Smaller steps...

“Aging is NOT just a number…

wisdom is not qualifiable.”          -  

- Anonymous

 

This summer I turned seventy-eight. Seventy-eight! 

Next month is my sixtieth high school reunion!

 

And who is that elderly person living in my mirror!!

 

It is not original to say, “Where did it go?” But WHERE THE HECK DID IT GO??!! By the way…what is ‘it’ anyway?

 

Off the road…

Six years ago, I retired from work. No more airplanes to catch, speeches to give, research data to sort though, and clinics to manage. No more packing and unpacking in anonymous hotel rooms with strange shower configurations. And yes, that is a thing!  

 

More than once, I called maintenance to tell them the shower in my room wasn’t working, only to discover, it was me that wasn’t working – trust me on this, not all shower operations are equal! Mercifully, my humiliation was shared only by the guy who came to help, not the audience for whom I wanted clean skin and hair.

 

Into the classroom…

I had been thinking about stepping away from the travel and finding something different to do with the ‘golden years’ of my life. Fortunately, when I got off the road, I got a job teaching at a local junior college. 

 

When sprinting on the treadmill of my carrier (It’s Wednesday, it must be Istanbul), the people I worked with and for, often said with a smug wink and a nod: “People who can – Do. People who can’t – Teach.” And for the record, in my ignorance, I chuckled and agreed… you know the inside joke made by so called productive folk. 

 

In the early eighties, I had taught a few years of university before going into the private sector. The decades of my career in health care made me think I could jump into academia, like getting back on a bicycle. It wouldn’t be a problem, ‘cause, you know…I had been doing and in my early seventies, I knew lots of stuff! Unfortunately, the stuff I knew was not exactly the stuff I needed.

 

Coming back to teaching anatomy and physiology was, from my mouth to God’s ear, one of the hardest things I have done in my life. Much to my surprise and subsequent chagrin I discovered there was an immense difference between preparing/presenting professional lectures for a one time scientific or specialty meeting and preparing/presenting content dense material to the same people in a classroom for sixteen weeks. I had accepted the position without realizing what it would take.

 

 

Out of the classroom…

This past Spring Semester was my last. After six years of eating humble pie and studying my brains out to keep up, it was time to step away. Every term, I would do my best to capture students and then go through empty nesting at the end because of the ‘ships passing in the night’ relationships I had developed.  They were the most rewarding years of my life.

 

Now what?

 I often hear folks say, “You are only as young as you feel,” or “Age is only a number.” You know who says those things? Mostly YOUNGER PEOPLE!  You know why? Because they have not had ‘old person’ experience.

 

Folks are in the era of my life, often say things like: 

·       “My balance seems to be an issue”

·       “I don’t remember my legs feeling this heavy”

·       “I’m sorry would you repeat that?”

·       “Okay, but this is strictly confidential, I’ve started wearing those pee pads”

·       “Flomax…what a godsend!”

·       “Hmm, I came in here for something…”

·       “Did you hear so and so has passed away.”

·       “I was thinking about exercising but my:

o   gout is acting up, knees arthritic, back hurts…”

 

You get the picture. 

 

There is more to do…

These years are honestly anything but golden, but they are also not tarnished silver. Despite the realities of the above list, there are lots of things to do and resources to find them. Consider:

·       Regular exercise: walking, swimming, stationary or road biking, yoga or Tai chi

·       Healthy diet: balanced diet (fruits, vegetables, whole grains, healthy fats and lean protein). Key is water, water, water…even when not so thirsty.

·       Sleep: often not seen as important as the above, but it may be the most

·       Regular check-ups for preventive care and management of encroaching chronic conditions

·       Puzzles, games and hobbies

·       Lifetime learning: reading, podcasts, lectures in person or online

·       Social activity: be proactive in family, friend, and group relations. Isolation leads to early death.

·       Mindfulness: Meditation and breathing exercises

 

The aperture of life is getting smaller with time. So? There are fewer distractions, which can help center our minds…meaning more quality time to appreciate the moments…the days. I’m actually pretty good with this diminished and more focused time in my life. 

There is that one thing though, that really bothers me.

 

That damned old guy hiding in the mirror. 

 

ted

Buju and the shoe...

“Without [play], life just doesn’t taste good.”

- Lucia, Capocchione: 

Italian-American Psychologist

 

There are two characters in this brief story, as the title suggests:

 

1.    One very animate - a three-year-old, sixty or so pounder (29kg), Portuguese Water Dog - 'Buju' (Boo-Joo).     

 

2.    One inanimate size 14 moderate hiker - 'the shoe.'

A little history…

We were visiting an adopted family in Vancouver. This story's origin goes back more than a quarter of a century and began, as most things have in my life, as an unguarded moment when I met the late patriarch of the Cheong family, Wing Lee. We traveled to China, Singapore, and Taiwan for several years. He was the brother I never had.

