My parents got the best of America

My parents are part of the so-called Silent Generation. They were born in the 30s, in the decade before the baby boom started. My father is about five years older than my mother so he remembers being a kid during World War 2. He was born to poor Italian immigrants, but thanks to the GI Bill, after serving four pre-Vietnam years in the Air Force, he got to go to college for free. He wisely studied engineering and his life went straight up from there. My mother was born to lower middle class second-generation immigrants of mixed European descent and her parents were able to afford to send her to UMass on their modest incomes. She graduated debt-free and stopped working as a teacher the minute she started “showing” with me and never really had to work after that.

They were able to buy a new house (actually two), raise two daughters, send them to college (in my sister’s case, numerous colleges), travel the world, and enjoy a decades-long comfortable retirement, including 6+ weeks in sunny Florida each winter. Now, as they enter the final season of their lives, they are in remarkably good health and have various good options. They could sell their two-story home (which they purchased for about 30K in the 60s and is now worth 1M+) and move into one of several different high-end assisted living facilities nearby, or move into their one-floor condo, or adapt their two-story house as needed and just stay there. They have many different options.

From the GI Bill to plentiful and affordable new housing, quality public education (including college), Medicare, Social Security, and generous ongoing veterans benefits, America has been great to them.

Now, I’m not complaining (much) because I’ve been lucky too, but things were a bit different for us. My husband and most of my friends incurred tremendous debt to go to college and grad school in the 80s and 90s. We made sacrifices for me to stay at home for a couple of years when my kids were babies, including buying a dilapidated, antique house with a down payment I had to ask my father for in a humiliating conversation.

We worked hard to fix up that tiny old house with the severely slanting floors, lead paint, and leaking fieldstone basement. I got a job, my husband got a second job, and he also put in tons of sweat equity. We were able to roll his student loans into our mortgage. And then, when we decided to try to sell that house in 2004, we got lucky. I found buyers that overpaid significantly for our house. I met a woman on a playground (another young mom) who wanted to buy a house in our town and I told her that ours just happened to be on the market. We hit it off personally and that predisposed her to like my house more than she should have when she and her husband came to see it with a realtor. We ended up making nearly 150% on that house in just nine years. If we had waited three more years to sell it, the subprime mortgage crisis would’ve been underway and we never would’ve done so well. That one lucky sale set us to be able to get most of the things my parents got. We’ve achieved a similar lifestyle to theirs, but without the second home, extravagant travel, and 6+ weeks in Florida each winter.

After we moved to our bigger, newer house, we were super savers and got lucky with some corporate stock from one of my husband’s jobs and were able to give our two kids debt-free college educations. We know this is rare. This is not what most Americans can expect these days.

And as we face very uncertain times ahead, I can only hope that my kids, and their kids, will be able to get most of what we had. We will help them as much as we can, but we have our own retirement to worry about. Who the hell knows what will happen with Social Security and Medicare. We have to be prepared to pay for everything ourselves.

The contrast between what my immigrant grandparents arrived with and what my parents have been able to achieve in this country is staggering. Yes, my parents worked hard and stayed married (divorce is a real wealth killer), but they also happened to be born at a very good point in American history. I think it may turn out that they got the absolute best of America.

Four generations together for the first time yesterday

Related posts:

La Dolce Vita

The College Experience

Grandparents

My two grandmothers

Sweet Potato Pie and Sausage Stuffing

Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?

We officially took over hosting Thanksgiving from my parents a few years ago, as they are now both 85+. The two things I make the day before Thanksgiving (today) are sweet potato pies and sausage stuffing.

Since my sweet potato pie recipe (with photos) is linked above, I’m going to write up my sausage stuffing recipe for posterity. It comes from my mother, who got it from her mother, who probably got it from her mother. Long live the matriarchy.

Mom’s Turkey Stuffing

Brown two 16oz roll packages of pork sausage (Jimmy Dean, Jones Farm, etc) with one large cut-up onion in a Dutch Oven.

