The Senior Scene THE QUARTERLY NEWSLETTER OF

THE SENIORS of the GROVE

It’s a new year and time to be a bit philosophical. Roger Plumb, a regular duplicate bridge player, dropped this off to be considered for the newslet-ter. I like it so much; I want to share it on my page.

The Art of Action, by Wilfert A. Peterson

All progress flows from man’s mind in action.

Religions, philosophies, formulas, projects, blue-prints, programs, and plans are inert until action infuses them with power.

The greatest truths of God and the mightiest ideas of man remain static and unfruitful when imprisoned in books and chained to pages of paper.

ACTION releases truth so it can inspire and re-generate; action releases ideas so they can bless and benefit.

Your own dreams, hopes, aims, or purposes mark time until you start them marching.

The work to be done, or the goal you seek will only be achieved when you get off dead center and make a start. Goethe gave us the magic key: “Only begin and then the mind grows heated. Only begin and the task will be completed.”

Your ideas and ideals become dynamic when you do something about them, or when you express them in everyday action.

Your dreams come true when you act to turn them into realities.

“Art,” said Tolstoy, “is a human activity having for its purpose the transmission to others of the highest and best feelings to which men have ris-en.”

ACTION sculptures your life; action sculptures the world. You practice the art of action when you act to bring the good into visibility.

As we start fresh in 2017, these are some good words to consider. Do you have ideas, desires, or hopes that have been in your thoughts but not brought forth into action? Or maybe you are hop-ing for a more loving and peaceful world but not sure how you can make that a possibility.

These words to live by given to us by Wilfert Peter-son tell us that until we move into action, no pro-gress can be made. We need to start living our dreams, acting as we hope the world to be, and do-ing the “work” needed to reach that goal. These words also tell me that stressing or worrying do nothing to move us forward, and rather we need to move into action to “release ideas so they can bless and benefit.”

This year, I am going to try and really be present in my days. I am going to try and not have 5 or 10 things going through my brain each moment. I am going to try and live every day in the slowed-down pace I allow myself when my grandbabies are around.

I recently lost my cell phone because I placed it on top of my car, forgot, got in and drove off with it up there. I was thinking about what a crazy morn-ing I had ahead of me: a bike ride with the MG Wheelers that I was attending (did I have my hel-met, shoes, warm clothes), the brochure that was due the next day, a performance review with my supervisor; and I totally forgot to pay attention to the here and now. I catch myself so often in that state… my goal this year is to make a change so that I don’t live out what is next, before living the now.

It is 2017: A new year, a new slate. What are your dreams, hopes, aims or purposes? It is time to get them “marching!”

Kris

Vol. 22, No. January, February, March 2017

Page 2

A Whole Lot Smarter

Training Your Brain

In my never-ending quest for motivation to exer-cise, I recently came across a collection of studies done over the last ten years that link specific exer-cises with specific brain growth. This rapidly growing body of research shows that popular exer-cises such as walking, swimming, weight lifting, and yoga do more than keep us physically fit. They also provide a hefty boost to our brainpower.

In a six-month trial, comparisons were made be-tween one group taking brisk walks for an hour twice a week and another lifting weights for the same amount of time. People who lifted weights saw greater gains in their associative memory like recalling how two things are related to one anoth-er, an important skill in coming up with solutions to problems. Both groups improved their spatial

memory, like remem-bering where they put their keys or their glass-es. Those who walked also saw improvements in episodic memory, the ability to recall an event or episode in life. The aerobic exercise of walk-

ing also resulted in gains in volume to the hippo-campus, the region of the brain involved in memory formation.

Leisurely walks are also beneficial and in a differ-ent way than the brisk walks. In experiments at Stanford University, people who took a leisurely walk were able to come up with more unique uses for ordinary objects than those who didn’t walk, an increase in creativity. Whether the walk hap-pened inside or outside, the effect was quite sub-stantial, even reaching a 60-percent increase in one study.

When University of Illinois researchers pitted peo-ple who did a 20-minute session of yoga against others who walked or jogged on a treadmill, the yoga group was faster and more accurate on tests of information recall and mental flexibility (the ability to shift from one thought or action to anoth-er) than they had been before doing the exercise.

With yoga, you are coached to stay in-the-moment and to focus on a particular movement or on your breathing. This is akin to meditation in that it helps you gain focus and push away distractive thoughts.