 

Fast forward…

His eldest son, Chung, and his mother, Sally, visited us in March of this year. It was great, but the days were too short. They invited us to visit them in Vancouver, and so at the end of May, we did.  

 

Chung found a lovely B&B for a week's holiday near the University (UBC). Coming from the desert, finding lush tall trees and hiking trails everywhere was quite a change.

 

The mornings were in the low 50°s F (11ish C°). Our hostess had a pool in the backyard with some deck furniture. The area was surrounded by a moderately high fence and evergreen trees. Sitting in the mornings, drinking coffee, reading a little, eating breakfast, and spending some meditative time was a treat.

 

Buju appears…

The first morning (Friday), as we left for the day, we unexpectedly encountered Buju, an integral part of this story. He followed us to the gate, exiting the backyard, jumping all over us until we were safely out. It was a day to look around Vancouver and get our feet on the ground.

 

The second morning (Saturday), Buju was lying in front of the glass door to our basement apartment. I opened the door and played with him a little…he was even more active than the first day. When our friend arrived to take us on the day's adventure, joining a Dragon Boat group and an afternoon wander around Granville Island. Buju was ecstatic…one more person to play with. As we left for the day, the scene from the day before was repeated.

 

The third morning, Buju was back at the door…a glass-framed door—important in the tale. Apparently, he had noticed the shoes near the door the day before. When Chung arrived to pick us up, I opened the door to let him in. At that very moment, Buju charged in and grabbed the shoe. Before we could stop him, he was in the backyard playing, 'Get the shoe from the dog.'

 

For the next twenty minutes or so, it was a mostly unsuccessful attempt to get that shoe back. It was play, after all – right? Chung and I looked like we were in a comedy sketch, trying to catch 'Buju with the shoe.' In the end, we got the shoe back, but not before all the players were worn out. I'm unsure who tired out the most, Chung, me or Buju. Okay, I am sure…it was me!

 

Our hostess was mortified and for the rest of the time we were in her home, Buju was kept in the house until we were gone for the day…much to my disappointment. 

 

The last few days as I drank coffee and read, I thought about Buju and my shoe. It was challenging to chase that dog all over the backyard, but it was fun! I was reminded of George Bernard Shaw’s quote: “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.

 

I think I could use a little more Buju in my life!

 

- ted

Trying to think but nothing happens...

“The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound 

thereof, but cants not tell from whence it cometh, and 

wither it goeth: So is everyone that is born of the spirit.”

-   John 3:8; The Bible

 

It's early morning, and the desert air is crisp.  A great way to start the day, except the screen is blank – my mind is blank, and the black letters on the white keys look more and more like the enemies of my soul!

 

Sitting behind a keyboard and hoping for a crease in the universe of inspirational thought is a lonely business. There are moments, to be sure when the tap flows freely and words take on a life of their own, coming so quickly, my fingers have difficulty keeping up with them. That would NOT be the case today.  

 

Oh, stream of consciousness, where art thou? 

 

It has always been that way…a void in the creative process, trying to listen, seeking meaning – staring into the electronic void of my computer screen. An excellent metaphor for life.

 

What to do…what to do. The rule? Write, no matter what!

 

Working to write has made me wonder about the Creator of the universe. I wonder if He struggled while stroking the blueprint for life on His cosmic keyboard.  Did the plan for all that is come fully formed or in fits and starts? Did the ideas flow with such consistency that from the beginning, there was never a doubt? 

 

It seems so brilliantly clear in the opening lines of Genesis.

 

 "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form and void. And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters, and God said, ‘Let there be light, and there was light.'" (Genesis 1:1-3) 

 

At the creative juncture of the universe, He said, “…Let there be light.” I’m not sure how many times he wondered whether the inspiration would come, nor how frequently the celestial computer screen remained blank, fingers frozen on the keyboard as he worked to write the recipe for life. When that inspiration came, I'm not sure how it was operationalized, but when he said it, there it was.  

 

I accept the premise there is a Creator, a first mover, an intelligence I do not understand but cannot deny. To me, the elegance and interactive complexity of the natural world are so awe-inspiring and ordered; it defies the belief that all of this could have happened by accident. How the heavenly programmer could keep any of the code straight and provide conscious thought is so far above my pay grade it resists comprehension. As the Roman Catholic scholar Thomas Aquinas suggested, what he didn't understand, he called God. Precisely what I was thinking!!

 

My sense of wonder has nothing to do with religious belief. Instead, it has to do with the astonishingly consistent systems within which we live. Physical laws springing from intrinsic, rational guidelines bring order to our personal and collective lives. In that context, it seems the first few verses of Genesis give but a modest overview. And like simplistic summaries, we are left with the ‘what' but not the ‘how.'

