(This article is adapted from The Baby Boom: How It Got That Way And It Wasn't My Fault and I'll Never Do It Again by P.J. O'Rourke. Published by Atlantic Monthly Press.)

The Baby Boom, of which I’m a member, took charge of America (and hence, for all intents and purposes, the world) in 1988.  Everything’s all right. It turned out okay. Better than okay.
 
What We're Not Proud Of
There are some things the Baby Boom has done that we’re not proud of. We used up all the weird. Weird clothes, we wore them. Weird beards, we grew them. Weird words and phrases, we said them. Weird attitudes, we had them. Thus when it came time for the next generation to alarm and surprise us with their peculiarities, they were compelled to pierce their extremities and permanently ink their exposed flesh. That must have hurt. We apologize.
 
(MORE: Talkin’ Bout Our Generation: Myths and Reality)
Boomers also unleashed the safety hysteria on the world. I cannot get into my car without setting off a panic among admonitory bells and buzzers cautioning me to buckle this, close that, and lock the other thing.
 
How We Grew Up
Anyway, we grew up. We got jobs. We made money. We spent it on cocaine. Then we made money with junk bonds for leveraged buyouts. Until the LBO market collapsed and the Savings and Loan crisis happened and some of us, such as Michael Milken, had to go to jail. Then we made money in the dot.com bubble. Hope you’re not still waiting for the Webvan grocery delivery or the chew toy you ordered from Pets.com.  Then we made money with subprime mortgage lending securitization and collateralized debt obligations. Sorry about the foreclosure.
But whatever it is that the Baby Boom has and hasn’t done, it’s worked.
 
(MORE: How Boomers Rearranged the 3 Boxes of Life)
How Boomers Helped the World
Look at the balance sheet. The size of the world economy has more than tripled since Baby Boom students quit paying attention in Economics class. World trade has grown enormously.
 
I don’t want to take all the credit myself, but I did buy a cheap Indian batik bedspread after I got my first job. The per capita gross domestic product of India, in 2013 dollars, was $691 in 1972 and is $1,734 now. Then I bought some cheap Japanese stereo equipment. Japan’s per capita GDP went from $5,104 to $47,783 in the same period. Chinese electronics were even cheaper. China’s per capita GDP has gone from $724 to $6,741. And we haven’t done so badly ourselves, with U.S. per capita GDP now at $51,248.
 
More to the point, morally speaking, there’s the World Bank’s index of global extreme poverty. By which they do mean extreme — people living on less than $1.25 a day. In 1981, 52 percent of people in the developing world were that poor. By 2008 (the last year for which the World Bank has complete data), it was 22 percent.
 
(MORE: It’s Time for Boomers to Fix Their Bad Brand)
The earth’s increase in widespread well-being and decrease in widespread war couldn’t have happened without a generation of self-indulgent Americans avid for all the good things in life and disinclined to put themselves — and hence, for all intents and purposes, the world — to too much trouble.
 
A Few Glitches, Too
There have been some glitches in the Baby Boom’s beneficent self-indulgence, though, especially when we were young and impetuous.
 
The murder rate per 100,000 Americans went from 5.1 in 1960 to 10.2 in 1980 when the Baby Boom was between 16 and 34. We’ve gotten a grip on ourselves since then. The murder rate is back to where it was in the halcyon 1950s.
 
A more persistent problem with the Baby Boom’s beneficence is that we aren’t as good as we claim we mean to be at spreading the benefits around. Although America’s per capita wealth is 37 percent greater than it was when the boomers began their rise to national domination, 15.1 percent of American families are now living below the official federal poverty level. In 1972, the percentage was 11.9. Having 15.1 percent of the country below the poverty line is nothing to be complimented upon.
 
How the Experiment Turned Out
And yet we are the best generation in history. Which goes to show history stinks.
 
The Baby Boom was a carefully conducted scientific experiment. Take the biggest generation in the most important country, put them in excessively happy families, give them too much affection, extravagant freedom, scant responsibility, plenty of money, a modicum of peace (if they dodged the draft), a profusion of opportunity, and a collapse of traditional social standards.
 
You get better people. Well, not better. Taken one by one, we’re as maddeningly smug as Abel and as vile as Cain, the way people always have been. But we’re better behaved. Although better behaved isn’t the right way to put it either.
 
We’re willful, careless, rash, vain, indulged, and entitled — with larger than life personalities, providing the world with amusement, hearts in the right place even when our private parts aren’t, thinking noble thoughts somewhat thoughtlessly and being high-minded in a mindless sort of way.


P.J. O'Rourke: Boomers Got It Right (Mostly)

