Getting to Know Me


Me, when I’m cranky, which is most of the time.

I’m Donna, a Baby Boomer. My grandparents were eastern European immigrants, I grew up in Montreal but always wanted to live somewhere else, I married a French Canadian, and we eventually lived in Houston, Texas, for 31 years. I’m a displaced immigrant myself, oddly un-Canadian and faux American. This self-image has given me a unique perspective and countless opinions that I’m compelled to share with anyone who’s interested.

S.C.O.W.Ling is a place where Baby Boomers can be grouchy about anything without suffering the guilt heaped on us by Gen X, Y, and Z. Let’s face it. We got to enjoy being flower children, playing in the streets, disco dancing, and smoking pot before it was legal. In contrast, the alphabet generations spend all their time on social media, work in tiny cubicles at tech companies, live with their parents, and whine about us. In an ironic twist of fate, I’ll use modern technology to bitch about today’s world and culture, feeling quite smug over my personal backlash against modernity.

It’s 2018: Trump is the president, Korea may nuke us, and I don’t look good in hot pants anymore. If you’re being ignored because of a few wrinkles or tired of being considered passé, you’ll be right at home here. Although I’m very shy by nature, I’ve learned that I can be witty and sarcastic, which usually makes people laugh. My good friends seem to find me mildly amusing. Therefore, the only way to deal with life is to criticize everything that irritates us and mock ourselves for our bad attitudes. We of a certain age have to stick together, no matter how dissimilar our tastes or how significant the differences. There are plenty of things we’ll have in common, or disagree on, but we need to persevere so the X’s, Y’s, and Z’s don’t get us!

I liked writing essays and term papers in high school. I know, bizarre! I even began composing haiku back then, very existential. My mother found them and questioned my state of mind; I was a teenager therefore I was fine. I wrote for the college newspaper and was good at it. I decided to go to journalism school but my dad pointed out I was too shy to ask someone how they felt about their house burning down (he was right). It was a long time before I got a job as editor and writer for an AIDS newsletter. I loved that job – writing, traveling. Sadly, it ended (long story). It wasn’t until later that I went back to writing about places visited, sights seen. I’ve even started writing a murder mystery: my former boss gets murdered and I’m the lead suspect (another long story). I’m retired, bored, and have too much time on my hands. And that’s how this blog came to be.

I’ve chased different professions in diverse settings. I was a retail manager; an AIDS educator for drug addicts and healthcare professionals; a research assistant interviewing alcoholic women in jail; and a public health researcher on homelessness, diabetes in veterans, and cancer in underserved populations. All of this has led to interesting experiences and relationships, and a thought-provoking multicultural perspective on life and all its weirdness. So here I am, a much-maligned Boomer who’s disappointed in 21st century society. Because family and friends are tired of listening to me bitch about everything, I will use this blog to rant at will and compare notes with like-minded people. CRAZY RANTS posts will cover anything that drives me crazy (obviously). BECOMING CANADIAN (AGAIN) posts will be about my trials and tribulations repatriating to Toronto. If you feel the same way, follow me on or drop me a line and we can chat. I’ll be here, complaining my way through life.

Me, when I’m not cranky, which isn’t very often