And finally, researchers at the University of North Florida had people walking on a balance beam, navigating around objects, and carrying awkward-ly-weighted items, then tested the cognitive effects. As these people adapted to different environmental and terrain changes, they challenged and strength-ened their working memory by up to 50 percent.

OK, no more excuses. I can do some yoga move-ments in the morning and a brisk or leisurely walk once a day. I think I can fit in some resistance train-ing with small weights while I’m at my desk or watching television. Lowes probably has a balance beam that I can bring home, and I can make it a point to carry awkwardly weighted objects. (Do groceries count?)

Let me know if my articles start sounding a whole lot smarter.

. . .Virginia Hanson

Truths Little Children Have Learned:

No matter how hard you try, you can’t baptize cats.

When your Mom is mad at your Dad, don’t let her brush your hair.

If your sister hits you, don’t hit her back. They always catch the second person.

Never ask your 3-year old brother to hold a to-mato.

You can’t trust dogs to watch your food.

Don’t sneeze when someone is cutting your hair.

The best place to be when you are sad is Grand-pa’s lap.

. . .Dolly Bentson

Page 3

Long Ago

Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot, Before the days of Dylan, or the dawn of Camelot. There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me.

For Ike was in the White House in that land where we were born, Where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.

We longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince, Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one's seen him since.

We danced to 'Little Darlin,' sang to 'Stagger Lee,’ And cried for Buddy Holly in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was so nice, And when they made a movie, they never made it twice.

We didn't have a Star Trek Five, or Psycho Two and Three, Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp, And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp.

We had a Mr.Wizard, but not a Mr. T, And Oprah couldn't talk yet, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go, At least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe. For youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be, Elvis was forever in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never seen the rock band that was Grateful to be Dead, And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson, and Zep-pelins were not Led.

And Beatles lived in gardens then, and Monkees lived in trees, Madonna was Mary in a Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars, And babies might be bottle-fed, but they were not grown in jars.

And pumping iron got wrinkles out, and 'gay' meant fancy-free, And dorms were never Co-Ed in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag, And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.

And hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea, And rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made Me, Me.

There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill, And fish were not called Wan-da, and cats were not called Bill.

And middle-age was 35, and old was 43, And ancient were our parents in the Land That Made Me, Me.

But all things have a season, we've heard them say, Now instead of Maybelline, we swear by Retin-A. They send us invitations to join AARP. We've come a long way, baby, from the Land That Made Me, Me.

So now we face a new world in slightly larger jeans, And wonder why they're using smaller print in magazines. And we tell our children's children of the way it used to be, Long ago, and far away in the Land That Made Me, Me.

If you didn't grow up in the fifties, You missed the greatest time in history. Hope you enjoyed this read as much as I did.

. . .contributed by Richard Lederar

Page 4

Winter is Here—So Enjoy!

The Skater With flashing blades he sped on ice. He steals the puck. We think that’s nice. Twisting, turning, he wheels about. Take the puck down the ice, we shout. Fifty-three pounds of drive and desire, Neither of which are up for hire. Legs pounding hard, stick guiding puck, Enemy ahead, he does not duck. Past the defenseman, going fast. The puck we yell, give it a blast. He swings, the puck goes far and wide. Feet flying up, he starts to slide. Flat on the ice and close to tears, The crowd sends him their love and cheers. At Six, it’s how you play the game, Not again will it be the same.

. . .Judy Granahan

Winter Storm

In the 1950’s we had lots of winter storms that blocked the east and west single lane road at Lawndale and 149th Avenue, which had high earth banks. The snow drifts were up to five feet deep, too deep for the V-plow to get through.

Mr. Beach had the snowplow to plow on the Day-ton Township Roads. He picked up about four farm boys with 10-inch grain shovels to shovel a path in the middle of the road about 18 inches deep. Then Mr. Beach drove the snowplow into bank until it stopped. We then shoveled the plow out, before Mr. Beach could back up. We repeated and repeated the shoveling and plowing until the road was open.

. . .Walt Schumacher

Kickerenos!

In 1954, when money was scarce, as it always was with a large rural family, my mother decid-ed that it was luxury time. She needed new winter boots to survive the long, cold winter

with her perpetual chilblains. Kickerenos were lined winter boots that a lady could shove her feet into! Mom ordered Kickerenos-–they came in black, brown, or red—and most assuredly, my mother would go for a sedate color. They arrived by train! Imagine my mother’s shock when they were RED! No decent woman would be seen in such siren red boots! SO, I became the 1st girl in 6th grade with Red Kickerenos!

