I just turned 79, I’ve been reflecting on the joys, surprises, and yes, the challenges that come with aging. But here’s the thing: every wrinkle has a story, every ache a lesson, and every gray hair (or in my case, white!) a badge of honor.

I’m setting out on a new journey to become an influencer on aging gracefully. I want to share health tips, funny moments, and the unexpected surprises that come with growing older. More importantly, I want to talk about what we all share as we age—the common threads that connect us and the little things that make us laugh, cry, or shake our heads in disbelief.

Let’s start a conversation! What’s one surprising or funny thing you’ve noticed as you age? Share your story—I can’t wait to hear from you.
Here’s to embracing every stage of life with humor, grace, and a touch of wisdom!

New Year, New Jeans? Let’s Talk About Size!

Happy New Year! As we step into 2025, I have a question for you: how many jean sizes are in your closet? Are you rocking the “fat,” “medium,” or “skinny” fit these days?

For some context, the average waist size for a man in the U.S. is 39.7 inches. According to a study the average woman in the US is a size 16.

Are you feeling comfortable with your current size, or are you part of the growing group—1 in 8 Americans—currently using GLP-1 injections to manage weight or health goals?

No matter where you are on your journey, the new year is a great time to assess, reset, and focus on what makes you feel your best. I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences. Let’s spark a conversation about health, confidence, and embracing the changes life brings!

Here’s to a year of wellness and self-discovery!

Let’s break this down for a second. Would someone say that to a 30-year-old? Nope. Once you hit a certain milestone, it’s like people suddenly feel compelled to grade you on a curve.

And let’s be real—what they’re really saying is, “Wow, I thought you’d look much worse by now.” 

Here’s my favorite way to respond: Flash your brightest smile, stand tall, and say, “Oh, I’ve always looked good, but thank you!”

Because beauty isn’t about age. It’s about confidence, charisma, and maybe just the right lipstick. 

So the next time someone gives you that backhanded compliment, own it. After all, we’ve earned every laugh line and every sparkle of wisdom. And guess what? We’re rocking it. 

Ageism has become a hot topic these days, with many voices expressing
frustration about how older adults are treated unfairly. But here’s a question: Does playing the victim and feeding the narrative that older adults are entitled actually help anyone? Spoiler alert—it doesn’t. If anything, it makes older adults appear helpless and perpetuates negative stereotypes.

At 79, I live a very active life despite having faced significant health challenges. I’ve battled a rare form of uterine cancer, breast cancer, and kidney disease. Both of my knees have been replaced—a painful recovery process, but one I conquered. Today, I’m back in the gym working out every day, pain-free.

Having spent much of my career working in the aging network, I’ve seen firsthand how harmful prejudice and discrimination of any kind can be—especially ageism. It bothers me deeply to see this bias against older adults.

Let’s face it: once we pass our 60s and move into later years, it’s natural for our proverbial “check engine light” to come on. Our bodies may slow down, and challenges may arise, but that doesn’t make us victims or entitle us to special treatment.

I don’t see myself as a victim of ageism. Instead, I embrace my age and recognize that I’ve simply finally accepted that I am a senior citizen and damn proud of it.  At this stage of life, I don’t feel I’m entitled to anything I haven’t earned or paid for. For example, all of us who’ve contributed to Social Security have earned the right to benefits when we reach retirement age. Similarly, Medicare provides vital health coverage after age 65, which we often supplement with additional policies we purchase.

Despite my health challenges, I remain positive and happy. I am especially proud of the fact that when, at age 74, I co-founded My Future Purpose, a company with my colleague Joyce Cohen, that helps individuals discover what’s next. I’ve continued to do meaningful work ever since. I refuse to let ageism define me or my life.

Ageism only holds power if we allow it to. Instead of framing older adults as victims, let’s focus on what we can do and the value we continue to bring to the world, regardless of our age.

So here’s my invitation to you: Share one way you are redefining retirement, pursuing a second act, or embracing life with renewed energy.

