The Roles We Play, and Accept, in Our Changing Lives!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:        The Roles We Play and Accept in Our Changing Lives!

One might suppose, if one is in one's GeezerHood, it could be a bit dangerous to become overly contemplative in times of quiet.  Non-productive, possibly even foolish thoughts might tend to flood one's consciousness.  

However, inasmuch as we've started this conversation, may as well plow ahead.  Certain metaphors -- or are they similes? -- spring into the cerebellum like.................................

 Mystic Pronghorns.  (Please see image, above!)  A chain, for example, can have many links, but still it is a single entity.  A tree sprouts a great many branches, but remains a single unit of living flora.  A Venetian blind contains many adjustable slats, but the whole is one thing, one product...  You get the idea, eh?

You see where I'm going with this nonsense?  (I wish I did!!?).  A human being has many

parts and many roles; it's the latter, life's many roles, that leads us into a more interesting discussion.  (One might suppose that "interesting" could be a bit of a presumption, depending on how this meandering plays out!)

When born I became a child of parents.  In the passage of time I realized I was also a brother to a sister and a brother, (the latter a bigger and stronger entity who'd pay me a dime or a quarter if, when he practiced his jujitsu on me, I would become the injured party, so to speak.  Not sure if he ever paid off!  Not really important in the scheme of this dissertation...  but I digress!...)

Next, student in a class full of students, then member of the US military services in a squadron or a flight or a phalanx full of a "GI's."  Student again in a university setting...  lots of different classrooms with instruction in many different disciplines.  Friend, companion, confidant, member of society in general, one who, with a certain degree of intelligence and understanding,  is able to accept and embrace diversity, making friends with those of different beliefs, colors and creeds.  

Then, on to what many consider the more important roles in the fascinating diversity of one's lifetime.  Marriage partner, father, uncle, grandfather, granduncle, great granduncle...  Paternal and avuncular roles can be critical, and crucial, to those over whom we have influence!

Where we going with this?  Each of us, I believe, is a composite of many different parts, possibly many different stages of life, even, I guess, many different or changing personalities or identities.  Was I a compete idiot as a teenager?  Quite possibly.  Do people improve with age, like cheese or wine or fruit pies or leftovers from a holiday feast?  Hmmm...  a ponderous question, indeed!  One hopes the answer is "YES"!

I'd like to think that we human beings actually do become our better selves as we age, as we grow in maturity and experience.  Parents seem to improve as grandparents. Although their children may disagree when grandparents return grandchildren to their parents, the kids wired and crazed with sugary treats, and overly stimulated with rough play as grandparents regress into childlike foolishness.  (Better selves, better angels?)

So what's the point?  I don't know...  Life is a series of stages and roles and change, of course.  As the brilliant Carl Jung suggests, "Life behaves as if it goes on (and on forever)"...  It's the illusion of immortality, something many if not most share, at least when we're young...  in middle life...  or even older and healthy...!  And we as human beings have the capacity to accept our varying roles, we have the power to change and enrich our lives if we choose to do so...  possibly the best path or direction or trajectory a human life can pursue (follow?)!  Change!  Change for the better!  Improve with time, but only if the changing road we travel is paved with the macadam of our better selves.   

I guess we all continue to evolve, if we're fortunate enough to live long and productive lives.  Sadly, so many lack that good fortune that allows the "blessed" among us to enjoy our roles, accept them, and change, grow in wisdom and improve, while pursuing knowledge and truth along the way.

(Dedicated to my beautiful and talented nuclear and extended family.  Thank you and Good Morrow...  Happy Days Ahead as well!)       

Humbly Submitted 08-30-2023 --  Joel K.

        

"What was That You Said...?"

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:    "What was That You Said?...   or the 'Simple Joys' of Geezerhood!"

Prior to reaching the age of 40 or so, we humans tend to exist in a bubble that is sometimes slightly diaphanous, more often entirely opaque.  That is to say, in our callow youth, we often lack the vision to see beyond our own limited experience.  We tend to be unable to project ourselves out of the youthful moment of our 20-something or 30-something spheres of experience, not yet having surrendered the illusions of youthful immortality, intellectual and physical perfection.  Thus, the young are frequently disinclined to empathize with the more aged segment of the body politic, but rather tend to enjoy deriving humor from those a generation or two beyond their own, particularly those within the grasp of incipient sensory malfunction.

