GETTING OLDER – no need to hurry

It’s my birthday today – hitting 68. Is it a happy birthday? For me, it has never been a day that is extraordinarily more exuberant than any other day, as most days of my life have been and actually are rather happy. But of course, frosting drenched layer-cake and colorful-wrapped surprises, does make it a bit happier. But no matter the quantity of frosting, I am still getting older; at times that thought doesn’t make me overly happy – my free advice to you: don’t hurry getting older.

When we were kids we couldn’t get older fast enough. It was perhaps 16 that had a glow of excitement and freedom when we were 13. Then we hit 16 and 18 was the next goal covered in nirvana (not the band, but the emotion). After enjoying being 18 for a couple of minutes, 21 looked like the Holy Grail. But then I think it stopped – don’t you? I mean, when I was 35 I didn’t have any urges getting to 50 anytime soon. 

Asking a kid how old he or she is they go: “7-1/2 but I’ll be 8”, already involving that next year into the answer. I giggle and get an uneasy eye-rolling smirk on my face when an ‘older’ person responds: “67 but I’ll be 68…” yeah ‘duh’, if you live that long. What’s bothering me is the dreaded reality of actually hitting that additional year, which we underline by birthdays; it’s iffy because it’s part of getting older – and I don’t think I want to, so take that...

I use the term ‘older’ and not ‘old’, because I don’t really know what ‘old’ means. A joke can be old, as in worn out, boring and told too many times. As far as I know, ‘old’ has not been established as a measure of age, like we hit 68 and now we are officially ‘old’ – or something like that (I hope not)… Sure King Tut could be filed under ‘old’, but to me he is simply: ‘extremely very older’. Sounds better, don’t you think?

Okay, all this sounds perhaps a bit down and depressing, but in reality it’s not – just some deeper birthday thoughts. You see, for an ‘old fart’, sorry it should be: ‘older fart’ like me, I’m in a good place. I do not have any health issues; I exercise daily, I eat healthy with the occasional binge-inhalation of Redvines or any form of sugar-based soft candy-like stuff; I do not smoke (anything) and alcohol is only consumed in the form of wine and the occasional micro-brewed beer.

When I hit 50 I started to think ‘older’, perhaps from the realization that my life was no doubt half done by then. And when you are a healthy, happy and a productive human being at that age, that thought might be an issue of concern due to its morbidity. But on the other foot, I have always had ways of moving negative thoughts into something positive.

So when I hit 50 I got my lists together and wrote everything down that I found negative in my life (and options to solve or dispose of), as well as everything positive – and there was a lot of that. After I finished the lists, the positives outweighed the negatives by a million miles (that would be 1,6 million kilometers, by the way), still, by a lot - you get the idea. After that exercise, 50 did not look bad at all.

There are so many things I enjoy and have enjoyed beyond my expectations as I am getting older. So many things I have found pleasures in, things in my ‘earlier’ life I had bypassed due to self-inflicted time-limits, seeking something more profitable during those times – so a lot of great stuff got overlooked. By now I have revisited many of those earlier neglected items. 

Don’t get me wrong and believe to any extent that I have more time to myself today, than I had back in those earlier days. My days are full of it (that would be stuff to do), and my pre-retirement visions of relaxed afternoons by the fountain in the back-yard, a glass of chilled white-wine and a good book? I found they were just that – visions. But this is not a complaint, because when all my whining is out of the way, I am still in control of my own time these days – but there are still other things that must be done, have to be done. But it’s still my choice ‘when’; well, for the most part.

I have found enhanced interest in the things I was interested in as a younger person. I have liked art and art history from I was in my late twenties. I was more or less breastfed with interest in music; I have always liked reading, for the most part non-fiction, but also well-written fiction and photography is a main interest. I like to write stuff – and I am getting better at it as I get older; perhaps getting ‘more mature’ plays a part.

