Thanks to hot flashes, my 52-year-old baby boomer sweat glands work harder than Hollywood’s plastic surgeons. So doesn’t it make perfect sense that if you produce enough sweat to power a nuclear reactor, you are losing weight?

At least it made perfect sense at 2 a.m. as I leaped out of bed to turn on the fan, turn off the heat and tear off all the covers. “That’s it!” I cried. Menopause is the answer!”

“Huh? What? Give me a blanket,” my poor husband said. “‘I’m freezing.”

“Roll over,” I said. “It’s just a bad dream.”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled and tried to cover himself with ruffly pillow shams.

The next morning, I was ready to attack the mall and try on smaller clothes, completely ignoring the fact that my old clothes fit the same as before. But nothing will stop a woman – from the largest to the smallest – if she thinks she’s found a way to drop a few pounds without trying.

Just ask my sister. We spent years trolling the diet world together.

We did the Beer-and-Bananas Diet. We lost no weight, but giggled all day. We did the Eat-All-Your-Calories-By-11 a.m.-Then-Starve-All-Day-Diet. That lasted until noon on the first day. We ordered “diet candy” (remember chocolate “AYDS?”) and ate the whole box in 48 hours. It was supposed to last four weeks.

We almost bought a plastic suit that hooked to a vacuum and promised to make you buff while you cleaned. We wanted smaller thighs… but not so badly that we’d do more housework. And after all that, I thought, it turns out there is going to be an upside to being a human inferno.

I explained my theory at breakfast. “Every night I sweat. Every day I sweat. It’s gotta pay off,” I said.

My husband looked confused. “Let me get this straight. Menopause, which you said yesterday is making you crazy, is now making you lose weight?” he said.

He circled around me slowly to see if I was armed. I thought he was evaluating my backside.

“What? I look fat? Are you saying I look fat?!?” I glared.

He did not respond. He did what he has learned through experience is the best way to handle this question. He went to the garage. Quickly.

Kathleen Norton

My first stop at the mall was the jeans rack, where all pants smaller than my usual size refused to go up over my keyster. The same happened with dresses and skirts, and in the Bathing Suit Department, where I invented four gymnastic moves as I tried to squeeze into things I had no business squeezing into.

There were only two possible explanations.

A) Every size tag was wrong.

B) My menopause weight-loss theory was for the birds.

Depressed, I sank into a chair in the shoe department, where an eager young salesgirl hungry for a commission shoved a sizing gadget on my foot. “Looks like 6-1/2,” she chirped.

As a major hot flash swept over me, I turned to her and said. “Look Tinkerbell, my feet have not been that small since I gave birth 28 years ago.”

“Well, they are a six-and-a-half now,” she sniffed. I looked down and could not believe my eyes. The menopause weight loss plan had worked, all right. But only on my feet.

That’s when my husband strolled by. “I lost weight in two places,” I huffed and wiped my brow. “Right foot and left foot. Geez, turn off that heat, would ya Tinkerbell?”

The poor man married to me looked at my steaming face. He looked at the frightened salesgirl. Then he did what any husband would do if his menopausal wife was in a rage because her feet lost weight.

He spun around, headed for the door and yelled: “I’ll be out in the car!”

You can read more of Kathleen’s humor at http://kathleennorton1.wordpress.com.

Jerry Shereshewsky of AdAge writes – Boomers are a very diverse group, with a 20-year age span dividing the youngest from the oldest. A friend of mine, age 50, recently attended his college reunion, where he met fraternity brothers with 2-year-old children and 2-year-old grandchildren — and this from precisely the same age cohort.

Click for the full story.

I have a 30-something brain in a 50-something body. You know what I’m talking about. And, like many of you, I have a bucket list. A list of “do-before-I-die” dreams inspired by the nagging sense that time is running out. The sands in my hourglass have shifted – more sand rests in the bottom than the top. So what did I do? I tackled the list.

Item number one: learn to play the violin. Sweet! That one should be easy. Doesn’t require airline reservations or vast sums of cash. Just order a student violin, the kind that comes in a package: violin, two bows, rosin, strings, bridge, carrying case, even an electronic tuner thrown in to sweeten the deal. Just over a hundred bucks. At least if I decide it’s not for me, I won’t lose my shirt on the deal.

Why couldn’t I learn the violin? I taught myself to play the guitar when I was 15. How hard can a violin be? They both have strings, right? I learned how to drive a standard shift– surely I can bow and make notes at the same time.

