By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

I am an avid reader – with tired eyes. These searchlights have served me well over many years – and they still work for me. Dimly, it’s true, but certainly adequately for everyday activities. I do not have an eye disease. And my sight is close to 20-20. What I have is end-of-thed a y – w h e n – I – l o v e – t o – cuddle-with-a-book blurs. This is even after two cataract surgeries and no real diagnosis from my Ophthalmologist … just an admonition about too much time at the computer, plus a simple treatment plan: Live with it. His unspoken language translated into: “You’re lucky after all these years that it’s no worse. Be grateful.” And gratitude is what I’m all about.

But my list of “Books I Want To Read” reaches to China and, although I do not have an eye disease, my frustration level was registering “dangerous” until I discovered Books On Tape.

And so, reluctantly, I have bartered my NPR radio station in favor of listening to a good book. I do my reading-listening in the car and, although I probably don’t average more than 2 hours a day in the car, if that much, it’s start and stop doing various household chores, volunteering, some business meetings and keeping up with social engagements; so, it’s not unusual for me to spend a couple of weeks with a 17-disk book. (Most of them have far fewer disks.) And I come right back to my place without missing a beat each time I turn on the ignition. And, no, I don’t lose interest. In fact, I love red lights. They increase my listening time.

I find myself engaged with more non-fiction than I had been before: biographies, memoirs and lots of political and trendy stuff, all from my local library. I recently went on a jag to find out as much as I could about our president and took out six books on Obama – three from the right and three from the left, and came away from that experience with a well balanced synthesis – but – you’ll get no politics in this column.

My taste in fiction is for good literature and, sometimes, I feel the need to buy a book I’ve heard, just to underline some of the powerful or poetic language, and to make notes. All of which has not prevented me from engaging in the actual cuddle with a real book. Thus far, I have resisted eBooks. I know. I know. Some of you love ‘em. But when I travel, I only take skinny books, and I hate reading on a screen. It’s bad enough that I have to read on a computer screen.

So this is a recommendation for your Christmas list for book lovers with sore eyes, book lovers who spend lots of car time or book lovers who simply can’t get enough reading time and might listen in the car (or doing laundry or cooking), or for someone who is fed up with the fare on TV and would like to knit or sew or do a craft project while listening to a good book.

And have a Merry Christmas!

By Emily Rosen M.S., M.A.

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

 Should I write about the woman sentenced to 20 years in prison for having shot in the air at her abusive husband?

Should I write about Syria, Iran and Russia and the U.N.’s attempt at showing new “muscle?”

Should I write about Ted Cruz, Obamacare, the debt ceiling and the government shutdown?

None of the above, while I am sitting in the hospital ICU watching my 87-year-old husband fight for life, and with a mind more lucid than it’s ever been, making his own quality of life decisions.

Yesterday, it was hospice care. This morning, he was dictating his obituary until he took a last-ditch test that, surprising to everyone concerned, indicated that he would actually be able to ingest some food and that he, therefore, had a chance of some kind of recovery.

He is now infused with hope. HOPE is good, even when it denies reality.

Illness in old age carries with it the extra burden of existential questioning about the value of life, the probing of one’s belief system, and the actual challenge that calls for the decisiveness of action or the passiveness of inaction. When is enough, too much? When does a person let go and accept the inevitable; when does he or she fight, struggle and submit to a mountain of indignities, probings, heroic measures that can never return him/ her to full youthful vigor, but MAY POSSIBLY keep him breathing and alert to pleasant physical surroundings and the warmth and caring of those who love him?

It helps to realize that other people have been faced with these kinds of conundrums for ages and, until it happens to YOU, there are no resolves that are binding.

So we go for the “one day at a time” model that seems to work, even as days turn to weeks and months. This gives us time to count blessings, probe each other’s minds, reminisce, look at old family pictures and mostly sharpen our sense of humor. Laughing has been the best medicine for both of us – laughter and total honesty about all aspects of the situation.

And then there are the tender moments that only many years of marriage (59) and the prospect of “an end” can elicit – different indeed from the passionate erotica of “new love.”

