… a pathetic statement of fact by an old man waiting for whatever comes next.
Over the past few years my life has flowed, more or less, as nature and the Good Lord have always intended. Overall, I’m a lucky man, in that I still have some reason to get out of bed in the morning … other than to take another pee. This motivation centers, almost entirely, on my late in life fixation with a Microsoft Office Suite enabled desktop computer, a Lazy Boy recliner, and an extremely obstructed view of the North Fork of the St. Lucie River. It hasn’t always been this way.
I used to have friends and business acquaintances to meet with, call on the phone, or even sail off with on one of the boats I’ve owned at various times. I would act on the weakest of excuses to drive or fly off to some meeting or convention. Yes, I used to be a very active and engaging guy but I have morphed into an old man that just sits in one place and has begun to feel sensations of “self-pity”. I have resorted to touting, and then posting, a senseless little piece (like the one your reading now) on my blog site and find myself all too eager to hit the DELETE button on virtually every email I receive in response-“I just don’t want to know.”
Yes, my world has shrunk to just what I can see as I look up from my desk-top keyboard …
The view is framed by one of the extra computers that sits on what used to be our dining room table and a lawn chair that keeps a lonely vigil on an outside patio. The scene never changes. Exactly midway between the two, over the wooden fence and forty or fifty yards away, is the open water. My high points of the day come when “Big Bird”, our resident great blue heron, alights on the white table on the far point or a curios raccoon decides to climb over the fence. Between times, I have to be satisfied with the occasional passing squirrel or scampering lizard. The excitement that accompanies the rare weekday passage of a boat on the river is almost monumental.
If I were sending this message out to an assembly of convicts that spend most of their day gazing out of a small window between the bars, I would feel certain that my plight would be appreciated. That’s obviously not the case. I guess what I’m asking all of you among the aged un-incarcerated is … am I going crazy or are any of the rest you in the “Class of 58” in, or on the lookout for, the same boat?