I was giddy when my violin finally arrived. I tore at the packaging, pulling the case from the cardboard rubble. I was six-years-old again, thrilling at the mystery of Christmas morning. I gasped as I opened the case and lifted the blanket off the violin. It was beautiful! A shiny, rich cherry-wood color with boxwood pegs and a black fingerboard. The bridge had been removed for shipping; the strings lay limp against the ebony background. A boxwood chin-rest and tail-piece fleshed out the bottom of the body.

Charlene Anderson

I had done my research. I knew how to set it up, how to turn a mute wooden box, albeit a graceful one, into a singing marvel. I placed the bridge, tightened the strings, and tuned it to perfect pitch.

Then I unwrapped one of the bows, tightened the horse hair, and rosined it up. But gently running the bow across the strings, I was dismayed. Where was that beautiful sound I could hear in my mind?

Fine – back to the drawing board. Thank heaven for the internet!

After more hours of research, deciphering good information from bad, I developed a game plan. I ordered books on learning to play stringed instruments. I tracked down sites and YouTube videos on violin form, bowing, and left-hand work. I put my bow away, and spent a week teaching myself to play tunes ‘pizzicato,’ plucking the strings with my right hand while my left formed the notes.

My fingers ached; my muscles rebelled against the unusual positioning. I struggled to persevere despite my need for perfection. I needed a teacher, someone to watch me, to point out my mistakes – a guru to halt my bad habits before they became dangerous.

Soooo…back to the internet. I searched for local violin teachers. Once again, my investigative skills were required to cull the mildly experienced from the gems. I wanted a virtuoso. I wanted a teacher who was passionate about the violin, who had played since childhood and was in demand from performing orchestras. And the clincher – the teacher had to love working with adult students.

I found one. She is golden. Helena’s enthusiasm pushes me forward when my bow produces a sound more akin to a cat with its tail caught in the door than heavenly music. Her determination bolsters me when I’m certain I’d be more adept at breaking concrete than mastering this ancient instrument. Her praise and love for the art inspire me at every turn.

Yesterday, during our lesson, I groaned over my inability to “get it.” Helena smiled at me and said, “One day, you will play beautiful music.”

“One day,” but not today, not tomorrow. I know I’m a long way from playing beautiful music, but I see my progress.

Right now, I am working on a particularly difficult piece. My bow skips and bounces. It alternately squawks and squeals, refusing to keep its designated place. But just when I’m ready to give up in disgust, it glues itself to the strings. My body relaxes, and the ensuing notes rise clear and pure, shimmering in their perfection. The heavens open, a shaft of golden light envelopes me, and I’m certain I can hear the angels weep. Yes, I’ll keep learning, keep going…

The violin has taught me many things: the beauty in precision, the value of patience, the reward of perseverance. Most of all, it has taught me never to let go of my dreams. Easy or not, they are worth fighting for, especially as the hourglass sands run a little thin.

Tom Brokaw

Just as the Baby Boom generation changed American culture in the post-World War II era, the first wave of Boomers reaching retirement age are changing how and where Americans spend their post-career years.

It’s a common perception that when Americans reach retirement age, they move to warmer, more senior-friendly environments far from the hustle and bustle of cities.
However, a 2005 study based on the 1990 and 2000 census reveals that for the decade before the turn of the century, the overwhelming majority of American retirees prefer not to move if they could avoid it, and have become more stable as they age, choosing to remain in their current homes or the same general vicinity.

In 2000, 41.5 million out of 46 million people (90.6 percent) aged 60+ remained in the same house or county, and the report identified this group as “residentially stable”. Less than 10 percent percent of the 60+ population (referred to as “residentially mobile”) moved across state or county borders. Reasons for this decision range from proximity to children and financial situations to community attachment and availability of amenities.

Tom Brokaw and Tom Hanks, baby boomer.

But with the Boomer generation (born between 1946-1964) preparing for retirement, this trend is set to change— and change dramatically. Unlike their parents and the generations before them, Boomers are increasingly willing to relocate upon retirement, and their choices of locations are becoming more active, youthful and far-removed from the stereotypical retirement spots.

The increased willingness of Boomers to move greater distances than previous generations during their retirement years is summarized by a 2009 research project by AARP, which studied information on how the recession has affected housing situations and decisions of Baby Boomers. The report came at a time when the first wave of Boomers was set to begin retirement, although in many situations the decision to retire may have been delayed because of the economic downturn.

