Like my grandfather's closet

This middle-aged man learned early in life about
the value of  good hot bath thanks to his Mom.  

Legend has it that somewhere in our middle-aged man journey of becoming an old man, our personal hygiene starts to go south.  Is it true?  

I don’t know for sure although I’ve met several old men who have given me olfactory evidence that it might be true.

What do others have to say about this?  An internet search led me to a webpage stating:

“Our distinctive scent is caused by bacteria on our skin reacting with sweat and sebum released from our pores and this natural smell changes as we age.  According to one study, middle-aged men had the most intense body odor.”

This ambassador of all middle-aged men around the world is aware of studies like this and had this to say about such an allegation:

"We middle-aged men will always smell nice like a splash of Old Spice."

  Click here to read more

Contributing to declining personal hygiene is the conscious “business decision” one makes that taking a daily bath or shower is no longer necessary.  An aging, more tired and previously-important businessman who no longer has to go out in the business world looking like a pretty boy might find new comfort in skipping his daily encounter with a hot wash rag and bar of soap that not too long ago he would have found unthinkable. 

Another factor to declining personal hygiene might be leaky urine syndrome time - or LUST for short - due to middle-aged and old man prostate problems.  Walking around in piss-stained underwear that might be two days aged along with the same number of days since a bath or shower intensifies and adds to the stink-risk.  I’m told, but don’t know for sure, there are underwear guards that can be worn to manage this risk.

Staying in the same stink-zone is the risk of middle-aged man and old-man butt odor perhaps brought on by an aging digestive system that no longer works like a champ, and further exacerbated by the lack of reaching and bending flexibility and hand-dexterity that makes it more difficult for those squeaky-clean butt wipes that long ago were athletically-possible.

This is all very real and scary to me. 

Who am I to think I won’t be a stinking old-man in due time or that I’m not already a stinking middle-aged man!  These declines, you know, creep up on us ever so slowly.  That stinking old man we know never thought for a moment when he was 60 years young like yours truly, that he would one day be another witness to what younger people universally believe of older people stinking. 

So I’ll continue to scrub my body each day using hot water and soap in my never-ending battle for truth, justice, the American way and middle-aged man personal hygiene. 

During those temptations to skip my daily cleansing, like when I feel extra tired and lazy and harboring thoughts that nobody will know and besides I really don’t smell because I haven’t done anything to create a stink, I’ll be motivated not to be hygienic-slothful out of fear of smelling like my grandfather’s closet.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

Happy Birthday Mom!

My Mom was born on May 9, 1931 so today is her 84th birthday. Here is a  poem for her:

Happy Birthday Mom!

Happy birthday Mom, it's number 84; wishing you a wonderful day and many, many more.

Life began it seems so very long ago; an amazing life you've lived with hopefully more to go. 

As a youngster working in the fields with brothers and sisters, picking fruit gave your hands many, many blisters.  

Later away you went starting your own life; many jobs you worked before becoming a wife.

Then as a mother of two girls and three boys; you gave them nurturing and birthday toys.

They became adults going their separate way, but memories of them as your little children remain to this day. 

You’ve been blessed with beauty. a kind heart and health, and many other blessings that are your God-given wealth.

So today please enjoy your birthday. food and drink; and know your recent health challenge is really not a big stink.

Happy Birthday Mom, praise God you're alive; we hope to be with you next year for number 85!

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

For your marriage fitness

40 years down many more to go!

Pierini Fitness posts a rare Sunday reflection today for a special occasion; to recognize and salute the chief executive blogger’s younger cousin and his darling wife as they celebrate their 40^th year of marriage. 

They became husband and wife 40 years ago today and are witnesses of marriage vows taken by a man and women; to live as husband and wife in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and to love and honor each other for all of the days of their lives.

Thank you Cousin Al and Loretta for your shining example of traditional marriage; it will always be a perpetual and sacred union between a man and woman that will never go out of style.

