About Me

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Delray Beach, FL, Westport, MA, United States
Undergraduate degree, Colby College; MA in teaching, Columbia Teacher's College; former high school English teacher in three states; former owner of interior design co. with advanced degree from R.I. School of Design. Published first book in 2009 titled, MINOR LEAGUE MOM: A MOTHER'S JOURNEY THROUGH THE RED SOX FARM TEAMS. Her humorous manuscript titled ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS was published in June, 2014. In 2015 A SURVIVAL GUIDE won a gold medal in the self-help category at the Florida Authors & Publishers Association conference. See website By CLICKING HERE.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Ear Hair

For a lighthearted look at aging from a man's perspective, I turned to my friend, mystery writer, and pharmacist, Don Weiss, for a guest blog.




Today’s essay can be summed up in two words—ear hair.  Of all the bodily changes that come with the aging process, why has God in his infinite wisdom granted us the curse of ear hair and its companion plague, nose hair?  I mean come on!  Sure we’ve gotten used to our hair gradually turning gray, our bodies sagging where they never sagged before, but really God— ear hair!  What did we do to deserve that?
 
As teenagers we coped with acne, gawkiness of limb, hormones going off the charts, girls becoming women before our very eyes, the promise and freedom of driving, and rebellion from authority. But we were uncertain about so many things, and we felt free to test the waters. We were becoming self aware like no other time in our lives  When we were young and part of the youth culture, the whole world lay before us. Now a good portion of that world lies behind us.

In our twenties we were embarking on our careers and beginning to raise our families. We had a path and a direction and we were still young. We were learning how to be grown-ups.

In our thirties and forties, we were in the thick of our careers. Our children were going through their own teenage angst, and we were thinking about approaching middle age. That’s when we started to notice some gray in our hair.

Pam's father, Walter Plumb
By our fifties those gray hairs may have outnumbered the brown, black, red or blond hair that we grew up with, and for many of us men, our hair had begun to thin. Our children were grown, and if we were lucky, were out of the house.  For some of us, the first grandchildren had made their appearance.

In our sixties, the uncertain certainty that we felt as teenagers returned with a vengeance. All of a sudden, nothing makes sense and the inmates are running the asylum. We find ourselves seeking out the early bird special at restaurants, we have absolutely no understanding of the music that our kids listen to, and our bodies are changing as dramatically as they did when we were teens.

Then one morning while performing our daily ablutions, there it is—ear hair.  ARRGGGG! 


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