P.J. O'Rourke

The mission of Death Over Dim Sum is to "provide space for AAPI-centric discussions about aging, caregiving, and end-of-life." "Death and dying are not topics normalized to openly talk about, especially among Asian families," says Chrislyn Choo, 29, of My China Roots, a genealogy startup. 
"There's often denial about getting older and end of life or flippant comments attached to shame [with] comments like, 'You'll wish you listened to me when once I'm gone.'" 
For these reasons, Holly Chan and Elizabeth Wong founded Death Over Dim Sum, a workshop series geared toward opening up intergenerational dialogues about life, death and beyond.  
Why Dim Sum?
Wong, 48, has been a labor and delivery nurse for over 20 years. Wong says, "My role as a nurse working with birth doulas who offer comfort and support at the beginning of life made me wonder why there wasn't a similar doula-type role in helping people as they get older and transition through the end-of-life."  
"There's often denial about getting older and end of life or flippant comments."
Wong did some research and discovered that there were, in fact, end-of-life-doulas," so she trained to become one, later co-founding Beacon Light Doulas. As a Doulagivers training partner, she set up a Facebook page to spread word about their programs, which is how she met Chan. 
Chan, 29, a user experience designer in Seattle, explains, "I have been passionate about design innovations in the funeral industry and end-of-life care since I was in high school. While I was living in San Francisco I stumbled onto Elizabeth's page and followed it. Elizabeth messaged me and we started chatting online." 
The two decided to meet over coffee. They found that despite their different upbringings, they still had much in common when it came to their experiences as second-generation Chinese American women. 
The two began brainstorming on how they could work together. Their conversations led to the creation of Death Over Dim Sum. The first workshop was held in 2019 at the End of Life Festival hosted by Reimagine in San Francisco.   
They gathered six local experts — Wong among them — on various topics including palliative care, funeral arrangements and financial planning. Frank Chui, the owner of Hang Ah restaurant in San Francisco, agreed to donate the food.  
While it may seem odd to talk about heavy topics while enjoying fried rice and dumplings, the two believe it is an ideal combination. "In my family, we often talk over food because it's easier to handle tough conversations when our bellies are warm and full," explains Chan. 
"From personal experience, I found dim sum is often a comfort food in Chinese American families, so what better way to bring people together to talk about a taboo subject than over a delicious meal?"  
Creating a Comfortable Environment
Both Wong and Chan wanted to ensure an open conversation where all participants would feel safe expressing themselves. Although not mandatory, Wong and Chan do prioritize inviting bilingual subject matter experts who identify as Asian or Pacific Islander. 
"I grew up in Chinatown, highly immersed in Chinese culture and surrounded by first-generation immigrants, many of whom spoke limited English. It's important that participants can relate to the experts, understand the information presented and be comfortable asking questions."  
Because it can be difficult just knowing how to start the conversation, Wong and Chan modeled the workshop's structure after a traditional dim sum service. "Typically, dim sum involves picking out what food you want to eat from carts being pushed around a busy restaurant," explains Chan.
"It's important that participants can relate to the experts, understand the information presented and be comfortable asking questions." 
"At the beginning of the workshop, participants pick up a 'menu' of frequently asked questions, divided by subject matter. They are encouraged to check off what questions they would like to ask the experts, but unlike at a restaurant they are also encouraged to order 'off menu' with their own questions." 
James Liu, a Healthcare startup founder in San Francisco, attended the second Death Over Dim Sum in March 2023. He returned for the third workshop, but this time as a volunteer. Liu was pleasantly surprised by the casual and approachable nature of the event. 
Liu says, "I appreciated the breadth of the speakers and the topics covered, mixing in both practical topics, such as planning a funeral and what legal documents are required, to the more emotional and spiritual, like the goals of care conversations and navigating family dynamics."  
Different Reasons to Attend  
Thanks to a grant from San Francisco Palliative Work Group, Wong and Chan have been able to hold three workshops since their inaugural event.  
Currently their workshops have only taken place in the San Francisco area but they hope to expand them to Seattle and beyond in the future.   
"They helped us face our fear, like 'Let's talk about death and dying so they no longer scare or paralyze us.'" 
Participants in the workshops have ranged in age, background and reasons for attending. Choo lives with her aunt who is in her 60s so they attended a workshop together in March 2023. "Holly and Elizabeth created a helpful, safe space for intergenerational conversation," says Choo. "The atmosphere was serious but not intimidating. They helped us face our fear, like 'Let's talk about death and dying so they no longer scare or paralyze us.'" 
Dyanna Volvek, 39, of San Francisco attended a workshop in March 2023. She explains, "My partner and I have decided not to have children. People often ask me, 'If you don't have children, what will you do when you get older? Who will take care of you and your husband?' I explain that just because you have children doesn't mean they will take care of you. But these questions got me thinking about what I would do when I am older and my parents age, so I decided to attend the workshop." 
Taking Care of Elders
In Chinese families, it is common practice for multiple generations to live together with the expectation that they ultimately become older relatives' caretakers. Wong explains, "My mother, like many in our community, immigrated to America for a better life. Our parents and grandparents made sacrifices for us, and when they age, we feel it is our responsibility to do the same for them." 
"Our parents and grandparents made sacrifices for us, and when they age, we feel it is our responsibility to do the same for them." 
This feeling of responsibility can be daunting. "I feel guilty that I might not be able to care for my parents or grandparents due to financial constraints," explains Volvek. "It was helpful to be surrounded by other people who understood my feelings due to our shared cultural upbringing." 
Anni Chung, President and CEO of Self Help for the Elderly was an expert at two Death Over Dim Sum workshops.  Chung says, "Many of the second-generation adults have moved out of the area due to high rents or new work opportunities since Covid. But their elderly relatives may be stuck here. They need to know how to help their loved ones from a distance such as how to choose a facility or how to find a local bilingual caretaker."
People Wait Too Long to Discuss
Throughout her life, Wong has had to find a balance between respecting and honoring her mother 's wishes and inserting herself into conversations that raise safety concerns as her mother ages. "Older adults don't want to lose control or be perceived as frail," explains Wong. "Suggesting they might need a cane or walker can be met with resistance and even anger." 
"It may take several conversations. You must start early, go slowly and pull back when necessary."
That is why it is essential to bring up these problematic topics before an acute issue arises. Wong says, "It may take several conversations. You must start early, go slowly and pull back when necessary, perhaps revisiting the topics in a few weeks, months or even years." 
Another reason to have these conversations sooner is cost. "People underestimate the expense of long-term care and how much is not covered by Medicare," says Chung. "At the workshop, several elderly Cantonese people spoke candidly what they need at this point in their lives and the costs." 
Shared Meal, Shared Experiences
Attending the event caused Choo to rethink some of her views on death and dying. "I realize that it is possible to integrate and honor my family traditions while exploring creative, sustainable ways of passing on in peace," reflects Choo.  
In addition to the practical guidance offered by experts, Choo's favorite part of the event were the personal stories people shared around the table. "I loved the candid exchange of perspectives," says Choo. "I learned about a grandmother who took the initiative to set aside funds for her own funeral. She didn't want her family to feel stressed or financially burdened while they were grieving. The fact that death is pricey is something I had never thought about before." 
The conversations didn't end when Choo left the event. She says, "I posted an Instagram story about the workshop, which sparked a lot of interest from peers. A group of us are talking about forming a support circle to work on our living wills together." 
The workshop was also a starting point for further discussions with her aunt and her parents. Choo says, "I told my parents about Death Over Dim Sum and it led to discussing what they might want when they die. Knowing my parents' wishes will make these decisions easier for me when the time comes." 
Not Just Sad
Discussions about the end of life are most often associated with emotions such as fear and sadness. While these are valid feelings, surprisingly, these conversations can also invoke more pleasant emotions such as gratitude, humor, understanding and empathy.  
"The most consistent and inspirational message I've heard is that the dying process contains so many profound lessons around living." 
"The most consistent and inspirational message I've heard is that the dying process contains so many profound lessons around living," says Liu. "So, I wish we could discuss them earlier and more frequently, especially as it relates to how these conversations can inspire reflection and action on how we want to live in the moment." 
Talking about death can help people live more full lives. "Rather than rushing to say goodbye at the end, it's possible to say a 'long goodbye'," explains Choo. "Don't wait until your loved one is old or ill to tell them what they mean to you or things you want them to know. Start right now." 
Death Over Dim Sum's next event will be held on February 18, 2024 from 12-3 pm at the International Hotel Manilatown Center in San Francisco.


