My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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“56 Up”

Turkey turkey and more turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes etc. etc. The fridge is still full. Luckily the tall young man is coming over soon to help clear it all out, something he does extremely well. Wayson and my tenants Christopher and Carol did their best to help today, too. The weather is incredible – surely the most beautiful fall ever.

I’ve cut another thousand words, so more than 7000 words are gone from the manuscript. I hope now it’s lean and muscled, not too thin and shivering, naked, in the wind. It’s amazing how many words you can lose once you’ve set your mind to it. CUT! It feels so good. What does not feel good is my butt, from sitting here endlessly cutting and then eating turkey.

This phase is now over; time to put my mind, once again, to finding a publisher or an agent. I just KNOW someone out there is eager, nay, desperate, to read this fine piece of newly slimmed down non-fiction.

Come out, come out wherever you are.

The treat Monday night – “56 Up,” catching up with those old friends whom we’ve followed since their youth. Again, it’s a miracle to watch the group grow up, mature, find work, marry, divorce, marry again, parent and grandparent. The surprise is that in 1964, Michael Apted chose such a diverse group of children who’d all grow into interesting, nice adults. Tony, the Cockney cab driver, brown in the Spanish sun and caring for one of his granddaughters while his daughter is in rehab. John, the snootiest of them all at seven, now fundraising for an orphanage in Bulgaria, dancing in a circle with Bulgarian dancers and tending the damaged children. Handsome Nick, who grew up on a remote farm and became a nuclear physicist in the U.S. In “28 Up” he was married to the wrong woman; watching, I cried, “Nick, she’s so negative, she’ll drag you down!” By the next one he was separated, and now has a strong American wife. We see him visiting the old farm, reminiscing, his tall American son by his side.

Though many were at least once divorced, every single one is now happily in a couple, except for Neil, the one who was homeless at 28 and suffers from some kind of mental disorder – mild schizophrenia, perhaps. I watch hoping to see my own life reflected in this disparate group, but only crazy Neil lives unpartnered, as I do. But then, he never married, does not have children or the most beautiful grandson on the planet. Almost all the others are grandparents. I identify.

They’re seven years younger than I am. Next film, “63 Up,” they’ll all be the age I am now, and I’ll be 70. 70! Can’t wait. The whole series, from “7 Up” on, is apparently on Netflix, I’m told. Don’t miss it.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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