Retired!
Upon giving notice to my boss on 9/10/15 that I was retiring, I decided to summarize each day, up through my last day on-the-job with one word: 9/10/15 Day of notice Relieved 9/11/15, Friday Shocked 9/12/15, Saturday Useless 9/13/15, Sunday Tired 9/14/15, Monday Affirmed 9/15/15, Tuesday Panicked 9/16/15, Wednesday Reaffirmed 9/17/15, Thursday Satisfied, then Scared (Oops!) 9/18/15, Friday Accepted 9/19/15, Saturday Happy 9/20/15, Sunday Tired 9/21/15, Monday Leery 9/22/15, Tuesday Speechless 9/23/15, Wednesday Cheap 9/24/15, Thursday ...
Oldness
If you want to be around oldness, go to an old-folks home. I started at a young age. A group from my church regularly went to Mayview Nursing Home in Raleigh to do music and devotions. My dad was song-leader so I went as pianist. The place smelled old and stale, with hints of urine and mildew. Not an easy place for a kid to visit. Most of the residents were wheeled into the meeting room, blankets across their laps, to sit with blank looks on their faces. So few of them sang along that it seemed our visits were more for us than for them. One man always sat by the piano, where he leaned his head against the old upright, feeling vibrations from the music I played. When we finished our program, he would extend his limp, clammy hand to me, mumbling something I could...
Reverted
“Do you want to go to the Titans game?” I looked behind me to see if the young man was talking to someone else but, no, there was only me, the old lady walking her dog. Three doors down from where I live is an ever-changing house full of young people. I don’t know if they’re college students or young professionals but on this particular morning, they were all piling into cars and trucks adorned with Tennessee Titans flags, headed to an early game and tailgate party. I speak to them often when I’m walking Prince and they’re always kind and respectful. But inviting me to a game? That was unexpected. “No, thanks!” I said. They waved and took off, while I wondered why anyone would want to go to a game when they could watch it on TV from the comfort of their own...
Clover
It was the stuff of celebrations, those little white balls. We had a lot of it in our back yard when I was small. Clover. Simple clover. But I loved it. I would throw myself into one particularly large patch, grab handfuls of the balls and throw them in the air. As they rained down on me, I would shout, “Happy New Year!”–a child’s version of fireworks that light the sky when each year approaches. I wasn’t the only one to enjoy the clover. Our pet rabbit, Cottontail, lived in a hutch that leaned against the back of our house. We occasionally let her out to eat clover to her heart’s content. She loved it…as well as the merry chase that followed when trying to return her to the hutch. We enjoyed our large back yard, with its huge patches of clover and space to...
Shrink
I forgot the appointment, first time ever. But the stresses in this season of life caused my semi-annual visit to the psychiatrist to slip my mind. I was diagnosed clinically depressed, with anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder twenty years ago, so I’ve regularly seen a doctor to get Prozac, a helpful coping tool. Surprisingly, the doctor’s office didn’t call when I no-showed. They did, however, send a $40 bill, which I promptly paid. It was several months later, faced with both of my children and their families moving further away, and nearly out of my wonder drug, that I called to reschedule. This is where the trouble began. “It looks like you were last seen in January,” the receptionist said. “No, I forgot that...
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