AGING GRACEFULLY JUST NOT IN THE CARDS

You wake up one morning and something is missing, and it takes you a while to figure out what's gone.  You still have demands, obligations, duties to perform, but for some reason they just don't seem all that important anymore.  You don't really look forward to anything; you're just passing time. Yeah, time, the thing you're running out of.  That alone should put anyone into panic mode - the thought that before long you'll be gone.  The big problem isn't that the end is just around the corner; it's a matter of what to do with what time you have left . . . or think you have left . . . and there's no way of knowing when or how it ends for you.  It almost seems like a waste of time to do anything at all, and that's what old age is all about - dealing with short time.

But regardless of how short time might be, it's still here, and you've still got things to do, or should do.  My closest friend died about 15 years ago, and shortly thereafter his wife said, "I'm so disappointed for him because he had such big plans.  He wanted to write more, go places, be involved in things, and all that got cut short."  My response to her was a simple question:  "Would you have wanted him to die doing nothing, just sitting and waiting on an end to it all?"  Those words come back to haunt me now.  I was with him just hours before he passed, knew he was in desperate shape, and I let him send me away.  I had been pleading with him to return to the hospital, see if they couldn't do something for him . . . but he was resolute about not going back.  I know now that he didn't want help, that he'd had all he wanted and was ready for the end.

I'm now a good dozen years older than he was when his life ended, just short of being the same age my father was when he died.  Neither of those men waited it out, didn't stop doing things because they're bodies were shutting down.  They knew time was short, but they kept going, kept making plans and looking forward to something.  I've stopped writing, have book projects going but can't find the inspiration or determination to finish them, and I don't work on much of anything else anymore.  I have chores to attend to because I'm a caretaker for quite a few small animals, dogs and cats mostly.  I've got those daily chores to run, bills to pay, upkeep of property to see about, and so I'm not idle.  But I know what's missing, and I have no idea how to get it back.  I'm not excited about anything, don't have any real plans for the future.  And I'm not afraid, not really worried either.  As of just last week, when I had my normal six months check-up, the doctor said everything was fine, that my tests were the best he'd seen in me since I'd been his patient.  I'm in decent physical shape, but somehow that hasn't translated into anything productive.  I am not aging gracefully, at least not when it comes to actually doing anything worthwhile.

I went to the refrigerator the other day and looked inside at all the jars and packages of things that were 90 percent used up but still there.  Why had I not finished off that jar of mayo?  A couple of sandwiches, and it would've been gone, just another jar I could toss into the trash.  Then it hit me.  Why bother?  It's just a few tablespoons of mayo, so why not just throw it away and clear out some
space in the refrigerator?  Because it's a bother, that's why.  You have to dig deep into the jar to get out what's left . . . and old age is the same.  I'm down to having to work harder to get what little is left out of life, and I'm letting that shut me down.  You can't save it, that's for sure . . . so why not just go ahead a use it up?

Maybe it's just a gesture, but I'm going to have a sandwich, and it's not even lunch time.  I might be wrong, but I figure the last few slices of ham or those few last bites of mayo will taste just fine . . . and then, they will be gone.  And that's the way it should be.

DO THE THINGS YOU DON'T WANT TO DO, AND DO THEM FIRST!!

I grew up in a generation of folks taught to work, regardless of whether or not you actually enjoyed the work.  We weren't taught that work should be fun, or entertaining.  Work is a vehicle to better things, pays you money that can be spent on things you enjoy . . . but the job itself does not carry with it the requirement of being a joyful experience.  But that was yesterday, not the way most folks in this day and age think.  I'm not even sure anyone thinks about what they work at as actually being a job.  Job implies work, right?  Maybe what's happening is that we've turned into a society of people who frown on jobs, want professions instead.  Well, I've got news for you pardner - most work is not a profession because those are jobs reserved for folks who've earned the right to a recognized profession.  If you don't get the ticket, you can't ride the bus, and the world is full of people who aren't qualified to call their jobs "a profession."

But . . . having a job, regardless of what it's called, is important.  Do what you can do, and if digging ditches is all you can do, then do it.  Paint houses, be a carpenter, learn to be a bricklayer or a welder or a mechanic, but do something without the expectation that it should be fun.  Do it because you need to.  Do it because you want the money.  Do it because it's simply the right thing to do.  Don't make excuses for what you do, and do it with pride that you at least have a job and are not a drag, a weight on society.  We've got lots of them, too - the drags.

My dad once told me that I needed to get a good education because I was too lazy to work, and he was right about that.  I didn't learn to work until after I got the education and became a college professor.  I worked some along the way toward getting myself into a professional status - did construction work, worked on a ranch, other things.  College teaching bored the crap out of me.  I enjoyed it most of the time, worked hard at being a good professor, but I still got antsy and restless . . . and that led to me doing other things.  I once had a paint contracting business, did that for several years to earn extra money and drive off the ants in my pants.  Woodworking has been a fascination of mine since my early years, and I've stayed with that over the years.  I've always had a shop to work in, can't imagine life without one.  I grew up around working people, factory workers who did their jobs and then came home and did what pleased them.  Introduction to a work ethic like that was good for me, perhaps one of the best things that ever happened to me.

