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OK, so I’m not 74 yet, try me 4/26/12 and I will be. But close enough. When I reached 40, some friends of mine showed up at my place that night complete with a coffin. We had a great time. They’re all dead now. And that’s one of the facts of living this long, most of one’s friends are dead or long out of touch, maybe both. There is a sense for me of a quite sadness, as well as dissociation from some of the passions that afflict younger people; not that they’re bad or wrong, they arguably enliven one’s life, but no longer mine. To be clear, I am not whining nor complaining or seeking some sympathy. Just reflecting.
I have no close friends, they’re all dead. The closest non-judgmental relationship I have is with a 17-lb dog, the last of some 18 or so great critters. I’ve accomplished in those 70 plus years some reasonably decent gains; wrote one book, poorly, but had it published; earned some academic degrees which at the time were important, now mean little; had some challenging job positions, enjoyed some of them. Married three women, two of whom were/are worth some respect and affections, the middle one was more invested in status than class, as represented by income and jewelry. Encountered some very interesting people, some of whom occupy a lot of my dreams even now. Was in love with three women, none of whom I married; one died at the age of 19, one disengaged after she found she was not pregnant by me; and the third I left to my everlasting regret when my first wife from whom I was separated was impregnated by someone else, and I came back in order to provide a name and parentage for the child. I still have a relationship with that boy and his mother. I’m still haunted by the probable delusion that that woman I left would’ve been a real “soul mate,” but who knows? All of that is of no matter besides a soap opera, it does matter to me as memories that constitute, in part, what I think I am now.
Life for me now Is a day to day event, often boring, that increasingly reflects decrements in physical and maybe mental functioning, but that is not painted by any bitterness. The high point for me is accessing what has come in by email, most often from PR, and what new books Amazon offers for the Kindle. And that 17-lb dog’s needs. We’ve (my 3rd wife and I) have had three cruises , all enjoyable, no more intended. We’re economically sufficient, some could say affluent, but likely enough to allow us to live absent the stress of bill collectors.
Great insights? No. A fleeting sense of some wisdom, yes. My father lived to 92, but the last few years of his life, by his statements and my inferences, “sucked.” But, hey, being alive does become a habit. I’ve no desire to live any longer, but no desire to die soon either, the transition being usually unpleasant. If you’re looking for some brilliant insights or conclusions, wrong. A few honest comments, right. Greatest regret, not pursuing that relationship I left to provide a parentage for my first wife’s child by someone else.
Enough of this narcissistic musing. No apologies. All of you have regrets. I’ll be off-line for a week or so, if not more. On a tour bus to Washington, D.C for 10 days.
You know Dennis, I enjoy listening to you share what you might see as ramblings, but what many of us see as the voice of experience.
I often wonder how things would have gone if I had been less gullible at times, or if I had taken a different fork in the road, I suppose it’s in our nature to explore the “what ifs”.
Lets hope you enjoy your trip to D.C. and come home safe and sound.
Enjoy DC, Dennis. I’m getting to the time of life where looking back occupies more time that looking forward as well. All I hope is that I’ll be able to look back at the life arising from my decisions and, as in Genesis, be able to see that it was good.
God forbid I ever get old like Dennis Campbell, but I’ve found that if I stay stocked up on things to do, and have things to look forward to—short-term or long—I seldom give my age a thought. If I keel over tomorrow, I’d have no complaints. It’s been an excellent ride.
I’ve traveled and seen a lot of the world, done a lot of things. I’ve loved and been loved. Etc
Stay busy, that’s been my ticket since retirement. Oh…and healthy. Stay healthy. I’ve some minor aches and pains, but nothing a few ibuprofen from time to time can’t handle. I’m a lucky man.
I’ve still got my eyes and my hands don’t shake, so I can shoot pool and build models in my shop. I’ve got some strength left—I garden (crocuses are up!), cut my own grass and clear the snow from my deck—although I hire someone to plow the fire road. I’m digging the footing for a new shed to house my kayak (from which I’ll slay all the fish in Tucker’s Pond over the course of the summer) and lawn equipment. I’m on call to do volunteer maintenence at the local ofo’s home.
I run a pet pantry…we gather donated pet food for distribution to pofos who have trouble feeding their furkids…which keeps me humble. And I follow politics closely—which keeps me intertained.
I used to spend a lot more time with on-line forums than I do these days—the debate is repetitive—but I still check in on some every day and read what I can.
And while they’re getting fewer, and it’s always a great sadness when another one goes, I still have some friends and relatives left with whom I can share experiences from the old days if I want to do that…and we stay in touch. (tip: cultivate friendships with younger people)
So far, so good. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.
Oh…enjoy Washington. I hope there are some cherry blossoms left for you to see.
“Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.”
God forbid I ever get old like Dennis Campbell, but I’ve found that if I stay stocked up on things to do, and have things to look forward to—short-term or long—I seldom give my age a thought. If I keel over tomorrow, I’d have no complaints. It’s been an excellent ride.
