AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) never was a perfect fit for me. I was retired only one year, and have been in my post-retirement job since 2001. When their magazine, Mature Years, first came out, it was all about how to choose the best cruise line or the retirement village with the most amenities. I was raising a  young son, not really in a position to take advantage of either of those suggestions. I don’t remember seeing any articles about Grandparents as Parents.

Now, since 2002, Mature Years is AARP The Magazine. I visit their website and glance at the mag for their Movies for Grownups suggestions, but that’s about it. For the most part I am completely out of the demographic that is their target market. When did that happen?

The last issue was about being wary when choosing a dating partner off the internet. Nuff said. It was a sad story about a man who bilked a woman out of $300,000 before she caught on.

This month, the feature article, title on the cover right under the masthead: “Best. Sex. Ever. Even in your 70s – We show you how.”

Oh my.

Also listed was bargain travel, of course, and a piece titled “9 Mysteries of your Body Explained.”  Now this was meant for us older folks, I assume. The mysteries included, “Why I have the sweats,” “What happened to my toenails,” “Where did these spots come from?” “Why are my feet so fragrant?” “Is my nose getting bigger?” and four more too gross or graphic to mention here.

And guess what. Shania Twain is the big 5-0. Shania Twain!

Yes, AARP The Magazine is for the younger generation. That’s for sure.

Jerry Seinfeld is quoted as saying, “Political Correctness is ruining comedy.”

And he may be right. It seems no one can take a joke any more. Someone will be offended. Even if it’s none of their business.

If someone tells a joke about an old, fat, Methodist, moderate, forgetful, woman — and I don’t get angry — there are plenty of folks out there who will tell me I should. They will take up my cause for me, set social media on fire, and strive to ruin the speaker’s life. When all along I may have thought it was kinda funny.

There are many tender spots we can no longer joke about. Except Christians, of course. It’s pretty safe to make jokes about Christians — even cruel jabs in such bad taste one wouldn’t dare to make a similar utterance about any other religious group. But Christians must turn the other cheek. We rarely defend ourselves from jokes and for sure no one else is coming to our defense.

So, from The Lighter Side of Theology, I will reprint (with a bit of tweaking) this observance of how different Christian groups change light bulbs.

Charismatic: Only 1. Their hands are already in the air.

Presbyterian: None. Lights will go on and off at predestined times.

Roman Catholic: None. Candles only.

Baptists: At least 10. One to change the bulb and 9 to resist the change.

Mormons: 5. One man to change the bulb, and 4 wives to tell him how to do it.

Unitarians: We choose not to make a statement either in favor of or against the need for a light bulb. However, if in your own journey you have found that light bulbs work for you, you are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your light bulb for the next Sunday service.

Lutherans: None. Lutherans don’t believe in change.

Mennonites: We don’t know for sure but we have 50 volunteers ready to roll.

United Methodists: A matter as simple as changing a light bulb does not need to go before the Charge Conference for approval. After the Trustees have given the okay to change the bulb and the Finance Committee has approved the purchase of the bulb, the Church Council may adopt a policy on the changing of light bulbs. This will happen with all due expediency, unless somewhere in the process a new pastor is appointed to this congregation. If this occurs, we need to start over and let the new pastor give input on any changes that are planned.

Amish: What’s a light bulb?

I hated that question when I was a kid. Every first-day-of-school, grades 4-8, the assignment was “write an essay on how you spent your summer vacation.”

My dad worked retail, six days a week, before the era of paid vacation leave. What I did on my summer break was work in the garden (when I couldn’t wiggle out of it), spend a week with my grandparents (with my big sister along to make sure I behaved), Vacation Bible School for two weeks, and, occasionally, a movie. Many lazy days, playtime under the big shade tree, and sitting with Mother listening to her soap operas.

I never saw any of that as fodder for an essay. It did not compare to, say, my friend’s trip to Dallas Fair Park and Aquarium.

But, all that is in the past. This summer I have had three wonderful vacations already and it’s still 5 more weeks till Labor Day.

In June I joined with my youngest daughter’s family to celebrate her 60th birthday! She told her husband, “No surprise party,” but he couldn’t resist. I was a surprise. It was a delightful weekend with the Quade family when I was able to meet my newest great grand, Caleb Lucas, and read stories to his big brother, Noah.

A scant month later even more of us got together in Oklahoma for our annual family ‘union’ with all my kids, grands, and great-grands who were able to come. Some were missing because of sickness or work, but we had another great family time including a hilarious game of Trivial Pursuit.

Last weekend, I took heart in mouth and climbed aboard an airplane to Baltimore to visit my youngest son, Phillip, who I had not seen since Christmas. Such a good time.

I had never been to Maryland and I thoroughly enjoyed being chauffeured around to see the Harbor, historic neighborhoods, and the scenic drive to Annapolis. We didn’t tour the Naval Academy, as we had planned, but drove across the Severn River that runs into Chesapeake Bay. Though the natives complained about the heat (85 degrees), I loved the breeze off the bay as we walked the path down to the water’s edge. (There has been no breeze in Arkansas since tornado season.)

After a quick brunch with grandson Aaron who drove up from D.C. and a satisfying day sight-seeing, Phillip and I engaged in our favorite joint activity: binge-watching sitcom reruns.

Sunday noon, and time to return home. Just a little weepy at leaving him, I checked in, found my gate, and boarded my flight home. Even though I had to sit in a middle seat, I chose a place next to a nice-looking young man dressed in a Southwest Airlines uniform. (FYI, he had opted for a seat over the wing. Good for him, good for me.)

As I fastened my seat belt, the announcement came over the speaker: “We will be in Dallas in 2 1/2 hours.” I said, “What? Did she say Dallas?” The nice young man answered that was indeed what she said. I explained that I was going to Little Rock … they took my boarding pass and everything.

The off-duty pilot then told me that this was a ‘direct’ flight, not to be confused with a ‘non-stop’ flight. (I’m not making this up.) ‘Non-stop’ means you fly from city to city without stopping. ‘Direct’ means you fly from city to city without getting off the plane, though you may indeed stop to let some passengers off and take more on.

I didn’t argue with him, glad to know that eventually I would land in Little Rock without any effort on my part, though Baltimore to Little Rock via Dallas doesn’t really seem direct. And instead of experiencing take-off twice on this trip, it was three times.

And that’s what I did on my summer vacation. If I just had a chance to write about it.

Oh, wait. I just did.

The picture at the top of this post shows the Severn River with the Naval Academy and Maryland’s Capital dome in the background.