The study found that only 79 percent of Baby Boomers want to stay in their current homes as they age, with older Boomers (83 percent) more likely to say they want to remain in their homes than younger Boomers (76 percent). Compared to the 1990 and 2000 census data, these numbers demonstrate a shifting trend: The later in the 20th century that a member of the population is born, the more likely they are to move (or want to move) their primary residence in retirement.

Tom Brokaw speaks with boomer Cheryl Elliot at the University of Michigan.

The report includes several telling examples of how pending retirees are dealing with the current state of the economy. One person described their experience in the wake of the housing crisis: “We sold one house at a loss, a significant loss. That combined with the fact that both my wife and I aren’t working regular jobs right now, that’s held us off from buying another house in a different community.”

Despite the economy, and perhaps because of it, the relocation trend Baby Boomers are demonstrating is likely to continue and may even accelerate. “The trend is definitely true, especially in places where taxes are high,” says Jerry Lynch, who is a certified financial planner and owner of JFL Consulting, which offers investment and retirement advisory services.

“People heading into retirement could pay for a portion of a new home just with the money they’d pay over that period in taxes, if they live in places like New York or New Jersey,” he says. He estimates that among his clientele in the tri-state area, 25-30 percent of individuals near retirement age are “adamant” about relocating, while another 25-30 percent would like to move, but are waiting to see what happens in the economy and where their children are moving, a number well above the national average.

For individuals looking to retire in the next 5-10 years, Lynch suggests an interesting strategy: “Start looking at places where you’d go on vacation, preferably somewhere you can buy a home at a discount. Because 401(K) contributions, in reality, are only tax-deferred (not truly tax free, as you must pay taxes on them in the future), you can reduce your contributions to your retirement plan and use the money on to help pay the mortgage interest or taxes on a home you can buy today. These payments are tax deductible, and provided that you live in the home for at least 2 out of 5 years, any gains in property value are tax free up to $500,000.”

Not only are Boomers more likely to relocate, but their choices of relocation destinations are changing as well, shifting the paradigm for aging in America.

Watch “Tom Brokaw Reports: Boomer$!“, Thursday, March 4 at 9pm ET on CNBC. The program will also air Saturday, March 6 at 7pm ET; Sunday, March 7th at 9pm ET; and Monday, March 8th at 8pm ET.

If you can’t wait that long, at least try to avoid taking Social Security until 66 — that will increase the size of your checks by one third. Sure, you’ll forgo some income in those early years, but you’ll make up the difference quickly once those larger checks start coming in.

Click here for the whole story.

Jeff Wayne

I am a show business junkie and a “Baby Boomer.” I not only make my living in show business, but I collect show business memorabilia from the good old days. Autographs, pictures, letters, books, magazines, props. Through the years I have managed to acquire some very odd items, which makes sense since I am a odd person.

In my memorabilia collection you will find Oscar Wilde’s calling card from one of his visits to the United States. It is framed and hangs in my den. And a 3-D, electronic photograph of Lou Costello (a hologram). It is so lifelike, I feel like I’m looking right in his eyes! Who’s on first? You Lou, always. Bing Crosby’s ice cream containers and Bing Crosby’s record cleaners. I guess you can use them on CDs. I don’t know, I don’t have any.

And, there’s a privately-published magazine written and published by Lenny Bruce. This was given to me by his mother and autographed to me. By Sally Marr! She was more of a character than Lenny, and while she had a dirty mouth, she didn’t do drugs.

Dean Martin (L) with Jerry Lewis

I have some of Dean Martin’s home movies, some of Al Jolson’s home movies, and a private recording Dean Martin made for Jerry Lewis’s birthday, circa 1953. Scott Lewis, son of Jerry, became a friend of mine. Strangely, I knew his father before I knew him. Scott is a real classy guy, and knowing my love of his father and show business, he presented me with a rare gift one day long, long ago. It is a 78 RPM record which was recorded by Dean as a birthday present for Jerry. I believe Scott said this was around 1953.

Dean was recording for Capital records at that time, so he probably recorded it there.

It has special lyrics and is recorded with a full orchestra (Nelson Riddle), with a good arrangement considering this is a one-shot joke. The song is sung in the manner of the day, in typical Dino style. The joke is that he was happy and content being a blackjack dealer in Steubenville, Ohio (his hometown) and since teaming with Jerry his life is hell!

Work, work, work, and bills, bills, bills, and income taxes too! In the manner of a Friars’ Club roast, there is some joshing by insults, i.e. the chorus, “You rat face, you bastard, you Jew!” In these politically-correct times I am sure many will find this offensive, without considering that it was a personal recording only intended for Jerry, and it was a common humor shared by those “insiders.” (check it out at iTunes.)