Death Over Dim Sum

Randi Mazzella

My closest friend from junior high school is getting married, and I'm at the bridal shower, eagerly waiting for the fun to begin. It's your basic bridal shower, brimming with balloons, brightly wrapped packages and a generous gift certificate for a "Day of Beauty" at the local salon, even though the bride-to-be is beautiful just the way she is.
"Even after loss and loneliness and sorrow, life can be filled with pristine beginnings,"The mood in the room is joyful, full of animated voices, sparkling eyes, bubbling laughter. It's your basic bridal shower, unusual only in that the guest of honor is driven to the party by her strapping 40-year-old son, who is more than a little amused that his mother is getting married again. 
The room is chock full of stories, enough to fill a library or two, because the women there have done a lot of living.
"It'll be pretty awesome to go to my own mother's wedding," he tells me, one of his mom's best friends, who had felt him kick inside her burgeoning belly, who had bounced him on my knee and applauded his triumphs as he grew from frenetic toddler to high school soccer star to proud college graduate.  
A Traditional Bridal Shower
Unlike the current trend of Jack and Jill parties, where the bride and groom celebrate with male and female family members, friends and co-workers, this is your traditional bridal shower — 25 "women of a certain age" huddled together in a suburban house, peeking out the curtained windows until a green Toyota Camry drives up, and then the excited whispers, "Ssshh, she's here, it's her!" A knock at the door, the chorus of "Surprise! Surprise!," cameras catching her shock and excitement, girlish giggles as she shrieks, "Look at me, I'm not even wearing a bra!"
The room is chock full of stories, enough to fill a library or two, because the women there have done a lot of living. Some of us are married or coupled, others single by choice or by chance. Several are hoping that the fates that have smiled on the guest of honor will lead them to their own happy endings. Some, like the bride, have been previously divorced. 
"Second marriages are a triumph of optimism over experience," says one laughing woman, sporting a diamond ring the size of a sugar cube.
It's your basic bridal shower, attended by guests whose bodies have been stretched and reshaped by pregnancy, childbirth or illness, whose flaws are artfully concealed by stylish, well-chosen clothing. The women there have a total of 57 offspring, with plenty of stepchildren in the mix, and we pass around our phones, proudly showing off pictures of loved ones and precious grandchildren, interspersing the "show-and-tell" with chatter about dental implants, cataracts and our favorite recipes for banana bread and beef stroganoff.               
For some of the women, life has not been easy. (When is it ever, really?) Two women are breast cancer survivors; another lost her son in a senseless motorcycle accident. A woman with multiple sclerosis careens around the room in a red scooter, decorated today with a gigantic silver bow. Her sister, also the bride's friend, walks slowly, her body still aching from the operation which had removed a fibroid the size of a grapefruit.  
The smiles are wide, the joy is palpable. It is a celebration in the finest sense of the word.
And yet, the smiles are wide, the joy is palpable. It is a celebration in the finest sense of the word. The food is delicious — crusty bagels, tuna and pasta shells in pesto sauce, chunks of Jarlsberg cheese and salami, a salad made with crunchy purple cabbage and fennel, glistening in an olive oil and soy dressing sweetened with a touch of honey, a fruit platter overflowing with strawberries and pineapple, a huge sheet cake crowned with pink and white icing. There's red wine and white, mimosas with fresh-squeezed orange juice, and of course plenty of Diet Coke for those of us still trying to maintain, or recapture, our girlish figures.
It is your basic bridal shower, but the bride-to-be, rarely at a loss for words, is nearly speechless as she gazes out at the room filled with friends she has known forever: some from the Barbie and pick-up sticks and Parcheesi days, others from high school and college, the rest from a life crammed full with Lamaze classes, PTA meetings, teaching jobs and a Parents Without Partners group, where she had laughed, cried and shared dating disaster tales and her new love story as it had evolved. The room is filled with memories and hope.
A Room Filled With Memories and Hope 
In a few months, we'll be together again for the wedding . . .  cocktails and champagne, lilies and baby's breath, a towering chocolate and raspberry wedding cake, candles and music. The bride, with just a touch of cleavage peeking out, will be resplendent in an ecru, mid-length dress — simple, elegant, purchased at a frenzied bridal emporium where the twenty-five year old bridal consultant, seeing her enter the store, had looked her up and down and said cheerily, "Mother of the bride, right?"
As she walks slowly down the aisle, hand clasped tightly with that of the man she loves more than life itself, the guests will be stunned by the radiance of her smile.
"No," she had replied, conscious of the silver-gray hairs shimmering in her still lustrous chestnut mane. "I'm … I'm the bride."
As she walks slowly down the aisle, hand clasped tightly with that of the man she loves more than life itself, the guests will be stunned by the radiance of her smile, and the haunting strains of the violin accompanying the wedding processional will be punctuated by the sound of gentle weeping.
It will be your basic marriage ceremony, beginning with the age-old words of love and commitment: "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine," ending with thunderous applause during the kiss that seems to go on forever. 
The dancing will begin, the tarantella and the hora and the electric slide, and the blushing bride, her skin pink and rosy, will dance for hours, undeterred by the hot flashes that will cause dewy strands of sweat to trickle down her face. Her dapper groom, clad in a midnight blue suit and a peppermint striped tie, will ignore the twinges from his slightly arthritic knees as he whirls his new wife around the dance floor, both of them drunk with delight at being part of a couple after so many years of being alone.
It will be your basic wedding day, beautiful in its simplicity, richly textured in its complexity, a heartfelt reminder that, even after loss and loneliness and sorrow, life can be filled with pristine beginnings, wonderful and shared experiences, and the whispered promises of a bright tomorrow.


A Shower of Joy

Barbra Williams Cosentino

My dad, a World War II veteran of the U.S. Naval Construction Battalions (aka the Navy Seabees) built a double-decker back porch at our two-story duplex, a brick barbecue pit in our back yard and three big closets in our basement. When my mother asked him to put in a second bathroom, he hung a fake urinal on a nail in one of those closets.
The author's father after a successful fishing trip.Mom laughed — and so did I. Daddy's sense of humor has inspired how I live, as have his deep love of reading and his innate generosity. Father's Day is the perfect time to honor my Greatest Generation dad.
Some Sundays, we had "double-header chicken," which took hours to cook because my father cranked up the grate on the grill, to accommodate the two games.
My love of baseball comes from my father. Every summer, on Sundays he and my grandfather would listen to the game on the radio while barbecuing chicken. While my mom and grandma fixed side dishes in the kitchen, my job was to bring cold beers out to the men now and then. Over time, I started sitting with them, learning about the game.
Sometimes, when my mother called out the back door to ask when dinner might be ready, Daddy would report, "It's only the bottom of the sixth" or "We have to break this tie first." Some Sundays, we had "double-header chicken," which took hours to cook because my father cranked up the grate on the grill, to accommodate the two games.
Reading Books Together 
On many Saturday nights, Daddy and I watched old movies together in the den, often while my mother read in the kitchen. Neither of my parents went to college, but both were avid readers. Like many of their generation, they belonged to a Book-of-the-Month club. Often, the three of us would bring different books to the dinner table, a practice now frowned on. "Wow — listen to this paragraph," one of us would say, and then read aloud. If we'd all read the same book, we would talk about it.
One summer, Daddy and I whipped through all of Ian Fleming's James Bond novels — and then laughed ever after, because neither of us could keep all the plots straight. I also read my dad's copy of "The Bluejacket's Manual," the enlightening handbook for all Navy personnel, and I spent time perusing the Teamster's contract, which my father, a truck driver and union shop steward, kept on our kitchen table.
The author's father, a World War II veteranAn avid fisherman, Daddy always baited the hook for me when our family went fishing because I was a squeamish kid who insisted on wrapping the doomed minnow or worm in a tissue before inserting the hook. Still, he taught me how to handle the tiller on the outboard motor so I could steer the boat out on a lake.
I learned the importance of expressing appreciation when I repeatedly saw my dad tip the letter carrier and the trash pick-up crew. At Christmas, he handed out bottles of whiskey; I make mini loaves of pumpkin bread. When a close friend had to give up his dog when he moved to a small apartment, Daddy convinced my mother to adopt his pal's pet.
Hanging Out on Saturdays 
Though many in his generation weren't much involved in infant care, when I was 8 or 9, sometimes my dad took me on his Saturday morning rounds. We might hit the barbershop or the hardware store (I love them still) or maybe we'd swing by my cousin's gas station to visit for a while.
At lunchtime, we'd enjoy sandwiches at the neighborhood tavern. I knew the place well, because families routinely gathered there on Friday nights, when dads lined up at the bar, moms talked at the tables in the center of the room and kids played Crazy Eights in the booths along the wall. We were loyal customers, because years before, the tavern owner had loaned my father the money to buy my mother's wedding ring. 
The author as a baby with her fatherGrowing up, I often heard great stories from his past. As a child during World War I, one day he ran into the backyard and gobbled up his family's entire monthly ration of butter. I also learned that a decade later, after his father had bought him a pony, Daddy traded the animal to another boy for a bicycle.
More than once, he talked about relishing the day he first tasted fresh pineapple in Hawaii, on a stop on his way to build airstrips on Guam during the war. We were a meat-and-potatoes family and my mom did most of the cooking, but each summer, my dad would make the occasional pot of succotash from fresh vegetables. He did not get along well with our new garbage disposal, and dismantled it one day when it mangled a spoon.
A 'Second Dad' for My Aunt
In some ways, parenting me was not my father's first experience. His sister, born 15 years after he was, often told me that he had served as "a second dad" for her, especially after their father died when she was 13 and their mother was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. "As I grew up, he was always reaching for his wallet," my aunt said, "offering me whatever money I might need."
When I was 16 and prone to gossiping about my classmates, Daddy would listen for a bit and then stop me with this challenge: "Run through your own backyard." 
He did his sister another big favor as well. When my aunt entered a convent the day after she graduated from high school, her big brother brought her back home the next day. He insisted she give that big a decision more time. Soon after, she met and married a wonderful man, and I owe my five first cousins to them.  
When I married at 21, my parents gave me the 1966 candy apple red Mustang that Daddy and I had convinced my mom our family needed to buy just a few years earlier. On the night my son was born, a year after my mother died, Daddy showed up at the hospital and promised me he'd buy the infant a Mustang when he turned 16. Sadly, my father died before he could make good on that.  
'If You're Going to Fall Down...' 
When I was 16 and prone to gossiping about my classmates, Daddy would listen for a bit and then stop me with this challenge: "Run through your own backyard." I remember my father's advice on another topic, too. Whenever I'm tempted to hurry — though that increases the chance for taking a tumble at my age — I remember Daddy's maxim, said only partly in jest: "If you're going to fall down, have a beer first so you don't get hurt."
When my father told a slightly off-color joke at the breakfast table the weekend I brought home my new college roommate, my mother and I held our breath until Janet burst out laughing, and then we joined right in.
I also recall laughing at Daddy's stock response to any unanswerable question: "Would you eat a cold potato if I warmed it for you?" He'd learned the saying as a boy, from Irish relatives.
"I loved your dad — he was fun," a cousin told me just recently. That he was, and I loved him too.


