End of Year Notes

End of year notes ..... 

• The past year has changed me. Several visits to doctors and specialists have eroded something inside of me. it's become difficult to think too far ahead. 
• It's become normal to drive around town and feel that everything I once enjoyed has either gone away or changed for the worse. 

I'm the oldest of five siblings ..... four of us to this point, surviving covid ..... two are retired and the other is very close. So why am I still working? Why am I so terrified of the R-word? I've started and am receiving both my social security and pension. So officially in some eyes (the union that I belong to), I am retired and working for fun ..... Oh, and extra money. But I have to keep reminding myself. And there's a certain freedom in knowing I could wake up on any given workday and decide I'm not going in ..... and then never return. I don't need to say goodbyes, a situation I've never handled well. And I don't need to notify anyone. 

• How could two towns that share a border and with a combined population over 200,000, not have a real record store?
• I don't look at the obituaries any more. And I have nothing to add to that. 
• My boss claims that he informed me beforehand of an impending audit. I swear that he didn't. Considering our ages, there's no doubts as to which story people would believe. Yet it's not something I would have forgotten. 

An Only Half Sincere Seasons Greetings

Another Christmas Eve and Christmas day have come and gone and it's so much different than it was in my youth. Just remembering most of the sixty-seven that I've seen and how it's been a slow but steady progression of changes as the years pass by ..... and that causes sadness. How it was celebrated as a child, teen and young adult with family all around and how it's commemorated now mostly alone. 

Last night, I drove by the house where I spent each Christmas for my teenage years and every Christmas for seven or eight years after I moved out. I could feel the yearnings to return and how sad it is that we can never return ..... not only to the physical house but the 'warmth' and spirit of those days.

I told someone not too long ago that I didn't think I could ever move away from this place (my hometown) but now, if I can't return to what I yearn for, then why can't I leave these feelings and emotions and go to where I might feel 'warmth' again?

And now that it's past, there will be all the: "How was your Christmas?" questions. And I'll hide these feelings and say that it was fine because no one wants to hear that someone doesn't enjoy their Christmas and I don't want to drag anyone down. But I always think: "Why ask the question?" ..... "Stop, look around and think about what you're asking. You can't possibly assume that everyone has a happy and joyful time, and yet you still ask." Or do they really want to hear the truth? Because if you ask ten people to answer honestly and not keep their true thoughts bottled up, you are going to find two or three that say it was just Ok and one or two that is going to say it was shitty.

So why can't the people with ideal families and situations just remain silent? Enjoy their time but not advertise it? And why can't they happily move on afterwards without reminding others about their less-than-ideal situations?

And the funny thing is that only a year or two ago, I thought I had made friends and peace with all these emotions ...... but it now appears that I was wrong.

Smoke and Mirrors

Figured out why I spend more time downstairs, and it has nothing to do with climbing the stairs. I just realized that the upstairs mirror causes me to look old while the downstairs mirror, young ..... well younger anyway.

That's some kind of magic!!

Maybe I should try making wishes to the downstairs mirror .... 

At the Bookshop

Walked into the bookstore today and was immediately greeted by a three- or four-year-old boy who was excited to show me the book he had found. His mom laughed and said hello. Me being me, I was tongue tied for words after returning the hello in a barely audible voice. 

Then upon hearing a lady inquire about a Charles Dickens book, I was tempted to bring to life the old Monty Python bookshop skit .... "That's Dikkens with two k's, the well known Dutch author?"  Found myself wondering though if anyone would get the Monty Python reference. But it went through my thoughts with perfect timing.

My method of browsing the poetry section is turning to two or three random pages of selected books and reading a sentence or two from wherever on the page that my eyes go to ..... See if anything resonates. And it's not just the words ..... The font and layout of the page matters. The book title matters. The publisher and book cover matters. The 'feel' of the paper used is huge. Hard cover is preferred. Books from the 1950's and 60's get extra consideration/ 

Anniversary of Sorts

I'm sure I've noted this in past years but didn't want it to pass by this year without a mention.

Today is the anniversary of the day I was married, 42 years ago. It didn't last and after many years of no contact and no idea what was going on in her world, I reconnected with my ex four or five years ago and now we text and touch bases every few months.   

What else is there to say? I obviously wish things had worked out. It took years to make peace with the hell of separation and divorce and with feeling like I failed.

I still have emotions that I have never been able to describe. 

