And Then It Is Winter

BMT (RIP) · 02-17-2013, 17:29

The seasons of our life

You know. . .
time has a way of moving quickly and catching you unaware
of the passing
years. It seems just yesterday that I was young, just married and
embarking on my new life with my mate. Yet in a way, it seems like eons
ago, and I wonder where all the years went. I know that I lived them
all. I have glimpses of how it was back then and of all my hopes and
dreams.

But, here it is...
the winter of my life and it catches me by surprise. How did I get
here so fast? Where did the years go and where did my youth go? I
remember well...seeing older people through the years and thinking that
those older people were years away from me and that winter was so far
off that I could not fathom it or imagine fully what it would be
like.

But, here it
is. My friends are retired and getting grey...they move slower and
I see an older person now. Some are in better and some in worse shape
than me...but, I see the great change...Not like the friends I
remember who were young and vibrant...but, like me, their age is
beginning to show, and we are now those older folks that we used to see
and never thought we'd be. Each day now, I find that just getting a
shower is a real target for the day! And taking a nap is not a treat
anymore... it's mandatory! Cause if I don't do it of my own free will...
I just fall asleep where I sit!

And so...now I
enter into this new season of my life unprepared for all the aches and
pains and the loss of strength and ability to go and do things that I
wish I had done but never did!! But, at least I know, that the winter
has come, and I'm not sure how long it will last. This I know. . .
when it's over, its over.

Yes, I have
regrets. There are things I wish I hadn't done...things I should have
done, but, indeed, there are many things I'm happy to have done. It's
all in a lifetime.

So, if you're not
in your winter yet...let me remind you, that it will be here faster than
you think. So, whatever you would like to accomplish in your life,
please do it quickly! Don't put things off too long!! Life goes by
quickly. Do what you can today, as you can never be sure whether this is
your winter or not! You have no promise that you will see all the
seasons of your life...so, live for today and say all the things that
you want your loved ones to remember...and hope that they appreciate and
love you for all the things that you have done for them in all the years
past!!

"Life" is a gift
to you. The way you live your life is your gift to those who come after.
Make it a fantastic one.

Remember: It is
health that is real wealth . . . not pieces of gold and
silver.

Life is too short
to let even one day
be frenzied or
frazzled or frittered away.
Life is too short
not to take time to do
the things that
will hold the most meaning for you.

So let yourself
float like a leaf on a stream,
relax with your
memories and let yourself dream.
Throw out your
list that's impossibly long,
and dance a few
steps to a favorite song...

Turn off the news
and go find someone real
who'll listen and
talk and affirm what you feel.
Life is too short
and flies by if you let it
so choose what you
want every day--
and go and get
it.

And then it is Winter.

Dusty · 02-17-2013, 18:25

Quote:

Originally Posted by DocIllinois

This was nice.

Regrets and things undone; yeah, already have a few of those...

Do all old Army farts write prose?

Some of us are poets
Expert at many arts
You'll find yourself in peril
When you say "old Army farts"

Trapper John · 02-17-2013, 18:42

Quote:

Originally Posted by DocIllinois

Do all old Army farts write prose?

Those that have lived hard and full, that have protected others from trouble and harm do!

BMT, in the end it gives meaning and purpose to what we have done and would do all over again. Enjoy the Winter my Brother, yours is a life lived full measure. I know

BMT (RIP) · 02-17-2013, 18:46

I didn't write that, but thought it needed posting!!

BMT

jkirkthomas · 02-17-2013, 18:46

That was indeed nice. BMT, did you write that? If so, you did a damn good job. I can certainly relate to the sudden onset of winter, because mine got here before I knew it. My perspective on old age has changed as I've gotten older, however. I wrote the following after a family reunion, when I observed the younger set's reaction to meeting a bunch of us old fogies.

On Being “Old”

When I was younger, much younger, I didn’t think much of “old age.” I used to look at “old” people and think, “Man, I’d hate to be old. How awful, to be that close to the end!” Now that I’ve become one of those “old” people myself, I’ve acquired a different perspective. Consider this: if you’re 21 years old, I have lived for more than three of your lifetimes. Much has happened, and I wouldn’t change any of it, because the sum total has made me into who I am.

“So?” says the callous youth.

