Debit and credit. I want them balanced, or as nearly as I can make them. As I get older, though, the debit column gets more substantial. At 76, I begin to lose more things than I gain. I find I’m being asked to relinquish aspects of myself. I begin to realize that they’ve been on loan. Things like dexterity. Balance. Reaction time. Good vision. And, of course, memory. The loan officer comes to repossess them. He comes brandishing a list of physical and mental powers that now, officially, belong to him. They always did, of course, but I was under the mistaken illusion they were mine. They never were. I try to protest, but he simply goes about his business of taking things back. “Just following orders,” he says. “Nothing personal.” It is, though.
I get your point exactly, Richard. I feel it strongly. I'd also like to warn you that you are still a youthful (by comparison) 76. When you get to 80, in my experience, things really start to fall apart. I've just canceled a trip to NYC simply because the mechanics of transporting myself there, let alone pounding the concrete pavement and the marble floors (of museums) are more than my weakened limbs can bear. But taking a bold new step like the one you're about to launch is different--change, shifting gears, waking up in a brand new place, it's all revitalizing. Congratulations!
A painfully accurate metaphor. I keep thinking my old energy will return. But the repo man can't take my heart. At least not while it's still beating. And it's full of gratitude and peace that wasn't available to me in my younger years. I wish you years of joy ahead, Richard.
I get your point exactly, Richard. I feel it strongly. I'd also like to warn you that you are still a youthful (by comparison) 76. When you get to 80, in my experience, things really start to fall apart. I've just canceled a trip to NYC simply because the mechanics of transporting myself there, let alone pounding the concrete pavement and the marble floors (of museums) are more than my weakened limbs can bear. But taking a bold new step like the one you're about to launch is different--change, shifting gears, waking up in a brand new place, it's all revitalizing. Congratulations!
What a perfect response to the repo man. Young love. Love your words, Richard.
A painfully accurate metaphor. I keep thinking my old energy will return. But the repo man can't take my heart. At least not while it's still beating. And it's full of gratitude and peace that wasn't available to me in my younger years. I wish you years of joy ahead, Richard.