Tag Archives: seniors

Being Old is No Place for Sissies! Part 2

Being Old is No Place for Sissies! Part 2

As I sit on a cemetery of rolled socks on my bed I wonder why I get up each morning. At almost 70 my legs and my knees are bad from various falls and I am a klutz. Each morning I try to put a pair of socks on and I fail. Either the knees won’t bend or somehow a sock gets pulled on and it either feels weird like the top of the sock is on my heel and I just give up. At the end of the week the rolled socks are put back in the drawer until I have to go outside which is rare these days.

Today was the day to get groceries and it is -16 C outside and socks are a must. I yell, I cry, one knee will not bend but I can’t give up. Not today. A close friend died a few weeks ago and I must take something to the family. I heard they were receiving a lot of food so I decided beverages were the way to go. Going anywhere I need my husband Steve to help me as the great white outdoors has become a challenge to me. I have no idea what happens when I venture outside the house. Suddenly the smooth and straight home floors turn into a Vesuvius Volcano erupting and each bump in the outside world is conducive to tripping over. One way to find out that you’re old is to fall down: if they laugh at you –you are still young. If they start to panic like they do when I trip and fall you’re in the old age bracket. I usually lay there and think: ‘oh great, is this what we are doing now?’

Last week I had already bought the beverages for the family and left them in the back seat. Anyone clever would know that even in a garage those cans are going to freeze. Each day I listened to the weather and never once did I think about canned drinks sitting on the back seat. Until– Thursday when my husband phoned me from work to say there had been an explosion in the back seat. He said it looked like glass shards everywhere, when in reality the cans had exploded and it was ice.

Socks on, ready for the world, I suddenly sneeze and I will not go into details, but pants must now be changed. How did I ever get here?  I can laugh, cough, sneeze and pee at the same time. In my mind I consider myself the closest to Moira Rose on Schitt’s Creek you will ever see. Wigs hanging in the hat room, jewellery to rival any Bollywood wedding, but I have never once seen Moira go through this. Maybe I rival Phyllis Diller more than Moira and no one has the heart to tell me. I am still at that delusional age where I think everyone that I went to High School with looks older than me. Just like the COVID grey hair coming through the once red hair are now called my wisdom highlights.

My husband asked me if my socks are okay because he has heard all about my predicament in stereo for a long time. He gently asks if he can fix them and I just shake my head and say no. I softly say to him, ‘This my train wreck and this isn’t your station!’

People look at me and are flabbergasted I will be 70 this July. Unfortunately when they hear me stand up and hear the sound effects I make they catch on pretty quickly. I guess I just thought getting old would take a little longer. How fast it happened is still a bit of a surprise. Now the night time leg cramps come and you think to yourself: ‘This is it, this is how it ends!’

I remember the nights of dancing all night– and tap dancing at various Rocky Horror Picture Shows. Those days may be gone, but it’s how you take it. My mind is still functioning and so is my fashion wardrobe. I am still young at heart, but slightly older in some places. I am never going to change and one day I want to be that little old lady that puts vodka in the IV bags at the retirement home. So yes I have my complaints, but I would rather make people laugh about them, because we are all in this together. So next time you are slow at moving and things fall apart, remember that ageing gracefully is an art– but ageing disgracefully is a total blast!

Related reading

Being Old is No Place for Sissies

These Shoes Weren’t Made for Walking

These Shoes Weren’t Made for Walking

Thirty five years ago I delivered a ten pound male child. There isn’t a month that doesn’t go by that I don’t remind him, like Beverley Goldberg, that I was in labour for 28 and one half hours. What did I get from that day in August of 1985 besides a beautiful healthy baby boy? Well, the next day the top of my left foot became very puffy and has remained that way for 35 years. The nurse said not to worry at the time because it was only postpartum fluid swelling– and it would go away. Well that fluid, brought its home furnishings and plants and has squatted on top of my foot since that day in 1985.

Anytime I buy shoes the right foot takes a size 9, and the other foot needs the shoebox the pair came in. I wore trendy heels every day of my life until that day, and now when I find shoes that fit I buy what they have in my size. Don’t even talk to me about boots.