This type of sausage is found in the frozen foods section. You need to thaw it in the fridge before you make the stuffing.

Break up into small pieces a stale-ish loaf of bread and combine it with the sausage mixture. (If the bread is too fresh, it doesn’t work well. You can leave your bread out the night before to dry it out a bit.)

Add 1-2 teaspoons Bell’s poultry seasoning and salt & pepper to taste.

“Since 1867” (wow, that’s an old company)

Add water, if needed, to moisten the mixture.

Keep in the refrigerator overnight and stuff the bird in the morning.

Whatever doesn’t fit in the turkey, can be baked in a casserole dish until hot.

This is how the stuffing looks before I stick it in the fridge for the night.

Happy Thanksgiving 🦃🍁

Rail Trail A**holes

Name your top three pet peeves.

  1. Cyclists on the rail trail who don’t yield to pedestrians. They like to “thread the needle” through two pedestrians (or groups of pedestrians) walking in opposite directions, coming within inches of the walkers. Just wait until it’s safe to pass, jerk!
  2. E-bikes on the (very flat) rail trail moving at top speed. Technically e-bikes are considered “non-motorized” vehicles, so they’re allowed, but they can go very fast and seem dangerous. Typically, the people choosing to use all the power their e-bikes have to offer are quite fat and should really be pedaling (in my opinion).
  3. Anyone on the rail trail in MAGA gear. Honestly, just fuck off. This is Massachusetts.

How’s that? Angry enough for a Tuesday? Thanks WordPress. You finally let me answer the Daily Prompt and now I’m mad! 😡

Resistance fashion

Not to make light of the whole “United States is becoming a fascist nation” thing (we’re not there quite yet), but it does beg the question: What would the American Resistance look like? I mean…what would we actually wear? And could we possibly hold a candle to the best and most fashionable resistance movement ever: The French Resistance.

If you were going to sneak around behind the Nazis’ backs, you definitely needed a good trench coat. A belted one, bien sûr! And you needed boots—sturdy ones. And a messenger bag (obviously) for all the coded messages you’re transporting, and extra snacks for those poor people hiding in your attic. And the finishing touch…the pièce de résistance of your French Resistance outfit was clearly the beret.

These are the things you have time to think about when you’re no longer reading the national news.

I hope the American Resistance adopts berets. Call me when they issue the berets.

Heretic

We haven’t been to the movies in quite some time, but decided to venture out to see Heretic starring Hugh Grant last night. That’s right, we went to see a horror movie on the big screen. That’s unusual and out of character for us as we are officially old now. My husband, at 62, qualifies for the senior discount at movie theaters and everyone knows horror movies are for the young (who love to be frightened en masse).

But Hugh Grant is one of “ours.” At 64, he’s a young boomer (like my husband) and I feel like I’ve known him all of my adult life. From his very earliest period piece Maurice in 1987 (a tale of gay love in repressed Edwardian England), through all the rom coms (Love Actually, Notting Hill…), scandals, arrests and love affairs (why couldn’t he just work things out with Liz Hurley?), I followed it all.

In Heretic, he’s smart and evil, but still somewhat charming (that upperclass Brit accent, those twinkling eyes, the modest smile). The two young actresses who play Mormon missionaries entrapped by Grant are fantastic. There are many long monologues and dialogues about world religions that make you think. At one point, the young women are forced to make a choice between two doors—one labeled Belief and the other Disbelief—to try to escape Grant’s metal-reinforced house of horrors. But the scary parts aren’t all that scary. I didn’t scream once. It’s more of a thought-provoking thriller.

Bottom line: it’s worth seeing Grant in this role if you’ve “known” him your entire adult life like I have. Technically, he’s a Baby Boomer, but culturally, he’s GenX. Apparently this group now has a name and it’s Generation Jones.

