Tag: baby boomer

Sitting Shiva for Mickey Mouse; Inclusion Doesn’t Mean Dissolution

Of all the nonsense Hollywood has foisted upon unsuspecting audiences the last few years destroying beloved movies, characters and great art of the past, I’d have to say Snow White has now set the standard for how low you can go. News to Disney: everyone who remembers how much they adored and embraced the wonderful fairy tale filled with funny-named dwarfs, a beautiful princess and a prince that wouldn’t give up on his true love, is pretty pissed at the mouse right now. Bigger news to Disney: inclusion doesn’t mean dissolution.

The message in Snow White was valuable. How else would we have known how love can heal, how attitude is the answer to everything, or how awful stepmothers could be, had we not been exposed to Snow White in our formative years?

Okay so the stepmother thing has been a bit of an exaggeration, but I will say I do have friends that will verify, but let’s not dwell on the negative here, shall we?

The lessons we learned from Snow White carried us through life. They were important, not trivial or outdated, and for any young person with no life experience except social media to somehow set themselves up as a judge and jury. To tell the public what we should learn from fairy tales that have lasted centuries, is truly idiotic. For those who don’t understand the concept, art imitates life. Whatever and whenever is portrayed is what we live that moment. Rewriting history never benefits the present. Even futuristic writings begin with the mindset of the moment.

I know you are thinking, tell us how you really feel Norma, but I am really saddened by what has happened to my precious Mouse. I am also so insulted to think I need Rachel Zegler to point the way to my moral compass. Seriously? When that entitled brat marches in Selma, watches a beloved president assassinated, or marches against a war, then and only then should she deign to tell others how they should think or feel. Mess with the Mouse and you push buttons I never even knew I possessed.

We all grew up trusting, loving, watching Mickey Mouse. He was a part of our childhoods filled with fun, characters, Mouseketeers, movies, Tinkerbell and Wonderful Worlds to explore.

We, learned, dreamed and visualized watching our Mouse and he never disappointed.

We knew that when Walt Disney did it; he did it best.

Mickey’s only truth was the story itself and staying true to the purpose, lessons and dreams to which each character spoke.

Snow White was never seen as a helpless girl who needed a prince to save her. She was a strong capable girl who survived a wicked woman intent on destroying her. These values currently regarded as archaic are now being misrepresented.

For it was not the fact the prince saved her from the Queen, it was the fact love saved her. That love triumphs over evil. Having the star of the movie espouse hate was a spectacularly bad idea.

The prince was merely a symbol of the power of love. Is that a concept of which we must now dispense because some media brat is ignorant of the message.

Yes, it’s true that women have had to fight for their place in society, or shall I say their new place in society? Yet it is most important to remember that those who forget the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat them.

If we erase all the old ways, old thinking from existence, how will we ever see how far we’ve come.

Shall we no longer allow cave men to exist because man now has supposedly evolved (I have my doubts about that one)? Or shall we only support and create art that mirrors life today? Is the past something we must relegate to the trash bin of history? Should we eliminate it all together to appease a small group of nuts that can’t bear to hear any sometimes unpleasant truths about life.

But my real problem is with Disney. The mouse was an icon, a symbol of family, love, learning and growth. Sunday night was The Wonderful World of Disney with the family. It wasn’t a habit, but a ritual.   This new way of thinking not only dishonors the Mouse, but all those who grew up believing he was a place of safety, fun and happiness.

Did the powers that be at Disney awaken one morning and say, “Sorry, Mickey, you’re too old now. We have to replace you with a new hipper, woke social-media friendly model.”

As a Baby Boomer I am offended by this attitude. Mickey still has much to say, much to teach and millions to entertain. We ain’t all dead yet and our wisdom is pretty valuable. We were woke a long time ago. Anyone remember the sixties?

Snow White was perfection. It was a fairy tale that taught about teamwork, positive energy, helping others through hard times. About protecting those you love and caution about who to trust.

Most importantly it taught us that the power of love isn’t defined by gender, race, creed or color. It is simply all powerful and healing.

Message to the execs at Disney that actually thought this was a good idea: We learned all these lessons over seventy years ago when this cartoon was first released. We don’t need any holier than thou corporate suits shoving it down our throats in a disrespectful and obnoxious manner. Mickey was the gold standard all along. Do not mess with the Mouse!

Sorry, Mickey that they have twisted and turned you into a mouse without a soul.  Perhaps someday they will wake up to what they’ve done and return you to your former glory. You had it right all along.

