Just a little more than usual
Don’t like it. I used to, back in grade school days, when most winters would offer up at least a few weeks of cold enough weather and proper conditions to assure a decent place to skate.
If cold weather lingers too long into the spring, it starts to wear on me. I have a tendency to go into a sort of dormancy. There’s a temptation to push the thermostat up a bit, and settle into the comfy chair. I start craving warmth.
Yes, on April Fool’s day, three years ago. Had fractures in both arms around the elbows. I was running behind my granddaughter on the sidewalk in front of our house, turned away for one second, turned back and realized she had stopped running, did a clumsy avoidance maneuver and landed with a fair amount of force on my hands. She was a bit stunned, but none the worse for wear. Rehab went well, and there are hardly any residual effects.
There currently isn’t any work/home life to have to balance. Retirement has taken that off the table, at least for the time being.
It gives me pause to see the question stated so plainly. I’d like to think that I sacrificed 26 years of my life to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but it wasn’t anything nearly that noble or selfless. It was a struggle, alright, but not because I deprived myself in any way or took many unpopular stands, or had to forgo creature comforts or pleasure, or renounce family life. It was more that I was always feeling like a fish out of water, way out of my comfort zone, and less than honest about my ambivalence toward and doubt about the whole enterprise.
There was a certain sacrifice of time and direction of effort when our children were growing up.
Well, I guess my pants, possibly my socks. I get good mileage out of most clothing items, except maybe my shoes, since I have a few pairs in the rotation. Actually, chances will be good that my cap will be the oldest thing, if I wear a certain Red Sox hat that I’ve had for a longer time than I care to admit.
Apples, strawberries, freshly cut pineapple, Asian pears, and bananas.
Being better about going with the flow, with changes in plans. I’ve always had trouble with that, though that wouldn’t be a small improvement. It’d be a major overhaul, maybe some sort of breakthrough.
A small improvement might be to make a conscious effort to refrain from always checking my iPad or phone. It’s become almost a reflex action.
It’s difficult to pick one person. I grew up in a village, of sorts. It was a general vibe, a milieu. We were always getting together with various members of the extended family– on both sides. So, one time it might be an uncle or aunt or a cousin, another time it might be a grandparent or family friend who stood out as interesting or memorable for some reason.
Maybe it’s the dynamic of growing up in a neighborhood with a lot of kids our own age or a bit older. This group would often gather at our house and play baseball, or more likely whiffleball, because our yard wasn’t that big. But my Dad would often be in the midst of us, and maybe he’s the one who had the most positive impact on my life. He was truly young at heart, even when he was 85 and slowed by an aging body that was starting to let him down.
I’ve mentioned Mr. McGregor, my high school Spanish teacher, in a couple of previous posts. I remember him as being the best teacher I had in all the years of grade school, but I don’t know exactly what, if anything, he instilled in me. For the purposes of this prompt, it’s my Dad who comes to mind, who modeled certain traits and tendencies which, for better or worse, I have come to embrace or embody.
It has evolved over time, as might be expected, as one grows older and maybe wiser. When I was young, I thought my country could do no wrong, and its leaders– almost exclusively men– were all upstanding citizens. As my world grew bigger, I realized that women were equally capable of both brilliance and stupendous ignorance. Scales fell and my view of America changed. The lens through which I viewed things became more finely tuned, equipped to see more layers in sharper focus. The blissful ignorance of my Boy Scout days gave way to an eye-opening reality check, a growing awareness of a more diverse canvas and palette of colors– along with a certain skepticism– probably the logical progression of moving from the relative shelter of a stable home life and on to college, and exposure to different people and ideas.
I grew up in the 1960s. There was a lot happening back then, and it’s been a cascade ever since– of turmoil, issues and causes, advancements of all sorts– in understandings of human nature, in creature comforts and technology and expectations and senses of entitlement. One thing that hasn’t changed is the annoyingly dependable supply of megalomaniacs and others who, for some reason, think they can rule the world, who spit on freedom and treat it as some quaint notion embraced by all the underlings.
Freedom isn’t everything, but it’s what we crave. It’s not a license to do or say whatever we feel like doing or saying. It is, rather, provision for finding our own path in life, our own voice. The right to call out ignorance and evil, even as there may be consequences for such honesty. Freedom is tempered by commitment to others and to the community and framework given us, in our case, by a collection of forward-thinking founders who risked the gallows or some other unpleasant end in order to lay the groundwork for a place where everyone– at least on paper– was entitled to certain inalienable rights.
They were also smart enough to realize that humans will be humans, and that the long arc of evolution moves slowly enough for many generations to be dealing with just enough misguided, self-involved lunatics to keep us on our toes.
There are so many to choose from, but I’ll have to say the current U.S. President, hands down.
