Tag: Age
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Your date is better in your pie and porridge than in your cheek
When I was young, everybody except my friends were old. There were gradations of course, but with anybody over 18, I could only guess the number of years they wore. And even then, it was kind of a binary choice: they were either adults, or simply old like, say, my grandparents. Old people were in…
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Of unpathed waters, and undreamed shores
Borders, boundaries, limits -everywhere I turn there are constraints. Of course some are more penetrable than others: doors can be opened, ladders can be climbed, people can be persuaded. Here and there, are immutable, but perhaps only because neither have actual boundaries -just mental ones: clouds that shift like the horizon as you move… Still,…
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Is Old Age worth it?
I realize that at my time of life, I should be grateful that I still exist; that there’s a me rather than simply a him -a memory registered however tenuously in those friends who are still able to remember things. Of course, I hasten to add that I am grateful that, so far at any…
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The I’s have it… don’t they?
Sometimes the Past is instructive; sometimes it is embarrassing. I mean, are we meant to learn from the past, or to learn when we’re actually in it, wallowing through its turbid eddies, lost in its sudden shadows? You’d think I would have figured it out by now, wandering as I am through my own autumn…
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Will this look of thine hurl my soul from heaven?
‘The ceremony of innocence is drowned’, wrote Yeats in his magnificent poem The Second Coming. That’s how I feel sometimes, when I think about the things I was taught and came to accept. Came to expect, because what we see is so often laden with expectations. We accept what our culture paints, so we are…
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Speak low if you speak love
When I was a naïve university student, I read that far from missing out on the thrill of the chase in youth, the elderly are usually liberated from the (presumably) hormonally mediated need for sexual gratification leaving time to evaluate other things. Since procreative duties -or possibilities- would no longer loom large in their thinking,…
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Death be not proud
Sometimes I think I spend too much time with myself. I realize, however, that the only way to spend any time away from me is to die, and that seems a bit harsh. Death is one of those subjects they never taught in school -in my day, anyway. Of course, when you’re young, Death is…
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The web of our life is of a mingled yarn
I’m getting old now and although I don’t regret the slow accumulation of the lately-wilting years, I’ve noticed that a lot of people do -or at least say they do. I’m not sure how well they’ve thought it through, however; even if they somehow managed to continue their lives in a candy shop, they’d soon…
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