Saturday, July 21, 2007
try to be ready - Saturday, July 21, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park
14C/57F(high 25C), clear, warm sun on my back, Gusta seems to be shedding a puppy equivalent each day, we walked the ridge path and back again, lap-dog walkers out if force, holding Gusta back strains my back . . earth moving machines groan and bounce across the road, they’ve vanished my silence, beeping in reverse, changing direction on whims
WT, thanks for those kind words; I am but one part of a complex equation – I’m ready to get into the lab, ready to experiment – to see what happens, but that also requires some choices and actions by someone I scarcely know; I am hopeful guy, glass is half-full guy wishing to explore someone quite remarkable, I’ll try to be ready
we talk about directions in life – the ones I’ve taken, the ones he didn’t permeate most of our lunch talks when we get together; we talk about family, incidentals, the condo-board’s antics, about who died and who will soon, about this Dr. appointment or that one, which pill is for what ailment – his memory sharp, his interests clear – we always return to discussing how people function, how we function, how we are different, how we are so much the same; I treasure the time we spend knowing there will be a day when that chapter is over – his life makes me smile and laugh far more than it makes me cry, I’ll try to be ready
luck has nothing to do with it, but I feel so lucky; my dad leaves 85 years behind him today, embarks on his 86th year of life; we’ll do some shopping, have a lunch together (he just called to confirm!) . . we’ll laugh and he’ll be sporting a broad smile that never shows a tooth, a broad smile that tells me he is happy; we’ll go shopping for his birthday gift - his wish is for a corset to support his paining back; I can do that, happy to do that – he’s done so much for me, spending this 85 years being who he is – who he was, not someone else’s notion of who we was or ought to be; he looks at life from a place nearer the end of it all, my vantage point feels more like the middle – is the middle – had better be the middle
there was no path laid out for me or most of my generation individually but there was an example to follow; it was the style of his generation, displayed for our generation to follow – as had been the case of so many generations before; for a while I followed a traditional path, a safe path, the one I thought was expected of me – as did most boomer age folks, my generation; but I went off the path – and I’m still off the path, off course of course – I’ve been working hard at exploring the ditches, the rough, the un-trodden places where the most incredible experiments take place with the most incredible of people; never knowing what I might encounter, I’ll try to be ready
some people can sit quietly, reflecting, choosing their moments, acting only after careful deliberation – I’m not one of those; oh sure, I reflect and choose, but I tend to more impulsively act, react, speak, move, do, try – missing my mark as often as I hit it, never knowing what will come my way next, always, I’ll try to be ready
rarely do we get what we want, when we want it, in the form we want it, gift wrapped and tied with a bow – life is pretty, life is ugly, life is lived between bookends, played out on the field between the goal posts for the world to see, life is Saturday morning . . life is Saturday night, life is a road where things sometime back up and hit us without a warning beep, life is modern, life is old fashioned, life makes me smile and laugh far more than it makes me cry, I’ll try to be ready
Mark Kolke
223,368
202.0
What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
14C/57F(high 25C), clear, warm sun on my back, Gusta seems to be shedding a puppy equivalent each day, we walked the ridge path and back again, lap-dog walkers out if force, holding Gusta back strains my back . . earth moving machines groan and bounce across the road, they’ve vanished my silence, beeping in reverse, changing direction on whims
WT, thanks for those kind words; I am but one part of a complex equation – I’m ready to get into the lab, ready to experiment – to see what happens, but that also requires some choices and actions by someone I scarcely know; I am hopeful guy, glass is half-full guy wishing to explore someone quite remarkable, I’ll try to be ready
we talk about directions in life – the ones I’ve taken, the ones he didn’t permeate most of our lunch talks when we get together; we talk about family, incidentals, the condo-board’s antics, about who died and who will soon, about this Dr. appointment or that one, which pill is for what ailment – his memory sharp, his interests clear – we always return to discussing how people function, how we function, how we are different, how we are so much the same; I treasure the time we spend knowing there will be a day when that chapter is over – his life makes me smile and laugh far more than it makes me cry, I’ll try to be ready
luck has nothing to do with it, but I feel so lucky; my dad leaves 85 years behind him today, embarks on his 86th year of life; we’ll do some shopping, have a lunch together (he just called to confirm!) . . we’ll laugh and he’ll be sporting a broad smile that never shows a tooth, a broad smile that tells me he is happy; we’ll go shopping for his birthday gift - his wish is for a corset to support his paining back; I can do that, happy to do that – he’s done so much for me, spending this 85 years being who he is – who he was, not someone else’s notion of who we was or ought to be; he looks at life from a place nearer the end of it all, my vantage point feels more like the middle – is the middle – had better be the middle
there was no path laid out for me or most of my generation individually but there was an example to follow; it was the style of his generation, displayed for our generation to follow – as had been the case of so many generations before; for a while I followed a traditional path, a safe path, the one I thought was expected of me – as did most boomer age folks, my generation; but I went off the path – and I’m still off the path, off course of course – I’ve been working hard at exploring the ditches, the rough, the un-trodden places where the most incredible experiments take place with the most incredible of people; never knowing what I might encounter, I’ll try to be ready
some people can sit quietly, reflecting, choosing their moments, acting only after careful deliberation – I’m not one of those; oh sure, I reflect and choose, but I tend to more impulsively act, react, speak, move, do, try – missing my mark as often as I hit it, never knowing what will come my way next, always, I’ll try to be ready
rarely do we get what we want, when we want it, in the form we want it, gift wrapped and tied with a bow – life is pretty, life is ugly, life is lived between bookends, played out on the field between the goal posts for the world to see, life is Saturday morning . . life is Saturday night, life is a road where things sometime back up and hit us without a warning beep, life is modern, life is old fashioned, life makes me smile and laugh far more than it makes me cry, I’ll try to be ready
Mark Kolke
223,368
202.0
What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