Meet Sconnie, my 10-year-old Norwich Terrier and the absolute boss of our household. She’s got some very important jobs, you know. House manager extraordinaire – letting us know precisely when it’s bedtime (no arguments allowed!), vigilant critter patrol in the yard, and my personal walking coach, always ready to nudge me out the door.

I’ve had a dog by my side my entire life. The thought of coming home to an empty house, without that enthusiastic greeting and wagging tail, is simply unimaginable. And while my heart aches at the thought of not having another furry friend in the future, I know Sconnie is likely my “last” dog.

As we get older, that word “last” starts creeping into our vocabulary. The last car, the last big vacation, the last family reunion… and for pet lovers, the last dog. It’s a bittersweet realization. While I’d love to welcome another pup into my life someday, I have to be realistic about the future.

My mobility and health are uncertain at this stage of my life and the most loving thing I can do for a dog is to ensure they have a stable, forever home. The thought of my dog ending up in a shelter or having to adjust to a new family because I could no longer care for them is heartbreaking.

So, I’m cherishing every moment with Sconnie, my loyal companion, my furry shadow, and my last dog. She’s more than just a pet; she’s family. And I’m grateful for every day we have together. hashtag#doglove hashtag#norwichterrier hashtag#lastdog hashtag#seniordog hashtag#mansbestfriend hashtag#petstagram hashtag#dogsofinstagram hashtag#grateful hashtag#adoptdontshop (Even though Sconnie is my last, I still believe in adoption!)

How do we reshape perceptions and bridge the gap between generations? By creating real opportunities for connection between Millennials, Gen Z, and older adults.

This powerful video from AARP reveals what Millennials think aging looks like. Spoiler alert: It’s time to disrupt outdated stereotypes!

Let’s take action—engage, collaborate, and challenge perceptions. How can we spark more conversations that redefine aging? Share your thoughts below!

You know your knees are in trouble when you start planning your life around avoiding stairs. Up hurts. Down hurts. Flat surfaces? Still hurts. Walking downhill? Might as well be rolling downhill because these knees aren’t cooperating. And let’s not even talk about getting up from a chair—that’s a full-production event, complete with sound effects.

For years, I told myself, Oh, it’s just a little arthritis, as if that would magically make the bone-on-bone grinding less excruciating. I tried every lotion, potion, brace, and “miracle” supplement that promised relief. Spoiler alert: none of them worked.

Finally, I waved the white flag and went to an orthopedic surgeon. After looking at my X-rays, he just shook his head and said, “I don’t even know how you’re walking.” Encouraging, right? But here’s the thing: these surgeons don’t sugarcoat the process—they tell you straight up that it’s going to be tough. And oh boy, was it tough.

The surgery? Not exactly a walk in the park. The first three weeks? Let’s just say, I discovered new curse words. And rehab? The physical therapists are lovely people, but I’m convinced they moonlight as drill sergeants.

But then—something miraculous happened. By month three, I wasn’t just walking pain-free; I was back at the gym doing squats like my knees were factory-fresh. Stairs? No longer my enemy. Gardening? Back in business. Arthritis pain? Gone. It was as if I had been gifted a brand-new pair of legs—without the inconvenient centaur look.

So, if your knees are making you miserable, stop suffering in silence. Find a great surgeon, get the facts, and take back your mobility. The journey isn’t easy, but neither is living with constant pain. And once you’re recovered, you’ll strut around like the bionic wonder you were always meant to be.

Oh, and one more bonus? When you set off metal detectors at the airport, you finally have a cool story to tell.

Here is anotther one I did:

Remember those gym suits we wore in the ‘60s? We had to ace the Presidential Physical Fitness Tests initiated by Dwight Eisenhower back in 1956!

Then came the era of VHS workout tapes – from Jane Fonda’s “Feel the Burn” and Richard Simmons’ “Sweatin’ to the Oldies” to Tammy Lee Webb’s “Buns of Steel,” Denise Austin’s Rock Aerobics, and even Billy Banks’ Tae Bo. Do any of you still have those old tapes?

Fast forward to today, and Pilates and yoga are taking the spotlight.

