During the past month, I attended memorial services on three straight Saturdays. This is my new reality at age 81 or, for you mathematicians out there, 34.
Witnessing the realities around the world and in America concerns me much more than my own mortality. Blood spills not just in the streets of Ukraine and Russia and Israel and Gaza, but right in the United States and even here in Maine, thanks to the spinelessness of Congress about enacting sensible gun laws. And, for reasons that elude me, Donald Trump maintains his stranglehold over the Republican Party.
Enough. Time to find ways to ease the stress and age with grace. Some thoughts:
Try to spread some sunshine. My wife Tina shines at this one. She’ll go up to anyone anywhere at any time and compliment them on their child or hair or name or sweater or smile or whatever. The world would be a better place if more people followed her lead.
Hang around young people. Let them know you hear them and see them and respect them. Cheer them on. You don’t have all the answers, but you do have a few. Be a good sounding board, not a cranky old goat.
Read a good book. One of my favorite books is “1,000 Books to Read Before You Die” by James Mustich. That book has put me on to several fine reads, most recently, “A False Spring” by Pat Jordan, a terrific sportswriter. Jordan’s memoir about failing to make it to the big leagues after getting a big signing bonus from the Milwaukee Braves is so much more than a baseball book. It’s about friendship and family and, yes, shattered dreams. And I’ve begun to tackle “War and Peace” by Leo Tolstoy, an epic of history and the human heart.
My mother loved the ditty, “Be kind to your web-footed friends, for a duck may be somebody’s mother.” How about being kind to yourself, even though you can’t do what you once could. I used to be able to run down the beach and do flips. Now I can’t go down stairs without holding on to the railing. And on and on. But I’m still here, still kicking, still looking forward to the new day and what it may bring.
Support the arts. The older I get the more I appreciate “the arts” for helping us know and embrace our shared humanity. I especially enjoy seeing young people act or sing, dance or draw.
Be grateful. Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, even when no one brings along a mince pie, my favorite. And I treasure time spent with friends and family on any occasion when we go around the table and share what we’re thankful for. Incidentally, I’m thankful for readers who take the time to send an email about a piece, even when we’re not in agreement on an issue.
Listen and really empathize. If we are to move forward as an individual or a nation or a world, we must leave our silos and get beyond labels and really get to know each other. To that end, I’m looking forward to reading David Brooks’ latest book entitled, “How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others and Being Deeply Seen.”
Celebrate our home state. At one of the memorial services I attended, a woman read “Ragged Island,” the magnificent poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay. It begins:
“There, there where those black spruces crowd
To the edges of the precipitous cliff,
Above your boat, under the eastern wall of the island;
And no wave breaks; as if
All had been done, and long ago, that needed
Doing and the cold tide, unimpeded
By shoal or shelving ledge, moves up and down,
Instead of in and out; …”
In my mind, that’s a good way to celebrate the ending of a life or a column on aging with grace.
(Reminder: Try to attend St. Paul’s amazing annual Christmas Fair on from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. Saturday, Dec. 2. Every dollar goes to local nonprofits.)
David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary and suggestions for future “Just a Little Old” columns at dtreadw575@aol.com
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