death

It’s A Wonderful Modern, Thoughtful Life

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Life. Take a pause and just think about Life. Birth, followed by death, disease, accidents, catastrophes, pandemics, and finally possible cognitive decline which renders it all irrelevant, unremarkable, and easily forgotten by your survivors.

Take a little longer pause. It doesn’t get any better, does it. In the quick moment you answer, you want to argue, you’ll say it does but when you pause and think…

This is not an argument for suicide. Or depression. Or giving up. It’s an argument for knowing.

One of the sharpest “pangs” of senior resentment is the “undebatable knowing” things could have been different, could have been better. I could have been a doctor, for example, and saved lives. If you take another pause and think about how much better your own life could have been well…don’t do it. Funny, how even if you’re told not to do it, you’ll do it anyway. Thinking our lives would have been better if they had been different appears to be a mandated process baked into our genes. Wonder if Mother Teresa ever felt this regret. Einstein. FDR. Bob Dylan. Clark Kent.

Two interesting stories in the news this past week might help us understand…something Two different people clinically “died” and then came back to life: Patient 1 after 6 minutes and Patient 2 after 21 minutes. They both had stories to tell. Patient 1 felt peace, light, and colorful beauty, including the “white light” most resuscitated patients report. But Patient 2 reported being approached by beings who “shackled” him and restrained him, resulting in them “harvesting” his soul as part of a “soul farming operation”.

Another story in the news articulated the centuries-old debate about the origins of life. When read in chronological order you can see human intelligence struggling to define the “how” of life while struggling with the why, what, when, and where surrounding the start of it all, as well.

Ai says “a prominent estimate from the Population Reference Bureau (is) 108 billion people have ever been born.” Subtract the “estimated” 8 billion people currently alive and you learn an “estimated” 100 billion people have lived and then died on this earth. How many do you remember?

So? This post has gone off the rails and needs to be euthanized as its point has slipped away. Like most of our “lives”, it began well but got sidetracked by “life”. Maybe that’s the point? Would be interesting to read comments from anyone who can make sense of this page. I personally, feel lost, but okay, as if it were meant to end this way. The post is what it is and I can deal with it. (Hint?)

As my favorite Doctor Steven Wright says: “I intend to live forever. So far, so good.”

But…nothing ever makes it easier, permanently, does it. Words of wisdom and thoughtful machinations* help, but only momentarily, like falling head over heels, today, for a lover you can’t stand 6 weeks later. (See Seinfeld: The Low Talker”.)

And the questions return.

Guess I’d better conclude with another pertinent Wrightism and see how long it lasts: “A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.”

Amen?

*google the definition for full effect. It reveals intent.

Happiness? Meh…

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Happiness. Bah, humbug; Ai says: “Happiness is a complex and multifaceted concept with no single, universally accepted definition.” After listening to algorithmic crap for 5 minutes the Ai voice settled on a conclusion: “it’s a mental state where positive feelings outweigh negative feelings.” There’s an algorithm you can run for yourself. Get a piece of paper, make a T Chart (also called a “graphic organizer”, “two column chart” or “Pros and Cons”). List all your positive feelings under the Pro side and all your negative feelings under the Con side, then add them up, subtract for the difference, and find out your mental state at that very moment. Remember, if the Pros outnumber the Cons you are happy, no matter how you feel. Trust the process.

You wonder where “happy” came from? According to Ai it derived from the Middle English word “hap” which meant “good luck” and through the years the word meant something that HAPPENED (or could happen) to you not what you felt about the happening. (e.g. Winning the lottery is “hap” and how you feel about winning the lottery is “happy”.) There is no known reason or excuse how happy came to mean a feeling of being fortunate instead of the actual act of being fortunate. Fortunately for you I wasted my time looking this up so you can sit and feel fortunate you didn’t have to do it. Put that on your Pro side.

Much like all the different “theres(sic)” there are, happiness is often misused and even misunderstood. If you feel happy you read my post, for example, does that make you happy all day? For a second? For ten minutes? Ai is, again, no help. Happiness can be: “a momentary, specific emotion like the joy you feel when something good happens.” Or it can be “a broader, more enduring sense of well-being.” Ai does not offer a judgment on well-being-joy being better or worse than momentary-joy when contemplating if you’re happy or not. Thanks for nothing. But if you have to contemplate if you’re happy, logic says you must not be, and if contemplating makes you happy, do NOT look down at your navel…unless it’s an outie.

