I'm really happy with where I am nearly 60 years after I was born at Castle AFB in Merced, CA. But I coulda done better. So here, not in order of importance, are mistakes I made or regrets I have:
1. I shouldn't have broken up with Cathy Webb in high school. And I DEFINITELY shouldn't have done it in such a mean, immature way. The fact that we are still friends is a testament to her character.
2. I drank WAY too much alcohol from the time I joined the air force to the emergency trip to the hospital in Utrecht. It's ludicrous that it took that kind of wake-up call for me to finally understand that alcohol was killing me. If I had saved just half of what I wasted on drinking, I wouldn't be borrowing money to put my boys through college. I wouldn't mind having some of those brain cells back, either.
3. I wish I could have found a way to be more peaceful about the inevitable divorce in my first marriage. We were polar opposites and couldn't possibly have stayed together, but the only way we could figure that out was by making each other miserable for the last 5 years of our 7-year marriage. We are still friends because we realize it was nobody's fault and we both made huge mistakes.
4. I have been unnecessarily mean to quite a few people in my life. I'm truly sorry for that. It's always been a goal of mine to help other people have a more joyful life, but for some, I made life more miserable. I try to atone by helping people whenever I can.
You know what? I think that's it. I don't have that much to regret. Next up: financial standing.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
0 to 60
OK, so Wednesday I turn 60. Lots of friends and family have already hit this milestone. They haven't made many comments about it, really, but that's not my nature. So this first post will be a physical inventory of sorts.
I've gotten to 60 in pretty good shape, I think. I'm still healthy enough to work and to go overseas, to support my wife and pay for college for three sons. That's the good news.
Problem #1: My gut. I have this rather large spare tire around my middle. The rest of me isn't fat at all - not my butt, not my legs or arms or chest. Just this big belly. So I could make lots of excuses that it's ok. I am, after all, 60 freakin' years old. But I know all those extra blood vessels and all that extra distance my blood has to cover make my aging heart work harder than it ought to. It keeps my blood pressure up higher than it should be. It makes me tired because I'm carrying 25 pounds extra around with me all day. The funny thing is, I know it wouldn't be hard to get rid of it. Eat less, eat healthier, exercise more. I do need to be healthy enough to work for 7 more years and there's WAY too much evidence around me that I can't take those 7 years for granted. So I know I need to take steps. I have a supportive wife and my sons all want me to stick around for a few more years. I should do this. I will, too. I hope.
Problem #2: Eyes and ears (I'm putting them together as aging senses). I'm nearly deaf in my left ear and will see a doctor about it on Tuesday, the day before my 60th birthday. I won't accept an operation, but a hearing aid would be ok. My eyes are just old. I can't read newspapers or magazines without my glasses any more. I try sometimes, but can only stare at the fuzzy lines that used to be letters. This has been happening gradually. Already 15 years ago, when I got out of the army, I knew I couldn't see the farthest targets anymore. But this problem is so gradual it doesn't always seem like a problem at all. The boiling frog, I suppose.
Problem #3: I'm kind of beat up, mostly from my army days. Both hands have been broken twice. I broke my collar bone once. My nose was broken once, too. My neck and back are occasional problems, but have actually been better the last few years, so I guess I can't complain.
Problem #4: My thyroid. As long as I take my medication, it really isn't a problem. Since half of it has been taken out, I know I'll have to take the synthroid for the rest of my life, but we old people get used to pills, I guess.
Problem #5: Arthritis. It's worse in my right wrist, but my left hand is occasionally bothered, too. I suppose this one has the potential to be a much bigger problem, but right now it's not even bad enough to require medication - just an Aleve or two for pain sometimes.
Everything else would have to be classified as minor. All in all, you could just say I'm getting old, which is pretty much what 60 is anyway. As one of my friends put it, "Welcome to the club."
I've gotten to 60 in pretty good shape, I think. I'm still healthy enough to work and to go overseas, to support my wife and pay for college for three sons. That's the good news.
