TOO MANY MAMMOGRAM SCARES

Almost  every adult has been through at least one mammogram scare.  This affects not only women, but the men in their lives who love them and share the worry.

Here’s how it works: you calmly go in for what is called a routine mammogram.  Let’s say you have no family history of breast cancer,  you’re relatively young, so you’re not really worried about the results.  Then, the next day, you get that scary call that there’s something not quite right and you need to come in for another test. This might be on a Friday afternoon.  So now, you must get through a miserable weekend, worrying about the  results.  Then, even if you go back on a Monday, it may be Tuesday before you are given an all clear diagnosis, because of course, a very busy radiologist must read every x-ray.  And if a needle biopsy is recommended, the wait and worry can go on for another week.

And now, you're always going to be stressed out before your next mammogram. Talk to any group of women willing to share their thoughts, and they’ll  tell you that once they’ve had a “bad” mammogram, they’re nervous wrecks days before and after they have their next one. Also, the more needle biopsies you have, the more likely there’s scar tissue or calcium deposits that will trigger another abnormal finding. And many times, the patient learns that a mere wrinkle in their skin caused the concern. 

Modern technology has done a better job of screening, with equipment that’s reduced the dreaded call backs by approximately 40%.  But that leaves the other 60% going through way too many false alarms.  Consequently, many women decide to stop having mammograms at all.  Surely, the system could be improved, so that the waiting time is never more than 24 hours when there’s a problem with your mammogram.

ENJOY LIFE! GET UP AND GO

Most working people dream of the day when they don’t have to set the alarm clock anymore.   And yet, when retirement day finally arrives, you may find yourself waking up early every morning, anyway.   Then follows a period of self imposed busyness. You volunteer, baby sit your grandkids, go on trips, join  clubs…anything to get back that sense of purpose you once had.

After several years,  all the work you’ve created for yourself begins to feel like—yes, work.  You tire of the endless squabbles among volunteers, the self imposed deadlines, driving here and there to attend meetings, dressing up for card parties that are beginning to tire you, and the gym workouts you’re starting to dread.  And so you slow down.  Your knees creak, your back aches,  you stop doing much of anything, and sink into a low mood. 

Your get-up-and-go just got-up-and-went.

Especially if you’re on various medications,  you may wake up so groggy that it takes all morning just to fix a bowl of cereal. After you manage to get dressed, you might sit in a chair all day and watch television, read books, and feed the cats. It seems a lot easier, especially if your spouse or partner is slowing down, also.  

Now is the time to make yourself get up and go.   You’ll feel more alive and cheerful after a brisk walk in the park, even if you have to bring along a cane.  If you’ve always been a swimmer, it may seem like too much bother to go to the YMCA, change your clothes, and do those laps.  But you know what? When you walk out that door and into the sunshine, you feel like a new person.  Tell yourself to get some kind of exercise every day.  If you don’t like walking, you can enroll in an exercise or tai chi class for seniors.  Don’t go a few times and give up; stick with it until you feel better. Or, if your knees are in good shape, take some dance lessons.  This time of year, gardening is a wonderful way to work your muscles, pump some oxygen into your blood, and have a feeling of accomplishment.  Even housework qualifies as good exercise.

 

Stop regretting the past and dreading the future.  Enjoy life right now! Get up and EightyGo.

NO MORE SOGGY SALADS

What could be worse than a soggy salad drenched with dressing?  Especially when it’s served in an upscale restaurant.  Any chef who can’t serve a good salad isn’t worth his salt.

At home, the bane of crisp salads are bottled dressings, with a mixture of  the oil and vinegar poured over the poor, unsuspecting  greens.   When tossing a good salad, you must add the oil and vinegar separately.  There’s an Italian saying that  when dressing  a salad, you need  a miser to add vinegar, a judge to add salt, and a spendthrift to add oil. 

Many chefs will tell you to add first the vinegar, then the oil, but I prefer the Italian way of tossing a couple teaspoons of oil on my individual dinner salad, putting it in the fridge while we have a glass of wine, then tossing again with  a teaspoon of  vinegar and just before adding salt  My salad is always crisp, fresh and green. If you’re serving extra people, just remember that you want twice as much oil  as vinegar.  My husband is on a soft diet, so he enjoys his canned fruit while I relish my green salad.

