Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?

Hello World, Happy Thanksgiving! I hope that your big day of thanks was all that could have been hoped for, from the most hidebound traditions of Norman Rockwell and Tom Turkey, to the most radical experiences far removed from the mainstream, and everything in between - and the heck with The Holiday Police, because I stoutly maintain that there is no wrong way to celebrate. At my temporary job, they decided that they didn't need me on Friday after all (or just didn't want to pay me for the day) and in fact, made a point of mentioning several critical items they needed to get done, with the implication being that I would just "be in the way," and so I ended up having the day off when I wasn't expecting to. It was nice to have a long 4-day weekend to look forward to, but frankly, while it may have been long on appeal, I found it notably short on tactfulness, and thanks so very much not. In other holiday news, the Black Friday juggernaut continues to have its multitude of detractors chip away at it, however incrementally, but with dogged determination, and as relentless as rushing waters. The latest salvo to hit social media is OptOutside on Black Friday from our friends at REI, the outdoor adventure outfitters, who are turning their collective backs on rampant conspicuous consumption, and encouraging people to unplug, unwind, and enjoy the great outdoors instead. (Please feel free to go right ahead and visit their web site at www.rei.com and see for yourself.) Black Friday isn't technically a holiday, so The Holiday Police shouldn't have any quibbles with whatever people choose to do on the day, from working to shopping to any-old-anything-goes-with-a-cherry-on-top, but I think we can all agree that spending more quality time outside, while spending less money in overcrowded malls inside, can only be considered a good thing. Except perhaps by the President's economic advisers, that is. Speaking of the great outdoors, when I was going to work last week, I noticed a woman with a stroller and 2 toddlers on the sidewalk next to me. Since I was stopped at a traffic light, it gave me plenty of time to realize that the two tiny tykes were straggling along after her on foot, while the ample stroller was being occupied by her adorable schnauzer instead. Around our house, this is what we call a person with their priorities straight, and that's not just a shaggy dog story, Scooby Doo. Meanwhile on the home front, I'm not embarrassed to admit there's a dime on the floor downstairs in front of the washing machine that probably fell out of a pocket in some load of laundry, and has likely been just lounging around down there ever since, lo these many months gone by. I don't pick it up in case the day ever dawns that I want to climb into my Way-Back Machine, go back to the 1960's, and make a call from a pay phone. You can say that to young people nowadays, and they would have absolutely no idea what you were talking about. I don't doubt that our old friends the dinosaurs may be snickering in The Peanut Gallery, but unlike me, I know they can remember a time when phone calls were actually a nickel, before they shot all the way up to ten cents, and that's not just John D. Rockefeller talking, believe me. And speaking of old, our local newspaper has a real estate supplement once a week that is basically just a full-size advertisement for developers to hawk their listings, with a welter of pretty pictures and often fanciful artists' renderings of hypothetical future projects which may or may not ever actually see the light of day. In last week's section, The Retreat at Carmel wanted to let me know that their fully-appointed residences provided all the amenities that I could ever want for my active senior lifestyle, and sure to thrill the hearts of us old-timers on the prowl for carefree accommodations in a convivial community adapted to our elder needs. Not so fast! They obviously went to great lengths to come up with a much more diplomatic way of phrasing that, enticing us with their pragmatic features without hurting our feelings, which is no mean feat to pull off. But they were more than equal to the challenge, as they assured me this place was exactly perfect for what they described as "55 and better" homeowners to settle down in. I certainly admire their spirit of unbridled diplomacy, and I'm not sure that anybody could have come up with a kinder and gentler way of getting their point across without offending anyone's sensibilities. In fact, I'm ready to sign up right now - I already have my dime, now all I need is a 1960's pay phone, and I'll be all set. Say, who let John D. Rockefeller in here? Elle