Of Sickness, Health, Old Friends, and Family

Remember when the news of the day was the new car, the new child on the way, the new school that the kids would enter this year, the problems on the job, or the promotion? Somewhere in your twenties you enter that world and it goes on and on as if it were never going to end, and then silence, it is over.

The last kid goes off to college and the house has an eerie silence in it that all the televisions and radios can not fill. You walk into bedrooms once almost off limits to you and look around, waiting for what was to come to life, and noting happens. Finally the telephone rings and one of the children tells you that they would love to see you, but it may be next month, or the next, or the next. You adapt.

It is sort of a blessing that your own parents are in more need of your time and energies now, and you jump headfirst into their problems, and you start calling up and talking to people who you have known along the way who got lost. You join in community efforts more and you get involved in other interests, writing or working sudoku puzzles. When you get the chance, you go on extended trips to places you always wanted to visit.

In the twinkling of an eye, grandchildren are born, parents pass on, and you find yourself sitting in front of the computer, signing up for Social Security and Medicare. Little back and leg problems become chronic, and you spend a lot more time in the doctor's office or other medical facilities. Sisters, brothers, inlaws, friends, and other acquaintances start having problems that are even more chronic and life threatening.
You go to the mailbox and there is a letter from an old friend's wife saying that Larry died a couple of months ago after an extended illness.

Three years ago, while working in High Point, you stopped by to see Larry and Kathy, old college friends, and had a great couple of hours but you knew that Larry was headed for big problems, but, though you are in his town many times, you fail to followup, and he is gone. But, like magic, another old college friend calls you up and tells you that he has letters you wrote him when in college and he wants to give them to you. You drive across town to see him for the first time in 35 years and you find there is a kindred spirit that is sort of in the same place in life that you are, again, and the communication is very satisfying. There was a reason that you were buddies 45 years ago.

What is it going to take for me to like this thing they call old age? For one, a lot more contact with my grandchildren than I have been able to have over the last six years. Another is for family members to tear down the religious and political fences they have constructed to corral their friends and keep out their enemies. I really do not give a damn about either your politics or religion any longer, I care about your humanity. Us old geezers are close enough to finding out the real truth about religion and we need to stop dividing up the world into those who think like us and those who don't. My soul belongs to me, not you, so, stay off the turf.

But, it is also going to take as much reuniting with old friends as possible. I want to sit and talk with Dennis Franklin and Robbie Cannon, Joe Miller and Jimmy Mullis, and all the others that were once such a great part of my life. I want to share the pain and the agony with my family members who have been there all my life. I also want to share the joy and the rewards of a well spent life.

Morrison and I have been partners in business for 31 years. I want to be one of the people he and Connie talk to about her bout with cancer. I want to console and elate her as she takes this unwanted journey. I want to talk with both of them about the great projects that we have tackled together, nearly always with astonishing success. I want to gloat over the awards won and the people made happy by our work.

And, I want to make new friends and enjoy those that circumstance or propinquity have brought into my life. I want to go out and drink a cup of coffee now and then and talk about life, politics, and baseball scores.

Like the other parts of my life, this one will also pass, and I want it to be worth the living just as the other were. The death and sickness notices will come, and I accept that as a part of this phase of my life, but I demand there be balance.