To thine own self be true

Cob`s Sunflower Flaxseed Sourdough (regular cut).

Fall.
No mosquitoes.
Prefer the warm sunny days in September with leaves changing.
Often travel then.
If I had only 1 season to choose, those 15-25 degree sunny days would definitely work.

Favorite fall poem: “To Autumn” by John Keats.

A grey plastic hand-sized tv with spools and paper ‘films’ you put on them and then roll onto the screen for watching.

I already have a 2 transistor radio, my first Brownie camera, all of the Classics Illustrated comics, “Dark Pony” gr. 1 school story, pre-school Hans Christian Andersen stories book, and a coin-changer like the one I used for 5 years as a paperboy.

Comfortable, relaxing touches. A room with a view. Enough space to move around in. A fountain. A fireplace. A family room. Books. Art on the walls. Plants and flowers. Classical music playing. Comfortable chairs and couches. Pets and kids playing. Unique decorating and unique items. An attached garage for lousy prairie weather.

for the most part.

Re. living in the future. I have also spent a lot of time organizing for the future: trips, appointments, events. I still keep daytimers with a week-at-a-time focus. The ultimate future planning I have done is to pay for my funeral in advance to give my family a break at the time of my passing. My choice, on my own terms, as usual.

Icefields Parkway on a nice summer day.

life lived in the happy moments of being or becoming.

sans mobility.

If you lack a car or a bike, for instance.

Then there are the various physical problems that arise like knee, leg, or hip injuries, usually taking weeks, months, and sometimes years to recover from. And sometimes there are ‘no ways back’–only limping, canes, and wheelchairs. Limitations that begin to shrink one’s world and possibilities, like travel for instance, let alone shovelling snow and mowing lawns.

I do appreciate the double cataract surgeries this year for sure. It is nice to have basic 20/20 back and be able to see distances and details once more. But my current bout of osteoarthritis in a knee really brings home the reality of pain (a la dental, in the head is pretty bad, too), and the onset of limited possibilities otherwise.

All these adverse physical limits and those of aging in general shrink and downsize a person’s world and life. This process is the total opposite of limitless possibilities people are generally born with. And with that, one’s individual freedom–the sacred thing that by itself alone makes life worth living or enduring.

Myriad possibilities, freedom, mobility, good health, and positive relationships–the best of life we often take for granted or, blindly, assume will never end.

Grade 8 and I discovered the ’60s world of Sandy Nelson on one of my girlfriend’s sister’s LPs–Let There Be Drums, featuring the minor hit of the same title. I eventually bought several of his albums and he quickly became my favorite drummer standing out with his unique albums which featured concept solos.

I was living in an apartment block though at the time, and the dream of owning a kit and learning to play was not destined to happen. The hootenanny era was just beginning to peak and I turned, instead, to guitar, and was quickly self-taught. The Kingston Trio’s “Tom Dooley” was an easy first-play followed by The Kinks’ “A Well Respected Man”. Chords led me into playing folk, folk rock, and eventually rock.

For the record, some of Sandy’s best work with extended solos made it to CD and quickly became an expensive sold-out collector’s item. He still plays despite losing a foot and part of a leg in an accident in the late ’60s. An amazing guy and a legendary player and promoter of drums.

people’s arthritis and rheumatism continues and worsens. (My own osteoarthritic knee a case in point. Takin’ ‘er easy with the young grandson, too sick for school on his birthday, coming over for a second afternoon.
Cancelled the g-sale (weather too iffy for the weekend); rest of family could use the time and break.
It’s all comin’ together: the nonstop rainy days, the damned crows gathering and magpies (with their squawky newborns), Trump’s unshakeable brain-dead supporters, his concentration camps, the dormant pipelines, the smoke from the wildfires, the horns growing on the backs of young cellphone users’ heads….
The world is clearly in other hands. Or as Gene Wilder raved in Young Frankenstein: “Destiny, destiny. No escaping destiny.”

(the bright light of today as seen yesterday afternoon with his beloved cars)

“Haply I think on thee, and then my state,                                                                                  Like to the lark at break of day arising                                                                                             From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate.”  –Shakespeare