Of the many things I have pondered and learned through my life, one stands out. When talking ‘older’ as in reaching birthday after birthday: DO NOT HURRY. If I could do my younger life over, of course with the experience and appreciation I have today (duh), it would be rather different in the WOW department.

 Unfortunately the deal is that we are not blessed with too much experience or knowledge early on. Appreciating our surroundings has to be earned by learned; and that takes time. To me, that is not fair at all, as what I know now would have made me a much more productive and even more ‘enjoying’ human being back then. But at least I enjoy a lot of that ‘stuff’ now that I couldn’t fully enjoy way back then.

Don’t hurry getting older, but thoroughly and fully (at least make a big effort) enjoy where you are now. Open your eyes and your mind even more so; don’t be caught looking at your smart phone more than you are looking at your friends. And talking about ‘looking’, make sure that you take it all in, your surroundings, the times with family and the times alone. Listen more than talking as you will learn a lot more by closing your mouth and open your mind. Never take anything or anybody for granted. Make sure you have the best relationship with the most important person in your life – and that is you. 

I like my previous 67 years, warts and all. And ‘yes’ I would do it all over again, warts and all. There are a couple of things I did I would like to apologize for; no, nothing criminal, thank you. But I would still do it all again, because those first 67 years (like there will be a second set of 67 years) were really good.

So I advice you not to hurry; stop and smell the proverbial roses, inhale whatever you are doing (legal stuff only) and enjoy where you are in your life, create more positives than negatives. No matter how busy you are, don’t pass all this fantastic stuff on the way – those many magic moments you should be able to look back at and treasure when you hit 68 - just like I do today. So the above said and done, perhaps it will be a HAPPY BIRTHDAY, after all.

SECRETS – nearly impossible to keep

If I have a secret and decide to tell you what it is, what I’m concerned, it is not a secret anymore. But the official definition of secret is hiding information from certain individuals or groups, so my much more logical philosophy doesn’t hold water – but it should, don’t you think?

When looking up the word secret in books that explain words like that, you are quickly guided to secrecy, which fans out to clandestinely and furtiveness, both challenging tongue-twisters; say each word six times really fast and you might never be able to untangle your tongue.

 Clandestinely is an adjective invented back in the days (1528) and explains “marked by, held in or conducted in secrecy”; like love affairs, and stuff like that – not something everyone should know about, huh? Furtiveness is from around 1612 and means “done by stealth / obtained underhandedly”. What I’m concerned, nobody got it right - well, except me; but you decide, of course.

We all have secrets; some are juicy (my favorites) and others are just utterly boring. Our secrets are about things we do not want to share with anybody, not even Fluffy, the family bunny, because you never know, do you? It’s stuff about ourselves, stuff about people around us, things we do, have done and might want to do, very personal opinions, thoughts and so forth – all sensitive stuff. 

Sharing any little bit of this with others, could be embarrassing, devastating for us and/or the person/people around us. These are secrets we must hold on to and definitely want to keep to ourselves – if we want to keep the peace.

Do I have secrets like that? Of course. Would I share them with you? Are you mad? Besides, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore if I did, would it? But my secrets are not really juicy, mystical or very exciting; they are more so opinions and thoughts I prefer to keep to myself, stuff that wouldn’t improve anything if revealed or make things bad. Yeah, not very exciting, huh? It’s just stuff that I believe we all carry around, and for the most part, keeping these secrets to ourselves is the ticket.

We keep secrets for many reasons. It could be based on shame, on fears, on hurtfulness, acceptance or just common sense. Some things are better not said, I truly believe in that. This should not be misconstrued as being fake, dishonest or cowardly holding back information; the term diplomacy comes to mind.

As mentioned above, the official explanation of secret/secrecy is when we hide information from certain individuals or groups. Family secrets can cover many issues, but that Uncle Ed is a jerk is hard to keep secret. Governments are hiding all kinds of stuff from us, at times stuff we wonder why it was hidden in the first place, why it was packed in secrecy. Corporate secrecy can be rather extensive and of course there are a lot of secrets the corporate world do not want consumers to know about – a huge lot, which is very scary. 

