Letters

I think, most certainly, my life has been caught up between black-and-white movies and “Star Wars.” Cannot seem to catch up to Iron Man just yet.

Morals and family values are all black and white, while sword fights and video violence is purely special effects, with very little dialogue.

I like me. And my yesterday songs sung by my mom and Aunt Nancy, while Sinatra was sounding on the phonograph and radio after coming home from church on Sundays.

The beginning was simple, parented and diverse, pretty similar to today. Our government was in turmoil, we were at war, recouping from a war, and struggling to make a meal last till tomorrow. Respected our elders while challenging them till the edge of “because I said so.”

I can’t seem to matriculate into today. I don’t fit into the acronyms or the gifs and look forward to the new Webster’s (if they make it available in paperback and not just online).

And, because glamour and colors and psychedelic styles were cool then, my monotoned makeup and my totally black garments in my closet now really seem a bit boring and monochromatic, while trying to hide the signs of gravity on my face becomes harder and harder.

Finding a partner/companion/main squeeze is becoming nearly impossible. I watch the already skinny, pony-tailed joggers run for their waistlines; the gyms are full of already healthy, well-proportioned people in two-piece tights and tops. Men my age like women half theirs, while “a little older” men are usually a bit compromised in body, mind and spirit.

And so my Saturday nights are spent snuggled with my cats and black-and-white reminders of a life, styles and loves long gone without a chance of resurrection.

No more fedoras, or well-dressed gentlemen in spats and trousers that landed at the waist and not the knees. No more girls with gloves that button, or veiled hats that hid beckoning eyelashes.

My todays are filled with bird songs and ocean dips, while waiting for handwritten notes from family and friends delivered by the postman.

I do a lot of prayer, cook up exotic dishes that could feed an army, while wishing for a handsome, gentle man, with a kind heart and smile, to finally help me take out the trash and make our own black-and-white memories.

Kathryn Abugel

Southampton