I know nothing about getting old and less about the wisdom that supposedly accompanies it. I was naive enough to think that age and grace are compatible – that growing old means being comfortable with it. I was informed of my ignorance by one seasoned relative some years ago that just because you get older doesn’t mean you’re okay with it.
If it’s one thing young people are deficient in, it’s knowledge of how age affects life. And though my students wouldn’t call me young, I know better than to claim any rights to the title Veteran. I’m hardly an experienced member of this planet. Nevertheless, by observation I’m realizing that mortality is ever present and yet terribly obscure to those enraptured by youth.
Age and its unavoidably unpredictable progression is observable, entertaining and revealing but it’s lessons aren’t easily translated. If they were, more marriages would succeed I think and less time would be spent at the police station bailing out underage pleasure seekers. There’s something about age that can move an athlete from novice to professional, from hedonist to philanthropist and/or from isolationist to team player.
The problem with age is not a problem at all save for the aches, weight, diminished reflexes, etc. Are you kidding? Those sound like terrible life inhibitors. And they are but the older folks told and tell me that despite the physical detriments, age affords wisdom to those who pursue it as they age. Age is a bit sterile after the fanfare of puberty. But if I could tell the Norman of 16 years ago anything it might be that, “the aging is less like a field trip to the zoo and more like a safari”. It’s getting out on the land in a jeep with a native guide who has a rifle but can’t guarantee safety. On one hand you could end up being dinner but put simply, if you’re going to age anyway, you may as well get in the jeep.
How many diseases are there that strike fear in our hearts because either there is no vaccination to prevent them or said vaccine is scarce? Immunity has a positive connotation and I don’t normally couple the word with excitement. Raise your hand if you want to be immune to emotions that produce exhilaration – Excitement Immunity.
It seems like I’ve always commuted to work, sometimes as much as an hour door-to-door. Right now it’s about 35 minutes from Rancho Cucamonga to Riverside. I travel against traffic so I don’t have a problem with morning gridlock. But when I drove with the grain, Fridays usually seemed like an easier drive. People take days off on Friday’s I guess and it frees up the highways.
I used to laugh every time I heard, “That’s Bush League.” I don’t even know what I thought that phrase meant but thanks to the advent of the search engine, my ignorance has been abated. Bush league means novice, unprofessional or amateurish. Once upon a time there were minor league baseball teams, many of whom played their games in ballparks that were anything but major league caliber. They often had bushes aligning the perimeter and were aptly dubbed, “Bush League Baseball.”
Besides tasting great, the Alaskan Salmon provides a metaphor that I hope will make sense. I often don’t make sense when I reach for and invent analogies. Nevertheless, the Alaskan Salmon spend 1-3 years in preparation for a journey out to sea with a group of like-minded swimmers. They then spend 1-8 years in sea water before readjusting their bodies to fresh water and swimming upstream to spawn and lay eggs. The final swim is against rushing rapids and up water falls as they relentlessly seek the waters in which they were born. And when they arrive, if they’re not eaten by wild animals or caught by fishermen, they lay their eggs and die within 1-2 weeks. So I guess every Salmon is an orphan.