Last year I walked into Walmart on a quest for comfy shoes. Instead, I purchased two pairs of high heel shoes that cost only $5.00 each. I was thrilled when I tried them on and vowed to wear them everyday for one hour until I got used to them.The next day I donned the leopard 4 inch heels trimmed in red and walked from the car to the row of grocery carts. By aisle two I was hanging over the cart to support myself and my feet were now in excruciating pain.

A farmer in overalls was also checking out my shoes and followed me to aisle four pretending to buy peaches. He returned a few times still eyeing the shoes, and I don’t think I ever realized the power of heels in a rural area. I paid for the groceries and literally crawled back to the car in pain. As soon as I sat in the car I ripped them off, and the feeling of relief was much like being constipated and then having it all disappear.

I gave away my last pair of leopard stilettos to a friend of mine after keeping them in my closet for five years. They had thin gold heels, and the suede was soft as silk, and they had only been worn once for about 8 minutes. Placing them on my feet as I sat on the couch at a monthly church lady meeting; I gingerly walked over for tea with a performance worthy of an Academy Award. The ladies marveled at how I had walked in them all day and I never acknowledged anything different. What a shoe Oscar moment that was, and really it wasn’t the place to fib at a church meeting.

Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz proved shoes on a gal’s feet can change your life, and Cinderella made a point that just one shoe can procure you a Prince Charming. So, now I have come up with some excuses when my shoes really don’t match my eccentric clothes. 

I tell folks I am afraid of heights so I wear lower heels. Well, let’s just say I am just one step closer to Velcro shoes. Cowboys die with their boots on and I am just going to die comfortably with my flats. Life is always full of interruptions and complications isn’t it?:)

Did You Know About the Golden Girls Act? BILL 69– More Homes, More Choice: Ontario’s Housing Supply Action Plan

Did You Know About the Golden Girls Act? BILL 69– More Homes, More Choice: Ontario’s Housing Supply Action Plan







The Golden Girls Act is now law intended to help address Ontario’s housing crisis.  According to housing minister Steve Clark “Solving Ontario’s housing crisis is going to take new and innovative ideas.”

Realtors and banks love the law.  Homes can now be more easily sold and mortgaged to unrelated parties.  Condo communities are not likely to be so excited.


At my last meeting at a Mississippi Mills Senior Advocacy  meeting the Golden Girls Act came up.



What it is all about..

Bill 69 is inspired by four Port Perry seniors who, in 2016, wanted to move into a house together. After realizing that a retirement home, condo or apartment was not the ideal living arrangement, these four seniors decided to cohabit together, designed a home that would meet their collective needs.

However, their dreams did not become a reality. The Township of Scugog decided to prevent this type of home sharing by seniors. If Bill 69 is successful, amendments to the Planning Act would pave the way to encouraging and permitting home sharing by unrelated seniors.  Something we absolutely need to see more of. If there is little money, then it is imperative that these creative cohousing ideas need to come to life.



From Lindsey Park’s page

THEIR STORY – In 2016, four senior, single women moved in to a recently renovated home in downtown Port Perry. However, this was no ordinary renovated house, and these were not typical seniors. The Golden Girls Effect, so labeled by the Toronto Star, resulted in a renovated heritage house that meets the anticipated needs of these seniors as they age, and they are not even related.

They did this because as they were planning for their golden years, the housing options available were not attractive to them. Watching loved ones try to navigate the world of seniors’ housing, they realized that living in a retirement home, condo or apartment would not be for them. Instead, they took a proactive approach, seeing that there were major economic and social benefits of pooling their resources and designing a home that would meet their needs as they aged. This included building two caregiver suites in their basement, adding an elevator to service the three-story home, and even consulting experts on everything from door handles to roll-in showers, to make the house accessible for aging seniors. All this was designed to help serve them as they age.

They also knew they would have to lay some ground rules down if they were to peacefully live under one roof. With the help of a lawyer, they drafted a home sharing agreement, determining protocol and peaceful resolution mechanisms when disagreements inevitably occurred. The agreement also helps to give answers to some legal questions, including the logistics in the case of one member’s death or moving out.

The benefits were felt immediately. Living alone, they needed four of everything. Now, they make-do with sharing one item between the four of them, finding efficiencies in all parts of their lives. They eat dinner together, they check in on each other, and they enjoy living together.