Well . . . I once drove a Volkswagen bug from Fort Bragg, NC to the Mexican border and on down through Central America to the Panama Canal Zone. Along the way I sank my car into a river I was trying to ford and spent the day recovering it and drying everything out. Naked and blindfolded, with my hands and feet securely tied, I’ve been thrown headfirst into a pit full of mud and water, where an interrogator worked me over for what seemed hours. My later escape and mad dash through the jungle sparked exhilaration and fear that I remember as vividly as if it were yesterday. From my hammock in a Central American rain forest, I’ve listened to howler monkeys hooting at their territorial rivals, and marveled at a toucan, sailing out of the morning mist with his big red and yellow beak, gliding across a jungle clearing. I’ve dived through a waterfall at the head of Titrou Gorge on the island of Dominica in the Caribbean, and stood on a narrow ledge in that same gorge, beneath a cascade of hot water bubbling up from a subterranean spring.

From a grassy field in England, I’ve watched the sun set behind Stonehenge. I’ve watched the moon rise over the ocean as I bedded down for the night on a beach by the Aegean Sea, a few miles east of the temple to Poseidon in southern Greece. I’ve climbed the hills above the village of Kalembaka in north-central Greece and wandered amongst the ruins of monasteries perched atop seemingly inaccessible spires, once reached only by means of a basket the monks lowered down by hand.

I’ve been several hundred kilometers off the end of the last road, deep into the R’ub Al Khali, the Empty Quarter in the southeast corner of Saudi Arabia, across range after range of dunes that extend out beyond the horizon, and sat around the fire with friends, watching the occasional meteor trace a line across a sky filled with stars that seemed close enough to reach out and touch. . I’ve crawled into a crack in the side of a cliff in the Saudi Arabian desert, and seen graffiti that was carved into the rock by some unknown tribe that lived there in the time before it was a desert, more than 5,000 years ago. I’ve been to Petra, the “rose-red city half as old as time.” I’ve driven down the Hejaz Railway, stood on the wreck of a Turkish train still lying on its side where it fell after Lawrence of Arabia attacked it in WWI, and camped for the night in an abandoned stone fort the Turks built to guard the railway.

I learned to speak two foreign languages with reasonable fluency and picked up a smattering of several others. I’ve written poetry in English. I’ve white-water rafted down a river in western North Carolina, and another in Colorado. I’ve ridden a horse, trailing a string of pack mules, into the Bridger-Teton wilderness area in Wyoming, and while I was up there, I watched a grizzly bear watching me, and wondered how hungry he was.

On a black night with no moon, I’ve stood in the open door of a C-130 at 1250 feet while loaded down with a rucksack, a weapon, and a parachute, felt the great thundering roar of four turboprop engines reaching into my bones, and stepped off into the darkness. My body twisting and turning as I fell away from the bird, and feeling the sharp tug of the harness as the canopy deployed and opened above me, kindled all the rush and excitement any one person needs for a lifetime. Then swinging in the harness, the sound of the bird quickly receding in the distance, I floated down to the earth in silence, landed in the darkness, rolled into the fall, and momentarily lay there, getting my breath back.

I’ve been at that point in life when I could bare my heart and soul to someone, when I felt the connection so many spend a lifetime searching for and never find, when I just knew that my heart belonged with this one, and I made that leap into an uncertain future, trusting that it would be all I hoped it would be. It didn’t always work out. I’ve had several girlfriends and been married twice. I’ve loved deeply and been rejected. But I’ve also loved deeply and been loved in return.

I was there with my wife as she gave birth to one of my children (something I recommend to all fathers), and saw her even before her mother did. I’ve told stories to my children before tucking them in at night. I’ve seen a little girl’s face full of sunshine and a little girl’s eyes full of laughter, felt a little girl’s arms around my neck, and heard those words that will melt any man’s heart, when a little girl says, “I love you, Daddy.” I’ve held my baby grandson in my arms and watched him sleep. How could life possibly be any better than that?

These experiences, while very special to me, are not that unique. There are many who have traveled further, risked more, and reaped greater rewards. Just know that when you have explored the breadth, plumbed the depths, scaled the heights, soared with eagles, felt the terror, tasted the honey, and enjoyed all in life that is wild and mysterious, joyous and fearful, foreign and new, and even the old and familiar, you will have plucked music from your heart strings and opened the door into a world that cannot be adequately described or explained to one who has not been there. The years go by, and your past becomes a treasure house of memories, to be recalled in moments of quiet reverie. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the author of The Little Prince, said “If I summon up those memories that have left with me an enduring savor, if I draw up the balance sheet of the hours of my life that have truly counted, surely I find only those that no wealth could have procured me.” Now maybe I'm just an incurable romantic, but it’s been quite a ride . . . and no, not for anything on this green Earth, would I trade my “old age” . . . for your youth.

