Where have I been? Why haven’t I posted in so long?

Such great questions. I owe an answer, yet I don’t think I’m the one you can ask.

Instead, ask the appliances, furnace, electrical connections, plumbing, and roof of my house. They will tell you how they all met one night under a full moon and decided to go haywire one by one, over the course of the past several months (continuing today).

Ask the gremlins that cause people I care very much about to have a disease, dementia, and other conditions that break my heart and steal my mental energy.

Ask the unpredictability of a work schedule that, even after 44 years (30 years as an independent), still can throw a wrench in the best of plans.

Not that I’m making excuses. I should still be able to turn out insight, humor, compassion, and even a little propaganda. But I confess that weariness does get the best of me sometimes.

You ever feel that way? Astonished at how tired you are? Wondering why it seems to take so much more effort to be out there than it used to? Is it our bodies, and the years behind them, that do this…or is how the world has changed and seems to take so much out of us than it once did?

So much anger. Too much fear. No clear path to higher ground.

Life is all about showing up they say. So we do. At our jobs. In our kitchens. At church. At birthday parties and graduations. We’re there, at least physically. I think a big part of us is somewhere else.

Hiking a mountain trail. Swimming in the ocean. Tossing a line into a moving stream. Watching the sun set.

And that’s okay. Because we’ve showed up a lot if we’re baby boomers and beyond. And maybe now a part of us is wanting some attention. After all, we promised our inner selves a fantastic retirement.

Yet it doesn’t seem to feel that way….shouldn’t there be something more? What is this longing that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what we accomplish?

Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue talks about longing…one that we never stop feeling. Regardless of how successful we are, how wonderful our relationships, how healthy our bank account, even just how happy we are. This longing never goes away.

As he says in his book “Eternal Echoes”….

“…Even when you achieve something that you have worked for over the years, the voice of this longing will often surface and qualify your achievement….even when you feel you have arrived, relax and let your self belong with all your heart. Then, the voice whispers and your belonging is disturbed. The voice always makes you feel as if something is missing. You are not able to name what is missing…. Something that feels vital to you lies out of your reach in the unknown. The voice comes from your soul….it confirms you as a relentless pilgrim on the earth. When you recognize that such unease is natural, it will free you….

“This eternal longing will always insist on some door remaining open somewhere in all the shelters where you belong. When you befriend this longing, it will keep you awake and alert to why you are here on earth. It will intensify your journey, but also liberate you from the need to go on many seductive but futile quests.

O’Donohue says this is a longing that can’t be satisfied on earth. We are born with it, we live with it, we leave this world with it. That may sound incredibly frustrating. But I find it a bit of a relief to know that I haven’t failed or dropped the ball just because I feel something isn’t quite complete yet.

As boomers we were raised to take pride in our work and to achieve success in as many ways as we can. That’s great. But there’s more to being alive, and these are the years to really experience as much as we can. And sometimes, that means recharging, stepping back, and dropping out for a bit.

The game isn’t over. We’re just waiting for the right time to make a play.

“The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.” Henry Miller

10 things this boomer would like to see in 2022:

• Respect and admiration for everyone over the age of 80.

 • A ban on humidity over 40 percent.

• A loving home for every stray cat or dog. With treats, an extra bed for when their bones ache, and undivided attention from their human for at least one hour a day.

• Elimination of the cell phone ring tone that sounds like an old office phone. Please.

 •Cheese dip that makes you smarter.

• A headline that reads, “Everyone on the planet is vaccinated and hospital staffs are now working regular shifts.”

 • A cure for dementia.

  • Another headline that states, “Humans understand what they are doing to the planet and start to heal it instead.”

 •Riding in the pace car at the Indianapolis 500. (Hey, I still have a chance.)

 • A renewed appreciation for science, knowledge, reading, investigative journalism, and common sense.

One can dream, right? Novelist, essayist, environmentalist, farmer and really smart guy Wendell Berry says if we could each just heal the relationship with our neighbor, just imagine what could be.

Yes, just imagine. John Lennon did. Bishop Desmond Tutu did as well. So did Mother Theresa. Even Homer Simpson had moments of inspiration.

Happy New Year…let’s be kind to each other.

“The teachers are everywhere. What is wanted is a learner.”

Wendell Berry

I lost a good friend this week. A neighbor who was 91 and lived an amazing life. He was a kind, quiet, witty man who loved his wife (married 68 years) and his many children, grandchildren and probably great-grandchildren (I’m not sure if that’s happened yet). I miss him already.

I”d see him outside with his sweet wife, walking slowly with the aid of a walker and one of his sons, taking small, sure steps when the weather allowed. He was retired many years from a long and successful career, and from what I gathered, he mostly enjoyed time with family, whittling walking sticks, and playing music on his back porch. Just a simple, easygoing, pleasant person you enjoyed knowing.

And while part of me was sorry he chose to go so close to Christmas, knowing how hard that can be for those who remain behind, another part of me thought of what a beautiful time to go the hereafter, which I believe in. I have a feeling the angels have had to make room in their musical group for this man whose smile could brighten the gloomiest days.

How like the Christmas story this week has felt. A soul departs after almost a century of life on earth, ready for the next adventure. Another soul enters the universe and transforms it forever. One is wrinkled and a bit weary, with wisdom and patience that can only come with age. The other is new and fresh and absorbing all that comes its way.

There’s something beautiful about people who have reached this level of life. Think of what they know, and what they’ve survived. The lessons they’ve learned the hard way. The things they’ve taught others simply by being around them. And how in many cases they’ve had to accept what happens to far too many older adults: being ignored, written off, passed by without a second look.

I’ve always believed your life is missing something if you do not have at least one friend who is over 80. They are jewels who shine from within; gifts that loved to be received and valued.

There are those who say Christmas is for children. I’ve never agreed with that. Maybe these people are talking about toys and stockings and cookies. But even so, is it not the child in each of us that anticipates something wonderful on Christmas Eve? Does it matter what age you are when you stand outside at midnight under a full moon on a crisp night and look upwards?

Maybe it’s the child inside each of us that is awakened to the magic. And maybe, when we lose a treasured elder friend, it’s because the child in them was ready to run again…only this time among the clouds.

Merry Christmas, my friend. Merry Christmas everyone.