Upon meeting the Golden Girls, Durham Member of Provincial Parliament, Lindsey Park, was inspired to do what she could to promote this project and ensure that other seniors did not face similar hurdles at the municipal level. In February 2019, MPP Park introduced a Private Member’s Bill in the Legislative Assembly of Ontario, titled The Golden Girls Act, 2019. The Bill was debated in the Legislature and passed Second Reading with all-party support.

The goal of this legislation is to provide clarity to local municipalities that they cannot use their local by-law-making powers to try to stop seniors from living together. Further, the aim is to start a conversation about co-housing for seniors, with a hope that future Golden women and men do not face the same obstacles.

With a supply shortage of housing options that are affordable, long wait lists for long-term care, and an aging population, innovative approaches to housing for seniors are needed. Repurposing existing housing infrastructure and promoting the sharing-economy will create more options for more seniors.

In May 2019, the Ontario Government committed taking action on the issues raised by The Golden Girls Act, 2019 as part of its More Homes, More Choice: Ontario’s Housing Supply Action Plan. This plan will also help to tackle the issue of home-sharing among seniors raised in The Golden Girls Act, 2019.

On December 11, 2019 the Ministry of Municipal Affairs and Housing released the Co-owning a Home guide – an innovative consumer guide, featuring on its cover the Golden Girls of Port Perry.  MPP Park led consultations with the Ministry that resulted in this guide.  It contains practical information about co-ownership to help Ontarians make informed decisions when they are thinking about co-owning a home.

MPP Park hopes the conversation about different housing models, like co-ownership, will continue in order to increase housing options that are affordable for Ontarians of all ages and income levels.



Bill 69 Original (PDF)


Currently the Planning Act provides that the authority to pass by-laws under certain sections of the Act does not include the authority to pass a by-law that has the effect of distinguishing between persons who are related and persons who are unrelated in respect of the occupancy or use of a building or structure or part thereof, including the occupancy or use as a single housekeeping unit. The Bill amends the Act to provide that the rule applies, for greater certainty, in respect of unrelated seniors.

Bill 69 2019

An Act to amend the Planning Act


All levels of government should recognize that Ontario has an aging population and should encourage innovative and affordable housing solutions for seniors. Local municipalities should not deter seniors from choosing affordable housing options and should recognize that unrelated seniors living together can reap significant health, economic and social benefits. It is desireable to provide clarity to municipalities that the Planning Act should be interpreted in a way that encourages and permits home sharing by unrelated seniors as a housing solution.

Therefore, Her Majesty, by and with the advice and consent of the Legislative Assembly of the Province of Ontario, enacts as follows:CLICK HERE

Predictions? You Had Better Save like a Squirrel for a Rainy Day.

Predictions? You Had Better Save like a Squirrel for a Rainy Day.




When I was 12 I decided to volunteer at a nursing home in Cowansville, Quebec where I grew up. I had a vague clue as to why older folks were in a senior home, but had no idea how many tears I would have to hold back to get through some of those Saturday afternoons. As the weeks passed I realized these seniors appreciated me spending time there. This was the 60s, and even though the retirement home had been a grand building in which the elite of the town had once passed through, sadness reigned supreme throughout the halls.


I could ignore some of the foul odours, and repeated phrases, but aging skin and yellowed toenails made me wonder if this was the final fate of all of us. Surely something better had to be available. But there wasn’t, and no matter how many questions I asked my Grandmother, the response was the same:


“That’s the way it has to be my birdie, and that’s that.”


So for three years I went every Saturday– I called out BINGO numbers and played dominoes with my favourite senior Mr. Jones. We would play dominoes over and over and I just couldn’t figure out why he loved the game so much. Years later I realized it might have not been the game, but more the friendship that I gave him. I listened in earnest to all his stories as a young lad in Britain and wondered why his family never visited.


A few months after I left volunteering at the senior home and on to pursue my life in Montreal Mr. Jones committed suicide in the Anglican church basement stairwell. He had died alone, similar to how he had been living for the past years. Mr. Jones had left me a brief note and thanked me for caring. Caring? What was the matter with people? Why was he, as a valued member of this planet not respected similar to other seniors that lived there?

Years have gone by and we now face a shortage for decent senior placement. Developers shun ‘social benefited housing’ because it is not profitable, and getting into senior establishments is like winning the lottery. If there was money to be made in creating retirement homes, developer’s would be building more of them. My guess is– that it is a far better return on investment to create 100 condo units than 100 rooms in a retirement home. The government wants the elderly to stay home, similar to palliative care patients, but in-house assistance is hard to get. I personally know what one goes through when someone is terminally ill or needs a senior home and in plain English–”the system sucks!”