Peace Love and Rock ‘n’ Roll and a Piece of Apple Pie

Peace Love and Rock ‘n’ Roll and a

Piece of Apple Pie

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—

Little we see in Nature that is ours;…William Wordsworth

I watched a news report on AI, (Artificial Intelligence) the other day and ran for a bag of Oreos.

I always assumed artificial intelligence was how one described Congress, but apparently it isn’t. It’s actually really smart so boy was I off by miles.

Since I’m determined to reverse the tone for this piece and turn it into a happier read, I’m struggling to find a way to help myself and others achieve a sense of peace and acceptance over those things in life over which we have no control.

I’m no expert on how to live a great life, but I imagine there are some obvious problems we might tackle head on before the robot armies attack.

We need to reject those decisions that are made when we are, so to speak, out of the room and into which we have no input.

This whole AI and robot thing is kind of scarier than I thought it would be even when HAL took over the ship in 2001: A Space Odyssey. I always thought robots would be fun and helpful like my favorite of all time, Beep Beep Rosie. Boy could she swing a vacuum cleaner.

How do we cope and why is it important we must?

Well on a human level and to add some humor to this discussion, we need to cope because otherwise I’ll be five hundred pounds and the bakeries will run out of cookies and the pizza joints cheese.

I don’t give a damn about calories at all when I can justify eating day or night to mask fear.

Yes, I know I’m only adding to my problems, but one isn’t as bad as the other so I’ll keep eating for now.

Some people exhibit an innate ability to “deal” with crap life throws at us.

I’m not talking only about death, but the numerous other awful challenges we face as humans each day.

Somehow it seems life had more balance when we were younger. Although it’s true we lived through our share of craziness and horror. Viet Nam, the Chicago ’68 convention, cities burning,  Kent State, riots, new Coke, Yoko Ono and polyester; yet life seemed more balanced.

There were more parties, more laughter, more gatherings with family and friends back before the gloomy times.

When bad left, good came until our next go round with the dark forces.

Yet today it seems we must actively seek out ways to restore the balance. That negativity is winning the day.

Finding joy is like seeking out a truffle in the midst of a thousand pigs, when it used to seem more plentiful and easily available. Is it the times and is joy more elusive today?

So how do we restore order to the universe without bothering Yoda?

How do we awaken and dismiss the bad news, the insanity and have a good day despite turmoil?

I ask friends and it seems the answers are the same. Stop watching the news, find a new hobby, visit your grandchildren, volunteer, stop watching the news, visit your grandchildren, see a concert, take a trip and yes, see the grandchildren.

But we all know our children and grandkids have their own lives. We need to find a way to fill our days with more joy, less time to dredge up memories and ways to feel happy and upbeat.

Are you a lousy painter? Good, take up painting. Ever think about pottery? Why not? Make a vase to keep some beautiful flowers in and grow them yourself. If it’s lopsided who cares? Say it was intentional.

Swim, play bridge, canasta, maj jong, and go to classes at your local library.

I would love to apply for my dream job of shusher in the Sistine Chapel, where you only have to work every twenty minutes, but I doubt they’ll let a Jewish woman do that job.

We need to laugh more, be together more, have more tea parties, those little sandwiches and cakes are the best thing the British ever invented.

More than anything we need to love.

Life is a challenge today, at least as I see it. It’s a concerted effort to find harmony through tranquil endeavors.

To eliminate stress by avoiding stressful situations and a desire to restore peace, love and rock n roll to the world.

We could plan a Woodstock for the Baby Boomers and hear any bands still alive play?  We could pass out hearing aids, or take them off, and paint old VW vans. We’d wear flowers in our thinning hair and talk about how Gerry Rubin died a Republican and Abbie Hoffman killed himself. And Tom Hayden suffered a worse fate… he married Jane Fonda.

I guess it doesn’t matter how we achieve Nirvana as long as we do. And perhaps it’s not the achieving that will do the trick, but the actual seeking we need.

William Wordswoth wrote… “the world is too much with us”…I have never agreed more.

Now we must decide what life we want for ourselves. What world we wish to exist within. We have allowed others to choose for us and create a universe we’d rather not accept. They bully us into living within the walls of their insane reality. Even an artificial one.

Sure we all love our computers, and there are new technologies that are super cool, but this AI and robot thing, I don’t know…

We need to make the universe a better place ourselves, because I’m here to tell you the people we’re allowing to run this world are doing a piss poor job.

Gut the house and rebuild and I guarantee future generations will thank us. Send AI marching into oblivion and honor humanity and its gifts.

