Larry Lefkowitz

There are lots of psychological reasons, I am sure. Most sound like hooey to me, but I am the common thread in all of the failures. I have gone to counseling about this and other things several times over the last few decades. It has always done me good. Each time I have come away feeling better about myself and things in general, yet I cannot keep my interest in a long-term relationship. I have been told that it is because I just haven’t met the right person yet. I have also been told by a friend that I am the most restless person he has ever met. The truth lies, of course, somewhere in between. Now, with remaining years frighteningly easy to count, it is harder than ever to find someone who fits. To aid in this search, I give you…online dating.

Online dating is the bag of potato chips that you cannot leave alone; a vortex of hope, fantasy, and deception; an enticing and intoxicating promise of blissful ever-after. The commercials claim wonderful numbers of successes and that inspires us lonely introverted souls to shop online. You will find splendid pictures of women so well-preserved at 59 that you feel self-conscious about your own looks. Strangely enough, if and when you get to meet them in person, you usually walk right past them because they look nothing like their 20-year old pictures. As if they would never have to show themselves.

Well, okay, I get the game. If you get to know someone by mail and telephone, their looks become less important. On the other hand, so many show up nuts that it is astonishing! Oh, the baggage we carry. I have mine tagged and stowed for the most part, but I’ve come to believe that I have looks and personality that attract women who are just this side of legally dysfunctional. I have had coffee with women who escaped from the home for the Criminally Heartbroken; on release from the Institute for Emotionally Damaged Submissives; escapees from the House of High Maintenance. The fact is, I am attracted to women who are just a little nuts, as I would never assert that my ducks are all in order, but carry-on luggage is as far as I go. Carloads of baggage I cannot handle.

So my search for companionship continues. I hope to meet someone in person and get to know her, but I fear that many coffee meetings with online people who are shopping are in my future. If nothing else, at least you meet new people. Good conversations occasionally occur. And who knows, maybe by sheer numbers, there might be a good fit.

In the meantime, I concern myself with wasting time. The reason a fit is so important to me is that I do not want anyone else wasting my time as I am perfectly capable of doing that myself, and I am used to my own demands. The idea of never finding someone is a possibility. However, I have been told that there is a lid for every pot and I have to believe that is true. After all, how much baggage can you put on a lid?

Larry Lefkowitz

As my birthday is mere days away, it is time for me to reflect on my journey through life that has gotten me to my fifty-eighth year in one piece … more or less.

The last couple of years have been trying, bringing about change that I anticipated but thought would come later on.

Just 18 months ago, I had triple-bypass surgery because my pipes were clogged. Not that I had lived a careless lifestyle when it comes to diet and exercise, but I was fighting genes that I did not request.

I couldn’t know that there was plaque I could not floss away. However, as a result, I now eat better and exercise as though exercise were religion. These, I figure, are good things. I look no different, but I feel better. And so at this point, it occurs to me that there are several things that deserve to be noted.

• Cleveland is a great name for a dog, but not so good for a city. The city of Cleveland has gotten the same rap as the Ford Edsel. It is synonymous with failure.
• Raising kids is a crapshoot. People who do everything right sometimes have kids who turn out all wrong, and vice versa. Unconditional love or tough love? Most of us love our offspring unconditionally, and I will bet that works out for the best in most cases. Having kids who love you back is the best thing in life.
• Cars are irrational elixirs for some of us. For me, a new or even a different car is as good as a new relationship with a woman. Well, almost.
• Music has greater meaning and impact as we get older, and older music that ages with us becomes a greater part of our makeup than we realize. My attachment and affection for Beatles music is as strong now as it was 20 years ago.
• Pizza is a necessity. I know, it is not good for you, but you can learn to make your own from healthy ingredients and it is still delicious. What yummier food is there?
• Politics are to be taken with a grain of salt. Many of the things people get worked up about today were also happening a hundred years ago. It’s true. It’s in books. You could look it up.
• There are more women in the world now than men. Now would be a good time to be on your best behavior, guys.

