The Final Event Horizon
Good news, bad news, the final horizon?
I received a call at 8am this morning, it was an expected call and so not a nasty surprise as are some "good news-bad news" calls that arrive at our domicile with a raucous jangle, or if you're a techie, some goofy excerpt from a song by the Grateful Dead on your Blackberry.
At any rate, this was one to define the "last milestone, the final event horizon" of what I jokingly call "my life" - yes, I knew that would get your attention.
In our society (and probably others) we have engrained in us a need to measure out our lives in milestones, sort of goals that are markers achieved. First as kids we want to be like older kids (whatever that means) and not have to sit at the little table, or use a booster chair. Then as we begin our actual education about our world we look to be a teenager, like that is going to have some epic effect on our lives, we'll have super powers or something? - once achieved we now see the next higher mountain, in our path to who-knows-where, and that is 16 because that is when we can drive - ah yes, the great American experience, actually motivate and herding a 4,000 pound monster down the highway at unthinkable speeds to wherever we want (or can afford) to go, this is great!
But, we're still kids and the next mountain is 18 which seems forever because it's the first really good news/bad news hurdle, at 18 you become an "adult" at least in some respects in our society, we are now of legal age to do stupid things, drink, get married (of course in Arkansas that's age 14) etc. and the bad news for guys is that you have to register for the military - wow, didn't see that one coming. Even though we don't have a draft, and aren't likely to ever again (yes, political correctness and woman's rights would dictate drafting girls as well which ain't 'gonna happen) it's still a legal requirement we "register" and get the old name on the government books just in case.
Next we're now looking at age 21, what a wonderful time that will be, we're in college, or out on our own working by this time. This is also one of three milestones for girls, you're looking seriously for Mr. Right so you can convert the BS you went to college to get into an MRS. Further facts: if not married by about 23, when all your friends are, you enter a depressing period of being the one who "isn't married yet" and is available as a brides maid (they make movies about this period). Then at about age 26-28 you get a reprieve because the friends who got married early are now divorcing and desperate to find Mr. Right #2 to support the kids and so you're not as obvious in your non-married state and in fact, more marketable as you're 26 and NO KIDS which means you can go out on a date without consideration of a baby sitter (trust me that's a BIG plus).
But, if you don't catch the golden ring on this pass, you begin to dread the big 3-0 and all that means in our culture, so beyond the dread of actually being 30, you are not yet married and you will quietly slink into the 30's when old Aunts, Grandmom etc. at family gatherings start looking out of the corner of their eyes whispering "what's the matter with Elsie?" - and finally confronting you with the obvious questions: "well dearie, is there anyone special?" - and you're afraid to actually bring a guy to one of these gatherings as you know he'll be humiliated and browbeaten by the well meaning family matriarchs. Finally girls not married by around 35 are basically written off as spinsters and all the probing questions cease.
Now, guys during all this period have enjoyed a smooth ride, they get a free pass on this sort of marriage foolishness, they don't have a biological clock, they have cell phone tones and they only have to deal with "finally" turning 30, but it's pretty much of a snooze once the hangover subsides.
At this point both sexes join together in the dread of 40 whether burdened by curtain climbers and rug rats or just happily cruising more and more alone as your friends are getting married and you find yourself accompanied only by your conscience on a Friday night. So, together you dread the big 4-0 and of course there is a big demeaning party with stupid signs and poems on cards like "now that your old and feeble and your pilot lights gone out, what used to be your sex appeal is now your water spout" etc. You bravely endure and smile, but deep inside there is a tiny red flag being waving that says; "statistically you're past half way in your life" - which of course means you're middle aged?
Of course middle age in our society doesn't actually come until the next mountain we call the BIG 5-0! So now we are beginning to hear the clock ticking and at times we "feel the years" especially after trying to do something bone stupid like haul a 75 lb. bucket of roof sealer up onto the roof, or prove to your kids you can still shoot hoops with the best of them - until the next day when you can't get out of bed. But hey, no one notices 60 coming up on your road to forever, so who cares right?
And really, who has big celebrations at 60? - so, you're really now beginning to focus on 65 (or now 66+ for some of us) and retirement. You've taken about all you can from the corporate world, the government, you ex-wife etc. so maybe climbing this last mountain, you've lived so long to conquer, will heal all things and make it right? - you hope and pray. But you truly have reached "middle age" which is defined as "too old for women (or men) to care and too young for Medicare".
Looking in the rear view mirror, somewhere back along the way an odd thing begins to happen very subtly, at about age 25 your internal clock stops, oh I don't mean really, but your mental clock stops, you are over 21, an adult, but definitely not 30 and so you're 25 - - - until you look in the mirror and see this old guy looking back. This doesn't seem to change and is rather universal with most people if you ask them to quickly tell you what age they are internally, they'll say 25 - what a golden age for many or most of us. Beware, reality lurks in the mirror each morning, the face of age doth reveal the truth.