Another member of the Rat Pack even sings for Le Roi du Crazy, which is what they call Jerry Lewis in France, where he is regarded a genius and total filmmaker! “The King of Crazy.” Has the Rat Pack ever been more popular than now? That is because we have no stars! Frank, Sammy, Dean! Retro is in!

Happy Birthday Jerry! March 16, 2010.

“Things are a little bit worse than had been expected,” said Social Security Administration Chief Actuary Stephen Goss. “Clearly, we’re going to be negative for a year or two.”

A look at some of the specific numbers makes clear the gravity of the deficit. In 2009, more than 2.7 million joined the giant retirement program, which was nearly half a million more than those who had enrolled in 2008. And 2008 had been considered a “busy” year of growth for the program before the 2009 figures were released. This brought the total number to more than 52 million, or one in every six Americans, who received Social Security benefits in 2009.

In 2008, Social Security received $63 billion more in taxes than it paid out in benefits. Last year, it collected only $3 billion more than it spent. The massive slide is attributed to both the spike in retired workers collecting benefits or disability, and an end of growth in payroll tax revenue, which before 2009 had been keeping pace with 4.5 percent average annual wage increases.

Sixty-five years ago, there were 40 workers paying into the Social Security program for every beneficiary that drew from it. That figure has fallen sharply to just over three workers to support each recipient.

Click here for the full story.

Marcia Barhydt

Okay, everyone, hands up if you tsk-tsked when you first read about Demi Moore and Ashton Kucher. You remember, she’s fifteen years older than he is? You remember, the time when you kind of shook your head and said, at least to yourself, “What is she thinking? Doesn’t she know how silly she looks? Is she that desperate for a guy?”

Come on, put your hand up, tell the truth! I know you thought that, just like most of the rest of us. We were kind of shocked, weren’t we, at such an outrageous partnering? Come ON, put your hand up! Because boy, I sure went tsk-tsk and raised my left eyebrow at the same time!

But now I’m repenting, recanting, and regretting. Because I see of course that I was being judgmental, that I was applying my beliefs to someone else, that I was being, yes, rigid.

The world is full of age-disparate relationships, and now with the disparity often on the other foot, with the woman the older of the two partners in a couple. It started way before Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate, and certainly it started before Demi and Ashton. Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins, together at least for 21 happy years, have a twelve-year age difference; Queen Elizabeth I and the Earl of Essex were 33 years apart in age. In both of these, the woman is the older of the two. And I’m sure it goes back way way further.

I’m not talking about cougars here— a cougar is a singles term applied to a woman over forty who sexually pursues younger men, typically more than eight years her junior. I’m talking here about couples in lasting relationships, not based on sexual pursuit only. I’m talking couples that just might include your girlfriend or your sister.

So for those of us celebrating the better half of our lives, this becomes a very viable alternative to the way we were raised to the rule that your guy had to be older than you, to the concept that there was something wrong with you if you could only attract a younger man. It’s almost mainstream now I think. It’s becoming just as common as same-sex couples and we no longer tsk-tsk them, do we? Well, not all of us.

And the thing is, it’s part of my own life right now too. Now that I’m dating again, I’m finding that generally men who are older than I are, well, um, OLD! I’m finding that there’s a mindset in many guys born before boomers that seems to turn them into dull, unimaginative, uncurious, boring people. I do cap my lower age limit at a mere eight years younger, and yes, I have been told a couple of times that I’m too old (not moments I relish remembering). But mostly, the matches that I’ve had with younger men have been good, exciting, interesting times. They’ve had more active minds too, more curious minds, with more interests than retirement to the cottage or the condo in Florida.

Age is an outlook, an approach to life, an attitude, a behavior, a character, a frame of mind. If my mind is young, then I’m young.

Doesn’t it all boil down to the fact that age isn’t a number? Who I am, who you are, isn’t defined by our number in years. Just as we’re not defined by our body shape, our hair color, our social status, or our sexual preference, neither are we defined by our age. End of sentence.

So move over Demi and Susan and Elizabeth I! There are a whole bunch of older women now dating, romancing, marrying, and living happily with younger men. Including me!

© Marcia Barhydt 2010

Read more by Marcia Barhydt. Click here.

A survey by the federal government found the percentage of people 50 and older using marijuana went from 1.9 percent in 2002 to 2.9 percent in 2008.

The rise was most dramatic among 55- to 59-year-olds. Their reported marijuana use more than tripled from 1.6 percent in 2002 to 5.1 percent. Observers expect further increases as 78 million boomers born between 1945 and 1964 age.

