The Clock is Ticking

I’m amazed how quickly time pasts. When I was a child, summers felt like they stretched out forever.  Each Christmas was ever so far away.  During that time, I wished my days away, wanting the next big holiday, or special day to arrive.

It doesn’t seem all that long ago, when I was seven; those thirteen year olds seemed to be so much older; after all they were teenagers.  At thirteen the sixteen year olds were just so cool. Some of them actually drove cars, and had jobs; even if the job was only at the local fast food joint.  Then at sixteen, it was the members of the senior class in high school who were mature. By the time I reached my senior year, the college crowd had “arrived” at being adults. They talked about profs, “poly-sci”, dorm life, and seemed so knowledgeable about everything; some smoked pipes (and probably other stuff too).

By my twenties, I achieved some goals, including; spending four years in the Air Force, and completed my bachelor’s degree.  Now I was really an adult, with bills to pay, and a regular job. I joked about “going over-the-hill” -turning thirty; we were the generation who said not to trust anyone over thirty.  Fifty seemed a long way off, and those in their 50s were actually old folks, after all, my parents were in their fifties.

By some time in my thirties, it dawned on me that I would never be “cool”, “rad”, “hip” again (if I ever was).  I could no longer translate “teenager-speak”.  I was married, with a child; there were others counting on me to provide for.  It was impossible to keep up with the latest trends, and besides, I’d look silly in them anyway.  Maintaining my weight became harder, and I found myself going to bed earlier than before on New Year’s Eve. Turning 40 was the new “hill”, and that one actually bothered me.

The 40’s were a bit of a blur.  There were the demands of our son’s education, homework and sporting endeavors to encourage. Grey hair started to appear, along with a hairline that began to disappear.  Earlier career goals took a major detour.  Mom died, along with a host of other relatives, and so did our seven week old foster son.

 Reaching my fifties; things like retirement seriously started entering my thoughts. I tried to convince myself that 50 was just the start of being middle-aged.  The battle-of-bulge went from a skirmish to all-out-war.  Some of my friends had grandchildren entering the picture.  Dad passed away, as did the remaining aunts and uncles. Certain of the dreams I dreamt as a young adult became just wishful thinking.  Turning 60 was just not over-the-hill (again), it became darn right scary.

At 60, my health started to become unhinged.  Almost everything in my body hurts. Things I never thought would happen to me are now a part of my regular visits to the doctor.  I hear things like; “You need to expect that to happen at your age”, “Do you have a Buckeye card (senior citizen’s discount card)?”, “When do you plan to retire?”  I meet friends I haven’t seen for a long time, and can’t believe how much they’ve aged.

I can’t speak to the 70’s or 80’s yet.  Whatever comes with those years, I really can’t do much about, other than try to maintain a good attitude, and stay as physically/mentally active as possible.

So why all the “doom and gloom” in the last couple of posts?  Loss and aging are part of the package we all face. In what Christians call the Old Testament, Psalm 90:12 says, “Teach us to number our days that we might present to You a heart of wisdom” (NASB).

Understand, the clock is ticking; we each have only a certain amount of time, it will go faster than we can possibly believe.  How is it being spent?  What really matters?  Such knowledge should change us.

LIFE CAN BE ROUGH

Life can be brutal.  One only has to remember the recent events at Sandy Hook or the bombing at the Boston Marathon.  Of course, there was 9/11 and a host of similar events.  Brutal, unfair, random, and even horrific are all words which can describe life at times.

Awhile back, I heard a character on some television program say something to the effect that he was to the point where “life is taking back more than it’s giving”.  Most of us who have reached a certain age can relate.

All my grandparents are gone; so are my parents, all my aunts, and uncles.  Memories of them are fading. I now have more loved ones who aren’t here than those who are.

There are times we can see the end coming for someone we love, and have time to do what we can to “prepare”.  Other times, the end comes with such suddenness that it can take our breath away.  

For some of us; when we were young, our introduction to loss came through the passing of a pet; dog, cat, goldfish, the loss hurt for a while but we moved on.  Normally the really tough stuff comes later.

As life picks-up speed, loved ones get negative diagnoses, and pass away.  We or others we know lose jobs, and sometimes homes. Random, senseless acts of violence invade our sense of wellbeing.  It all takes a silent toll. We can, on a certain level, become accustomed to it all.

Move to the “third” world where the majority of earth’s population lives, and life gets a lot tougher. Thousands of children die every day from unsafe drinking water, and preventable diseases. Places like the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Sudan, Rwanda, and Cambodia have seen the horrors of war visited upon the civilian population, young and old alike. 

Recently, a friend of mine read Ten Days and I asked her what she thought about it.  Her countenance fell a bit and she said; “It’s sad”.  She then continued and said; “It’s about loss.”

Among other topics, Ten Days, is about loss.  Why would I write about such a depressing topic? It costs me a certain amount of readership.  Loss is a part of life. We each choose to approach the topic or ignore it in our own way.

