love living in Dublin, although she misses her family. I even went to the Dublin comedy club where she had been practicing her act for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. By all accounts, she was a smashing success there. She plays Australia next.

I’m happy for Rosie that things are going well for her abroad, but I’m very aware of the absolutely dystopian reasons she left the country.

We are in uncharted waters now.

We live in a time when an American President publicly threatens to revoke a natural-born American’s citizenship for no reason other than that he just really fucking hates her.

Tom Cruise on The Rosie O’Donnell Show (and BTW, good on Tom for declining to accept a lifetime achievement award from Orange Mussolini at The Kennedy Center)

Very old parents

~ MaryG ~ 7 Comments

I think it is the nature of things for parents to care more about their children than vice versa.

Our children love us, but not how we love them. Oh how we love them. If they are struggling, sick or unhappy, it can be hard to function ourselves. If your parents live to be very old, you will be old too. You may be dealing with old people problems like osteoarthritis and macular degeneration at the same time as your parents. In some cases, very old parents outlive one or more of their children, which is obviously terrible for the parents. Nobody should have to bury a child. Ever.

But here’s what I think I want to say. You don’t owe your very old parents a myth of your own happy carefree existence. You’re old too. And things have gotten worse. The country has gotten worse.

I’m definitely not saying you should call up your very old parents and unload your problems on them. (If you’re still doing that at age 60+, you may have Peter Pan Syndrome.) I’m saying that if they call you a lot (and are of sound mind), it’s OK to be yourself. You don’t have to make up cheerful bullshit all the time just to keep them happy. Because that’s exhausting. And you’re old too.

On the flip side, if you’re having a good day and feel like chatting, call your mom. Nobody’s ever gonna love you like she does.

Interesting facades in London, 2019

Painful anniversary

~ MaryG ~ 9 Comments

It’s painful to go back and read this post from about a year ago—the day after Kamala Harris accepted the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. I had cried during her acceptance speech.

After so many months of dread and fear, I finally let myself feel hope and optimism for the future. My little granddaughter would be coming into a world where a woman of color was President, women’s rights to their own bodies would be restored, protecting our planet would be an international mission, and hate and racism would recede.

The Hillary Clinton nightmare would not repeat itself. It couldn’t.

I even bought my soon-to-arrive precious granddaughter a Harris-Walz onesie that said “For a Brighter Tomorrow.”

My daughter put my granddaughter in the onesie one time in early January, just so I could see it on her.

I had been imagining that we might get together and watch Kamala’s inauguration as a family. I imagined it would be a day of great joy.

And Just Like That

~ MaryG ~ 23 Comments

Predictably, I was a fan of Sex and the City and have eagerly watched all three seasons of the reboot—And Just Like That. (I saw both of the Sex and the City movies too.) We now know that this will be the final season of And Just Like That, so fans are getting ready to bid goodbye to Carrie Bradshaw forever.

My obvious connection to the show has been that I am the same generation as the main characters. Sarah Jessica Parker and Kristin Davis are my age exactly—sixty. They are among the group of actresses born in 1965 that I tend to keep tabs on.

I know there are plenty of haters out there, based on very legitimate criticisms of the show, but for me Sex and the City was like an alternate reality. By the time the show first aired in 1998, I was married with a three-year old, living in a somewhat dilapidated antique house in suburbia. What if I hadn’t gone that route? What if I had had the gumption to leave Boston for the real city in my twenties, like several of my friends? Would I be dashing around Manhattan in a tulle skirt, going to art openings and brunch?

The 60-year old versions of the characters in the reboot, still living in Manhattan in fabulous clothes, have been dealing with some relatable GenX problems from bouts of vertigo to ageism at work. Still, they’ve kept it mostly light and escapist. Even when Carrie’s husband (Mr. Big) drops dead in the shower, I wasn’t exactly heartbroken. The female friendships are still central. New York City is still central.

We’ll see what the final two episodes bring. How will my life in an alternate universe turn out?

SJP as Carrie Bradshaw in Season One of Sex and the City (1998)
Me hosting a rather cramped birthday party in our living room in 1998

Fawn in Snow

~ MaryG ~ 14 Comments

After being a finalist (and not getting) two different paid positions earlier this year, I’m feeling more and more like I actually am retired. My 30+ year career as a fundraiser feels over. It’s not that I couldn’t get some job in the field if I really wanted or needed one, but there just aren’t very many listings that excite me. And I don’t want to work a full-time job that I’m not excited about at this point in my life. I’m going to keep my LinkedIn profile open to recruiters, just in case someone reaches out with the perfect thing, but I’m not holding my breath.

[Side note: I know I’m lucky to have the option to not work at this age. All of my friends my own age are still working. My husband is still working part-time. All I can say is, we have been pretty diligent savers for most of our marriage and we got hooked up with a professional financial advisor early on. Left to our own devices, I’m not sure we’d be in this position. Honestly, my eyes just glaze over when this guy meets with us, but I do trust him. We’ve been with him for 30 years now.]

So, the question becomes: what to do? My daughter doesn’t need much help with my granddaughter and my outdoor summer pool closes Labor Day. I’m going to have a lot of time on my hands soon. I discovered last year that serving on my church’s governing board is not my thing. And my prior level of political activism (when I still thought we could stop Trump) feels futile now.

It seems like I should take advantage of this time and my health to start something new. After considering a number of options (from learning French to getting in way better shape), I’ve landed on something old. Something I used to love as a teenager. Art. I’ve enrolled in one drawing and one painting class for the fall. We’ll see where it goes, but I am excited.

Fawn in Snow, 1980, pastels, 56”x36”

Related:

Drawing

The Dealbreakers

~ MaryG ~ 8 Comments

In relation to yesterday’s post about my Jamaican-born great grandfather, I wanted to show you his “Declaration of Intention” to become a citizen of the United States from 1915:

In general, it seems like pretty standard stuff.

Name: David Powell

Age: 38 years

Occupation: Fireman

Color: White

Complexion: Fair

Height: 5 feet 7 inches

Weight: 142 pounds

Color of hair: Brown

Color of eyes: Brown

Other visible distinctive marks: Scar on chin

Place of birth: Jamaica, British West Indies

Date of birth: September 11, 1876

Current residence: 342 29 St., Brooklyn, N.Y.

Emigrated from: Liverpool, England

Vessel name: Civic

Last foreign residence: Liverpool, England

Allegiance renounced: George V, King of Great Britain & Ireland

Port of arrival: New York

Date of arrival: On or about the ___ day of May, 1903

But the last part is interesting:

“I am not an anarchist; I am not a polygamist nor a believer in the practice of polygamy; and it is my intention in good faith to become a citizen of the United States of America and to permanently reside therein: So help me God.”

So, the two dealbreakers were anarchy and polygamy.

Those were the elements the US wanted most to keep out in 1915.

I guess they’d be disappointed to know that the hit reality show Sister Wives has been running strong since 2010.