Memories of a Greatest Generation Dad

Patricia Corrigan

I will turn 50 next spring. My oldest child is in college. My youngest is applying to schools. My husband and I are spending hours talking about what shape the next stage of our lives will take. We're facing an empty nest, and midlife.
"Every day, despite the personal fulfillment I feel from writing, I open my laptop and try to legitimize to myself how I spend my time. It's a constant fight against my ego, against the voice that tells me I've wasted the chance to build a real career in writing. That until I find an agent or sell a book, I'm playing pretend at home."Unlike my husband, who approaches these discussions with a sense of adventure and opportunity, I feel the regret of lost time, of things I was too quick to quit, the panic of my window rapidly closing. I haven't succeeded at building a career, and it feels like I'm out of time.
As a child, I watched my mother struggle with defining herself professionally. She was smart, skilled, hard-working. But she had gone to college without any practical thoughts of supporting herself; when she divorced my dad, she took a job as a secretary and later, an editor. Over the years she worked in leadership positions, picked up an MBA, yet never saw herself as a success and often left jobs suddenly after short tenures.
Seeking My Calling
I didn't want to repeat her trajectory and vowed to steadily build a solid career. In my family, it was believed that the surefire path to success was through a PhD, regardless of any actual interest in academia. I started a doctoral program but didn't finish, and didn't even attend the graduation ceremony for my master's degree because of the sting of that first failure.
I worked in the nonprofit world, short stints managing projects in women's reproductive health care, education and family services. I asked for salary increases; I sought promotions — things I knew women had to do to advocate for their ascension. I became the director of a small evaluation team and fought for the support my staff needed to do their best work.
I also spent years unemployed outside the house, raising my two children.
When people ask me what I do, I say I'm a writer. But I know many of my friends and family, maybe the majority, see what I do as a hobby. Or at least, that's my fear.
With the exception of being home with my kids, and also working with my evaluation team, I never really liked my jobs, never felt like I'd found my calling. I spent years in endless, tortured self-doubt: What am I here to do? When I started writing about 10 years ago, some of that questioning quieted.
I'm proud of the writing practice I've built, starting with my first short story to publishing in literary journals, completing a novel and a story collection, and trying freelance work. When people ask me what I do, I say I'm a writer. But I know many of my friends and family, maybe the majority, see what I do as a hobby. Or at least, that's my fear.
Every day, despite the personal fulfillment I feel from writing, I open my laptop and try to legitimize to myself how I spend my time. It's a constant fight against my ego, against the voice that tells me I've wasted the chance to build a real career in writing. That until I find an agent or sell a book, I'm playing pretend at home.
And so I refresh a familiar cycle: (1) tell myself I'm not doing enough, not contributing enough to the world, not being a good enough role model of a professional woman for my children; (2) search for jobs I don't want just because I think they may quiet the self-criticism in my head; (3) recommit to my writing practice with new strategies — a stricter schedule, assignments to complete, workshops, conferences — to make it feel more like a "real job," supplemented with volunteer work and care for my family and friends.
Personal Success Isn't Enough
And go about everyday tasks that bring me pleasure and serve a purpose but still feed my self-doubt.
For example, after two hours in the kitchen turning farmers' market tomatoes into sauce, I have to tell myself I have worth. After a second round of reading through my son's college essays to help him learn how to tighten his writing, I have to tell myself I have worth. After sharing sample pitch letters with a writer friend, I have to tell myself I have worth.
Without a career — one that I have built over decades, one that pays a salary — I feel like a failure.
No matter how many small ways my actions might add up, they are not a career. And without a career — one that I have built over decades, one that pays a salary — I feel like a failure.
There are things I haven't given up on. My marriage. My children. My writing. Writing feels like my last chance for that professional stamp of approval I so desperately crave. I know I've come to it late; what if I can't catch up?
A friend recently enumerated all of the ways I am not failing: My marriage is strong and something my husband and I both prioritize; my children are amazing people with the support they need to pursue their passions; I'm valued as a friend, as a peer; I'm doing something I love, writing, and not letting the constant rejection — stories not published, agents uninterested — shut me down.
My Narrow Definition of Success
She talked about the time my husband and I spend with our extended families, our involvement in our communities, my volunteer work. And yet, I was in tears listening to her, because I can't square those joys, those privileges, those accomplishments with my narrow definition of success. I'm almost 50, and I don't have a career that matches my years of maturity.
It's hard to untangle all the reasons why I feel so devastated by this part of my life. If it were so important to me from the beginning, why didn't I follow a path that would have led me to where I say I wish I were today? Why did it matter whether my early jobs felt like a true calling? Why didn't I finish my PhD, just to finish it? Were my expectations too high?
Whose voices are in my head, repeating this failure? My mother's, recalling the disappointments she carried for her own shortchanged career? My friends', who work long hours at jobs where they are the bosses, where they are never able to turn off the demands?
I'm almost 50, and I don't have a career that matches my years of maturity.
Those boss-lady friends who have had the dynamic work lives I tell myself I should have pursued don't feel any more satisfied in their choices than I do; those successes haven't defined them, not really.
My husband has had incredible professional success. Does he judge his own self-worth as better than mine? No way. What he wants to do these days is grow a cutting garden from seed, but maybe it's easier for him to give himself permission to do this kind of thing, this hobby, because, by any calculation, he's already made significant impacts on his community through his career.
Why do professional achievements matter so much? I blame myself for my shortcomings, but I also exist in a society that devalues unpaid work. Devalues the work of women, the work of childrearing. The contributions of artists. No matter the reassurances from the people who love me, and despite my own strength and self-confidence, I can't shake the world I live in when it comes to how I judge myself.
So How Do I Make Peace?
Because I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted trying to assure myself that the way I spend my workdays is legitimate. I'm exhausted analyzing where I might have better understood myself early on to choose the right education, the right career; I'm exhausted second-guessing those years I spent at home raising my children, years I mostly loved and were good for the whole family. I'm exhausted reminding myself that I have skills, that I was successful in the traditional workplace and I'm having some success now as a writer.
I don't want to spend the second half of my life held captive by the failure of only a small part of me. But for now, that failure looms large.
What can I do about turning 50? My hope is that I can approach it with kindness. For myself.
It won't be easy.


