How it works
Here’s how my life works: I’ve been grumpy lately; some might say grumpier. My birthday was coming, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to acknowledge being 70, much less being that old. Lydia has been getting rid of piles and boxes of oddments collected over the years. Tossing old, useless bits of cards, posters, and other relics should be painless, but I found myself reluctant to let go of some things. They reminded me of past bits and pieces of my life.
My birthday came and my daughter-in-law, a bright sweet girl (I know using the term girl is not politically correct, but I am 70 and females of my sons age are girls to me) asked me if I felt any smarter and was I contemplating life from my new perspective. I denied both being smarter and meditating on my life. Consciously, this was true.
This morning I got notification that one of my friends from high school had passed away. Schultzie was one of our group of four. Honestly, we were nerds, smart, interested in science fiction (we traded books constantly), and lacking any athletic ability whatsoever. We lived within a few blocks of each other and had been friends since the sixth grade. In high-school, we were on the debate team. We were afraid of girls.
I moved away in our senior year, 1967, and didn’t return to our hometown for 35 years. I came back for a class reunion. Schultzie did not show up, nor did he appear when I returned for the fiftieth reunion. His obituary picture did not look like the kid I remembered. He had become an engineer and left completed projects all over Colorado. He left two grown children also. It sounded like a life well lived and I was glad for him.
A few minutes ago, I got an email from Kim, my “longest living friend”. We’ve known each other since second grade. He moved to Oregon during fourth grade, and we reconnected when I moved to the very same town during my senior year in high school. We both loved drama. He introduced me to Jack Kerouac; I introduced him to Richard Farina. We’ve been friends ever since. We are the Wyoming TAOBOYS, boys who grew up wearing boots and bolo ties, and Zen. Kim is buoyant, energetic, outgoing, and kind. He exudes joy.
Which brings me to this moment. I’ve just turned 70. I resent losing the mementos of my life. I just lost a childhood friend. Though I had not seen him in 52 years, I felt badly. But also, I just heard from another childhood friend, who wishes me well and congratulates me on making it this far in life. I love him for that.
Things pass away damn it. Bits and pieces break off and fall. There is no denying that, but new things appear, adventures and friends. It is a symbiosis, and everything depends on everything.
And there is the now…Lydia asleep in the bedroom, Annie softly snoring on the floor by my chair, the glow of my lamp, the hum of the fan.
70 is just another day and only what I make of it from what it gives to me.
We are fine here in Oregon. All is well.
barelyaboomer 
I was also sad to hear of Richards’ passing. Like you, I hadn’t seen him in years. Coincidentally, his sister, Marianne, has been helping Bob out with his mother who is 96+ and needs living assistance in Casper as of last July. Marianne was married to an old friend from north Casper days, Jim Hensley, who also passed too soon. I turned 70 on 5/4 and ordered a mug exclaiming that I spent the day in quarantine due to the pandemic which continues to rage and devastate this nation. I guess we can count our blessings that we are still on the ‘up side’ of the ground even though the old bod aches! Take care and give your family members a big ole hug and kiss for us. We’ll keep on keepin’ on!
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I know the feeling well – trying to downsize and get rid of things. The older I get, the more I realize things don’t matter much – it’s the relationships that matter. Still, discarding tiny little remnants of the past is difficult. I often remember exactly where and when I acquired a tidbit. If someone found this tidbit they would throw it in the trash because it has no meaning to them. For me, the emotions come up when I discover something I should toss, but the sentimental value wants to override the necessity to throw it out. These little “pieces of trash” bring back all the memories and the feelings associated with it at the time and it transports you back to that moment. It may make me laugh or make me cry. The feelings are real and need to be acknowledged. Sadly, it only holds meaning to me. Maybe you should take some of those things and show them to the kids and grands and tell them the significance of it and explain exactly what it meant, why it was important, what your feelings are when you pick it up. Plus, you can tell them how it affected your life and any adjustments you made that changed you for the better or for the worse.
The struggle is real as life grows shorter.
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Dave, I enjoyed reading your reflection on turning 70. I just turned 71 last month and can identify with losing old friends and having to de clutter our house of mementos, so our kids won’t have to deal with it when I leave this world. Wishing you good health and many happy times in the coming year.
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I am on the same track with cherishing my mementos and the fond (or not so fond but important just the same) memories they bring, only to be ripped back into “real life” when one of the kids or grandkids opens my door and I realize they have no knowledge of the life I lived before. I love your writing and have been thinking for sometime of starting to capture certain special moments in a journal, just for me for now, but perhaps when I’m gone for one of my descendants who wonders what I felt or cared about. Thanks for sharing so generously.
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