Our Memories Aren't Quite What They Used to...wait what was I saying? 03/08/24

Sometimes we get ideas out of thin air. Mostly from experience. And occasionally, from a reader’s experience. In this case a good buddy of mine, Peter Samberg, an excellent lawyer, has become an adjunct professor of Law at Mercy University, or more accurately, Legal Studies Program Coordinator, Mock Trial (in other words, adjunctpProfessor). He actually made a reference to everybody’s favorite lawyer, Joe Pesci in “My Cousin Vinny.” As it turns out, Pesci is everybody’s favorite lawyer who is older than 50. I mean c’mon now. who among us doesn’t remember “two yoots?” But in this case, when the good professor brought up a legal argument made in “My Cousin Vinny” he was met with a classroom full of blank stares. I’ve heard that from other adjunct professors I know. Any attempt at a cultural reference that has great meaning to us, has little or no meaning to them. Now to be fair, it works both ways. Case in point, I took my family to see “Hamilton” when it opened. When the epic duel happens, they sing a song “Ten Duel Commandments.” My son calmly turned to me and said, “Oh, he’s riffing off ‘The Ten Crack Commandment’ by the Notorious B.I.G.” Huh? Oh yeah. Of course. I knew that.

Our other effort this week happened when John and I asked each other how many telephone numbers we remember. Not many. And here’s the thing: I have an almost photographic memory for numbers. Before the cell phone became ubiquitous, I worked in a smallish (is that even a word?) ad agency of about 200 or so people. Everybody had a 4-digit extension attached to the agency’s main number. I still remember mine, X 5169. But here’s the thing. I knew almost everyone’s 4 digit extension. Seriously, people would come up to me and ask, “What’s Jessica’s extension?”And I knew. But now, no way. And it’s got nothing to do with aging. For example John and I call each other multiple times each week. Neither of us has any idea what the other guy’s number is. Why? Because of our damn cell phones. There’s no reason to remember anyone’s number. It’s just, “Hey Siri, call John.” But what happens if your cell phone dies? Those same phones give students no real reason to know their times tables in math. “Hey Siri, what’s 12 multiplied by 2?” These are all lost arts. But supposedly when your phone performs all these tasks, it frees your mind up for more conceptual thinking, like “I wonder what I’m gonna make for lunch?” Or “If I leave the house at 3:30 I’ll have plenty of time to get to the dentist’s office for my 4:15.”

Anyway, have a great weekend. I am off for a mid-week golf trip ‘cause that’s what you can do when you stop working a full-time job. I hope I remember my phone.

Andy and John

On high tops and Limitations 10/06/23

How many of us have forgotten their phones? In restaurants, bars, airplanes, taxi cabs, gas station convenience stores, and so on and so on. But some instances are more egregious than others. John was with someone (who shall go nameless to protect their identity) who left their phone on top of their car and drove away. But what made it worse is the phone was in a phone holder which also had room for multiple credit cards. When they realized their mistake they hightailed it back to the parking garage where they encountered a smashed iPhone, but miraculously, the credit cards were all there, scattered on the concrete. Point is, we all do it, even though we’re all so hopelessly dependent on those damn phones. I think the moral of the story is don’t leave your phone anywhere after you use it but back in your pocket or purse or man-bag if you carry one. And certainly don’t leave it in high, hard-to-see places.

Which brings me around to high chairs. Listen, I get it. It’s fun to sit at the bar. In fact, we have close friends who live in London, and when they go out they only like to sit at the bar. For yours truly, there’s two problems with that. For one, I am not only short, I am short-waisted. Which means my legs are proportionally longer than my torso. This sucks when attending movies and concerts, and driving certain makes of vehicles. Also sitting at high tops. But that part I can deal with. The part I absolutely hate is when my napkin invariably falls on the floor. First I stubbornly insist on trying to reach the napkin on the floor while still sitting in the chair. No can do. At least not anymore (it reminds me of a game I used to play with my son during a round of golf. It involved being able to pick up a golf ball from the rough, while in a moving golf cart. I used to be able to do it with about a 60% success rate, now, he does it. I have given up). Then, back to the high chair, I invariably excuse myself, push the chair back, climb down, pick up the napkin and resume eating, until my napkin falls again minutes later. This leads to the final indignity of tucking my napkin into my pants which just doesn’t seem dignified. Or fair.

And finally, for those of you who are wondering why I am writing an October blog in late September, it’s because I am off to Bhutan. Thanks for reading and being a fan of the New 60 and enjoy the fall weather. Just do it on a normal sized chair.

Andy and John

Here Comes Summer. 05/19/23

If you’ve gotten this far, you’ve likely seen both of today’s comics already. One dealt (mercifully) with Al’s final game as an ump. And the other deals with Marv settling in for the season with his new backyard setup. But first a word about the strip. Well it seems that Andy (that’s me) turned 70 last week, which begs the question, can a 70-year old still write about life in your 60’s? And the answer is, hell yeah. And John is still squarely in his 60’s. I can hear you 60 somethings sitting back there saying, I still play tennis while you play pickleball, I ride a real bike while you ride an e-bike, I walk 18 holes, blah, blah, blah. Let me tell you something, I can do everything you 60-year olds can do. Just not quite as well. And to tell the truth, I haven’t yet tried pickleball. Besides, as John points out, Charlie Brown never aged, nor did Lucy, or Popeye. And neither did Beetle Bailey, Dagwood Bumstead or for that matter, Dick Tracy. So the New 60 will continue to be the New 60, and besides, John is 5 years younger. And he plays tennis. And rides a real bike. Far. Which gets us back to summer.

Sure Al tried his hand at umping the boys of summer, but a brutal collision at home plate, getting barreled over by an aggressive 8-year old, ends his newest career path. Which is a good thing, because sooner or later he was bound to call his grandson Billy out at the plate, and who knows where that would’ve gone? Actually we do, but we’re not telling.

And then there’s Marv in his new backyard setup. When you have dreams like building a pool, buying a sports car or (in my wife’s case) traveling to Bhutan, if you don’t do it now, when are you gonna do it? Now is the time to go for it. Unless you’re like the long-suffering fans of the old Brooklyn Dodgers who, upon losing to the hated Yankees year after year (except for 1955 when they finally beat them), adopted the famous slogan, “Wait ‘til next year.”