Here's a case in point:  When my wife's parents were traveling by train to some, now forgotten, destination in the western states, her father turned to her mother and whispered something.  Her reply:  "What did you say, honey?"  He repeated himself in a slightly louder whisper.  "What?" she responded again.  He increased the volume a second time, to which she replied,  "Apple pie?"  

"Oh for god's sake, Alma, why would I have to whisper 'apple pie'?"  And then he repeated the statement in a loud voice, amid the stares and whispers of nearby fellow passengers, "I have to go potty!"  ("Alma" was a kind of silly "pet name" for his wife.)    

The story became a favorite among the family, and was told and retold repeatedly, engendering considerable mirth, while both storytellers and listeners nodded in knowing assent, affirming the challenges of advancing age and the sensory defects that often accompany.  "Oh my...  tsk, tsk...  poor old dears, but really quite funny..." among other sighs and laments rolling along on a generous stream of laughter.

But things change and tables turn.  Retribution knocks upon the door, a specter armed with white paint, a bucket of wrinkles, joint pain, flab, dentures, bunions and other transformative birdshot.  There are two episodes I recall in somewhat recent history attesting to my own sensory challenges.  

I'm in a restaurant with my wife and daughters.  The server arrives and begins her introductory oration using the most extreme "Valley Girl" intonations.  She offers her name.  "Johnny?" I quiz.
"Dad, her name's Jenny," my older daughter corrects.  The server announces the day's special.
"Baronial chicken?" I ask, seeking clarification and detail. 
"It's brown ale chicken," my younger daughter amends.  Amid the barely stifled laughter of my wife and children, the server continues to announce the day's menu choices, none of which I hear clearly or understood.  I order a turkey burger.  

More recently, I'm on a toll-free telephone line speaking to a live representative of one of the online hotel-booking sites.  In my daughter's home, the dining room is filled with friends and relatives, all discussing an upcoming wedding for which I'm attempting to engage a room.  The chatter is spirited, a bit loud, conversation flitting and circling like a flock of hungry pigeons.  The customer service agent is speaking with an unusual accent.  "What?  What?" I say.  "What...  could you repeat that, a bit louder?  Did you say the 'Hotel Frimary'?  How are we spelling that?  Oh, oh, I see.  I'm sorry.  Primary.  You want the primary card holder.  You want my name?  You want me to spell my name?"  The laughter is intense, making it even harder to hear.  "Oh, what the hell's the difference," I say in a muted voice.  "I can't hear anything anyway."

A typical conversation with my wife:  "Sweetheart, you want me to pause this thing?  What?  Shall I stop the program until you're finished with what you're doing?  What did you say?"  I walk into the kitchen, repeating my question.
"No need," she says.
"We have no seed?" I say.
"I heard what you asked the first time," she says.  "Do not stop the program.  I'm almost done!"  She's a bit exasperated.
"You're cooking something?" I ask.
"With the dishes," she shouts.  "Go sit down and watch the program; you can fill me in.  Whoever told you your hearing's fine is a lunatic!"  She's speaking quite loudly.  I say nothing more, but wonder if she's cooking something that requires filling.  I go back to the television.  I can't find the volume button...

There are vision issues too, of course.  I see words on billboards that become different words when I'm closer.  My knees and shoulders have apparent dice games going on inside them...  But, mustn't grumble.  I'm still able to find my mouth with a large spoonful of mush...    

Sometimes, I try to project my thoughts back in time to those occasions on which I was less than sympathetic and understanding to the senior population of my own acquaintanceship.  I consider calling to apologize if the parties in question aren't actually dead.  I admonish myself for my lack of compassion.  But then I think, "Oh, what the hell.  The cycles of life are circular, and now I'm the object of amusement, ridicule and scorn by the younger set."  So I guess life has its own method of reconciliation.  My wife is shouting something from the other room.  "What was that you said, Sweetheart?...  The doorbell is leaking?..."  

(Special Note of Attribution and Gratitude:   The perpetrator of this Blog extends enormous thanks to his dearest friend and great love of 40-plus years, Sweetheart, for suggesting the subject matter of this edition, for having an exceptional sense of humor, for putting up with her husband for so many years, for raising two extraordinary daughters with equally exceptional senses of humor!) 

Humbly Submitted, 06-07-14 -- Joel K.