‘Baby-boomers’ have the floor

Van Morrison is singing “School of Hard Knocks” as I stare at my laptop screen dumbfounded at the blank page that is idea-deprived.
I do have material to call upon for inspiration, including “Better than Sex–Chocolate Principles to Live By,” followed by the tried and true Mark Nepo and Melody Beattie editions.
No light bulb moments here.
Now Van Morrison is singing “Enlightenment” and belts out, “Don’t know what it is.”
Hmmm. Is he trying to tell me something?
A copy of “TurboTax” for my yet unfinished income tax doldrums day stares at me from across the desk. I groan when I think of the inevitability of calculating a “balance owing” number on Line 483.
A report on women of the “baby-boomer” generation—that would be me—is at my fingertips. It says that baby-boomer women have freedom, hectic schedules, resources, and a taste for quality.
Hmmm. I ponder that foursome for a while. I am puzzled about resources. If we are talking about books and chocolate, I’m set up like a pyramid in Egypt.
Come to think about it, I have a lot of resources I can count on, although none of them include multiple polymer images of Sir Robert Borden or W.L. Mackenzie King. It’s a pity.
Freedom? Now there’s fodder for a 500-word essay—maybe 700 if I’m on a roll. But I’m still trying to figure out what freedom means to me, so that’s another story.
The report also states that “boomer” women grew up in an age of rebellion. Really? I can’t relate to that life stage—unless we’re talking about my uprising against ironing clothes.
That chore accounted for three-quarters of my weekly allowance when I was a kid and I swore to myself that when I left for college, I would invent wrinkle-free everything, including “Caldwell” towels.
Sadly, someone else already had taken that brand name and ran with it all the way to the bank.
Hectic schedules? They are a constant and unrelenting thorn in my baby-boomer underwear. But I won’t complain too much. After all, I’m the first to agree that life is what we make of it.
However, the fact that my current calendar is a combination of a Tasmanian devil in a sandstorm and two cougars in a gunny sack fighting over a piece of meat means it’s cruising for change.
The report also says “boomer” women aren’t afraid to take chances. Some things are true whether we believe them or not. I take chances.
“Boomer” women are said to have a taste for quality. Hmmm. Quality can mean many things. Quality time is a big one for me, followed closely by quality kisses and good dark chocolate.
I like quality friends, too, who aren’t afraid to look me in the eye and tell me what’s on their mind. I like a quality connection.
And last but certainly not least, as Van Morrison’s song “Enlightenment” comes back ’round again, I am reminded of an e-mail sent by a new friend of mine who lives with his wife in a little town in southern Minnesota.
He had commented kindly upon reading my column last week when I wrote about intuition.
“Will Rogers, a well-known American humorist back in the 1920s and ’30s once said that some of us learn by reading, some of us learn by observation, the rest of us just gotta touch the electric fence for ourselves.”
Ah yes, Don. How true.
I am a woman of the baby-boomer generation. I have freedom, hectic schedules, resources, and a taste for quality.
And sometimes I also have to touch the electric fence for enlightenment.