Excuse me, I have an apple pie in the oven and I’m churning the ice cream to go with it. Let’s see AI roll out the perfect pie crust.

The Smell of Burning Leaves

The Smell of Burning Leaves

If one mentions the word Trigger it quickly calls to my mind a picture of a golden horse with a white patch responding to its owner Roy Rogers. Different strokes I guess.

The brain is a strange little computer. We respond to the senses and a smell, taste, sound or a glimpse can evoke the most intense memory and catch us completely off guard.

One smell that induces the most extreme reaction for me is the smell of burning leaves. If there was a candle that smelled like burning leaves I may be tempted to keep it lit all day.

Occasionally I’ll smell something that reminds me of a fresh spring day after a rain and feel that sense of contentment spring brings, but it’s the burning leaves that stoke my flame of happy memories.

Growing up in the Midwest, autumn was such a happy time filled with sights, sounds and moments captured by one scent—burning leaves. It doesn’t induce a single recollection, but a torrent of memories, happy and heartwarming that bring me to a moment in childhood special and revered.

Autumn meant the beginning of school, new clothes and clean saddle shoes. A trip on the first day of school to the corner drugstore to pick out supplies, including a new loose leaf, pencils and a clean eraser. The excitement of a new school bag complete with clear, zippered pencil case and a fresh box of Crayolas, tips sharp and shiny.

Coming home after school and changing into play clothes then going outside to play with friends and watch the neighborhood boys play football in the street.

I can still picture a leaf gently falling and covering the green grass after turning the most exquisite shades of reds, oranges and yellows. The pure joy of crunching the leaves while walking to school and then jumping in them after my father raked them to the curb. Of hearing him grumble because I messed them up and he had to redo them, yet he was never really angry. I always suspected he wanted to do the same himself.

For me it also meant the Jewish holidays were near and I looked forward to meeting friends at synagogue then walking to the bagel factory after services. The fun of Halloween and choosing a costume, begging for candy and rushing home to look through and see what wonderful delights the treat bag held.

The smell of burning leaves promised Thanksgiving and turkey roasting in the oven while we watched the Macy’s parade on television. Then soon came Christmas, Hanukah and the smell of latkes would arrive with vacation time.

No mention of autumn could be complete without invoking the smell of freshly crushed apples at the Cider Mill. The giant wheel mashing apples into submission as they released their delicious juices then paired with hot cinnamon donuts in a grease-laden paper bag. Followed by a ride on a hay wagon into the orchard to soak up the autumn colors or climb ladders to pick the ripe fruit off their trees. No memory would be complete without the crunch of a caramel dipped apple on Halloween.

Yes, that’s a lot to put on a single smell, but that’s why burning leaves are so powerful. I’m certain if you ask any Baby Boomer what smell evokes autumn for them it will be the same.

There’s a certain comfort in memories now. When younger I never thought much about the past because I was too busy living in the present, and of course when one is young there is very little past to recall.

This past year when I’ve been forced to come face to face with my own mortality and had little ability to move my life forward as I’d have wished, the past seems so suddenly important. It’s as if I pulled out an old scrapbook filled with pictures and suddenly recalled how precious each snapshot has become.

Nostalgia has been a big part of how I’ve coped with this captivity because although I wasn’t free to travel outward, I could travel backward at my leisure. I could reflect at will upon those memories that had settled into the nooks and crannies of my brain and become hidden from view. Whenever a scent or sight drew them out of hiding I luxuriated in their warmth.

There has been a great deal of sharing with old friends on the phone and of course Facebook, and recalling time spent in childhood schools, stores and hometown haunts. Remembering my favorite foods makes me long for a local deli, great burgers or pizza, Chinese food on Sunday or a trip to the DQ. The burning leaves seem to be the magic carpet that transports me to the past, flying over childhood and once again absorbing the sights, smells and tastes of my youth. Filling me with the warmth so desperately needed in these cold, scary COVID days.

Even now when I’m walking and come upon a small pile of fallen dried leaves I will crunch them under my feet and feel a sense of satisfaction as the sound hits my ears.

Perhaps it isn’t the COVID that has captured my imagination and yearning for happier times. It may simply be a side effect of baby boomerism. I can’t say for sure what has created this new desire to share memories with those with whom I shared my youth, but it is a heady and incredibly magnetic feeling.

The question “do you remember” could probably be translated as, “oh, how I miss.”

Whatever the reason I shall always love the smell of burning leaves and the wonderful feelings they evoke and in this uncertain world, of that I am certain.