While most people prefer using  olive oil, I like walnut oil for it’s nutty flavor.  My special vinegar, stored in a separate jar, is doctored up with a variety of herbs and spices—basil, oregano, chopped garlic, curry, paprika and anything else that looks interesting. You might add a tablespoon of brown sugar to smooth out the tartness.  A jar of this seasoned vinegar usually lasts a month.  Plain vinegar will do as a base, but a bit of red wine or balsamic vinegar will perk up the  flavor.

And now, the lettuce.  A mixture of different lettuces like leaf, arugula and romaine is fine, but that can get expensive if you end up with a lot of unused wilted lettuce.  I normally buy romaine hearts and chop them up myself, although there’s been a scare about romaine lately.  Red and green leaf lettuce is just as good.  A few tomatoes and maybe some grated carrots , radishes, or cucumbers  will add color and texture, but they say no good green salad will have more than three added ingredients.

If you decide to make your own salad dressing,  you will no longer have numerous bottles of store bought dressing taking up room in your refrigerator.  All you need  is a bottle  of vinegar, a can of oil, and herbs from your kitchen shelves.   And think of the money you’ll save.

Celebrate Earth Day with a delicious salad!  🌍

A DISTURBING LACK OF CIVILITY

Yesterday, the media giddily reported that a tenured college teacher in California had called the late first lady a “witch” and that she was glad that Barbara Bush  had died.  The media also gave plenty of coverage to someone I never heard of called Roger Stone, who said the woman was a vicious drunk and she deserved to rot in hell.

Appalling.

Not just the fact that these people were so lacking in respect, but that the media would even cover such rot and give these rude people any voice at all.  Weren’t we always taught that you don’t speak ill of the dead?  Especially when they’re not yet cold in the grave? But then, of course, we have the former head of the FBI calling our duly elected president a “liar,” And said president turning around and calling that same man a “slimeball,” among other things.

What has happened to the YMCA core values of caring, honesty,  respect, responsibility? Name calling has always been the sign of a bully and a guttersnipe.   Respectable people kept such thoughts to themselves or shared them privately.

And how in the world can we explain all of this to our grandchildren?

THE PURSUIT OF ETERNAL YOUTH

How far should you go in pursuit of the fountain of youth?  If you visit  a shopping mall or restaurant in South Dakota, you probably will see plenty of white haired ladies with as many wrinkles as Barbara Bush.  Hop on a plane to Palm Springs, and you won’t find many women  growing old gracefully.  Some face lifts do take years off your face, if that’s what you’re going for.  Others can be grotesque, with skin pulled tight over cheekbones and lips plumped up like a duck.  You see a lot of the latter in California.  The one time I asked my husband if I needed a cosmetic surgery, he nearly had a heart attack, remembering all the botched face lifts we'd seen.   “Don’t you dare mess with the face of the woman I love,” he pleaded.  So that was the end of that.

Dental implants are popular to upgrade your smile, but some people go too far.  Perfectly formed and obviously fake white teeth can be a bit startling in an aging person , calling attention to the lines around their mouth. 

By the time I graduated from college, I had a “skunk” streak of white hair.  Often, I was asked if I had paint in my hair, but more often someone would say something like “you have white hair” as if I didn’t know .  I got so tired of the comments that I started “dyeing” my hair as soon as I got away from home.  My mother thought no lady would ever dye her hair, and that’s what they called it back then.  It was thought to be a bit trashy.  When it finally became fashionable to “color” your hair, I had already been doing it for 30 years.

Weight control is another problem, because the body needs fewer and fewer calories as we age.  But does it really matter that much if you’re slightly overweight?  Medical studies have shown that it’s healthy for the elderly to have a few extra pounds to get them through any ailments.  Some older women still work diligently to weigh what they did in their 20’s, but it doesn’t do a lot for their face.  A little padding helps smooth out the wrinkles.

By the time you’re a lady of eighty, you aren’t particularly vain about your looks.  You’re more interested in getting a hearing aid that works.  Eventually, you take a look in the mirror and say to yourself, “this is as good as it gets.”  What a relief.

THE JOY OF RECEIVING A LETTER IN THE MAIL

Do you remember the last time you received a handwritten letter?  If you're under fifty, you may have never received one at all, except for some hastily written sentences scrawled at the bottom of a greeting card.

Before e mail and smart phones and texting, it was costly to make long distance phone calls, and people actually sat down and wrote letters.  Especially if you were in the dating mode.  I had boyfriends in the service , boyfriends who went to colleges a long way from home and boyfriends who’d moved away , and it was exciting to wait for the mailman and see your name scrawled across an envelope with their return address.  Heart pounding, you would tear open the envelope and pore over  every single word.  If it was a love letter, you would hide it in a drawer so your mother wouldn’t see it, and read it over and over again until you got another one.

