"LIFE IS GOOD"

   
      My friend and former colleague, Jaimie, who could from his own experience cite many reasons to the contrary, regularly told us, "Life is Good".  (That slogan has become commercialized and appears on numerous consumer items. So be it.  The attitude is not proprietary.)  
    I know, I know...such an outlook can easily be caricatured as 
'Polyanna-ish' and superficial.  When we have lived but a short while, we can provide an extensive itemization of the difficulties,
tragedies, traumas, injustices, that we and  others close to us have experienced.  As a former parish minister and now as psychotherapist, I know more than sometimes I wish that I knew about human hurts.  Though I opted not to complete seminary studies and went in other professional directions, I learned some 'Big Words' for 'Bad Things'.  "Theodicy" was one such...simply put, as I understand it, "Why do Bad things happen to Good people?"  My own experience is to 'beware of anyone who purports to provide the definitive answer. The position of God has been taken and none of us mortals has been commissioned to give the final answer to that one.
  
     I believe that 'a positive attitude' is often taken to imply something like 'denial'.  To me, that is a form of intellectual dishonesty.  Stuff Happens and to contend otherwise only makes us more vulnerable.
      Part of my practice involves working with persons who have been traumatized by injustices of life, using a protocol known as EMDR.  (You can Google that, if interested.)  There are the obvious HUGE traumas...PTSD from military engagement, sexual abuse, automobile accidents, etc.  Another perspective is that traumas are 'things that have happened to us that shouldnot have happened and were not deserved'. ( I learned this understanding from a nearby psychiatrist with whom I have consulted.  Not having asked his consent to name him, I will respect his privacy, but I want to acknowledge his help.)  I have witnessed remarkable healing through this therapeutic modality. At some later time, I want to reflect further on EMDR and how I am understanding its place in my practice.  But for now, I am convinced that despite all the 'bad stuff', Jaimie and his aphorism possess a kind of 'wisdom'.
     Sometimes the 'Good' is obvious...forgiveness, a new baby, goals and aspirations attained, human love and acceptance, good friends, sunrise over the ocean, a brisk cup of coffee, music, good books, an awareness that there is a 'More' that we are drawn to, a dog snoozing beside me as I write and think, 'new beginnings', and perhaps you can add your own reasons.  Vigilance and diligence are appropriate and even necessary on the 'mean streets' of life but to miss the 'good stuff' is to be less than 'alive'.
     'Thanks', Jaimie, for the reminder.
    
     Satchel

SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE BOOKS

   ."I cannot live without books."  Thomas Jefferson
  
  ."When I get a little money, I buy books; if any is left, I buy food and clothes."  Erasmus

