Fog City

Today is another unremarkable day. I did feel the need to post something, anything on my blog. I guess I should start with what's happening with the Covid 19 pandemic. Now that the radical trump administration has been more or less deleted, the government under Biden's guidance can get busy. Nearly two thirds of the adult population has been vaccinated and the production and distribution is moving forward. Reported cases continue to drop as well as deaths and hospitals can breathe a bit easier. Certain restrictions have been lifted and businesses are starting to open. People can gather in ever larger groups, like sporting events, and masks are less mandatory. All in all people are still cautious but less fearful, as a sense of normalcy creeps slowly back. The country is still unalterably divided though and the fabric of America is torn. The future is one big bold question mark. I choose the here and now.

Maybe I'll just complain about every little thing like most old codgers. Those complaints center around the inevitable deterioration of the body, which keeps me definitely in the now. Different levels of pain are evenly spread throughout most joints and muscles. Any movement takes focus because you never know how the body will react or not act. I was trying to carry heavy grocery bags up the stairs. First I lifted one to make sure my back could do the job. Then I put one in each hand and lifted insuring my biceps and elbow joints were up to the task. All this before taking a step. The climb up the stairs is the real test. Now that the upper body seems able, the first step up will indicate how competent the lower half is. The aching hip, knee and atrophying thigh muscle all cry out, stop! Fortunately they push the weight upward, but one bag is heavier and the process begins to tilt, and I stop to regain balance and catch my breath. Focus. Up I go finally getting to the kitchen and start unpacking. I used to take all these body movements for granted. Now each action is calculated. This focused calculation keeps me cemented in the now. Sometimes I stay still avoiding action and pain, which also keeps me in the now. Oh well, cliché..."nobody said it would be easy," 

Thinking on...my son springs to mind. He's experiencing aging and has been struggling and learning about the now. And I'm happy to report his dedication and focus are exemplary. Happiness is elusive and illusionary when searching afar. But when you realize playing with and teaching your son in the very now, you begin to understand happiness. Which I think he has. When I see the laughter and interaction displayed when they are together my heart soars. His now is my now! Love...

Rowan, Reina, and Ramsey! 

 

Fog City

                               Date: February 23, 2020
Sunday is under way and before I take a walk and settle in to watch some golf, I want to post a letter I wrote to an old and dear friend. I don't utilize this blog site as much as I'd like, and this is an alternate way.

Sir Tom,
Yeah, old age is definitely a condition we have to adjust to. It's tricky though. For me it's mostly mental. I spend a lot of time weighing the pros and cons, and balancing notions and influences. On one hand senior reports from groups like AARP, local Y's, community centers, all profess social interaction is the panacea. On the other hand ancient prophets and poets remind us solitude and practicing being still, calms the restless soul. I'm inclined to the latter and thoroughly enjoy my aloneness. But when out in public, whether golfing with friends or lawn bowling, I do enjoy the physical aspect and the casual banter. My problem with being social is I see the world as it really is, a hypocritical quagmire of greed and oppression. So engaging in small talk always seems inadequate.
Then I fight to balance the pessimism with some hope. Like this morning I decided to attend Mass with Christine attempting to rekindle an innocent faith in a myth espousing charity and compassion. Long before I became calloused to the machinations of the real world, when I was young altar boy, I glowed in happy hope. A sensation I can barely urge to the surface, a memory long blurred by time. But all of this is part of daily life and I waft in and around all of it constantly.
I just finished a remarkable book, "The Stones of Summer," by Dow Mossman. He grew up in CR and It's an abstract depiction of his youthful right of passage. He graduated from the Writers Workshop at Iowa and his book was highly acclaims when it was published in '72. Then he dropped off the face of the earth. But the book has resurfaced and I was fortunate to have been made aware. This is where solitude comes in and spending long periods alone, but not alone. Wandering through the universe of another's mind and finding the similarities and relating totally.
Well buddy, I'm well physically. Just had a physical and all vitals are normal. My liver seems to have rebounded somewhat and all my blood tests are in the proper range. I get 6 to 10 thousand steps in most days, weather permitting. For a guy our age I'm hanging in there. Attitude and tolerance are things to focus on. I have to remember or be conscious of, in a fast paced, youth oriented society, that I'm virtually invisible. All my significant influences and influencers, are unknown and meaningless to the young, especially my grandkids. So being in the now, when I'm with the young, makes me feel like I'm in a lifeboat floating alone far from anything. And all that I know and all that I experienced has disappeared and I wonder why I cling to it. Ah the challenge!

My boys are busy with their lives and doing splendidly, and when I'm with them I try to infuse my introspection, just to see if anyone is listening. Even though we know in the end it doesn't matter!

Peace brother!

I voted for Bernie... fuck Trump and the oligarchy....

Fog City

2020 looks impressive. It certainly has a fluidity as a time marker. I do have a bit of a problem fixing myself now, in this time. Speaking the number and visualizing my past, in the broader historical picture, confounds. What the number really implies is I'm as old as the hills. When I'm out and about in polite society, of which there is very little, I realize begrudgingly, a good many were only born in this century. Century, another time concept to ponder. But what am I talking about. Time. The difficulty is relevance. Youth of this century, with accelerated changes, and narrow focus, can't and don't relate to the links of the past. Here is where I question my relevance. Only because the experiences of my long life journey, applied in a historical context, were significantly influenced by monumental events. Monumental to me. Here's the rub, and I'm sure it's common to all, those events which marked my time so profoundly, are meaningless to most of today's youth. Where does that leave me? I try to keep pace. But as my role in life's drama continues to diminish, and I'm relegated to staring and comparing, I continue to redefine my relevance in time. I'm not complaining mind you, I'm just feeling self-conscious about the obvious changes to grapple with while growing older. So 2020 comes into view not so much with my touchstones, but with those of my offspring. I'm grateful. 

Happy New Year!

Fog City

I'm sure I have something to say, why else would I be sitting here typing. My problem is justifying writing at all. I look in the night sky and can't help being overwhelmed by infinity and the relation to the utter smallness of my thoughts. My time, our time, this time, passes so rapidly, sometimes I don't see the point in expressing thoughts, worthy thoughts, thoughts of past experiences, or even thinking at all. There's a futility in trying to find meaning. I find more meaning in futility. But then the human aspect emerges. We have to live together. So we better find some meaning in our common condition. You would think that would be a simple matter, like caring and sharing. Life is more complicated and there are so many factors in the human condition. Here is where I diverge because I get weighed down trying to balance our innate goodness with our obvious evil. Personally I find the scales tilted in favor of evil, visible in our constant greed, oppression and utter corruption. What then?

I turn to the children, specifically my grandkids. When the definition of love gets muddled on life's journey, for me it's rekindled in the moon light in their eyes, the sunshine in their smiles, the spring in their step, the gladness in their understanding, the realness of their hug. Their souls are free, but for how long? Right now I just wallow in their innocence and joy. When I'm with the little ones I'm transported, and thankfully so. At my age, remembering is a challenge, their antics, their laughter, their questions, all jog my memory. I can relive similar experiences, and smile in wonder at the human condition before.....

Bless the children!