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

                                                              OK
 Aug. 29th 2019

Where to begin? Why begin? What's to be said? I don't know. I just thought since it's been a couple months since I've blogged, sounds like clogged, well something needed to be written. The Labor Day weekend approaches and the holiday spirit collectively builds in the minds of the populace. As I remember the school year didn't begin until after Labor Day, which indicated the end of Summer. But now the kids are already back in the rigmarole of school days. Of course I'm not affected in any way shape or form. I'm an old man and can barely remember youthful times. My days whistle by with little variation and I don't mind. There's an ease to sameness which I now appreciate. Frankly most activities however inviting become an effort. I guess I'm referring to the upcoming holiday season. I really shouldn't go on about my self induced anxiety concerning the prolonged effort from now until the new year. So I won't. But just let me state if I had my druthers, I'd be a solitary curmudgeon.

So what else is new? My brother Casey stopped over the other day, and we had a very comfortable few hours catching up with family matters and sharing annoyances. We delved into our shared history and how our parents divorce affected and changed each of us. We speculated on all the what ifs. Mostly we laughed at even the most traumatic of events, what else could we do? But in old age and having to continue the struggle, the good fight, well sometimes we wish we would have had some money, a formal education, mentors to guide us, aspects which would have helped us navigate the congested and murky waters of life. Regrets sure. We always return to our goof fortune, I mean good fortune. Sometimes we have to search for it. Then we laugh and that's where it starts. Humor is our foundation and what a foundation it is. It is the thread connecting the generations through hard times and celebratory times. My granddaughter tries to make me laugh, and she does to the extreme joy of us both. How much money or education do I need for such a sheer feeling of ecstasy.

Thinking of my granddaughter and the juxtaposition with my sister, her great Aunt, is disconcerting. My sister who knows the healing balm of laughter, also knows the heavy burden of loneliness, of extreme poverty, the despair of no hope, yet she forges on. She has more than tread the fierce rip tides of life, and did it alone. She's old and deserves a respite from all forms of burden. Sadness and struggle unfortunately are human's common legacy. Ain't that funny!

Fog City

Life expectancy, now there's a thought. I just turned 70 and what makes that number significantly different from other ages marked by birthdays, is the national average of the male's life expectancy doesn't extend beyond the 70's. Sobering indeed. Meaning what exactly, well, I won't see my grandchildren graduate high school, or marry. But that's alright. My three sons have accomplished enough to accentuate my existence with meaning and for that I'm at peace. One goal I'm striving to achieve is fifty years of marriage, and that is a joint effort, which pushes the boundary of that life expectancy number. You never know!
I spend time now remembering, comparing experiences, placing significance, and analyzing, applying regret or not, wondering how things might have been different, and do I really care. Second guessing is futile. Then there's perspective, how I view my life from this vantage point, looking back. I cringe at some of my youthful indiscretions. At the time they didn't seem significant, just thoughtless acts of expression, usually misguided. Experiences I hope to share by writing a small memoir, but I hesitate because time dilutes our ego driven self importance, and in the end my life like most all of us, is irrelevant in the grand cosmic chaos.
But getting old has its trials. First it doesn't help to spend much time looking in the mirror, because the person you see and the person you thought you knew can be radically different. The process of aging is so slow, well it does seem to accelerate the older I get, but the ideals, the ethics, the etiquette, the foundation for a persona, were built long ago. As I age and my perspective and tolerances change the foundation remains pretty much intact. Therefore when I'm bombarded by changes from the youth culture, I naturally resist for a time, until I compare my past to their present, and realize it's just the cycle of life. Perspective. Go with the flow, or drown!
The physical aspect of getting old is probably the most difficult aspect to reckon with. Activity use to be a defining characteristic, and to accept the erosion of that definition can be depressing. Playing, working, being extremely mobile become more difficult, even painful. Adapting without prejudice or bitterness, are key to remaining optimistic and hopeful, when all you really want to do is fall down a well of cynicism. Balance. Physical balance and mental balance, daily exercises which provide needed awareness. Walking and reading help.

Still playing at 70!

Thanks Ashby
Oh to be 8 again!

I'm 70, I like to be quiet, and yell. I like to laugh, and cry. I like to listen to my heart strings, and watch the world go by. My grandkids remind me the children are worthy!