Hold me closer Tony Danza

We're talking about being in the prime of your life and other good things

Hello friends! I woke up this morning, and there was snow on the ground, and I was not stoked. While December snow is cause for celebration, March snow is offensive—it’s supposed to be almost spring. But we are keeping calm and carrying on. This week, we are discussing when exactly the prime of life is, whether good things always happen, and, surprisingly, Tony Danza. Because who is the boss? It is you? Maybe Charles is actually in charge.

Let’s get into it.

Things that make sense

The prime of your life. I was at my doctor’s office the other day, and there was an elderly woman in the waiting room with her grown-up son. She was 92 (he told me), and the son was probably in his 60s. They were having a sweet conversation while waiting for her appointment, and at one point, the son told his mom that she was “in the prime of her life.” And she laughed, grabbed his hand, and said so sincerely, “No, son, you are in the prime of your life.” I was there, feeling old because I needed to talk to my doctor about things like hormones, mammograms, and preventing Alzheimer’s, and I had one of those very basic “Aha” moments. What if the prime of your life is a relative concept? And importantly, what if we don’t know we’re in it until it’s passed? Or, perhaps, we’re always in it, depending on whom you ask. My 16-year-old remarked the other day that he only had two more years of “being a kid” left, and he was bummed for a minute. I told him the best was yet to come. I mean, he gets to be in his 20s—that’s a lot of good times. I imagine this is what the 92-year-old woman felt like, sitting next to her 60-something son. He has so much more fun ahead of him. And maybe if she met a 98-year-old, that person would tell her to send it while she could. Are we all in the prime of our lives all the time? Asking seriously, does that make sense?

Tony Danza. I have a non-scientific theory that today’s teens and twenty-somethings know exponentially more pop culture references related to decades before they were born than any other generation. It’s a weird superpower they have, and we can probably credit the internet. But let’s observe this theory in the wild: I was recently at the grocery store, and the overhead speakers were blasting Elton John. The teenage grocery bagger turned to the checker ringing me up and said, “I love this song.” Then he started singing, “Hooooold me closer, Tony Danza.” We were all laughing at his lyric when the checker said, “Do you even know who Tony Danza is?” The bagger nods and says, “Oh yeah, I’ve watched Charles in Charge before.” Stay with me. This seems mundane, but A LOT is happening here. First off, this teen knows an Elton John song, including the common lyric mishap, from 1972. Then, he mistook Tony Danza for Scott Baio, both actors who hit their prime two decades before he was born. That would be the equivalent of 18-year-old me singing the lyrics—and making a joke about—a bop from 1944 while chatting about TV shows from the 1950s. I just had to google if there was TV in the 1950s. That’s crazy, right? This entire math problem made me feel very much not in the prime of my life. BRB, I’m going to find that sweet old lady. Also, wrong song lyrics are an art form unto themselves.

Good things always happen. Someone on Threads was posting about how they started a note in their phone called “good things always happen to me.” It's like a gratitude practice, but less prescriptive—and maybe more delusional. I’m an optimistic person, but do good things always happen to anyone? I started the same note on my phone this week as kind of joke. It felt a little cheesy. And also, I wondered what I would write down? Turns out the joke is on me. Because after four days of tracking how often good things happen, I can confidently report that it’s more than I thought. Or perhaps my bar is extremely low. Some entries include: I saw a bald eagle, I listened to Rage Against the Machine’s entire song catalog, a kid at the grocery store talked about Tony Danza, my sister called me, I ate a chocolate chip-tahini cookie that was delicious, and I woke up early to run instead of turning my alarm off and going back to sleep. Ring, ring bitches: It’s the Prime of My Life calling. Now, whenever I open the note to add something new, I re-read all the other tiny good things and, goddammit, I feel better. Will it last more than a week? Do today’s teenagers know about Charles in Charge? We will see. In the meantime, tell me the good things that happened to you this week in the comments. I want to know!

Things that don’t make sense

Our healthcare system. I’ve had to find three new primary care physicians in four years because they keep leaving the clinic I go to. After a lot of hoopla trying to make a soonish appointment as “a new patient,” — philosophical question: am I “new” if I already go here? — I found yet another doctor. I made the appointment partly because I was hoping to ask for a follow-up ultrasound to my mammogram (Not to be TMI, but this whole dense breast thing is a pain. IYKYK). Despite the adorable prime-of-life conversation in the waiting room, I found myself getting pre-emptively fired up about the multiple times I’ve tried to advocate for myself over a concern and been dismissed. In some cases, the doctors were right, and the thing I was worried about was nothing. In another memorable case, I was correct about being in labor and delivered a baby two months early. That was a lot. Anyway, I realized that meeting someone with my hackles up wasn’t a great way to start a relationship. So I took a few deep breaths and calmly explained my concerns to this new doctor, who listened, asked follow-up questions, and let me know that we were on the same team. Ultrasound ordered, I got into my car and was surprised to find myself teared up for a minute. Navigating the current healthcare system is a nightmare, and I’m a person with regular needs, nothing huge. Many times, it feels like you’re at odds with the people and organizations you want to help you. I have a deep, deep appreciation for healthcare professionals who can maintain compassion in a broken system—it makes all the difference.

Cheetozard. I was looking to end on a high note when I found this news story about someone paying $87,840 for a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto shaped like the Pokemon character Charizard. Per the report, this treasure was “Presented is a 3-inch long Flamin’ Hot Cheeto in the shape of the Pokémon Charizard, affixed to a customized Pokémon card and encapsulated in a clear card storage box … It was initially discovered and preserved sometime between 2018-2022 by 1st & Goal Collectibles.” First reaction: that seems ridiculous. Second reaction: We all need to be looking hard at our food. Can you imagine how many Cheetos people have eaten that could have been shaped as something and thus worth tens of thousands of dollars?? Stay viligant friends.

This Cheeto is worth the equivalent of a year of college tuition at the country’s most expensive school. (Do both those statements seem crazy?)

Writing things

More than writing work. Things have been quiet on the query front. While I wait, I’m getting my act together on my next book. In a perfect world, I would have the idea—I got one I like right—and start writing, bang it out in a few months, revise it over another few months and boom: second book ready to go. To quote the inimitable Elle Woods: What, like it’s hard? But you know how humans insist on blocking out memories of hard things so that we do them again thinking it wasn’t that bad (see: child birth, marathons, everytime you clean your junk drawer, watching the Titanic movie)? This is that. I keep sitting down to write and realizing that I don’t quite know enough about what I’m writing to write meaningfully. Then I remembered what my stellar book coach Nicole Meier has said multiple times, which is that all the work is work (she probably said it better, but that is the gist). So, I devoted time this week to research and planning. I am a plotter—meaning I like to have a pretty solid outline of my story—and so I am plotting along and still figuring things out, and reminding myself that the planning is still progress.

Image via Giphy

Hold me closer, Tony Danza! As the weekend approaches, I’m hoping the snow melts and that you all have a lot of good things happen to you because they always do. It makes total sense. Don’t forget to drop your good things in the comments.

Thanks for reading,

Kelly