Today I’m thankful to be aging
and taking with me the wisdom of a sage…
Who said:
Live your life the best way you can
and forget about your age.
May we be blessed as we grow a little older every day
as we watch the aging process adding wrinkles to our skin…
to never
no matter how old we may become
lose all those other ages we have been
Sally was playing in her backyard…chasing butterflies and bees
when she decided to rest a while in the shade of her mango tree.
“Thank you for the shade.” She said. “It’s nice to get out of the heat.”
“You’re welcome.” The mango tree smiled. “Would you like one of my mangoes to eat?”
“Yes, please.” Sally answered politely. “What do I have to do.”
“Not a thing.” The mango tree said. “I’ll bring one down to you.”
The mango tree lowered a branch saying, “This is the ripest one I’ve made.”
Sally picked it and with her back up against the tree…ate her mango in the shade.
The next day Sally brought a bucket of water…telling her tree, “I filled this in the sink.
As a thank you for my mango…I wonder…would you like a little drink?”
“Yes, please.” The Mango tree said politely. “What do I have to do?”
‘Not a thing.” Sally said with a smile. “I’ll bring the water down to you.”
“Thank you for the water.” The mango tree said. Not only does it feel good in the summer heat,
but it will help me grow taller and stronger and make more mangoes for you to eat.”
And on many a hot summer day Sally’s parents would look out the window and see
with an empty bucket sitting next to her…Sally eating a mango in the shade of her mango tree.
Later, when she’d bring her own family for a visit…after playing in the sun.
Sally would bring the bucket of water…and the tree provided mangoes for everyone.
When her parents died they left Sally their house which included her mango tree.
and now when an older Sally asks, “Would you like a drink?”
She adds “This bucket seems heavier than it used to be.”
“Yes please.” The old mango tree answers. “And I’ve got a mango ready for you.”
It’s funny how over the years these mangoes seem a little heavier too.”
Now when they come to visit on a summer day Sally’s grandchildren know where she will be…
next to a bucket…eating a mango…in the shade of her mango tree.
It happened again yesterday…and, as usual, took me by surprise…
A reminder in my life of how rapidly time flies…
About halfway through our morning walk..we decided to take a break…
to listen and watch the birds from a pier overlooking a lake.
The blanket of night was lifting and the morning was beginning to stir…
when a young man out for an early jog ran by and said, “Excuse me, sir.”
He continued happily on his way while I was left standing there….
on that pier overlooking the water with the word ‘SIR’ hanging in the air.
When did I become old enough to be a sir?
Was there a particular year or month or day?
I tried to erase the word as it hovered…but it would not go away.
I should have heard his footsteps from my perch next to the shore…
but even though my ears are so much larger now…I don’t hear good anymore.
Although he was now out of my view…I had this sudden whim…
to leave the serenity of the lake…and take off after him.
To see the look of surprise on his face as this old man…wrinkled and gray…
says, “Excuse me, sir.” as I smile…pass him by…then continues on my way.
Then I looked down at my legs and said to myself, “I can’t run on these.”
because as I’ve grown a little older I’ve had two surgeries on my knees.
I realized trying to run after him with bad knees would not be too bright…
besides I couldn’t remember after he left the pier…did he turn left…or right.
Anyway he had such a huge lead on me…I would be starting too far behind him…
and with my eyesight being as bad as it is…I’d probably never find him.
So as we finished our walk enjoying the clouds as they floated in the sky of blue…
I realized there and then…there was nothing I could do!
There’s nothing wrong with being a sir…I told myself…
(on this…I’m still waiting for my heart and mind to agree)
but my eyes,
my ears
and my knees…
have not stopped thanking me.
Listening to music, like the Grammy’s, I’m always amazed at the power of a melody…
how it can make you smile…cry…or fall in love…how it can create a memory.
How we silently listen to some songs as if we’re in a trance…
while other songs lift us off our feet and make us want to dance.
I imagine there’s a special time in our life…I’m not sure when or where it starts…
when certain music…a certain song…imprints itself upon our heart.
Within our souls it drifts…until it finds a comfortable place…
Its notes indelibly written on the lines across our face.
A time when that music…that song filled a space and made us whole…
I suppose that’s why we have an affinity…a love…for the first music that ever reached our soul.
I suppose that’s why, as we get older, we crave the music from before…
and why you hear some old folks saying, “They don’t make music like that anymore!”
Still…we try to listen to the new music…the young musicians…the newest bands…
even though we do not recognize who’s singing…and most words we cannot understand.
But every now and then a new song…a new singer comes along…we don’t know when or where it starts…but that new song they are singing imprints itself upon our heart.
Within our soul that music…that song…finds its own unique and comfortable place…
and its notes become indelibly written on the lines across our face.