Have a wonderful weekend, and we’ll be back next week with two new ones.

Andy and John

Who You Gonna Believe, Me or Your Lyin' Eyes? 04/07/23

I remember when my wife and I moved into our current home 8 years ago. It’s a complex of apartments and townhouses and our new “community” was throwing an open house. We walked inside the community clubhouse and were shocked at how old everybody looked. Now 8 years ago we were no spring chickens ourselves. We were 61 years old. And even though the complex didn’t bill itself as an ”Over 55 community,” there’s no doubt that is exactly what it is. And while you can recognize how old everybody looks to you, you can’t exactly verify how old you look to them. I was reminded of this moment when John pitched his “antiquities” idea. Because it relies on the fact that most people, in this case the security guard, have no clue how old they look to everybody else. Plus everyone has a weird reaction to age. I have one particular person in mind (whose name shall not be repeated in order to protect the guilty), who has never once revealed her age to anyone. At any time. For any reason. But here’s the thing, unless we are botoxed up the wazoo, your appearance gives you away. Maybe it's the fact that your hair is still blonde or jet black, long past when it should be. Maybe it’s walking with a cane or walker. Maybe it’s the fact than you can no longer read the menu without a flashlight plus reading glasses, but whatever it is, the fact is that most people know the truth. It’s like bald people with bad toupees, short people with ridiculously high heels, and even heavily botoxed people (I’m thinking of you, Jane Fonda in the movie “80 for Brady”), you ain’t foolin’ anyone. If we can’t tell whether your laughing or crying because your face is pulled back so tightly you know longer have expressions, it’s a sign you’re trying too hard.

Our other effort this week, comes from John and I discussing our exercise routines. I go to the gym and have seen a number of chubby personal trainers which led to the particular comic. Whereas John works out at home, with only his wife to make observations, and that led to this one. As we age, we hear reams of evidence that walking is the absolute best exercise you can undertake. Whereas other “experts” claim that weight bearing exercise is better because the muscles work overtime to repair themselves many hours after you’ve finished. In any case many of us are convinced that the way we are doing it is much better than the way other people are doing it. Then once in a while it takes a spouse, significant other or a really good friend who’s not afraid to tell you the truth. For me, all it takes is one good downward look from my wife in the general direction of my stomach to let me know it’s time to start skipping dessert for the next couple weeks.

So that is it for this week. One half of your favorite comic-writing team (Andy) is off to Patagonia for the next two weeks for an exciting adventure in aerobic exercise and altitude sickness, but fear not, there are two new comics per week in the pipeline for many weeks to come. See you soon and until then, enjoy this beautiful Spring.

Andy and John

On Forgetting and the Holidays

This is not about forgetting the holidays. We’re not THAT old yet. It’s about forgetting and the holidays. But the first comic is about forgetting where you parked. And I’m sorry to say that one happened to yours truly. My wife and I went out to dinner with another couple who were visiting us. After dinner was a jazz concert. Because the other couple wasn’t familiar with the area, the plan was that my wife Joanie went with the other husband in his car while I took the other wife in my car. Now get your collective minds out of the gutter. Nothing happened like that except when we walked out of the restaurant, I had no idea where I had parked. As in none. This wasn’t some understandable confusion, like not being able to find your car in a mall lot, an airport or a football stadium. Everybody does that. Don’t they? I mean, even a guy like John might lose his car there. But no, this was different. I couldn’t have been more than a block away. So I walked up the hill a block, down the hill two blocks (to make up for the one block uphill), and then back up to the starting place in front of the restaurant. I turned to my companion and shrugged my shoulders, and she suggested I use my key to unlock the car and maybe we’d see the flashing headlights. I heard but didn't see so finally I hit the “panic” button on the car key and eureka, there it was, one block away on the side street. Which begs the question do they call it a panic button because they know you are panicking? I always thought it was named “panic button,” because you’d use it in a panic, like if you saw somebody about to steal your car. But now I know better. In any case, while sheepishly recounting this to John, he suggested it might be better to have forgotten that Al didn’t drive after all. He had walked to the restaurant and forgotten. I’m still not sure which story is more pathetic.

But let’s get to Christmas. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, as those annoying car commercials never tire of telling us. You know the ones. They all have these stupid, oversized red bows on top of cars. I think Lexus started it but now BMW has joined the fray. If you’ve seen the commercial once, you’ve seen it a million times. This time the red bow appears on top of the house, a wind comes and blows it on top of the BMW, whereupon the perfectly coiffed, perfectly in shape grandpa comes out of the front door and thinks his son bought the car for him. Yeah, right. I believe that. And all of this has little to do with our holiday comic, delivered to your inbox two days before Christmas. John suggested Marv for Christmas because he’s rotund and jolly just like Santa. Mark is always struggling with his weight (who isn’t?) and that naturally led to Christmas cookies, and…you know the rest because chances are, you already read the comic. So happy holidays and we will see you next week before we finally get to next year. Where does the time go??

Andy and John

On Thanksgiving and Feeling Our Age 11/24/22

I was at physical therapy the other week, and I said something about Charlie Chaplin to the therapist who was working with me. Another therapist, a young woman in her late 20’s, looked over and said, “Who’s Charlie Chaplin?” Talk about feeling your age. I looked over and explained he was not only a famous writer, actor and director, he was also a songwriter. Yep that’s right, “Smile When Your Heart is Breaking” was written by Charlie, for his first movie with sound (they called them “talkies” back then) Limelight. But the point is, the comment made me think two things: 1) I must be really old and 2) she shoulda known. I mean, c’mon now. What’s that quote, something like “Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it”? What about those who never learned history? This is all a lead-in to our first comic of the week, second on your scroll, called “Phone Book.” John and I had, for lack of a better term, a lively discussion about whether or not a kid Sid’s age (approx 30) would know what a phone book was. John asked his kids and one of them said, “Yeah, it’s that thing I used to have to sit on to reach the dining room table.” That about says it all. I suggested John just tell him, “You know, it’s that thing that hangs in every phone booth.”

