Sunday, November 19, 2017
You Cannot See All Of A Stick In The Mud
By: Donovan Baldwin
There are some who might think I'm a "stick in the mud", or set in my ways.
It's easy to think that about someone, especially an "old" someone, when they poo-poo something we find new or interesting.
What is also easy is to forget that an older person may have already tried that and decided they didn't like it, long before YOU discovered it, based on a lot of life experiences you might not have had yet.
Earlier this year, I visited Monterey, California, where I had been stationed twice at the Defense Language Institute, West Coast (1966 and 1983).
As I was looking in a souvenir shop on Old Fisherman's Wharf for a gift for the grandkids, I saw a bunch of small signs. They were the kind you can stick on the window of your car.
Supposedly funny sayings that might cause a laugh or a fight, depending on the mood of the other driver.
As I read some of them, I was doing the "old guy" thing, thinking, "I would never put that on my car..."
Then, I had a flashback...same store, 30+ years earlier. A younger me was laughing at similar, possibly the same signs and trying to convince my wife that I should buy one and stick it on the car. Thought it was funny back then.
We change.
I even once tried flavored coffee.
People who know me now won't believe that, but, I did.
Wild and crazy youth.
Now I know that Folger's instant is perfect for me and doesn't need woodchips or French vanilla, whatever that is, to make it better.
Hard to please? Not at all...as long as it's done my way.
It's easy to think that about someone, especially an "old" someone, when they poo-poo something we find new or interesting.
What is also easy is to forget that an older person may have already tried that and decided they didn't like it, long before YOU discovered it, based on a lot of life experiences you might not have had yet.
Earlier this year, I visited Monterey, California, where I had been stationed twice at the Defense Language Institute, West Coast (1966 and 1983).
As I was looking in a souvenir shop on Old Fisherman's Wharf for a gift for the grandkids, I saw a bunch of small signs. They were the kind you can stick on the window of your car.
Supposedly funny sayings that might cause a laugh or a fight, depending on the mood of the other driver.
As I read some of them, I was doing the "old guy" thing, thinking, "I would never put that on my car..."
Then, I had a flashback...same store, 30+ years earlier. A younger me was laughing at similar, possibly the same signs and trying to convince my wife that I should buy one and stick it on the car. Thought it was funny back then.
We change.
I even once tried flavored coffee.
People who know me now won't believe that, but, I did.
Wild and crazy youth.
Now I know that Folger's instant is perfect for me and doesn't need woodchips or French vanilla, whatever that is, to make it better.
Hard to please? Not at all...as long as it's done my way.
Labels: being old, California, Defense Language Institute, donovan baldwin, getting old, Monterey, old, stick in the mud, West Coast
Monday, June 05, 2017
Personal Thoughts On Being Old
By Donovan Baldwin
I am 72 years old as of last March. Although I have aged, and felt the effects of aging, I have never really felt old until the last two weeks.
A lot has happened in the last thirty years, a lot happened in the last six years, a lot happened in the last two years. While much of that left me sad, and, in some ways, scarred and bruised, I managed to keep going. I remained pretty much the same guy who had gotten through 21 years in the army, eight years driving a truck across the U.S., and holder of many other jobs.
For half a century, I have written poetry, articles, and, more recently, short comments on social media sites. For most of those 50 years, other than the occasional, "That sounds nice.", I received no real recognition for, or interest in, the things I wrote.
As those years passed, I grew older, but, as I said, not old.
About a year ago, I began to gain some recognition for my poems, thoughts, and comments. I actually began to believe that I had some kind of future, albeit a short one, as a writer/poet. I became excited and began producing more written works.
The best way I can put it is to say that I began to feel young again, and believe I had a future.
Then, one day, I was reminded abruptly of some of the worst things in my past. Metaphorically, physically, psychologically, and emotionally, I came crashing to the ground.
It took me several days to work through all the aspects, but, by the end, I found that I had changed. I was old. Not just physically, in years, but, for the first time in my life, I realized that I could no longer hold on to the image of a younger man which had sustained me.
I realized that I was now the old guy sitting in the rocking chair on the porch, watching the world go by. But, I was no longer a part of that world.
Oh, I still have things to say, and, probably I will not stop writing until I'm dead, or no longer to express myself coherently.
I guess this time comes to all of us, sooner or later. It's not a "bad" time, per se, however, it is a bit of a blow to realize you are not the person you thought you were.
I am 72 years old as of last March. Although I have aged, and felt the effects of aging, I have never really felt old until the last two weeks.
A lot has happened in the last thirty years, a lot happened in the last six years, a lot happened in the last two years. While much of that left me sad, and, in some ways, scarred and bruised, I managed to keep going. I remained pretty much the same guy who had gotten through 21 years in the army, eight years driving a truck across the U.S., and holder of many other jobs.
For half a century, I have written poetry, articles, and, more recently, short comments on social media sites. For most of those 50 years, other than the occasional, "That sounds nice.", I received no real recognition for, or interest in, the things I wrote.
As those years passed, I grew older, but, as I said, not old.
About a year ago, I began to gain some recognition for my poems, thoughts, and comments. I actually began to believe that I had some kind of future, albeit a short one, as a writer/poet. I became excited and began producing more written works.
The best way I can put it is to say that I began to feel young again, and believe I had a future.
Then, one day, I was reminded abruptly of some of the worst things in my past. Metaphorically, physically, psychologically, and emotionally, I came crashing to the ground.
It took me several days to work through all the aspects, but, by the end, I found that I had changed. I was old. Not just physically, in years, but, for the first time in my life, I realized that I could no longer hold on to the image of a younger man which had sustained me.
I realized that I was now the old guy sitting in the rocking chair on the porch, watching the world go by. But, I was no longer a part of that world.
Oh, I still have things to say, and, probably I will not stop writing until I'm dead, or no longer to express myself coherently.
I guess this time comes to all of us, sooner or later. It's not a "bad" time, per se, however, it is a bit of a blow to realize you are not the person you thought you were.
Labels: becoming old, being old, growing older, old