Technology secrets are massive and very much in demand, with corporate spying and worldwide networks of groups doing their very best getting/stealing any of these secrets, at any cost. Military secrets are so vast an area and pretty much every single nation are trying to extract these secrets from each other, even from the ones they call their friends and allied (please remember: these are all adults, which is even more scary). 

But what’s up with Top Secret? Now, if I’m not totally dizzy, when a secret is already a secret, how much more secret can it be? Is Top Secret more secret then a basic secret? Does it mean that I should keep my mouth totally shut trying desperately to keep a Top Secret and perhaps it’s okay to let my mouth run a bit concerning a basic secret? Does Top Secret mean that we also have a Bottom Secret? I didn’t think so; I’m convinced Top Secret was only invented to make movies and spy-novels more exciting.

Officially secrets and secrecy mean sharing information only with certain individuals and groups. So if you are an official secret-holder, not following my interpretation (which of course you should, duh), I hereby officially warn you to always be utterly careful with whom you share your secrets with. Be extremely cautious, especially if it’s a secret that you do NOT want to go any further.  Remember, that since you couldn’t keep this secret to yourself, the person you pass it on to cannot either. 

Confession: on the keeping secrets scale, I am as way down below the bottom-line as you can get. So many times (as in ‘all the time’) I plan something exciting or bought stuff or done stuff for my wife that was supposed to be a secret (as in: surprise) for 30+ years of blissful marriage, I have not been able to keep it to myself – always exposing the (secrets) surprises way ahead of time. Oh well, if nothing else, do I get points for consistency?

  

If you are near exploding concerning a secret you have, I suggest you take a deep breath and reconsider the damage it might cause, before you let it out. Remember that everybody around you has the same darn problem concerning leaking secrets – especially if the secret is not their own. Also remember that the secret you tell somebody will no doubt be retold very differently and so forth. An ongoing retold secret can go from Uncle Ed being a jerk to Aunt Winnie winning the Nobel Peace Prize (which still leaves Uncle Ed a jerk – because that has never been a secret).

I trust we all have some secrets we are not comfortable to share for good reasons; personal stuff, thoughts about, opinions and what-not. And I am fine with people around me not sharing these secrets with me; and perhaps lucky?

I don’t have many secrets as I am a fairly straight-forward and out-spoken person; at times too out-spoken, I’m told. So keeping secrets is not my strongest side – at all. I don’t think my wife has any secrets, if so only very few; she is utterly honest and most people are like that – I believe.

If you have any secrets you can’t keep to yourself anymore, this is your chance to get them out worldwide as this blog has over 26,000 readers from 122 countries – so feel free to place those dark, deep and juicy secrets as a comment, and let’m rip, okay? (I can’t wait). And of course you don’t have to use your real name – as that would be utterly stupid - duh…

DISCLAIMER: If any of you have an Uncle Ed in your family, I’m sorry I made him a jerk, especially if he is not – but remember, to me he is just a person I made up. I’m sure there are a lot of nice Uncle Ed’s out there.

MAD MAGAZINE – my visit in 1974

If you never experienced the comic MAD Magazine during the time it was directed and controlled by William Gaines, the publisher and founder from 1952 till 1992, you have really missed out. This great publication was utterly hilariously funny, in an intelligent, sarcastic and smart-ass weird kind of way. As I was determined to learn English really fast as a boy growing up in Denmark, I found great help reading MAD, as well as looking at the pictures in Playboy Magazine – MAD was a lot funnier.

I was about 11 or 12 years old when I ran into the first copy of MAD – in English, of course. I recall that the humor was extreme, even for a Dane. The cartoon drawings were fantastic and so funny. I was a big fan immediately, even though there were a lot of words and phrases that I didn’t get, as the punchlines were American and referring to people and situations going on in – well, America. So the English dictionary was solicited extensively – a lot.

