Unfulfilled Anticipation

So, I survived the great (and rare) western Oregon tornado, golf ball sized hail, near hurricane force winds, thunder and lightning, torrential rain outbreak that was predicted for yesterday afternoon into the evening.

My survival aided by the fact that all we got was a super normal, generic spring rainfall.

Though I did find myself driving home, eyeing the sky in multiple directions and wondering if every cloud was the beginnings of a funnel cloud.

In the 24-48 hours prior, they had made it sound almost like the end of life as we knew it was arriving soon.

Some friends reported a tad bit of thunder and lightning.

But there was barely a whimper in my part of town.

Today I listened to the stories of fellow survivors, most feeling a little let down at the lack of expected and almost anticipated excitement as this event had been predicted and hyped for a few days. 

Sunday Notes

I really ought to consider beforehand, the degree of difficulty when pondering a new acquisition to hang from my walls.

On a semi-related note, I think I have identified my decorating style .... Post Modern Random Abstract Clutter.

Semi-related note number two ..... Don't attempt to carry more than one awkward handling, bulky item down, (or up I imagine), the stairs at a time. Especially if there's no one there to catch you as you fall.

Pictures and art are not hung on the wall to any precise measurements, spacing or specifications. But they do have to pass the, "Looks good to me," test. Which is very strict and demanding in its own way, except for when it's not, which is most of the time.

Looking Young

Wow!!

Yesterday, I was told that I looked young in the face.

I immediately began blushing uncontrollably.  

Good thing that the rest of me was completely covered in work gear.

Good thing that I wasn't attempting to claim my senior discount.

Good thing that it wasn't today and/or under different lighting.

But it was nice to hear. And it made my day.

Sudden Sense

Woke up in the middle of the night last night, after earlier hearing some not-so-great health news from my sister and had the terrible sense of being alone in the world.

I had to sit up, open my eyes and slow down the thoughts and fears. 

Hopefully just a false alarm. Hopefully we all (siblings) have several good years left.

Considering our ages, odds are that I won't be the last remaining, but you never know how things work out.

I used to joke that even though I was the oldest, it was my goal to outlive them.

It's not so funny any longer.

Running Man

I mourn that I can't run like I once did.

There's no pain or anything causing limitations.

My knees just refuse to perform the required bending.

I'm reminded of the Seinfeld episode whereas they are running through an airport, Kramer tells George:  

          "You run like a girl."  ..... no offense intended towards girls. 

The only time I even attempt it anymore is when I want to get out of the cold.

I used to be proud of how fast I could get down the first base line. 

And the voice inside of me keeps putting the thought out there that I can still do it.

But my knees have declared: "Enough!!"

And what is more comedic than a (almost) 70-year-old man attempting a full sprint?

Other News and Notes .....

• I wish I knew more words.
• The stray cat that I've been feeding, is waiting at my front door when I arrive home most afternoons, I feed it, and after feasting it vanishes, leaving me feeling so used.
• The co-worker has me figured out. He's observed that I can't wait for the office to clear out and the noise to fade away so I can do my duties in peace and quiet. 
• Getting ready for work each morning has become a 77-step process, packed into ten frenzied minutes, all choreographed to arrive one minute before start time. 
• My fortune cookie: "You could prosper in the field of education." Gee thanks!! I could have used that advice fifty years ago.

Unexpected Thrill

I get overly excited about strange and weird things.

Like walking into the used bookstore and discovering a jazz vinyl recording, that's almost as old as I am.

'Rhythm Crazy' by Jimmy Cleveland (trombone player) from 1959 on the EmArcy record label.

Attracted by the cover design and that it was recorded in the decade I was born. And also, that he's a trombonist. Excited to walk in the door and stumble upon vinyl that demands my attention. That's the main point for me .... that I unexpectedly came across the record. That's when life seems so cool and as if I'm being rewarded for my diligence. It was surrounded by choices, far more recent, modern sounding and projected shiny appearance. But I get excited about simple and historic. 

Discovery

Just when I begin to think (once again), that at any given moment there's no new and exciting music left to discover, I find out (once again) how wrong I am.

There are always creators out there with ideas running through their heads.

And it just takes one of those ideas to touch and resonate and get me excited again.

Occasionally it's even something old that's been given up on and forgotten and suddenly is heard differently ..... or at a different, more receiving moment.

Or with disparate ears and expectations.

And it's like the first time when you became excited about something.

_________________________________

At a certain point of life, you just can't think of the future too much,

You did what you did to survive to this age but looking ahead eventually becomes too overwhelming and intimidating when you start factoring in the age you find yourself at and the acceptance of your mortality.

You can do things that may help with the future, but you need to be grounded in day to day living.

Enjoy the current moment and look to (literal) tomorrow.

Card Mania

Saw some listings for a 1967 Mickey Mantle baseball card that I have.

$201 for good condition, $1145 for near mint and $16,500 for mint. 

If card grading is anywhere near vinyl record grading, then mine has to be somewhere between very good and near mint.

Maybe I should check out all my original Mantles, Mays, Gibsons, and other assorted 1960's and 70's superstars?

Don't know if I could ever give them up but could I possibly be sitting on a pile of cash?

I was dumb enough at one point in my 20's or early 30's, to trade two or three Pete Rose rookie cards for some assorted Yankees. 

