Posts by Joan Price
A New Lesson from Birds and Bees
When birds, bats or bugs make a turn, all they have to do is start flapping their wings normally again and they straighten right out. That came as a surprise to researchers who thought turning and stopping took more steps.
I was reading Science of flight takes a bird’s eye view by Randolph E. Schmid from Associated Press and had to stop and reread this part:
…all they have to do is start flapping their wings normally again and they straighten right out.
I read this again, and again. I’ve been more deeply in grief this past week, thanks to an ankle sprain that rules out the usual daily dancing and walking that I count on to keep my emotional life in balance. Without this exercise and the joy it brings, my healing from grief took a nosedive and I find myself mourning Robert’s loss unbearably.
Then I read this article, and I wonder how to flap my wings normally again and straighten out. I’ll work on figuring this out.
How have you recovered from grief, tragedy, or even lesser setbacks by flapping your wings normally again?
Update a few hours later:
A friend encouraged me to get outside on this sunny spring day. I went to a park, hopped around on crutches for a while, then settled on a bench in view of the duck pond to read my Kindle.
Suddenly I realized I had a front-row seat to view a sex orgy: a consensual (I hoped) gang bang of six male ducks and one, apparently very sexy, female.
She took on partners, sometimes two alternating suitors bestowing favors in a threesome. Then she shook herself off and ran a bit, letting the lust-struck lads chase her until she slowed down and let herself be caught. The merry chase continued on the grass, in the water, and on the grass again, one or more males mounting her every couple of minutes .
Finally she backed up against a fence and stood with her tired (I assume) nether regions protected while the fellows returned to the water, rising up and beating their wings in what I took to be bragging.
I went back to my Kindle book, happy that I had ventured out in the sunshine, glad I hadn’t missed the show!
Daily Show’s “Dirty Bird Special” poops on senior sex
About three years ago, I was contacted by a producer of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart about appearing on a segment about the rise in STDs among sexually active seniors. The segment didn’t get produced at that time because they wanted to include sexually active elders, preferably unattractive and smarmy who didn’t use condoms, who were willing to let a camera and interviewer follow them on their how-to-pick-up-a-sex-partner-escapades.
I knew TDS would ridicule these elders and the whole notion of older-age dating and sex, but I wanted to be a part of the show because I thought I could bring some dignity to the topic.
After months of trying to locate their wild elders (who were likely smarter than I was and wouldn’t agree to be ridiculed by The Daily Show), the producer gave up on the segment — or so I thought.
I went on to be interviewed on the topic of unsafe senior sex by ABC Nightline, which did a fabulous, educational, and respectful segment and included a long interview with me, featuring comments from readers on this blog, in fact.
You know what happened last night if you were watching Comedy Central. On April 9, 2009, The Daily Show aired “Dirty Bird Special” about unsafe senior sex and dating, which featured an 82-year-old horndog (“lookin’ for it wherever I can get it”) who doesn’t believe his genital warts are contagious (“warts are my penis”) and hasn’t used a condom in 40 years, although he’s getting more “tail” now than in his youth.
Although part of the segment showed vivacious Miami elders dancing, dating, and having fun, the interviewer — who admitted that thinking of seniors having sex produced “gagging sensations” — was intent on making even social dancing and dating seem seedy, ridiculous, and icky. And I hate to tell you what they did with the segment about safer-sex education at a Jewish community center. You’ll have to view it yourself .
I thank Sue Katz for drawing my attention to this show with her superb blog post about it.
Straight Woman Loves Gay Romance
I was surprised and delighted to find Best Gay Romance 2009, ed. Richard Labonté, Cleis Press , an absolute pleasure to read, and more stimulating to me – a straight woman – than most heterosexual erotica.
Partly it’s the romance aspect – the stories and characters are gentle, sweet, and very sexy – and because the whole book is men, men, men. Each story has at least two sexy, loving men who get aroused and naked together, which for me was delicious, fantasy voyeurism. Each story even offers an interesting plot — not just a rush to the genitals — and non-stereotypical characters. Several are even our age, though most are young. The stories are tender and erotic without being the least bit raw, rough, or sleazy. I lapped it up (so to speak).
As my readers know, I lost my beloved husband last summer. I’ve been sexually hibernating since then (while continuing to think and write about sex, as you know). Believe it or not, Best Gay Romance got my sparks sparking again, at least within the cocoon of fantasy.
I wrote to Richard Labonté, editor of the series, about this, and he wrote back:
I’m so happy to hear that the collection helped get your “juices flowing.” I’m not surprised, though – in my A Different Light days (I helped open this still-extant gay bookstore in Los Angeles in 1979), I sold a lot of gay male romances, especially early Alyson titles (way before the Best Gay Romance days) to straight women. I particularly recall a group of six or so women, age range early 30s to late 40s I’m guessing, who would come into the original ADL store in Los Angeles in the ’80s every two months or so and buy everything new since their last visit, often four or five books each, not always the same titles (I’m sure they also shared). Like you, they appreciated the erotic (but not too erotic) male content.
Read more of my sex and/or aging book reviews and author interviews here.
Valentine’s Day without Robert
My first Valentine’s Day since Robert died seemed to be going unexp
ectedly well — a deep and stimulating phone conversation with a close friend, time alone reading and dancing in my exercise room, dinner out with a dear and delightful woman pal, excitement about feeling my life force emerging strongly.
Then I came home. Alone. Lit a candle. And started to cry.
I remembered Robert lighting a candle in the same candleholder I was using. I saw his dear hand lighting it, the hand that would touch me soon. I heard his soft voice, saw his smile. I wrote in my journal memories of seven years of Valentine’s Days, especially the languid afternoons making love as daylight turned to evening and to night. Finally, even the candle would burn down, flicker, and go out as we held each other and continued to kiss in the dark.
Tears streaming, voice wailing, I put down my journal and picked up a book of poetry, American Primitive by Mary Oliver. A friend, Uta, had given it to me on Robert’s birthday, 4-1/2 months after he died, with this inscription:
Dear Joanie,
She is one of Robert’s favorite contemporary poets.
You are very special to me and when you read in this little book, Robert will be with you. He loves you very much.
I had to put down the book when I read this:
…Now you are dead too, and I, no longer young,
know what a kiss is worth.
(photos by Robert’s son Mitch Rice)