Posted on May 28, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with one comment

The spirit is willing but…

 

“It’s a heartache,

Nothing but a headache,

Could have been a toothache,

Hits you when you’re down”.

With apologies to Bonnie Tyler.

“Love hurts”. Nazareth.

So do my lower back and my arm.

It would appear that the warranty is set to expire. Do you remember when you were perfectly healthy? When you were lean and fit and you had all your hair and your wits about you? When all your body parts were functioning at their optimum? When you were sure footed and confident? When you could recite Abou Ben Adhem in its entirety?

Come to think of it, neither can I.

These days, there are times I can’t remember why I went into the kitchen.

We used to recite the Litany of the Saints in our childhood when we said the rosary. It is a traditional prayer that calls upon the Blessed Virgin Mary, the saints, and the angels for intercession, asking for mercy. Our litany is now one of ailments, when we call upon doctors, podiatrists, chiropractors, massage therapists, acupuncturists, plastic surgeons and many others for their intercession.

When I was a teenager, we sat on the railings outside the bowling alleys and talked about sports, cars, and girls. Not necessarily in that order.

When I was a young man we talked about university, careers, and travel.

As newlyweds, we talked about the price of pampers, car seats, and ear infections.

As we got older, we talked about RRSP’s, paying off the mortgage, and the prospects of retiring.

We retired and talked about a life of leisure, golfing, fishing, going on river cruises and spending quality time with our grandchildren.

Now we’re old.

Stop in at McDonald’s on any given morning, or your local coffee shop and you will invariably see a group of gray haired folks. There is probably a 99% chance that the bulk of the conversation revolves about health or lack thereof. The other 1% is about the Leaf’s playoff futility.

I once thought that the only place that had a parts department was an automobile dealership. Eavesdrop for a few minutes. “New knee.” New hip.” “New heart.” It’s a wonder that screening devices at airports are not chirping every minute of the day as titanium filled seniors pass through the metal detectors.

I am blessed to have a lot of friends and other than my children and grandchildren, most of them are older. Birds of a feather flock together. Sadly, many of those friends have already “flown the coop”. The last six people that I talked to? Torn meniscus; incurable itch over the entire body; two hip replacements; memory issues; bypass surgery and prostate cancer.

Yes indeed. If we ever needed the power of saints and angels, it is now when we’re in the late innings. However, in our case, it might be dubbed “The Litany of the Aint’s”. We ain’t doing all that great.

However, despite all of our collective aches and pains, we’re still trucking along, making the best of the time that’s left.

“Now I’m old and tired, bent and busted, gray and wrinkled and I can’t be trusted…”

Dirty Old Man – Valdy

There are days that I feel old and tired, bent and busted. I’m definitely gray and wrinkled.

I had a new walk-in shower installed last week. I was having trouble getting in and out of the tub. Waiting for the paint to dry and the caulking to be finished, I wasn’t able to shower for several days. One explanation of a “dirty old man”.

I am proposing a new television show. It will be called “What Ails You?”

It’s bound to be a smash hit with tens of millions of boomers with something to complain about.

Me? I’ll just grab a cold beer.

That’s what ales me!

When my mother was well into her 80s, she often commented that she didn’t feel her age.

However, she also had a cushion on her sofa that said, “Screw The Golden Years”.

I guess you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

Have a great weekend.

 

 

Posted on May 21, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with one comment

No regrets

 

“I don’t regret anything I’ve ever done in my life, any choice that I’ve made. But I’m consumed with regret for the things I didn’t do, the choices I didn’t make, the things I didn’t say. We spend so much time being afraid of failure, afraid of rejection. But regret is the thing we should fear most. Regret is an eternal question you will never have the answer to. “What if…” “I wonder what would have…”You will never, never know, and it will haunt you for the rest of your days.”

Born a Crime – Trevor Noah

None of us wants to limp to the finish line.

Life is one long, difficult race. There are peaks and valleys, and mercifully flat plains where the going is relatively easy. We’ve won a few and lost some. We’ve had incredible highs and endured the depths of despair. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried and times when we’ve just had to gut it out. It’s a marathon but finishing strong is our ardent desire.

I have experienced all of these emotions running marathons. They certainly rate as one of the most physically and mentally grueling things I’ve ever done. Walking the Camino twice is right up there. I know all too well what it feels like to limp to the finish line. It’s not a great feeling.

“Regrets I’ve had a few,

But then again, too few to mention.”

My Way – Frank Sinatra

I just finished reading Trevor Noah’s excellent book “Born a Crime” about his life growing up in South Africa around the time of apartheid. It was a very difficult childhood. His quote about regrets leapt off the page.