My college girlfriends also wrote letters in the summer, full of news about vacations, who they were dating, and all those gossipy things young women talk about.  Their handwriting and enclosed snapshots were unique and personal,  almost as if they were right there in the room.

After I was married and lived far from home, my mother and I exchanged letters every week, pounded out on an old typewriter.  We never bothered with spelling and punctuation  corrections (too much trouble to stop and erase), but we both looked forward to hearing about what was going on in each other’s lives.  I  could go back to the letter all week, anytime I was  feeling lonely and missed  my family. A personal letter was a comfort and also a great compliment .  It meant someone cared enough about you to sit down for maybe an hour, address an envelope, buy a stamp, and take it to the post office.  

You know what I’ve going to do today?  I’m going to sit right down and write someone a letter.

TRUMP & COMEY JUST A COUPLE OF CLOWNS

If you’re looking for comic relief in the nation’s toxic political environment, you need look no further than the dialogue between James Comey and Donald Trump. 

I must admit I’m impressed with Comey’s euphemisms in describing Trump's character.  Instead of calling Trump a fraud, he says he’s “untethered from the truth.”  He believes Trump lacks an “external moral framework,” but never comes out and calls him an adulterer and a thief.  Very lawyerly, indeed. You can’t be sued for libel and defamation of character with those high brow comments.  A few years ago, I ran across  “moral compass”  in a book,  and liked that term  so much that I used it to complain to a real estate company about one of their agents who had lied to us about the condition of the apartment we rented, yet refused to give us a refund.  I didn’t call the guy a liar and a thief, and I never got my money back, but the person in question was soon out of a job.

Then we have Trump's unrestrained name calling in response to these carefully worded opinions.  Comey is a "liar, loser, weakling, slimeball, and a leaker."  Whatever pops into Trumps’s  head comes out of his mouth like a playground bully.

But of course, beneath every comedy is an undercurrent of tragedy, and in this case, I believe the entire episode is harmful to all the citizens of this country, no matter who they voted for.   The issues of war and peace shouldn’t be in the hands of a couple of clowns.

ARE YOU ENVIOUS OR ENVIED?

One of benefits of  turning eighty is that you seldom feel envious anymore. Half the people you once envied are dead, and those who are still around are hanging on for dear life, coping with arthritis, glaucoma, and other physical ailments. Everyone has kids who have turned out with varying degrees of success or failure. And money doesn’t mean much if you’re in a wheelchair or in such poor health that you can’t go anywhere, except maybe to church or an afternoon matinee.

But looking back, you realize how much envy affects young people’s  lives.  When I was a child in elementary school, I had the advantage of older siblings who shared their schoolwork. That made me a pretty smart first grader, but nobody likes a kid who’s at the top of her class. Consequently, I got teased and bullied,   and didn’t realize that being teacher’s pet doesn’t make for popularity. I always thought they didn’t like me because of  my frizzy hair & crooked teeth.

During the teenage years, pretty girls are envied and gossiped about by their less attractive classmates.   I didn’t lack for boyfriends, but envied the popular girls who lived in beautiful homes,  wore fashionable clothes, and drove their parent’s expensive cars around town.    Envy and feelings of inferiority carried over from being too smart in grade school and too poor in high school.

When you’re young, you don’t realize that an envious person can make your life miserable. They can pretend to be your friend, and run you down behind your back. This is even worse if they’re  colleagues, because it can affect your career.   You keep trying to make them like you, but it won’t work, because you have something they wish they had—whether it be good looks, a happy home, a higher salary or talent.  There are a zillion ways to attract envy.

Things start getting worse in middle age.  Now you’re competing for expensive homes, professional accomplishments, and your children’s achievements. They say people who boast are basically insecure, but it’s hard to feel sympathy for a woman who brags about her brilliant CEO son, when your kid is back living at home and out of a job. 

There’s not much you can do if the green eyed monster rears its ugly head, except to know it's toxic to both the envious and the envied, alike.   Successful people have learned it’s not smart to flaunt wealth or success. Millionaires like Sam Walton drive old trucks, and Warren Buffet lives in his first house. And an affluent woman who runs for office or volunteers at a soup kitchen, had best leave her diamonds at home.