. . .Pat Ruffing

Mom’s Wisdom

A couple of hours into a visit with his mother, she noticed her son hadn’t lit up a cigarette once. “Are you trying to kick the habit?” she asked. “No,” he said. “I’ve got a cold, and I don’t smoke when I’m not feeling well.” “You know,” she observed, “you’d probably live longer if you were sick more often.”

Page 5

Beauty Surrounds Us

Minnesota: Land of Snowflakes

(to the tune of “Up on the Housetop”)

Out on the driveway shovel in hand,

Oh we live in a glorious land,

Great Minnesota, Land of Lakes.

Also the land of white snowflakes.

Ho-Ho-Ho, Snow, Snow, Snow,

Ho-Ho-Ho, Ice and Snow

Out to the driveway, oh such fun,

When will we ever see the sun?

Now start the auto, turn the key.

You guessed right, dead battery.

Great Minnesota, Land of Lakes.

Also the land of white snowflakes.

Ho-Ho-Ho, Snow, Snow, Snow,

Ho-Ho-Ho, Ice and Snow.

Jumper cables, oh such fun,

When will we ever see the sun? . . . Author Unknown

The Kindness of Strangers

The little old lady sat hunched over by her usual table next to the window in her favorite cafe, her mittened fingers encircling a mug of steaming hot cocoa. Once warm enough, she slipped her hands from her well-tattered mittens. Then she slowly removed her tasseled woolen cap, exposing her gray frizzled hair. She shook off her dingy sweat-er and settled back in her chair enjoying her cup of steaming hot cocoa and the snow-globe world out-side, her cane propped against the seat. A heavy gust of wind blew fluffy white snow across the parking lot. A sigh of relief said she was happy to be inside. Glancing out the café win-dow, she noticed a little boy and girl leaning against the strong wind. They crossed the street safely and headed toward the cafe. With a flurry of snow following them they burst through the door, stood for a moment, then hus-tled to a booth and sat huddled close to each other. With big eyes looking up, they asked the waitress to bring them two cups of hot water. They quickly cupped the hot mugs with their cold stiff hands and grinned at each other. Minutes passed before they glanced at the menu set before them, pointing and whispering. The old lady called to the waitress, gave her some money, and spoke a few words. She lingered over hot cocoa and watched the children as they gazed at the menu. Then she stood, slowly tugged her tasseled woolen cap onto her head, and struggled into her dingy sweater and tattered mittens. She turned and watched the waitress deliver plates of meat, potatoes, gravy, and warm milk to the children. Outside the cafe she braced herself against the wind and shuffled her high-topped tennis shoes in the swirling snow. Continuing down the street, she nodded politely to each person she met, her cane swinging in the air.

. . .Shirley Christenson

Trees: Shadows

I see the trees, and their beauty cast a shadow upon the new-fallen snow. My mind and thoughts wander as they sway to and fro. I gaze in awe, as their snow-laden branches create an image of beauty for all.

The stately tall pine stretches far across the land in its mighty majestic power, giving way for the Maple and Elm trees to unite their beauty, as I stand and watch them all.

I see the tracks of the rabbits and squirrels scattered beneath them and I thank God for providing their refuge, So big, tiny and small.

As I release my thoughts above and render thanks for the shadows of the trees, I quietly gaze around the yard, utter a silent prayer and give my thanks for the shadow trees, their beauty each and every one, big and small.

. . . Karen Provo

Page 6

Laughter is Good for your Health

And So It Was A computer was something on TV from a science fiction show of note. A window was something you hated to clean, And ram was the father of a goat.

Memory was something you lost with age. A program was a TV show. A cursor used profanity. A keyboard was a piano.

Log on was adding wood to the fire. A hard drive was a long trip on the road. A mouse pad was where a mouse lived. And a backup happened to your commode.

I guess I’ll stick to my pad and pencil and the Memory in my head. I hear nobody’s been killed in a computer crash, But when it happens, they wish they were dead.

. . . Author Unknown

Minnesota Telephone Company

A Minnesota phone company was going to hire one team of telephone pole installers, and the boss had to choose between a team of two Norwegian guys and a team of two Irish guys.

The boss met with both teams and said, “Here’s what we’ll do. Each team will be installing poles out on the new road for a day. The team that in-stalls the most phone poles gets the job.

Both teams headed out.

At the end of the shift, Pat and Mike, the Irish guys, came back; and the boss asked them how many poles had they installed. They said it was tough going, but they’d put in twelve.

The boss asked, “How many poles did you guys install?”

