These days when I read the morning paper--yes I still do that--I tend to linger on what my pal, the Skipper, refers to as "the Irish sports pages". I'm not sure when the obituaries became a must-read for me, perhaps it was when I began to see the birth dates of the latest souls to shuffle off this big blue marble zeroing in on years closer to my own. Even though I most often don't know and have never met the subjects of the latest obituary notices, I now find myself shaking my head and muttering "too soon" while reading an exit peon to some soul in his late '80s. This from a guy who used to proclaim, "If I live past 65 it means I didn't have enough fun!" You'd think that after years of losing friends, relatives and, worst of all, a wife, that I'd at least be slightly more in touch with the reality of my own mortality. Maybe it's a defense mechanism we have that keeps us believing we're still young and vibrant lest the hounds of dread and insanity render us crippled by paralyzing fear. Well, that's my theory anyway. Otherwise, why am I constantly mistaking my own reflection in mirrors and shop windows for "some old guy"? You do it too, admit it. Just yesterday when returning to the eye doctor for a check-up on my previous day's cataract surgery, (How can I be old enough for that?!) I momentarily thought there was another person in the examination room. All I could see was a shock of white hair in the mirror and turned to look behind me wondering who it was only to find I was all alone. Fooled again!
This morning, because the sky threatened rain, I thought it wise to leave early on my daily long walk, doctor prescribed to stave off the emerging old man I am destined to become. I was about halfway into my ten-thousand steps when, as I rounded a corner, I stumbled on a young couple in the midst of one of life's benchmark milestones. A young guy was on his knee proposing marriage to an obviously smiling and happy young woman. He had the ring out and she looked surprised. I was embarrassed to have intruded on what was hopefully a once in a lifetime moment and hurriedly mumbled my apologies as I hastened on my walk. No sooner had I moved on than I wanted to return to offer advice. I longed to lob every trite cliche I'd ever heard at them. Never take each other for granted, look out for each other, don't go to bed mad and all the rest of the essentials nobody young and in love ever really pays attention to before realizing the huge and serious commitment they've signed up for. I reflected again on how the choice of a mate can make all the difference in life and decided that I was lucky indeed in that department. Life is all about continuing education and, just about the time we start to get the important things figured out, we get our discharge papers.
It's afternoon now and time to work in another walk before dark and the storm so close I can now almost smell it. I'll take an umbrella but I don't really care. As someone once said, "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning how to dance in the rain."
This morning, because the sky threatened rain, I thought it wise to leave early on my daily long walk, doctor prescribed to stave off the emerging old man I am destined to become. I was about halfway into my ten-thousand steps when, as I rounded a corner, I stumbled on a young couple in the midst of one of life's benchmark milestones. A young guy was on his knee proposing marriage to an obviously smiling and happy young woman. He had the ring out and she looked surprised. I was embarrassed to have intruded on what was hopefully a once in a lifetime moment and hurriedly mumbled my apologies as I hastened on my walk. No sooner had I moved on than I wanted to return to offer advice. I longed to lob every trite cliche I'd ever heard at them. Never take each other for granted, look out for each other, don't go to bed mad and all the rest of the essentials nobody young and in love ever really pays attention to before realizing the huge and serious commitment they've signed up for. I reflected again on how the choice of a mate can make all the difference in life and decided that I was lucky indeed in that department. Life is all about continuing education and, just about the time we start to get the important things figured out, we get our discharge papers.
It's afternoon now and time to work in another walk before dark and the storm so close I can now almost smell it. I'll take an umbrella but I don't really care. As someone once said, "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning how to dance in the rain."
 |
| Do these glasses make my cataracts look fat? What time is the Ray Charles look-a-like contest? |
Well, I tried to comment once, but it didn't survive my lack of knowledge. It has been awhile since I visited FB, preferring instead to avoid the ads and comments about what people had for dinner. Having just read your blog, I realize that there was indeed something of value that I was missing. I should have known. Ill be back, if only for your weekly comments. Mike Swanson
ReplyDeleteThat was me in the mirror’s reflection. Ahh, Mr. Copper, I can always count on your weekly musings for sage advice. Enjoy the new cataract lense. As my eye doctor pointed out after both of mine, “it’s as if your eyes are as new as a freshly slapped ass of a baby’s bottom.” Stay thirsty my friend.
ReplyDeleteExcellent, Sir! Take care of that eye!
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this piece on obits - I too read the obituary page. You can learn a lot about people that way. Sadly, I lost a patient very early in my healthcare career. It wasn’t until I read her obituary that I learned of her many accomplishments. Although I was only with my patients one or two hours, I tried to learn as much about them as I could after that. Years later in a presentation to my peers I asked them each to write their own obituary for when they died at a much later age. In essence I was asking them to set their life goals. I’ll continue reading your blog!
ReplyDelete