And next up is our annual Thanksgiving comic/poster. Nothing like eating and drinking 5,000 calories, getting a belly-full of tryptophan and settling on the couch to watch the third football game of the day, to knock you right the hell out. And it’s okay, because you’re with family and they would never dream of being judgmental. Here’s another thing to be thankful for. Ever since John and I left the world of advertising, we’ve become our own bosses. So when I want to take Thanksgiving off or write a short blog today because I’m leaving early tomorrow for my daughter’s house, I just look in the mirror and ask, “Hey Andy, can you write a quickie this week and then go on vacation?” John asked the same of himself. And surprise, surprise, we both said a resounding “YES!”

Have a Happy Thanksgiving and we will be back with you next week.

Andy and John

The Art of Compromise 11/11/22

First a little shoutout to a special grandniece, Emery. She has the coolest birthday, born 11/11/11, which makes her 11 years old today. If that doesn't make you want to go out and play the lottery… Anyway, happy 11th, Ms. 11/11/11. And now to the art of compromise. It applies to both our comics this week. The first of course was the final chapter in our “Bhutan” series. In real true life (as my son used to say when he was a little boy) my wife wants to go to Bhutan. You hike, you see temples and you eat…vegetables. The entire country is f’ing vegetarian. It also ranks at or near the top of something called a “World Happiness Index.” If one has anything to do with the other, I’d rather eat meat and be miserable. Ever see a 69-year old man who still pushes his vegetables to the side of the plate? Then you haven’t met me. John is much better in this regard. Except for peas.

The other comic in today’s feed was about getting a new dog. If you are in your 60’s or a little younger or a little older, you probably are struggling with this dilemma as we speak. Dogs are great. Man’s best friend and all that. They also are a major responsibility. Today, on a walk, I watched a couple with their dog. They threw a ball and the dog would bound away happily to fetch the ball and come racing back with it so they could do the sequence all over again. When the guy was talking to his girlfriend the dog would stand there, jumping up and down, way up in the air as if to say, “Hello…remember me? Throw!” And so they did. I got tired of watching before the dog got tired of running and jumping. So about compromise. My wife and I are on the same page on this one. At this point, with the kids out of the house, the last thing we want is to be tied down. I sense John and his wife may be straddling the fence on this one. Why? Because when we discussed the premise, John came out with a list of why not’s in under 20 seconds. Not that he’s been thinking about this subject or anything like that.

One last thought about compromise as it relates to going away on vacation. Some people like action/adventure vacations, diving, hiking, skiing, biking in places like the Maldives, Patagonia (no not the store) and even Bhutan, for heaven’s sake. While others prefer to relax and luxuriate with a spa, a beach, a golf course, stuff like that. My question is this: who WOULDN’T like that? Pass me the Pina Colada please? Oh, and the chips and guac.

Have a great weekend and we’ll see you next Friday with two new ones.

Andy and John.

Sucker of the Month Club. 10/28/22

In the past few blogs we have covered hacking, phishing and getting all your personal financial information stolen. What fun. I could write more about it but I don’t know anything more. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten hacked in the first place. So let us concentrate on our second comic, which deals with monthly subscriptions. No not the kind like you have for People Magazine. The kind of subscription we’re talking about is the “Sign up now for Disney+ to see the movie of the hit Broadway show Hamilton for the low, low price of $6.99” type of subscription. I certainly fell for that one. And if you’re like me, you write yourself a note to cancel said subscription at the end of the month, and then promptly forget to do so. Some 18 months later you notice the $6.99 monthly charge and go about cancelling but then you find out Season 3 of Ted Lasso is coming up soon so…

I once remember reading about the most contentious divorce case in U.S history. I don’t see how anything could be more contentious than the John Wayne and Lorenna Bobbit case when she sliced off his…anyway, this particular case was contentious as well. It featured a multibillionaire and his wife who was suing him for most of the profits. The reason to bring this up is because he made his billions selling subscriptions to just about anything you could think of. Subscriptions to pens, razors, perfumes, pipe tobacco, cheeses, fruits, etc. Studies have shown that a huge percentage of people who sign up for a subscription keep paying for it in perpetuity.

In our house for instance we have a subscription for clean sponges. Four new ones every two months. As well as for the traveling Quip toothbrush replacement brush heads and replacement batteries. Spotify, all those streaming services like Hulu and HBO+ we pay extra for because we still have cable, and on and on and on. Did you notice that whenever there’s a “+” sign it means that you will now have to pay extra for what you were already paying for? Here’s two more ridiculous examples. We have a music service called Deezer which, like Spotify, costs about $9.99 per month, but promises better audio quality. But my wife listens to a lot of podcasts and Deezer doesn’t carry one she loves. So she signed up for Spotify. Instead of the one person plan for $9.99 there was a family plan for $12.99. She signed and said I could now stop paying for Deezer. I said, “Cool,” and promptly forgot to cancel Deezer. Now we pay a total of $22.98 for what used to cost us $9.99. I know, I’ll get around to it. She also gifted me her Amazon Kindle and mentioned she took a $9.99 monthly subscription and I could read any book in their catalogue (much like Spotify). I said great and then tried to cancel it, but have no idea how to do so.

I think John does not suffer from the same foolishness because he’s the one that knew about the app that gathers all your subscriptions in one place, and unlike Al, he didn’t forget the password. So that is all she wrote for this week. Stay tuned for next Friday when we do the first two parts of a 3-part adventure travel series. This is precisely the kind of thing people our age engage in, as long as their neck/back/foot/migraine/shoulder/elbow/ankle pain doesn't get in the way.

See you then. Oops, got to answer the door. It’s time for my water of the month delivery.