When collegiate philosophical course requirements conflicted with the happy-go-lucky (Yikes.)  lifestyle of a young man, I retreated to an area lacking external stimuli. The hopeful plan was quiet reflection and meditation would lead to a clearer understanding of why what I liked to do to be happy might not be what what I should do to find everlasting happiness and peace. It took 52 hours for the mental fog to part, revealing nothing more than the need for external stimuli.

What saved that particular young man from perpetual Naval Contemplation while looking for “life’s:answers” about happiness was contemporary literature. In James Thurbers’ “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” and collected works, he noted the need for humor and a “Sense of wonder” when understanding happiness. Wonder? Yes. Remember how you felt when you first saw Niagara Falls. Or the Cathedrals of Europe. Wasn’t the wonder, first, that made you happy? For some specific NY sports people, imagine how you’ll feel when the Buffalo Bills (for non Bills fans, insert your favorite team,) finally win the Super Bowl. There will be a dizzying sense of happiness, but isn’t it the result of wonder? They finally did it! Wonderful. Some would say the Bills not winning the Super Bowl is humorous, as well, but let’s not get Western New York angry.

As usual, the post has wandered off to the side of the metaphorical trail, but one last visit with Mark Twain ( a HUMORIST!) might help with Happiness: “There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved.” Significantly, he adds: “To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with.” Not much humor in either statement, but happiness? We all know what he means…

So happiness can be like your first love: you’ll know it when you feel it.

And if it never happens? The only answer to “never” is an incommunicative death, which is what waits for us all.

But there’s hope. Be patient and recognize it. Happiness will follow.

Can’t close without a thought from (honorary) Dr. Steven Wright. “Yesterday I was a dog. Today I’m a dog. Tomorrow I’ll probably still be a dog.” Take 5 minutes to think before you wonder what it has to do with happiness and why it’s The End.

PS John Lennon’s song “Happiness is a Warm Gun” has nothing to do with this post. Maybe later…

Death as an Equation

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Several past posts have been about The D Word, but this post will be more objective, less emotional, almost dry, in discussing the impact of Death.

In youth, there was lots of death (sic). Pets died, farm animals died, insects got squashed, and fish got caught…and eaten. Very few of those deaths were looked at as Death (sic). Insects don’t deserve to live, anyway, and pets, well, pets came and went. Many dogs and cats wandered off the farm never to be seen again. Often, we’d find bones in the farm fields but never made any connection. At least the adults said there wasn’t any. The only emotional loss on the farm was when we shipped a favorite calf or piglet to the slaughterhouse, and as young’uns we didn’t actually knew what it meant at the time.

The facts of life don’t take long to be revealed, however, and around the eighth grade an emotion surfaced in talking about Death. What happened to Uncle Carl was defined as “passing”, per mom. It was her brother and a favorite uncle. He smoked cigarettes from packs rolled up in his tee shirt sleeves, drank, used hair product, and liked to lean on the hood of his convertible. In the 1950s and 60. He visited the farm regularly and called me “Sport”. When he stopped coming, it was weeks before I asked mom. She set me and my brother on the couch and announced “Carl won’t be coming anymore”, and as we kids pondered what we did wrong she added, “He has passed on.”

Death made itself known eventually, and we had some disagreements, but I came to understand and accepted it which was easy since my death was so far away. An early and now long-gone girlfriend said I was a great comfort at funerals. As a big, strong, quiet man woman liked to cry on me, no matter their age.

Now, an approaching Death needs to be an arbitrary factor in equations and discussions about End of Life. Input all known variables and solve for X. The word death meant nothing to the young mind and now means nothing to the old mind. In fact, Death, now, is simply the next event, the next inevitable stage of Life. Some of those were turning 13, turning 16, kissing a girl (thanks Cousin Debbie), buying beer, college, marriage, kids, marriage again, marriage again (Yes, sadly, not a typo), grandkids, and retirement. These were most of the major events looked forward to and anticipated. The first beer, by the way, was so bad, how could anyone drink it?

