Cogitations on Life’s Changes and Rules That No Longer Apply to Me

By G. E. Shuman

          My very dear 96-year-old mother who took off a decade or so ago for the sunny South and now resides (on her own and in her own home) in an adult Florida community, recently said this to me: “I’ve never minded whatever age I am. I just enjoy it all.” Aging has never been something I looked forward to, but I’ve found that talking with an older person, (if you can still FIND an older person,) makes the process much less scary.

          My wife and retired just a year ago, and, so far, have not regretted the decision to do so. We haven’t yet experienced the ‘downside’ of it, and I don’t think we ever will. Retirement actually made dealing with covid-19 a bit easier for us because for the last half of 2019 we weren’t really doing much anyway. Ho Hum. My personal perspective: “Oh, we can’t get near a lot of other people? Dang!” (I didn’t want to do that anyway.)

          We live in what Vermont refers to as a city, but if it were where you live might be passed by as a bump in the road, and that’s fine with retired old me. Just today I heard of a town up here by the name of Lewis, (don’t fact check me) that is home to exactly one resident. Yup. Only one. Even here that’s a small town.

          Anyway, up here it’s easy to sort of blend into the scenery, the green trees, corn fields, the wooded paths, especially if you’re retired, I think. I saw a scene on a TV show recently where an older character’s line was that “If you’re over 65 nobody even sees you.” I think that’s the way it is here. Nobody’s looking for you; nobody suspects you of anything, mostly because they probably think you’re not capable of anything.

          That reminds me of the title of this column and the things I wanted to include in it, which I will now get back to, or into.

          I wanted to discuss with you the rules that no longer apply to me, or, at least, the rules I no longer follow. So, here we go.

          I have heard that the best thing about growing older is that no one expects you to do anything. This is a good one. They may ask to borrow a tool, a vehicle, or some money, but they don’t want your actual help.  They’re probably afraid you’ll die on them. Pretty cool if you think about it.

          Another thing is that no one says you must get out of bed and get ready for work anymore. In fact, if you have gray hair and just stop showing up for work, some people won’t notice; other people will be glad. This is not a bad thing. From my viewpoint, it’s all good.

          I have also recently realized that it’s perfectly legal to drive the speed limit, and sometimes even less, especially if you’re older. If you try this, you will certainly hear a horn or two, and receive more than one wave that resembles half a peace sign, but who cares?  Young people drive it like they stole it. I drive it like it’s paid for and I want it to last forever, which I do.

          Another rule that has changed for me is that, even as a married man, I can openly talk with beautiful young women without being suspected of naughty behavior. (Heaven knows I have no energy for naughty behavior.) My wife knows I’m not going anywhere, and also that no beautiful young woman would want to go anywhere with me. This rule change is still very nice.

          In fact, as inferred above, I have no reason to try to impress the opposite sex or anyone else. I knew this was the case and that life was over when I began getting senior discounts at restaurants without even asking for them. I hated that at first. Now I just take the money and run. No, I don’t run. I tried that once as a kid and didn’t enjoy it. I also no longer have to shave every day and have nearly forgotten how to tie a tie. I can exercise if I want to, and not if I don’t want to. No one notices either way.

          Near the end of his life, my wife’s maternal grandfather said to me: “Georgie ol’ boy, when you’re almost 93 you ain’t 16 no more.” I could hardly argue with that. I also once heard a quote from old comedian George Burns. (If you know who George Burns was, you ain’t 16 no more either.) Mr. Burns once bragged: “I can do anything in my nineties that I could do when I was 18.”  He then continued: “That just shows how pathetic I was at 18.”

          As I sit here in our old Vermont home, surrounded by the silence of a sunny Saturday afternoon and thinking of some of the perks of being “not 16 no more,” I’m reminded again of my mom’s advice, to not mind whatever age I am, and to just enjoy it all! She’s always been a very wise woman.

         

Full Moons, Fireflies, and Fireworks

By G. E. Shuman

          As is likely with your family, mine was unable to observe July Fourth in quite the same manner this year as in others. My wife and I usually plan on which fireworks display we will try to attend and invite others to go with us. Last year Lorna’s brother and his wife joined us for the big celebration on the State House lawn in Montpelier. It was a great evening.

          This year we were simply staying home for the night. Lorna is the world’s biggest fireworks fan and the most patriotic person I know, so that saddened me a bit.

          I decided to go downtown and at least get her a tub of her favorite ice cream to celebrate with. I thought that might help.  The store that carries it, on South Main Street in Barre, was out of her brand and flavor, so I tried one on North Main Street. They had the cold treat that I knew would brighten my wife’s evening a bit, so I grabbed a tub and headed home.

          Looking up as I drove toward our house, I couldn’t help but notice the biggest, brightest full moon I could remember ever seeing. Immediately getting on my (hands free) phone, I called Lorna and told her to meet me on the back steps of our house. She was waiting for me when I arrived, and we headed back out into the night, chasing that beautiful moon up the streets through East Barre, where we thought it would not be blocked by trees.

          We were right, and pulled off the road near the East Barre Dam, in awe of the star-studded sky and that immense lunar world just hanging there silently, on the horizon right in front of us. The moon lit the sky and all across the field below tiny fireflies danced in the evening breeze. I could not help but realize that God Himself, the creator of all, is also the author of all true beauty, and that He had provided both the mightiest and the tiniest fireworks possible for Lorna’s and my evening’s pleasure. It was just amazing!

          After arriving home, I decided to head out to the front lawn to water some new grass seed that I had recently planted. I enjoy doing this, as it is very peaceful out there in the near dark, and it is a good time and place to think. When I had finished the watering, I looked up and noticed that Lorna had come out onto the front porch swing, her own place of silent solitude. I soon joined her on the porch, and we sat there looking across the valley that holds downtown Barre.

          Soon, and seemingly building up into a loud and literally sparkling chorus, the whistles and bangs of home-launched fireworks began to echo across the hills near our home. At first there were just a few, and then there were more, and then there were many more.  

          I, of course, have no idea of the true intent of anyone’s heart. Still, I could not help but think, in spite of any virus threat, health-safety or otherwise motivated regulations, or any protest or other hinderance, that these local people wanted to celebrate the Fourth of July, our Independence Day, and that they would, simply, not be stopped from doing so. Partying Patriots of all beginnings and backgrounds, with their families and their friends, had purchased their own fireworks displays and were sharing their celebrations with anyone who wanted to look up into the future, as it was written in the sky over our small city. I could not have been more proud!