And when my husband assures me not only of his love, but of his conviction that I have been a perfect wife for him – adding, “Even better than Rita Hayworth or Marilyn Monroe,” I know I have done much better even than having my hands enshrined in The Hollywood Walk Of Fame at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

And the beat goes on.

By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

Hieroglyphics, quills, couriers, Pony Express, Gutenberg’s printer, U.S. Mail, telephone, e-mail, social media and, finally smartphones, texting and who knows what in the next five minutes. Oh, how our ability to remain in contact with each other has evolved. We are currently at what one might call the most sophisticated era of human communication and, yet, our abundance of choices has in a way confounded us with obstacles. Whenever people have so many options, it becomes evident that one size does not fit all and, with people personalizing their preferences, the door is opened for missed connections or over-connections.

I have friends whose sole mode of communication is texting. I rarely text, and, therefore, often forget to check for text messages. This morning, I found one that had an urgency that defied its origin. Why didn’t she CALL me with that message? Because “she” is so totally into text messaging that the possibility of using a telephone had eluded her. I, on the other hand, have so adapted to hourly e-mailing that I lose sight of the fact that some people I know routinely open their emails less frequently even than once a week. So much for the written word.

As for the spoken word, I am somewhat telephone averse. I use it only when I have no other option or when I need to transmit a specific message and over and out. I reserve telephone “visits” for those people outside the geography of visiting availability. I often make a telephone date ahead of time and am prepared to “sit on the phone,” an activity for which I have very little patience except in such cases.

Also, I note that smartphone users have a tendency to react to every signal they get like Pavlov’s dog. They get notified of a text message and – boom! – immediate response. In the middle of a social event when their email signal rings – oops, their eyes focus in like headlights. Granted, some of it is business related, but tell me — puleeze! — how did so many businesses flourish BEFORE they could connect 24/7?

Then there’s Facebook and Twitter and the like, and the competition for more and more “likes” and “friends,” and the inane postings about minute-by-minute activities … good for PhD theses on motivation, addiction and emotional neediness, as well as effectiveness of its marketing component.

OK. So here’s my case. If you call me on my cell when I’m out of the house, I’m not likely to rush to answer you unless we are meeting that day and I anticipate a possible emergency change of plans. Text me, and it’s Russian Roulette as to when I respond. E-mail me when I’m out of the house, and, if I happen to have a very l-o-on- g red light, I may check the message. Yes, you’ll get me on my cell phone if I am out of town, and you’ll surely get the real me on my house phone (unless I’m checking caller I.D. and avoiding you deliberately – ah, but why would I? (If you’re reading this column, I’m loving you) or my home computer, which is your best bet.

What? You don’t want to reach me by any method?

Is that a definite — or can we talk?

By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

Where did the summer go? It gets shorter every year. All around me are the signs, the marketing, the reminders, the reach for dollars in the name of our kids. It’s back to school time.

I was thinking of that theme tonight while watching the 60 Minutes interview with Bill Gates, the famous Harvard dropout I reflected on the many ways we learn that have nothing to do with school. When our official book learning curriculum comes to a halt, life learning takes its place and self motivation is the engine that really defines the learning curve. Life learning is the school from which we graduate only on the day we are interred.

Alas, that our impoverished world has not produced more Bill Gates. Those of us not so blessed must rely on the creativity of teachers, most of whom are in unimaginative physical settings and must, therefore, in their own small territory, devise ways to keep 21st Century kids from thumbing their way through classes on their smart phones.

I’m hoping that among my readers each of you has had at least one memorable teacher who has sparked an interest in a subject otherwise “dead” to you.

For me, it was Mr. Sayles, my high school English teacher in my senior year, who spent months using as his teaching tool not any book or video. The New York Times was his text. All our lessons had sprung from its content. I remember especially his emphasis on the Book Review section, as we pawed through it for a few weeks, talking about the content page by page. I realize now why on Sunday mornings, as I dive into my Times, I separate the sections – placing the Book Review at the bottom, savoring it for the last and best read, and taking weekly notes regarding my own future reading.

