Thoughts on aging
“Here we are again,” I say to my silly dog every morning as I get up.
“Why am I still here?” I ask.
“I ask myself that too,” said a similarly bereaved friend I ate out with the other night. I and others bereaved do one restaurant eat-out per week. My friend is also in my aquatic balance-training class.
“My wife was the one supposed to make 100,” I say.
“Oh you might make it,” a friend told me. He just turned 94. “You keep doing what you do, and you’ll probably make it.”
I never smoked, no alcohol the past five years, and hardly ever before that. I used to run, and I walk my Irish Setter most every day, usually three honest miles or more.
My wife’s mother made 100; she outlived her daughter who died of cancer seven years ago. My wife’s aunt made 98, and her grandmother made 96.
My paternal grandfather made 93, but my mother’s side wasn’t so long-lived.
More importantly I’m not bored, and I’m not lonely. I live by myself with my dog, and here I am writing. I always could entertain myself, a legacy of my difficult childhood I suppose.
Now it’s writing, and processing train photographs. I used to draw, but my stroke ended that.
My brother and I chase and photograph trains around Altoona, PA, where the old Pennsylvania Railroad crossed Allegheny Mountain.
The railroad is now Norfolk Southern, and I learned a lot from my brother, mainly lighting. My brother also learned a few things from me. We have a wonderful time, especially the snide remarks.
Dogs don’t last forever. I already lost one since my wife died. My newest dog, Killian, was because I was physically falling apart without a dog. Killian is 10, and I’ve only had him a year. He’s a rescue, a divorce victim.
10 or not Killian is the craziest and most energetic Irish Setter I ever had. The one before was extremely energetic, but not as wild and crazy.
He hasn’t thrown me down yet, although he almost did the other day. After six Irish Setters, I learned how to walk an Irish Setter. Retractible leash at full extension (15 feet), so he doesn’t suddenly pull me down.
Another friend who I recently walked dogs with told me “he needs discipline.”
Whoa! He’s an Irish Setter. I want him to have a happy life.
“You gotta show yer dog who’s boss.”
“No treats unless you eat that supper!” He knows who the boss-dog is.
He’s my fifth rescue. One was severely mistreated. That one was thrilled to finally have a happy home. We lost him to cancer, also at age-10. His name was also Killian.
At age-10 I figure four or five more years. Then what?
At age-75 I wonder if I should get another Irish Setter? In five years I’ll be 80. Rescue yes, but no youngsters. Puppies are especially unfair.
What I think about is how much I loath falling apart physically. An Irish Setter wants to walk me, and not just around the block.
I’d rather remain active. Maybe #7 won’t be my last.
• My wife died April 17th, 2012.
• I had a stroke October 26th, 1993 from an undiagnosed heart-defect since repaired. I pretty much recovered, but it took my ability to draw and play piano. I can pass for never having had a stroke. I no longer can hold a tune.
“Why am I still here?” I ask.
“I ask myself that too,” said a similarly bereaved friend I ate out with the other night. I and others bereaved do one restaurant eat-out per week. My friend is also in my aquatic balance-training class.
“My wife was the one supposed to make 100,” I say.
“Oh you might make it,” a friend told me. He just turned 94. “You keep doing what you do, and you’ll probably make it.”
I never smoked, no alcohol the past five years, and hardly ever before that. I used to run, and I walk my Irish Setter most every day, usually three honest miles or more.
My wife’s mother made 100; she outlived her daughter who died of cancer seven years ago. My wife’s aunt made 98, and her grandmother made 96.
My paternal grandfather made 93, but my mother’s side wasn’t so long-lived.
More importantly I’m not bored, and I’m not lonely. I live by myself with my dog, and here I am writing. I always could entertain myself, a legacy of my difficult childhood I suppose.
Now it’s writing, and processing train photographs. I used to draw, but my stroke ended that.
My brother and I chase and photograph trains around Altoona, PA, where the old Pennsylvania Railroad crossed Allegheny Mountain.
The railroad is now Norfolk Southern, and I learned a lot from my brother, mainly lighting. My brother also learned a few things from me. We have a wonderful time, especially the snide remarks.
Dogs don’t last forever. I already lost one since my wife died. My newest dog, Killian, was because I was physically falling apart without a dog. Killian is 10, and I’ve only had him a year. He’s a rescue, a divorce victim.
10 or not Killian is the craziest and most energetic Irish Setter I ever had. The one before was extremely energetic, but not as wild and crazy.
He hasn’t thrown me down yet, although he almost did the other day. After six Irish Setters, I learned how to walk an Irish Setter. Retractible leash at full extension (15 feet), so he doesn’t suddenly pull me down.
Another friend who I recently walked dogs with told me “he needs discipline.”
Whoa! He’s an Irish Setter. I want him to have a happy life.
“You gotta show yer dog who’s boss.”
“No treats unless you eat that supper!” He knows who the boss-dog is.
He’s my fifth rescue. One was severely mistreated. That one was thrilled to finally have a happy home. We lost him to cancer, also at age-10. His name was also Killian.
At age-10 I figure four or five more years. Then what?
At age-75 I wonder if I should get another Irish Setter? In five years I’ll be 80. Rescue yes, but no youngsters. Puppies are especially unfair.
What I think about is how much I loath falling apart physically. An Irish Setter wants to walk me, and not just around the block.
I’d rather remain active. Maybe #7 won’t be my last.
• My wife died April 17th, 2012.
• I had a stroke October 26th, 1993 from an undiagnosed heart-defect since repaired. I pretty much recovered, but it took my ability to draw and play piano. I can pass for never having had a stroke. I no longer can hold a tune.
posted by BobbaLew at 3:38 PM
1 Comments:
I meant to say this before - it is so great that you have your brother. What a pair you must be. But to share the obsession of trains is a sweet gift. You are the older, I think? I have a brother older and one younger. Two sisters, too. Would be in trouble without them. I think you are one of several also. We didn't have much time for each other in the young days - but now - how important they are!
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