Andy and John

Gone Phishing

Hello again. We’re baaaack! This time with a three part series about Phishing. Now we regaled you in a past blog entitled “Help Line,” about the horrors of phishing. To refresh your memories, what happened is that I got hacked. Deeply hacked. Someone went on what has come to be called a “Phishing Expedition” and attempted to steal all my personal financial information. They didn’t get it, but not before I had to change every password I’ve come to rely on. And if you are over 60, you know how vexing it is to remember multiple passwords, let alone one. So we’ve got a couple questions for you. Why is it called phishing instead of fishing? Don’t these people know how to spell? I remember a Latin teacher in 7th grade who said, “You think LATIN is tough, try learning English for the first time.” And then he wrote on the blackboard “gh-o-ti,” and said “fish.” The “gh” sound comes from the word “enough'“ the “o” sound from “women,” and the “ti” from “nation.” Fish. The rock band “Phish” ought to sue whoever called this habit “phishing,” but I digress. How did these clowns get into my computer in the first place? Oh wait, that’s because I inadvertently let them in. But that’s precisely the point. You know what was the most galling thing about it? When I explained what had happened, no matter how sympathetic the listener was, I got a chorus of “Oh Andy, you didn’t.” John for instance said, “You know I was warning my mother about the same thing.” I got so many responses from people in my general age group telling me about how they had to help their parents from getting trapped in a phishing scam that I was wondering, how come nobody warned me not too fall in this trap? And your parents??? I’m not your parents’ age, I’m your age. But at least John knew how to recognize the warning signs so that I can now catch them, and if not for John, Sid’s dialogue about phishing would not have qualified as good advice. So thanks John for teaching me and our readers (in part 3 - you’ll have to wait until next week) how to recognize the signs, but no thanks for making me feel even older than I actually am (though truth be told, I am 5 years older than him). Ugh.

It seems these scams get more and more sophisticated as time goes on. One is to call people our parent’s age and pretend to be one of their grandchildren. Something along the lines of, “Hello grandma? This is Timmy. I got into an accident and my car is in a ditch and I’ve got no way to get home. If you could send me $200 for a car service to pick me up I’d be soooo grateful.” And even though the call doesn't sound like Timmy, and even though Timmy parent’s are very much alive and able to help, these poor people are shaken and end up giving pertinent information about their bank accounts in order to help. In my particular case I was led to a totally professional webpage that said “Best Buy Refund Page.” Turns out being a digital pioneer is a lot tougher than it seems. For instance, my wife and I are staying at one of our kids’ houses soon to babysit their daughter and our beloved granddaughter (obviously, one in the same person). They have a tv and a remote, and gave me specific instructions on how to use it. I’m bringing along a book just in case I can’t figure it out again. But it’s an ebook, so it’s still digital, Well, kinda digital.

Have a great weekend and we’ll be back next Friday with the conclusion of the Phishing Expedition as well as a brand new one on a whole other kind of online scam.

Andy and John

To Sit or To Stand? 10/13/22

When it comes to peeing, it seems like we’ve got it all figured out, right? Men stand, women sit. But sometimes we find ourselves out of our comfort zones. In the case of a guy with a broken or twisted ankle, when you can’t put weight on a foot, you are forced to sit and pee. Conversely if a woman has to go really bad, and she’s say, hiking in the woods, she has no choice but to stand (alright, she squats, but that didn’t fit my sentence as well). As Al is about to find out, 1) nobody cares and 2) a lot of guys choose to sit. Who knew? Apparently John knew more than I did and that forms the basis for our two part series. Basically I did my part by breaking my ankle and learning the hard way, while John supplied the reasons a guy might sit.

Our two-part series this week deals with both points. The fact that nobody really cares, and the fact that however you do it is up to you. In fact, this topic is going to result in this week’s blog being mercifully short. Because, I can’t, for the life of me, think of one more thing to say about going #1. I leave you with this funny and true story:

After my bike accident in July, I spent the next couple months on crutches, or on a “knee stroller” and had no choice but to pee sitting down. One Sunday night in late August, my wife and I went out to dinner with another couple we’re very friendly with. Names, as always, are withheld to protect the guilty (and also to assure that I will have at least a couple of friends left after I finish blogging one day). The male part of this couple we had dinner with is both a very loyal friend and a very natty dresser. He is exceedingly neat and a bit germophobic. As we approached the end of the meal, my wife had a pre-existing zoom call and had to leave before dessert. She asked our friends if they would drive me home and help me up the steps to see that I got back in one piece. This was fine, except for one glaring omission. I had to go pee. And since it takes so much longer to do anything when you’re in a cast and on crutches, I knew I couldn't wait until I got home. The fact that the cast was up to right below my knee meant it wasn't going to be easy to pull my pants down, meaning I was going to pee standing up (at last, he comes back to the topic). This required asking my friend to accompany me to the men’s room of this very tony restaurant, and when I saw there was no rail to hang onto, I asked if I could support myself with my free hand by putting my arm around his shoulder. Fortunately for me, the loyal friend part of my friend won out over the fastidious part and he stood there allowing me to hang on his shoulder while emptying my bladder. Again, I never want to name names, but you, sir, are indeed a great buddy.

That’s it for this week. See you next week, same time, same place with two new ones. Enjoy your weekends and if you are a Mets fan like John and me, let It go, it’s time for football.

Andy and John.

Ever Try Changing Clothes in a car? Don't. 09/23/22

Earlier this summer, our son was invited to a friend’s wedding and was one of the groomsmen. My wife and I were invited as well. We had rented a beach house and drove, in our flip flops, shorts and tees, from Long Island to pick up our son at LaGuardia airport, to then proceed to the Catskill mountains, on a Friday afternoon, at rush hour. The total distance was approximately 2-3 light years. One of my favorite sayings is: Man Plans, God laughs. Our plan was to drive to the hotel where the kids were staying, drop our son off, giving him time to change into nice clothes for the rehearsal dinner. Then we’d go to our hotel, where all the old folks were staying, and change into the outfits we’d picked out for the dinner. It would make a hectic day seem a bit more relaxed. Brilliant right? What happened next gave us enough fodder to make this a 3-part saga, so we can't tell you the ending until next week’s blog. But think about this. If it’s true that when an ordinary man (or woman) makes plans, it causes God to laugh, then just think about how God reacts when AL attempts to make a plan. Trust us, God has plenty of new material.