Ole, the team leader, wiped his brow and sighed, “Sven and me, we got three in.”

The boss gasped, “Three? Those two Irish guys put in twelve!”

“Oh Yah,” said Ole, “but you should see how much they left sticking out of the ground!”

Road Hazards

This morning while on my way to work, I looked over to my left; and there was a woman in a brand new Cadillac doing 65 mph with her face up next to her rear view mirror putting on her eyeliner.

I looked away for a couple seconds to continue shaving and when I looked back, she was halfway over in my lane, still working on that makeup.

As a man, I don't scare easily.

But she scared me so much; I had to put on my seat belt, and I dropped my electric shaver,

That knocked the donut out of my other hand.

In all the confusion of trying to straighten out the car using my knees against the steering wheel, it knocked my cell phone away from my ear.

My cell phone fell into my coffee which was between my legs.

This ruined the damn phone, soaked my trou-sers, and disconnected an important call.

Damn women drivers !!!!!

How Was I Born?

You’ll love this…..

“You Got Male!”

Page 7

It’s Never Too Late

A Tale of She and He SHE and HE went to the same schools.

SHE got A’s, and HE got A’s.

SHE took academic courses and dreamed of col-lege.

HE took academic courses and went to college.

SHE settled for a business course and a bookkeep-ing job.

HE went on for a Masters and a Ph.D.

HE became the youngest full professor at the Uni-versity.

And SHE was very proud of her brother.

SHE worked and educated her children.

One son, micro-biologist and chemist, then den-tist.

One daughter, pharmacist, then programmer-analyst.

Optician, teacher, banker—SHE was proud of her chil-dren.

Sixty-six years it has been, and now

SHE graduates from college.

Wearing robe, cap and tassel, SHE joins the procession,

Fighting back tears of pride, yet sadness too. . . . E .Irene Theis

If I Had My Life to Live Over

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited my friends over to din-ner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have burned the pink candles sculpt-ed like a rose before they melted in storage.

I would have sat on the lawn with my chil-dren and not worried about grass stains.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never had said, “Later, now go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more “I love you’s”. . . more “I’m sorry’s” . . . but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute . . . look at it and really see it . . . live it . . . and never give it back.

. . .Erma Bombeck

Advice from Maxine

My mind works like lightning, one bril-liant flash and it is gone.

It used to be, only death and taxes. Now, of course, there’s shipping and handling too.

A husband is someone who, after taking the trash out, gives the impression that he just cleaned the whole house.

Maxine’s idea of a Super Bowl is a toilet that cleans itself.

If you need a shoulder to cry on, pull off to the side of the road.

Seniors of the Grove Maple Grove Parks & Rec Dept 12951 Weaver Lake Road Maple Grove, MN 55369

The next Newsletter will be published in April. Please submit items for the next issue by February 1, 2017. Please send or bring your stories, jokes, tidbits. to Kris. Rough drafts are welcome.

PRSRT STD U.S. Postage

PAID Permit No. 65

Maple Grove, MN

Bits ‘n Pieces

Newsletter Committee: Kris Orluck, Judy Granahan, Marilyn Schroeder, Marilyn Pederson.

Contributors: Dolly Bentson, Shirley Christenson, Virginia Hanson, Richard Lederar, Wilferts A. Peter-son, Karen Provo, Pat Ruffing, Walt Schumacher, E. Irene Theis.

Toast to the New Year

Let this coming year be better than all the others. Vow to do some of the things you’ve always wanted to do but couldn’t find the time.

Find the time to be kind and thoughtful. Give a compliment. It’s sure to give someone a badly needed lift.

Think things through. Forgive an injustice. Lis-ten more. Be kind.

Lighten up. When you feel like blowing your top, ask yourself, “Will it matter in a week from today?”

Walk tall, and smile more. You’ll look 10 years younger.

Don’t be afraid to say, “I love you.”

Call a forgotten friend. Share a funny story with someone whose spirits are dragging. A good laugh can be very good medicine.

And have a Happy New Year! . . .Author Unknown

RETURN SERVICE REQUESTED

Did you Know The average person walks 913 miles per year, and drinks 556 glasses (27.8 gallons) of wine per year.

Which is 33 miles to the gallon, Which is pretty good.

A Great Big Thank You to all of you who have sent us stories, articles, or jokes. Some we use in the next newsletter; others we save until they fit the season of year. Some we have to shorten, and we hope you don’t mind. Please keep sending your stories, memories, and creations to us.