I gazed out the window to look at my once beautiful garden, which I was so proud of, and thought, eh. Winter is coming, and all the weeds and flowers will die, and the wind will sweep them away. Unfortunately, all of my weeds will be swept away, but my neighbors will be swept in. The bottom line is equal part ugly. I often wondered how long it would take for nature to reclaim a manicured garden. I’d say about three years because right now, it has been neglected for two years and it is almost natural. My idea is to hire a bulldozer to come and scrape the entire yard clean. That would give me about three months of pleasure until the weeds take over again. Guys like me belong in senior homes where there are no gardens to look after. If I were to go there, I would probably sit in regret for having left my independence and my weedy garden. My brother is in that situation. He sits in his retirement community in the heart of the city watching cars and busses flow past his window and dreams about escaping to his summer home in Michigan. He sits with as many pots of flowers as will fit on his window sill to substitute for the fabulous garden he gave up. His kids removed his driving privileges and car keys two years ago and he is left to cruise the hallways with his walker while leading a conga line of seniors shuffling after. He spends his hours spreading cheer and doing good deeds for his fellow senior neighbors. At ninety-three he still dreams of traveling except he is left to the mercy of his kids who still lead active lives.
Most of us have the small problem of a money shortage. If we had money, we could hire a full-time caretaker or two to drive us wherever we wanted. They would also manage our pill boxes, pack our clothing, and provide an occasional meal. All we would have to do is wake up, brush our teeth, dress, climb into the car, and instruct “Westward ho James.”
During the garden season, we would sit in a wheelchair and direct the caretaker to pull this weed, cut that branch, and plant the rose bush here. There are many people who live like that. My problem is finding caretakers who know the difference between a flower and a weed and, of course, finding the $300 plus per day to make it happen. Instead, I sit and watch YouTube videos and feel my muscles melting away. My fingers and hands begin to develop tendonitis from overuse of the keyboard, and I wonder what my options will be when I reach the next stage.
Reading fiction novels is an excellent way to waste my years, and I read at least one book per week. Once in a while, I’ll pick a political science book or some other non-fiction genre, and it’ll take me two weeks to finish because I fall asleep too often with the boredom of facts, figures, and theories of how to improve the world. After reading so many murder mysteries, I avoid them because they romanticize killing. The next more popular genre is love stories, they bore me to tears. What I do find interesting a is a good love story salted with many erotic scenes. They remind me of my ‘good old days.’ Biographies are good. They are intriguing, and I love to know how people spent their lives as compared to my own.
After twelve years of blogging, even this hobby is becoming tiresome. I overthink what to write, but my life is the same every day, and it seems I have nothing interesting to say anymore. Politics has been a fun topic, but hundreds of political people are writing about every political speech, tactic, lie, and activity of candidates. Who cares what I have to say? So why waste valuable time saying it.
In my younger years, I would take a bike ride to get my juices flowing again, but this year, I finally sold my trusty recumbent bicycle and have already spent the money I got for it. I’m running out of options to discuss here, which prompts me to go and eat a sandwich.
Filed under: Aging, family, Funk | Tagged: depression, Sleep Deprivation, things to do |
One may be too small a number to write for but I can say I read your posts with interest. To me it is an insight into life halfway across the world that is honest and not written with the need to sell something.
Also witnessing some of the struggles of ageing with my mother, who is 83, and lives 2.5 hours away. Old-age homes are not common here, though rapidly gaining in popularity. At present, at some stage, most seniors would go on to live with one of their children. But India is a crowded place and homes are becoming smaller too. Cannot say if there is a perfect, elegant solution.
Wish you good health!
My father always told me, “Don’t get old.” I’m finally beginning to understand what he meant.
The world of Today Grupa, I guess we have to accept it.
I probably would go to McDonalds to try their chicken burger ????????
Rich D