According to the CDC, 50% of boomers continue to exercise regularly.

So here’s my challenge: Who were your fitness influencers? When did you first get inspired to get moving, and where do you exercise now? Share your stories and let’s reconnect over our unique fitness journeys!

We are living in financially shaky times. Between rising inflation, tariffs, and unsettling dips in the stock market, many of us are quietly asking: Will I be okay if a recession hits?

For women especially, this question comes with a heavy emotional toll. A recent survey by the Employee Benefit Research Institute found:

40% of women report feeling unconfident in their retirement planning.
71% of women say preparing for retirement causes them stress, compared to 56% of men.
This growing anxiety has a name: Bag Lady Syndrome—the persistent fear of ending up broke and homeless, despite years of working, saving, and planning.

It’s not just a mindset. For those of us over 70, living on a fixed income, we may not have the time or tools to recoup major losses. For those still working, the prospect of delaying retirement is becoming more real by the day.

I do not want to open my financial statement. My financial planner is holding my hand as I grow more and more concerned.

There are ways to regain a sense of control. Here are five things we can do right now to prepare for potential economic turbulence:

• Revisit your budget and focus on needs versus wants.
• Trim where you can.
• Talk to a financial advisor for professional help.
• Delay major purchases unless necessary.
• Boost your emergency fund to at least 6 months of essential expenses.
• Stay informed but avoid panic.

This isn’t about fear—it’s about readiness. It’s about making smart, informed choices to protect the future we’ve worked so hard for.

Have you felt this anxiety too? What steps are you taking to prepare?

I was in CVS looking for graduation cards. Most were gone. The cards next to the empty graduation cards were Father’s Day. For some reason, I picked up a Father’s Day card. As I read it, I started to quietly sob.

A young woman nearby noticed and gently asked, “Are you okay?”
I nodded, trying to compose myself. She quietly said, “I lost my dad six months ago. I don’t even know why I’m looking at these cards.”
There we were: a 79-year-old woman and a 32-year-old stranger, comforting one another in the middle of a card aisle at CVS.

We ended up at Dunkin’ Donuts, sharing coffee and stories about our dads—her father lost to pancreatic cancer, mine to a cerebral stroke.
I was a daddy’s girl. An only child. His farmhand, his conversation partner, his legacy. He didn’t want me to stay on the farm—he envisioned more for me. He was wise, kind, and full of humor.

She asked me how long will she grieve the loss of her father. Grief, I thought, for me had long passed. But 35 years later, a card brought it all back. I told her: “Grief softens over time, but it never fully disappears. We carry their spirit with us in our hearts.”

As Father’s Day approaches, I envy those spending the day with their dads—and yet, I’m deeply grateful for the memories I still hold.
If you’ve lost your father, what helps you honor his memory?

If you’re lucky enough to still have him, how are you making new memories this year?
Let’s share the stories that keep their legacy alive.

I’m part of the vanguard—one of the first baby boomers about to cross the 80-year milestone in January 2026. Right now, I’m a 79-year-old happy, reasonably healthy woman, riding the wave of a generation that once thought 30 was old. Turns out, old is just a moving target.

There were once 76 million of us born between 1946 and 1964. The youngest are now 63; the rest of us are moving through our 70s, with a few leading the charge toward 80. We’ve seen the headlines shift from “10,000 boomers turn 50 every day” to “2,000 boomers die every day.” Gulp. That one hits a little different when you’re closer to the finish line than the starting gate.

We’re still the wealthiest generation in U.S. history—holding more than half of the nation’s wealth, with an average net worth of $1.2 million. But we’ve also become the most studied, marketed-to, and misunderstood generation in history. We were raised in the afterglow of WWII, raised our own families during times of dramatic cultural shifts, and now, we’re navigating aging in a world obsessed with youth.

Who We Were
We were the Pepsi Generation, the Woodstock Nation, the ones who screamed for the Beatles and slow-danced to the Supremes. We were glued to black-and-white TVs watching Walter Cronkite report on the moon landing and the tragedies of Vietnam. We remember the sound of a needle on vinyl and the power of protest.

