All things must pass, but not Paul (Ringo, OK). On a serious note, at 76 the losses keep piling up. Friends, great musicians, my health (I hurt in places I didn't even know I had), my beauty. And you start to disappear, except as the butt of stupid jokes about teaching grandpa to use Google. Quoted Maggie Kuhn before but she said “Old age is not a disease - it is strength and survivorship, triumph over all kinds of vicissitudes and disappointments, trials and illnesses. ...” I think that's true and kind of cool. You are not old, but you will be. I think what's surprising is waking up one day and realizing, 'hey, I'm old.' But paraphrasing Peggy, good things keep happening: my son starting his journey as a working musician, me publishing my first novel which is very very good and has gotten rave reviews, meeting new people, new experiences. "Life," as John said (speaking of loss), "is what happens when you're busy making other plans." Not exactly sure what that means, but then again, I don't understand Google either. Thank you Jane for your wonderful missives that, probably unfortunately at times, stir me to write something. See you on the 18th, 6:30, Molly's.
For you and any other Francophiles around Boston who might venture up to Portland, Maine, check out Standard Baking on Commercial Street. It feels and smells like you are walking into a Parisian boulangerie. BTW, if you overbuy, you can freeze bread for later use. Not ideal, but defrosted Standard Baking bread is still way better than most others.
You might also check out Harbor Fish Market on Custom House Wharf (only a few blocks away) for the best selection of fresh fish & shellfish. We bring a cooler of ice and freeze what we don't eat that night. Mmmmm.
I've decided not to think of things being lost so much as having enough volition and gumption to go on a walkabout without leaving a note. Leaving a note would be nice, especially written with a nice gel pen (mine are mostly wandering the corn plantations or another dimension.)
I would gladly lose every menu item gratuitously including something artisinally pickled (like my great uncle Tony generally was), in hostage exchange for the Oxford comma and semicolons.
Your mister is, well, 'present.' And you are brilliantly funny.
Before I even read your piece, I just have to say how bizarre it is that this song has been in my head since Saturday. Am I the new ERAS (Early Roper Alert System) AI?
You put into words something that has had me morose for some time, buy could not identify. All the losses, the ones that have happened and the ones "pending.".
You do not have to worry about AI
Though I get a chuckle out of some responses, the technology does not have a soul. You do!
As a 77 year old person, I found this post to be very poignant (and also funny; the breeches reference made me laugh out loud.) Here's what seems to be true for me about loss: Change is what inevitably happens, and surviving well requires resilience, which in turn requires the ability to notice all of the miracles, big and small, that still exist.
I am cherishing something that a friend from my meditation group offered as a mantra for both times of stability and of change: "Good things keep happening to me." (BTW, we are somehow going to endure your family's absence from SI this summer. XO)
All things must pass, but not Paul (Ringo, OK). On a serious note, at 76 the losses keep piling up. Friends, great musicians, my health (I hurt in places I didn't even know I had), my beauty. And you start to disappear, except as the butt of stupid jokes about teaching grandpa to use Google. Quoted Maggie Kuhn before but she said “Old age is not a disease - it is strength and survivorship, triumph over all kinds of vicissitudes and disappointments, trials and illnesses. ...” I think that's true and kind of cool. You are not old, but you will be. I think what's surprising is waking up one day and realizing, 'hey, I'm old.' But paraphrasing Peggy, good things keep happening: my son starting his journey as a working musician, me publishing my first novel which is very very good and has gotten rave reviews, meeting new people, new experiences. "Life," as John said (speaking of loss), "is what happens when you're busy making other plans." Not exactly sure what that means, but then again, I don't understand Google either. Thank you Jane for your wonderful missives that, probably unfortunately at times, stir me to write something. See you on the 18th, 6:30, Molly's.
For you and any other Francophiles around Boston who might venture up to Portland, Maine, check out Standard Baking on Commercial Street. It feels and smells like you are walking into a Parisian boulangerie. BTW, if you overbuy, you can freeze bread for later use. Not ideal, but defrosted Standard Baking bread is still way better than most others.
Good to know! I'm up there a lot, and will be there a few days post-cruise. I'll check it out.
You might also check out Harbor Fish Market on Custom House Wharf (only a few blocks away) for the best selection of fresh fish & shellfish. We bring a cooler of ice and freeze what we don't eat that night. Mmmmm.
I've decided not to think of things being lost so much as having enough volition and gumption to go on a walkabout without leaving a note. Leaving a note would be nice, especially written with a nice gel pen (mine are mostly wandering the corn plantations or another dimension.)
I would gladly lose every menu item gratuitously including something artisinally pickled (like my great uncle Tony generally was), in hostage exchange for the Oxford comma and semicolons.
Your mister is, well, 'present.' And you are brilliantly funny.
Before I even read your piece, I just have to say how bizarre it is that this song has been in my head since Saturday. Am I the new ERAS (Early Roper Alert System) AI?
Whoah!!
You put into words something that has had me morose for some time, buy could not identify. All the losses, the ones that have happened and the ones "pending.".
You do not have to worry about AI
Though I get a chuckle out of some responses, the technology does not have a soul. You do!
As a 77 year old person, I found this post to be very poignant (and also funny; the breeches reference made me laugh out loud.) Here's what seems to be true for me about loss: Change is what inevitably happens, and surviving well requires resilience, which in turn requires the ability to notice all of the miracles, big and small, that still exist.
I am cherishing something that a friend from my meditation group offered as a mantra for both times of stability and of change: "Good things keep happening to me." (BTW, we are somehow going to endure your family's absence from SI this summer. XO)