Maudlin Evening

I have been reading comments from my friends on Facebook today. Like most days, these comments show the agony and the ecstasy of life and some of the insanity of the world. I rejoice in all of them. My friends constantly prove my point about life...it is wonderful and I am fortunate to still be a part of it and to have all of you.

I don't get maudlin often. But tonight as I write this, I am. Not maudlin sad, but maudlin happy. Maudlin means that I am sentimental. I have been reconnecting with friends from my childhood lately, and this has made me deeply engrossed in memories. Let's face it, I am not getting any younger, and neither are they.

We are getting to the age when more of us are going to get sick, break a hip, or sadly, go that great cornfield in the sky. (That's what Cornjerkers do!)

Funny thing, though about memories. None of us age. I remember all my female friends just as I saw them 40 years ago, and all my male friends are young virile bucks. My humor is still somewhat sophomoric and when I think, I have thoughts of an 18 year old. I AM NOT 56, ALMOST 57! I refuse to get old! I move a little slower, I ache a little more, and my stamina is not what it was. BUT I AM NOT OLD!

Remember when the slogan was "Never trust anyone over 30"? Now, it is "Don't trust anyone under 30! Especially if they happen to be doing the hiring!" My experience is now my kryptonite. My resume which used to be my cape, is now the knife that goes in my back. And the phrase, "although your resume was impressive..." Really means, "You are far too old for this job"

My friends and I are moving slowly to the back of the bus. We should not, however, go quietly. We know the value of a dollar, we know how to earn it! We remember the important things like being on time, keeping a neat desk, returning a call or an email, or a snail mail. And we can concentrate for longer than 3 minutes without medication ( in most cases).

You folks who are 50ish understand. We are buying more motorcycles, Ipods, and watercraft than anyone else. Dylan Thomas wrote Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night just for us:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at the close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right;
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Love to all of you. I miss you when we are not together...

Doughnut