If my wife had never scolded me on that Sunday, I probably never would have gone to my first acupuncture session. And if it weren’t for acupuncture, I’m certain I wouldn’t feel as good as I do today.
I will spare you all the medical details, but eight years ago I was struck by extremely discomforting chronic prostatitis, which I later learned was triggering my first-ever bout of severe chemical depression.
I visited many doctors and specialists. I had undergone a battery of tests. I had tried numerous prescriptions. But there was simply no improvement.
When it comes to funerals, many Baby Boomers are literally thinking outside the box.
Of course, that really shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. Those born between 1946 and 1964 have been constantly reinventing most life stages as they have been passing through them. So why should death be any different?
Over the next few years, you should be prepared to encounter a whole different array of extremely personalized funerals.
Recently a violent summer storm swept through the Atlanta-area community where we live near our grandchildren. My seven-year-old grandson Owen, who only a few weeks before had finally become comfortable with July 4th holiday fireworks, rushed from his bed to his parents’ room.
Earlier in the evening, there had been reports of expected high winds or even tornadoes. As the thunder pealed and the lightning flashed, the possibility of a tornado seemed paramount in Owen’s mind. For the next 15 minutes or so, he besieged his Dad with questions. “What’s a tornado again, Daddy?” “What do we do if a tornado does come? Do we hide in the basement?”
Finally, after receiving patiently delivered answers and a series of hugs, Owen fell asleep again.