Your witness is a breath of fresh air in the confusing world we live in today brought on by those who frantically attempt to portray marriage as something else, something less and/or meant to be ended and then done again whenever one “feels” like it.

Pierini Fitness salutes you for your marriage fitness.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

Enjoy your eternal rest Gangee

Today I fondly remember my dearly departed paternal grandmother who I knew as “Gangee”.  She departed planet earth 40 years ago today en route to her Heavenly Father for eternal rest.

Her special love for me contributed to the self-esteem I have this day that I first became aware of one day when looking at myself in a mirror.  

Thanks to her, this aging middle-aged man – on a good day – still sees a 16-year old kid when looking in a mirror.

May perpetual light shine on her soul and may her soul and the souls of all the faithfully departed through the mercy of God rest in peace Amen.

Enjoy your eternal rest Gangee.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

Will always remain in my heart

I have very pleasant yesteryear memories of being a young boy and also later as a teenager visiting my grandmother and spending time with her on a Saturday evening watching one of her favorite television programs, The Lawrence Welk Show.  

While younger folks may not have a clue about this classic and very popular weekly television program, most middle-aged people like me definitely remember it and likely with much fondness.

The Lawrence Welk Show was an American television musical variety show hosted by none other than Lawrence Welk.  He was a big band leader who ran a tight ship of delivering wholesome entertainment week after week that may best be described by those who remember him and his show as “wunnerful, wunnerful!”

America loved the Lawrence Welk Show as evidenced by it being on television for 31 years – from 1951 to 1971 live and then in first-run syndication for another dozen years from 1971 to 1982.

The show always ended during its syndication years with the same closing theme – Adios, Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehen.  I can still see my grandmother sitting in her rocking chair ever so happy and relaxed while listening to this closing song with promises by Lawrence Welk that his show would be back next week.       

Here are the lyrics of this song and a video of it being sung at the end of the show:

Good night, good night until we meet again
Adios, au revoir, auf wiedersehen 'til then
And though it's always sweet sorrow to part
You know you'll always remain in my heart.

Good night, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you
Here's a wish and a prayer that every dream comes true
And now 'til we meet again
Adios, au revoir, auf wiedersehen
Good Night!

Good night, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you
Here's a wish and a prayer that every dream comes true
And now 'til we meet again
Adios, au revoir, auf wiedersehen
Good Night!

The lyrics of this song dance in my mind this evening which is my last day of being a quinquagenarian.  Tomorrow I’ll officially be a sexagenarian and, quite frankly, I’m looking forward to it.  I hope I make it and promise to live life to its fullest during this new decade of my life. 

But in a moment of middle-aged man reflection, as my quinquagenarian clock approaches midnight, there’s a certain melancholy resonating in my emotion about leaving the who I’ve been these past ten years in my gracefully aging journey. 

Yet one of the many things I’ve learned about myself these past ten years is how I resist change in a big time way but once change occurs, I’m amazingly resilient and embrace whatever new is now my present.

I hope this will be my experience tomorrow. 

Nonetheless, nostalgia strikes me as I compose my final quinquagenarian reflection, and the lyrics of Adios, Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehen dance in my mind and heart as I reminisce. 

So as I prepare for bedtime, I’ll privately sing the first verse lyrics of this song to myself as I fondly remember the past ten years of my life.

Good night, good night until we meet again
Adios, au revoir, auf wiedersehen 'til then
And though it's always sweet sorrow to part
You know you'll always remain in my heart.

Yes, the past ten years of the life I’ve lived will always remain in my heart.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

It wasn't that bad

Chris "Isorez" Rezny

Pierini Fitness is blessed to have Mr. Chris “Isorez” Rezny as today’s guest blogger. He’s a 50-year young middle-aged man cyberspace friend of the chief executive blogger.   