But beer might help with Death, if you think about it. I love beer, now, so maybe, after death…?

Naw. The equation aspect of death is a result of living. When someone near my age dies, and when someone older than me dies, there are two different equations: How much longer than the former have I lived, and do I have as much time left, as the latter. I’ve mentioned before, the age of Death and how it had to be determined for End of Life Financial Planning. Mine is 84, the age mom died. Dad died at 51, so…

The Death Equation became harder to solve when The Calamities hit. They skewed the values of certain parts of the formula, at one point even suggested a final solution, variables be damned. In sharing my experiences with friends/cohorts in my age group, it seems we all suffer something, eventually, and don’t know what to do about it. Sharing experiences has a warning implied, and several cohorts have learned of a new calamity thanks to the exposing of someone else’s old one. I learned about my new calamity, one I never would have suspected, from the reported trials of a friend in Florida.

Another friend has a better description of the equation: we are all old cars. Any car lover worth his clicking torque wrench knows there comes a time when it doesn’t make any sense to repair an old car. You fix one thing, and something else fails. Just let it go.

A recent afternoon text back and forth with a friend whose PSA is over 4 was about the worst calamity to get in old age. My choice: Cognitive Impairment (CI). Cancer, Arthritis, AMD, none seem as bad as CI. But later, as I thought about all this, I asked myself: what if I had Ci, would I not have Death to think about?

No one knows. Or at least has ever mentioned anything.

Maybe I’ll look up that Psychic I dated in the 70s…as long as she doesn’t mention marriage, again…

Personal Things. Look Away, if you can

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Older friends have been lamenting being older. Whenever I’m around these conversations…well…

But you can’t change life simply by ignoring it. It is true we change as we age. And especially if we want the impossible: to be left alone and never grow old.

Sadly, the only solution is to not be around “older friends.”

But younger friends…well…

This past Easter was spent with family around the table. Not one was within 20 years of my age. Conversations swirled around things and ideas I’d either never heard of or heard of over 50 years ago. The constant juxtaposition was astounding. It created a hole in the fabric of conversational time where my contributions appeared irrelevant, meaningless, unimportant, and so, unspoken. It was as if there was nothing to offer.

But…so what?

As a young man I never thought I was the center of the universe, but I did matter. Life progressed, things happened, and then life started to wind down. As the “winding down” happened, life was adjusted, tweaked, re-defined, but in small increments. It was healthy, like eating broccoli in small bites. Anywhere the body was, the body adjusted and found ways to exist with some measure of happiness. Purpose, fate, bad luck, God, none of it was ever questioned for a purpose or an expected explanation. The main reason for the acceptance of change was there was lots more time to live, lots more to accept, lots more to adjust to…years more opportunity for hope and improvement.

So, imagine the surprise when you suddenly realize there is no longer “lots more time to live”.

This isn’t about death. For us as young people, death is a far-off rumor with an import never understood until you can figuratively see the whites of its eyes, and the realization it is inevitable takes a little of the sting out of the realization it might be here. And we hope it’s happening is a peaceful event.

But…does it sound like fun wondering if Age-Related Macular Degeneration (AMD) will eventually make you blind and unable to curse the Yankees? Or if a small muscle in the anus (the sphincter) will stop working and make diapers a part of your old age fashion? Is “dribbling” in your future? (Look it up, but for the “non-sports” definition.) Will the bad kind of plaque (Oxford’s good definition: “an ornamental tablet, fixed to a wall in commemoration of a person or event.”) render all these worries moot? Cognitive impairment: a blessing in disguise? Who knew? Even worse, under a certain age who ever thought about it?

Death, then, is not feared as much as slowly, incrementally, dying.

As young people we may have accepted the inevitability of death, but did anything or anyone ever prepare us for the inevitability of “dying”, losing parts of ourselves as if on some sinister, sad, stupid schedule? And without “lots more time to live”?

Give me death when it’s my time but please, fate, stop chipping away at life. I’ll die in peace, without complaint, if God will let me, but if there are other plans, that “schedule”…I’d rather not know.

Crap. That means avoiding old folks who want to talk about it.

Eh. I can live with it. At least until the damn beta-amyloid builds up.**

** Hope you researched the correct “plaque”.

Death? Again? Noooo….