At the time, I actually thought I was getting the better end of that ill-considered deal. 

I mean, I was getting two or three dozen Yankees after all!! 

To me, even an obscure, fringe Yankee prospect that never panned out was more valuable than a rookie Pete Rose.

And to think ..... my brother named his first-born son after that guy that fleeced me.

I started spending my nickels and dimes back then on card packs with the 1964 season.

Yes, young freaks, we used to get packs of five (or ten?) for a nickel ..... and with a stick of bubble gum included. 

And I still remember the penny or two more expensive packs purchased on family vacation stops in Montana, (along the South Dakota trail) ..... My rude awakening to sales tax.

Temporary Senior Blues Again

For all the yapping I do about it, I seriously considered the R-word for a few hours this morning.

Woke up feeling like dog poop and did not feel up to getting up, getting ready and going into work.

At the time it felt like top ten, one of the toughest things I've ever done.

          (May be exaggerating a little.) 

Proceeded to drag my azz (skinny or fat, I'm never sure), around for several hours.

Eventually decided that the cause stemmed from my cooking the evening before.

Four or five hours later, I was feeling semi-feisty (for me) again.

Why can't I be like seemingly every other person my near my age and just do it?? (The R-word that is.)

Why can't I just spell out the R-word?

Awake Again

Awake again I can't pretend ..... (Jackson Browne lyric from 1974.)

Awake from a dream that I was playing high school baseball.

And in, way over my head.

Playing against the South Salem Saxons. They had the reputation of being the snob school.

          As I recall. 🤣

Stuck in right field and warned by the coach that the batted balls would be flying my way.

He wasn't wrong. And I was playing much too shallow and reacting way too slowly.

Balls were flying over my head. Whizzing by to the right and left.

Batting ninth in the order, I had my first at bat in the second inning. 

I couldn't find a bat that I liked. All too heavy.

My practice swings were way too slow. 

In real life and in the loosely organized teenage summer leagues I played in, I was terrified of the left handers.

Afraid of getting hit by a fastball. I'd stand in there against the righties and bravely hack away but those wild-eyed lefties always frightened me.

To this day, I'm still thankful that two of the most intimidating lefties were on my team and I never had to face them.

          But there were others. 

And I've digressed .....

Of course in this nightmare, I'd be facing a lefty. 

But he took pity on me, soft tossing and quick pitching to someone he saw as an easy out.

I worked the count to three and two ..... mostly by leaving the bat on my shoulder and not swinging. 

I did smack a little weak liner ..... foul ball down the first base/right field line.

I figured the ump was not in a mercy extending mood, so I swung at the 3-2 pitch.

          And popped up behind the plate to the catcher.

At least I didn't strike out swinging .... or even worse, looking.

On my way back to the bench, I reached out with one arm and caught a guy who had slipped and was free falling down a steep incline. At least I performed one good deed.

I woke up before I had to take the field again. 

Give me the comfort of basketball playing dreams.

Even the ones where I couldn't make a shot weren't as horrifying as this. 

Why am I dreaming about baseball? I've never even fantasized about that.

And why the two things I feared most? .... Playing the outfield and facing a lefty?

Hopefully not to be continued when I drift back to sleep.

I wonder if the fit bit smart watch that I'm wearing, records the alternating moments of embarrassment and terror that I felt?

The R-Word Again

Another co-worker retired as of yesterday and as he was saying goodbye and shaking my hand, I had the feeling that he was regretting his decision.

Or maybe replaying in his thoughts all the years that have passed by.

His supposed moment of joy felt like he was consumed with sadness. 

I hope my sense was wrong.

I hope he's sitting at home right now, happy with his decision and mightily elated about a future engaging in other things. 

I get asked about it often. 

When is my last day?

My plan is to have no plan.

Because I really have no idea.

I don't want to admit that it's time ..... that I need to go.

It feels too final to me, too life altering, too much uncertainty about what would be ahead.

And besides, I want no part of a countdown to a last day.

No party, no cake, no goodbyes. 

(I think that I've mentioned about a thousand times that I don't like goodbyes.)

I want to wake up one morning, decide to take the day off, maybe extend it into a second day, decide that I don't want to hear my wake-up alarm going off any longer ..... and eventually just never return.

And I've currently arranged things so that in a position to go out that way.

          I do feel some joy about that.

Senior Discount Blues

Just once, I'd like for someone to card me when I ask for a senior discount.

Or at least look at me kind of funny like they have doubts in my claim. 

Instead, I get a cheerful and totally accepting, "Of course," in response.

Geezers have feelings too. 🤣

Another Saturday Night

Saturday nights used to feel much different.

It feels like something's been lost .....

     It used to be a stay up late, to 2 or 3:00am (or later) watching bad 1950's or 60's movies, listening to music, enjoying food and laughter and experience the different feel in the air of a Saturday evening compared to a weeknight, type of ordeal.

     Now it seems to be a read a few pages from the current book being worked on, get drowsy, lay down on the couch and fall asleep by 9 or 10:00pm (not later), then wake up at 2:00am, not having a clue what day or time of day it is, and totally miss out on the Saturday evening 'feel' type of thing.

     And no matter how much I tell myself that I'm really going to try to make an effort to last until at least midnight, I seem incapable anymore of doing so.