July 10, 2016
It's a pedestrian analogy - comparing the process of aging or maturing to turning the pages of a book - but I'm going to use it anyway.
Over my 65+ years, I haven't taken much time out to contemplate where I've been, where I'm going, or where I'll end up until recently. I was too busy with the "doing" part of life, usually on as many fronts as I could manage. That's still kind of true.
But, two weeks from tomorrow in 2013, that all changed. My measuring stick went from occupational to medical. I was diagnosed with cancer. The book(s) I had been writing and reading, so to speak, changed dramatically. The buglers were signalling a different strategy was needed. Time for a test that I had not studied for at all.
Three years hence, and I think I'm finally about done reading that book, although it will never be closed and put on the shelf. It will be kind of like the Unfinished Symphony, started by someone else, but to be finished by me.
In part 1 of this particular post, I said that I had spent about 43 years wondering about some stuff. The problem with wondering is, it's sort of amoebic - it just doesn't lend itself to a clear shape, form or function. But, isn't "wondering" self-imposed? It's certainly not like we are taking orders from the Wonder Department of HQ or something.
Tomorrow, I shall finish the chapters I've been creating as I have this foreign object in my chest surgically removed (chemo port). It's been there almost 3 years, and I've come to be fond of it in a weird way. I've procrastinated having it removed, as the specter of recurrence keeps popping in and out. I shall wonder no more.
The events of the weekend - all connected to the Phantom Regiment - have given me pause as well. Pause to appreciate the greatness of the organization I've followed for 46 years, worked for officially for 13 or so, and am back helping create a new iteration called Rockford Rhythm. Pause to understand---now--the depth of feelings I had and continue to have for the "phamily" of drum corps folks. Pause to be in awe of the talent which we saw in those "kids" back then, that grew and is now sustaining new generations of musicians, educators, administrators, volunteers, and more. Pause to wonder how the exhaustion I felt after yesterday became a torrent of energy today. And pause to pray thanks for the deeds - both seen and unseen - that have blessed me from so many of those I've come to know and love. You know who you are.
Every morning, I read from a great book called "Daily Strength for Daily Needs" by Mary Tileston. I read about it in another book called "The End of Your Life Book Club" by Will Schwalbe which I read with my mom during the height of my illness. Today's quote, as I bid farewell to the PR alumni, seemed particularly relevant:
As God leads me, will I go, ----
Nor choose my way;
Let Him choose the joy or woe
Of every day:
They cannot hurt my soul,
Because in His control:
I leave to Him the whole, ---
His children may. L. Gedicke
I was talking last night with a former marching member and I asked what he was up to. "I'm a band director in Minnesota for the past 25 years", he said. "Wait, there's a mistake", I said. "It was US who were supposed to get old....not you kids", I said.
There was magic in the house, in the air, and in the world this weekend. It seems like its pointing the way again.
SUTA!
Sunday, July 10, 2016
Will you still need me, Part 2:
Late January, 2016
Some years back, I remember visiting my parents in Arizona--long before I realized that someday those things that only happen to old people would happen to me.
At some point, after dinner, there was conversation among the "old folks", that-- dare I say--had to be tolerated by younger people, and that had much to do with who had surgery, what aches and pains were du jour, and even, perhaps, who had passed on. It seemed to me then that there were a thousand things more worthy of talking about, but these things seemed important to them. So I listened.
I must also confess that until recently I had not contemplated the importance of those of the previous generation, either in terms of wisdom, or knowledge, or that they wouldn't be around forever. It certainly has something to do with aging--scratch that--maturing, and beginning to wonder about your "legacy". Who, exactly, will give a r@#s A-- that I am not around, or remember much of anything that I did or was?
Now, especially as I am working on ancestry, I have begun caring, wondering, and researching those who came before. Mysteries appear--some solved, some not. For example, on a recent document I found a notation that my 2nd great uncle - Murray Winkler, a bachelor - was murdered in Iowa in 1928. Suddenly, I'm engrossed in trying to discover if it is true, where it happened, why, and how if at all this makes any difference to me 80+ years later. His obituary says he died of influenza. Hmmm.
My mother recently shared a photo album of her family photos from her childhood, that neither I nor my siblings remember seeing. Most of the photos weren't labeled, and so I sat her down, went thru them one by one, and wrote on the back of each. I realized that only she and her sister remain of the siblings, so a sense of urgency overcame me.
In addition to these mysteries of antiquity, I find myself wondering about things that seem inconsequential, but shouldn't be. Can I name all the planets in the galaxy? What's the capitol of Idaho? Can I recite the entire police 10-code like I used to? How many different cars have I owned and what were they? Who was that kid that played bass drum on 1812 with Phantom Regiment?[BTW, the partial answer here is "chemo-brain"].
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