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I’m having lots of trouble sleeping. You? The mind races with thoughts about SAD, Trump, America, Social Security, Medicare, apartments, homes, health, and an ex-girlfriend whose hurtful actions can’t be forgiven

At age 73, shouldn’t another word be on that list?

As my mind raced last night that word popped into my head: Death. Wide awake and ruminating away about everything except…death (small d, this time, see the difference?).

The realization mortality was not part of my late night consternation festival kind of made me happy. Maybe, pleased with myself is a better description. Death is a constant companion in old age. When the news reports an actor’s death at 69, or the retired sports star’s life ends at 72, one can not help but think he, me, is lucky to be able to hear the news. Going to bed isn’t accompanied by the hope of waking up alive, but it is a subtext, especially if dying in your sleep is your preferred method of reaching the afterlife.

Sidebar: All morning a thought from last night has been escaping me. An important thought, I thought, but obviously not important enough for me to get out of bed and write it down. In the above paragraph it revealed itself, so I’ll share, plus many thanks to my slowing brain for not deleting the idea and making me work for it. The thought: When you die in your sleep, do you know you’re dying? Or is death just an eternal extension of sleep? Imagine being shot or stabbed, or suffering from a mortal illness. You spend at least a few moments knowing it is the end, don’t you? You may even spend minutes, hours, or days getting ready for the final breath…wishing things were different.

After reading the sidebar, it appears Death/death did enter nighttime, cranial ramblings, albeit, in a Dr. Steven Wright kind of way.

Of course, the whole point of this essay is how funny the mind works so this writing can be accepted as cogent.

Okay, I agree with myself except for the fact “cogent” refers to a well-stated “argument or case, one that is clear, logical and convincing.” So says the Oxford people. But I just read back through this jumble and can’t see anywhere a “case” or “argument” has been made.  For or against anything. Does that make the entire exercise pointless?

Let’s go with a “yes”, because an answer makes a case, makes an argument, and my inability to focus and write an essay sensible and informative suddenly becomes indisputable. I knock over your King.

With a re-read and hindsight, this gibberish fits the style of our modern news, anyway. I’m topical!

And relevant.

The real villain is SAD. “Seasonal Affective Disorder” is a real thing. A long, never-ending winter in Upstate New York is the cause. It’s been over 20 years since my life was “snowed under” by weather that saps the soul, steals the “joie de vive”, and makes an Independent Liberal long for Florida.

It won’t happen again.

A Few of the Many Things I Don’t Understand

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Why do things fall from my hands so easily? It was much easier to pick them up when I was younger, so why didn’t they fall, then?

With a population of 340 million people, why do 77 million voters keep saying they “represent all of America”? Don’t the other 263 million people matter?

Where DOES time go? I’ve never heard anyone answer.

Could there be more than one “soulmate” in someone’s life? Follow up question (FUQ): How could a man get married a THIRD time without learning his lesson after the second?

Why does a person who does something stupid work so hard to deny it? FUQ (Yes, I know what it sounds like. Stop giggling.): Is it because they are stupid?

Why do we elect popular people for Prom King and President? FUQ: Are females just not popular? Are smart, intelligent, experienced candidates persona non grata? Like the television show, “Survivor”, are they too much of a threat?

A baseball player for “the other New York Team” will make $51 million dollars per year to play baseball. Is it a coincidence it is same amount as the entire annual budget for the city in Upstate NY where I live? Definite FUQ up: Could the player adopt the city and support us?

When someone says, “be cool”, do they have a specific temperature in mind? FUQ: Be “chill”? I’ve never been able to agree on temperature with anyone I ever lived with so…

Why do conservatives whine so much about “Main Stream” and “Legacy Media”? Isn’t Fox News Legacy Media? Fox is definitely “main stream”. Okay, Fox is lame. FUQ: Do Fox viewers know Fox was designed to be biased. On purpose. To counter other bias. Another FUQ: Do two wrong bias’ make a right? Do they offset? Should we be watching the cartoon network for news?

Why are sports teams so insensitive? March Madness is here. I predict two teams will fight like cats and dogs during a hard-fought, entertaining, exhausting game and when it’s over,…hate each other. In the old days (OD), in the YMCA gyms, we fought like cats and dogs and then went out for beers. Ah, the OD.

