Tag Life

Uplyfting Moments

Michael 2 Comments

Today’s Word of the Day at Dictionary.com is JOMO. I admit it, that was a new one for me. FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) I think most of us would recognize. MOJO (okay, usually “mojo” as in a magic power) I think most of us might even claim to have! But JOMO, umm, no, I think a lot of us would scratch our heads at that. But then, what do I know? Maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t know JOMO is the Joy Of Missing Out. The Dictionary people define it as “a feeling of contentment with one’s own pursuits and activities, without worrying over the possibility of missing out on what others may be doing.”

In a Psychology Today article (“JOMO: The Joy of Missing Out,” July 26, 2018) Christine Fuller, MD calls JOMO the “emotionally intelligent antidote to FOMO.” In fact, she subtitles her post with that very phrase. She goes on to say, “JOMO allows us to live life in the slow lane, to appreciate human connections, to be intentional with our time, to practice saying “no,” to give ourselves “tech-free breaks,” and to give us permission to acknowledge where we are and to feel emotions, whether they are positive or negative.” Well now, that I’ll buy. But I have to wonder why she didn’t lead with that instead of that FOMO antidote business. That all sounds pretty positive and you don’t have to have feared something to enjoy a human connection, to be intentional with your time, or to feel an emotion.

I’ve not worked at a meaningful, paying (which aren’t necessarily mutual) job since 2014. And if it wasn’t for an occasional foray back into the medical world but as a patient, I’d be even more bored than I have been. I would have loved to experience some additional human connections than the few I would stumble across and be more intentional with my time other than how long it takes me to complete a morning walk where incidentally I would stumble across most of those few human connections. But the boredom aside, I wasn’t unhappy. I certainly wasn’t afraid I was missing something. We used to call that being comfortable in your own skin. I guess BCYOS doesn’t have the same flare as JOMO.

I bring this up because last month I found new joy and it involves human connections and intent and emotions. But I can’t call it JOMO because the word police would question why I’m laying claim to the antidote if I hadn’t acknowledged the fear.  So let’s just say I picked up some work. The folks who would say I’m not experiencing JOMO would call it a side hustle if I had a main hustle to have something to put beside it. Oh yes, we old timers had a phrase for that also. We called it moonlighting. Some people even were audacious enough to call it “a second job.” Yeah, if you look in an urban dictionary it will tell you a component of a “side hustle” is that the hustle is something the hustler is passionate about but I bet a lot of them are just a way to cover a bill or two. And for me it can’t be a second job without a first one going on. It’s just something to do.

Anyway, to make a long story short (I know, too late) last month I entered the gig economy. Or for my generation, I got a part time job. You may have picked up from the many times I’ve come right out and said it that I used to work in health care, specifically in a hospital, that I used to work in health care, specifically in a hospital. I was good. I actually won awards. But I was not a nurse and not an administrator so that means I have the background and experience that no hospital considers valuable enough to bring back as a part timer or an as needed consultant. So I gave up on peddling 30 years of health care management in the “gig economy” and started driving for Lyft. Seriously. And it’s been a very positive experience. Again seriously.

Hailing

To be honest I think you would have to work really hard to make a “real living” driving for a ride sharing company. Fortunately I’m at a point that I don’t have to make any kind of a living out of it. I just wanted something to do when and where I wanted to do it. And if I make enough for an extra dinner out each month I’d be happy.

Also fortunately I live very close to our main airport, many hotels, and lots of corporate offices. I can take two hours in the morning and never drive more than 10 miles from my front door ferrying business people from hotels to meetings and an occasional drop off at the airport. Ninety percent of the riders I’ve had wear suits, like the jazz I always have on in my car (or at least don’t complain about it), carry on pleasant chit chat (yes, yet another term from back then), and sometimes even tip. Obviously I don’t go out on dialysis days and the day after is a 50/50 proposition, but the few morning a week I get out I stay on the road about two hours and pick up 3 or 4 short rides. And that’s enough for what I want. When I want it.

The company and connection with others has been the most uplifting experience. The use of time to actually do something has been a close second. And the extra $100 a week doesn’t hurt either.

Am I’m joyful because I’m missing out on some part of life? Nope. I’m joyful because I’m taking part in it!

Parts Is Parts

Michael 5 Comments

I haven’t written much recently because I haven’t had much to say lately. At least not in mixed company.

Actually I’ve had a lot of doctor appointments, tests, and a even a procedure done in the past couple weeks and I’ve been tired! Today I was at the dentist’s office sitting in another one of those waiting rooms with one other gentleman sitting across the way. You know how some people will go to extremes not to speak with another person in a small space, even so far as to not even make eye contact? This guy was not one of them! He would probably start a conversation with the driver of the car in the neighboring lane at a red light. I wasn’t sure if he intended on speaking with me or just talked all the time, but with an occasional “uh huh” or “umm” and a “oh yeah” or two he kept up enough conversation for the both of us. It was almost like being married again. (I’m sorry ladies, I just couldn’t resist.) (Yes, maybe that is one of the reasons.) One thing he brought up in his remarks is how as we age we pick up more spare parts as he pointed to various body parts.

It’s not something we might think about and if we do that we’d admit to ourselves, but it is quite true. Even at my tender age I have a variety of pieces that are not original equipment. And they don’t all have to be as dramatic as replacements of major internal organs. Or even minor internal organs. I would wager almost everybody reading this is helped along in some daily activity with something that was not there on Day One.

Those spare parts could be something obvious and visible like a pair of glasses or a hearing aid. It might be something not quite so obvious but still visible if you look hard enough like a dental crown or implant. If you’re looking that hard it should be at a person you know pretty well, certainly better than a random waiting room partner. You also shouldn’t stare at somebody with a larger spare part such as a prosthetic limb.

SparePartsSome spare parts are less obvious and often invisible. Artificial lenses often reside in post cataract surgery eyes correcting clearer but weaker vision; pacemakers and implanted defibrillators keep weak hearts working stronger. A friend’s father was an early recipient of an early implanted defibrillator. It worked dandily, even way back then. Except whenever someone triggered the garage door opener they also triggered a mild shock to his heart. They fixed that by replacing the opener. Easier than replacing the father. And some spare parts are outright replacements like a swapped out heart, lung, pancreas, liver, even a kidney.

Spare parts. They may not add up to what became the 1970s version of the Six Million Dollar Man, but to the person with a new heart or not blurred vision they are priceless.

What I Did On My Lost Day

Michael 2 Comments

I’m a day late. I’ve been a dollar short for years so that’s not news but the lost day is something I really tried to avoid. I knew yesterday was going to be a potential for not posting so I was going to get something written and scheduled on Wednesday so there would still be some words for you on Thursday. I’m still not so sure why but I felt I should. Unfortunately there was a power outage here Wednesday evening. That’s pretty rare for these parts and I took it as an omen that what I was going to post wasn’t worth the time or energy. I hadn’t given it a thought that my energy provider would have agreed with me so dramatically. Anyway, there would probably still be time on Thursday even considering what I had on tap for me.

Yesterday I had a simple, quick procedure at the hospital. Nothing medical is ever simple or quick but those words are used relative to what could have been. Still it wasn’t quite the whole day lost and I should have been able to write but for a couple issues.

The procedure was scheduled for 12:30 and took about 25 minutes. That should have left a great deal of the day except it didn’t. Here was the actual schedule starting Wednesday evening.

Wednesday
6:30pm – dinner
8:00 – consider a hot snack since I won’t be able to eat after midnight.
8:02 – electricity goes out
8:03 – stub toe in kitchen trying to make peanut butter sandwich
8:04 – apologize to neighbor for language
8:10 – find chair in living room, sit
8:11 – boredom sets in
8:45- give up hope of snack, go to bed

Thursday
12:35am – startled awake by lights, tv, furnace, abruptly coming back on
3:05 – return to sleep
8:00 – wake up, throw away coffee made before remembering restriction not allowing food or drink after midnight
8:40 – finally settle on appropriate “loose clothing” per instructions
9:15 – ride to hospital arrives
9:35 – clean up coffee cup and plate from coffee and danish ride has while waiting time to leave for hospital
9:45 – leave for hospital
10:25 – arrive at hoping outpatient registration
10:30 – assigned to room, put in silly hospital gown, stuck for IV, labs drawn
10:45 – wait
11:44 – transported to procedure room
11:45 – wait
12:20pm  – sedated
12:25 procedure (yay!)
1:00 – return to room for recovery
1:02 – first food since Wednesday evening (graham crackers and ginger ale (yum))

BOC1

1:11 – enjoy remaining sedation
2:00 – discharged
2:45 – stopped at pharmacy for prescription
2:46 – wait
3:05 – pick up prescription
3:15 – arrive home
3:20 – nap while daughter makes dinner
4:30 – dinner
5:00 – turn TV on for evening news
5:01 – fall asleep in front of TV
10:30 – wake up and go to sleep

Friday
8:57am – Wake up
9:00 – wonder what I missed for the last day

And that’s why you’re getting Thursday’s post now. This is it. Have a good day.

 

 

 

Learning Life, Again

Michael Leave a comment

It will be hockey nights in just a couple more. NHL hockey returns October 3. In recognition of this momentous occasion I’m repeating one of my favorite posts, “Everything I Know About Being a Gentleman I Learned From Hockey.” Why? Because everything I learned about being a gentleman I learned from hockey, that’s why. If only politicians watched more hockey.

So, from November 2016, I give you…

When I was at the hockey game this weekend I got to thinking how much as a society we can learn from hockey. Yes, the sport that is the butt of the joke “I went to a fight last night and a hockey game broke out,” is the same sport that can be our pattern for good behavior.

Stay with me for a minute or two and think about this. It started at the singing of the national anthem. I’ve been to many hockey, baseball, football, and soccer games. Only at the hockey games have I ever been in an arena filled with people actually singing along. Only at the hockey games are all of the players reverent to the tradition of honoring the country where they just happen to be playing even though they come from around the world – Canada, Russia, Germany, Sweden, Finland, even a few Americans.

A decent dose of nationalism notwithstanding, hockey has much to offer the gentility. Even those fights. Or rather any infraction. If a player breaks the rules he is personally penalized for it. Ground isn’t given or relinquished like on a battlefield, free throws or kicks aren’t awarded to the aggrieved party like victors in a tort battle. Nope, if you do something wrong you pay the consequences and are removed from play for a specified period in segregation from the rest of your teammates. No challenges, no arguments, no time off for good behavior. Do the crime. Pay the time. In the penalty box. Try doing that to a school child who bullies and you’ll have some civil liberty group claiming you’re hurting the bully by singling him out.

Hockey is good at singling out people but in a good way. At last Saturday’s game the opposing team has two members who had previously played for the home team. During a short break in the action a short montage of those two players was shown on the scoreboard screens and they were welcomed back by the PA announcer. And were cheered and applauded by the fans in attendance. There weren’t seen as “the enemy.” Rather they were friends who had moved away to take another job and were greeted as friends back for a day.

While play is going on in a hockey game play goes on in a hockey game. Only if the puck is shot outside the playing ice, at a rules infraction, or after a goal is scored does play stop. Otherwise, the clock keeps moving and play continues. Much like life. If you’re lucky you might get to ask for one time out but mostly you’re at the mercy of the march of time. Play begins. After a while play ends. If you play well between them, you’ll be ok.

The point of hockey is to score goals. Sometimes goals are scored ridiculously easily, sometimes goals seem to be scored only because of divine intervention. Most times, goals are a result of working together, paying attention to details, and wanting to score more than the opposing team wants to stop you from scoring. There is no rule that says after one team scores the other team gets to try. It all goes back to center ice and starts out with a random drop of the puck. If the team that just scored controls the puck and immediately scores again, oh well.

Since we’re talking about scoring, the rules of hockey recognize that it takes more than an individual to score goals. Hockey is the only sport where players are equally recognized not just for scoring goals but for assisting others who score goals. Maybe you should remember that the next time someone at work says you’ve done a good job.

handshakeThe ultimate good job is winning the championship. The NHL hockey championship tournament is a grueling event. After an 82 game regular season, the top 16 teams (8 from each conference) play a four round best of seven elimination tournament. It takes twenty winning games to win the championship. That’s nearly 25% as long as the regular season. It could take as long as 28 games to play to the finish. That’s like playing another third of a season. After each round only one team moves on. And for each round, every year, for as many years as the tournament has ever been played, and for as many years as the tournament will ever be played, when that one team wins that fourth game and is ready to move on, they and the team whose season has ended meet at center ice and every player on each team shakes the hand of his opponent player and coach, wishing them well as they move on and thanking them for a game well played. No gloating. No whining. No whimpering. Only accepting.

So you go to a fight and a hockey game breaks out. It could be a lot worse.

 

 

More Lessons on Ice

Michael 5 Comments

When they were picking teams for dodge ball in the playground behind the school, were you one of the last to go? OK, clearly I’m old. You can tell by the references to dodge ball, playground, and the picking of teams for any activity not associated with trivia night at the bar. Even if you are too young to remember these, or too savvy to acknowledge them, you probably have heard of such things as being “picked last in grade school for..” in many episodes of The Big Bang Theory. And you know it didn’t get them down. They all now make lots of money and are really big stars. I’m sorry, I’m mixing real life with fantasy.

But somewhere being unwanted and reaching a modicum of pinnacle-ness of success is happening right here in North American reality. Those are the NHL Vegas Golden Knights. The first expansion team to reach the Stanley Cup Final and proof once again that all you need to know to survive and succeed you can learn from hockey.

Ok, first things first. I said the first expansion team to the reach the final round and you keep hearing in the sports reports that they are the second. Technically, the St. Louis Blues reached the final in their inaugural year but only because in 1967 the NHL decided to make one conference out of all six expansion teams and the other one out of the existing six teams, thereby guaranteeing an expansion team a spot in the finals. Five of the six “Eastern Division” existing teams finished the season with more points than any of the six expansion “Western Division” teams and the Montreal Canadiens swept the final round in four games.

VGN

Vegas Golden Knights

Enough of history though. Back to the future when the Golden Knights will be the first expansion team to get to the Stanley Cup Final by winning their way there. With a team made up of a bunch of guys nobody wanted. When the expansion draft that stocked the Vegas team with players took place last year, each existing team was allowed to protect 10 or 12 players depending on how many offense versus defense skaters were included on the protected list and that included a goaltender. Each NHL team can dress 24 players (usually 22 skaters and 2 goaltenders) per game. So the existing teams could protect up to half of who they would put on the ice for a typical game. And Vegas could select one of the remaining “bottom half” talent.

And out of this group of players not wanted by anybody else, players who call themselves the “Golden Misfits,” skated a team who finished with the fifth most points, won the fourth most games, and scored the third most goals of any of the 31 teams in the league. And they are about to begin the fourth and final round of the Stanley Cup Tournament which this year will determine if misfits is synonymous with champion.

Moral of the story? Being picked last for dodge ball isn’t the end of the world. Don’t treat it like it is.

 

Hi Mom

Michael 5 Comments

Are you going to watch the reboot of Roseanne? That was the seemingly innocent question asked on Facebook last week. Among the “if nothing else is on,” “can’t wait,” and “yes, yes, yes,” was an “ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!” If the all caps weren’t dramatic enough, the multiple exclamation marks made me pause and consider that the writer’s negativity was not aimed toward the creative aspect of the production or the wisdom of rebooting a 30 year old story line.

A closer review of the comments confirmed my suspicions. The particular commenter expanded on her cyber outburst declaring that when once Ms. Barr has been a bastion of progressive thought, no woman should have to be subjected to her new conservative rantings. Word has it that in the new series, Roseanne supports some of the current administration’s efforts and this will be a point of disagreement between her and Jackie, her sister. This apparently displeased the young commenter.

In 1988 when Roseanne debuted, the show was hailed as groundbreaking. A family centric comedy with strong female characters took on the topics of the period. Typical for working class 30-somethings, Dan and Roseanne had to fight the system for any edge they could muster. It was entertaining but was it groundbreaking?

JeanHagen

Jean Hagen, America’s first TV mom

American TV has always featured strong females and story lines that reflected contemporary family values and struggles. Jean Hagen, Donna Reed, Marjorie Lord, Lucille Ball, Barbara Billingsley, and Mary Tyler Moore played strong characters dealing with the issues of their time and were some of our favorite mothers.

As strong women portraying strong women they had strong opinions. What was paramount in the 1950s wasn’t in the 1980s and isn’t now. Things change. Once upon a time in polite society we kept political and religious convictions in our hearts. Perhaps that too is changing. Today, if there isn’t a political overtone to something, some people make certain to inject one. Occasionally without spending much time in the thinking portion of the thought process.

If you ask me will I be watching the Roseanne reboot I’d have to say I don’t know yet. I liked the show when it first aired but over 7 years I became disenchanted with it. Not because I disagreed with the premise that anybody could win a lottery but because to me it wasn’t funny anymore. If I watch it on Tuesday I’ll be looking to see how entertaining it is and does it amuse me. It won’t be because either Roseanne or Jackie agrees or disagrees with my political view.

I personally don’t turn to an entertainment medium for input into my political opinion. I’d rather use news sources for that but what do I know. I’m old. Maybe that’s the latest thing so we can watch TV, play with our phones, and decide who we’re going to vote for in the next election all at the same time. Still, I require my entertainment to be just entertaining.

Although, now that I think about it, a show where real people get their political convictions from fictional characters might be pretty hilarious. I wonder who I send that pitch to.

 

Things Numerous but not Sufficiently Voluminous

Michael 4 Comments

I’ve had too many odd thoughts running around in my head and it’s time to get rid of some things that don’t make any sense to keep.

ModernThinkerHave you seen the new Internet food fad, donut chips? The last time I was at the store I purposely sought out day old donuts to try them. What you’re supposed to do is split your leftover donut in half so you have two skinny disks. Then you coat these in sugar and cinnamon and press them in a panini press. Don’t waste your time. Or your donuts. Unless you like flat, scorched, stale donuts.

I’ve seen this a lot in the last few weeks. A vehicle with appropriate handicap placard or plates idling in a handicap marked parking spot with a driver. This confuses me, particularly when I am walking past the vehicle in question after having has to park my handicap marked vehicle 3 rows away. Is this idling driver an able bodied person who dropped off his or her handicapped passenger at the store front and will return to the door to then pick up the passenger? Or is it a handicapped driver who dropped off his or her able bodied passenger and is himself (or herself) not intending on getting out of the vehicle. In either case, does that car have to be in that spot?

PatioSnow

View from my patio early Wednesday morning

Should it be normal that I didn’t think anything odd that almost 9 inches of snow fell here on the first full day of spring?

Baseball, the game of the boys of summer, starts its season March 29. Hockey and the boys of winter start the Stanley Cup playoffs on April 11. I wonder if this is why baseball style caps are the biggest hockey fashion accessory after replica sweaters.

There is a difference between being chronically ill and being disabled. Yes, a person can be both one leading to the other, and can be both neither affecting the other, and one can be either and not the other. The struggles are real for any of the above.

Am I the only person who still uses the 3 part recipe – eggs fat, and heat – for scrambled eggs and adds a splash of half and half in my morning meal mix?

QuestionIt’s been eleven days since we changed our clocks to Daylight Saving Time and I still have one clock that hasn’t’ been advanced yet. If people want an extra hour of daylight in the summer why don’t they just get up an hour earlier?

Why are there braille markings on drive up ATMs?

How many spiders are living with me that I can wipe out all the cobwebs in the corners on Monday and they’re all back Tuesday morning? And should I be worried about that?

Thank you for listening. I feel much lighter now.

 

A Virtue by Any Other Name

Michael 8 Comments

I’m writing this at about 11:30 Wednesday morning while I’m waiting for my car to be serviced. It’s not the little roadster I’ve often mentioned here but the daily driver. Since my daily drives are now short, few, and far between, it is more aptly a daily parker. But still with even less than 5,000 miles added to its journeys since last December, it needs its annual safety inspection and oil change.

Although there are more than a handful of 29 minute oil change places within a few miles of me I opted for the dealership service department. It’s very close. Close enough I could walk home if I didn’t want to wait although an oil change and inspection is usually only a half hour wait and I can amuse myself reading the paper or tackling a crossword puzzle. And it’s only 9°F (-13°C) outside. That’s warmed up from the 5° it was when I got here 3 hours ago. Less than ideal outdoor walking weather.

Oh, yes, you read that right. Three hours. I have seen people come and people go and I’ve worked all the puzzles I’m I the mood to except the one that answers why it takes so long to drain old oil out, pour new oil in, honk the horn, flash the lights, and tap the brakes.

I guess that’s not a fair representation. I know there’s more to it than that and that those who have come and gone might have had even less work done. After all, it was only 5° at the start of the day. I’m sure lots if batteries are being sold and they can switch out 4 or 5 of them in the time it takes 5° oil to ooze out of crankcase.

I don’t know what you do but whatever you do somebody has said, why do you have to take so long, why do you charge so much, why did you have to go to school for that? All you’re doing is…

Knowing that I had been the subject of such complaints throughout my work days, I was certain I never said such a thing of others. Until 3 paragraphs ago. More than likely, until 50 years ago. Impatience is not one if the seven deadly sins but it certainly should be. I spent the first hour of waiting just fine. I sat in a comfortable chair in a warm lounge and read the morning paper. By the second hour I started getting impatient. The chair got hard, the paper was boring, and there was a definite chill in the air. Heading to the third hour I am close to irate. Why am I still here when I could be home in a comfortable chair …

in a warm room …

reading … um …

the rest … ah …

of …

the … um …

paper.

Hmm…

You know I don’t do resolutions at the beginning of the year but maybe I’ll make an exception and not do that again and hope that you don’t either. So it’s taking a little longer than I expected. Across the room is a father and son playing some sort of game on a tablet. In the corner is a young man appearing to be watching a webcast on his laptop, two seats down from me a pair of young women are planning a brunch before they take a third friend shopping for her wedding dress. They all have more things going on in their lives and don’t seem to mind the wait. I’m sure I can learn something from that.

Even at my advanced impatience.

 

Leafed by the Side of the Road

Michael 2 Comments

Yesterday, for the fourth time this month I took the little car out of the garage, dropped the top, donned a pair of polarizing sunglasses (one lens Democrat, the other Republican), grabbed the real camera, and set out in search of autumnal magic, fall leaves. And for the fourth time I was disappointed.

The first time, which happened to be the 1st, I wasn’t surprised that not many trees had shifted from their summery green foliage. On the second Sunday I saw some yellowing and was given hope that the following week would be more colorful. Last week’s attempt fell in the middle of what the TV weather forecasters predicted to be the peak for color. The only red I saw was the car’s paint job. (In fairness I should have expected no colored leaves since I was going on a weather person’s prediction. After all, these were the same people who brought us “partly cloudy.”)

But yesterday’s disappointment hit a little on the hard side. There’s only one Sunday left to October. If the foliage is still as dull then as it had been I fear I may not see another leaf as pretty as on a fall tree, given that my medical history and its corresponding future are as uncertain as weather forecasting. (My long range plan is to live to at least 100. I tell my daughter that every chance I get so she won’t get to thinking that she’ll be able to live into her golden years off her inheritance. Of course only I know it’s really because if I were to drop dead tomorrow she’d only be able to live comfortably until next Thursday, so my only chance of not disappointing her in that regard is to grow so old that she herself will be old enough that she forgets that she has anything coming to her.)

It’s been an exceptionally warm fall so far this year. If you are to believe the Farmer’s Almanac (and why shouldn’t you?) it will stay above average in temperature until the week before Thanksgiving, much too late for fall foliage festivities. I don’t know if it’s the extended warm weather causing the poor color spectacle. Those pesky weather people who two weeks ago said it wouldn’t are now saying it is. But then in the past, they have said disappointing color was because it got too cold too soon. Other years it was too dry. During still others, too much rain was the cause for a dull fall.

Leaves100909

Last good color I shot, October 2009

To be perfectly honest, I haven’t seen a really vibrant fall for some years now. I suppose the easy thing to blame it on would be climate change. That seems to be a good reason for just about anything we aren’t happy with climatically speaking. Which makes perfect sense since in the truest sense of it, any change in the air can be defined as climate change. Unfortunately we actually believe we can do something about it.

The hardest thing for us to accept is recognizing that yes, people do things that aren’t good for the environment but that the environment is going to change anyway. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t be respectful of the environment and do what is good and healthy for it and for us. It is to say though that eventually, the world’s history is going to catch up with it and there are going to be changes that we aren’t responsible for and that we can’t do anything about.

As hard as it is for us and our egos to accept, we aren’t in charge here. The world came before us and had its routine well established before we propelled our first ozones into the ozone. It’s been hot, it’s been cold, it was covered in ice and covered in water. We are here at its invitation and are welcomed to ride the rides while we are here but that’s as far as it is willing to go.

This year’s colors might not be to my liking and that’s going to have to be ok. Colorful or not, the leaves will drop, spring will be back and new ones will bud on the trees. Next fall I’ll again look forward to a day when I can aim my camera at the beauty of the fall foliage.

Until then, like yesterday, I’ll just enjoy the ride.

 

…making all his nowhere plans…

Michael 4 Comments

Recently a friend asked me what I think of when I go to bed. An odd question not quite in the same category as what’s your sign and certainly more thought provoking than what’s your favorite color.

Since I go to bed alone I most often think alone thoughts. You know, “sigh, another night alone.” Now alone isn’t necessarily alone in bed. I much more often think of being alone as being the only one in the apartment than of being the only one in the bed. Of course it’s nice to have somebody care so much that they share their whole body with you but it’s nicer when somebody shares their whole person. But that’s the philosophical me. It took a while to learn that and I’m ok with it even if the bodily me would like to feel another body next to it sometimes. But I think not having someone in the same house is a more profound kind of alone.

They say there’s a big difference between being alone and being lonely. I’m pretty sure those people were never really alone for any length of time. You can talk to someone every day, you can see people during all the waking hours, you can have someone nearby, but those will never take the place of sharing space. When you go through days of going to bed at night never having another person to check in on, never having someone to say goodnight to, knowing if something happened nobody is there to say “it’s going to be ok,” that’s being alone. And if you don’t think that’s also being lonely, you haven’t not had someone to say goodnight to on a regular basis.

I can’t imagine anybody who lives alone who hasn’t thought about what happens if something happens. Is that just part of being alone? Or lonely?

Oh well.