The years in the 60's are generally unremarkable, you're too old to be a hero at work, your Gkids see you as ancient, noteworthy goals are almost non-existent and the driving spirit that made you the maverick, and fighter of past decades, has sort of noodled out and there you stand, an old man (or woman) with only the big 6-5 as your last goal - and you don't even fear this one, it's just become a matter of "I can't stop it, bring it on".
Fast forward and focus on 8am this morning: the telephone rang and a nice lady from the American Consulate in Guadalajara called to take my application for - yes, Social Security benefits. It was one of those moments that looks like something out of a movie when time almost stands still and they do one of those odd optical zoom shots where the person is moved forward in the scene while everything around them stays the same. Everything (good and bad) suddenly and inexplicably comes into crystal clear focus and all the years, days and moments of your existence are focused like a laser. This moment was created in time and space for you alone to utter those words "SHOW ME THE MONEY" - oops, did I say that out loud?
Suddenly, the reality of it all crashed in on me at that moment this morning, nearly 66 years of life passed before my eyes, wives, kids, jobs, joy, sadness, good things I did and achieved, failures, all the things we call "life" that have been done and passed, all the things we can never do again (or want to in some cases) are flashing before you and it looks like something out of a 70's disco with flashing strobe lights because you know when the lady asks "do you want to apply for Social Security Benefits" - and you stutter out those unthinkable words "yes, please" you have just approached, and flung yourself across, that final event horizon, that place which seemed infinitely far away all your life - the big "good news, bad news" time when the good news is that you are now on a fixed income? - and the bad news is that it ain't nearly as big as your requirements.
You are now officially ancient, even by government standards, you are too old to work for yourself and family (except maybe at WalMart as a greeter) you have nothing much left to contribute intellectually. Except for a monthly stipend you are alone in your dotage. No one, except your cat, expects much from you, achievements are far behind you, it's basically too late to learn much of anything new that would benefit mankind.
You have suddenly arrived at this "event" which just sort of appeared out of nowhere - and yet when you sit and think you can mark almost every one of those 66 years either in pictures and mementoes of the years, plaques of thanks for achievements from companies which no longer exist and memories that mean nothing to anyone else but you, but you will continue to relate them to disinterested people as long as you breath.
Well, now that I've dumped all this depressing stuff on y'all, guess I'll put on my shorts, it's 65 degrees and (of course) the sun is out so I can sit by the pool and imagine what I would be doing today had I married that good looking young rich sweetie all those years ago - boy, is she missing a good thing.
I received a call at 8am this morning, it was an expected call and so not a nasty surprise as are some "good news-bad news" calls that arrive at our domicile with a raucous jangle, or if you're a techie, some goofy excerpt from a song by the Grateful Dead on your Blackberry.
At any rate, this was one to define the "last milestone, the final event horizon" of what I jokingly call "my life" - yes, I knew that would get your attention.
In our society (and probably others) we have engrained in us a need to measure out our lives in milestones, sort of goals that are markers achieved. First as kids we want to be like older kids (whatever that means) and not have to sit at the little table, or use a booster chair. Then as we begin our actual education about our world we look to be a teenager, like that is going to have some epic effect on our lives, we'll have super powers or something? - once achieved we now see the next higher mountain, in our path to who-knows-where, and that is 16 because that is when we can drive - ah yes, the great American experience, actually motivate and herding a 4,000 pound monster down the highway at unthinkable speeds to wherever we want (or can afford) to go, this is great!
But, we're still kids and the next mountain is 18 which seems forever because it's the first really good news/bad news hurdle, at 18 you become an "adult" at least in some respects in our society, we are now of legal age to do stupid things, drink, get married (of course in Arkansas that's age 14) etc. and the bad news for guys is that you have to register for the military - wow, didn't see that one coming. Even though we don't have a draft, and aren't likely to ever again (yes, political correctness and woman's rights would dictate drafting girls as well which ain't 'gonna happen) it's still a legal requirement we "register" and get the old name on the government books just in case.
Next we're now looking at age 21, what a wonderful time that will be, we're in college, or out on our own working by this time. This is also one of three milestones for girls, you're looking seriously for Mr. Right so you can convert the BS you went to college to get into an MRS. Further facts: if not married by about 23, when all your friends are, you enter a depressing period of being the one who "isn't married yet" and is available as a brides maid (they make movies about this period). Then at about age 26-28 you get a reprieve because the friends who got married early are now divorcing and desperate to find Mr. Right #2 to support the kids and so you're not as obvious in your non-married state and in fact, more marketable as you're 26 and NO KIDS which means you can go out on a date without consideration of a baby sitter (trust me that's a BIG plus).