Perhaps that’s why, as we get older, we have more wrinkles…more lines across our face….for the new notes to be written…as new songs …ind within our souls…
their own unique and comfortable place.
Our house is filled with photographs depicting events both great and small…I find them in the pages of our family albums on our desks and framed upon our walls.
When I see them they make me smile…remembering a moment…and what’s more…I realize in each photo…chronologically… I’m a little older than the one taken before.
Yes, when looking at old photographs…I am mesmerized…I’m thoroughly engaged as I remember happy moments then think how much I’ve aged.
I remember each different moment… at a different time…in a different place…and I can’t help but also notice a few more wrinkles on my face.
Reminding me in black-and-white and color I’m not the young man I use to be…although I have to admit, over the years, this has less of a tender spot for me
Because when I gaze upon the photos in our albums, on our desks or on our walls, this I also see…how I’m surrounded in each photo…by my friends and family.
And when I look at every photo…I am smiling…I’m elated…which makes me proud of all those wrinkles all those smiles have created.
So now, when I walk around our house…
at whatever picture I happen to be glancing…
I feel my face…
as I remember the time…
the place…
and the people
who keep these wrinkles dancing.
After years of being married…raising children and watching grandchildren grow…the husband looked over at his wife and said, “There’s something I’d like to know.”
“Have you been happy all our years together?” He asked.
A smile lit up her face.
“Yes!” She happily conceded…for everything we’ve ever had is everything I’ve ever needed.”
“The joy of our love has given me the strength to face any sorrow or sadness in life undaunted…knowing everything we’ve ever had is everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Well, old man I hope you’re happy with the answer I’ve given you…but now it’s my turn to ask: Have you been happy too?”
He walked over and took her in his arms saying, “Years ago I had the good fortune to marry by best friend…and I remember thinking if I only have one dance with you I wish for a song that never ends.”
“And after all our years with me living…loving…and dancing next to you…how can I not be happy…for you see…my wish came true.”
I took a long look in the mirror this morning and boy was I surprised…I think the best way to put it would be…I couldn’t believe my eyes.
There was a time my eyes were much bluer…a brighter…vivid shade…
when…I wondered as I stared…did their color begin to fade?
And when did the skin underneath them begin to droop and sag…when did my once youthful face develop old man bags?
At first glance, I admit, I was taken aback…I was shook…so I leaned into the mirror to take a closer look.
Up close I didn’t see the bags or notice their color had lost their sheen…up close all I saw were all the wonders these eyes have seen.
Yes, these eyes may have grown a little older…they may have developed a few scars…but they’ve also seen the colors of a rainbow…sunsets…the ocean…shooting stars.
These eyes have seen love as it’s unfolded in many a shape and size…love both given and received I saw reflected in these eyes.
These eyes have seen me make mistakes…they’ve seen me make amends…they’ve been happy as they’ve witnessed the beginning of life…and sad to see life end.
They’ve seen flowers bloom in Spring…Fall colors and Winter snows…they’ve seen many a baby’s smile…o moonlit night…they’ve seen my family grow.
These eyes have seen the joys of living…they’ve seen its sadness and its fears…they’ve been overcome with laughter…they’ve been filled with tears.
As I leaned back from the mirror…my vision seemed more keen…comforted and energized by all the sights my eyes have seen.
I walked away forgetting how much their color’s faded…or how those bags under Tham came to be…and excited to experience all the sights they’ve yet to see.
Deborah’s 50th high school reunion starts today…one year late
because of Covid last year it was dismissed…
but vaccinated and wearing a mask this year she’s attending
which gives me this opportunity to reminisce…
We were children of the ’60’s and early ’70’s…
We stood up for kindness…for peace and love
our symbols were the peace sign…the flower and the dove
We were children of the ’60’s and early ’70’s…
It’s when we first experienced war and killing and bombs
in a place many of us had not heard of before…in the south of Vietnam.
We were children of the ’60’s and early ’70’s…
We learned how our world of psychedelic and tie-dyed colors could quickly turn to black
when some of us who fought in Vietnam…never made it back.
We were children of the ’60’s and early ’70’s…
We were shaped but not defined by that war…
We were sure we saw the world a little differently than those who came before.
We were children of the ’60’s and early ’70’s…
and many of us would grow up to be
more independent,
more accepting
more innocent and free…
We were children of the ’60’s and early ’70’s…
And though it’s been…now…quite a while
We know…even if our taste in clothing has changed…kindness…peace and love will never go out of style.
We were children of the ’60’s and early ’70’s…
Who are no longer children…who have grown
Who now have lives and families
children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of our own…
Who when we think about the last 50 years
often pause and wonder how…
How we children of the 60’s and early ’70's
are in our 60’s and early ’70’s now.