As time rolled by and my English vocabulary grew; the enjoyment of reading MAD reached new levels. I used the term “What – me worry” – a lot, which was used by MAD mascot Alfred E. Newman, gap-toothed and all. I would have liked to show a picture of him to those deprived of never have seen Alfred, but the thought of being sued, jail-time on water and bread, refrain me to do so. So Google him…

Years later I found that MAD was now translated into Danish; not a good idea. MAD Magazine had agreed to distribution in several countries, published in the respective languages, adding some local stuff ‘in the spirit’ of the original MAD. Though I am a grand fan of Danish humor – as Danish humor is quick, intelligent, intriguing and above all, extremely funny, the Danish rendition of MAD Magazine was flat and utterly helpless; I was extremely disappointed – as well as utterly embarrassed – a lot.

So I decided to send a letter to William Gaines and the ‘usual gang of idiots’ as the magazine described its own contributors. In the letter I stated my confusion with respect to the lack of humor in the Danish MAD and how the so-called translators totally screwed up the American MAD – successfully translating really funny lines into duds, totally misunderstanding the intentions of the sarcasm, etc.; it was an angry letter (with tongue-in-cheek).

As I had planned a trip to the USA (my first ever – 1974), I informed William Gaines that I would be in New York that summer, and perhaps we should get together and talk about this fouled-up atrocity. The letter got mailed and then I pretty much forgot all about it.

Many weeks went by and then a letter arrived from America – the sender: MAD Magazine. It was a copy of the letter I had sent to them (typewriter written – remember them things?) All over that copy were rubber-stamping stamps, most of which were ‘cartoon’ like. Next to my comment about stopping the Danish MAD publications immediately, the red ink showed a drawing of a mad-looking Gaines, long hair, beard and all, with the word NO.  By the “I’ll be in New York…” was a happy faced Gaines and YES. “Let us know the dates…” was handwritten.

No, unfortunately I did not keep this letter and a lot of other letters and stuff from those years. In retrospect, and I’m good at that, it has always been a thorn in my eye. I used to have a lot of Beatles stuff that today would have been worth some serious money, but such is life, my life, also. So on that happy note, I’ll take a deep breath and on with the story.

My girlfriend at the time (Californian, who I’d met in Copenhagen a few years earlier) and I started our USA-visit in New York. The morning after we arrived, it was time to visit MAD Magazine. If my memory doesn’t totally blank out, the number was 485 (not that it matters at all – just trying to impress you…), but I know for sure that it was on MADison Avenue – of course. We took the elevator several floors up and found ourselves in a small enclosed entry area, no windows and only two doors, the one we entered through and then – could it be?

I knocked a bit hesitantly – nothing. Then I knocked somewhat harder – nothing. “Was the appointment today?” I asked Andee; she nodded (I think). The third time the knocking no doubt startled most of Manhattan and finally the door opened slowly. “Yes?” a female voice asked. “We have an appointment with Mr. Gaines…” I cracked in my still heavy Danish accent. The door closed immediately and then nothing.

The door finally opened again and I recognized the face of Dave Berg, cartoonist of “The Lighter Side of Life”. He asked in a really slow and loud voice: “Who are you?” “I’m Peter from Denmark”… The door blew open and Dave smiled and showed us in. “We can never be too careful” he said. We all shook hands and some of the other MAD artists who worked in the office that day came by and introduced themselves. You can understand how blown away I was – here were my heroes (dare I say: role-models?) and I got to chat with them for the longest time.

We were offered a glass of water and Dave Berg informed us, that it might taste a bit strange as William Gaines one morning had filled the water-coolers with white-wine; it was gone within a day; I wish I had been there.

Then Jerry DeFuccio who I knew as one of the editors came out of his office. The nicest man you could ever meet. He also had the role of ‘entertaining’ visitors, kind of a Walmart greeter – but a lot better and more personal. After the introductions Jerry immediately started talking about his Danish girlfriend – small world, huh?