What happened was there was a little bit of traffic. Okay, a lot of traffic. And cell phone service, once you get to the mountains, ohh, how can I say this politely, sucks the big one. Which means no Waze. Which means in addition to being late, we were lost. We dropped our son off and as we got to his hotel, the entire wedding party was leaving. So we waited for our son to change, and then we drove him to the rehearsal dinner so he wouldn't miss the whole thing. Now it was so late, if we turned back to our hotel, we’d have no chance to make it back to the rehearsal dinner in time. So we went to the upper parking lot, lined in gravel the size of rocks. Looked around and saw it was empty, and proceeded to pull our suitcases from the trunk and change, standing up, in the lot. The full Monty. I know it’s a pain to change while sitting in the car, but this was somehow worse. Imagine, if you will, standing on one foot on this big-rock gravel while attempting to put your opposite foot into your pants leg. The good news is we made it and had a great time. The bad news is I am still picking gravel out of my socks. But when I told this story to John, he immediately saw it taking place in a car, which, I must admit, is a hell of a lot funnier visually. And you wind up avoiding rocks in your socks.

That is it for this week, we will see you next week with the last comic in this series plus we’re starting a brand new three-parter about computer help lines. Trust us, they aren’t the least bit helpful.

Andy and John

Perspective 09/09/22

If you’re old enough to be reading The New 60, you’re probably old enough to have grandchildren. And if you’re old enough to have grandchildren you know that you’ve just been knocked back a rung or two in the family pecking order. Speaking from experience, my wife and I rented a beach house this summer and invited our daughter, her husband and their child, who doubles as our first grandchild. Now admittedly she is cute as a button, likely the cutest baby ever (okay that’s just grandpa getting carried away…a little) but enough is enough. One day my wife was feverishly working, door to our bedroom closed as she conducted a zoom meeting on her computer. I needed to desperately ask her a question and couldn't wait for her meeting to end in order to ask the question. She had at least another hour to go. So I gingerly opened the door and entered the room. She looked over her shoulder, saw it was me and waved me away, as if to say “Get out of here, can’t you see I’m in the middle of an important meeting?” I retreated. Now to be fair, she is the only one of us with a full-time job since I unceremoniously “retired” from advertising at the end of 2016, and her work is very important. At any rate, not five minutes later our granddaughter came crawling down the hallway, and I, feeling rejected (and being a wiseass) , wanted to get my wife back. So I said to the baby, “Want to see grandma? C’mon, she’s right in here. So baby Charlotte crawls right up to the door, and slaps at it, making a loud sound repeatedly. My wife comes to the door ready to hand me my head, when she looks down, sees who’s making the racket, and in her sweetest, highest voice, says Hiiiiiiiii sweetheart, want Grandma to pick you up?” And of course she does, brings Charlotte to the computer, introduces her to the zoom meeting, and everybody is oohing and ahhing and speaking in their own high voices for the next five minutes, before she hands Charlotte back to her mom, shuts the door and resumes the meeting. Now couldn't she have done the same with me? Granted she couldn't have lifted me up, but at least an “Excuse me guys, I just have to speak to my husband for a second, oh wait, want to meet him?” I mean I am 69, which is not nearly as cute as our 16- month-old, but I am temporarily disabled with a broken ankle suffered while riding a bicycle. So give me a little break, but wait, I’d rather not have any more breaks. Okay, I guess it’s pretty tough to score sympathy points when competing with a baby. She wins. As does my wife and her accurate set of priorities. But what I had to say was important. Something crucial like, “Could you pick up some tonic water at the grocery store?” In truth it was so unimportant that I can’t even remember what it was. So maybe it wasn't that important, but it did inspire our first comic.

Next up was Pickleball. John is a tennis player and has also tried his hand at Pickleball. It is being billed as a great sport for seniors, right up there with walking and frisbee golf. It requires good hand-eye coordination and not much running since most people play doubles and the court is about a third the size of a tennis court. But what it does require is a lot of quick movements including lunging. Back to my broken ankle. I was reading an article about the emerging popularity of Pickleball, when they quoted Dr. Neil Roth, an orthopedic surgeon, extensively. Dr. Roth said it was a great game for seniors for many reasons but cautioned that he had repaired a lot of broken limbs as a result of Pickleball. That stopped me because that is the same Dr. Roth who just performed surgery on my ankle. When John and I discussed how we were going to approach Pickleball, I suggested doing a comic about a broken limb, but he went right to the fact that part of the court is called the kitchen and we both knew who has trouble in the kitchen. Loveable old Marv, that’s who.

So that’s it for this week. Enjoy your weekend, Can you believe it’s already football season? See you next week with two new ones,

Andy and John

Lazy Days of Summer 09/02/22

Well Monday is it. Labor Day, end of summer, back to work (for our younger readers who still work), and even more horrifying, back to the office and back to commuting. In our Labor Day comic, Al and Marv ponder all this and, as a smile forms on their lips, realize they no longer have to put up with any of it. I was reminded of a time 6 years ago, November, when my time as an ad guy came screeching to a halt (not my decision). It was the first free, non-vacation weekend I had in 40 years. I was taking a walk with my wife on this beautiful natural trail through the woods called the Old Croton Aqueduct. Yep, that’s right, it used to be an aqueduct carrying water from Croton-Harmon in Westchester all the way down to NY City. And then man discovered pipes, and so no more aqueduct. All that was left was this beautiful, wooded trail that stretches for 26 miles, about the length of a marathon. But I digress (is it really digressing when it’s something you do all the time?) Anyway, it was a Saturday afternoon and I realized I had forgotten to go grocery shopping. Saturday afternoon was my time to go shopping, because I commuted and worked Monday through Friday. I said to my wife, “Damn, we’ve got to cut this walk short. I forgot to go to Whole Foods (yeah, call me a yuppie but that’s where I go). She turned to look at me and said, “Why don’t you just go Monday?” It took a second for this new reality to sink in, and as it did, I felt my shoulders drop as I relaxed, and realized this was going to be my new reality. Free time, bike rides on Tuesdays, golf on Wednesdays, movies on a Monday when everyone else was working. Woo hoo! We imagined that’s how Al and Marv might feel as they pondered their own futures.