  ."A room without books is like a body without a soul."   Cicero

  ."There is no end to the writing of  books . . ." Ecclesiastes


  ."Where is human nature so weak as in a bookstore?"
        Henry Ward Beecher

    A bookstore of 'used books'. . . warehouse, actually... has opened in our town. And, the prices !!! Today, I bought two grocery bags for $5 each.  I told the owner that having a bookstore like his in the town where I live is like opening a liquor store next door to an alcoholic.  Beecher's quote pretty well describes me. I tell my wife that she is fortunate: Some men go to bars; I go to bookstores.
      As the above indicates, it reminded me of a flurry of  'book quotes'.  I have a wall plaque in my home office: "Books to the ceiling; Books to the Sky.  My piles of books are a mile high.
   How I love them.  How I need them.
I'll have a long beard by the time I read them."  And, yet I keep returning for MORE.  Today I eased my 'addiction guilt' by remembering  that most of these will be given to Interns in our office.  
    In College Freshman Composition class, we were required to read Francis Bacon's essay on Books: "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested. . ."  Over the years, I have encountered books in each of those categories.  Some were important, provocative, memorable, helpful enough that one reading did not suffice. Every Christmas holiday, I reread Parker Palmer's, Let Your Life Speak: Finding the Voice of True Vocation and each year, there is a new "take away". Over fifty years ago, I began the practice of keeping a log of author, title and date of each book I read.  I don't think that I am particularly OC; but those lists are 'instructors' about varying interests and events stirring in periods of my life.
   Not surprisingly, all my professional life has been spent in occupations that valued books highly. . .History Professor, Parish Minister, and now Psychotherapist.  Even my brief foray into entrepreneurship was as a college textbook broker.  My two younger brothers share this affection for books. So, might the origins be found in our early home environment? I think  so.
Largely because of the Great Depression of the 1930's and limited childhood opportunities, neither of our parents were high school graduates (though both possessed that treasured commodity, 'Wisdom').  But there were always books in our home.  Mom belonged to the venerable Book of the Month Club during World War II and I would regularly roam the bookshelves.  The Beards' Basic History of the United States;  Bill Mauldin's book of war stories and cartoons, Up Front; Bronte's Wuthering Heights . . .these and others supplemented the usual childhood fare of Tom Sawyer, and my Zane Grey trilogy of baseball books, etc. Today,  I have not yet moved into the LARGE PRINT section of the bookstore. And, while I have one of those electronic readers, I am still biased towards the 'feel of the book in my hand' school of reading.
     There is no such creature as the "Self-Made" person.  "Success", however defined, is the confluence of many factors such as native abilities, being born in the 'right' place and time, kinspersons, dumb luck, and on it goes.  A helpful book for my understanding this has been Malcolm Gladwell's, The Outliers. My brothers and I are no more intelligent, God-blessed, or special than others.  It was just 'in the air' and 'in the water' of our lives because as we heard so often, "We want you to have opportunities that we didnot have." It is the gratitude for that influence that helps me understand and resonate with Anna Quindlen's title, How Reading Changed My Life.
    Satchel
  

GHOSTS

       Last night we went to our great-neice's Recreation League basketball game in the local Community Rec Center.  Fifty-seven years ago, that building was the gymnasium for the town's high school. Adjacent to the gym is the baseball field, now used primarily for Rec League soccer games. I attended high school in the county-seat town some 15 miles away and the school here was our big athletic rival. 
    Prior to last night's game, I decided to 'stretch my legs' and walk in the area.  As it developed, more than the legs were 'stretched'.  As a high school athlete, I never attracted the attention of college and university scouts but I played well enough to enjoy the games.  Taking my seat at game time, I remembered that it was in this same building that I scored my 'career high' eighteen points, as  we who started the game, as well as the #6 player, all scored in double figures to avenge the previous year's tournament loss to this school. (Remember, this was in 1956...the numbers are indelibly locked within my brain cells.)  I 'called the roll' of our team members, sadly noting the recent death of Billy Joe, our Center.
   When walking past the baseball field which was the largest in the county, I had remembered that my now-friend threw a curve that I never solved. It was also here in batting practice try-out for the county American Legion team  that I 'knew' I had secured a uniform.  This was before dad gave me the reality lesson that my attendance at college in the fall meant that I had to have summer employment in order to help with the expenses.  Was I disappointed?  Is New York City a large town? Did I also 'understand'? Of course.  
   Stopping to look at the 'stadium' , I again 'called the roll': "Junior" pitching for 'them',  the same basketball Center was also our mainstay pitcher.  Then there was Gwen and later 'Tiny' (6'6") as catcher, Billy or Larry at third (both also deceased), Herman (deceased) or Vossie at second, Jerome at shortstop, Carl in left field, Jimmy in centerfield, J.B. played right, my younger brother was that year a 'bench warmer' awaiting his time of 'glory' later  and I was first-baseman. Both teams were coached by the same teacher who also taught Physics, Chemistry and French I and II.  How's that for multi-tasking?  Coach was essentially bald and, in adolescent fashion, we nicknamed him 'Curly', though no one ever addressed him with that moniker.
   My Alma Mater as well as this town's high school are long-gone, replaced by larger institutions that are consolidations of the 'town schools'.  The academic offerings in each now exceed the core curriculum afforded by our smaller schools. And there are teams in sports unheard of a half-century ago.  Nostalgia has been defined as a kind of homesickness of the soul, often indulged  by those of us of older age.  Care needs to be exercised here because as a former academic historian, I recognize the siren-song in 'retrospective falsification'.  The Past can be a fun place to visit; living there risks memory distortions and romanticizations.
    Were we 'good'? Well, we 'won some and lost some' and from this vantage point, the question seems irrelevant. Perhaps there were 'life lessons' gained.  Certainly, a sense of place and 'belonging' helped give stability until additional internalized guidelines could be formed and confirmed.
    As I replayed 'once upon a time' games with these 'ghosts', I wondered what our niece will remember fifty-plus years into her future.

