When did people start ending every conversation with “be safe. Keep yourself safe”? Am I the only one that wonders when it was decided that we are living in a time of war or zombie attacks? And why is it so incredibly sad to know that the enemy we’re being cautioned against is a disease too often spread to us by our own loved ones and ‘friends’?
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I’m not a big fan of this ‘aging’ stuff. But unfortunately, dealing with all the things that can go wrong as our bodies mature beats the snot out of the alternative.
Sometimes the drama of politics has to take a number and wait for my attention. This was one of those weeks. I had some routine cataract surgery that didn’t go as well as planned, and it took a lot of strong-arming to get that rectified.
I’ve long had the reputation of being the loudmouthed rebel, who takes no sh*t or prisoners, either for herself, or for those she loves. Not sure if it’s the Irish or the French in me, but that’s just the way I’ve always been. If you come for my people, you’d better come prepared for a fight.
Last week music. This week a new topic. No…..not COVID. There’s enough written about that already and it’s a subject I’m starting to grow weary of. We’re in the middle of a worldwide “situation” that requires diligence, clean hands, keeping a distance of 6.5 feet (when did two metres becomes six feet…..that’s a fail in math class?!) and a disguise when showing your face (or 1/3 of it) in public.
Speaking from experience, I can tell you that it’s not necessarily true that you’ll get a whole lot wiser as you age. I’m just grateful to have had the chance to have a good number of years to get experience in dealing with the range of circumstances and individuals that have crossed my path.
In the rule of three, most everything can be divided into thirds.
My first husband used to say, “Some people make things happen, some people watch things happen, and some people sit around asking, “what’s happening?” What can I say? It was the sixties.
1/3 of Americans love Trump, 1/3rd don’t. 1/3rd will go along with whatever everyone else is doing.
Next week, I’ll be heading to British Columbia to visit my daughter, granddaughters, family and friends. My husband gifted me the fare; he knows I’ve been aching to see the girls. I’ll be there for my daughter’s birthday, and to reacquaint myself with my granddaughters, who are teetering on the brink of their teenage years, at ages 11 and 13. My daughter will have her hands full for the next decade with these two little minxes.
For boomers, aging is a bit like puberty; we don’t know what’s next, and we’re both eagerly anticipative and terrified of what’s to come. Often simultaneously.
No matter how you’ve lived your life … saintly, and with a whiff of heaven in your aura, Dora, or a little naughtily, with a more checkered past than you’d care to admit … you want to be rounding third base and heading into home plate with a fine group of worthy team mates, and a cheering section that still likes you, whether because of, or despite, your resume and reputation.
I must have done something right, because I’m blessed with a lot of wonderful people in my corner.And so many of us share a musical background.
Every now and then, we have to lift our eyes from the path we’ve trod, and reassess. You can’t have perspective on where you’re going if you never looked at where you’ve been. Taking a good, long, eyes-wide-open look at not just what you’ve done, but why, can be terrifically painful, but so is living an unexamined and unfulfilled life.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 