There are things you will never have, places you will never see, and things you will never know. Even if you live to be a hundred. Even if you live to two-hundred. So don’t worry and don’t lament.

It is senseless to wince over bad memories. So why do I do that? I don’t know, but somehow I think that is a good thing. If I didn’t care about the stupid stuff I have done, I wouldn’t even remember it, I think.

Near-death experiences are not all they are cracked up to be. Given a choice, I recommend avoiding them.

Shoes are neat to have. Putting on a new pair of shoes is the equivalent of putting on a new hat seventy years ago. Except, there are more shoe styles than there were hat styles.

You cannot live without worry. However, trying to is a good thing. So much damage can be done by stressing, and it is so hard not to stress in our world and at our age, but actively trying to reduce it is a worthwhile endeavor. Have a slice of pizza.

There was a massive generational group itching for something to call its own; a tsunami of creativity in the arts overflowing western shores; The Beatles, while not first, proved to be the most unique and enduring. Recently, I began reading biographies of the band. And in a related way, I read Eric Clapton’s autobiography. My perspective on the music and what it has meant to me has changed as a result, but in an unexpected way. I now feel even closer to it. I always mourned its end, and now, that feeling is even more intense, for while like a lot of people I have long attached music to different periods of my life, Beatles music has always been the most significant. As only Paul and Ringo remain with us, I feel a greater sense of loss of not only the music, but my ability to reach for my memories. Oh, they are still there, and I can still reach them, but they are losing their depth with passing years.

The books I have read have reminded me of what a special time my growing years were; the special hopes; the wonderful evolution of music and beliefs and possibilities. If you have not yet become completely jaded and cynical, you can identify. The events of the last 40 years—yes, FORTY — have hardened many of us. The times have snuffed out our optimism and bruised our spirit and made innocuous that which is truly fascinating. But for me, somehow, holding onto the music of The Beatles and others of that era, allows me to feel the world instead of running from it.

I have never traveled overseas, but in the words of the late Beatle George Harrison, “The farther one travels, the less one knows…” I journey every time I hear Beatles music to places I have been, places I have imagined, and places I have experienced. How rich is this music to still be able to affect me this way? How much of it is just me and my personality? My guess is that many of you feel pretty much the same.

My older brother Jack and I lived together in the summer of 1967. He is nine years older than I and is much closer to music of the ‘50s than The Beatles. However, that summer when I was 14, I bought Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band as soon as it arrived in the stores. I packed my bags and jumped on a train to spend a week with Jack, which turned out to be the entire Summer and part of the Fall.

Each afternoon and evening our ritual was to play the album repeatedly, discovering new sounds and changes each time that intrigued us. It made us hunger for more music, even though we had been playing instruments together since I was eight. We now needed to explore more, and in the late ‘60’s there was always more. But Sgt. Pepper’s expanded our outlook about what we wanted to hear, and play. It was our own creative revolution and has continued to this day, as we gather twice a month to play songs that we knew and those we continue to create.

Now that I have gained the perspective of the lives of John, Paul, George, and Ringo, I am more impressed and, frankly, astounded at the volume of work they created. The phenomenon of Beatlemania and the cultural revolution that was the ‘60s, coupled with their own maturing and distraction with illegal substances, almost runs contrary to the enduring musical legacy that remains with us nearly a half century later. How were they able to write and perform? As it turns out, with great difficulty, though you would never know by the quality of their music.

I am completely jaded, of course, and do not expect others of my time to be as passionate about the band and its music as I am, but I realize that my life as a baby boomer and this music are intertwined. The human aspect of the boys’ lives adds to the depth of my relationship with my past. It saddens me that only Paul and Ringo remain, and, that respectively they are 66 and 68 years old.

But I know how fortunate I am to have this music to hold on to, and how much more music theirs has given me. Even now I am discovering something that would give my Greatest Generation parents some satisfaction: the richness of their ‘30s and ‘40s music. As with all quality creative material, it will long survive its creators.

They say that old love is the best love, and that bad love is no love. There are also other things ‘they’ say about love, but all I am discovering is that it is as funny and fickle as it has ever been.

