Women, Age, and Money My grandmother was a young woman during the Great Depression. From that era forward, regardless of her circumstances, she counted every penny. At the grocery store, she inspected each green bean to make sure it was worthy before adding it to her cart. When my grandmother was in her nineties and needed to move to a care home, she had to spend down the last of her money to qualify. She
Invisibility As A Superpower Deanna Raybourn’s new novel, Killers of a Certain Age, is everything a crone could hope for in a tale about a trio of sixty-something women assassins. As Raybourn says in our interview below, “I was supposed to be writing women doing unexpected, cool, badass things and working as assassins was the most unexpected, cool, and badass thing I could imagine.” How great is that? Your editor, Danielle Perez, called one day
We Are All Zebras Now “I’d rather not renew your prescription for hormone replacement therapy because it increases the risk of stroke,” said my doctor. Which was ironic, given what happened next. But even during that phone call I was not convinced. “From the literature, it looks like overall mortality is the same with or without HRT, and quality of life is higher with HRT.” “You might be more likely to break a bone without
Women of a Certain Superpower My journey as a writer started fifteen years ago and it feels like I’ve taken a long walk on a rough road, wearing the wrong kind of shoes. In print media, I have written a deeply flawed first novel, and a self-published novella. A producer friend of mine read the novella and suggested it would be good as a film. At his urging, I converted the novella to a screenplay,
The Legs are The Last to Go One day last summer I was walking into the grocery store in shorts when a young man ahead of me looked over his shoulder and gave me the once-over. He started at my feet and looked interested, then quizzical, then somewhat abashed as his gaze travelled from conventionally attractive legs to round middle to my almost-seventy-year-old face. At that point he turned and scurried through the door. I
Inspiring the Boomers Podcast It was March 19, 2020, and I was driving home after spending the spring break vacation with my son and his family in Panama City Beach. It was a strange vacation. We were all aware of the rapid spread of the Corona virus, yet there was so little information. My son scolded me every time I touched my face. We didn’t know if we should mask to go pick up groceries