Chris resides in the Chicago area with his wife and two sons and pays the family bills working in corporate America as a sales manager.  To keep his middle-aged man body fit, Chris exercises using an eclectic approach including barbell weightlifting, calisthenics, "Isorez” isometrics and yes middle-aged man walking at a brisk pace.

His middle-aged man reflection today as a guest blogger shares his thoughts and feelings last year about this time.  Grab a chair, sit back, relax and enjoy what Chris has to share.

Last year about this time, I spent time reflecting that I would soon enter a new decade of life.  Then one day, I decided to take the rambling thoughts swarming in my mind about turning age 50 and capture them with written words for my down-the-road archival benefit.  

What follows is what I composed that day:

It’s coming . . .

As much as I have tried to convince myself it’s not true, I will be turning 50 this year.

So that means I’m still officially not 50 as I write this out but yes it lurks ominously around the corner.  But since I’m going to live to be over 100, I guess, I’m not really middle-aged yet?  Cool!

Reality check – yes I’m middle-aged and have probably fit that age bracket for the past few years.  I try to fool myself, like when I take a survey and check the box for 40-49 for my age and then privately crack a sly smile while patting myself on my back and thinking “Hot Dog!” at least I didn’t have to check the 50-59 age selection.

I don’t’ think there’s anything I’ll fear about turning the "BIG 5-0" but it still yanks on my brain and pulls on my heart.  Maybe I’ll creak more or walk a bit more bent over and memories might fade.

Man, I’ll officially be old. Me?  Nope, this can’t be!

Right now I’m struggling with different physical aspects.  One of them is that I have two high school athletes living under my roof that I lovingly refer to as my sons.  They’re both bigger than me!

The oldest one can put me over his head and bound up and down the stairs with me over his shoulders.  It’s a bit humiliating . . . but enjoyable all the same.

I’ve gotten used to being called “mister” and “sir” a long time ago just through youth coaching of baseball and football.  But now it happens in a store!

I’ve been asked if I need help “loading that” and this ticked me off; I kindly refused the assistance.  Then I remember when I was that young and probably would’ve asked the same question to an older man like me.

I do my best to keep in shape and structure workouts of resistance and cardio benefits at least four times a week if not more.  One of my favorites is when I focus on a good long walk at a brisk pace.

Six years ago I would never had thought that walking was a workout and at times my sons are ruthless in their side glance when I tell them what I did.  But the bottom line is I feel good and I don’t have pain afterwards. 

My one benefit is that I really don’t think I look “almost 50” and maybe I do look like a 16-year old kid when looking in my bathroom mirror like I know one person says he does.    I have the benefits of a smoother complexion thanks to my mother. 

Hey, I can pass for 48.  But do I look 50?  Heck no!  Do I turn heads?  Nope; I’m just being honest here.

However, this year’s "Turkey Bowl" football game with friends, and many more of my sons’ friends and their college age brothers, proved to be another telling point for me.  While I didn’t embarrass myself with four receptions and one touchdown pass thrown by “moi”, my knee hurt for three weeks afterwards from running and falling on the frozen ground. 

Yes sir – three weeks!  That there folks is called a “measuring stick”.  

I take a slight bit of pride that the amount of grown-ups dwindled as the game went on.  I hung in there with the kids but paid the price because my knee lingered in pain for three weeks afterwards before I could do a workout with lunges. That's enough of a tell-tale sign that my internal  honesty detector has been tripped.

I need to embrace it, look forward to it and find a high hill from which to shout.    

Hey I’m going to be 50!  Alright, did I just say that?  

Gee-whiz; what an embarrassing moment this is for an older guy.  Maybe I’ll just whisper it for now. Better yet, I’ll just keep it to myself for a while longer.

Almost a year has passed from when I composed the above.  I turned age 50 and embraced a new decade of life.   So I guess a postscript to what I composed a while ago is in order.

What can I now say about turning 50? 

I know!  It wasn't that bad. 