     Satchel

IT'S JUST A NUMBER !?

       In a few days I will arrive at one of those 'milestone birthdays'...75 !  There was a time when that would have sounded, what ?...Ancient, Decrepit, OLD .  No longer .
All kinds of cliches come to mind: e.g., 'how did this happen so fast'?  A danger is to want to pontificate, to say something 'profound' about 'lessons I have learned', or 'sage sayings for those younger'.  Actually, I hope I have none of that. I am still trying to 'take it in', to assimilate some of what it means.
     Fifty was not traumatic.  Even gave myself a party, a gathering of friends that I called 'The Old Fogies Fitness Festival and Fun Run'.  A few of us managed to run a 10k.
My 60th  was on a Sunday and my three congregations each sang "Happy Birthday" after my Intern told them that it was the day; My 65th was a memorable one that will go unspecified here;  on my 70th, I went riding down the Interstate with my daughter in a Mercedes convertible with the top down. This one is , well, 'different' and still not sure about what all that means , as said above. (Guess I could say that one of the prerogatives of 'aging' is being able to be repetitive).
     Humor seems to help.  I think it was James Thurber who said that if years had 15 months rather than 12, he would be turning 60 instead of 75. ( When I told my daughter that, she 
wrote, "Sometimes I worry about you."  )  And I think it was Noel Paul Stookey of Peter, Paul and Mary who said that his physician told him that he had the proverbial good news/ bad news: The bad news: you are dyslexic; the good news: you are 47.  That's it: I'm 57.
    Giving people a birth certificate and saying you are now X years old and here are the age-appropriate behaviors is a tad restrictive. My office is on the third floor of an elevator-less house.  Sometimes I forget to be 'dignified' when bounding up the stairs. Several years ago, when I was 66, I was at the U-turn of a flight of stairs when I overheard the woman at the top of the steps muttering to herself: "These steps bother me; these steps frighten me; I had better hold on to the railing; these steps are not for old people."  My curiosity caused me to inquire: "How 'old' is old?" She said, "Fifty-eight".  Attempting some humor, I said, "I'm 66 and I run up and down these steps all the time."  She almost spat back, "That's the difference...you do it all the time." I realized that I didnot know her or her story, so I made no reply.  But she had just told me that I was OLD and I disagreed.
     Some gerontologists maintain that there are three progressions of 'old' in society: The young old who are 65-74; next are the old, old who are 75-84; and the oldest old who are 85 and above.  Mark Twain wrote that there are lies, damn lies and statistics.  I am not in denial of my numbers, but I am in resistance to being made a statistical category.
   Today I received a YouTube clip of a woman in California who just had her driver's license renewed on her 105 birthday.
Talk about 'age-inappropriate' behavior ! 
     I need to ponder further this milestone, but for now, here again is Satchel Paige's profound inquiry: "How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?"
    