Click for the full story.

Just because we’re older, it doesn’t always mean we’re smarter. That’s why Gary Morgenstein’s new book for guys about dating might be useful. And not just for guys. A female reviewer wrote, “If you want to know what is really going on in the brain of the man you have just met for the first cup of coffee at Starbucks, if you want to understand why he suggested an organic/vegan restaurant for your second date, and if you are curious as to what he is planning for the third date, read this book.” Here’s an excerpt from “How to Find a Woman…Or Not (Volume 1).”

Gary Morgenstein

“When I asked where she was when Kennedy was shot she said, ‘Ted Kennedy was shot?!’”

Given that we live in a world where the media routinely acts as if every incident is a prelude to the end of civilization, you can only imagine what dating/informing a younger woman is like. Yet this is something guys want.

While certainly women fantasize about young men, they have a different mindset toward aging.

A woman will accept her aging, bitterly for sure, but for the non-Madonna-like female population, they understand they’re not 25 anymore. They want to look young and stylish and will inject Botox into every crevice and have their boobs enlarged or decreased and, if there are affordable methods to flatten the stomach or compress the tush, they’re all over that.

Unlike men, however, women won’t make complete and total fools of themselves in the dating process. Perhaps it’s the maternal gene. Perhaps they’re simply more mature or smarter. If a woman isn’t 25 anymore, she will grumble, but carry on.

Guys are different. We still think we’re young. Perhaps because we often bypass the cerebellum and go straight through the testicles.

No matter if you’re 30 or 50, every man views Jack Nicholson as his hero. There is no public shame in trotting out a young broad on his arm. He will get winks and nods and u go girl from his buds. To have a younger girlfriend without being rich/famous/dazzling looking is a remarkable achievement because, at the end of the day, women are simply more discerning about who they hang with.

We’re not, as long as they’re good-looking. If they’re younger, even better.

So how do you go about getting a younger woman? Yes to the guy holding up a sign in the fifth row, I’m going to define younger if you’d be patient. I’m the one up here all day while you can take naps and bathroom breaks.

To me, younger means a 15 year age difference. 20 tops. Anything wider borders on icky and, contrary to prevailing myth, guys can feel icky, too. Let me further define the icky. We would happily sleep with a woman 30 years our junior, but actually dating her, being seen in public, is different.

You’re 50. You pursue someone who is 35. Is it doable?

That all depends on whether you’re willing to have another family or start a family. A woman in her mid-30s, pushing 40, is nervous about the biological clock and the societal disdain of failing to uphold her breeding duties. Sad but true.

Ask a 40-year-old woman, single, childless, what it’s like to attend the birthday party of a friend’s child. The questions, the faint sighs, the bitchy reassurance that she’ll find someone before it’s too late. When a woman says, I don’t want children, that’s dismissed. Oh just wait until you find a guy, dearie, that will change. Talk about pressure.

But even when they don’t want children, they’ll want to know if you want children. In case they change their minds.

Is lying encouraged here? In good conscience, can I suggest you say:

1. Of course I want another family. I’d consider it an honor to diaper a baby at four in the morning. I‘m up peeing all night anyway.
2. Maybe playing catch with our kid would be good for my arthritic elbow.

You also better act fit. Ever look at the online profiles carefully? The women in their 40s who say they hike and kayak and ski, sorry, but that is much bullshit. Those are staged photos, like Mount Suribachi. The women in their 30s really do bungee jump.

How do you impress a young girl without appearing a fool in a hair piece?

1. By not trying too hard to be young.
2. She is going out with you because you aren’t 35.
3. You’ve already lost hair, found the first gray strand in the pubes, don’t fit into a size 31 waist, been fired at least twice, so you won’t get hysterical about these changes anymore.
4. She figures you’re more settled.
5. Settled not only financially, but emotionally, less willing — or able — to chase skirts

Perhaps the best selling point you have is your experience. You can hold a conversation. You can entertain her. You’re at the age where you won’t act like an imbecile (most of the time) and insist on playing touch football with your friends, wrecking your back and expecting her to nurse you.

Besides, she knows if you hurt your back, you’d be too ashamed to say anything lest she think you are older than dirt and one sneeze away from the grave.

She also knows you probably won’t come home reeking of booze because that’s out of your system. Many things are out of your system. Hello, it’s because your system is breaking down.

In short, you possess a certain intelligent maturity, an air of weary knowledge. Plus you might not make her crazy with too many sexual demands.