I Got a New Attitude
by Maureen Broderick

Look out world, here come the baby boomers — this time as senior citizens. For the first time in history, senior citizens are becoming the majority of the population.

In a society that places so much importance on things that are historic, I ask you "How could we have devalued our old people?" Think about it, we adore the quaintness of old Victorian houses, pay outrageous prices to own an antique armoire, admire the beauty of an old brooch and we drool over that 1950 Cadillac. We use words like vintage and classic, even priceless. Yet we label our old people as weak and strained, weathered and tired.

It is time we started to appreciate real value in our old people — especially since I am now one of them. And for all you youngsters in the audience, I share my view on aging with you and hope that I can encourage you to avail yourself of the wisdom of seniors and go forth in life fearless and with enthusiasm.

Speaking of that fabulous Cadillac, it reminds me of our very life cycle. The Cadillac has four parts of operation: Ignition, Acceleration, Combustion, and Exhaust. When you think about it, we are much like that Cadillac.

I see my life consisting of four similar parts. Part one is childhood, the Ignition stage. In this stage of getting started, I found myself daydreaming about how great it would be when I was a teenager. I couldn't wait to wear makeup and dress like the models in Seventeen Magazine. I longed to be like my older sister and go out on dates. Chronologically, we are in our ignition stage until approximately age thirteen (although there are those few, like my first husband, who never got out of first gear!).

The second part is adolescence, or the Acceleration stage. During acceleration, we find ourselves hurrying through life and feeling more and more invincible. It started about age thirteen and ended abruptly at age nineteen when I got engaged. During those short teenage years, I pretended everything. With toilet paper in my bra, I pretended to be a B cup. I pretended to like boys, even though they still smelled and acted stupid. I pretended to fit in, even though I felt gawky, ugly and boring. But in spite of all this turbulence, I had many opportunities in my teens. I tried out for the school play and learned to sing in a choir. I had a second chance to pass algebra when my teacher so kindly flunked me on my first try. And I even managed to learn a thing or two — that is if you consider X + Y = knowledge!

Adolescence seemed to drag on forever when, in reality, it was gone in the blink of an eye. However, the third part of my life was EVER SO LONG! This was adulthood, or the automotive version known as Combustion. I didn't have to pretend to be older any longer. I had arrived on the scene and I felt my capabilities begin to explode! I was married, could vote, could legally drink and stay out as late as I liked. I was in my twenties and knew it all. Of course, that was until someone pulled one of my spark plugs! Soon I had a husband to tend to, children to mother, and a household to run. I wasn't all Ozzie and Harriet. Money was tight and stress was high. My combustion stage eventually took its toll. I didn't dream any longer about being a different age. Who had the time? I just lived, struggled and survived.

In my thirties, Life presented its greatest challenges: divorce and single parenthood. I was alone and scared. I no longer felt I knew anything. I spent most of my thirties questioning everything.

Who am I? What is my purpose? Where am I supposed to be going? A litany of questions that took me ten more years to realize had no answers. It wasn't until my forties that I realized these questions are moot. I am who I am. I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

As I approached part four of my life, better referred to as Exhaust, I started to panic. Oh my God, this is the end. I am 50 years old and on my way out! Hogwash! I truly believe this is the best part of my life. I just don't give a hoot anymore about pleasing everyone else. I am now over fifty-five and am proud to be a member of the Seniors crowd. This is the very first time I did not wish to be any other age. The Exhaust stage is showing me how to just let those little trivialities go, send them on their way, because they are not important enough for me to spend my valuable time on. I'd rather get on with living.

For those of you who are also in your exhaust stage, embrace it and let your newfound love of life be your guide. Shed the trivialities. Make more opportunities for yourself. Take chances and recognize the second ones. And most important, leave a legacy for our young people that their richest resource is the older people in their lives: we are living history.

The people who came before me showed me what old age was supposed to be — I watched crotchety old women push people out of line in the supermarket. I watched tired old men snarl at children who made too much noise on the bus. I watched bitterness instead of bittersweet and I realize that those seniors, who were in the minority, bought the LIE. I am determined to smash the negatives of age. We have the opportunity to change that for generations to come.

I intend on making the final part of my life a beginning. I feel alive and confident. I'm over fifty-five and have self-esteem. I'm like a thoroughbred — I have good teeth and great legs! I'm healthy and fun and I feel sexy and powerful. We don't grow old, we mature. We aren't senile, we see things in a new light. We don't alienate, we appreciate our uniqueness and take more time for ourselves. It's time to rethink and redefine the word OLD. We have to teach the youth of today to recognize the value of our wisdom. We can do this by not perpetuating a misconception — we can and should embrace our age and not bow down to establishment ideals. Let's not allow the media to define us as arrogant and nested wrinkled sexless beings. We are the majority and we can make a difference. We are now equipped with the ability to laugh at ourselves and savor our lives.

