Train of Life

 We pull from the station with a bump and a lurch,

Throwing me from my cozy berth,

And the rattle of the wheels on the track sets the beat,

And I try to keep up with my tiny feet.

 

We zoom through my childhood beginning the trip,

And I dance and twirl, and I leap and skip,

And with joyful exuberance, I prance,

Because I can’t resist the rhythm of the dance.

 

There’s pounding on the track, and I feel the heat.

Now the passion of youth sets the beat,

But the train moves on at a steady pace,

And I find myself swept into the maddening race.

 

But, after a time of just waltzing along,

I start to recognize that I am not as strong,

And I find that now I must use a cane,

To keep my balance on this surging train.

 

I see my destination up ahead,

The road has been long, but the light is red,

And I leave the train and the rattling track,

Knowing in my heart, I cannot go back.

 

And the train pulls away to the future bound.,

From the sidelines now, I hear the distant sound,

Of the rumble and the rattle and the clack, clack, clack,

Of the rhythm of the wheels on the Lifeline track.

Are We Obligated to Die at 75?

 Dr. Ezekiel Emanual, who is an adviser to Biden regarding covid, has previously come out with the notion that people really shouldn’t be living past 75.  He believes creativity and productivity decline significantly for most people after this age.   I agree with him that way too much money is spent in trying to stave off the inevitability of death.  But, I don’t think we have an obligation to die at 75 or shortly thereafter.  I can think of many people I know personally who have been and are very productive past 75.

There was a point in my life when I thought that if I was past 70 and needed a pacemaker, I wouldn’t get one.  I am 75 and I am still quite healthy and active, so if I was confronted with the question of a pacemaker at this point, I might do it.  On the other hand, I so wish my mother hadn’t agreed to one at the age of 80.  She was already in frail condition, although we didn’t know the full extent at that point.  For example, we didn’t know that one of her renal arteries was plugged resulting in one of her kidneys being non-functioning.  She had the pacemaker put it.  Shortly after that the circulatory problems in her legs became worse.  They were planning to do surgery on her legs and in the process of testing discovered the non-functional kidney and a partially blocked renal artery on the other side.  They decided they needed to place a stent in the renal artery that was partially blocked before trying to deal with the leg issue.  When they anesthetized her for that surgery, she had a heart attack.  Her blood pressure bottomed out, but the pacemaker kept her heart beating and she survived.  A couple of weeks later, she had a massive stroke, but the pacemaker kept her alive.  She then spent 5 months suffering and requiring total care.  In the end, because the circulatory problem in her legs hadn’t been dealt with, she developed gangrene.  I was caring for her in my home, and I kept her totally doped up on narcotics so that she didn’t feel the pain.  If she had been in a nursing home, there would have been more suffering and huge expense for care of lesser quality than I offered.

My Dad lived to be 90 enjoying woodworking in the basement until the last 2-3 years.  He was only in a nursing home the last 6 days of his life. My father-in-law worked until he was 96, and only required help the last 6 months.  He ran a charity that provided simple irrigations systems to bare subsistence farmers in undeveloped areas of the world right up to those last 6 months.  My husband is 77.  He still runs, plays pickleball and serves on several boards.

I now live in a retirement community, and I can’t believe the productivity and creativity I see around me.  There are some amazing musicians here…people who are still performing and arranging.  There are so many artistic endeavors that a fantastic new arts center is under construction.  There are people who go off-site to work at various charities….one of those is a home for boys who have bombed out of foster care.  An inventors’ club was recently started.  Women in Knitters Anonymous create items for 7 different charities.  Retired ministers go off-site to preach in local churches.  Of course, there are people in the skilled nursing and memory care units or those who sit in their apartments aimlessly, but the place is also a beehive of activity.  Many are still making a significant impact past the age of 75.

I think as we age, we have an obligation to weigh our decisions carefully as to how much medical intervention we seek.  We may not want to ever be on life support, but how many pills would one have to take before they ended up qualifying as “life support?” 

My concern is if we ever reach a point where the government or a panel of its “experts” make decisions for us after we are 75.  Or suppose instead of our thoughts being taken into account, children…even those from whom we may be estranged…get to make decisions.  Women have a right to terminate their unborn children.  Will children ever have the right to terminate their parents? 

Will the government have a right to deny care to those over 75?

Will we be obligated to have a big 75^th birthday celebration because it is planned to be our last?

Vitriol

 The sweet façade sometimes cracks,

And what pours out is vile.

Angry words spew forth

Splashing everyone in sight.

 

The rage felt toward one person,

Turns abruptly to others,

Who stand confused, as the acid

Lands and eats into their souls.

 

The great roiling pot of vitriol

Lies beneath the surface,

Waiting for an opportunity.

Do you feel better afterward?

 

How do you manage to shrug it off?

To feel justified in the rage,

The pain you inflict,

The wounds ever deepening?

 

Do you not know, the searing liquid

Puddles around your own feet,

Bounces back on your own face,

Scars you and those you claim to love?

 

When will you outgrow this?

Will you rage into the grave,

Trying to hurl your burning spit

Into the face of God Himself?

A Puzzling Situation

 As one ages, it is common to see recommendations that mental acuity can be improved or sustained by doing puzzles.  I happen to like puzzles, so it doesn’t take much to convince me.  I enjoy Sudokus and logic problems, but my favorites are words puzzles.  When I discovered that I could get a subscription to New York Times puzzles without having to subscribe to the whole paper I jumped on it.