  

PERK UP YOUR MENU WITH PLANTAINS

Have you ever  fixed plantains? I had never eaten them in my life  until I went on a second honeymoon to Costa Rica with my second husband.  That was about 25 years ago, and grocery stores in my small Indiana  hometown didn't sell them.   And if I had tried to serve them to patients at the hospital where I was Director of Nutrition Services, they would  have come back uneaten.  Hoosiers in flyover country are mostly meat, potatoes, and noodle people. 

But once I’d been served fish and fried plantains, I was hooked.  Then, as immigration from Latin America increased, I found them hidden away in the produce department of our local supermarket where they started out bright green, lingering in an obscure bin until they were black.  The problem was, most people didn’t know what they were, much less how to cook them.

The most important part of serving plantains is when you buy them.  Too green, and they’ll taste like wood.  Too ripe, and,  they taste like fried bananas— too mushy and sweet for my taste.  For me, a plantain that is yellow with dark spots, but still slightly firm to the touch is just perfect. 

I don’t peel them until the fish is in the oven. Then,  I slice the plantains across every inch and a half, stand them on end and slice down the middle.  Next, heat a thin coat of  a olive oil in a pan on medium heat, and fry the plantains  about a minute or two until they’ve browned on the bottom. Flip them over with and mash them slightly with a spatula until they’re brown on the other side,  and slightly soft,  then drain on paper towels.  Cover with foil and keep them warm until the fish is done, and you’re ready too serve a delicious tropical meal even though it’s snowing outside.

Some plantain recipes on the net call for cups of cooking oil and super ripe plantains.  Way too many calories! Don’t do this if you’re trying to eat lean.  Use the smallest amount of cooking oil possible.  Season with salt and pepper to taste, but be careful if you’re on a low sodium diet. 

The internet has more elaborate plantain recipes that you might like. A Caribbean getaway may not be possible,  but you can enjoy an exotic food right in your own home.

NO MORE RETAIL THERAPY AT MACY'S

Walked through  the local mall today for the first time since Macy’s closed their doors.  The south end of the parking lot is empty and the halls are eerily quiet.

Once upon a time, big city department stores seemed like a magical dreamland to this hick from Purdue who graduated  college to work in  Chicago.  I took an entry level  job in an advertising agency only one block away from Marshall Field’s.  Heaven!  I could barely make my rent, and certainly couldn’t afford their clothes, but it was fun to enter those revolving doors , look up into the vaulted ceilings,  smell the exotic fragrances, and see the latest fashions, Then, I’d get out my sewing machine and copy those expensive dresses as best I could.

A few years later, I landed a job that sent me on a trip  to New York City.  Couldn’t wait to get to Macy’s. It seemed years ahead of Marshall Field's, and the epitome of  sophistication.

Then, fate knocked me around for a few years.  I got a divorce and landed back in the ingrown, Southern Indiana hometown I’d always wanted to escape.   But I got a good job which I needed to support three kids, so I was stuck in River City. Then,  lo and behold, Macy’s came to Indiana, and that made me feel as if a part of my old life had returned.  I wasn’t stuck in the boonies; I could shop at Macy’s!  

The  fun  of department store shopping has gone the way of the internet, and now, with Macy’s gone, retail therapy is never going to be the same. Farewell, Macy’s, and thanks for the memories.

ARE NOSE RINGS TRASHY OR HOT?

My husband and I often have brunch on Sunday mornings at a college hangout, so we are able to observe  current  fads and fashions.  Some we like—skinny pants, boots, short skirts, mini dresses. And we’re seeing fewer tattoos.  But it’s the nose piercings that leave us puzzled.  Why would a pretty girl –or any man or woman-- want something  like a bull ring between their  nostrils?  I dunno.  When we were in college I recall we did a lot of kissing.  Seems like a long smooch would be uncomfortable if you’re having a piece of metal pressed against your lips.  Not to mention that it might be gooey if it got infected or you had a runny nose.  The allergy season could be problematic.

The studs on the side of the nose are more attractive. Especially on dark skinned people, they look rather exotic.  But apparently, there’s a down side to the studs, too.  They can get infected, and cause ugly pustules to break out on your skin   And sometimes they leave permanent scars.

What do prospective employers think?  In some jobs, it really doesn’t  matter.  Many waiters and waitresses have nose rings, so apparently you won’t have any trouble getting a job at Cheesecake Factory if you’re sporting a bull ring. But I imagine if you’re applying for a job in more conservative organizations like law offices, consulting firms, and the like, they’ll find a reason not to hire someone with a with a face full of junk.