As the number of seniors continues to grow, none of Canada is prepared for the housing and home care needs of an aging population. People say our politicians are full of talking the talk but always find excuses for taking immediate action. That is not true, because as a town councillor I thought it was going to be easy.  This was going to be a no brainer I told myself– but let me tell you your hands are tied, and like everyone else I feel helpless.

The need is not only for independent senior living but for assisted living and palliative care. A great percentage of seniors cannot live independently, and seniors needing memory care is on the rise. Costs for housing someone with dementia is something that you would not expect, plus all the added extras.

My father always used to laugh and say:

“Be nice to your children because they will end up picking your nursing home.”

In most of Ontario these days, you end up getting placed in the first nursing home to have a bed open up no matter what you or your family might want.

As a Boomer I saw the lack of classroom space and governments have chosen to ignore demographic reality. The blame for this rests mainly with the provinces as they have jurisdiction over housing generally, with zoning, home care, seniors residences and nursing homes falling exclusively under their jurisdiction. No foresight.
So, personally I welcome all sorts of building for seniors: profit, non profit as the need is great and we as Baby Boomers are going to put a great strain on the system. Baby Boomers will cause a market glut when they all try to downsize at the same time. Generation X, Y and Millennials have been screwed with wage stagnation and cannot afford the exorbitant prices that the Baby Boomer’s expect their homes to be worth, and for many, is their sole asset.  

How did Canadians grow old so suddenly you ask? Who even saw this coming? In reality they have been warned each time Stats Canada has produced demographic projections, which it has done after each census for the past 40 years. Again, we as Boomers, knew this was coming a long time ago and anyone who could do basic arithmetic saw this. Honestly, we should be ahead of this, not “far behind”. Seniors deserve better– or don’t they? 


Come and visit the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page– what’s there? Cool old photos–and lots of things interesting to read. Also check out The Tales of Carleton Place and The Tales of Almonte


Carleton Place Blind Woman Saved Four Seniors

I Once Knew You When ………..

Documenting Don Lea .. “The Old Pucker”

Mary Louise Deller Knight — Evelyn Beban Lewis–The Townships Sun

Remembering Doris Blackburn




May 27 at 8:39 AM

Yesterday I began an email campaign about the dilemma of seniors and what I have been going through with a loved one. Most of the people I sent it too are well aware of the situations out there and know how desperate we are for solutions.

The elderly have the inherent right to life, dignity, and the integrity of their persons.

Saturday I saw seniors that could not comprehend and had no choice being talked to in an unkind manner. We have many seniors at risk and there are no easy solutions now. I also had no idea how many homeless seniors we have until Saturday.

Yes, after hours of going back and forth in Ottawa I was treated kindly in Carleton Place. If I had to bring out the big guns to keep someone safe I would have. My husband, who moved here from the United States three years ago had never been on the second floor of the Carleton Place hospital and was shocked to see the lack of space. He wondered how all these new residents that would be joining our community as new residents would fare with a hospital that is lacking in space and many other things. But, the Carleton Place hospital is not the only place that needs attention now, and more hands and voices on the ground are needed rather than decisions being made from a desk.

How many years can we talk about adding senior housing and realize there is not much we can do about it with developers who view senior housing as non profitable– or no money available from County and Province. When do we stop and stamp our feet and say enough is enough? Draconian rules need to be changed– money needs to be found for seniors, as some day you might be in this position. If you know someone that should read this please pass it on.

I was emotional and drained when I wrote the first email, but today is another day, and every time I write something I will add someone else to the email list. Am I confident things might change? After being elected as councillor I sadly know the realities of what is going on now, but the citizens of Carleton Place elected me and the rest of council as a voice and that I am. I will never change, no matter what.

You can always choose not read these pieces I write, and ignore them, but keep passing on the word things need to be changed now. Not in another 4 years, not in another 8 years– NOW we must begin. Do I know where to start? Absolutely not– but maybe someone somewhere has an idea- and I will take it hands down to begin for change.


