Mature Life Features

Cecil Scaglione, Editor

AOL Can Go …

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… fly apart.

I have been one of their most-staunchest defenders, proclaiming loud and long how their benefits far outweigh any bane. I flew in the face of forward-looking critics and critiques touting more efficient cyberspace servers, proclaiming the tried and true methods of my long-time favorite.

NO MORE!!!

With an arrogance reminiscent of French royalty, they’ve managed to finally get rid of me and my support. They tried to BS us with a sales pitch about their latest and by-far-the-greatest innovation in cyberspace annals for a trivial monthly fee instead of being straightforward and pointing out service costs money and they have to charge for it, without even offering the choice of keeping what we had.

NO MORE!!!

I’m not going to hang around until they decide to raise that fee for their next innovative innovation.

 

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Written by Cecil Scaglione

September 10, 2017 at 3:03 pm

Early-Morning Episodes . . .

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. . . as seen on pre-breakfast bike rides around Gilbert, Arizona, include:

— a shout-out lime-green polyester shirt housing a pony-tailed blond skimming along a side-street sidewalk followed by her beau in black shorts, black T-shirt and black sandals pedaling a black high-handle-barred coaster bike.

— two grille-to-grille pickups plugging up a driveway and blocking half the street while the backed-into-the-drive vehicle sucks battery juice through what look like black straws from the truck with its back to traffic.

— power mowers competing against each other in green swards across the street from on another as landscapers trim bushes and blow leaves into piles before the sun gets angry.

— teens — bored, perched on curbs, chatting in couples, texting or gaming, a few even waving — gathered at school-bus stops.

— school buses boring into traffic without conscience.

— bikers in bike lanes with teeth gritted who rarely wave back as they bust their buttocks to beat their previous times or distances or both.

— assorted dog-walkers of all attitudes and attire with an endless array of breeds and behaviors.

— householders, a few holding their morning coffee, turning on or off their front-yard sprinkler systems.

— young mothers, mostly in vans, dropping their children off at all-day holding tanks.

 

 

 

 

 

Written by Cecil Scaglione

August 14, 2017 at 8:39 am

Reading maps backwards…

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… doesn’t help retrace your steps.

It turns out to be spam.

Written by Cecil Scaglione

August 3, 2017 at 7:40 am

Posted in Humor / Quote

Tagged with , , ,

Two types of people piss me off …

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… umpires and politicians.

 

At least I can have a beer with an umpire because they admit making mistakes

Written by Cecil Scaglione

August 1, 2017 at 8:43 am

The Secret of my Success . . .

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… is that everybody around me, anybody I’ve ever had contact with, anyone I’ve bought anything from — everyone who’se come within earshot of me — thinks they’re smarter than I am.

Written by Cecil Scaglione

July 4, 2017 at 8:27 am

Posted in A Musing, Humor / Quote

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Finally Found Out …

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… how to read traffic signals in Aridzona:

Red is JUST MISSED MAKING IT ACROSS THE ROAD.

Green is I’M GOING ACROSS THE ROAD.

Yellow is GO LIKE HELL TO GET ACROSS THE ROAD.

Written by Cecil Scaglione

June 21, 2017 at 7:57 am

Be it Ever so Jumbled — er, Humble

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We’re still asked – at least a couple of times a day – why we moved to Aridzona.

And have to explain away that look of askance when the questioners learn we’ve moved here from San Diego.

This move from paradisiacal Pacific Beach cooled by a breeze that’s kissed some 7,000 miles of ocean to the middle of Aridzona was seeded years ago when Bev began a campaign to move close to daughter and grandkids.

I saw no reason to leave the Golden State and the best climate in the galaxy until …

While delivering Meals on Wheels for more than nine years (woulda got my 10-year pin this summer), I watched a couple of dozen people struggle mightily to age in their homes. They were engaging and smiling when I first knocked on their door. Gradually, they would take a bit longer to answer, the house became darker and, soon after, strangers (caregivers — usually in hospital scrubs) would take the meal from me and the man of the house, or the woman, or both might wave from a chair as they oozed too quickly into a drooling sleeping lump. Instead of being cared for in a bright, active aging-assistance community by strangers, they were being cared for in their rotting residence by a series of strangers.

I didn’t want that to happen to me.

Memories and mental images also were recalled of trauma experienced by mentaly slipping family members when they were uprooted from their homes and transported to – “tossed into” is a more accurate description – senior “facilities.”

I didn’t want that to happen to me.

Late last year, Bev had spinal surgery to alleviate (and hopefully repair) nerve damage in her right arm and hand. While she was in hospital, I realized I probably cannot live alone for any length of time. When she came home and I had to minister to her after surgery. I also realized I couldn’t maintain that level of care if she needed it for any length of time.

So the decision was made to make a move. If we were going to move into what now is called an “independent living” community, we might as well look at moving in Bev’s direction – to Aridzona.

During our Christmas visit to the Grand Canyon State with the grandkids last year, I asked everyone – almost stopped people on the street — what they liked and didn’t like about the place. Without hesitation, they all pointed out that there are four months of hell – The Summer Heat. The rest of the year is great.

We knew from visiting that everything here is cheaper than in California — gasoline, health insurance, auto insurance, groceries, taxes, housing, everything.

One day in the shower, I looked down at one of my hands. It was the hand of an old man. I also realized that, should Bev fall, I could no longer pick her up. And, if I fell, she sure as heck couldn’t pick me up.

Friends and family concerned that we “weren’t ready” for an old-farts’ facility urged us to buy a condo before hurling ourselves pell mell into a senior citizens’ complex. That didn’t solve our picking-each-other-up dilemma. If we moved into a condo, we’d still have face a move into a senior citizens’ community. And when would we be “ready.”

We came to realize that folks move into such facilities either too early or too late. In our case, it was too early. BUT, we made our own decision..

And it was time.

–30–

 

Written by Cecil Scaglione

June 3, 2017 at 9:09 pm