On the Turning Away

We're on the back side of August and the nights have grown noticeably cooler.

From a practical standpoint, that means we don't have to run the air conditioner n the bedroom any more. But from a season standpoint, it means the year is starting its wind down.

Geese are on the move as they honk their way over our house on their flight to somewhere. This has been going on for a couple weeks now.

Days are shorter as the darkness starts to infringe on both ends.

There's still another month of summer remaining. At least that's what the calendar says. But the heavy, burning days of sweat and cicadas are behind us.

Sitting by an open window in the evening watching television is more likely to lead to grabbing a blanket than a cold drink.

The days are still warm, less so than even just a few weeks ago. However, the froth of seasonal change has started to wreak its unsettled yearning upon the soul.

The transition from summer to fall is more impactful, more eloquent than any other season changes throughout the year.  Perhaps winter to spring comes close, but in Maine it's such a nebulous time that it is difficult to pinpoint as to exactly when it happens.

Summer to fall, though, is rife with portents and melancholy. A lovely change that impresses a bittersweet sensation that all things must, indeed, eventually end.

The warnings are there and they shout to be sensed more than heard.

As time unfolds more quickly this time of year, it won't be long before the landscape has become barren, the trees denuded of leaves and the sky turned a steel gray with frost on one's breath.

And with this we say goodbye to "summertime and the living is easy."

I'll take my leave with this song by Pink Floyd.

On Aging - A Treatise for Unsuspecting Young People

We are far removed from where we were 20 years ago. 

10 years ago.

The chasm between then and now is deep, uncrossable.

Feeble flights can be made through the use of photographs, video, memories. But these are no more than nickelodeons that play for a while before fading out.

So, where does the sum total of all those years go? The past is a great vacuum cleaner sucking up moments as they blip out of the present.

And they go to a great cosmic closet to wane, whither, and sometimes morph, especially the farther away one gets from them.

The aging process is tragic. Most don't want to admit that. Instead they chant mantras to make themselves feel better about it.

"It's better than the alternative."

"Looking forward to retirement and freedom."

"60 is the new 40."

Or 

"Age is just a number."

But the real fact of the matter is our lives have peaks. Peak energy, peak fitness, peak sexual desire and performance, peak endurance, peak interest levels, peak earning ability.
And after scaling all those peaks, there is just ongoing dwindle until we find ourselves in a recliner, too tired to get up and wondering where all the years went.

All the loved ones went. The ones we buried.

Mysterious aches and creaks become the norm. Remembering things often requires Olympic effort with no guarantee of success.

Visual and audio acuity begin to wind down, and they are fortunate who can be called mentally sharp when in their 80s.

But it's not just the physical decline that defines aging. It's the constant change.

Old neighborhoods and play areas so fondly recalled from childhood grow and shift until they become unrecognizable. Sometimes they are demolished and replaced.

People who were once an integral part of our lives move away only to be seen once a year in a Christmas card. 

Or they die.

And the music, oh Lord, the music. 

At least there are records, tapes or CDs. And once popular bands still touring though they look like they should be using walkers or wheelchairs.

The world continually transforms itself into a place where the elderly feel more and more like strangers in a strange land.

Is it any wonder that old folks like to talk about what was familiar to them ad nauseum? It's because the contemporary world they suddenly find themselves in is oriented to a younger demographic and there's not much in it for the life-experienced.



If none of the above speaks to the reader as being tragic, then  consider this...

Did you know that sex post-60 is vastly different than in one's 20s?

It's okay and that's about it.

Just okay.