For the past few years my eyes have been opened to seniors rights as a caregiver. You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream and I have a dream. But issues can be solved only at a county and provincial level —and I never knew that. Today, my eyes were opened even more about senior health care and there is nothing I can do. Our society must make it right and possible for old people not to be deserted for the test of a civilization is the way that it cares for its helpless members. I am outraged and I can’t do a thing about it. What have we come too? Mountains cannot be surmounted except by winding paths– it’s time we started straightening out those paths.


Banking the Memories of Aretha Franklin

Banking the Memories of Aretha Franklin




When you reach a certain age like myself and someone famous dies it affects you. Especially if that someone played predominantly from the musical soundtracks of your life like Aretha Franklin. At 67 there is still not a day that goes by that I don’t play her music. I always knew this day would come, but when she died on August 16th I felt that a piece of me had faded away and suddenly felt really old.


According to scientific report, our musical idols die young. Many of them die from drug overdoses, drunk-driving accidents and that the average lifespan of  musicians is only 45. So let me get this right– I am going to live longer if I’m not participating in any of the above? Somehow I would like to feel reassured, but I don’t, and I am not banking on many extra years these days.


In 1967 Aretha released the song Respect and life was never the same for me. With ironed hair that I had set on empty orange juice cans and my mini tent dress, I danced to her music on the weekend in the basement of the old bus terminal on Depot Street in Cowansville. Not once did I ever think about getting older and protesting about getting senior discounts only when I supposedly had one foot in the grave at age 60.

In 1968 I became part of the Pepsi Generation and watched American Bandstand on TV in colour dancing to what was called Slo Jams to Aretha singing Natural Woman. Living a few blocks from the Montreal CFCF studios I was a regular audience dancer on the TV show Like Young. When I screamed hysterically when Bobby Darin and Englebert Humperdinck appeared on stage, no one ever told me at age 60 I was going to get a very important letter from my bank.


I had no idea dancing to her music at Snoopy’s on Dorchester Street in 1969 that the very day I turned 60 it was going to be an important milestone for me. I was too busy making cassette mixtapes of Aretha’s songs to even think of gray hair, sore knees and retirement. In 2011 the bank would thank me for being a client for many years. Because I was turning 60 they would give me me a monthly rebate of $4.00 on my monthly fees instead of charging me $13.95 a month. The bank was definitely paying this Natural Woman a little Respect. Or were they? Playing Chain of Fools on my stereo on a daily basis I never thought about the the extra $4.00 savings each month. Would $4.00 buy me a package of Depends down the road?


As the years passed and slowly entering my golden years Aretha’s music was still always part of my life, and so was my bank. The bank seemed to know as I danced around the kitchen in my pajamas to her music last Thursday with uncombed hair that I would need a colonoscopy as part of their cherished older clientele. That’s right, they were Saying a Little Prayer for Me that I would do the right thing when they sent me that letter last week.


Aretha, I  am going to remember every time I danced to your songs on the radio, my transistor radio, reel to reel, 8 tracks, cassettes, CDS, YouTube and now ITunes. Thank you for sharing your gift with the world. The choir upstairs just got a little better. As for the bank knowing my every move all these years? Thanks for always checking up on me, I’m doing fine, but I’m really going to miss Aretha Franklin. But, please send candles next time in your letters as they are costing me more than the cake now. My body called the Freeway of Love is a lot older now– but you knew that A Change was Gonna Come.


Come and visit the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page– what’s there? Cool old photos–and lots of things interesting to read. Also check out The Tales of Carleton Place and The Tales of Almonte


Mary Louise Deller Knight — Evelyn Beban Lewis–The Townships Sun

The Secret World of Menopausal Mary

Hobos, Apple Pie, and the Depression–Tales from 569 South Street

Linda’s Nickel Opinions — Blasts From the Past Part 11

People are Afraid to Work– Jennie Majaury- Darling Township

People are Afraid to Work– Jennie Majaury- Darling Township





Clipped from The Ottawa Journal,  24 Jun 1954, Thu,  Page 20


Clipped from The Ottawa Journal,  14 Feb 1955, Mon,  Page 5


 - Mrs. Jennie Ma jury of Lanark Kow 1 01 ; Has 21...