Regrets of Things Past

Milena Nigam

You know about Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon and the Great Smoky Mountains National Parks. What about Rosie the Riveter WWII Home Front National Historical Park? Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Historical Park? Stonewall National Monument? Categorized as "idea parks" by the National Park Service, these sites focus on important ideas and moments in our nation's history rather than scenic vistas.
Three “Rosies” pose with NPS administrators, including K. Lynn Berry, Superintendent of Rosie the Riveter WW II Home Front National Historic Park. For the leaders who oversee these "idea" sites, the work — as well as the rewards — can be monumental. Following are the stories of five female National Park Superintendents, past and present, who spent their careers preserving history.
Shirley McKinneyFour Sites in Manhattan
"As park rangers like to say, 'we have green blood flowing through our veins,'" says Shirley McKinney, the superintendent of the National Park Service's Manhattan Sites. "We love our trees, but right now I'm hugging historic homes."
Shirley Mckinney at a Manhattan parks ceremony. She is Superintendent of National Park Service Manhattan sites. She oversees eight Manhattan area parks and one in Mount Vernon, including African Burial Ground National Monument, Hamilton Grange National Memorial, Stonewall National Monument and Theodore Roosevelt Birthplace.Since 2007, McKinney has overseen the Park Service's diverse collection of nine significant locations in New York City and one in Mt. Vernon, New York. Notable examples include the African Burial Ground National Monument — a revered pilgrimage site for Black family reunions — and Stonewall National Monument, a testament to the ongoing struggle for LGBT rights.
Interest in Hamilton Grange National Memorial — Alexander Hamilton's Manhattan home — has soared since the Broadway debut of "Hamilton," the hit musical that tells the story of that particular Founding Father. The show has renewed interest in Hamilton's life and legacy, drawing visitors to his former residence.
Similarly, the Theodore Roosevelt Birthplace, the childhood home of the 26th President, appeals to history buffs and road-trippers alike, offering a glimpse into the early life of one of America's most influential leaders.
"We call our visitors who visit the Theodore Roosevelt Birthplace 'Ted-ettes,'" McKinney says. "They love Theodore Roosevelt and they want to know everything about him." Roosevelt devotees may tour the townhouse where he was born, and then go to his house in Oyster Bay on nearby Long Island, where he resided when he was President.
"We love our trees, but right now I'm hugging historic homes."
McKinney has accompanied Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa on an emotional visit to the African Burial Ground. She also welcomed Barack Obama, the first African American president, and Kamala Harris, the first female and first African American vice president, on their official visits to Federal Hall and Stonewall Monument.
"It's been a great career," says McKinney, who began her 44-year National Park Service career as a stenographer, and has since served in places as diverse as the Indiana Dunes National Park and the Mount Rushmore National Memorial. "I have always recommended that someone pursue it."
Deanna MitchellHarriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Historical Park
Deanna Mitchell is Superintendent of Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Historical Park in Church Creek, Maryland. The Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Historical Park in Church Creek, Maryland, teaches visitors about Tubman and the series of secret routes and safe houses known as the Underground Railroad. On her own, Tubman had escaped enslavement in Maryland but repeatedly returned to the South to help more than 70 other enslaved people reach freedom via the Underground Railroad.
"When people come here, we emphasize her rich legacy and how she worked along the Underground Railroad and with other conductors in helping folks to see freedom in the North," says Deanna Mitchell, Park Superintendent.
"There's another side to Harriet Tubman — she was a naturalist," Mitchell adds. "She understood these landscapes. She learned how to rely on the sky. She knew the tributaries, and she knew these marshes like the back of her hand."
Mitchell, who has 20 years of service with the National Park system and 38 years with the federal government, completed a two-year legislative fellowship to prepare future leaders within the National Park Service. Before that, she served as site manager of Tuskegee Airman National Historic Site in Alabama.
K. Lynn BerryRosie the Riveter WWII Home Front National Historical Park
Not many National Park Superintendents get to introduce visitors to living heroes. K. Lynn Berry, who has overseen Rosie the Riveter WWII Home Front National Historical Park since 2022, recognizes this privilege.
General Superintendent K. Lynn Berry oversees four Contra Costa County Parks in the East Bay, in California. The sites are: Rosie the Riveter/WWII Home Front National Historical Park, John Muir National Historic Site, Eugene O'Neill National Historic Site, Port Chicago Naval Magazine National Memorial.On some Fridays, park visitors can meet women who worked in defense factories during World War II — and were celebrated in a famous poster depicting a fictional "Rosie the Riveter."
"Fridays are a popular day to come to the park's visitor and education center because the Rosies are there," says Berry, "and it truly is amazing to hear stories from history firsthand, from the people who lived it.
"And it's not just Rosies," she adds. "We are also so fortunate to have members of the Japanese American community from the Richmond area who tell the story of the Japanese American incarceration during the war and the ways their families, business and community were impacted."
Park sights that tell the home front story are spread throughout the city of Richmond, near San Francisco. The sights include Japanese American nurseries, a visitor center, shipyards, a field hospital, child development centers and housing built for the tens of thousands of workers who came to the Bay Area to build ships for the war effort.
"It truly is amazing to hear stories from history firsthand, from the people who lived it."
Because the Rosies are volunteers and in their late 90s or older, it's not possible to guarantee their attendance. When they aren't available, park docents are present to discuss them and their significant contributions, says Berry, who has 14 years of National Park service.
Lawmakers in Washington in April awarded Congressional Gold Medals to all of the women, collectively as "Rosie the Riveter," who joined the workforce during World War II, Berry says.
"Nearly 30 Rosies traveled to the award ceremony at the Capitol where they were presented the medal by the Speaker of the House and other members of Congress," she adds. "It was a great privilege to be there with them and I could not believe I had the good fortune to represent the National Park Service and to share a little bit about the work we do to carry on the legacy of the Rosies at our park."
Ahna WilsonWomen's Rights National Historical ParkThe Harriet Tubman National Historical Park
Since January 2021, Ahna Wilson, a 15-year National Parks Service veteran, has overseen two National Park Service sites in the Finger Lakes region of New York State,  Women's Rights National Historical Park in Seneca Falls and a new Harriet Tubman National Historical Park, which is scheduled to open to visitors in June in nearby Auburn.
Superintendent Ahna Wilson addresses the crowd in Declaration Park during Convention Days, an annual event at Women’s Rights National Historical Park in Seneca Falls, New York.The Women's Rights Park is composed of several buildings spread across the village of Seneca Falls, including a visitors' center, the restored Wesleyan Chapel that hosted the 1848 Women's Rights Convention and the home of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, a leading figure in the women's rights movement in the 19th century.
Each July, the park hosts Convention Days, a three-day event honoring the arduous struggle for women's suffrage and highlights Seneca Falls' pivotal role in history as the site of the first women's rights convention.
The newest and second national park honoring Tubman will tell her story after she settled in Auburn in 1859 and where she made her home until she died in 1913. Visitors can tour the Thompson Memorial A.M.E. Zion Church where she worshipped and where her funeral was held. Across the street is her final resting place, Fort Hill Cemetery. Nearby visitors can find the Harriet Tubman Home, a partner site managed by the nonprofit A.M.E. Zion Church.
Wilson, a 15-year National Parks Service veteran, says it was a privilege to build a team and open a new national park. "The stories we get to share at Harriet Tubman and the deep connections we're forging with the community . . . It's been an incredibly rewarding experience."
The Woman Behind Parks Honoring Women
Judy Hart is Founding Superintendent of Women’s Right’s National Park in Seneca Falls, New York. She was also the Chief Ranger for Legislation for the North Atlantic Region of the National Park Service and first superintendent of Rosie the Riveter World War II National Historical Park. Photo date: 1982In the 1970s, while working as a legislative affairs specialist for the National Park System, Judy Hart had an opportunity to suggest new national parks for the Northeast region. "At the time, there were 312 national parks, and only three were dedicated to women," she says.
Hart's supervisor loved the idea of adding parks exploring women's many vital contributions to the country, and before long Hart found herself deep in park planning. Her task: to find a site and structures that were up to the park services standards of historical significance. Her background in law and parks policies allowed her to negotiate many logistics, and a knack for diplomacy helped to unite factions and open doors.
"I was blessed with the perfect elevator statement: Did you know that women couldn't vote in this country until 1920?" she says. This statement was a key part of her communication strategy, helping to raise awareness and garner support for the park's establishment.
"I was blessed with the perfect elevator statement: Did you know that women couldn't vote in this country until 1920?"
Before long, she found herself in Seneca Falls, tasked with opening a park devoted to the birthplace of women's rights in the U.S. Her experience led her to write "A National Park for Women's Rights," a book in which she acknowledges the pivotal role many men — and women — played in the park's establishment.
Next up, says Hart, may be a book on her final national park assignment, as the founding superintendent of the Rosie the Riveter WWII Homefront National Historical Park. The park opened in October 2000.
Meeting real-life Rosies was a "soul-filling" experience, says Hart, who is now retired. "They were typically 80 to 85 — the feistiest, liveliest bunch of women I ever met. We'd talk for a while, and I'd end with, 'What did it mean to you?'
"Universally, they would say, 'I learned I could do anything.' "


