Still Here And Sticking Around!

 

I’m sure you see lots of folks around like me. Some of us are using a cane or a walker. Maybe we’re just standing around, looking a bit confused.  We could be just trying to remember what it was that tempted us to venture out of our more comfortable surroundings. That might be me or my Bride.

I’m thinking quite a bit about that because, often, when I see stories about the dearly departed in the News, they are younger than I happen to be. I wonder, was I looking the other way, deaf to all sounds, when the exit whistle sounded? I think, why them and not us, not me? Is it something about our virtuous nature that has singled us out? For myself, I know that I have tried with all my might to develop vices, but none of them took. I get depressed sometime like everybody else, but I have never researched the technology of departure. I know I have seen my best days, but is that a reason not to stick around? Is it just that nothing about me in the eighth decade of my life hurts enough?

We all have the instinct to live, and when in harms’ way, we fight to stay alive. Living is filled with threats to our existence and we normally avoid situations where our lives might be in danger. We glory in the presence of children and grand-children as witnesses to our immortality. We think about our genetic heritage and wonder at how much we owe our forbearers for our longevity.

The life experience comes with the occasional threat to life and limb. I have had my share, appendicitis, with the organ bursting, infection leading to unconsciousness and life-threatening sepsis, cancer, diabetes, high blood pressure, undetected brain injury from a childhood encounter with a bully; so many events that could have led to my abrupt departure. Yet here I stand. I have travelled to many dangerous places without serious incident, experiencing all manner of exotic diseases, and hostile environments. Bribery, and avoiding medical intervention, were sometimes my friends.

But I have not jumped from a plane or skied down a precipitous slope, I do not race fast cars. I moved from the slums early and have lived a humdrum personal life, avoiding prison and too much in the way of drug inputs. I consume food and drink without too much devotion, and am generally optimistic about life’s prospects.

It is my incredible good fortune to have a caring Bride, the focus of my hopes and dreams since I was a teenager. I had to wait fifty years to earn her acceptance and I am not about to end my tenure. We are in continuous contact with our living children and grandchildren. One has fulfilled a promise so that I am a great-grandfather, and we are anticipating action from those busy with other things or not formally allied as yet. Who wouldn’t want to hang around to witness further joyous developments?

I know the world has many individuals and communities whose conditions are less than fortunate. I am content with my widow’s mite of contribution to my neighbors’ betterment and feel only a modicum of guilt and shame my lot has proved better than the average. I leave the judgement of rights and wrongs to others and count myself lucky.

Like most of my readers, I spent an active working lifetime trying to prove I had something worth offering in return for the gift of life that I have been given. Greedy though I was for glory, I am more or less content with what I have left on the table for others. I continue to work mightily to avoid being a total charge on the public purse.

My early attempts at producing the epic poem, the epic tale, put aside for careering during sixty years, is now my treasured pastime. You are the, perhaps unwilling, recipients of my offerings. I keep hoping for the best but so far the necessary eloquence has escaped me. I remain open to positive suggestions.

Why others have gone on and I am still here, I do not know. But I am keeping myself busy until the come-what-may.