I’ve traveled and seen a lot of the world, done a lot of things. I’ve loved and been loved. Etc
Stay busy, that’s been my ticket since retirement. Oh…and healthy. Stay healthy. I’ve some minor aches and pains, but nothing a few ibuprofen from time to time can’t handle. I’m a lucky man.
I’ve still got my eyes and my hands don’t shake, so I can shoot pool and build models in my shop. I’ve got some strength left—I garden (crocuses are up!), cut my own grass and clear the snow from my deck—although I hire someone to plow the fire road. I’m digging the footing for a new shed to house my kayak (from which I’ll slay all the fish in Tucker’s Pond over the course of the summer) and lawn equipment. I’m on call to do volunteer maintenence at the local ofo’s home.
I run a pet pantry…we gather donated pet food for distribution to pofos who have trouble feeding their furkids…which keeps me humble. And I follow politics closely—which keeps me intertained.
I used to spend a lot more time with on-line forums than I do these days—the debate is repetitive—but I still check in on some every day and read what I can.
And while they’re getting fewer, and it’s always a great sadness when another one goes, I still have some friends and relatives left with whom I can share experiences from the old days if I want to do that…and we stay in touch. (tip: cultivate friendships with younger people)
So far, so good. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.
Oh…enjoy Washington. I hope there are some cherry blossoms left for you to see.
Nice post, too, Andrew. Country life sounds great. Staying busy is a good tip. Your life sounds… well, nice? It sounds like the sort of life I hope to start leading soon. Once I can extricate myself from Sydney. That block of land in Tasmania is still waiting for me. I should be there by the end of this year. Cutting ties and burning bridges is sort of scary but exiting too.
Enjoy the spring. Be careful in that canoe. Catch a big one.
Andrew: I’ve still got my eyes and my hands don’t shake, so I can shoot pool and build models in my shop. I’ve got some strength left—I garden (crocuses are up!), cut my own grass and clear the snow from my deck—although I hire someone to plow the fire road. I’m digging the footing for a new shed to house my kayak (from which I’ll slay all the fish in Tucker’s Pond over the course of the summer) and lawn equipment. I’m on call to do volunteer maintenence at the local ofo’s home.
Because of Facebook, many people have contacted me from my youth. I’ve met three old boyfriends, one of whom broke my heart. I sniveled about it for years afterwards. Anyway, it was strange when I met these guys in person again. They had changed, but had not-changed. The one who abandoned me to lie between the thighs of another woman who was a silly twit (yes…..he left me for a twit’s twat) turned out to a pleasant sort of fellow, but quite different from the golden-haired “writer” who I so adored.
Anyway, the interesting part is that I still have romantic dreams about the love of my youth, even though I’m not sure if he even existed. He has become a symbol of eroticism. He has also sent me some stories he wrote about me and it is quite obvious that he didn’t have a clue as to what my subjective self was like.
But then I understood. The last time we got together, I had a sort of “steppenwolf” (the book, not the group) experience with him. As we sat across from each other, sipping our wine, I saw him from a kaleidoscopic point of view. His mother’s son, his kid’s father, my youthful lover, a disappointed advertising exec, an idealistic Buddhist who chanted “big mind” when he jogged, and the exhilarated guy who exclaimed “Heidegger was a gravedigger!” on one of our shared acid trips.. He is none of these things and all of these things….a complex meld of varying narratives.
Anyway, the whole experience was very intense and lasted for about 3 minutes. Maybe he slipped something into my wine?
God forbid I ever get old like Dennis Campbell, but I’ve found that if I stay stocked up on things to do, and have things to look forward to—short-term or long—I seldom give my age a thought. If I keel over tomorrow, I’d have no complaints. It’s been an excellent ride.
I’m pretty “monkish” and physical (working out—sweating and feeling the heart pounding, lungs cycling a lot of air, the muscles straining and relaxing—is a sensually enjoyable routine), and I’ve always had a talent for finding good friends who form whole communities (probably just part of being a hairless bi-pedal ape, really). Anyway, hopefully that’ll both extend my life and make it more enjoyable (I also have good longevity genes, presuming it’s true you get that mostly from your mother’s side of the family—I do pretty well on that count either way though). So far I have no complaints ... other than those damn kids always getting on my lawn! Just kidding ... don’t even have a lawn, just trees and shrubs and forest-type shite, and the nearest neighbors are a few hundred feet or so down the road.
Dennis (if you haven’t left yet, or you haven’t ignored me today), make sure you visit the Franciscan Monastery in D.C. It’s an amazingly peaceful place with beautiful gardens and European architecture. Tell the friars there that you know Brother Mario. They may give you a tour of the really cool places not seen by the public.
Leaving in 30 minutes. Thanks for the posts. At least one plus is that one does not have to worry about the future, and less so every day, as there’s less of it. The present and perhaps increasingly, the past occupies some attention. Looking back, the various jobs diminish in importance, some relationships increase, especially those that did not develop fully. Like Sara, did do some exploring re what are they like now; not a good idea.
