Recently, two incidents of time and place looped around, intersecting in synchronistic repose. But it wasn’t until my neighbor came to my door that I realized it. Ken, my neighbor and unrelenting ball of octogenarian energy, held his head in shame when he had to tell me (by the prodding of his wife) he could no longer make good on our agreement. I watched him shift from foot to foot, eyes down as a twelve year old admitting he broke a window. He said “I can’t mow your lawn anymore. [pause] ... [pause] I had a heart attack. Ain’t never had one of those. I’ll get my boat out of your garage day after tomorrow. I’m selling it.” He looked to my eyes – head still hung. I wasn’t sure if I should say something like “It’s OK. Would you like some milk and cookies?”
This morning Bullwinkle made the overlay in time visible. Yes. Bullwinkle, as in Rocky and Bullwinkle. For in the introduction to the Rocky and Bullwinkle show, Bullwinkle “accidently” pulls a lion out of his magic hat, and exclaims “I don’t even know my own strength!” Of course this implies our weaknesses as well.
I thought of Ken. Never still. Never stopping business to tarry about the roses. He had just always ran.
Many years ago, I was taking a friend’s young son to the playground just over the fence from my mother’s back yard. There were several routes available to us, but I chose the quickest – and also the most difficult path. The boy told me he couldn’t navigate the foray. I asked him “why not?”
“I’m just a kid.”
“It’s OK. I’ll keep you from falling.”
Off we went. Daring and courageous. Living life as though we only lived once.
Is it important to monitor our years alive, only to go referencing back to the “Grand Tome of Your Culture’s Age-Appropriate Behavior?”