I am the product of two divorces, evidence that love changes and comes back to you … and leaves you again … and maybe comes back. Someone like me can never know if there is such a thing as everlasting love. But I am relearning what anyone would forget during a marriage. It is hard to get to know people, and harder as you get older. So much of what we know about ourselves becomes lost or compressed with age. When you converse with someone you are attracted to, it sort of comes out in an abridged version.

After all, most of us boomers probably have lived two-thirds of our lives already, and why would anyone want the detailed version? However, each person’s past has a direct effect on what a new couple’s future will be. I think it is important to share doubts, misgivings, and desires with a prospective new mate. Now visiting again with ladies who are complete strangers to me, I find I am reluctant to discuss the things that led to my divorces. Yet, some of those discussions are necessary for two important reasons: to be fair and provide information for them to evaluate, and to make clear that it is my intention to avoid any repetition of those things. While I have not found this to be a problem with women I have met, I have found it a problem with myself.

I don’t believe the circumstances of divorce are necessarily common, yet they are seldom unique. How to present one’s self objectively to a new friend of the opposite sex without running up red flags for them? To their abundant credit, I find women more willing to start fresh without lesions than men I have spoken to about this. Still, there is the common belief that a leopard never changes its spots, which means women will consider men on their current merits, but not without a degree of apprehension. I can’t say I blame them.

But how can one ever prove himself? My guess is that in time, fears and apprehensions will dissipate, but men have difficulty with the idea of ‘in time.’ We are notoriously impatient for all things, particularly for a relationship to progress. This comes from the burnt walnuts in our skulls. All of which is a deterrent, and gives us reason to avoid future relationships after failed marriages. But I believe that treating it that way is wrong and is to be discouraged. At our age, everyone has bags, misgivings, and apprehensions about innumerable issues. It is the ability to follow the voices inside that say ‘stop’ and ‘go’ that will determine whether there is love in your future. The problem is filtering those voices from all the other ones.

No one can do it but us.

I have resisted writing about this part of my personal life, because it’s painful….and some of you might be able to identify and commiserate because your lives have gone the same way. But what I decided was, the pro’s outweigh the con’s. For me…and maybe for you, too.

Last Fall, I ended my second marriage. There were all kinds of reasons, all mine, but mainly, I didn’t want to live with my wife’s baggage any longer. Her daughter’s behavior and how she dealt with it. Her ex-husband’s interference and how I was expected to tolerate it. I had tried to live with all this for almost seven years but there wasn’t enough progress to feel encouraged. I realized that I preferred to be alone rather than be frustrated and aggravated by being together. It got to the point where I was frustrated and aggravated more often than I was happy or content.

My now ex-wife is a wonderful person. I like, respect, and admire her. But I disagreed with those other parts of her life that had nothing to do with how she and I operated together. So, two years ago we split physically, and finalized the deal recently. We still hang out together sporadically.

To get to the point, at my age, I now feel a much stronger sense of mortality. I no longer want to wait as long for things to develop. My desire to compromise and sacrifice is diminished. Other than for my children, I feel I have sacrificed enough in relationships. Of course, it is also a consideration that I have not chosen the best partners, at least not the best partners for me. I am basically a restless person and need frequent mental stimulation. Meaning, I am not necessarily easy to live with.

On the other side of the coin, I am a good listener and am fairly selfless. But my attempts at marriage have been long and unsuccessful. So I decided to leave the institution for good. I no longer worry about being alone because alone does not have to mean lonely, and the stigma is for everyone else to worry about. I have many interests and hobbies, and if I begin to feel lonely, I go where people are. I am rarely disappointed when I’m around people. Often strangers will do or say something to make me laugh or feel good. I tell my daughters that I prefer it this way, and that they should not worry about their Dad being a solitary person.

I always thought that eventually, both of my marriages would change and I would be happier, have more fun, worry less, and be more challenged and inspired by the women with which I chose to spend my life. But it never happened for me, and though I enjoyed living with my recent ex, I did not enjoy living with her skeletons, which surfaced frequently and at inopportune times.