I typically start my day by doing the Mini-crossword, Crossword, Letter-boxed and Spelling Bee.  I don’t worry too much about the timing of the crosswords and whether or not I beat my previous times.  I try not to look anything up, but occasionally the Crossword has too much that relates to pop culture….names of movies or bands or performers.  I can’t be bothered with a lot of that, so I don’t allow myself to feel guilty for finding that information on the internet.  The Letter-boxed puzzle always recommends how many words to shoot for in solving it.  I challenge myself to do it in one less than the suggested number, and I almost always can.

That brings me to Spelling Bee with which I have a love-hate relationship.  I find it frustrating that it is frequent for me to come up with perfectly legitimate words that are not accepted.  I will type something in, and it is rejected…no points for that!  I will then open another window and check the word by doing a Google search…yup, I’m right, that is a word, and I spelled it correctly.  Why won’t the program accept it? 

I found this so annoying that I emailed the contact at the NY Times and asked about it.  I was informed that they don’t accept words that are part of some very specific body of knowledge.  This explanation doesn’t really satisfy me.  Sure, I come up with words that may be science or medicine related, but often they are words that I think lots of people know or are similar to words that are accepted.

For example…octane is accepted, but not octene.  Muriatic was not accepted, but muriatic acid is used in lots of home renovation projects. Aorta is OK, but not otic.  On more than one occasion the letters available have included Y and O, but yoyo is not OK.  In a total lack of logic, in today’s puzzle “nite” was acceptable, but “tonite” was not.

ARRRRGH!

This might not bother me so much if not for an embarrassing fact.  I can’t let go of the puzzle, until I reach “Genius” level….”Amazing” isn’t good enough for me.  Sad, but true.  If I can’t do it in one sitting, I go back throughout the day when additional words pop in my head until I am satisfied.  Yesterday standing in the line to vote, I suddenly thought of “definitive” which gave me lots of points in yesterday’s puzzle.

 I might be an addict.

Normally I do puzzles first thing in the morning, but today, I went on the Prayer Walk and then worked in the garden to avoid the heat later in the day.  I started the puzzles before lunch, but I was still working on them after lunch.  I actually fell asleep sitting up on the couch with my laptop on my lap, and my hands poised over the keyboard.  When I awoke, I had typed an entire line of the letter “O” and Bill was laughing at me.

Oh, yeah…I’m keeping my brain sharp!

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

When Morning Dawns

 When morning dawns…

The clouds glow with vibrant color,

The world awakes from darkness,

The breeze blows fresh and clean,

The birds break into song.

 

When morning dawns…

The clouds will part and disappear,

The world will cast off darkness,

We will breathe an air refreshed and pure,

We will break into song with the angels.

 

When Morning dawns.

Grandmaster

 I do NOT play chess.  I know the names of the pieces, and at one time I knew how each piece moved, but I have never had any interest in the game.  I grew up watching my uncles staring at a chess board for hours at a time.  When I was quite young, my Uncle Frank informed me that I was a “smart little girl,” and he would teach me.  “No thanks!”  It was clear that the game just moved too slowly to suit me.

 I have two brothers younger than I am, who both played.  One still does and even goes to tournaments.  More power to him.  When my son was little, I played lots of games with him.  We would play softball, ride bikes, and at one time there were 57 board games in the house.  I would play most anything, but I did refuse to play football and chess.  I didn’t like Monopoly, because it sometimes took too long, but I would play it for his sake.

I have been trying to analyze recently why I don’t like chess.  Is it just that it moves so slowly?  I think it also has to do with strategy.  I enjoy strategizing when it has to do with planning something with a group or winning at something where I am playing against myself.  I even enjoy card games as a foursome.  But, using strategy in a head to head against another person seems to have a tinge of manipulation, and I abhor manipulation if it is an effort to one-up another person.

I know of someone who is a grandmaster.  He is patient when the game moves slowly, because he knows he will win in the end.  He does not plan a few moves in advance, but thousands of moves in advance.  He sets up the game not just to win, but for our good.  His manipulation is benevolent.  His opponent doesn’t see the ultimate move coming until it is too late.

Right now, we are in a chess game which, I think, is nearing completion.  We are in the end game.  The Grandmaster of the universe is moving the pieces into position for His glory and our good.  The enemy of our souls doesn’t see the big picture.  He is seemingly winning some individual moves…taking out some pieces…but soon there will be a checkmate and the winner will be obvious.

This is a chess game I can enjoy watching.  I stand in awe.

Lift the Torch

 But now, all you who light fires and provide yourselves with flaming torches, go, walk in the light of your fires and of the torches you have set ablaze.  Isaiah 50:11

 

I lift high the torch of my own accomplishments.

Of my talents,

Of my intelligence,

And great wisdom.

 

As I encounter the winds of life, my torch

Flickers,

Sputters,

Fades to an ember.

 

Criticism by others and self-doubt, leave my torch,

And my soul,

In a sodden

Miserable heap.

 

Compared to the torches of others, my torch

Is but a spark.

Compared to the sun

It is nothing.

 

I stumble in darkness.

 

But, into my hands is placed another torch,

The Light of the World,

He in whom is

No darkness.

 

Lift high the Light!

 

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.  John 1:4