I always thought it would be great fun to make contact with folks from my past, my classmates, and friends of way back when, but now I just don't know. What would we say to each other, what would we be thinking ..... "Who is this old person across the table from me? I don't know him/her. What can I say that won't offend? Do I dare talk about this or that .....?" So much has been forgotten, so much buried by the years of separation and lack of communication. There's almost a fear roiling around in the back of my brain, a fear that the meeting would be less than a success.
As age has hardened me against life in general, mostly to protect me from the rejection of youth and progress far above and beyond my comprehension, it also has piled on such things as suspicion, doubt, fear of rejection ......
I'm not sure I could handle a reunion with old friends. I'm really not. Could I even handle the pleasure of the meeting?
As I diddle around with this keyboard wondering what I'm here to say, wondering, even, IF I, in fact do have anything to say, there's this though nagging me. Why am I here in the first place?
As the above tirade implies, I am NOT up to renewals and revivals, yet I stand ready, here, to jump into the start up of NEW acquaintances, new friendships, or in the rare case, new 'enemyships'. Go figure.
I think it would be fun to go sit in the corner and diddle with my guitar. Old fingers are still tender, and fingering the fret-board is still a bit of a pain in the digits. Still, I find, most happily in fact, that I didn't really forget all that much ..... not that I knew all that much to begin with ..... and I'm enjoying the experience all over again. Never could get deep into the learning and playing of the instrument ..... I was busy beating on pots and pans and boxes and whatever else I could find that would make an assortment of 'bangs' and 'booms', learning what it takes to make a foot pat in rhythm to my antics. Now there's no one to please but myself, and at the same time all I have to worry about is the noise I make irritating my little Wife mate. Heh! I wait till she's deep into a noisy movie or talk show on TV then I have at it in the back room. Even dusted the old keyboard off, hooked the big speakers up again, got out the old charts and folders of riffs and runs that were hurriedly scribbled down over the years.
Close the eyes, recall, re-apply myself, and enjoy. I think that is part of the 'Retirement' stage of life. Would I have liked this stage to come before the other, harder part? I wonder .....
Be happy my Friends. Lisa and I are diligently working on an advanced version of the happy feeling.
From the cat hair covered South Woods Home of the Owl and his Lady Lisa, We send you this bit of nonsense and chatter.
An almost 'after-thought here: I sold the old Yellow Continental. If I had hands on a bottle of good Rye Wiskey after the truck roared away carrying my Baby, I would have dove into said bottle head first. Who'd have thought a man could actually love a machine as I do/did that Old Yellow Car.
Anyway, the price of the sale paid for the insurance for the new car with coins enough left over for a good foundation for a 'slush fund' to cover the next 'disaster' due, I'm quite sure, to hit the family just about anytime. I are/am/is, if nothing else, a devout pessimist. I have had major repeat practice at it, honest.
Life in the South Woods is good.
Lisa sends her love ..... cats all say "Miaowr" and invite y'all to visit their Blogspot when you can.