But I survived!! There were times when I thought I might not. There were times when it seemed too difficult. I reached an understanding of people who don't take it through personal turmoil. I don't see it as a weakness. I'm proud that I made it through those times.

Dream a Little Dream

Don't let anyone tell you that the dreams get less weird with age .....

The latest .... A dream about running to and fro, back and forth, up and down aisles, wall to wall and then repeat, in a 'one stop' shopping center in a comedic but frantic search for ....... frickin' LAUNDRY DETERGENT!!

Now why the hell would anyone ever dream about that? 

But I did. 

And I experienced relief (Whew), when I woke up to discover it wasn't an actual pressing problem for today.

The Return of the Jump Shot ..... or Why Can't I Shoot Straight These Days?

You know how people play air guitar and air drums? ...... Well, I've taken up shooting air jump shots in the privacy of my living room with the curtains closed. All in efforts to regain the feel and coordination involved. I've discovered that it is not one of those things, like supposedly riding a bike is, where you can just resume at the same level that you left off at years ago. There is practice and learning involved in the perfecting of raising the ball to the shooting position while the knees bend and feet elevate from the ground in one coordinated and seemingly graceful motion. 

And I've lost that.

But I'm determined that despite my advanced age, I can regain the skill. And make my return. And restore my reputation .... whatever it used to be.

Because I've been challenged recently to a game of H.O.R.S.E. ..... by a fellow senior citizen, who has two years on me (he's younger). And I'm pretty sure that he was always more fanatical and maniacal about things like staying in top shape and holding on to his jump shot form. Though he was always a bricklayer in his prime and a threat to break backboards with his shot while I was a better pure shooter.

Not bragging there. Just stating facts.

Now and Then

Sometimes I wish we could return to our youth. I don't want to stay there but would like to have the ability to go back and forth on demand, between now and then. Maybe for half-hour visits to the past. To visit old friends. To hear classic music again as I did when it was new. To shoot hoops in my driveway. To feel excited about being in love. I could agree to thirty minutes each week of flashback time.

I wouldn't want to stay long. It was far from utopia. It's mostly the people that I remember and miss. 

Downsizing

My idea of downsizing ..... I threw out a compact disc. It shall go unnamed. I gave it a listen and didn't care for it. And I didn't like the cover version of the Springsteen song at all. Just thought the whole thing was put together in haste. I might be wrong in that judgement. But it's not for me. And it clears a small amount of clutter from my too-cluttered desk. Pretty sure that I'll never hear with new ears and appreciation, a tune someday on the radio or online and rue this decision. 

The guy that sold it to me is always telling me: "If you don't like it, bring it back and I'll give you full credit." I don't think he meant after a year though.  

Dream Number 10,326

Awake from a dream where I took dozens of photos from a series of rapidly passing and violent storms. Several where I thought I captured exciting images of rotating dark clouds, lightning bolts and a flock of birds caught in the fury. Photos that I was excited to get home and view.

What a bummer to wake up and realize there were no photos.

And during the dream, the scene shifted at one point, to where my mom was sitting at the desk in my bedroom, then back to the photo session where my brother was working on my car while I dashed around, camera in hand, with eyes on the eastern horizon. And when he announced that he found the problem, there suddenly was my father, sitting in the driver's seat of my car .... (He wasn't the problem, he was just suddenly was there.) Then another scene shift where I was in the car alone, testing out its performance post fix, on a long road (State Street), five miles from the photo scene ..... the road known to me in real life but with surroundings looking much different than I know them to be. Maybe I was back in the 1970's?

Whew!! Did I get it all documented?

At least facets of this dream make sense to me as opposed to my usual reaction to my bizarre sleep world.

And a post-dream question ..... Do birds take to the sky when a violent storm is overhead or do they seek shelter as it approaches?

Limits and Boundaries These Days

I have my limits and boundaries. Yeah, I know, I told someone once that I have no personal boundaries. But .......

Unless it's an incredibly treasured holy grail of a record, I've drawn a line at $35-plus, vinyl records ..... that's both previously owned and new. And I pause and really think about anything over $30. 

And if used, they had better be bordering on pristine condition. The ugliest thing in the universe is scratched black vinyl records. 

Yeah, I know .... Not the kind of boundaries probably inferred above but it's one of my pet peeves, making the top-5 list of irritations.

So, when I flip through bins of used jazz and blues records and just about everything besides 'Best Of' and 'Greatest Hits' records are $50-$75, well it ain't going home with me.