          Satchel

'SNO JOKE

       What a difference a week and a few hundred miles can make.
Last Saturday at this hour, we were touring Miami, Florida, and the day was warm. Now, we are back home and it is 'snowing like crazy'.  My kind of snow...beautiful while falling, not too much of it predicted and it likely will be gone within 36-48 hours...not like what happened in the northeastern part of the US last week.  Nor the kind that my daughter's family is experiencing in Southern Germany as per the photographs she sends.
    My great surprise was  the absolute delight that I experienced when it began this morning, the disappointment when it stopped after minimal accumulation, and now, wow !, it has begun again.  Watching it fall . . .well, I am regressing to a much younger age.  Other than that frigid Winter in Boston many years ago, I have never lived where snow was an extended disruption.  Occasionally, enough for a small snowman, for the making of 'snow cream', a snowball fight,  a few days out of school, etc. (Re:snow cream, Our State magazine [North Carolina] had a cover story about that delicacy a month or so ago, if you can access that.) No doubt, that limited exposure gives me an entirely different perspective and outlook than someone with a less romanticized experience.
    A family reunion for our extended family has been planned for this evening and a cousin sent an e mail a few minutes ago saying that it was still a 'go'.  Maybe I am getting super cautious at this time in life, or maybe it is the memory of doing a 360* turn on a snowy road almost   30 years ago, but we plan to hunker down and enjoy the view from the inside looking out.
     When I was in my Residency to be a therapist, our Supervisor often noted the positive effect of "regression in the service of the Ego", an opportunity to reintegrate our "Self".  Well, I am enjoying this brief "Regression".  
   Let it snow ! 
       Satchel
    

TGIF

        Do you know the acronym TGIF ?  Thank God, It's Friday ?  When I was a college professor, one of my colleagues had a small pennant proclaiming TGIF that he would unfurl with much ado each Friday.  His glee was matched only by that of his students.  Of course, there are people whose work-week does not adhere to the Monday through Friday model.  Still, somehow, that mind-set seems to hold sway in large measure in the United States.
     Another former colleague retired a few years ago and when I asked about the transition, he said, "Every day is Saturday."  My own 'work-week' is now essentially a Monday through Wednesday routine.  When that began, I commented to a younger brother (himself recently retired) that a four-day week-end was nice.  His rejoinder was that a seven-day week-end was even nicer. 
      Whether it begins on Friday or another day and to a great extent, whether or not one is 'working', the week-end holds out the prospect that for a brief time the routine is changed.
Now what?  There are numerous scenarios: leisure, travel, working a second job, 'honey-do' lists (if you don't know, and your spouse does not know, don't ask. OK, it's 'Honey, do this; honey, do that.'), 'catching up', re-creation, religious activities, ...and the list continues.
    For me, a great benefit of week-end, regardless of what occurred, has been the proverbial change of pace.  To be too long at the same task, endeavor, activity can dull the mind,body and spirit.  Even the battery on this computer has to be recharged periodically.  For a great many people, this alternative to the routine is no longer an alternative and, thereby, something precious is lost. When I was a long-distance runner, I found great benefit in alternating the pace of the run.  A 'flat out sprint' could be maintained just so long; then it was time to 'coast' ; and then on to yet other gaits.  I believe a 'week-end' (at whatever days of the week) can be vital for running the long race of life as well.
     TGIF,
           Satchel

I WISH . . .

   An often-heard lament is that 'life is too short' for all there is to know, do, be.
While I am grateful for the many good people, experiences, achievements, etc. of my life,
there remain 'growth areas', blank spots, unfulfilled wishes  as I live at the threshold of my 75th Birthday.  Some of these may yet be attained, others explored, others discarded.  If you have lived for , say, 30 years or longer, might you have your own comparable 'list'?  ( I understand this as somewhat different than the "Bucket List" idea.)

   So, here are some of those things that I wish I better understood, knew more about, knew 'how to':