As an author/writer, I’ve chosen to give “voice” to the topic.  My intent with all that I write is not to discourage or depress, but rather encourage my readers (and myself) to think.  We seem to live in a time where critical thinking skills are diminished by pat answers, entertainment driven life styles, and sound bites. I long for something more, and think there are “X” number of readers looking for the sam

A WOLVERINE IN BUCKEYE COUNTRY

In 1981, my wife and I moved to Ohio.  Up until that time, we had lived most of our lives in Michigan.  Unless you live on another planet you are probably very aware of the rivalry between the University of Michigan, and Ohio State University.

I don’t mind rivalry, but at times I’ve been on the wrong side of Buckeye loyalty.  No doubt, there have been Buckeye fans that have had less than pleasant experiences with Wolverine fans. 

Sadly, the behavior is not limited to verbal abuse, and harmless pranks.  When the two teams meet even the cheerleaders and band members need protection of law enforcement, not to mention the players themselves.  The over-the-top behavior is anything but limited to the Ann Arbor and Columbus campuses.  In 2010, a Penn State fan was assaulted by other Penn State fans when he wore Michigan colors to a Halloween party.  A so-called fan of the Alabama Crimson Tide, took it upon himself to poison trees on the Auburn campus.  Where does all of this fit into the concept of sportsmanship?

We live in an era when saying and doing whatever we please, in whatever venue we please, however we please is supposed to be acceptable.  Carry that thought process over into the political realm, and it’s no wonder Washington DC is in gridlock.

A CNN opinion article caught my eye a couple of days ago.  Donna Brazile wrote about how she decided to respond positively to a request from President George W. Bush that they work together, with civility, on post-Katrina fixes.  The results were amazing.

Civility is defined as “formal politeness in behavior or speech”.  I wonder what we could accomplish, if all of us, from each political party decided to practice civility.  How about civility at football games?  Could band members, cheerleaders, football players, and fans enjoy a game without fear?

Civility requires self-restraint vs. “going for the jugular”.  It flies in the face of our self-centered, me first society.  Civility does not require a lack of passion concerning our favorite football teams or political views.  It does require assigning value as a person to those who hold a differing view.

Why have I spent several blogs to talk about communicating?  It’s what matters to me, and will be evident in my books.

Harriet Beecher Stowe woke-up America to the evils of slavery in Uncle Tom’s Cabin.  While it enforced some stereotypes, it was a landmark book for its time, the number one novel of the 19^th century.  She did more with one book than all the fire-brand speeches of its day.  Maybe something will strike a chord in one of my books and change something for someone.  I can only hope.

Sticks and Stones

O-U-C-H, words can hurt and inflect deep wounds. The damage caused by words can cut deep into our souls, last longer, and be more destructive than physical wounds. They can impact our relationships, and alter the direction of our lives.  

My guess is that we’ve all been cut-to-the-quick by someone’s use of words against us.  As kids we use to say; “sticks and bones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”.  It’s a lie; we usually knew it was a lie when we uttered the phrase. The words were already having their impact.

Since I’m now an “author” type person, you’d think I’d be the master of word-smith; crafting just the right combination of words to get myself out of every situation. You’d be wrong!

Okay, not only do I do the author thing, but I’m Irish to boot.  What a winning combination!  I can kiss-the-blarney-stone with the best of them.  My wife, Connie, is amazed at how I can pour it on. (she knows me too well)

In addition, I’ve done public speaking for more than 40 years.  Normally, I know how to prepare for a presentation, pull together the facts, and present. Still, I manage to “step in it” once-in-awhile.

Emails, especially, have gotten me into more hot water than I care to think about.  You would assume that with an Email or other form of written communication I’d be safe. After all, there’s time to think about the choice of words, delete emotion.  Yet, within the last six-to-eight months, I’ve managed to make a shipwreck of a relationship I once valued just below that of my marriage.

What went wrong?  My intentions were good. I thought about the Email a long time before I wrote, and tweaked it several times.  I knew I was asking some tough questions via the Email, but I thought those on the receiving end would understand all my good intentions. No such luck.

Writing in this forum, or in a novel can yield its own field of land mines.  Every reader brings their own personal lens with them, as do I. The lens is tinted by events which have gathered around us since birth.  Writing isn’t for cowards. It’s in black and white for the entire world to see – it’s just that others don’t see with my lens.

I don’t intend to back away from writing.  But, I also need to learn from each experience. I cannot assume that even my best friends will understand what’s behind what I’m writing in this blog or in my books.  I hold the responsibility to communicate as transparently as possible.

As you continue to invest your time to read At the End of Sheppard’s Block, feel free to ask questions, probe my thinking.  Assumptions are dangerous to both of us. As the Ghost of Christmas Present said to Scrooge;  “Come in, and get to know me better, man”.