Skip to main content

Age of Reason

I think the older my kids get the more I like them. It was hard to like them back when they refused to listen to me, or when they thought they could wear a T-shirt for 12 days running.

Now even if they don’t want to hear what I say, they’re still old enough to listen and then tell me I’m wrong. I tell you what, the older I get the more I like getting old. Why didn’t someone tell me about this sooner?

You get older and you don’t give a shit about what your hair looks like or whether or not you should wear a sleeveless shirt. You drink wine until your teeth turn blue and you watch things like America’s Funniest Videos over and over again.

I am here to tell you whether or not you make mountains of money or cook the best food or buy the best car doesn’t matter in the least. But then again, this is all I know. I could of course be wrong. But ask my kids and they’ll tell you I’m never wrong. I’ve always stood by that.

It’s amazing what happens when you get old. It’s like I’m just waiting for the next great thing. I already know I can wear sandals and not completely clip my toenails perfectly. I can skip makeup and not care what anyone thinks when I wear a T-shirt when a blouse is in order.

 Basically, I now care nothing about what anyone thinks about anything I’ve done in the past or what I will do in the future. This, my friends, is freedom. And all it takes to achieve it is a few years. I intend for this to be akin to smoking pot for the first time or attaining the four truths. I have found the secret of life. It’s to stop giving a shit about anything remotely concerned with yourself.

You should care about other people, just not yourself. That’s what all that Buddha/Jesus/ Muhammad/Zen stuff is all about. When they say lose yourself they really mean stop wearing eyeliner and start asking your neighbor how their day is going. It’s really that simple. I may have stumbled upon something here.

For years I’ve worried about how to lose myself. I don’t know what that means and the whole thing has tormented me. I think now, in my advanced age, I get it. I should care more about not only all the horrible stuff on CNN, but I should also care about the people on my street, in my town, in my state, in the world. All those people who are hurting for whatever reason, they are now on my radar. And I’ll tell you what, I feel like my radar goes far and wide.

We’ve got to lift them all up in prayer, no matter who or how that prayer transmits. We’re all out there now and we all know each other through the “Internet.” If we’re this close and we’re all brothers and sisters and we’re all supposed to love each other, it’s way past time to take that to heart.




Comments

Deb said…
You, my friend, are a very good person. I don't read your blog regularly, b/c it makes me miss you too much. Also, I enjoy the hell out of it, and so I kind of like to hoard it, then binge read it, then get irked that Martha's Vineyard is so far away.

Popular posts from this blog

I might need a price check

So my husband Chris works three days a week in America, and I’m trying not to take this personally.
He’s commuting Monday mornings on the 6:30 ferry over to Cape Cod, where he works at an upholstery shop in Hyannis, the Mattydale of Cape Cod, for all you Syracuse readers. I stay here and hold down the fort, cooking up a cocktail of frozen pizzas and mac n’ cheese weeknights for my poor Danny. Chris comes back late Thursday night, all giddy over toilet paper prices and quotes on cheaper rent.
No, no, no, and more no I say. I can’t possibly leave all this off-season quiet and high-priced laundry detergent. There’s no convincing me to leave no matter how many times Chris points out that there’s a Trader Joe’s “over there.”
I want to stay here until I miraculously win on one of those $5 scratchers and can buy my own house here. The difference being that I feel confident that I will someday scratch my way to freedom while Chris thinks we’d be smarter to look into a nice rental “over there.…

Library lady

So today a co-worker who is — let’s just be honest here — 70 years old, gave me a serious run for my money at the library. Some guy was looking for a specific movie, which just happened to be located on the very bottom shelf, and I did one of those pretend searches for it on the middle shelf. She walks over and squats down like she’s going to give birth in some Third World country and finds it in two seconds. Again, here we are. Now I’m at home tearing open the cardboard box of a frozen pizza and she’s obviously at home on a rubber mat touching her big toe to her nose.      I regularly call the doctor to renew my prescription for muscle relaxers, while it seems like the rest of the women on this ridiculously fit island drink hot tea and take a warm bath for their yoga-stressed muscles. Thank God my teeth are relatively good.
     It’s not easy to work with women your age and older who think nothing of drinking spinach shakes and lugging all kinds of crap around. If I tried half the…

Getting well takes baby steps

So I’ve had what you could call a case of the pneumonia. It was not pleasant. And to top it off it happened in San Antonio, Texas. Like I wasn’t sweating before the fever.
I was there to see my niece Michelle, who by the way kept asking me, “Are you going to write about this?” which is funny because she’s a writer too. I naturally said, “Oh no, of course not.” And here we are.
Thinking back, the best part of that trip teeters between meeting my two great-nephews, Oliver and Isaac, and having a couple of beers with their Yaya, my sister, who I haven’t had beers with in decades. Like I said, it’s a toss-up. There’s also the fact that I got to spend time with my niece’s husband Alex. He’s a hardcore military guy. He teaches other military guys how to be military policemen. I’m not going to gamble on writing anything about him. He’s from Wisconsin though, which I like. And he likes to cook, which I also like.
I thought to myself before I ever left my nice cocoon of Martha’s Vineyard to tra…