.Astronomy, particularly after a friend introduced me to the Star Walk App for iPad
.Playing a banjo.  I had a world-class instructor in my friend, Stan Brown, but the fingers of my left hand just are not flexible enough to form the chords.
.Speaking German and Spanish, though I know enough words to express hunger, etc.
.The physiology and functions of the human brain
.Reading the New Testament in Koine Greek.  (Dr. Eiferd at Duke Divinity School did his part many years ago, but it was 'all Greek to me'. Forgive the lame humor.)
.Build something with a hammer, nails and saw.
.Swim. Even though I passed the PE course in college, I have on three occasions had situations that could have resulted in drowning. So, I have huge respect (read fear) of water.
.Fly an airplane
.What makes my electronic gadgets...iPhone, iPad, computer ...work
.Write a book. ( A life-long desire achieved by my long-ago fraternity brother, Charles F. Price. See his website: Charles F Price.com)
.How 'healing' occurs...mind,body,spirit, emotions
.What prompts me to 'like' or 'dislike' some persons almost immediately
.Create a stained-glass design (like my friend, Sam Zinaich)
.My great-grand-parents and their lives
.Grow a vegetable garden again
.Prepare for a Marathon  ( three 15 milers in Charleston,WVa several years ago are my personal bests)
."Make sense" of dreams
.Memory
.What an infant 'knows'
.Why some persons are generous and others stingy
.Read faster (rather than 'Oh,oh, see Jane run'. That may resonate for some of you who learned to 'read' with those books)
.Good poetry
.Remember 'good jokes'
.Sing, rather than make 'joyful noises'
.Make pottery
.Contemplative prayer
.What to keep, what to discard....and not just 'stuff'

   What is on your list  ?

    Satchel

CURMUDGEONS

Caveat emptor !! ( Don't know the Latin for 'Reader,Beware'.)
This one has more than a tad of grousing, muttering tone. Allegedly, we elders sometimes are viewed as curmudgeons . One of my younger brothers once said he was becoming one of those and I simply inquired 'Becoming?'. The same, on occasion, can be said of his older brother. A few days ago, I extolled the benefits of a balance of silence and beneficial sounds.
However, having disembarked from a 'cruise ship' a few hours ago, I am ready for a HUGE installment of quiet. Apparently, there was little refuge from
the incessant cacophony .... loud voices, amplified sounds masquerading as 'music', Muzak , cruise-line 'cheerleaders' telling us what a wonderful time we were having, etc. One night, insomnia caused by onset of a cold prompted me to leave our cabin at 3:30 a.m. to avoid awakening my wife. Even the deserted top-level aft deck had loud-speakers emitting 'racket'. (There's that descriptive term again.) And, my grand-father's strategy of turning down the hearing aids didn't help. (See 'Shhh' of a few days ago). Actually, there were times when removing the devices altogether afforded no relief.
Now sitting in the Miami Airport, waiting for flight home in few hours, I remember having been told that few things are as quiet as a snowfall. I wonder if my brother in New Hampshire where two feet of snow has fallen since last night would like to make a trade.
In the meantime, maybe we can make reservations for a few days 'cruise' to the nearest monastery!

OK, I'll be more 'upbeat' in next post.
Satchel

COLD, FROID,KALTE

     During the Winter of 1960-61, I was in school in Boston.  There is much about that city to be loved and enjoyed.  Among those, however, is not the Boston Winter.  I became a 'fan' of the then somewhat inglorious Red Sox...even saw Ted Williams's next to last game.  Ate some great food, made life-long friends.  But, my Southern derriere never adapted to the cold and the snow.  One of my brothers has lived most of his adult life in New Hampshire. In that place there are two 'seasons' ...July 4th and Winter. I remain awed by his ability to endure those rigors.

    Two days ago here the temp was 72 degrees F; today, with the wind-chill factor, it is sub-freezing.  Perhaps it is because I have less 'padding' (body fat), but the wind and cold penetrate to the core and I find myself singing and humming songs of childhood like " 'tis Springtime, 'tis Springtime, cold Winter has past; the birds are returning, their songs fill the air."

     My daughter has been living in Germany for the past couple of years, having moved there with her family from Alabama.  'Culture shock' has included a strong blast of weather differences.
Sometimes it seems she longs for the warmer climes as well as does her dad.
     
     My dad was a very wise man with many words of counsel for his sons.  Among the more pertinent ones was, "Don't wish your time away, son."  So, one of the ways we are attempting to make the best of the moment and still side-step some of Winter's rigors is to take a several-days cruise to the Caribbean.  Being newcomers to the cruising routine, I am yet to be convinced that it is the best way to vacation.  But with the temps there well into the 70's and beyond, what a way to spend the first days of February.  "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow !"

     Satchel