Women Shaping History

Jackie Perrin

With diabetes, 2 + 2 don’t always equal 4, says John Zrebiec, chief of behavioral health at the Joslin Diabetes Center. “People who don’t have diabetes think that if you do everything right, it should turn out right. But with diabetes, you have to realize that the results you get aren't always equal to the effort you put in.”
Zrebiec notes that a typical person with diabetes has to make 90 to 200 decisions a day to deal with the chronic condition. What — and what not — to eat. When and how and if to exercise. When to take blood glucose readings and medications. How to pay for those medications. Those are just a few of the decisions.
Plus the disease is progressive, which means that what worked yesterday may not work today. And if you’re newly diagnosed, there can be difficulties around how to change long-standing behavior — like snacking before bed or mindless eating in front of the TV, says Jill O’Donnell, a registered nurse and certified diabetes educator at the Mayo Clinic in Fairmont, Minn.
“Sometimes people think they’ve been doing the same thing for the past five years and their diabetes is going to be unchanged,” says O’Donnell. “But that’s not the reality. They’re trying to figure out what they’ve done wrong, but it’s simply that their diabetes has progressed.”
The Stresses Add Up
All of which can lead to “diabetes distress” and in the most extreme cases, diabetes burnout. That’s the point where people with diabetes simply give up trying to monitor their care.
Too much frustration can also lead to symptoms that are similar to those found with depression, according to a study by the American Diabetes Association.
The study showed that symptoms of depression in people with type 2 diabetes can be “significantly reduced through interventions for diabetes distress.” It suggests that much of what is labeled as depression might not be a psychiatric disorder but “rather a reaction to living with a stressful, complex disease that is difficult to manage.”
Look at the Big Picture
So how to deal with diabetes frustration?
“Part of it is learning to reframe the issues,” says Andrea Braverman, clinical associate professor of psychiatry at Thomas Jefferson University. “You need to recognize that 'I neither succeed or fail when the numbers aren’t right' — it’s simply part of my ongoing management.'”
She acknowledges this is hard to do, “since people always want an 'A' on the test.” But Braverman argues that frustration can be reduced if you learn to make choices about your care rather than focusing on winning or losing.
“It’s like a batting average,” Braverman says. “You don’t judge yourself on a slump or a hot streak. It’s the average over time. When you’re doing well, tell yourself you’re appreciative and grateful, not that you’ve got this nailed. And when you’re in a slump, not that you’re terrible, but that this is part of the ebb and flow of the disease.”
Learning to problem-solve can also help.
“Instead of feeling defeated over a bad sugar reading, try to problem-solve by taking apart your day,” Braverman says. “Where did you get into trouble? For some people, it’s evening eating before the TV. What would happen if you didn’t eat at that time? Could that be a small change that might help?”
She also recommends experimenting with your care and trying new things, particularly for those newly diagnosed over 50.
Make New Choices
“The older you are, the more you might become set in your ways,” Braverman says. “Ask yourself, 'What would get me to try something new? Would I be willing to keep a food diary to track what I’m eating? Maybe I won’t go to the gym, but I am willing to take a walk around the block.' Instead of swinging for the fences, go for a single: set realistic instead of lofty goals.”
Rosalind Dorlen, a clinical psychologist in Summit, N.J., says, “While diabetes needs to be controlled, some factors may be out of the control of the person with diabetes. But there are a range of internal factors that we do have control over.”
To help her patients deal with these psychological variants, Dorlen offers a number of suggestions to help them become more aware of their disease and learn to accept it, which in turn can reduce frustration.
They include:
Seek wellness. Become aware of how you feel and the effects of eating certain kinds of foods. Learn to appreciate an overall feeling of wellness. “Too many people live in denial, and don't pay attention to their disease,” says Dorlen. “Recognize that you can go on a vacation for a week from monitoring, but can’t go on vacation from your body.”
Seek support. Talk to someone, whether it’s a support group or a trusted friend. “There is so much stigma attached to having a chronic illness. Being able to ask for support and help can be really helpful,” Dorlen says.
Get involved. “See if there is a diabetes walk in your town, look at diabetes blogs, listen to podcasts or participate in groups on social media,” Dorlen recommends. “It makes you realize you aren’t alone.”
Energize yourself. “You can’t avoid all stress, but you can reach out to nature, humor, self discovery, meditation and mindfulness,” says Dorlen. “Do something appropriately assertive to reduce stressors.”
Cultivate self-compassion. Accept that even if you are doing all the right things, the disease is progressive and not always in your control. “We may be doing the right things and not getting the right results, but there is something good in the process of doing good for oneself,” Dorlen  says.
 


How to Cope With the Many Stresses of Diabetes

Ilene Raymond Rush

Last summer, I bought a stevia plant with plans on snipping leaves and enjoying their flavor in my tea and lemonade all season.
After bringing the plant home, I set to work researching the different ways to use it. But I kept coming across articles declaring the dangers of stevia, and its past FDA-ban that had confusing nuances.
"Do I think a few leaves in tea is a problem? Probably not. There's a lot more problems in people's diets than a few leaves of stevia but I also don't think it's a health food."In the end, I held off and stuck to using my store-bought stevia packets. Better safe than sorry. But now it's gardening season. I occasionally use stevia packets in my morning coffee, and I was finding myself wondering about the actual stevia plant. Is there really a difference between store-bought stevia and the plant itself? Turns out, the answer to that surprised me.
Stevia and Its Uses
Stevia is a sugar substitute similar to artificial sweeteners because it doesn't raise your blood sugar, according to Claire Rifkin, RDN, a NYC-based private practice dietitian. It's about 200 to 300 times sweeter than table sugar. Unlike other sweeteners, it comes from a plant.
Is there really a difference between store-bought stevia and the plant itself? Turns out, the answer to that surprised me.
Besides eating the stevia leaves themselves, there's also the highly processed version you see in stores known as steviol glycosides. Stevia is used to flavor products you see in stores, but you can also use it to replace sugar in your drinks and baked goods.
Using it for baking isn't a one-to-one match with table sugar, so you'll have to make some adjustments in your recipe if you want to substitute stevia for table sugar. The conversion is 5 teaspoons of stevia for every cup of sugar, explains Kimberly Gomer, MS, RD, LD/N who is in private practice and director of nutrition at Body Beautiful Miami. 
It's even less when it's in liquid form, which is about 2 teaspoons of liquid stevia for every three-quarters cup of sugar. But since sugar also gives volume and texture to baking, you'll need to replace that lost bulking agent with something else, such as yogurt or applesauce.
The Effects of Sweeteners on the Body
Using a sweetener that doesn't cause a spike in blood sugar, and comes naturally from a plant has to be better, right? The American diet contains lots of sugar which can lead to health conditions such as high blood pressure, fatty liver disease, and type 2 diabetes.
"It's actually a drug, because of that sweetness and how it hits the brain."
But just because it comes from a plant doesn't make stevia healthier. Gomer explains that because it's 200 to 300 times sweeter than sugar, the body doesn't recognize stevia (and other artificial sweeteners) as food. "It's actually a drug, because of that sweetness and how it hits the brain," says Gomer.
According to the Cleveland Clinic, when you eat sugar, your brain releases dopamine, the feel-good chemical, similar to when someone smokes cigarettes. Eating sugar stimulates certain areas of the brain affected by addiction. Artificial sweeteners do the same thing, except that because they're so much sweeter than sugar, your nervous system becomes overloaded with dopamine. As Melissa Young, MD, states in the article, your body starts craving artificial sweeteners. "And it can be easier to give in to that craving because you think you're making a healthier choice."
Especially when that sweetener comes from a plant.
Can You Eat Stevia Leaves?
So going back to my garden and this beautiful stevia plant I had bought last year. It turns out, while I can pull a few leaves off my basil plant and use it on my wood-fire pizza, it doesn't work that way with the stevia leaf.
"Homegrown stevia is not going to be the same as commercially processed stevia."
"I would not recommend consuming whole stevia leaves even if you grow them in your garden," says Rifkin. You might be just fine, but you also might not be and that's simply because there's not enough research to tell us otherwise. The whole-leaf version of stevia isn't FDA-approved for use as a sweetener.
Because of concerns about it causing cancer, stevia was banned by the FDA in 1991. In 2008, the FDA revised its stance and granted high-purity stevia extracts as "generally recognized as safe" (GRAS). The same isn't true of whole-leaf stevia.
"Homegrown stevia is not going to be the same as commercially processed stevia. The safe part of stevia that we see on shelves is a specific part of the stevia leaf called steviol glycosides," explains Rifkin. She says to get to that specific part of the plant, it has to go through refinement and processing.
With whole leaf stevia, the FDA doesn't yet know the toxicological data, notes Gomer. 
"There's this distinction between the forms of stevia that highlights why it's so confusing because it's the opposite of what you think. You think 'natural' so that means the plant is healthy," says Gomer. "Do I think a few leaves in tea is a problem? Probably not. There's a lot more problems in people's diets than a few leaves of stevia but I also don't think it's a health food."
What About Stevia in the Grocery Store?
The stevia you buy in the grocery stores, the liquids and powder packets, are a different story, when it comes to safety. Because as Rifkin explains, the FDA deems stevia as safe as long as it's the highly processed and refined version.
"I think a lot of Americans, when they hear the words highly processed or highly refined, they might think it's bad, but in this case it's a good thing, because it's refining out the harmful elements of the stevia plant and making it a safe product for consumer use," says Rifkin.
With the highly processed stevia, there are still precautions. According to Rifkin, stevia can cause some people to have GI symptoms, such as diarrhea, upset stomach and bloating.
"If you add stevia to your diet and you're having these symptoms, that's a good indication to know stevia doesn't sit right for you and this isn't the sugar replacement for you," Rifkin says.
Stevia Safety
There's also such a thing as consuming too much stevia. The acceptable amount is what the World Health Organization defined as 4 mg per kilogram of body weight. For a 150-pound person, that's eating 10 packets of stevia daily.
There's also such a thing as consuming too much stevia. 
A lot of stevia, it's true, but this also calls attention to the safety of stevia for children. Children, of course, have lower body weights and Gomer warns to just avoid giving stevia to children because they can reach the toxic levels faster than in an adult.
But with whole-leaf stevia, it's probably best to just avoid it altogether. So why are these plants being sold in garden centers? It's a question I wondered about since learning the dangers of eating whole stevia leaves.
"It's because they're being sold under the assumption that people aren't going to eat it," says Rifkin. Which she agreed seems misleading. However, Rifkin explains that under the FDA rules about stevia, it's allowed to be sold at gardening centers under the assumption of it only being used for horticultural purposes, not as a sweetener for human consumption. In other words, it's pretty to look at in your garden, but could very well be toxic to you and it's probably best to not eat it at all.
Until we know more about stevia, stick to those found in stores. Better yet, says Gomer, put fresh lemon in your tea to make it taste better. If you're wanting to improve your health, try to avoid sugar and artificial sweeteners or sugar ‌as much as possible.