My grandson can't keep a job because he's retarded.  No, he isn't mentally retarded, he's just a ten year old in an adult's body.  He's a spoiled brat who flunked out of college after one semester, and has failed at every job he ever had . . . because he can't do things he doesn't want to do.  His mother is an enabler because she puts up with him.  He's a good enough kid, doesn't get into trouble, doesn't like to party or anything like that.  He's just lazy, and laziness is a form of retardation.  The worst form of social retardation?  When you don't do the things you don't want to do, you're retarded, and worse yet, you retard everything around you.  You're a drag, a weight on society, a loser.  And you'll stay a retardate until you learn to do the things you don't enjoy doing . . . and you need to learn to do those things first.  That makes the fun things you do a whole lot more fun.  

GETTING STARTED IS HARD BUSINESS

My grandson, Colton Hamilton, has moved in with us for a while, partly 'cause old grandpa is too old and infirm to get done some of the things that need doing around here.  In short, I can't do much hard work these days, maybe only four or five hours a day, and he's a strong young man who needs some experiences in life.  Mostly, he needs to learn how to work, and not at just one thing.  Getting started in life has always been hard business.  That's a part of my life I wouldn't want to live back through, and I came out of a generation that put more pressure on young people to get started doing something productive.  By the time I was 25 years of age, I was already a full-fledged college professor, and I got off to a slow start.  My grandson is 21 and isn't at all sure what he wants to do with his life.  That's where grandpa comes in, at least for the time being.

I was a college professor for 35 years, but I learned to do all sorts of things that have made my life better.  I'm a good painter, used to have a sideline house painting business.  I've been a carpenter, used to work part-time for a building contractor.  I've even done some roofing and concrete work.  I've been a cabinet maker of sorts, a furniture maker, and I still own a guitar shop where I make guitars.  I've done some work as an auto mechanic.  I like building things, and I've got a lot of tools around here . . . and my grandson needs to learn how to use them.  Even if he ends up graduating from college and being a white collar professional, knowing how to do other things is important.  It keeps you from being overly dependent on others to do things for you, and it saves a lot of money along the way.  He's only been here a few days, and a buddy of mine has already said he'd probably hire him a couple of days a week to work in his vineyard.  He grows grapes, is a wine maker.  Getting work experiences is important, and the more you learn how to do, the better off you are.

It's amazing what you can learn out of necessity and curiosity.  I've always been one to look at something and wonder, "Can I make that myself?"  I got into guitar making because I couldn't afford to spend thousands of dollars on expensive guitars, and I didn't want to play junk.  I don't work on guitars as much as I did at one time, but I try to build a few every year, and I do other projects at my shop across town.  Maybe my grandson will take an interest in that.  Maybe he'll like the carpentry work I have him doing.  He did a pretty good job of building a gate for my backyard fence yesterday.  I had reached the point with "chores" that I needed to hire someone, so it might as well have been him.  He
needs the experience, and I need the help.  Maybe I can teach him a few things.  Maybe I'll learn a few things.  There's no maybe when it comes to one thing - I'll enjoy having him around.  He's my only grandson.

WHAT NEXT?

2014 is just around the corner, and starting a new year always leaves me wondering what's next.  I'm not much of a planner, at least not for the long haul.  Maybe short term planning is a product of old age, but that's foolish because you should never let time slip up on you.  I didn't plan on being old.  My lifestyle was such that a guy like me shouldn't plan on being eighty, and I'm still not planning on being here that long.  But you never know.  That's not really my choice to make, so about the best I can do is wonder what I'll be doing should I last a few more years.

One nice thing about being old is that you're under no obligation to do anything spectacular.  With few demands and expectations on me, life is pretty much a go with the flow thing.  I don't have an action plan, in other words.  When it gets right down to it, life is more about how we react to what goes on around us.  I can't control what other people do, what happens in the world or even in my community, so all that's left to me is to react to what happens.  I didn't plan on having emergency surgery back in early June, but I did . . . and then a month later, I went back to the hospital with a bleeding problem.  I reacted by doing what they told me to do.  My life has changed some, and I'm a little wiser.

I enjoy work, staying busy doing something, and that's sometimes a problem when you're the boss.  I work around the house some, and I spend time in my shop across town, and I write books.  2013 was a good year in that regard.  Seven of my books are now in print, and there's more to come.  I'll go into 2014 expecting to double that number before the year is out.  I'll finish old projects and start new ones.  I'll do a better job of taking care of myself.  And most of all, I'll try to enjoy life.