It has occurred to me in my reflection, that many great things consist of four parts. Singing is four-part harmony blended splendidly to produce beautiful sound. Spring, summer, winter, and fall combine to harmoniously create out weather. Ignition, Acceleration, Combustion, and Exhaust make up one fine running set of wheels. Life's four stages are woven perfectly together and for a purpose.

I now shout "Look out world, here we come — blind, crippled, or crazy, if we can't walk, then drag us cause we seniors are coming!" Now, that's my new and well-deserved attitude. Maturity is honored only on the condition that it defends itself and maintains its rights. We must accentuate the positives in our own lives. As much as we may try, we cannot eliminate the negatives. It now takes me, ah, about five minutes to just get out of bed, no longer bouncing from the covers. I'm accepting those senior moments — like going from one room into the next and then forgetting why. And let's face it, folks, everyone who is born will eventually die sometime. At least we can be more prepared than the next guy.

Until then, look out world; I'm coming at you with enthusiasm. I do not think of myself as old or antiquated — I AM A COLLECTIBLE now, priceless as ever and to be handled with care. As I look around this room I see many of my peers living in maturity with admirable panache. I also see many gifted young people in the audience and hope I have encouraged you to see our fountain of knowledge, use it and pass it on.

How do you see yourself? Therein lies the key. The world is your stage and act four is underway. You decide — will they applaud you for an encore or leave before the final curtain drops? I, for one, know they will scream "BRAVO."

Text of speech given at Philadelphia's First Toastmasters
Copyright © 2003 by Maureen Broderick

WwW

My Life Teachers
by Rita Smith

I am fortunate to have had many fine teachers in my life — some possessing intellectual brilliance and others possessing incredible common sense — a.k.a. wisdom.

I am not intellectually brilliant nor do I have the wisdom of a philosopher — but I have gleaned what I call "intellectual wisdom" from all of my teachers.

My life teachers include two loving parents, schoolteachers, religious people, employers and co-workers, friends and, of course, my fellow Toastmasters. I have evolved into the person I am thanks to the efforts of these people.

Recently another valuable teacher became an important part of my life. Perusing my local newspaper, I came across an article entitled The Power of Story. The article told of a local writer, Sandy Pesini, who invited women interested in journal writing to join her classes. I was definitely interested. I called several of my friends and we began meeting at Sandy's home on Friday evenings.

Sandy has become my writing facilitator, my inspiration and my teacher.

At each meeting, Sandy presents a variety of topics for us to write about. Our story topics have included Who I Was at Age 10-20-30-40, Why I Want to Write, The Memory of a Scent, Beginning Again, and My Favorite Memory of My Mother.

All of our writings are timed. Sandy's timer is set for 10, 15 or 20 minutes and we are told to start writing. Countless times we all chime in "I don't know what to write." Sandy will look at us patiently and say "Just start writing." And so we write...

The room becomes so quiet — all that can be heard is the scratching of our pencils on paper. Often, when the timer bell rings, we beg for just a couple more minutes to write.

Sandy says "Wrap it up girls" and she gives us 30 seconds to 'wrap it up.' We each take a turn and read our story. There are tears of sorrow and tears of laughter as we regale each other with our stories — our life experiences.

Sandy encourages us to relive our negative memories, but to add humor whenever possible. More often than not, we are relieved of the discomforting memories that we have carried over a lifetime.

There is something very therapeutic about sharing our stories. It is as though once a story is shared, it becomes a gift that we present to our self — a realization that our story is part of our past — it no longer remains hidden in our memory bank to taunt us.

Among our group of six women, there are ten or so assorted marriages and divorces, lost loves, alcoholic parents, mental illness and an unusual assortment of children and grandchildren. Although we were friends and acquaintances before our group assembled, through our shared writings we have become sisters and soul mates.

We call group the Serendipities — with the emphasis on the dipities. We have published the first volume of our stories: Reflections of the Heart. We also have our own website entitled Walk with Women. We plan to secure speaking engagements through our website links.

My Teacher, Sandy, has taught me that I am the only person in this world who has the ability to provide a clear, in-depth picture of who I am. She taught me that my stories are valuable — they can be from my life experiences or they can be created from my imagination.

I like stories with a message — stories that teach. Stories are one way that I can become the teacher. It is through my stories that I can express what is in my heart and on my mind.

Speech delivered at the Sunday Breakfast Speakers Club
January 2004
Copyright © 2004 by Rita Smith