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

Staring at a blank sheet of paper

I was on a creative roll last month and composed three consecutive Sundays of cyber-published middle-aged man written reflections here at Pierini Fitness.  

Last evening, I sat down with my very best plans to compose another masterpiece and make in four in a row.

I wasn’t sure what I would create and seldom do I know when writing a new composition.   Thoughts just enter my mind and strings of words are seamlessly chosen at a lightning-fast pace, thanks to skills acquired over 40 years ago in a high school typing class. 

For the most part, the written reflections I compose are quickly done.   I’ve written, edited and posted some of my best stuff in 15 minutes or less.

But last evening that wasn’t the case.  I started with one composition and put a good 10 to 15 minutes into it before deciding that it was a bunch of nonsense; so I abandoned that effort and sat in mental silence about the nothing I had to show for my efforts.

After a few minutes, another idea came into my head so I went to work with what I thought would be a clever and great middle-aged man written reflection.  About five minutes later, I found myself feeling the same as I did earlier; not satisfied with what I was creating, considering it more garbage and then making another “business decision” to throw it overboard.  There I was again with nothing to show for my efforts.

That’s the way it is for those who are creative or strive to be.  We all get our turn visiting the dark side of creative dryness.  What I’ve learned when it’s my turn to experience it – after going through a pout session and maybe some despair – is how stars shine the brightest in the darkness of the night.

Yup, I realized that again last night when looking at my computer monitor and staring at a blank sheet of paper.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

Long-winded people I’ve ever met

I’ve been accused of being too wordy in my written compositions, such as letters and e-mail correspondence, and I'll accept this as valid criticism.  

It must stem from my desire to be complete and not misunderstood which would be an occupational hazard in my profession.

If my wordiness has its origin in the work I do, it’s because I use written communication to advocate a client’s point of view.  Sometimes it may be a controversy or dispute so I must make sure the message I communicate on their behalf is loaded with convincing lines of reasoning and fully supported by authority and evidence.  It sometimes takes lots of words to do this successfully.

In any event, you can call me “Mr. Wordy” knowing you’re not the first to do so and you won’t hurt my feelings.

And I suppose the same could be true with my spoken words but that depends on what the conversation is and to whom I’m discussing something with.  While I take pride in being a good listener, it’s only natural that I’d like my turn of “having the mic” in an extended and healthy conversation.

Sometimes getting an equal share of talking time is no problem like when the person I’m talking to and I both yield to each other at natural breaking points so that our conversation sounds like a symphony performing a classical music masterpiece.  Other times, however, with a different person, our conversation music isn’t so smooth particularly when one of us “hogs the mic” in what ends up being a one-sided conversation.

“What is the sound of one hand clapping?” I may ask myself when getting the short end of equal time in a one-sided conversation being dominated by the other person and not me.

These long-winded and oftentimes full-of-hot-air “mic hogs” know who they are and you can usually spot them from a distance.  They are also of the same stock of those who are “selfie-prone” with their smartphone cameras and take great delight in uploading another selfie of themselves on Facebook to display right next to the hundreds of other selfies previously uploaded for their Facebook friends.

These folks speak their own language called “Me, me, and me!”

Another characteristic of these people is a common preface they frequently utter after blowing their hot air for what seems like eternity.  They typically do this when realizing what they’ve done and wanting to save face with their exhausted listener.  

And what is their prefatory statement? 

Those who say “To make a long story short . . .” are some of the most long-winded people I’ve ever met.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

Like a really empty bottle of ketchup

Several years ago I had a conversation with the CEO of an association representing the food processing industry and the subject of waste came up.  He shared how despite our best efforts to use all of some food products, some gets unused and thrown away.  He gave an example of a bottle of ketchup to make his point. 

I could relate to what he was sharing and actually agreed with him while recalling many instances in my ketchup-using past where the bottle was almost empty but not quite.  There was still some ketchup lining the bottom and sides of the bottle and despite my best efforts to get that last drop of ketchup – turning the bottle upside down, squeezing it for dear life, pounding it on the kitchen table and so forth – I eventually abandoned my efforts in frustration, considered the bottle empty and then tossed it in the kitchen trash container.