I remember Dave Berg approaching me soon after we arrived; he looked a bit uncomfortable, but finally said: “Can I give you a hug as thanks for what the Danes did for the Danish Jews during the German occupation?” I said “of course”, though I had nothing to do with it. For those of you who do not know (and that would be most of you), when the Germans finally decided, during the occupation of Denmark (1940-1945) to round up the Danish Jews and put them in concentration camps, a large group of your average Danish citizens helped hide the Danish Jews and then helped them escape to Sweden. Only a few hundred Jews was captured (still too many, of course) out of 7-8,000. So Dave Berg wanted to hug me as thanks – he was a good hugger, as far as I recall.

And then it was time to visit the Holy Grail, AKA: Publisher William Gaines. We entered his office and that was an experience all by itself. His large desk, with hundreds of rubber stamps, was to the left – and there he was in all his might, long hair, large beard and a big smile.

On the end wall, towards Madison Avenue, were three big floor-to-ceiling windows. Filling out the middle window was a three dimensional face of King Kong, huge fangs and vicious looking eyes. In the windows to the left and right were the biggest King Kong paws gripping on, like he wanted to enter the building – really cool and so funny.

We spent over 2 hours with ‘Bill’ in the office and later went out to a late lunch with him, Jerry and Dave Berg. It was so unreal – and a once in a lifetime experience, for sure. (Danish MAD was hibernating at the time we visited New York, but later on popped up for a few years, disappeared and popped up again, etc.) Obviously nobody followed my advice - duh...

I kept in contact with Jerry DeFuccio for many years after that visit. When we got back from the America trip, there were about 15 boxes filled with hundreds of MAD books, 3-4 copies of each that Jerry had mailed to us – I never figured out why – he was just such a nice person, and funny, too.

And all this from a letter of complaint – perhaps you should try it sometime; you never know what can happen, huh?

RIP, please: Al Feldstein was one of the editors that we also met. He reigned during MAD’s most popular times in the 1960’s and 1970’s, for 29 years. Al was the driving force of getting the ‘usual gang of idiots’ together: Don Martin, Sergio Aragones, Dave Berg and Al Jaffee – to me, the REAL MAD men, by far…

Al died at the age of 88, April 29^th, 2014

MOTHER’S DAY – should be every day, huh?

Mother’s Day is big business and not just here in the USA. In every country where this holiday is celebrated, noisy cash-registers and large profits go hand-in-hand. Rolling out raw cynicism, no problem in this case, I am appalled because as consumers, we are ‘advised’ that this is for our mothers, so how dare we not spend billions in any currency to celebrate her? There is nothing like guilt to get us going, unfortunately. But of course, you and I are not tricked so easily - are you?

Anna Jarvis started a campaign back in the days (that would be 1905) to make Mother’s Day a recognized holiday here in the USA. Persistent Anna succeeded and the first Mother’s Day holiday was in 1908. With a slogan like: “The person who has done more for you than anyone else in the world”, you would run out and get a huge bunch of overpriced roses immediately - wouldn’t you?

I’m okay with ‘holidays’ or more so ‘days of remembrance’; for the most part they have a sincere importance and a true purpose historically – something we must not forget, a time, a place or a person of the past we should keep honoring and truly remember for various reasons; but shouldn't we 'remember' mom every day?

The commercialization of Mother’s Day and the like (Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day and so forth) is so out of hand. Sure none of those mothers (or fathers or those involved on Valentine’s Day) has anything against the attention, the chocolate or the flowery arrangements, so I’m fine with that. But seriously to me, the other 364 days of the year are also Mother’s Days – or at least they should be; don’t you think?