Hugh Grant with Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East in Heretic
Hot couple Hugh Grant and Elizabeth Hurley back in the day

Sleeping baby therapy

I am continuing my weekly grandma snuggling sessions with my adorable granddaughter and I really wish everyone had such an amazing option. I know she won’t be so sleepy forever, and that we will be doing a lot of fun, active stuff in the future, but for now, this is perfect. She is perfect. Her mom and dad are doing such a great job taking care of her, there’s not all that much else to do. Snuggling is Job One.

The best is when she falls into a very deep sleep on me and stays that way for a couple of hours. When she’s awake, she is very cute and smiley, but there’s only so long you can stay awake when you’re busy growing so fast!

For all the folks dreading dealing with MAGA relatives on Thanksgiving, I recommend yesterday’s post in The Brevity Blog by guest blogger Andrea Tate, as well as her original, viral day-after-the-election piece in The Huffington Post. There’s nothing normal about any of this.

Woman of the Hour

An insightful post by Singing Gecko reminded me that I recently watched—and highly recommend—Woman of the Hour on Netflix. It stars Anna Kendrick, who also directed it. Quite a feat. She is extremely talented.

I think men especially should watch it.

We all know that the vast majority of men are not serial killers…or rapists…or even misogynists (despite the election results), but they’ve really never walked in our shoes. The “trapped” feeling when alone in an unlit area with a large man lurking is hard to describe in words. The mixture of fear, self-doubt (am I overreacting?) and calculation (what if I run to the stairs? will someone hear me if I scream?) is extremely well-portrayed in Woman of the Hour.

Woman of the Hour is a dramatic, bizarre and entertaining true story that helps explain why so many women recently said they’d choose the bear.

Even better, one of the major settings of the film is The Dating Game—a classic TV game show that elder GenXers like me will remember from childhood, especially if your parents let you watch tons of TV like mine did.

Tony Hale, Anna Kendrick and Daniel Zovatto in one of The Dating Game scenes in “Woman of the Hour.”

All-day retreat

I was at church ALL day yesterday. I got there at 9 for choir rehearsal. Then we had the service and coffee hour. After that, I attended a four-hour retreat for the Executive Team of the church. (I agreed to fill a one-year position on the Standing Committee. Typically these are three-year positions, but someone got sick and couldn’t fulfill their term.)

I’m finding that this leadership role feels a lot like work, except I’m not getting paid. If I’m going to be doing stuff that feels like work, I think I’d rather be getting paid. In my new post-election “Circle the Wagons” mentality, volunteerism should be limited to fun things that I truly enjoy, like singing in the choir and sacred circle dances. Anything else I do should directly benefit my own family. Therefore, it would be better for me to get a paid part-time job than continue to do volunteer work that feels like real work.

Pretty selfish, huh? Well that’s what the election hath wrought in this previously civic-minded, privileged white lady. Fuck it. I’m all about me and my own family now.

In addition to being politically liberal and drinking a lot of coffee, Unitarian Universalists (UUs) are known for talking endlessly. Our congregations are self-governed, democratically, without much control by the national organization. The minister is paid (obviously) but has no real authority over the congregation, other than her moral and intellectual leadership. The power of persuasion is her main tool.

Here are some classic jokes about UUs:

Why did the UU cross the road?

• To support the chicken in its search for its own path.

What’s a UU’s idea of a great sermon?

• A strong opening, a thoughtful middle, and no definite conclusion.

How do you scare a UU?

• Say, “Let’s vote on a creed!”

Why do UUs always bring pencils to services?

• To edit the hymnal as needed.

You get the idea.

Haiku: Cozy

Baby burrito

Snug as a bug in a rug

Nothing else matters

Image from Pexels

NOTE: I am dying to share photos of my infant granddaughter with my readers, but will refrain, as this is a public blog.

I just love to wrap her up like a burrito (aka swaddling) and snuggle with her while she takes a nice long nap in my arms. It’s basically grandma nirvana. I wish I could bottle the feeling and share it with all the broken-hearted people.

🥰

XOXO

Mary, GenX Grandma (I still have 204 days of my fifties left, but who’s counting)