Loyal readers have heard me go on about this topic and time again, but I feel it bears repeating.

What if?

We all have regrets, but the trick is to minimize them. Many of you have retired and are enjoying the fruits of your labours. You’re travelling, playing pickle ball or making quilts. You have the time, the resources and the good health to be “living the dream”. Many are not so fortunate and struggle with retirement, finding the time long and loneliness your only companion.

The hourglass is not working in our favour.

I spoke with a friend recently. Like so many women, she dedicated her life to her family and her career and had very little “me time”. She’s thinking about doing a solo trip where she can go somewhere “far from the madding crowd”, where she can enjoy peace, quiet and seclusion. I urged her to do just that. If not now, when?

The last thing any of us want is to arrive at the finish line with a litany of regrets.

It doesn’t mean that you have to do something grand or dramatic, or something that requires a big outlay of time and money. It could be as simple as an apology to someone you’ve wronged. That doesn’t take money. It takes courage.

As the sand seeps to the bottom of that hourglass, it might be time to take action.

Please don’t limp to the finish line. Run to the finish line, or jog, or walk. Or wheelchair. Or skateboard or cycle. Or crawl, if necessary.  Go screaming, chanting, singing, praying.

Don’t be the one who says, “I wish I had…”

There’s still time.

Have a great weekend.

P.S. It’s hard to imagine that a proximal humerus fracture could ever be considered a good thing but this unfortunate accident provided me the time to work on a project long in the works – my autobiography. Breaking my arm was a mixed blessing. Last week, I was able to finish the first draft. Those of you of a certain age (!) will be able to relate to many of the stories, growing up in this part of the world as part of a large family. My plan is to publish in the Fall.

 

 

Posted on May 14, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

Don’t stop the presses

“Extra! Extra! Read all about it!”

This catch phrase was commonly shouted by newsboys in the United States, particularly in the mid-19^th century, to sell special editions or extras of newspapers.

Do local, small-town papers still matter?

You betcha.

I have had a love affair with the printed word, especially newspapers, since delivering the Chronicle-Herald as a young boy. When I first started reading newspapers, I was attracted most to the sports pages which could run anywhere from 4-6 pages back in the good old days. This section would be loaded with stories of sporting events but what I liked most was the statistics. Like most sport nerds, I wanted to know how many home runs and RBI’s Mickey Mantle had so far in the season or who was leading the scoring race in the NHL.

These days, I’m more likely to be checking out the obituaries!

For decades, if not centuries, local weeklies have been the heartbeat of small town Canada. Long before the advent of the internet, this was the most important source for local news. These papers had everything from local politics, news, sports and features, and if you lived in “The Little Vatican” (Antigonish), there was even a full religious section. And yes, the ever-important obituaries where we learned more about our neighbors’ lives than we could have possibly imagined.

Like so many of my generation, we made scrapbooks, often filled with newspaper clippings. I have a drawer full of these clippings.

Slowly, and insidiously, local weeklies started a downward spiral, first through the takeover by conglomerates, and then the arrival of social media news and entertainment platforms and 24-hour cable television.

Our local gem, The Casket, fell victim to these pressures and today is a sad shadow of what it was once upon a time.

However, there are always survivors amongst the worst shipwrecks. The Guysborough Journal is one of them. They have been churning out local news for well over two decades. They have a loyal following and have managed to buck the trends against huge odds.

In a world that seems more connected and disconnected than ever, The Guysborough Journal still stands tall. Yes. We are connected more than we want or need to be but, sadly, we’re more disconnected than ever. Just go to a restaurant or a sporting event and witness 90% of the people with their attention fixed on a screen. Smart, and stupid. Two things can be right at the same time.

The Journal still speaks to its constituents, ordinary folks like you and me. We have a nascent curiosity. We want to know what’s going on in our own backyards.

The Guysborough Journal is not only alive and well, but it is actually planning to expand its coverage. Today, they will be launching a new section of the paper called “Antigonish This Week”, a “paper within a paper”.

I know that many of my loyal readers are excellent writers and story tellers. Maybe you would like to be a contributor to the paper?

If you are not already a subscriber to the Journal, here’s your chance to climb on board.

“Extra! Extra! Read all about it”!

Before I leave you, a quick medical update. I broke my humerus bone 6 weeks ago. No laughing matter! One never knows what they’re missing until it’s gone. I was absolutely thrilled a few weeks back when I was finally able to dress myself from head to toe. Small victories.

We shouldn’t take anything for granted.

Have a great weekend.