Some psychologists believe nose piercing  is a way of rebelling, or making a statement that you’re hot and sexy.  But a beautiful woman doesn’t need anything to make her more attractive.  And if you’re not exactly gorgeous, it seems like a bad idea to draw extra attention to less than perfect features.   A clean, fresh face glowing with youth doesn’t  need  piercings.   

According to online surveys,  men see nose rings as a sign that a woman is vulnerable and easy.  So, in that sense, I guess nose rings are hot.  But to us, they’re not.

BEAT THE BLUES WITH GRATITUDE

Sometimes, you have a streak of bad luck. You lose your cell phone, have a falling out with a loved one, and get into a fender bender at the Walmart  parking lot.  On top of that, it rains all day, and suddenly you’re in a funk and can’t seem to pull yourself out.  That happened to me awhile back, and then I ran across one of those self help articles which said that keeping a  gratitude list over a period of one month would leave you in a better mood than a bottle of St. John’s wort.

The suggestion  was this:  Every day, for one month, list three things you’re grateful for.  That calculates to approximately 90 items.  After listing the obvious things like family, friends and home, I wasn’t sure I could do that.  But surprisingly, I found  I’d taken many small joys for granted—like hot coffee and the morning newspaper.  How many women in war torn countries can enjoy these simple pleasures?  And so, the list began to grow, and yes, it worked and by Christmas, I had made it through number 65 , and  was my old self again.

Then my husband had surgery, I got the flu, and we finally went south for a few weeks.  Now that we’re back, it’s been nothing but snow, ice and cold in April.  Time to finish my  gratitude list before the blues take me down.  Today I started again:

66. blooming daffodils

67. my husband’s  recovery

68. a good night’s sleep.

There.  I’m done for the day, and already feeling better. 

So, the next time you lose your wallet and you’re coming down with a cold, whip out a notebook or open up a new document on your computer titled Gratitude List.

ONE THING COULD LEAD TO HAPPINESS

Do you make your bed every day?  If you don’t you have plenty of company.  According to a survey of 68,000 people by Hunch . com,  59 percent of people don’t make their bed; 27 percent do, while 17 percent pay a housekeeper to do the dreaded job.   This may be good or bad, but psychologists in that same survey found that 71 percent of bed makers consider themselves happy, while 62 percent of non-bed-makers say they’re unhappy.  Bed makers were more apt to like their jobs, own a home, exercise, and feel well rested.

As a kid going to girl scout camp, we were told to let our beds breathe before  we had breakfast, then make them after we got back from the cafeteria.  Some health advocates say that dust mites live in made beds, so they’re better left unmade.  Turns out, this advice only applies to people who live in damp climates.  The excuse does not apply to most of us in the USA.

Naval Admiral William Raven explained  in a commencement speech at the University of Texas, Austin,  why making your bed each day makes you happy:

. It gives you an accomplished feeling 1^st thing in the morning

. It helps with the clutter & visual appeal of your room

.It increases productivity and happiness

.It’s manageable

Studies  prove that people who make their beds are happier, more productive, and successful.   And it takes less than 2 minutes!   So, whether it rains, sleets or snows--get up, make your bed, and face the day with a smile.😃

JIM CROW LAWS & SEGREGATED BATHROOMS

On the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr's assassination, I thought back to the time I first saw a segregated bathroom. I came of age in the State of Indiana, moved to Chicago, and had no idea there was such a thing.

While growing up on the wrong side of  town, most of my neighbors didn't go anywhere special for summer vacations. State parks, maybe.  Later, in college, I knew lots of kids who could afford to go to Florida for spring break, but not one of them ever reported having to watch where they went to pee. I had never traveled south to Florida until I was married at age twenty four.

In 1960, my then husband decided to return to college for a degree from the University of Miami.   After about a month of staying with in-laws, we rented a small apartment near the University.  I didn't know a soul, was bored to death, and worried about money.  Two blocks away was a Sears Department Store.  I knew my college degree wouldn't  mean much to them, but I had worked my way through school as a secretary, so figured that might qualify me for a job in the office at Sears.  I put on my best dress, a pair of high heels, walked in 90 degree heat to the store, and asked for directions to the Personnel  Office. (They didn't call it Human Resources then.)  After climbing the stairs to the second floor, I thought I'd better stop in the restroom to wipe the sweat off my face and comb my hair.  I asked someone where the Ladies Room was, and a bored clerk pointed her finger.  Without paying much attention, I entered the restroom, surprised that it was dingy and smelly.   After I'd checked my appearance, I walked back into the store, and noticed all the white salespeople staring at me.  I wondered if I was trailing toilet paper. Alarmed,  I turned around, and realized  that I had made what appeared to be a serious mistake. A large sign said LADIES ROOM. I hadn't noticed the two smaller signs underneath, above two doors. One restroom was for COLORED,  and the other WHITE.  I had gone in the wrong door!

