Saturday, September 29, 2012

Life's little journey and other random thoughts

Just sitting here listening to my arteries hardening and thinking about life. Where have I been and the not so thought about where I'm going. The latter is an easy answer but no one wants to think about the dirt nap that awaits them. There comes a point where it's just no fun anymore. All things come and are appreciated at just the right time. Digging through the cobwebs of memories we think back. What great anticipations had true meanings and delights. Halloween was always a start for long lost fond memories. The afternoon air turned crisp with falls arrival. Constructions of paper jack-o-lanterns were always a fun diversion from arithmetic and reading. Wax lips and wondering who would get the most chocolate bars was always a focus. A two cent memory will always be buried deep in childhood thoughts. But it's the intensity of the experience that wanes as years pass. Who doesn't recall with great anticipation the coming of Friday nights and the base drum beat at the high school football games. Hoping with crossed fingers the home team could beat the visiting rivals. Nobody really remembers who won but they remember the dance after. The sight of girls dressed in skirts and stockings trying to look a bit older and as pretty as they could. Awkward boys trying to look manly and cool. All with enough hair spray and cologne to empty a drugstore. Never to forget that odd and fumbling ritual of paring and repairing with hookups and breakups with a lack of self confidence thrown in for good measure. There was the music that bookmarked the time. You remembered where you were and what you were doing when the top 10 hit the radio waves. And inspite of what our parents said it was all innocent really. It never turned us into some crazed monsters they said it would. And I'd bet their parents said the same things about their music and styles.

Then there was the anticipation of Christmas. As a kid that was like dying and going to Valhalla. Somewhere after the scads of college bowl games had finally played out when December rolled around it was cut out Christmas trees and red and green paper loop chains to make. The anticipation grew as the day came closer and the shops put up more and more decorations and played a litany of carols. The sights and smells and sounds were a near sensory overload for anyone old enough to walk. But it was the intensity of the experience that's nearly faded as years have gone by. Is it the juices, that combination of adrenaline enzymes and hormones, that intensified the experience? Could it be that once an experienced has gone through a fixed number of cycles that it's lost it's punch? Or is this just the result of aging? Been there done that but I may not remember if I did it or not now that you mention it. Always looking for the "new" but everything looking like reruns now. Face it there are only about two dozen story scenarios and the rest are just variations or so they say. What was once a happy anticipated holiday is just now a hassle.

What's left after the hair on your legs has fallen off and the hair line creeps back and slowly turns gray? And you know you're getting old when the barber asks if you want your nose and ear hairs trimmed. There's not much to look forward to unless a trip to the foot doctor is seen as a treat. So are we relegated to shouting turn that noise down and get off my lawn? No, getting old sucks so do yourself a favor and don't get old.


BBC said...

I'm not going to have any choice I guess, I'm fucking getting old, tripping up on 70 now. But there's things I'm looking forward to, more boating and camping, and shooting matches, drinking and bullshitting with friends.

Three armed robberies overnight in North Seattle, boy, guess it isn't safe to go out at night over there anymore if you're not packing a gun.

Demeur said...

Not too safe in the daytime over here either. We have road ragers child molesters and rapists running around.

Ole Phat Stu said...

Gettinh old is better than
the alternative ;-)

The Blog Fodder said...

Stu called it.
One of my girls wrote me on Canadian Thanksgiving Day. She was reminiscing about our family in decades long past. sometimes we all get lonely for something in our past, not that we would go back, but just remembering. A good post, Demeur.