When did money take over the world? At least the American world. There are more ways to make money without making anything, now. They call it passive income. In the OD if you couldn’t shoe a horse, sew up as wound, or kill another man before he killed you, you were out of luck. Now, if you put some horse-shoeing income in a tax-deferred account, invest it in ETF’s, and sell high and buy low…huh. Maybe that is productive work.

Why does the body fall apart, wither, and die? FUQ: Is there any way to guarantee our mind won’t leave us before the body does?

Sorry about those two…

Why do all the people in old photographs look so unhappy? Was it their nature or the inconvenience of having to stay immobile long enough for the film to work?

Life must have been hard in the real OD. Thinking of how hard it would be, for example, to wipe your butt with a Montgomery Ward Catalogue page. Or a leaf. Maybe they never went to the bathroom. Ken Burns could make a documentary about defecation and urination. FUQ: How many people have died over the course of history?

Enough. It’s sad to write about some things…

Quanda what?

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Quandary: “a state of perplexity, or uncertainty over what to do in a difficult situation, a dilemma.” So says the Oxford Dictionary.

Ever been in a quandary? Near one? Seen one from afar? Picture a mime trying to get out of a real box.

We all probably know what a quandary is, just never knew what to call it. If it helps, picture our modern world: one, big quandary. Dilemma. Perplexity.

Our country mired in a quandary is not new. The Civil War, Viet Nam. Nixon. September 11, 2001. The Spanish Flu. WWI. WWII. The Great Depression. The last, final, episode of “Friends”. To prevent depression, I’ll stop.

Quandary. The Oxford people say it comes from the late 16th century Latin word “quando”, which means “when”. So “when” became “quandary”? Thanks, Oxford, for a new perplexity. They do add an interesting chart showing how popular “quandary” has become over the centuries, with a plateau of usage in 2000. What did educated people use before quandary came along? Mess? Dilemma? Pile of crap? And why plateau at year 2000? Has the quantity of qualified quandaries declined in the last 20 years?

That fact proves there isn’t as much “perplexity” now as there used to be. Early days were probably nothing but quandaries. Imagine the first sunset? Did early man/woman know the sun would be back in a few hours or was he/she in a quandary, wondering where it went? What about when he/she had their first bowel movement? Did they think their insides were falling out? Talk about a dilemma. “Should we push it back in?”

Perfect segue into Donald Trump. He is a Master Quandary Maker. How perplexed must Republican voters and politicians have been to support him in the first election, let alone the second. Did any 2016 voters face the “dilemma” of voting for the felonious Trump in 2024? Were they perplexed? Dilemmed(sic)? Quandrasized(sic)? Uncertain?

It doesn’t appear they were. In fact, a feature of Trump support is the CERTAIN, unwavering, unperplexed knowledge that Trump is…something. What? What is Trump outside of politics? Is he a fabulously wealthy man, born with a silver spoon, who has never worked an honest day in his life? The Second Coming? A taller, hairier Napolean? A spray-tanned Mussolini? Putin’s long-lost brother?

Let’s go back to the original: he is quandary. Unperplexed American voters have ceded so much power to Trump, why is he not using it to remove all quandaries from our lives? Or at least his voters lives? Why isn’t he un-perplexing our perplexities? Why is he doing what he is doing? Does he need more money? Power? Maybe he just wants a good pizza. Or is it Melania, the new Nancy Reagan?

I surrender. It’s usually years before we can accurately assess the damage/benefit an American President effects over his/her (Sarcasm.) term in office.  It appears Trump is trying to write that assessment, now, after one month. Or at least keep anyone else from writing it, ever.

It’s hard to know what to make of it all. It’s a quandary. For those of us without any power over rich, selfish people, it’s more than a quandary: it is a disaster.

Happily, yes, happily, I’m old, almost out of it all, another benefit of old age.

Hallelujah.

Pay Attention. Please.

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Years ago, I played tennis at a park surrounded by walking trails, swimming pools, and soccer fields. It was a beautiful place. One noticeable figure was an elderly, rail thin man in shorts and a backpack walking hurriedly around the trails with his two walking sticks swinging by his side. Why didn’t he swim or play tennis or disc golf, like the rest of us?

