I grew up with Donald Duck, but I learned a few things along the way

Donald Duck and I were born in the same year. I’m just a little older, so I learned to talk sooner than he did and my wardrobe was definitely classier.

I didn’t see Donald Duck in action until years later. There was no movie house in Warland, Montana. There was no electricity, for that matter. But the Seattle Post Intelligencer came in on the train every Saturday night, and Edna Norris, the station master’s wife, kindly passed the paper on to us after she’d cut the recipes out. I was about 8 before I found out that newspaper pages don’t come with big holes in them. We read about the movies and I cut out pictures of the stars, including Donald Duck, to paste on our bare walls.

When Donald and I were about 5, my Mom and I took the train into Libby to see the brand new exciting movie “Snow White.” It was ghastly. The witch was far scarier than the one in “The Wizard of Oz.” The poisoned fruit the queen gave Snow White put me off apples for years.

But on the same bill, Donald Duck appeared in a short feature in which he was trying to cook a penguin. It was my first time to see him in a movie. The penguin was much cuter than he was.

You know the rest of the story. Donald Duck has been much more successful than I’ll ever be. He has his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. He had a great college career as the mascot of the University of Oregon. He’s starred in over 190 films, more than any other Disney character.

Still, he and I are at the end of our eighth decade. If we’re going to do anything important, we should get at it. As I write this, tomorrow is my birthday. I’ll be 89 years old. Life has turned out to be much more complicated than I expected.

My granddaughter asked about my favorite childhood Christmas gift. When I was in junior high, I was surprised with a small, slim, green Olivetti typewriter. By that time, Donald Duck had finished his wartime career of making propaganda films. His short film, “Donald’s Birthday Party,” was in theaters and I was editor of the school newspaper.

I love telling the grandchildren and great grands about my world. I tell them about department stores where there were no cash registers but money from purchases flew across the store on cables. They pretty much don’t believe me, but It gives me a chance to learn about them and what they think. College is definitely not a major goal as it was for my generation.

We spend a lot of time trying to understand the younger generation. They help out by supplying words we should be using, things we should be saying to and about them. Sometimes, it’s more than time travelers like us can deal with.

Last week a trans friend sent me an article from a national magazine showing a big burly guy nursing a baby from frontal appendages that would have caused Mae West to go home in despair. With the image came the advice that the correct words we should be using now were not breast feeding, but chest feeding.

In trying to understand our beloved younger generations, we often feel discounted and as if there’s no recognition that those of us who are over 60 have done a few things and we know some stuff. So I’ve started a new project. It’s called “I’m Dying to Tell You.” We hope to provide an opportunity for passing on perfectly good advice that’s been lying around unused for decades.

The project launched last week at the Puyallup Activity Center. We look for wide involvement from senior communities, and we’ve had some very encouraging response. “My grandmother was very wise,” one millennial said. “I’d love to have advice like hers.” (Find information at the end of this column about the project, not the millennial.)

Science fiction writer Robert Heinlein, who often gets credit for creating the space discovery blueprints my generation followed, said, “Always listen to experts. They’ll tell you what can’t be done, and why. Then do it.”

Each of us is an expert on something. The unexpected thing about aging is that you’re in danger of become invisible. We’re just not there anymore. Clerks just can’t see you in stores. They’re pretty good at the YMCA though. Definitely, the time has come to cool down a little and share ideas.

Donald Duck? Oh, he’s slowed down a bit, and I can’t tell that he’s learned much over the years. Maybe he could use a bit of good advice.

Where to find Dorothy in January

Catch Dorothy’s podcast, Swimming Upstream Radio Show, each Monday and then they are available permanently online.

Jan. 2: Red Letter Days with Dr. Patt Schwab.

Jan. 9: Misunderstanding Words with Ray Miller Still

Jan. 16: Legendary Black Heroes with Diedri Dixon (Lady D)

Jan. 23: I’m Dying to Tell You! If you have a group that would like to be involved in this advice-from-seniors project, contact Dorothy at 800-548-9264 or Dorothy@swimmingupstreamradioshow.com

This story was originally published January 1, 2023 at 4:55 AM.