What a dull subject Geography was for me until I was assigned to Miss Martin’s class when we studied the Caribbean countries (at a time when my most distant travel was from Brooklyn to The Bronx, and when I had no hope of ever expanding that horizon). She didn’t have us memorize facts about climate, history, natural resources, politics and history. Instead, my group was assigned to plan a virtual trip to Puerto Rico having to choose a travel agent, transportation (I’d never been on a plane), hotel, sights and finances to the point where we took a class trip to an airport.

How could I have known at the time that I would someday wind up on the streets of Kathmandu, among other exotic locations? My interest in travel was sparked by that early experience.

I’ll save my tirade in the cause of greater support for creative teachers. I can only begin to imagine the many changes in knowledge delivery that have taken place since “my day” and will continue with the accelerated swiftness of our technological age. And, as a one-time parent of school age kids, I know how you can’t wait for the school year to begin!

By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

Ya gotta love a country that can produce – within the remnants of Guttenberg print, as well as modern day social media – – columns, blogs and Letters to the Editor excoriating Edward Snowdens whistleblowing as being a danger to the country, and, in equal space, lauding the man for being a patriot, with digital news outlets relentlessly redundant in offering passionate opinions – on both sides and in between. If this isn’t a metaphor for what is “right” (as opposed to “wrong”) about our country, I cannot imagine a better one.

Personally, I have been hoping for such a national debate for quite a while. The obvious fear of a “slippery slope” is on everyone’s mind, a legitimate concern as we study how dictatorial governments usurp power sometimes so gradually as to leave a naïve constituency in shock as it realizes how powerless it has become. This can happen as a result of evil intent – or benign inefficiency .

The other side of that coin is the existential threat we face from clusters of irrational enemies requiring our use of sophisticated surveillance to thwart major disasters. And, alas, there is no official set of rules we can apply to define the boundaries, or to identify standards. Many who express passion on one side or the other are privileged to only partial information. So whistle blowers, watchdogs and defenders of our national security haggle over several versions of the truth, which we, the people, are charged with sorting out. And, just as an aside, it is ironical, though not too surprising, to note the incongruous lineup of allies as the progressive left and the libertarian right cuddle up to each other.

How is it possible to measure the effects of what Snowden did? We will never accurately be able to assess damage and we will never accurately be able to assess the degree to which some parts of our privacy may be restored as a result of his disclosures.

What actually happens to Snowden is a distraction – albeit Hollywood style – from the debate concerning the balance between security and privacy.

The nanosecond speed with which people trumpet to the world the fact that they are about to go to the john, order a Scotch or dance naked makes one wonder about privacy as a priority.

We are a country suffering from dysphoria, dissonance, disaffection, discord, disenchantment, disgruntlement, distrust, disillusionment, dispiritedness and dysfunction. And, if there’s anything we know how to do, it is to “dis” one another.

But here’s the bottom line: It is healthy that we ARE having this debate out in the open. It need not be vitriolic or accusatory. Hopefully, it will settle into more transparency balanced with an understanding and acceptance of the necessary secret measures our government must take in the name of security.

And so here’s to another Happy Birthday to our very flawed, but nonetheless better than any other, country on the planet.

By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

You all must know those “parlor games” people play, as in “Ok, let’s go around the room, everyone, and tell us ‘Who would you like to BE in your next life?’ … or ‘What was the scariest time of your life?’ … or ‘Tell us about your first kiss.’

Well, when they came to ‘What was the dumbest thing you ever did?’ I was hit with a sudden case of déjà vous and I realized that I’d never told anyone this story before.

It was 1992. I was leading two lives and they were definitely fighting each other. On the one hand, I was the perfect housewife, hovering mother of two grown sons, creator of dazzling parties for the right people, country club robot – golf, tennis, luncheons the right clothes.

On the other hand, I was an empty nester, looking for something more meaningful to me. Women of my generation were not scrambling to go back to work, especially if their husbands’ income was sufficient for their preferred lifestyle. Such an act might suggest a need to supplement that income and “how would that look?” Subtle, but I “got” it.

So I went half way and took a job freelancing for a local newspaper in Westchester County where I lived. And that was kind of fun. It didn’t interfere with my “other” life. I could go on most assignments on my own time and never missed a deadline.

