Another "school dream". This time an English 4 class--Brit lit--seniors and I are reading Macbeth out loud. They are just several months away from finishing their public school years. They are feeling chatty. I am pushing ahead, reading the part of Macbeth and offering commentary along the way. I fuss--not too stridently. They settle for a bit. More chatting. I move to a student desk next to two of the more disinterested students. Some focus. More chatting. I address students by name. Less noise, more Macbeth. Then, more chatting.
I wake, grumpy. Another school dream? Damn, I think, still after 11 years retired. I know, I've read dreams are a way to clean out memory files. But every school dream I have is underscored by frustration or some level of anxiety. How much more does my mind need to clear out? I'm 71. Will this type of dream still be part of my mental landscape at 81? Or 91?
Will I still be around at 81? Even with 90-year-old parents, 91 seems preposterous.
Yes, such thoughts cross my mind.
A couple of days ago I headed to the master bath to grab a spray bottle of glass cleaner for the front windows. Instead I went into the kitchen and opened the freezer.
Yes, that moment gave me pause. More than a pause.
Unconscious desire for blueberries battling the conscious decision to do a chore? A serious senior moment? I don't know.
I do know I fumble now more often than I remember with keys, silverware, small tools. With pencils and pens, eye glasses, coffee cups. Always thought I had pretty good hands and pretty good grip strength. Now, well I'm not so sure.
Yesterday a woman who looked to be around 50 took my empty grocery cart: "Hon, I'll put that up for you". Nice, of course, but I would call her tone one of helping-the-old-guy-out.
It does occur to me that what I think of as defining news events in my life often took place more than half a century ago. JFK's assassination, MLK's and RFK's assassinations, Chicago 1968, the conduct of the Vietnam War, the moon landing, Nixon's resignation.
Obvious moments, some of the jokey kind. Body a little sore for no reason I can explain. What I mowed in 90 minutes several years ago, now 2 sessions of nearly 60 minutes. Time steady by the day, fleeting by the week, the month, the year.
Hey, at least I can still push the damn mower.
Ah, victory!
Emotions are a little less in check. Not that I've been emotionless most of my life, but I seem quicker to feel sorrow, especially for others. Misty-eyed unexpectedly on news that is not mine personally. Especially parents pulling children from rubble.
On the plus side, I rarely feel anger. Appears a waste of energy to me these days. Besides, haven't I seen most situations resolve over time? These, too, most likely will pass is the vibe.
I have a friend of half a century who always reminds me of his wish to live to 115. I groan when I hear this. Another 45 years--47 for him--I ask: Why?
"I can't imagine not being here," he says.
I think of all that has happened in my life since I was 26. Wow.
I'm going with my simple mantra that upright is all right. Each day. One at a time.