Socrates is given the credit for saying “the unexamined life is not worth living”. He said that, what, 2,000 years ago? Or more? But who does examine life?

I do. I’ve always paid attention to the world and where I fit or if I fit at all. My memory, is not eidetic, but details are noticed and often stick in my mind for no reason.

I watched The Price is Right the other morning. They have a game where a stick figure hiker climbs a stick mountain with every wrong answer by a contestant, until the stick figure falls off the top of the mountain and the player loses. That stick figure looked just like the old man walking from the past.

So what? As age has imposed its will, I’ve made adjustments: from singles tennis at a young age, to an aggressive doubles game, covering the entire court. Then to a doubles game covering only my half, and–at age 72–simply hoping to hit back any ball hit to me. At each stage the slow progression was apparent and the requisite adjustments made by design, with the knowledge someday…well…

When The Calamities hit last year, the requisite adjustment was to plan–and hope–for a life of walking. I’d always have my mobility, at least.

It was then The Price Is Right man from the past came back into focus and his reason for walking. I understood. And I am, now, at the stage of life he was, then.

One of the best things about being old and out of service is the extra time you have to examine life, to notice things. To pay attention. To learn. There is no longer any reason not to, except fear. But when I ask others if they examine their life the usual answer is “What?”, with the occasional “Why?”

None of it makes any difference, anyway. Whenever a weighty, important, monumental thought tries to invade my brain it also helps to remember this: in 150 years, everyone now alive on this planet will be dead and gone.

How’s that for examining life?

Dreams

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Its really hard to navigate life without reference points, even with great tools. Finding a goal or a direction or a dream becomes impossible when the shoreline can’t be seen, or the horizon can’t be located, or the sun is blocked…

“I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just going to ask them where they’re going and hook up with them later.” -Mitch Hedberg

“When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized the Lord doesn’t work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me.”-Emo Philips

“I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.”-Lily Tomlin

The fundamental challenge in life is how to live it. We NEVER as young people see a future of old age and decline. Never. And yet, no matter what we do with our life, how much money we make, or how much we waste it all, we all end up with the same simple lifeline: young, old, dead.

As we age it becomes really important to know where you stand, what your position is in life, what your accomplishments are, what you’ve done, what’s your legacy. And we try to manage all of those issues without any form of guidance. Any help. Parents? Its important to remember they are/were as clueless as we are, now. Bible? That would be a good source of guidance if it weren’t so loaded with violence, misogyny, homophobia, and patriarchy. Friends?

“I don’t fail, I succeed in finding what doesn’t work.”-Chris Titus

As the end of my time draws near, it is not a bad thing. My life could have been worse, could have been better, but it was/is overall a journey of few regrets and much enjoyment for the things and time given me.

But this logical train of thought is making me sad, these days. There is an abundance of evidence in the world that millions of people will never get the chance to learn the lessons life offers to all who live long, enough. It isn’t so much the casualty numbers from the many wars, or the horrific famine numbers from countries far way, or the death tolls of catastrophes to numerous to list. And it isn’t the fact death sometimes cuts life short. Recent stories of young people who died early reveals some of them learned something, found something, came to grips with something in the times leading up to their young deaths. What was it?

After 72 years the answer has not revealed itself to me, but there is an undeniable sadness around the loss of opportunity for others. Think of a favorite pet, like my Red, The Dog, from years back. What if he’d never been rescued by my family? In one of my books is a story about Superman. He has given up helping anyone because he can’t help them all. He’s done because he can’t handle the sadness of missing so many as he saves as many as he can.

I’ve been talking a lot with old friends and past acquaintances and the pain of getting old is felt even more when it is someone else’s, especially when dreams have been crushed, hopes dashed, lives not lived as intended. I want to shake them all and say “But you had a chance.”

It’s obvious why most religions offer some form of afterlife. It is a great comfort if you’ve lived a life without too much sin, without too much debauchery. Even if you did, Redemption is the greatest Christian invention, of all. But if we could step outside our own pain and find a reference point, a compass point, and then a path to our own contentedness with what we have done…

And, as noted before, someone I can’t remember said this: “There is a past, a present, and a future. My advice is see them all but live where your feet are.”