Happy Holidays. 11/288/25

Hard to believe but this will mark the end of our 7th year at the New 60. Writing from our World Headquarters, okay it’s only my house, John’s house and zoom, but World Headquarters sounds so much more impressive. At any rate, we give thanks to our loyal readers for continuing to read us every year. And we give our thanks to Al and Marv and Rachel and Joanne for being in their 60’s for perpetuity. At least one of us is in their early 70’s but I’m not telling which one. Here’s a hint, his name isn’t John.

But onto Thanksgiving. It could be a joyous time with your family or it could be a nightmare depending on your family. In my case we have brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, kids, grandkids…the whole works. And it’s joyous. As long as the Dallas Cowboys get their collective butts kicked. Listen, I know that most of the world loves turkey. But I wonder about that because, a) why do we only make it once an year and b) how come it needs to be smothered in gravy and stuffed with some combination of sausage, chestnuts, olives, tomato paste, egg yolks and paprika? Huh? To me the best part is getting together (and having so many people around that nobody notices you’re too lazy to help with the cooking or clean up). My favorite tactic is, “I’ll be right there honey, as soon as this game is over.” Followed by a tactic so old, that nobody falls for it anymore, “There’s only 5 minutes left in the game.”

As for picklelball, I finally got to play it for the first time and I loved it. We played doubles with some friends who have a house right near pickleball courts. My wife, limped around for a week afterwards and filled me with horror stories about pickleball injuries. To prove her point about this violent, dangerous game, her pilates teacher said forget about it. And my physical therapist wrote a book entitiled, “How to Avoid Pickleball injuries.” Geez. It’s not exactly tackle football. And we’re playing on a court that is 1/4 the size of a tennis court. I think it’s great but my only complaint is your partner yelling, “Stay out of the kitchen,” I hear that enough at home. You know who else doesn't like pickleball? Neighbors who live near pickleball courts. Apparently the constant thwack of something that resembles a whiffle ball against a wooden paddle creates a sound with a high-pitched frequency that drives people crazy. Ir’s so offensive that in the case of our pickleball friends, their community required the paddles to have a stretchy, nylon cover that still makes the ball bounce but muffles the sound of the impact. I think the most dangerous aspect of pickelball is having to deal with irate neighbors who hate the sound.

Here’s hoping your Thanksgiving is filled with laughter, love, turkey, gravy, stuffing (hold the truffles please,) a 5k Turkey Trot (after that you can eat anything you want) and maybe even a game of pickleball.

Happy Holidays,

Andy and John