I had always been somewhat of a political junkie, and if you don’t remember 1992, allow me to massage your memory. It was just another political year with the usual cast of many characters vying for the big job: Jerry Brown, Bob Kerry, Bill Clinton, Eugene McCarthy, Paul Tsongas and a couple of other folks long forgotten, but at the time, people who actually thought they could be leaders of the world. And Westchester County, commuter distance from New York City, was pocketed with big money folks who were always anxious to give bucks for a touch of fame – if not something even more substantial than that.

Candidates and their surrogates … wives, mothers, sisters, etc. were on the trail speaking for their “man” at wealthy homes all over the county raising campaign money. And at various times, my editor would ask me to interview some of those very dull people, which I reluctantly did, happy only to see my byline – anywhere!

On this particular day, I was scheduled to play in a tennis tournament when my editor called. I sighed and made a face, invisible of course, across telephone lines. “Who is it THIS time?” I asked.

Her voice barely came through as I heard her mumble an unfamiliar name. “Listen, Sandy,” I said. “No one ever even heard of her. It’s really a waste of time and, besides, I’m on my way to play in a tennis tournament. Sorry.”

Sandy was uncanny in her ability to smell a story, and she was usually very tenacious. But this time, she capitulated. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess you’re right … another nobody. Good luck in your tournament.”

And that’s how I never got to interview the person “no one ever heard of” … Hillary Clinton.

By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

I begin this column again. I have started it four times, ditching each “start” as “unfocused,” which is a major writing no-no. I did not want to do that. But–know what? Today, I’m gonna! And if I call this Random Thoughts, then voila! I don’t HAVE to be focused!

I am a political junkie, and I really love writing about politics. But I “got the word” from the powers that be, that “politics” is out for me. Thing is, that I am always pulled to the middle in political debates. But the fact that I am pulled from the left seems to be somewhat disturbing. And probably that’s what brings on my “writer’s block.” I’m just saying . I’m okay with it. I just need to vent every 10 years or so.

But I guess it’s okay for me to comment on all the media folks who spring into mindless action and verbiage in order to get a scoop and espouse an opinion.

Here again, it pains me when people “opine” ( I stole that from Bill O’Reilly) about stuff they don’t know, the Boston Marathon tragedy being only one case-in-point. Yes, we all want transparency in government and, yes, we all want maximum security. But what if – what if – they were mutually exclusive. What if we had to make the choice of one over the other ? Talk about a Sophie’s Choice. And therein lies so much of our discontent. There is so much – so very much — that we don’t know (A) because it is unknowable and (B) because we are concentrating on our daily lives and are not prone to checking out archives and documents. And even relying on those who do those things for a living, we are left with questions of interpretation and bias and we still don’t know! There is so much we don’t know.

But randomly speaking and changing the focus, I landed at the new Deerfield pier Saturday night, first time since its renovation. I am a northern neighbor (Boca) and don’t get here often enough. Infused with the local vigor and the feeling of being part of an endless “feelgood place,” we strolled the sidewalks and the beach and the pier itself, anticipating the completion of its yet unfinished eatery. We could have been on the French Riviera and would not have felt as energized. And how lucky we are to be living on the fringe of a non- stop happening. And then, we had a special treat! On the beach in front of the Wyndham Hotel, we witnessed a real LIVE wedding, complete with gorgeous white-gowned bride, handsome groom and guests who shed their shoes (the ladies, that is) as they walked down the carpeted aisle covering the sand. Debbie and Tommy –whoever they are, exchanged vows as people have been doing for thousands of years, witnessed by a covey of strangers and passersby. In view of all the world’s angst and our racer-pace of innovation, it is heartening to think that some things never change.

And finally … mothers … past, present and future – you are the glue of the world. Have a good SPECIAL one!

By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

April seems to be the most competitive month of the year —racing as it does around the seasons only to reappear with increased frequency, thus presenting me with yet another birthday. Again? So soon?

With that in mind, I’ve had another year of learning what many people of fewer birthdays are yet to figure out, which makes me Lucky Emily. I am happy to share this good stuff with you people of fewer birthdays, although, trust me, it sticks better when you figure it out for yourself. But here are some basics that may save you some time.