But, if you don't catch the golden ring on this pass, you begin to dread the big 3-0 and all that means in our culture, so beyond the dread of actually being 30, you are not yet married and you will quietly slink into the 30's when old Aunts, Grandmom etc. at family gatherings start looking out of the corner of their eyes whispering "what's the matter with Elsie?" - and finally confronting you with the obvious questions: "well dearie, is there anyone special?" - and you're afraid to actually bring a guy to one of these gatherings as you know he'll be humiliated and browbeaten by the well meaning family matriarchs. Finally girls not married by around 35 are basically written off as spinsters and all the probing questions cease.
Now, guys during all this period have enjoyed a smooth ride, they get a free pass on this sort of marriage foolishness, they don't have a biological clock, they have cell phone tones and they only have to deal with "finally" turning 30, but it's pretty much of a snooze once the hangover subsides.
At this point both sexes join together in the dread of 40 whether burdened by curtain climbers and rug rats or just happily cruising more and more alone as your friends are getting married and you find yourself accompanied only by your conscience on a Friday night. So, together you dread the big 4-0 and of course there is a big demeaning party with stupid signs and poems on cards like "now that your old and feeble and your pilot lights gone out, what used to be your sex appeal is now your water spout" etc. You bravely endure and smile, but deep inside there is a tiny red flag being waving that says; "statistically you're past half way in your life" - which of course means you're middle aged?
Of course middle age in our society doesn't actually come until the next mountain we call the BIG 5-0! So now we are beginning to hear the clock ticking and at times we "feel the years" especially after trying to do something bone stupid like haul a 75 lb. bucket of roof sealer up onto the roof, or prove to your kids you can still shoot hoops with the best of them - until the next day when you can't get out of bed. But hey, no one notices 60 coming up on your road to forever, so who cares right?
And really, who has big celebrations at 60? - so, you're really now beginning to focus on 65 (or now 66+ for some of us) and retirement. You've taken about all you can from the corporate world, the government, you ex-wife etc. so maybe climbing this last mountain, you've lived so long to conquer, will heal all things and make it right? - you hope and pray. But you truly have reached "middle age" which is defined as "too old for women (or men) to care and too young for Medicare".
Looking in the rear view mirror, somewhere back along the way an odd thing begins to happen very subtly, at about age 25 your internal clock stops, oh I don't mean really, but your mental clock stops, you are over 21, an adult, but definitely not 30 and so you're 25 - - - until you look in the mirror and see this old guy looking back. This doesn't seem to change and is rather universal with most people if you ask them to quickly tell you what age they are internally, they'll say 25 - what a golden age for many or most of us. Beware, reality lurks in the mirror each morning, the face of age doth reveal the truth.
The years in the 60's are generally unremarkable, you're too old to be a hero at work, your Gkids see you as ancient, noteworthy goals are almost non-existent and the driving spirit that made you the maverick, and fighter of past decades, has sort of noodled out and there you stand, an old man (or woman) with only the big 6-5 as your last goal - and you don't even fear this one, it's just become a matter of "I can't stop it, bring it on".
Fast forward and focus on 8am this morning: the telephone rang and a nice lady from the American Consulate in Guadalajara called to take my application for - yes, Social Security benefits. It was one of those moments that looks like something out of a movie when time almost stands still and they do one of those odd optical zoom shots where the person is moved forward in the scene while everything around them stays the same. Everything (good and bad) suddenly and inexplicably comes into crystal clear focus and all the years, days and moments of your existence are focused like a laser. This moment was created in time and space for you alone to utter those words "SHOW ME THE MONEY" - oops, did I say that out loud?
Suddenly, the reality of it all crashed in on me at that moment this morning, nearly 66 years of life passed before my eyes, wives, kids, jobs, joy, sadness, good things I did and achieved, failures, all the things we call "life" that have been done and passed, all the things we can never do again (or want to in some cases) are flashing before you and it looks like something out of a 70's disco with flashing strobe lights because you know when the lady asks "do you want to apply for Social Security Benefits" - and you stutter out those unthinkable words "yes, please" you have just approached, and flung yourself across, that final event horizon, that place which seemed infinitely far away all your life - the big "good news, bad news" time when the good news is that you are now on a fixed income? - and the bad news is that it ain't nearly as big as your requirements.
You are now officially ancient, even by government standards, you are too old to work for yourself and family (except maybe at WalMart as a greeter) you have nothing much left to contribute intellectually. Except for a monthly stipend you are alone in your dotage. No one, except your cat, expects much from you, achievements are far behind you, it's basically too late to learn much of anything new that would benefit mankind.
You have suddenly arrived at this "event" which just sort of appeared out of nowhere - and yet when you sit and think you can mark almost every one of those 66 years either in pictures and mementoes of the years, plaques of thanks for achievements from companies which no longer exist and memories that mean nothing to anyone else but you, but you will continue to relate them to disinterested people as long as you breath.
Well, now that I've dumped all this depressing stuff on y'all, guess I'll put on my shorts, it's 65 degrees and (of course) the sun is out so I can sit by the pool and imagine what I would be doing today had I married that good looking young rich sweetie all those years ago - boy, is she missing a good thing.
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