I made a “business decision” that I had used enough and for all practical purposes the bottle was empty and I had used it all to the very last drop.  But in reality, there was more ketchup in the bottle and by tossing the bottle in the trash container; I lost my opportunity to “use it all”.

In a middle-aged man reflective moment, I started to think about that bottle of ketchup in relation to my daily efforts to be the best I can to all those who are part of my life – my family, friends and clients.

Certainly I begin each day with the best of intentions to pour my heart, mind and soul into everything I do.  Freshly awakened after a good night’s sleep, I’m like a newly-opened bottle of ketchup; my efforts to do well and be good flow so easily.  But as the day goes on, like that almost-empty bottle of ketchup, my reservoir of abilities, energy and good intentions start to empty and it takes a little more squeezing, pounding and shaking to get another drop of good out of me.

And just like that almost-empty bottle of ketchup, at some point, even though I have more left, I make a “business decision” that enough is enough and that I’ve given all that I can for the day.  At that moment, I’m like both the person trying to get the last drop of ketchup out of an almost-empty bottle and the almost-empty ketchup bottle – frustrated and depleted.    

At the end of a challenging day when I finally get an opportunity to call it quits until tomorrow, and lay my head on the comfortable pillow in my bed, ready for hours of restful sleep and rejuvenation, I hope my final thought before checking out when Mr. Sandman arrives, is that I used all my God-given talents this day with no wasted effort just like a really empty bottle of ketchup.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

One day you and I will both go

Photo taken during
2007 trip to Italy.

So here I am this early Sunday morning looking out my family room window seeing dense winter fog and a sky above so gloomy and gray.  I remind myself how I’m within striking distance of a new decade of life. 

Those who know me know of my analytical and number-calculating mindset so to honor my legend I do some quick math and discover this Sunday morning I’m 59 years and 89 cents.  This realization of being on the older side of middle-aged manhood makes me ponder about the life I’ve lived thus far and more specifically the current decade of my life that will soon be ending.    

I think about my faith, the sacraments I’ve received and the prayers I’ve prayed for the special intentions of so many family, friends and clients. 

I think about family, friends and clients who have departed me from planet earth and how blessed I was to have them part of my life.  I’m grateful for those who are still here and contribute to my sense of who I am and who I want to be.

I think about the fitness I’ve gained and lost in my see-saw training journey; the weights lifted, miles run, kettlebell repetitions completed, and burpees done to exhaustion.

I think about the money I’ve made, spent, donated and invested wondering about how healthy is my relationship with the financial resources with which I’ve been blessed.

And finally, I think about the good health I’ve been blessed with thus far knowing that it could be taken away from me in a moment with no advance notice.

Coming out of a reflective gaze to my present whereabouts, I stare at my computer and read an internet news article about a recent research study finding that people having an optimistic approach in all walks of life are likely to have more healthy hearts.  This article notes that optimism doesn’t just lead to a better outlook on life, but possibly an improved one as well since this study reveals it can lead to a healthier heart.

Well a healthier heart is just one of many variables that will contribute to how much time I have remaining on planet earth.

I’m optimistic about the rest of my life and a new decade of it that hopefully I’ll experience.  There will be challenges along the way but I believe the blessings of good faith, family, fitness, fortune and health will far outweigh these challenges.  If I’m willing to do the hard work and I pray that I will and not be lethargic in my pursuits.

Going back into my reflective inner-self, I recall something I wrote late last year when in a doodling reflective mode about the rest of my life.  It reads as follows: 

"Follow your passions, surrender your fears, rid your angers and be not afraid to shed tears.  Learn to have compassion because it never goes out of fashion.  Live a long life and know, one day you and I will both go."

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum