[Grovenet] getting older

[Ed Davie]

Well said, Ron.
Ed
  ----- Original Message ----- 
  From: Ron D'Eau Claire
  To: 'Forest Grove local interests list'
  Sent: Monday, January 21, 2008 5:19 PM
  Subject: Re: [Grovenet] getting older


  Bob, I have no idea what your situation is like, 
and if I did I'd not
  presume to offer advice. After thinking about 
your message all day, I have
  decided to offer something of my world, my 
story, in case any part of it is
  of value to you.

  I'm just about a year older than you and I've 
come to the conclusion that I
  am not what, a few decades ago, I'd have called 
a "senior citizen", nor will
  I ever be one.

  The fact that I've lived a full 7 decades means 
exactly that: I'm 70 years
  old. It means nothing more.

  I must still work to pay my bills. That may well 
always be the case as long
  as I live. With age comes a greater possibility 
of some sort of significant
  physical disability, so my plans include ways to 
continue to be productive
  in some why in spite of what may happen to my 
body.

  A bit over a quarter of a century ago I "woke 
up" from a long slumber as a
  married man and dedicated corporate manager when 
both my wife and my
  employer both said "It's been great, but so long 
and thanks..."

  I had to reinvent myself. It seemed to me I had 
to grow up again (or for the
  first time?). I was irresponsible for a while. 
Then I was alone as I
  considered what sort of life I really wanted. 
Only then could I begin to
  admit people into my life, and I chose those who 
seemed to have something to
  say that I could understand. I was "back in 
school" in a very real sense.
  That took years, but as I did I began to make 
new friends, perhaps the first
  true friends of my life, so astonished was I at 
the wealth of kindness,
  compassion, help and companionship they gave me.

  And my friends had many wonderful lessons for 
me.

  One taught me to be in the present. As we grow 
older we have rich, full
  histories behind us of both pleasure and pain. 
It comes with being human.
  But what matters is now. The sunlight flashing 
through the tree branches
  outside my office window. The crisp, cool air. 
The sturdy family of humming
  birds that defies winter to come to the feeder 
again and again day after
  day. Learning to live in the moment, rather than 
in the past or the future
  makes the moment richer and fuller. After all, 
it is all we have. The past
  is a museum of personal experiences. The future 
is a possibility with no
  guarantee. Only this moment is rich and full. It 
is where life exists. All
  else is dead but this moment, this breath, this 
heartbeat. Gene is a retired
  Navy pilot, a survivor war and countless carrier 
sorties in a jet fighter.
  On reflection that experience might have taught 
me the same lesson <G>.

  Another taught me to be grateful. Grateful for 
each breath. Grateful for
  sore muscles because they remind us that we are 
still alive. Grateful for
  the unknown ahead because it is a blank slate on 
we are free to compose our
  futures, not a fixed program we must follow like 
robots. That teacher,
  Carol, is another writer and adventurer in life. 
Today she is facing the
  great adventure, now in hospital with the later 
stages of lung cancer. After
  a year and a half she has beat the odds, but 
barely. It's unlikely she'll
  leave the hospital alive. She remains grateful 
for each breath and for her
  wonder to discover what lies beyond dying. She 
has taught me exactly what
  another relative meant when I held her hand on a 
hospital gurney as she was
  dying of a stroke. She gripped my hand, smiled, 
and said, "Thank you." A few
  minutes later she was gone.

  One of the challenges of growing older that I've 
found is the challenge of
  helping friends die and of being the survivor, 
free to continue with this
  experience after they're gone. With each one, I 
feel a small obligation to
  contribute a little more to my world in some way 
in their memory, as of they
  passed on some mystical baton of life.

  I am not suggesting that there aren't a lot of 
people over 60 years of age
  who aren't in terrible situations: hungry, 
without decent shelter, without
  decent lives. But, I submit, so are a great many 
younger folks too. We're
  all in the same boat.

  If we're in a position to help, even with a few 
words of encouragement, we
  do so, no matter the age.

  Others of all ages live with mindless 
discrimination just as we do.
  Sometimes it's the color of their skin, 
sometimes it's their religion,
  sometimes it's their age, sometimes its just 
"because".

  Another lesson I learned is the supreme value of 
being "selfish". I believe
  selfishness is among the highest of virtues. It 
is taking care of ourselves
  so we can contribute to others. It is learning 
to say "no" and learning that
  it is more than okay, it is our life's mission 
to pursue our deepest
  passions. For until we have created something of 
value that we are proud and
  happy with in ourselves, we have nothing of 
value to give others.

  I have seen too many dedicated, well-meaning but 
empty people trying to
  serve others. Instead they drain others with 
each contact, just as an empty
  cup lowered into a cistern takes away some of 
its water.

  Regrets? Certainly. Too many to count. Times 
when, in my reckless ignorance
  I hurt someone. Times when I missed 
opportunities or didn't practice
  appropriate selfishness and say "no", instead 
giving into another's demands
  and  becoming a sink for their energies in the 
process, no matter how hard I
  tried to make it otherwise. Sometimes, when half 
asleep in the morning those
  thoughts come flooding back and when they do I 
open my eyes and look at the
  sunlight and say, "Thank you for this day, this 
wonderful opportunity to
  learn and do new and exciting things, to love 
the people in my life and to
  love being alive."

  It's late afternoon now. It's been a wonderful 
day filled with activity. As
  all days are, this day is far, far too short. I 
could easily use another 10
  hours to do the things I want to do. Not things 
I "need" to do, but things I
  *want* to do for my clients and for myself. I 
sense that if each day is too
  short, life itself will be too short, no matter 
how many years I have left.

  If I ever find myself in the spot my friend 
Carol is in today, lying in
  hospital in pain, and struggling for breath, I 
hope I am still able to greet
  the day with enthusiasm and interest. And, if 
I'm not, well, I have no doubt
  there's a valuable lesson in that as well. But 
those are possibilities, not
  life. They are in a possible future, not in life 
today. Life is in this
  moment, this keystroke. And it is good. 
Incredibly good.

  Ron D'Eau Claire



  -----Original Message-----
  From: grovenet-bounces at rdrop.com 
[mailto:grovenet-bounces at rdrop.com] On
  Behalf Of Bob Malone
  Sent: Monday, January 21, 2008 12:37 PM
  To: grovenet at rdrop.com

  Subject: [Grovenet] getting older


  Only after reaching the age of 69 have I gained 
an under- standing of how
  hard it is in our society to be a senior 
citizen.

     The "Golden Years" are more than we are ready 
for in
  a lot of way's.  For instance,if you have your 
health and enough money set
  aside,then they might in fact be the "Golden 
Years"

     God bless our seniors and all that they must 
go through.

     Signed,

     Bob,just another senior 
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