On old farts and creepy old men

A few years ago I took a dramatic monologue class to sharpen my speaking skills. The teacher was brilliant and a surprising number of the participants were talented too, including three who recently presented six moving and original pieces at the Producer’s Club. I laughed, I cried, and I stumbled over some language. One piece referred to a “creepy old priest” and I punted that to Yo, Is That Ageist? Another piece prompted this note: 

 

how my book starts

I've been buried in book-proposal purgatory. Here's how the Introduction kicks off:

It doesn’t make much sense to go through life pretending that something that’s definitely going to happen to you isn’t going to happen to you unless you die. Yet that’s how most of us behave when it comes to getting older. “Hey, it beats the alternative,” we manage weakly. What does that old saw actually mean? The only thing worse than being old is being dead.

The Radical Age Movement kicks off

My compadres are beginning to organize! I'll be there on January 13th. Also looking forward to learning how to facilitate safe and productive conversations about age bias. Ferguson has provoked plenty of interesting exchanges around identity and solidarity, and while racism and ageism are different in significant ways, there's much to learn from those discussions as well. 

 

"Thank you for reminding me that older age can bring many gifts."

Last week I had the pleasure of being a guest on Cavaliere’s Cabaret, a monthly variety show in New Haven’s Lyric Hall hosted by brilliant singer and performer Anne Tofflemire. There was singing, there was dancing, there was comedy, and there was a 10-minute conversation with me about—you guessed it—ageism. The response was terrific, including this lovely follow-up note from a woman in the audience.

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