Our next comic was about grandparenting. How can you get the most joy from the least work? If you’re not yet a grandparent, believe us, there’s a lot of work. And a lot of joy. If you can figure out how to cut down on the work and up the joy, you’ve got yourself a winning combo. And bingo, we had our comic. Al just attached an inner tube to a rope tied to a remote-controlled boat, and the kid was being towed all over the pool without Al having to once get off his lazy butt. We all have shortcuts we use from time to time. Some, like putting the kids in front of Sesame Street while you get ready for work, are considered helpful. While others, like putting the kids in front of cartoon shows while you get ready for work, are considered lazy.

So how would you consider Al’s shortcut of watching his granddaughter in the swimming pool. Ingenious? Or lazy? Or a bit of both? Obviously Joanne, Al’s wife, opted for lazy.

Enjoy the last weekend of your lazy Summer as we retired folks transition to our lazy Fall. See you next week with two new ones. See, we’re not that lazy. Or at least John isn’t.

Andy and John

Longevity 8/19/22

It’s all about perspective. I remember my wife and I selling our house and moving into our apartment at the tail end of 2014. We moved into a townhouse/apartment complex that doesn’t refer to itself as a 55+ community, it just is a 55+ community. You know the signs. No more mowing lawns, no more hauling your trash and recycling to the top of the driveway, no more shoveling snow off your front steps, no more front steps. Everything with multiple stories (like a townhouse) has an internal elevator. Just don’t call it “adult living” or anything remotely close to that, because that implies one step from assisted living, which is one step from the nursing home, which is one step from…ahh forget it. Anyhow, shortly after moving into our “not 55+ complex” we went to a housewarming party for all the residents (it was brand new at the time) in the “clubhouse.” We arrived fashionably late so as not to seem too eager and Iupon taking a step inside, gasped and whispered to one another, “these people are f’ing old.” Only we didn’t say “f’ing.” The point was, what did we look like to them? F’ing old, just like everyone else. And, that friends, is what they call perspective. Look at a lot of the acts still filling arenas and concert halls, Elton John, Steely Dan, Billy Joel, The Stones and, of course, The Who. They’re not old, right? They’re cool (or at least they were in the ‘70’s). John seized upon the Who’s line from “My Generation,” “Hope I die before I get old,” and the rest just fell into place.

Our other idea involved the continuing Covid crisis. As you are likely aware, the coronavirus is kinda like Arnold Schwarzenegger in the Terminator, “I’ll be back!” Or to borrow a phrase from “Jaws,” “Just when you thought it was safe to go back…” I can hear you all thinking, “enough with the movie references” (notice that in my imagination everybody speaks like a New York Jewish person). So let’s move on. If you are anything like John or me (who are not very much alike) you have likely let your Corona guard down. How many of you still put a mask on when you enter a grocery store? How many of you pull your mask back up after you finish your popcorn and soda at the movies? How many of you still go to the movies? Really? Not even for Top Gun Maverick??? So many people we know have caught the virus for the first (or even second ) time. But relax, the government came to the rescue and offered every family a bunch of free Covid tests. So what would you do if you had an excess number of tests? You might use them for every reason imaginable. And for things you didn’t even imagine (after all, that's why you have us). So we hope you have no more contact with the virus and if you don’t, then we’ll stop doing virus-related comics. Except for next week, when we unveil Part 2 of our two-part Coronavirus comic mini-series. Until then stay well and stay safe and enjoy the end of the summer. See you next week with two new ones.

Andy and John

Food, Glorious Food

These days, at our age, it’s all about weddings and funerals. The weddings of our friends’ children and the funerals of our friends’ parents, our own parents or, heaven forbid, our friends. Recently John attended a funeral while I went to a wedding. And you end up hearing a lot of stories that you knew about, but a bunch of stories that you didn’t. John suggested this as a topic for a comic. For instance, I learned of the random arrest of a kid who was buddies with one of my kids (what did he get into and was my own kid involved????), acts of surprising kindness and charity, and in the case of a funeral, you can also be surprised in ways both good and bad. John said he learned some surprisingly good things at the funeral of a friend’s parent—that the parent had fought in a couple of big battles in WW II. Who knew? Not John. At any rate we decided to play this out in a funeral parlor, after debating doing it in the deli where Sal actually worked. It would have looked a lot like Katz’s because we’re both native New Yorkers and Katz’s is the last of the old-time delis still standing. Some of the old faithfuls remain, but in vastly different locations. For instance, the famed 2nd Ave Deli, spelled with English letters that resemble Hebrew letters (famously designed by my former art director partner, Mark Shap-may he rest in peace) is now no longer located on 2nd Avenue. Go figure. But back to the comic, it’s fun to hear about people you thought you knew well. The positive stuff, but also the negative stuff that makes you raise your eyebrows silently (even if we made it all up).

Now our next comic also has to do with food and this time it’s something John experienced and I read about. Molecular gastronomy. Food is all about experimentation. And as the world becomes flatter, we frequently mix different cuisines to produce new flavor combos. I once went to a sushi restaurant in Madrid where one of the courses was a mini cheeseburger, cut like a piece of sushi, atop a small bed of rice. Pretty damn good if I say so myself. But these wildly innovative chefs are constantly trying to experiment and the pressure must be enormous. For instance, John and his wife once visited WD-50, which sounds like a motor oil but stands for the chef, Wylie Dufresne. I’m sure we all remember past cooking techniques, like “tall food” where your plate was stacked high, one ingredient atop the other. Trouble with tall food is that once you cut into it, it all fell down on the plate and it wasn’t so tall anymore. Well, Wylie ushered in a technique called molecular gastronomy. I mean, who wouldn’t want liquid nitrogen sprayed on their chicken paillard? What is a dish without foam and fog? According to John, everything they ordered looked nothing like it was supposed to but tasted exactly like you thought it would. And because of its tiny size, it was packed full of flavor. The only thing that wasn’t miniaturized was the check, and there came our punchline. Sadly (or happily if you’re me) this fad faded as less accomplished chefs tried their hands at it. As Alex Stupak, Dufresne’s pastry chef put it, “It’s like pyrotechnics at a Kiss concert. Take that away (the smoke and fog), take your face paint away and you suck.”

