Rushing's Ramblings

One of the many depressing facts of aging is the sight of musicians you adored when you were young but are now in the final stages of their lives. When you’re frequently around friends your age, you don’t even think about how old they look. It’s one thing to look at yourself in the mirror (but not too closely) while gradually adjusting to your own aging and that of your friends. Conversely, Willie Nelson, Keith Richards, and Mick Jagger always looked old. Drugs, alcohol, the road, and women will age you faster than you can snort a hit of cocaine. I saw Willie at a fundraiser for Beto last year. I could not believe how diminutive and frail he looked, yet, to this day, he continues doing his thing at age 90. He’s an inspiration for all of us geezers. We never saw John Denver past age 53, and I must admit I still weep when I listen to his music. I wouldn’t care how old he would look now; I would love to hear him perform one more time. In my mind’s eye, he will always be "forever youn

I swore six months ago that I would never date again after the last so-called relationship ended. There were many enjoyable times together, and I deeply cared for him. Still, it wasn't going anywhere due to more than the two of us in the relationship, if you know what I mean. And it wasn't just the last one; it was the culmination of the handful of men I've met over the past 5 years that were never suitable matches, even in my wildest imagination. I must be a slow learner, but as I recently told female friends, I enjoy occasional male companionship for lunch, musical events, and chit-chat. I was on the precipice of trying again. I began exchanging emails and texts with a fellow writer in this frame of mind. He read several of my books and told me I wrote well. I read his unpublished novella and short stories. His work was creative and bordered on brilliance. We are the same age and unattached, so meeting for coffee would be the next step. Our shared love of writing shoul

  Am I a complainer if I complain about complainers complaining constantly? Join a particular group of women here, and the same complaints continuously surface. Most women in that group were the first residents when the building opened and was owned by a different company. They were given many perks before the building was sold a year ago and need help to adjust to the new management/ownership. Recent highlights from a gathering of the original renters: 1. "My window keeps falling out when I open it, and the maintenance staff tries to fix it, but it’s still loose." (Hint: Don’t open the window. Some things can’t be fixed. This building was thrown together during COVID when there was a shortage of workers, and the owners wanted to quickly open it to start making some money. It also explains why they wanted to sell it within months after it opened.) 2. "There’s no coffee in the common area." (I’ve heard this over a hundred times and only lived here 10 months. Thi

  It’s no surprise that I love talking about politics. Still, I wouldn't say I like debating with anyone on either extreme of the political divide, particularly the far, far-out right. Republicans are acceptable if they don’t start repeating conspiracy theories or supporting Trump. They are too far gone for me to spend one minute of my time. Unless I’m around like-minds, I usually keep my mouth shut. Conversely, I'm not too fond of superficial chatter and quickly get bored or annoyed. I know. I’m not exactly everyone’s cup of tea. Hence I live alone. The coffee group here is composed of good-hearted people. However, one or two are entering the initial stages of cognitive decline. One even mentioned that she couldn’t remember how many presidents we’ve had since the COVID pandemic. It’s coming for all of us but not an issue currently for most geezers here. After all, this isn’t an independent or assisted living facility and certainly not a nursing home. Meals aren’t provid

When you least expect it, someone will teach you something new, even though every fiber of your being fights against it. There’s some psychobabble out there regarding people who mistreat you and learning that their behavior isn’t about you. I’m unsure if that’s entirely true, but I’ve occasionally been on the wrong end and taken it very personally. I usually confront it or flee as quickly as possible to protect both of us. When I moved into my new apartment, the woman next door, Dawn, wouldn’t speak to me even though I expressed a hearty “hello” as I was schlepping box after box into my apartment. Our postage stamp-size yards are adjacent with respective gates leading to our cars, so encountering each other is not unusual. Plus, Dawn has the yappiest dog that freaks out whenever his mistress leaves her apartment. I often admonished the dog and would tell it to shut it. After being spurned the first time, several months would pass before I acknowledged Dawn. I’m ashamed of my be

The people living here aren't always funny, nor are they always annoying. All of us are of a certain age and acutely aware of time’s ticking clock. There aren’t many ticks left for us, and the periodic appearance of ambulances reminds us that time is whizzing by at breakneck speed. Susan moved in with her old black lab, Bella, about two months ago. Susan and I met in the dog park several times and enjoyed each other’s company while I endlessly petted Bella. She had expressive eyes full of love, and I instinctively knew she didn’t have that long to live. It was apparent that walking was painful for Bella and her mistress. Still, we both enjoyed seeing Paddy and her son’s young Golden Retriever play. Today, Susan and her son were walking toward Paddy and me. The Golden Retriever happily greeted Paddy, and the son held one of the cutest Shih Tzu puppies you ever saw. When I asked about Bella, Susan started crying. Susan shared that she knew Bella was in pain and was having treme

Here we are again. Texas is the Wild Wild West, while our esteemed governor "prays" for the victims and their families but does nothing, as usual. Meanwhile, the NRA, funded partly by Russian operatives, has bought legislators to ensure nothing is done about guns. The following is by Professor Heather Cox Richardson, who teaches history at Boston College: "By 2000, the NRA was one of the three most powerful lobbies in Washington. It spent more than $40 million on the 2008 election. In that year, the landmark Supreme Court decision of District of Columbia v. Heller struck down gun regulations and declared that the Second Amendment protects an individual’s right to keep and bear arms. Increasingly, NRA money-backed Republican candidates. In 2012 the NRA spent $9 million in the presidential election, and in 2014 it spent $13 million. Then, in 2016, it spent over $50 million on Republican candidates, including more than $30 million on Trump’s effort to win the White House.

Shared with Your friends My paternal grandfather, grandmother, and four young children, with another one in the grave and one on the way, were going through hard times, as was the rest of the country during the Great Depression. They were sharecroppers on hardscrabble soil in the middle of nowhere East Texas. Rural America was hit particularly hard. The only food source was from a garden and the few chickens they raised. My grandmother, a canning expert, saved them through the cold winters. As a child, I remember hundreds of canned fruit and vegetables in the cellar behind her home in Memphis, Texas. The cellar also became her refuge when frequent thunderstorms and tornadoes blew through the town. My grandfather must have felt helpless as he watched his family slowly inch toward starvation. As the family gathered around the radio one afternoon in 1933, President Roosevelt announced his Civilian Conservation Corps program. The CCC’s goal was to provide employment to poor, unmarrie

After living here for 10 months, I’ve experienced apartment life on a whole ‘nother level. I’m unsure if it’s good or bad, but it’s my reality, at least for now. I’ve avoided the coffee group in the mornings for the past 7 months due to one resident’s proclivity in September for mingling with fellow residents while looking like hell, vomiting in the hallway, sneezing, and coughing. And when offered a Covid test, she refused. Plus, she emailed me, copied 5 other residents, and apologized for not hearing me when offered a test. I “replied all” and reminded her that she twice refused my tests and told me that if she tested positive, she wouldn’t be free to socialize with others due to quarantining. I avoid narcissists and liars, so I have been somewhat of a recluse this winter while she’s roaming the halls and getting into everyone’s business. I don’t want her germs, nor do I want her in my business, albeit a very boring one at that. At age 80 plus, I suppose she figures she’s earned