Clipped from The Ottawa Journal,  27 Jun 1952, Fri,  Page 32


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Kevin Percy– sent this.
Here is the article about Jennie, from the Ottawa Citizen, Saturday July 01, 1950. Found using newspapers dot com. Not the article requested, but offered in case it is of interest.
Donna Mcfarlane round this on ancestry originally posted by a vanessa johnson of jane jennie majoury
John Morrow added
My grandmother, Agnes (Napier) Morrow 1891-1971 told me two or three years before she died, and the story was repeated to me almost verbatim about 25 years later by her daughter Beatrice 1924-2017, wife of “Granny” Majaury’s great-grandson Kenneth Whyte, that Granny Majaury’s common first name was JANNIE, not Jennie. Jannie Majaury’s brother John Crawford was married to my great-grand aunt Sarah JANE Wark, and my grandmother, along with most of her generation in Darling Township knew her as Aunt Jannie, with the next generation being the first to call her Granny. Jannie was also fudging about her age, competing with a neighbour named Spencer Church, who died in June 1961 at 105 but claiming to be 111; Jannie was actually in her 100th year when she died.
How many spellings of Majaury are there? Take a look…
Clipped from The Ottawa Citizen, 09 Jul 2002, Tue, Page 26

We’ll Never See a Woman Again Like That-Irene Crosbie

Marian MacFarlane — Silver Threads Among the Gold

From the Files of The Canadian — Who is This? Where is This?

Carleton Place Blind Woman Saved Four Seniors

More Memories of Rossie Doyle

So What Happens When You Turn 100 in Carleton Place?

If You’re Young at Heart – Rossie Moore Doyle of Carleton Place Turns 100

Among the Strangers There Was…

Women Who Made a Difference in Carleton Place — Mrs. Lim of the New York Cafe



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She Doesn’t have Bette Davis Eyes


Looking in the mirror this morning I look like Bette Davis on a bad day with a semi swollen face and bags hanging under my irritated eyes. I took a cold drug last night before bedtime which is giving me a drug-induced hangover today.

I decided to write a blog called “I Look Like Shrek” and then chose not to share it with anyone. Do I really want people to have that impression of me? If I really was Bette Davis I would have ‘my people’ helping me get through this awful day. But I am not she, so instead I daydream about how I longed to be a movie star when I was very young.

Most of my friends know that my favourite actress is Bette Davis. There is absolutely no one that can get her point across in three seconds or less like she could. As a child I used to buy Popeye candy cigarettes and flash them back and forth yelling in my mother’s high heels,

“It’s going to be a bumpy ride!”– or something to that effect.

My father would just roll his eyes and say I was living in a “Modern Screen” fantasy world like my mother. Bernice Ethelyne had named me Linda Susan after her two favourite actresses: Linda Darnell and Susan Hayward. From her hospital bed to her wheelchair at home she commanded my father to enrol me in every dance class known to man. Mother Bernice wanted me to become another Joan Crawford as she was her favourite actress and lived, ate and breathed Crawford.

One Tuesday when I came home from school I stopped dead in my tracks eyeing my mother and her canasta club having a Joan Crawford makeover day. Sitting like glamour queens, I am sure each one of them thought they all looked like MGM starlets munching on pineapple squares with bright red lips, short bangs and evil eyebrows. It was the scariest thing you ever saw and I swear I didn’t sleep for days after that gut wrenching experience.
My mother who also tone deaf thought I was born to sing like Deanna Durbin. Every week Reverend Brown would choose one person to perform a solo and my mother called and suggested that I participate.

Sunday came way too fast and barely standing next to the choir I begin to sing.  I hear no bravos in the congregation, but by verse three people are covering their mouths with their handkerchiefs. At the end of my song Dickie Diner in the front pew breaks out into a fit of laughter and ends up on the floor.


I go back to my seat and see Reverend Brown look down at me through his bifocals in bewilderment. Miss Smith, age 69, the spinster church organist, stamps on the organ pedals and rolls into the next hymn at death defying volume. My musical career ended that day but Bernice kept insisting that it was okay because they always had stand-in singers for Joan.


Daydreaming over, I come to the conclusion that I’m going to use up a box of Kleenex every hour and it’s going to be a bumpy ride for the next 24 hours. I just don’t get it. I am so offended when my body decides to be sick. Like I gave you a vegetable last week.. How dare you!! LOLOL


“The best time I ever had with Joan Crawford was when I pushed her down the stairs in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?– Bette Davis

Come and visit the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page– what’s there? Cool old photos–and lots of things interesting to read.