 

It's always the back story that broadens our understanding. Since we have none, we are left to discover it through scientific inquiry and observation. Paul provided insight into this in the book of Romans when he said,  

 

“The invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made.” (Romans 1:20)

 

The more we observe and study nature and all its iterations – plant and animal, the more significant the opportunity to understand the creative intelligence of the universe. 

 

Returning to the first chapter of Genesis, the scripture says God made humankind (male and female) in His image. Those that say nothing can come from nothing miss the point. It is self-evident we can create substance out of nothing more than thought. We do it all the time. What, by the way, is thought. Like so many things, we have never seen one – we have never seen gravity, nor electricity, nor love, nor so many things that operationalize our lives. Of course, we see results, but the ideas, the concepts themselves? Nope, so far, nada. 

 

In the end (or is it the beginning), it is self-evident that constructs in our minds translate into all of humanity's physical works. The power of thought, like the creation of the universe, is incomprehensible. All we see is the result. Beliefs limit us or free us. Knowing this leads to intentional decisions that move us either forward or backward.

 

All of this brings me back to what began as an empty page and, so far, has brought little except a note or two reflecting the awe I feel and the consciousness to recognize an empty screen, an empty mind, and fingers frozen at the keyboard. 

 

Ah, well…there is always next week or month, and hope springs eternal. 

 

After all, moving from zero to one is the most significant increment.

­

‑ ted

 

Love and the long goodbye...

“Goodnight, sweet prince....”

- Shakespeare: Hamlet

 

"This is the fourth time," I said quietly, my heart aching, as I stared vacantly into space, the cup of coffee slowly releasing its heat, hunting room temperature.

"What was that? Were you talking to me?" She asked.

“Sort of…yes…not really…uh...no…just to myself.”

The fourth time. 

It’s not that I haven’t had experience or known people on the moving transport belt of my life who have found themselves or rather been found by the dark thunderclouds of this horrible disease. It’s just that it’s easier to compartmentalize when relationships lack the intimacy of these four.

The metaphor

In the early days of my professional life, I spent a fair amount of time photographing spinal surgeries. In that place, patients were covered except where the surgeon opened the skin and did the work...a field where scalpels sliced and into which metal instruments dug, and cut, and prodded to remove bone or discs.

When the person on the table was someone I knew…knew in more than a “Hi, how are you?” I could not compartmentalize. They were too familiar…not ‘surgical cases,’ but my friends.

The present

Recently, I learned a friend from Belgium, one of the more brilliant people I have known, is in early-stage Alzheimer's. Yesterday morning, he, his wife, and I had a video call. It was a gentle and loving time. 

He was enthusiastic to see me. With a bit of prompting and hesitation, he found the room, cutting through the growing web of amyloid, to the place holding memories of some experiences we had together…our meetings in Singapore, Dubai, and Los Angeles. The road trip from Belgium through France to Bern, Switzerland. A cable car up a Swiss mountain where we sat on a breathtaking sunny afternoon meditating…aware of how insignificant we were, yet how fearfully and wonderfully made, that as small pieces of assembled stardust, we could know and appreciate the moment with each other and the universe of which we were a part. 

What began as a professional transactional relationship became a rich and deep friendship. I love this man...I cannot compartmentalize. He, too familiar.

The other three

There was Jim. A man to whom I owed so much in my life. A man who redirected a young, wayward, and untethered fellow to a pathway holding an unimaginable future. We weren’t really close in time, but more intimate than he ever knew in eternity. His gift for young men changed everything about my life.

There was my mother, the most influential person in my life. A woman who, over more than a decade, had the onion skin of consciousness peeled away little by little until she spent her waking hours sitting in a wheelchair rocking back and forth, humming from time to time the hymns she had learned as a little girl. Before then, talking about how she and her fraternal twin sister had been busy working on curtains for the room where she slept away her final years. Her daughter, niece, and I... lovely, but unknown people. 

My sister Nancy knew more intimately about my life than anyone who had ever taken a breath of consciousness. Stolen by the inexorable angel of death until it wasn't that she lost our intimacy; she lost me. From a clinical standpoint, her early onset Alzheimer’s fit neatly into the clinical window of four years from diagnosis to death…so say the data. There was nothing remotely ‘neat fitting’ about the tortuous pathway that took that woman away.

Now it is my Belgium friend. He is still early in his journey. He, as the people just mentioned, is a fighter. As the incline becomes steeper and the ground more slippery, he will fight for memories…he will fight for the next breath…he will fight for the wife and children that will slowly slip away - from the people he loves and those who love him.

"This is the fourth time," I said quietly, my heart aching,..."

He WILL fight, grasp, and claw. He will lose.

The goodbye?

It will be long.

-ted