Boomer Randomness

Sunday morning. Ham and egg sandwich and coffee at Panera. A small ‘to do’ list but no timeline. Me and the love of my life sitting across from each other sharing laughs and dreams. What would it be like to recreate this scene every day and not just on Sunday?  Especially the ‘no timeline’ part. That’s one of the pictures in my head when we dream of retirement. We are not the ‘sit on front porch rockers’ types; we want do some kind of work for as long as we can. Part time work. Escape from the rat race work. Meaningful work. Sunday is my recharge day and has been for decades. A relaxing day creates a mental environment perfect for dreaming; perfect for erasing the busyness of the preceding week and designing a potentially exciting coming week. Conversation, reading, listening to music, running a few errands, sipping wine. Hanging with friends. Laughing. Dreaming. The perfect Sunday. I want more of those.

A sampling of quotes from an American hero: “The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people." “Only in the darkness can you see the stars.” “The time is always right to do what is right.” "Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” - Martin Luther King Jr. 

A warm, but bulky coat. Gloves. A wool hat. DataWatch card on a lanyard. Office door keys. Laptop backpack. A Baja Fresh bag with a chicken rice bowl. A grande Pike Place blend cup of Starbucks coffee. A walking stick. That’s what I wore and retrieved from my car in the parking lot at work late one recent morning. It was 11 degrees outside, 43 in the parking lot. Many people I know think I have a lot of patience, that I’m calm under pressure and that I don’t get angry very often. My take? I have plenty of ‘acceptance’; but the older I get, the less patience I have. And the more often I am angry. Maybe ‘patience’ should be my keyword for 2018. That would be a worthy goal. A moment before I struggled to exit my car, strap on all my crap and head for the elevator, I told myself I should take my time and accept that it’s cold, I have several items to take up to my office and I’m a 60-something man who walks with a walking stick because I have MS. I can’t change the weath...

New Year’s Day is my favorite holiday. January 1st each year signals an opportunity for new beginnings, both in thought and in reality. Counting down to midnight the night before is simultaneously scary and energizing. A mild sense of dread washes over me as we careen toward the final moments of a year. Wait, stop, I didn’t finish (fill in the blank). Yet there is energy and optimism as we count, often in unison with groups of people, ten. Nine. Eight. It’s almost here. Seven. Six. Does everyone have their champagne? Five. Four. Ready?! Three. Two. One!! Happy New Year!!!! Glasses clink. Hugs. Kisses. Attempts to sing Auld Lang Syne. Does anybody really know the words?  Or the origin of the song and its connection to turning the page into the next year? January One is the first day of my month-long ‘process’. From New Year’s Day at the beginning to my birthday near the end, I think through what I want in the coming year. I don’t actually make New Years resolutions but I do...