Information where you can buy all Linda Seccaspina’s books-You can also read Linda in Hometown News

Being Old is No Place for Sissies

Pick up your latest copy of Hometown News where you shop and read my articles and natterings.
Last night I began an online course in hopes of improving my writing. I did half the weeks assignments and seriously contemplated if anything would be useful to me. Slowly I began to think about it. There were points that the teacher spoke about that I had never really thought about.
Who was my target audience?
Who was I writing for?
I sat and pondered for awhile and finally realized the bulk of my audience was over the age of 40. I think it kind of shocked me for an instant, and wondered when I became so old.  Each day I look in the mirror and see the same person I was 40 years ago, but no one else sees that Linda anymore. I am now 65 years old and no longer wear a size 4. Well, I never wore a size 4, so that’s beside the point.
If I really was the same reflection in the mirror I greet each day I would spring out of bed each morning eager to take on the day. Since when did my face start resembling a peach? Upset with my peach fuzz status I pluck like a maniac and refuse to call chin hairs “stray eyebrows” as I once did. My natural blonde hair is no longer sultry and is dyed flaming red. Instead of a Dietrich look,  I now sometimes assume a dead on impression of Bette Davis in “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane“.
I can no longer stand people talking in loud volumes, especially on their cell phones. Do I really want to know what your “Baby’s Daddy” is not doing for you? Silently I now scream obscenities at those that bring hockey-bag loads of laundry into my laundry room. I do laundry frequently because I prefer to wear clean underwear every day. Remaining silent, I know that it would be over their heads to offer that information as they choose not to wear any such thing.  I can also vouch that these personal sparing of the briefs has nothing to do with saving the environment as I watch them  pour their “green” detergent into the soap compartment.
On a good note, because of my senior status, my bank now charges $9.95 a month in fees instead of $13.95 . What can I do with the extra $4.00 savings each month? Would that $4.00 buy me a package of much needed Depends down the road?
In summation, I guess I finally realize who I really write for. I write to entertain and provide information for others- but mostly I write for myself. Shunning the advice an esteemed editor gave me two years ago that ‘old’ does not sell readership, I publish this myself of my own free will despite supposed repercussions of being unread. Now that I am older I pay less attention to what people say- as I will never outlive my enthusiasm to write, and I am one hell of a stubborn woman. As Bette Davis once said:
“Old age ain’t no place for sissies.” 
Amen to that sister!

With a Little Photographic Help — The Friendship Club of Carleton Place



Today it’s a peaceful park behind town hall, with a fountain, benches and a few plaques. In the 1980’s, this building hugged Town Hall tightly and housed the Senior Citizen’s Friendship Club and before that Carleton Place Public Utility Commission. There is a binder full of photos from The Friendship Club at the Carleton Place and Beckwith Heritage Museum. If you would like to see it lease contact the museum and they will be happy to show it to you.



The majority of the Carleton Place & District Youth Centre on Mill Street was demolished in early October. The building is also remembered as the old Fire Hall. “The remainder (was) renovated into a delightful building housing public washrooms,” LeBlanc stated, “and when completed, this new public gathering place will feature floral displays, seating and chess and checkers, all under sails for shade.”-NEWS JAN 23, 2014










Photos from the Carleton Place and Beckwith Heritage Museum

Would You Go Out Without Makeup?


Is something wrong with our society when others clap and cheer just because celeb women are brave enough to come out on stage with no make-up on?

Some commented on different sites that the secret is now out why so many relationships start to go down hill after that first sleepover. Other comments said they looked like they were dragged over 40 miles of bad road – face first. That made me angry, and kudos to all ladies who forgo makeup daily for their inner beauty– as we are all beautiful ladies – inside and out.

Special note to the person that I once saw comment somewhere that all 50 something-year-old women should be in makeup all the time.
This is a picture of me as raw as you can get this morning. I am what I am and proud of it at the age of 64, and yes, I do glow in the dark. Actually, my British-bred white skin can summon boats lost at sea better than any lighthouse.

I challenge every single woman to do this!


Buy Linda Secaspina’s Books— Flashbacks of Little Miss Flash Cadilac– Tilting the Kilt-Vintage Whispers of Carleton Place and 4 others on Amazon or Amazon Canada or Wisteria at 62 Bridge Street in Carleton Place