PEOPLE IN OUR LIVES (relatives, friends, colleagues, customers. authority figures) There are no perfect people, although rumor has it that Jesus was such, and I am willing to bow to that one exception. Regarding the people most important in our lives it’s kind of fun to 1) calculate their areas of “good” and “bad” and then to 2) determine the balance and then to 3) decide if the balance is favorable to maintaining the relationship (and if it is not, figure out how to chuck it), and then 4) train ourselves to be accepting of the “bad” while still exuding good cheer and inner peace—“good cheer” and “inner peace” being the operative words here. And BTW—if you’re thinking you can “change” the bad part, you need lots more b i r t h d a y s .

PEOPLE ON OUTER PERIMETER OF OUR LIVES: Was there ever a time in all of the history of recorded mankind when some people somewhere were NOT trying to kill each other? Never, never, never. Somewhere in human DNA there is a gene for the kind of competitive megalomania that results in a need for control and ultimate power, often leading to violence. Short of identifying that gene routinely at birth and subsequently enucleated it in much the same way we inoculate babies against diseases, it’s been a raging fact of life forever that has yet to be subdued. So, after many years, it is possible to accept that we are saddled forever with an imperfect world. And we note with resignation the ying and yang, of rain and shine, of war and compassion, of good and evil, of plenty and famine, of wealth and poverty. And we pick a tiny segment of our own tiny world to work toward making some part of it better. It took many birthdays to recognize and accept that I cannot save the world, that I cannot fix everything.

What I have learned most is gratitude and good cheer, to keep my pains and aches to myself and to ignore them in deference to all the distractions I can muster…distractions that include in equal weight… concentration on the needs of others and concentration on my own needs.

So Happy April to me and, before I know it, I’ll have another litany of stuff I’ve learned for 2014.

By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

You may be one of them. Or if not, you surely KNOW one of them. They are truly all over the place — the mature male (50ish and older), recently widowed or divorced who finds himself suddenly solo.

Well, yes, there is the myth that single men “have it made,” and get sympathy.

That’s not always so. Many of these males had been married since just after puberty and they are now lost in a whole new world of dating and/or simply trying to figure out how to do the laundry and what to do with coupons, or actually picking up the phone in order to promote some kind of social life — some of the many things that “she” did for him.

Along comes Hal Spielman (of New York and South Florida), a successful marketing businessman whose

long-time loving wife has died. He in fact, is suddenly solo. After the first flourish of friends-in-sympathy, he is settling into a new life and all the unexpected baggage that comes with it.

Thus was born the website www.suddenlysolo.org and spawned from that, the just published book “Suddenly Solo: A Lifestlye Roadmap For The Mature, Widowed or Divorced Man,” co-written with his friend Marc Silbert (www.amazon.com).

“I undertook seven separate and distinct research studies that provide the foundation for information in this book,” said Spielman— whose life work has been in Market Research, “thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours having been spent on primary research.” But in the writing, the book is a “relaxed and conversational journey about living experiences.”

Former CEO of AARP Bill Novelli states in the book’s Afterword that this slim volume helps with the “What Next?” It offers a cornucopia of “what nexts” from which to choose, allowing that one size does not fit all. A quick surf through the table of contents hints at some really valuable “take home” information – light and full of good humor, the latter being reason enough to get hold of it.

Starting with Malnutrition Avoidance (the hobby chefs among you can skip that one) on through Loneliness, to the Aha Moment when you realize that dating rituals and standards have gone 180 degrees since last you were there, and then on to the Internet and some juicy sex specific “rules of the current game” to the final and funny “glossary” for the troglodytes among you – this turns out to be fun for all! Women love it too. And the progeny of those afflicted can’t wait to gift it to Papa.

Spielman, a sociologist by training, who retired in 2008 from the marketing and communications research firm he co-founded, enjoys his South Florida book tour stops where he is constantly encountering and interviewing more Suddenly Solos for his website.

Co-author Marc Silbert, a principle in the international organization Accountemps and Robert Half Personnel Service as president of its New York City operations, is happy when Hal is “working the rooms.” It’s a win-win all around.

For the couch potato or the bar fly, the introvert or the party guy, for the nerd or the “hottie,” there’s something for every Suddenly Solo guy in this book, with constant exhortation and guidelines on how to “Get out there and live!”

And, ladies, you’re next!