Is It Safe to Use Stevia?

Risa Kerslake

After retiring last year from tech, where he worked for 30 years, Bob Grand found joy and fulfillment in what, on the surface, appears to be an entirely different — and delicious — field: baking scones.
Greg Patent with popovers that he baked.Grand, who sells his (literally) homemade pastries at a farmers' market near his home in San Francisco, says that his vocation and avocation have more in common than one might think.
"Baking combines art, science and math," he says, adding that it also is a tactile activity using all the senses and results in a solid sense of achievement (not to mention delight from lucky consumers).
"Baking combines art, science and math." 
He bakes scones in 20 flavors, from sour cherry and chocolate to gruyere, rosemary and thyme. He makes about 115 per weekend, and most flavors quickly sell out. He could sell more but has no desire to "scale," a tech industry synonym for "grow." He doesn't even have a website.
Beginning with Bread
Grand is one of many men who enjoy late-in-life baking as a hobby. He started baking sourdough bread after taking a baking class a decade ago, then turned to scones for family and friends, borrowing from several recipes and tweaking to their tastes. Cheered by their enthusiastic response, Grand (whose tagline on packaging is "Everybody Must Get Sconed," inspired by a Bob Dylan song) decided to bring a "bit of indulgence" to his Noe Valley neighborhood.
Greg Patent, 84, was a professor of zoology at the University of Montana, but found the lure of food so intoxicating that while he was teaching, he co-hosted a radio show on Montana Public Radio and produced a TV show from his home kitchen in Missoula. Eventually, he left academia altogether to focus on cooking and baking.
He has written eight cookbooks, including the James Beard Award-winning "Baking in America," which traces how baking evolved over the past 200 years (and shares the origin stories of Lindy's cheesecake, Boston cream pie and other classics).
The Science of Baking
Another of his books, "A Baker's Odyssey," is about 32 immigrant cooking traditions. He visited home kitchens to collect recipes from Italy, Lebanon, Mexico, Norway, Poland, Portugal and Thailand, as well as African-American and Pennsylvania Dutch communities in the United States.
"As a scientist having to weigh things, I became much more aware of the science of baking and the precision involved," the former professor says. He always weighs ingredients on a scale, applauds recipes that also list the weight of ingredients in grams and is as eager to wax rhapsodic about flour as he is to share his recipe for rum-mocha walnut layer cake.
When a recipe calls for a cup of flour, it may sound simple, but isn't. "Whole-wheat or tapioca flour . . . are denser," Patent says. "Bleached flour, which weighs less, is what you want for a cake; unbleached flour is for bread. And how do you get flour into a cup? Do you scoop into a bag of flour and then level it off, or spoon it into a cup? And do you sift it first? It produces different amounts."
A Passion for Pies
Ron Kirchgessner, 64, a retired software developer in an Indianapolis suburb, made a deal with his wife, Julie Sturgeon, a freelance fiction book editor, when they married. "I cook, she cleans up the kitchen," he says. (She adds: "I have never regretted that decision.")
That rule began in his childhood, when he and his two siblings learned to cook for the family. "Whoever cooked didn't have to do the dishes," Kirchgessner recalls. "By 14, I was cooking at least half the meals for the week for our family."
"I think I bought a pie once, maybe 10 years ago."
For Thanksgiving when 30 people come to his house, he always bakes three pies. (He's downsized: In the past, it often was 10 to 20 pies.) He both baked and cooked a variety of small dishes for Turkey Day for 20 years. Even now, he brings a pie he made whenever he and his wife need to bring food somewhere.
"I've made pies since I was 15 — primarily apple, cherry, pumpkin and pecan — and used to make my own crust. I think I bought a pie once, maybe 10 years ago."
Conquering a Challenge
He doesn't let baking's reputation for precision hamper his creativity. Experienced enough to adapt recipes to his taste, he invents variations like Paganini did on the violin. "I'm not a person who really follows recipes," he says. "I do some measurements, but for the most part I juggle it and make changes. I don't make the exact same thing twice."
His sister-in-law's recipes are an exception. "A recipe from her is guaranteed to be golden," he says. "She used to make wedding cakes."
His masterpiece so far: an Italian cream cake with seven different types of nuts, from a church cookbook recipe. "It was one of my more challenging efforts — folded egg whites and all," he explains.
He loves nuts, but notes many cookbooks omit them. "If you add them you have to compensate by adding more moisture, which, depending on what I have, can be oil, butter or egg," the retired software engineer advises.
It All Began with COVID
Heard about all the bread baking done during COVID? Jesse Kramer, 67, a dermatologist in Sacramento, California, was ahead of the curve: He started baking sourdough more than 25 years ago, after medical school. He even built a brick oven in his backyard big enough to bake 12 loaves at a time, teaching himself masonry, at his former home in Redding, California.
"I'd make a dozen baguettes on the weekend, take 10 to the office on Monday, and give them to my staff and patients," Kramer says. "Patients would call on Friday before their Monday appointments to ask for bread. They didn't care about clearing up their psoriasis, they just wanted my bread," he jokes.
Kramer makes bagels often, plus cakes and pies like Key lime for family events. "But day in, day out, I bake bread. It appeals to me: It's like being a medical specialist — my comfort zone is knowing a lot about a confined area. Sourdough was so intriguing, the biology of keeping the culture going, I went head over heels."
"We're defined by our passions," says Kramer, who still works about 60 hours a week. "I just became very — well, my wife and kids say this is an obsession. I'm OK with that."
His passion for bread was honed by living in Sonoma County for decades. "I ate amazing artisanal bread there, often baked in Alan Scott ovens," he says, referring to a style of wood-burning brick oven designed by the late Australian baker.
A Community of Bakers on the Web
"I bought my sourdough starter from a Sonoma bakery, and kept it in multiple moves," Kramer recalls. He devoured cookbooks from Tartine Bakery in San Francisco (called "America's most influential bakery" by Bon Appetit) and Ken's Artisan Bakery in Portland, Oregon. "I was mostly attracted to books that had the best pictures."
He also followed websites like The Fresh Loaf and Breadtopia. "There's a wonderful set of videos and forums," he says. "You can be in a community, due to the whole social media part."
He also racked up awards: His French baguette won a Best in Show ribbon across all bread categories at the Shasta County fair in northern California, while his apple pie won third place in the Sonoma County fair in the state's wine-growing region.
Improvising In the Kitchen
His baking style evolves over time. "Initially when I tried a new recipe, I was very strict about following it exactly. I'm religiously scrupulous about it, and feel like I benefit from some experience," he says. "Once I'm comfortable, I then modify it over time."
"The aroma is always enticing, so you anticipate the taste and reap the rewards in the eating."
His hobby is an integral part of his daily life, and his ardor for it is contagious. "At lunch today, I had a sandwich with my bread. Last night, I had it toasted with a Meyer lemon marmalade that's to die for."
He has persuaded two sons-in-law to start baking bread. One is a pharmacist, the other a Harvard MBA who runs an inn in Slovenia.
Patent, the cookbook writer and former zoology professor, speaks for many of his fellow bakers when explaining his passion for the craft.
"I just love putting things together — cake batter or bread dough," he says. "Then the aroma is always enticing, so you anticipate the taste, and reap the rewards in the eating and seeing how much guests enjoy it. It's very emotional."


