Southern Indiana Living Magazine - Jan / Feb 2023

A Note to Baby Boomers
Yours for the Asking
My wife and I finished
spring cleaning in the fall.
To think we usually are in
such a hurry.
Hosting a big yard sale would be
one way to go. But then a customer
would try to pay with Venmo and
I’d stroke out. Donating is simpler, of
course. Is there a worthy alternative
to Goodwill?
I asked around.
When my car needed an oil
change and my favorite mechanic
had hung up his wrenches, I asked
around. Same when the refrigerator
went on strike and the front porch
was overdue for an overhaul.
I asked around.
I continue to be reminded of
how I am like my father, who died
nearly 40 years ago. He parked a halfmile
from the grocery store door. I
do, too. A drink of water could not be
cold enough for him.
Yeah, that’s me, too.
And he asked around. Whom he
knew mattered right up there with
what he knew. Making friends, cementing
connections, he was as slick
at all that as a politician up for re-election.
Dad was neither shy about asking
favors nor doing them.
That’s how community best
clicks, Dad believed. Lean on me and
I will lean on you.
Yet it seems the buddy system
is now about as cool as the shirts and
shoes I need to dump. Young adults
take advice from online reviews than
off neighbors or, of course, off anyone
who takes six months to clean out
closets. Friends are on Facebook, not
drinking coffee around tables after
church or at McDonald’s.
Relationship has become a fourletter
word. A text tops a conversation.
Work at home, eat at home, worship
at home — am I the only one left
who still needs to shower?
No one taught me how to change
a tire or how to bake a cake. I’m at a
loss when the toilet keeps running or
the lawn tractor stops running. Then
again, I feel lucky that I can talk to
people, pretty much any and all people.
Whatever else I may be full
of, I am full of questions.
Ask. That well might be my best
advice. Step up and ask. Ask strangers
and friends, kin and neighbors.
Let curiosity free, stop wondering
and start finding out.
Appreciate learning and enjoy
barriers coming down. Shut up if that
seems prudent, in the interest of nose
preservation.
It usually is not.
I told people’s stories for a living
and it is absolutely true that everybody
has a story. More true is that
they have a bunch of stories that they
can’t wait to tell. So do I. So do you.
Opportunities pass. I would
pepper Dad and Mom with questions
until next week if only I still
could. Instead, I was too busy doing
God knows what. This is No. 1 on my
thankfully short list of regrets.
It’s either that or becoming addicted
to pricey ice cream.
I read not long ago how habits
define us. We are what we do, such
was the conclusion. Saying hi, saying
thanks, waving and nodding,
these may not be my only habits but
thank God – and my parents – they
are among them.
So I ask. Then I listen. Many ask
back. Some do not, of course. Their
business is no one else’s, period.
May missing out prove to be among
their regrets. There was a time when
I would be invited to speak to students.
I told them that I was unaware
of anyone who had died from stringing
together words and sentences
and paragraphs. You might not enjoy
your next term-paper assignment,
I urged. You will survive it, though,
and maybe, just maybe, come out the
better for it.
That also is how it is with asking,
with being friendly, with long lunches
with longtime friends and with
getting tips about affordable handymen
or the tastiest Mexican food.
Crazy enough, the more I age the
less I care. I used to know the name of
the backup catcher for the Minnesota
Twins. I used to double-check if tonight’s
favorite TV sitcom was to be a
new episode or a rerun. I used to matter
about whatever actually mattered
– I hope so anyway – and too much of
what didn’t.
No one taught me how to change a tire or how
to bake a cake. I’m at a loss when the toilet
keeps running or the lawn tractor stops running.
Then again, I feel lucky that I can talk to people,
pretty much any and all people.
Have I uncluttered my mind
along with my house?
Priorities change, of course,
while years pile up. Good health no
longer comes as naturally. Money
better not run out before my wife and
I do. Must we really wait until 5 to eat
dinner?
The grand prize of retirement, of
aging, is time. Closet clean-outs, yes,
can wait. Kids’ school breaks no longer
determine dates for travels. Need
to stock up from Costco or Sam’s
Club? We’ll get there soon or fairly
soon or …
Meanwhile, I will relive good
old days with good old friends, and
I will consider it my mission to make
new friends. I will keep my cellphone
in my pocket and nod, wave, greet
and, sooner or later, ask around.
Still got more stuff to donate, by
the way. .•
After 25 years, Dale Moss
retired as Indiana columnist for
The Courier-Journal. He now
writes weekly for the News and
Tribune. Dale and his wife Jean
live in Jeffersonville in a house
that has been in his family
since the Civil War. Dale’s e-
mail is dale.moss@twc.com
Southern Indiana Living • Jan/Feb 2023 • 11