I have been fortunate to have had and still have a good relationship with my Mother. It sounds blasé when I tell you that we are more-so friends than we are parent/child, but that is the truth and how it has felt for so long. We have always had great respect for each other and have never even tried to interfere in each others lives. Perhaps my Mother communicated more specific issues when I was a kid, but I cannot remember that. As I grew up and out of school and into the world of labor and career, I cannot recall a single time my Mother questioned what I was doing or that she ever came up with ‘career’ suggestions about this or that – not a single time.

I always found that my Mother approved of what I was involved with, and who I personally connected to. I cannot recall a single incident where my Mother tried to correct my choices – not a single time. Okay, so now she sounds like Mother Theresa’s twin-sister; and that just makes me smile – and perhaps agree?

My Mother lives in a nice elder-care facility in Denmark. She was diagnosed with dementia some years back. She cannot remember what you just told her or what she did a minute ago, but she does have some long-term memory intact. It was her birthday a few days back and she figured out that she is 94 because she can remember she was born in 1920. 

I call my Mother 3-4 times every week (you chat with your mother often? The ‘guilt’ thing, huh?) Before the dementia diagnoses, we would chat about 20-30 minutes on an average; opinions, stories and updates flying back and forth. I still call my Mother 3-4 times every week, but our calls are more like 5-10 minutes; I learned quickly not to challenge her memory, but more-so tell her how we are doing here, around the house, trips, travel and trivial things; about the boys, the pets, what we experience, etc. She likes that; but the very moment she hangs up, she cannot remember a thing.

MY MOTHER

I love my Mother – a lot. There are a lot of her character, her values and her decency that I see in myself. No, giggling reader, I’m not Mother Theresa’s brother to any extent, but when I look at where more of ME came from, it’s from my Mother, not from my Father. 

I find myself celebrating my Mother a lot. From our conversations, no matter how limited they have been in substance the last many years, through the weekly letter I write and mail her, but also from all the other chats, from so many calls and visits through our life together – going on nearly 68 years (OMG what the heck happened?) So in a way, and trying desperately not to sound fluffy, there is a bit of Mother’s Day in every day – for me and her; and then I tell her – because I also love her all those other 364 days; sounds familiar?

Mother’s Day has been ‘adopted’ by nations all over the world. Though the countries of Scandinavia are pretty good pals and work together on many issues, streamlining that part of the world, I’m sorry to say that synchronizing the time for Mother’s Day has failed. This year Denmark is doing the USA thing by announcing Mother’s Day on May 11. Sweden is doing it a tad later on May 25 and Norway decided that Mother’s Day should be in the armpit of winter, so why not February 9.

And back to Anna Jarvis. It didn’t take long from the installation of Mother’s Day, for business’ to see the huge possibilities and profits, so they quickly started the (non-romantic) commercialization of this day, which happened about 9 to 10 years after 1908. As the initial idea Anna had concerning celebrating mothers drowned in commercialism, she got in a crappy mood and spent a lot of time fighting to get the profiteers off the streets. She was so angry, that just shortly before she died at the age of 84, she got herself arrested for disturbing the peace, while demonstrating against Mother’s Day’s commercialism – way to go, Anna.

We have all been connected to a mother at some point. Some mothers vanished on the way; some didn’t make good parents and perhaps other issues that doesn’t cause for celebration. But to all you good mothers out there, you have been and you are doing terrific jobs. Motherhood is not a piece of cake to any extent, as so much is involved, too much to even touch here. The proverbial hundreds of hats you are wearing is a book all by itself.

Parenthood by itself is not easy when you want to do a good job. Motherhood is not easy at all – no matter what. I have the greatest respect for any mother; I am in awe as to how they make it work, as so much is involved on so many levels. I see pregnant women and how they glow expectations and how utterly beautiful they are. And then I see the feeling of trust and utter commitment in their faces, that no matter what, they will work hard to become the best caring mother ever. 

The nurturing, the caring and care, the love and the respect coming from our mothers, has been and is so essential for all of us. So only one day of acknowledgement? Let's make it 365, shall we?

So to all you great mothers:

HAPPY MOTHER’S 365-DAYS A YEAR DAY