I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, theres someone there, other times its only me…
–Bob Dylan “Every Grain of Sand”
Parents, send your children to bed (or the media room). Men, if your wives are of a delicate nature, take them away from your laptop.
I am going to expose myself, my soul, fears and hopes in this, my 200th blog post on WordPress. Yet again, I will fall into the bitter pit of memories—some bad and some good. That has become my blog “theme”, I guess; trading in on old dusty thoughts, lovers long gone and the cracks in my heart. Here I am again, standing in the rain at the corner of Bittersweet and Nostalgia. It always rains here. There’s no atmosphere without some discomfort. It could be rain, snow or tears. Doesn’t really matter, though. I turn my collar against the wind and go back to the Hi-Ho Motel to wait for the next train for El Paso. Then I remember. There’s probably no more trains to anywhere anymore except some open-pit coal mine providing good clean green energy for us all. No more whistles that broke the heart of Hank Williams or Box Car Willie. Now, it’s the next Short Line coach to Toledo.
Last year, on the RV trip to Orting, Washington, I did hear the occasional train whistle. But the long line of flat-cars never stopped. They only slowed down to obey the speed limit as the tracks crossed empty streets and country roads.
Yes, there’s no authentic atmosphere without some discomfort. No one lives in a world of warmth and protection (except, hopefully, children) without living through periods of self-doubt and a tablespoon of dread. I once had a great deal of faith that got me through the night terrors, but after heart-breaking losses, deaths and illnesses, I often feel like I live in a city populated by millions…alone.
I fall in love quickly and easily and that is a serious fault. That has led to too many broken hearts in my chest cavity. When a very close friend died in my arms (he had lived all of twenty-three years), I realized that there really isn’t a lot of time for us, on the earth, to wait for the most perfect choices. So, I made decisions based on the old trusty phrase: Carpe diem.
But, as usual, I digress.
It’s change that obsesses me now. Yes, our house could burn down tonight…that’s a big change. But, it’s the slow insidious change that happens to you during life that frightens me. I was born on May 31, 1947. That is 67 years and 6 months ago. I never was a victim of amnesia. I was never abducted by aliens (that I recall). But, I look at a childhood photograph of myself and then quickly stare into a mirror. I have changed. But I haven’t gone anywhere to undergo this change. I can’t say it happened when I wasn’t looking, because I always looked. I look different and I think different (I used to be a Conservative, for God’s sake). And, all this happened without a break in the flow of my life! All the changes I see happened during a day to night to day flow that was never broken. The lines on my face came slowly, never overnight.
There are years I lived and yet somehow missed. Students I loved, taught and counseled…I can see their 6th grade faces but do not remember their names. Women I have slept with are memories now…not out of disrespect…just the passage of time. I was numb with shock when I heard that one of my long-ago lovers is now dead. I know that this is trivial and self-serving to many of you, my friends, who have lost a spouse or future partner. I can only speak to my own experiences.
Somehow, it would make more sense to me if all these changes happened one night. I’d wake up and be middle-aged. But, it didn’t. It happened as I was looking—but I never noticed a thing until one day…
“Hey, that’s life.” This is what is going through the minds of many of you who are reading this.
I taught with someone many years ago. Her husband died part way into the school year. She was the Head of the Middle School and it fell on her to give the graduation speech that would send the 8th grade girls onto the high school. One sentence will remain with me forever. She said: “Change is inevitable. Growth is optional.”
I stood there with the other faculty members. I cried. I knew what she had been through even though I had not lost anyone in my life…yet.
What she said was absolutely true. I knew that then, but I was into my early 40’s and had no idea what was in store for me in a few short years.
I guess I catch on slowly—just like when your hair starts to turn gray.
It’s never overnight.
ME AND MY BROTHERS—AGING SLOWLY
[Circa late 1970’s]
[Circa early 1990’s]
Pat…. I truly enjoy experiencing your posts.. So appreciate that it all comes from within and yet you do not hesitate to share your deepest emotions with us. Happy New Year!! Dee
Thanks for your kind words, Denise. I’d love it if you would “follow” me on wordpress. Happy New Year.