the BIG 7-0
How could the years have gotten away from me so fast? As I enter my penultimate decade--with luck, my ultimate one--I wonder what happened to the fat-faced little Rickey in all my mother's photo albums? The answer: No one does photo albums anymore.
I think of all the things I have done, and that have been done to me, and mostly I cringe. Why do we not remember the good things with the same intensity as the "bad" ones? Why are pleasurable memories less intense than painful ones? Maybe someday I will know all this, as I will know ALL THINGS when I learn "the Secret." Carolyn knows it, as do Grossi and Pappy. For what it costs, it better be worth it.
Will I live to 71? Or even 72? Do you believe in Ulysses?
…. yes and his heart was going like mad
and yes I said yes I will Yes.
A different version is apropos for the Big 70:
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
...
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Lest I sound too morbid, or support a Baker Act charge that I am too maudlin and toying with "the Secret" before it's time, I assure you all that is not the case. Frost was a poet for the common man, a bit simple, actually, but he got it right in this one:
The
woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But
I have promises to keep,
And
miles to go before I sleep,
And
miles to go before I sleep.
People depend on me...so I guess I am here for the duration, sleepless in the metaphorical sense. If I am still compos mentis at 75, I will try to elaborate here on how the Doppler Effect of aging has narrowed the lines by then. Much abides, my friends, so as Dr. Lazarus said, Never give up, never surrender.
Addendum: August 12, 2019. After several days of no longer being in my 60's, I discovered an odd thing. It isn't so bad being 70. I feared the 60th much more than I should have--it was really the 65th I should have worried about--but the lead-in to 70 was much more gradual. So far, so good. I suspect that the degradation of function I observed in the 60's will continue (if not accelerate) in the 70's, but so far I think I am over the hump, worry-wise. Others have told me 70 is the new 50, but I know that is BS; still others (Jane) have insisted that there really isn't any difference in a new year, whether it is 60 or 70. While true in absolute terms--it's just a day more, after all--the psychology of it is different. Having accepted that I am officially "old" at 70, things seem more laid back. But acceptance does not equal surrender! I will keep you posted.