I now believe that I may just be ill-suited to marriage, if for no other reason than that I cannot choose well. But I think that, this late in the game, the development time is too great, the patience required is too much, and the chances for compatibility too slim, to think that I could be with someone the rest of my life. That last part is a key concern, for at my age, the end is much closer than the beginning.

Perhaps I have run out of patience, both with myself and with relationships. Perhaps I want too much; maybe I want too little. But I think I know what is best for me now. I know that you can’t force relationships to be. They either happen or they don’t. But no one can be molded into what another person wants or expects. Realizing that intellectually and accepting it emotionally are two different things.

For all of you who have married and unmarried, realize that life can be good with or without a mate. There is too little time to be unhappy. I am not sure happiness can be made. More now than before, I think it happens and you just have to be receptive to it to have it. Happiness is not a constant, so expecting it from a relationship is unrealistic. However, if it happens for you, you are lucky. I have not shut down or excluded anything, but I am much more passive now concerning relationships. If one happens that works, great. If not, that’s fine too.

Larry Lefkowitz

I have been a writer, mostly a technical writer, for most of my career. During the last couple of years, while I continuously have heard that the economy is picking up, I have been with several companies that either went out of business, or were bought out and disbanded. This has left me with virtually a constant search for employment, and I have been somewhat less than successful. Recently I completed a six-month consultant job for which I have not received compensation for the final month. Why not? I strongly suspect lack of funds (though they have offered no reason). My attempts to land another short-term contract have not been terribly successful despite more than 20 years of experience. Sound familiar? I am willing to bet that it does to many of you.

People 50 and over are generously referred to as “middle-aged,” though I doubt many of us will live to see 100. However, it is much better than being called “old.” However, being “middle-aged” has negative connotations to a great many human resource “professionals.” For one, it indicates high salary, though I, and many like me, will gladly work for less than our peak earnings. For another, it is strictly sheepskin, as these usually young college grads have no clue about how to evaluate talent except on educational qualifications. Yet another way our age hurts us is the perception that we are not flexible enough to learn and master new applications when the truth is that we are probably more adept at picking up new tools than our fresh-faced competition. So with this “middle” age come wisdom, pragmatism… and limited opportunities.

I have reasoned that my field has, at least temporarily, left me. Maybe I need to try something completely different. I went to my local chain pharmacy and applied for a job helping behind the counter. “Any retail experience?” No. “Pharmaceutical background (do those monosyllabic high school kids that hand me my prescriptions have that)?” No. “You know we can’t pay you anything near what you were making.” Yes, I know that. “Well, we are looking for entry-level people for this position.” Stop. One of the obstacles I know I have encountered in applying for less-skilled positions is the business’s fear that an investment will be made in me and then I will leave. But these Mensa hiring supervisors would rather hire a high school kid, pay him minimum wage, and see him leave before the third paycheck. Yeah, I guess I understand that.

After many futile attempts at retail employment (Home Depot, Lowes, etc.), I decided to apply for a job as an Internet Sales Consultant for a local mega-car dealer in my town. I was given a battery of psychological tests, which were evaluated by a psychiatrist, and a physical examination, which was laughable, and I was hired. I was sent to two weeks of training and then put at my desk to sell cars over the Internet.

The problem was, no one ever told me that the commission on such sales is minimal and that the only way to supplement the poverty-level salary is to move an insane number of cars out the door as quickly as possible, with as much junk tacked on as you can schmooze the unwitting buyer into taking. Worse, the veteran Internet sales guys already have the shortcuts down and know how to snipe the sales leads before anyone else knows they are there, leaving me with approximately one-tenth their volume. Given that I had to supply my own wardrobe and office supplies and tools, this job was actually costing me more than it was paying. For only the first time since I was a teenager, I quit a job with nothing else lined up.

Next, because I am a car nut, I will attempt to work in a parts store and make deliveries, hoping to earn enough money to support the mortgage while praying for a writing job so I can do what I do best. There is no doubt in my mind that I will find this all amusing at some point, but while you are treading in molasses, it sure gets sticky.