Word: lamentingly
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Daniel Okrent's operatic lament "Twilight of the Baby Boomers" [LIVING, June 12] struck us as far too pessimistic. Amid all those grim statistics, fear and loathing and laments over a future of Metamucil bingeing, Okrent left out one significant factor: baby-boomer women in their 40s and 50s say, in study after study, that they have never felt more self-confident or been happier. Women of this generation, who have redefined so much, are redefining middle age and exulting in the options and opportunities they now have. Sorry, but they are not miserable. And, yes, they remember...
...Clarke boots up a computer in a house he shares with two flatmates in a gritty London neighborhood, across the street from Brixton Prison. With a few quick keystrokes, he downloads a free copy of Britney Spears' new single, Oops!...I Did It Again. As Britney's sugary lament fills his dorm-style bedroom, bouncing off the unmade bed and the laundry bag on the door, Clarke insists he feels no pangs of conscience. "Copyright is a crutch," he says. "It's inherent in nature that information wants to be free...
...watch leather-lunged TV megachef Emeril Lagasse, you've probably heard him lament the limitations of his medium: "Oooh! I can't wait till we get Smell-o-Vision so you can smell this at home...
Such anguish has grown palpable. FORTUNE magazine's career-advice columnist, Anne Fisher, calls the angst pouring in from her boomer readers "a continuing lament," and there's evidence that it will soon become operatic. From the mailbox of Fisher's website, askannie.com "I'm learning that being over 40 is not only an obstacle, it's more like a brick wall," writes someone who signs himself "Not Dead Yet." Bob C. thinks "younger bosses see...older [workers] as a menace." Edward, the realist, writes, "Many of us over 40 have failed to constantly update our skill sets...
What has impressed me more than the mechanics of leaving, however, has been the reality of being here. After a full year back at Harvard, it feels in many ways like I had never left, and I mean that as a lament. The first moment back on campus, I felt a lingering feeling that something somewhere was due--a lurking dread, a ghost in the system. At the end of two semesters back, my hands ache, my days are filled with errands and I look with wan sadness at sunny days as I sit editing a paper. It was like...