Huffington Post Adds Years

I realized things were changing recently when reading the Huffington Post. Instead of automatically clicking the Gay Voices section like I've always done, I started with the Huff/Post 50 section - you know, the one directed at old people.

This is nothing less than a seismic shift in my interests. I now relate much more to contemplating retirement than millennial celebrities getting drag queen style makeovers. Also, I'm really not interested in the different ways gay men are using dating apps. What's a dating app anyway? Is this that "Grindr" I've heard about?  In my day, you walked up to a guy in a bar and asked him to dance. What ever happened to that?

Reading about why women should date men in their 50s is much more interesting to me than James Franco's constant toying with us about his sexual orientation. Is he or isn't he? I don't care, James! Just take your shirt off and shut up.

Aging is inevitable, and it turns out, I'm kind of enjoying it.

For example, there are opportunities to save money. It hasn't happened very often yet, but occasionally a store clerk or ticket taker asks Clyde and me if we'd like to take advantage of the senior discount. Rather than standing there insulted, I calculate the savings and ask what age qualifies us. I'm usually not quite old enough (I won't speak for Clyde), but I'm looking forward to the day when I can save a dollar on museum admission.

And there is retirement to look forward to. Thanks to a couple of good investments here and there, it looks like I'll be able to do it.

The next decade and a half will probably fly by so some plans need to be made now. Like, if I want the mortgage paid off before I retire, I'd better plan ahead. How many new cars will I buy between now and age 65?

When the time comes and our fuzzy loved ones are no longer with us, should we adopt a new kitten who might tie us down 15-20 years from now when we want to travel? Ok, on that  topic, I have been informed in no uncertain terms, that yes, we will always have cats, no matter what.

In some ways, we're already plenty old. I'm a card carrying member of AARP. And Clyde and I are regular early bird diners. We like to get to Black Eyed Pea about 4:30, before it gets crowded.

Still Recovering from Old Yeller

I don't care for violence on TV or in the movies. Just ask Clyde - it doesn't matter how many Oscars it's won, I refuse to watch if there's any blood or killing.  If, for example, we see a gruesome death while  watching the X Files, something that we do occasionally thanks to Netflix,  I'll close my eyes until it's over. On the medical shows, I'll close my eyes when surgery is portrayed. If the bleeding character is a human adult, I don't like it.

But I absolutely come unglued if a fictional child or animal is threatened or harmed in any way.

I know it's all just make believe.  As you might explain to a child, no one is really hurt in the TV show, it's just actors pretending.

I take them at their word when they say no animals were harmed during production. I know no actual actor of any species or any age is hurt when something pretend happens on the screen.

Yet, I just can't stand to think of even a fictional child or animal getting hurt. I teared up just researching web sites for movies where the dog dies.

I trace my sensitivity back to Old Yeller, a Disney movie from 1957. Featuring a boy and his dog on the frontier of Texas, Yeller is the boy's best friend and protector of the family. As a very young child, I watched enraptured by the whole movie, identifying with the boy (I too had a dog best friend), following the ups and downs of their lives.

Until the part where the boy has to shoot Old Yeller.

I was so shocked and upset that I never really got over it.

In all fairness, Yeller had rabies and in the context of the story, shooting him was the right thing to do. But I never got over it. I wouldn't have cared, in fact I would have cheered, if the overly strict father had been shot instead.

It seems like every Disney movie from that era involved animals that died. One need not look beyond the classic Bambi, to know what I'm talking about. Everyone who's seen it remembers vividly the moment when Bambi's mother is shot by a hunter. It was enough to put me off Disney, which severely limited the movies I was able to watch as a child.

If I had children, I wouldn't let them watch Old Yeller until they were well into adulthood. Even then, not without warning them.

Marley and Me? Forget it. Never saw it.

The only exception I'll make is The Lion King. Even though Mufasa dies, it's such a great story that I'll overlook it this one time.