Game of Scones: Men Who Bake

Sharon McDonnell

According to ear, nose and throat doctors, one of the most significant complaints for many people over 50 is difficulty breathing through the nose. This can result from a common condition called nasal airway obstruction (NAO), which impacts more than 20 million Americans.
The most common symptoms of NAO include trouble sleeping, difficulty breathing through your nose during exertion or exercising, nasal congestion and frequent mouth breathing.The structure and ability of the nose to do its job changes over time.
NAO often hinders a person's sense of smell, ease of breathing and sleep. Still, it can also affect health and lead to more serious issues including medical episodes such as anxiety and panic attacks, loss of consciousness and cardiac issues.
Nasal Issues Increase with Age
The structure and ability of the nose to do its job changes over time. The soft tissue in the nose becomes more inflamed as people age. "It's not just our skin and joints that show the passage of time; the nose also undergoes changes which can impact its function, such as the nasal tip starting to droop due to a loss of structure and the skin in the nose becoming thinner due to a reduction in collagen and elastin," said Roheen Raithatha, MD, an otolaryngologist in New York City. 
"As our nose ages, the cartilage can gradually become weaker, and the lateral (side) wall of the nose may collapse more — either at rest or especially when one takes a deep breath into the nose. It really can impact someone's ability to breathe comfortably through their nose."
Common Symptoms
People often think of seeing an eye doctor to maintain healthy eyes or a dentist for their teeth, but they might need to see a specialist to check their nose and throat. Older people may be hesitant to see their doctor for NAO as they assume that the only options available for them are invasive procedures, especially if they have not gotten relief from the standard treatments such as nasal steroid sprays and allergy medicines like antihistamines, according to Raithatha.
"People should breathe primarily through the nose most of the day, including while exercising and while sleeping at night." 
The most common symptoms of NAO include trouble sleeping, difficulty breathing through your nose during exertion or exercising, nasal congestion and frequent mouth breathing. The ability to smell can also be affected. Additionally, being able to breathe slowly through an unblocked nose can help to ease anxiety. 
The nose filters debris from the air and humidifies and moisturizes the atmosphere as a person breathes in. "People should breathe primarily through the nose most of the day, including while exercising and while sleeping at night," said Raithatha.
"Breathing primarily through the mouth can contribute to ailments that may be harmful to older adults, such as decreased lung function, blood pressure and poor sleep quality, which impacts energy. Mouth breathing can also lead to dry mouth, bad breath, periodontal disease like gingivitis and cavities and snoring," he explained.
"Allergies can be a big factor as they can lead to swelling within the nasal passages and cause nasal congestion. Other factors that may contribute to NAO include a collapsed nasal valve, deviated nasal septum, swelling of the inferior turbinates (the long thin bones of the nose covered with a layer of tissue), and nasal polyps, among other issues," Raithatha said.
No Surgery Options
Daily saline rinses can clear out triggers of inflammation and mucus from the nose. Other first-line therapies include nasal steroid sprays, decongestants, antihistamines (oral and/or nasal), Breathe-Right Strips or nasal cones. Allergy testing can assess allergic causes of NAO. A complete exam by an ear, nose and throat (ENT) doctor, including a nasal endoscopy (a small camera to look in the nose), is helpful to determine the area/causes of the nasal airway blockage.
"Allergies can be a big factor as they can lead to swelling within the nasal passages and cause nasal congestion."
"When medications or sprays aren't effective or a patient is looking for something that offers lasting relief, we start to look at minimally and non-invasive therapies, which are preferred for older adults who have preexisting conditions and may not be good surgical candidates," noted Raithatha. 
In-office options for treating NAO include an isolated inferior turbinate reduction using radio frequency ablation or a microdebrider and a procedure to place a bioabsorbable nasal implant (called Latera) into the sidewall of the nose to support the upper and lower cartilages. "These two procedures, however, each just work on one component of NAO," he said.
Another office-based treatment, VivAer, uses radiofrequency technology to help remodel the side wall of the nose to help open the nasal valve and can also be used to reduce a swollen area on the surface of the nasal septum (nasal septal swell body) and reduce the inferior turbinates. 
For suitable candidates, the treatment — covered by Medicare and some insurance plans — is done under local and topical anesthesia with minimal recovery. Reduction of nasal obstruction symptoms lasts through two years, according to one study.  
A Successful Treatment 
Diana Packard, age 65, didn't know the cause of her loud nightly snoring or why she could not breathe fully, exercise like she wanted to or get a restful night's sleep. After a sleep study, she ended up with a CPAP machine. 
"When I go for a walk, I can get more air through my nose than I can through my mouth."
"However, due to my narrow nasal airways, I just couldn't breathe properly with my CPAP. I couldn't get enough air through my nose. I saw a sleep specialist, but the doctor had no recommendations for me," she said.
Frustrated, she found her way to an ENT, who did an exam and told her that she had NAO. After trying breathing strips to no avail, she received the VivAer procedure, which enabled her to take full and deep breaths through the nose, and her sense of smell returned. 
"I'm sleeping through the night just about every night now and my physical activity has improved, too. When I go for a walk, I can get more air through my nose than I can through my mouth. I love walking my dogs and being outside, and it's easier to recover when I need to catch my breath," Packard said.
While NAO is a common condition, it's often underdiagnosed and left untreated. "People should talk to an ENT about their symptoms, have a complete examination and ask about non-surgical treatment options," said Raithatha. 


Now Smell This…or Not

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