We were the first to grow up with television—Ozzie and Harriet, the Mickey Mouse Club, American Bandstand. We went from hippie vans to minivans to Medicare. We clashed with our parents over hair length and hemlines. We were the generation of “sex, drugs, and rock and roll.” We pushed boundaries, fought for civil rights and women’s rights, and learned to question authority—sometimes while wearing bell-bottoms and peace signs.

We shaped a culture, influenced politics, and built careers during a time when anything seemed possible.

Who We Are Now
We’re downsizing, caregiving, some of us still caregiven. We’re navigating a healthcare system we now depend on, bracing for expenses we never quite anticipated. We’re moving into senior living facilities or updating homes to age in place.
We’re watching our friends—and ourselves—face chronic conditions, loss, grief, and mobility challenges. But we’re also walking, volunteering, mentoring, creating, and continuing to make meaning.
Many of us recoil at the word “retire.” We don’t want to withdraw—we want to contribute, connect, and stay relevant. We don’t want to be shelved. We want to share the wisdom earned from a lifetime of experience.
Yes, some of us now walk with walkers, but our memories still dance in the mud at Woodstock. We’ve lived through eras that reshaped the world. And we’re not done yet.

Five Lessons for the Boomers Coming Up Behind Me

1. Stay Curious, Not Critical The world is changing fast, and it’s easy to fall into the “back in my day” trap. But curiosity keeps us young. Ask questions. Try new things. Learn from the generations behind you.
2. Let Go of What No Longer Serves You Grudges, outdated beliefs, clutter—emotional and physical. Let them go. You don’t need to carry it all to the finish line. Travel light.
3. Laugh Often—Especially at Yourself Aging comes with indignities. Chin hairs grow overnight. Knees creak. Tech baffles. Laughing eases the sting. Humor is a powerful form of resilience.
4. Don’t Wait to Be Asked—Offer Your Wisdom Your stories, mistakes, and life lessons are valuable. Share them. Mentor someone. Write things down. Be the elder you once needed.
5. Purpose Doesn’t Retire You still matter. You still have something to contribute. Find a reason to get up in the morning—whether it’s a cause, a hobby, a grandchild, or just feeding the birds. A life with purpose is a life well-lived.

As I prepare to celebrate this milestone, I’m not mourning what’s lost—I’m honoring what’s been lived. From Woodstock to walkers, it’s been one hell of a ride. And the music’s not over yet.

To my fellow boomers: keep dancing, keep dreaming, and keep daring. We’re not just aging—we’re evolving.

For me, it was growing up poor on a small farm in rural northern Wisconsin—and being part of 4-H. Belonging to the Bluebell Builders 4-H Club had a profound and lasting impact on who I am today.

Each meeting began with two pledges: the Pledge of Allegiance and the 4-H Pledge. I can still hear the rhythm of those powerful words:

• I pledge my Head to clearer thinking
• I pledge my Heart to greater loyalty
• I pledge my Hands to larger service
• I pledge my Health to better living for my club, my community, my country, and my world

At the time, it felt like a ritual. Looking back, I realize it was a blueprint. Those words helped shape my values—clear thinking, loyalty, service, and healthy living. They weren’t just ideals. They became guideposts.

4-H gave me more than skills—it gave me confidence. I learned to sew. I kept project financial accounting records. I gave cooking and sewing demonstrations. I grew vegetables and proudly showed them at the county fair. I entered my horse in competitions. I even got my Social Security number so I could work at the fair’s hamburger stand!

But more than anything, I learned how to be a leader—and how to serve.
The 4-H pledge has echoed through every stage of my life. It shaped my sense of purpose, my work ethic, and my desire to give back.

We all have influences that mold us—sometimes quietly, sometimes profoundly. For me, 4-H was one of the most defining.

What clubs or organizations shaped you? What early experiences helped form the values you carry today? I’d love to hear.

When do you stop coloring your hair?