I was so shocked that when I finally sat down for an interview, I was shaking. Needless to say, I didn't get the job.  I suppose I was rejected for one of two reasons:  they thought I was either a nervous wreck or colored. Maybe both.


see my new blog, Saying It As She Sees It  @ livingwellafter80.com

STORMY DANIELS BUSTING HER BUTTONS

This is not about politics or POTUS.   It’s about the Stormy Daniels interview with Anderson Cooper.

I actually didn’t pay much attention to what she was saying because her tight fitting red blouse was distracting and annoying.  If you put on a garment that is too tight across the bust,  usually, you take it off  and find something that fits now that you’ve gained some extra weight. Nearly busting  her buttons  looked like a cheesy way to get male attention and approval.  I  used to manage  rental property and if I had to take a young woman to court for eviction proceedings, invariably she would show plenty of cleavage or wear a button buster.  Unfortunately, most  male judges were susceptible and gave the defendant an extra week or so more than the law requires.

I would guess that men enjoyed the interview more than women.  Females are quick to pick up on cheap tricks.   Then there’s the fact that Stormy once practiced  the world’s oldest profession.

Apparently, she was going for the tailored look, but this photo- shopped picture of Stormy in her heyday is the only one I could find on the internet that wouldn’t get me kicked off Blogger.   And if you look for too tight blouse pictures, you will find they are for adults only.   Honestly, why would anyone take Stormy Daniels seriously?  (Except a male judge, maybe) Meow, meow.

EMOTIONAL SUPPORT CATS & PIGS

Remember the time--just a couple of years ago--when you thought you knew what a Service Animal was?  You believed it was a dog trained to perform specific tasks for their physically or mentally impaired handlers.  That's all changed of late.  For $75,  you can go online and register your pet as an  Emotional Support Animal.  The benefit being that you can take it on a plane, into a restaurant, or into a no-pets rental unit.

But hang on there.  It's not as easy as it sounds.  There's a little caveat to buying that certificate. If you really want to force someone to accommodate such an animal, the registration must be accompanied by a letter from a doctor--and in some states--a psychiatrist, if you're planning to take your case to court.  In my state of Indiana, owners of public accommodations are not required to allow Emotional Support Animals, only Service Animals.

People didn't used to advertise their emotional problems.  If you were depressed, you saw a doctor or shared it with family and close friends.  You didn't think it was anybody's business but your own.  But now, you can proudly walk into an airport or restaurant with a cat or a pig and everyone will know you might be on Prozac, and can't  get through a day without this animal to prop up your mood.  Never mind if someone nearby is wildly allergic to cats. Allergies are no defense against Emotional Support Animals.

It might be a good idea to bring along a box of Kleenex the next time you take a trip or go out to dinner.

What Will Millennials Do When They Retire?

We of the Silent Generation retired years ago.  And, believe it or not, there are a few codgers still left from the Greatest Generation.  None of us had ever heard of a computer or a cellphone when we were teenagers.  Television was in it's infancy.  One of the most popular ways of passing time for young people was playing cards.  College students hung out in student union buildings playing bridge. Other popular card games were pitch, euchre, poker and hearts.  Card games required you to interact face to face with live human beings.  A lot of conversation and bantering took place while you were waiting for someone to decide which card to play.

One of the things retirees miss most is seeing people every day.  For older retirees, card playing is a bridge over those troubled waters.  Some men and women in their eighties play cards five times a week.  It keeps their mind active, but more importantly, they can  make new friends and  interact with real, live people on a regular basis.  Playing cards keeps loneliness at bay .

What will Millennials do when they retire? Will they sit back in their rockers and play games on their smart phones or computers all day?  And will social media prove an adequate replacement for the friendly--and sometimes not so friendly--work relationships they took for granted? There's always television, of course, but anyone who's been bedridden for a week or so knows how boring and unfulfilling that can be.

Perhaps they think they will play endless rounds of golf or tennis.  What they can't foresee is whether their knees will hold out that long, or if cardiovascular problems will rule out any type of physical activity.  Hobbyists will enjoy their crafts, and gardeners will plant more bulbs.  But at the end of the day, it's nice to hang out with friends in a good game of cards.