Problem #1: My gut. I have this rather large spare tire around my middle. The rest of me isn't fat at all - not my butt, not my legs or arms or chest. Just this big belly. So I could make lots of excuses that it's ok. I am, after all, 60 freakin' years old. But I know all those extra blood vessels and all that extra distance my blood has to cover make my aging heart work harder than it ought to. It keeps my blood pressure up higher than it should be. It makes me tired because I'm carrying 25 pounds extra around with me all day. The funny thing is, I know it wouldn't be hard to get rid of it. Eat less, eat healthier, exercise more. I do need to be healthy enough to work for 7 more years and there's WAY too much evidence around me that I can't take those 7 years for granted. So I know I need to take steps. I have a supportive wife and my sons all want me to stick around for a few more years. I should do this. I will, too. I hope.
Problem #2: Eyes and ears (I'm putting them together as aging senses). I'm nearly deaf in my left ear and will see a doctor about it on Tuesday, the day before my 60th birthday. I won't accept an operation, but a hearing aid would be ok. My eyes are just old. I can't read newspapers or magazines without my glasses any more. I try sometimes, but can only stare at the fuzzy lines that used to be letters. This has been happening gradually. Already 15 years ago, when I got out of the army, I knew I couldn't see the farthest targets anymore. But this problem is so gradual it doesn't always seem like a problem at all. The boiling frog, I suppose.
Problem #3: I'm kind of beat up, mostly from my army days. Both hands have been broken twice. I broke my collar bone once. My nose was broken once, too. My neck and back are occasional problems, but have actually been better the last few years, so I guess I can't complain.
Problem #4: My thyroid. As long as I take my medication, it really isn't a problem. Since half of it has been taken out, I know I'll have to take the synthroid for the rest of my life, but we old people get used to pills, I guess.
Problem #5: Arthritis. It's worse in my right wrist, but my left hand is occasionally bothered, too. I suppose this one has the potential to be a much bigger problem, but right now it's not even bad enough to require medication - just an Aleve or two for pain sometimes.
Everything else would have to be classified as minor. All in all, you could just say I'm getting old, which is pretty much what 60 is anyway. As one of my friends put it, "Welcome to the club."
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Man's inanity to man
I always struggle with this. Why does God let bad things happen to good people? Over the years, I have come to believe that He lets us suffer the consequences of our vices, our ignorance, our meanness of spirit. There's a lot of that going around right now, if you hadn't noticed.
Cancer seems to be a scythe-bearing Death, cutting down people randomly, letting some survive while others don't. I got to thinking what in the world God could be telling us. Then I remembered.
We knowingly surround ourselves with toxins. We have soaps and detergents that are potentially much more dangerous than the germs they're supposed to kill. We buy houses with poison, plastic rugs, sprayed with more poison to protect them from spills. We let processors treat our food with chemicals, wrap it in plastics, then open it and cook it on pans that release toxins as the food cooks. We dump chemicals onto our precious yards, knowing full well that most of those chemicals will wash straight into the groundwater, even as we catch a quick drink from the hose. Our drinks - juices, alcohol, sodas, milk - all contain varying levels of poison. If we drink diet sodas, our bodies turn the sweetener into fomaldehyde in "acceptable" levels; at least the FDA assures it's safe.
If toxins aren't carcinogenic enough for you, we zap our foods in microwave ovens, then hold a microwave transmitter (yep, that's what a cell phone is) next to our brain most of the day. In the end, it's still crushingly sad when good people die of cancer. But we shouldn't claim we're surprised by it. Instead, we should be utterly shocked so many of us survive.
Cancer seems to be a scythe-bearing Death, cutting down people randomly, letting some survive while others don't. I got to thinking what in the world God could be telling us. Then I remembered.
We knowingly surround ourselves with toxins. We have soaps and detergents that are potentially much more dangerous than the germs they're supposed to kill. We buy houses with poison, plastic rugs, sprayed with more poison to protect them from spills. We let processors treat our food with chemicals, wrap it in plastics, then open it and cook it on pans that release toxins as the food cooks. We dump chemicals onto our precious yards, knowing full well that most of those chemicals will wash straight into the groundwater, even as we catch a quick drink from the hose. Our drinks - juices, alcohol, sodas, milk - all contain varying levels of poison. If we drink diet sodas, our bodies turn the sweetener into fomaldehyde in "acceptable" levels; at least the FDA assures it's safe.
If toxins aren't carcinogenic enough for you, we zap our foods in microwave ovens, then hold a microwave transmitter (yep, that's what a cell phone is) next to our brain most of the day. In the end, it's still crushingly sad when good people die of cancer. But we shouldn't claim we're surprised by it. Instead, we should be utterly shocked so many of us survive.
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