That’s all she (or he) wrote this week. Next week the surgically repaired half of The New 60 (the Andy half) will try next week’s blog but who knows what kind of drugs I’ll be on? One thing’s for certain, like molecular gastronomy, it’ll be an adventure.

Andy and John

Falling From Grace 7/29/22

For those of you who like shorter blogs, this is your week. One half of the New 60 team got hit by a car while on his bicycle this week. That constitutes one fall from grace (as well as a broken ankle.) Then we did a comic about a terrifying amusement park ride we called Free Fall, where you take a lift and step into what looks like an elevator 20 stories up in the air. The elevator then does a free fall until the hydraulics kick in and slow you down seemingly 10 feet from total destruction. I wouldn’t go on that for the life of me, but I guess it tops being hit by a car. And the final fall comes when the beloved waitress, Dottie, reveals today’s wordle. (Don’t worry readers, it isn’t really TODAY’S Wordle.)

But back to the amusement park. The genesis for this came from a visit to Great Adventure Amusement Park in New Jersey. Two dads took their two kids each. One had two boys, and I had a boy and a girl. On all the scariest rides, all three boys were raring to go. I was terrified. And my daughter looked a little reticent as well. So I did the brave thing and hid behind her. “Are you sure you want to go down this thing?” I’d ask. And she would decline and I’d tell my buddy, the other dad, why don’t you go with the boys and I’ll stay with my daughter. It all worked out in the end, though truth be told, if I had asked my daughter in a bright voice, “Wanna do down this thing with me???” she likely would have given it a try. So bad parenting yes, but give me a break, or rather don’t, my ankle is broken enough.

See you next week with two new ones and a walking boot.

Andy and John.

Stevie and James 07/22/22

So the SOS (Saga Of Stevie) finally comes to an end. Yes, Sid has a significant other named Stevie. And no, Stevie does not turn out to be a boy. And yes, Sid’s Uncle Tim, who is gay, was wrong in thinking Stevie might be a man and Sid might be gay. In talking to some readers about the comic, a couple of people (one who is in her 40’s, for crying out loud) didn’t understand the term gay-dar. As a public service, allow us to explain. Gay-dar is a portmanteau, (a mash-up of gay and radar). It refers to the ability to tell if another person is gay or not. Tim thought it was certainly possible Sid was gay, and when it turned out Sid was straight, Al took a jab at Uncle Tim’s gay-dar. Capiche? Given that most of our readership tends to be on the other side of 50, we wondered how they might react to wondering about the sexuality of their grown children. I know of a dad whose teenage son, in an all-boys boarding school, wondered if he was gay. The dad gave (in my opinion) a beautiful response, saying something to the effect of “It wouldn’t matter to me either way. I would love you just the same if you were gay or straight and you and someone you love and who loves you back will always be welcome here with open arms. The only thing we care about is your happiness.” The kid said thanks, but here’s the kicker. Years later when he knew he was straight, he got angry with his dad and said, “Why didn’t you tell me I was straight in the first place!” So even when you do the right thing, it turns out wrong. That’s part and parcel of being a parent. Let’s hope Sid and Stevie live happily ever after. As an interesting aside, John and I were debating what this woman’s name should be. We went through all the names that could belong to both men and women, and after suggesting the obvious ones like Sam, Pat and Alex, I remembered my own son once dated a girl named Stevi (no “e” at the end) and that sealed the deal.

Our second strip of the week (first on your scroll) featured a concert that John attended with his wife at Tanglewood. For those of you who have never been there or heard of it (think Ravinia, for our midwestern readers) it’s an outdoor concert venue featuring classical music with a few classic folk singers sprinkled in from time to time. In John’s case, he and his wife Linda attended a James Taylor concert early this summer. These things tend to be massive gatherings of older people (I think you get a free pass if you can prove you attended Woodstock) carrying coolers, backpacks, ice bags, wine, cheese and maybe a marijuana vape pen (or two). The tendency most of us have is to look around and think, look at all these old people, before realizing, wait, what do we look like to them? This is also true of the apartment building I moved into 8 years ago with my wife. It isn’t billed as a 55+ community, but clearly it is one. When they had an open house, I whispered to my wife, “Look how old these people are,” before realizing what we looked like to them (impossibly young and beautiful). But back to the comic, John and I talked about what would be the most distinguishing feature of a person attending a (pick one) James Taylor, Steely Dan, Allman Brothers, Michael McDonald concert and we landed upon the bald guy with a ponytail. Yeah, we get it, you used to be cool as hell, but now, you’re 65. Truth be told, I considered the look myself but then decided to go the route of a shaved head and two-day growth of beard. I made the mistake of doing this one summer when we sent our kids off to sleep-away camp. When it came time for Visiting Day, they took one look at me … and burst into tears. Who was this strange man? And what happened to dad? I relented and went back to my Larry David look, clean shaven with messy hair on the sides. And I’ll let you in on a secret. It’s much easier to shave everyday than to maintain the two-day growth look. Or you can go John’s way and do the full-beard, mountain-man look. I’d consider that myself, except I’m way too sloppy of an eater as it is, and the visual of me chowing down a pepperoni pizza with a thick beard is not a pretty image.

So that’s it for this week and we will see you next week with two new ones, hot off the press.

Andy and John.

