Middle age plus

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Two weeks ago we were sitting outside on our dry lawn looking out at our rapidly shrinking pond. There was about ten feet of dirt, grass etc. lying exposed where water would usually have covered it. We commented that the only part of the lawn that needed mowing was that little strip where the grass/weeds had enough moisture to send up stalks of grass. I remarked that I would get that part mowed down before we got any rains. That night the rains began and didn't stop until we had approximately ten inches over the Labor Day weekend. And as you can guess, within a day, weeds and grasses were sticking up a foot or more through the water where the pond became full again. I had missed my opportunity to go into the winter with a nice, weed-free shoreline by our front yard pond. I remember reading a column by the late Glessie Ewing, who was what was then called the 'Society Editor' of the Nevada Daily Mail. This was in the late 1950s. In her column, which was written in the early winter, she was bemoaning the fact that she hadn't cleaned out a fencerow and 'now the weeds will be there to reproach me all winter'. I doubt that anyone will remember any words of my columns fifty years from now, but each fall I think of her words as I try to get things done, or, more often, as I neglect to do them. The grass in the pond will be there to reproach me all winter. (I tried to mow some of them down today but almost got the John Deere stuck so I gave up on it.) This isn't the only missed opportunity I have experienced lately. In these middle age plus years, many of our peers are dying or getting beyond being able to come for a visit, or meet us for a meal somewhere. Each time that happens we reproach ourselves that we hadn't made more of an effort to get together with these friends. It was something we wanted to do. We just hadn't gotten around to doing it. Since we have lived in so many different places, it is hard to keep up with all of our friends, but we really want to continue our friendships. Unwritten cards, unremembered special dates, and unanswered invitations reproach us, not only all winter, but continually. Missed opportunities happen with younger people also. I mourn for the nights we were too tired to read a bedtime story again, the times we forgot to put the Sunday School art work on the refrigerator, or the missed chances to brag on an achievement but found time to criticize the mess in his room. Hopefully some of these non-actions will be balanced by things we did do with the children, but those missed ones remain to reproach us in our memory. Possibly the most important missed opportunity is about how we treat ourselves. Maybe instead of sitting here berating myself for what I haven't done, I should go do something about my lapses. I could write that card to Louise, or I could call Mary, invite Marilyn over to play a game, or bake some brownies for supper. But it is such a pretty day; it feels good to sit outside. I have a book I want to read, and I have a full hour before suppertime. I don't want to go through the whole winter reproaching myself because I missed the opportunity to enjoy a perfect September day.

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