For me, it happened after I lost it all. Chemotherapy took my hair, my eyebrows, my lashes—and even confused my iPhone. (Yes, it refused to recognize my face until I filled in some brows with a pencil. Thanks, tech.)

But something unexpected happened when my hair grew back in—white. After everything my body had endured, I decided I was done with harsh chemicals. No more dye. No more root touch-ups. No more pretending.

We women color our hair for many reasons. Sometimes it’s self-expression. Sometimes it’s about matching changing skin tones. Often, it’s to sidestep the stigma of aging in a culture obsessed with youth. Just look at the U.S. Senate—female senators 41 to 81 all seem to have colored hair, while their male colleagues embrace the gray.

There’s no shame in coloring your hair. And no shame in letting it go gray, silver, or white. What matters is that you choose.

Me? I love the freedom of skipping the salon every six weeks. And I’ve learned to enjoy the perks—like when a kind young man on a train offers me his seat, or a grocery clerk insists on loading my bags. (Yes please, thank you very much.)

White hair may make me look older, but it also makes me feel wiser, more authentic, and more me.

So tell me: Have you stopped coloring your hair, or are you still team touch-up? What led to your decision?

Lately, I’ve been feeling personally attacked by my household items. Not emotionally—physically. By jars, bottles, pill containers, and those impossible-to-open hard plastic clamshells that make you wonder if the product inside is even worth it.

Let’s talk about bottle caps. Apparently, manufacturers are shaving off millimeters to save plastic. Great for the environment, terrible for aging fingers. Water bottle caps are now so small, I need pliers to open them. And not the dainty ones—I’m talking about the heavy-duty kind that could rebuild a car engine.

And don’t even get me started on salad dressing bottles. I recently had to go down to the basement and return with my husband’s pipe wrench. Not a dainty twist. No. I practically performed a full-body power move just to get to my vinaigrette.

Then there’s the dreaded: “Squeeze both sides and twist” medicine bottle.
That’s cute. I’ve squeezed, twisted, begged, and cursed—and still had to call in backup (a.k.a. Mr. Pliers).

And if you’ve ever tried opening anything encased in that hard, clear plastic clamshell packaging—the kind that requires a razor knife, battle gear, and possibly a tetanus shot—you know the struggle is real.

Let’s not ignore chip bags, which now require the strength of a professional wrestler or the strategic accuracy of a heart surgeon to open without blasting chips across the room.

So no, it’s not just you.

But okay, maybe it’s a little bit us. Grip strength does decrease as we age. Sigh. That’s why my kitchen drawer now includes:
 A 5-in-1 jar opener
 Non-slip rubber grippers
 A pair of trusty scissors
 Industrial-strength pliers
 A sense of humor
 And possibly a small blowtorch (kidding… mostly)

If you’ve got any secret hacks or MacGyver-style tools to help open modern-day Fort Knox packaging, share them below. We need each other.

I was 13 when my mom decided it was time. Instead of sitting me down for a heart-to-heart, she handed me a pastel booklet titled “You’re a Young Lady Now” and told me to sit on the stairs and read it. Alone.

Once I finished my literary journey into puberty, she asked, “Any questions?” I had about 400.

But I just mumbled “Nope,” and stared at the floor.

Then came the box of Kotex pads—what my friends and I (with the humor of 13-year-olds) called “mouse mattresses.” She told me to keep them handy and, without much transition, added, “And now… you need to be careful around boys.”

I asked, “What do you mean careful?” She turned six shades of pink, looked at the ceiling, and said, “Just… be careful.” No sex ed class. No school filmstrip. No diagrams.

But I had my best friend Annie and a very “knowledgeable” classmate from a large family. Let’s just say, what we learned behind the woodshed was a whole lot more detailed than anything in that little booklet.

We may not have understood much, but we sure had a lot of laughs trying to figure it all out. It was the late ’50’s. Back then, moms did the best they could while navigating a culture of silence and modesty.

Did your mom give you “the talk”? Or did she dodge it like mine did?

Let’s share the stories—because awkward is universal, and sometimes funny is the best teacher.