Taking the Plunge 7/7/22

First of all, I’d like to wish Joanie, my beautiful bride of 38 years, a very happy anniversary. I’d like to thank her for sticking with me for so long. It takes a lot of patience on her part, trust me. I love you and thanks for hanging in there. As Paul Simon once sang, we’re still crazy after all these years. And now, back to the comics. With beach season here, we take a look at the relatively new phenomenon of manscaping. At least it’s relatively new to us. John noticed different levels of hair removal amongst different generations and suggested we do a comic on it. Here are a couple of my partcular hair removal incidences. On a family trip to Mexico last year, my aforementioned wife noticed our niece’s husband, age 43, had a well-groomed body. No visible chest hair or back hair or, heaven forbid, shoulder hair. She was asking because her husband (that’d be me), has hair everywhere I don’t want it, and nowhere that I do want it. To put a fine point on it, no hair on the top of my head, but lots of hair on my chest, back and, yes, shoulders. So she asks our niece’s husband how he achieved that look, and he shows her the razor he uses on his chest, coupled with a long folding contraption that enables him to shave his back while in the shower. Naturally, I ordered the same stuff online and started to use it in the shower. There were three distinct problems. One is that it added significant time to the length of my shower. The second point is I missed a spot. Or two. Or three. Okay, I missed a lot of damn spots. And the third was that the stupid batteries wore down in the back shaver and then I said, “screw it” in much more colorful language. Oh yeah, did I mention a fourth problem. You know what happens when you shave your chest hair with a razor? It grows back like a beard, in sharp, scratchy bits. So when you put on a tee-shirt, the shirt sticks to the front of your body and you constantly find yourself pulling it forward to unstick it from your beautifully shaved chest. In short, Joanie, I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with a hairy bald guy. Unless you knock me out first and take me to a body waxer. But I saw the 40 Year Old Virgin and it looks like that really, really hurts.

Next up is the start of a 4-part series on Al and Joanne’s grown up son, Sid. It seems every time we visit Sid, we come up with a multi-part series and this time is no different. We are about to meet Sid’s new beau. John and I wondered how we would react on the inside and outside if we learned one of our son’s had a significant other. Seeing how Al, Joanne and Uncle Tim react before and after they meet Sid’s love interest is the topic for this new 4-part series. Happy reading and we will be back next week with parts 2 and 3.

Andy and John

Do's and Don'ts While Dining Out

Let’s face it, sports talk and dating and dining usually don’t mix. But don’t worry, because in our case they’re the subject of two completely unrelated comics. Let’s go with the genesis of the first comic (second in your scroll), about refraining from sports talk when you go out with company. A couple of months ago, my wife and I went out to dinner with another couple to a loud restaurant. In an effort to not make it boys sitting across from each other and girls sitting across from each other, I suggested mixing it up so the husband of one couple faced the wife of the other, and vice versa. This resulted in each couple talking across each other and since it was hard to hear in the first place, well… you get the idea. Epic fail, as the millennials would say. Put another way, my idea was a bad idea. At one point I was hogging the conversation, rambling on about politics, when my wife subtly smashed my foot under the table, to which I replied, “Oww, why’d you do that???” On recounting this tale to John, we reworked it so Al and Joanne made a pre-dinner deal that he wasn’t allowed to dominate the conversation with sports talk. Sports, politics, same idea. John came up with the idea of making a pre-dinner deal on the way to the restaurant. When I saw how well that worked out in the comic, I decided that it was a good idea to try at home from now on. I’ll let you know how that works.

Our other comic deals with a phenomenon that you see in fancy places. Older, distinguished-looking men with considerably younger women. I observed such a pair when going out to a special dinner in NYC with friends. Both of us guys were celebrating our birthdays. When we got seated, I noticed a banquette in front of me, with an older guy, replete with a three-piece suit, tie, pocket square, and cufflinks. If I’m calling him old, suffice it to say, he appeared as if his best days were behind him. Suddenly a cute young woman, in her late 20’s at most, slides into the banquette beside him. Hmm, I said, to my companions, check this out. We weren’t sure if he was in a second marriage and this was his daughter, or whether he was married only once and it was his granddaughter. Then she scoots over right next to him, puts her arm around his shoulder and starts whispering into and kissing his ear. And I, master of the obvious, said, that is not his granddaughter. The ending of the comic kinda wrote itself (John hates when I say things like this, because if it wrote itself, you wouldn’t need us). So it didn’t write itself but the situation was so perfect we didn’t have to do too much to alter the reality of it. My wife and my friend’s wife said Something like, “Ewww, gross,” and my friend and I readily agreed just how absolutely gross it was (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). Well, that’s it except for one final coda to the story. When we left the restaurant, the snuggling couple was still there, and my wife took a look at the young lady on our way out. When we got on the sidewalk, she told me, “By the way, she was not his girlfriend. Did you notice the huge rock on her finger? (No, I was looking elsewhere). She’s married to him.”

And with that, have a great weekend and a happy July.

Andy and John

Accepting Our Fate 06/17/22

How many times have you been on the phone waiting and hoping to hear a human voice as the “digital assistant” keeps asking you what the issue is so they can “better direct your call?” You know what’s worse than that? Getting the actual person on the line, finally. Now I realize these people are only supposed to answer in a certain way, that they are held to some sort of script, but still…

The thing that I find most infuriating is the circular argument where absolutely nothing gets resolved. In my case, it went something like this: ME: I received a box from Fresh Direct that I never ordered and I’d like to return it and get a refund. THEM: You can’t return food and I can’t issue you a refund because we already sent you the box. ME: But I never ordered the box. THEM: But we already sent it. ME: Did you hear a word I said? THEM: Is there any thing else I can help you with?

I recounted this story to John and we developed the situation you read in the comic, where the item was delivered a day late. John, being much more polite than I am, came up with the scenario of the bakery apologizing and giving Al the cake for free. I would have had Al smash a slice of cake into the telephone in frustration, venting his anger while destroying his phone, but that’s just me. Oh, and John’s solution led to a funnier ending so that decided that.

Onto our second strip. I’ve often noticed that as life goes on, all our contemporaries have similar milestones at similar times. First was people getting married, followed by having kids, followed by bar mitzvahs and confirmations, followed by kids getting married, followed by kids having kids, followed by funerals for our parents, followed by transitioning from tennis to pickleball and softball leagues to golf and eventually to physical therapy, which is where yours truly ended up in April. And no sooner did I start attending twice-a-week sessions, than I started running into people I know. I ran into one person who I always thought was a pain in the neck even though I was there treating a pain in my neck. Anyway, we thought it would be a fun contrast in our Then and Now series. Hope you guys agree.

See you next week, or maybe sooner if we run into you at physical therapy.

Andy and John