Utah Bob · 02-17-2013, 19:07

Okay I'll chime in. Here's one I wrote a while ago.

Aging

Getting old’s a funny thing, as fast as canyon wind
that comes up when you didn’t think it would.
It seems your life is moving well with all things in their place.
Your main thought every day is, "Life is good".

Then suddenly you realize you’re wiser than you were.
You really don’t know how that came to pass.
Apparently those miles and years that you’ve been racking up
have somehow made a mark that’s going to last.

You think about the things you’ve seen and all the things you’ve done.
You think about the times when you’ve succeeded.
Don’t try to count your failures and don’t think of them with pain.
Sometimes they were exactly what you needed.

You think about the relatives and friends who left too soon.
You mourn them at the tolling of the bell.
But smile as you remember how much happiness they gave.
And you pray you too will be remembered well.

Life’s just a book you write each passing minute, hour, and day
Although sometimes it seems you’re not the writer.
Decisions that you make will echo through the years.
Some times you’ll be the victim, some the fighter.

You have regrets, sometimes so strong they feel like weights of stone
And other times it seems that you can fly.
How did you squeeze all those good years into this one short life?
It’s enough to make you laugh until you cry.

So share the joy of all you’ve learned and all that fills your heart.
Try not to keep it bottled up inside.
And give your best advice to all those youngsters starting out.
Hang on tight boy, it’s gonna to be a ride!

Lan · 02-17-2013, 19:11

BMT and jkirkthomas- Thank you.

Edit: Thank you Utah Bob.

Requiem · 02-17-2013, 19:14

Quote:

Originally Posted by jkirkthomas

On Being “Old” .... not for anything on this green Earth, would I trade my “old age” . . . for your youth.

Beautifully said. I have a big 'ol lump in my throat.

Susan

Dusty · 02-17-2013, 20:16

I'll hang it up and admit I'm a codger when the first youngblood outshoots me.

jkirkthomas · 02-18-2013, 08:37

I lived in Fayetteville for 16 years after retirement before moving to the mountains, and when a C-130 flew over the house (which was all the time), I'd look up there and picture in my mind's eye what was going on in the cargo bay, remembering what it was like and wishing I could do it again. Several years ago, with that in mind (and a paragraph from my essay "On Being Old"), I wrote the following, which I think we can all relate to.

The Jump

In my youth, I was a paratrooper,
Where on a regular basis, I would climb
Into a big iron bird and fly away,
And to some random rigger, trust my life.

The rigger would have packed a parachute
Into a pack I strapped upon my back;
There on the hardstand is the waiting bird,
To fly me through a cold and moonless night.

Behind the bird and waddling to the ramp,
The blast of heat and smell of jet exhaust
Assails my senses, makes it hard to breathe;
This cramped and awkward walking is the worst.

The great pulsating thunder of the engines
Reaches deep and goes into my bones;
The deafening, roaring whine of all the turbines
Numbs the mind and petrifies my soul.

Now accelerating down the runway,
Rotate, lift off, and climb to altitude;
I'm strapped and buckled, rucksack on my knees,
In claustrophobic flight, an hour or two.

But now imagination takes control,
With engines roaring and the blast of wind,
While all Hell's devils scream in through the door,
To take their payment for my many sins.

I grip the door frame, leaning far outside,
Check three-sixty, see that all is safe;
The tearing wind there folds my eyelids back,
As if to peel the skin from off my face.

I put the men out, step up to the door,
Look out into the wind and cold and dark,
Clear to the rear, then turn to so report,
And try to slow the pounding of my heart.

Pulse rate one sixty, leap into the night,
And feel the blast of wind from off the props;
My body turning, twisting as I fall,
I feel the sharp tug as my chute deploys.

Now I'm swinging easy in the harness,
The thundering bird receding in the black,
Then silence as I gently float to earth,
And land, to roll and get my breathing back.

At my age now, I'll never jump again,
I'll never know that old exhilaration,
Stand in the door and feel the blast of wind,
The racing heart of fear's anticipation.

But O . . . from time to time there is a twinge,
I feel the passion rising in my veins,
To grab a chute and climb aboard the bird,
To bet my soul . . . and do it all again.

Richard · 02-18-2013, 09:03

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

- Rudyard Kipling

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost

And so it goes...

Richard

MR2 · 02-18-2013, 09:15

Bravo gentleman, bravo.

Trapper John · 02-18-2013, 09:26

Richard- I keep "IF" on the wall to the bathroom so I read it every morning. When I am gone, I will have given it to my Son. I have just read a couple of other pieces of prose that brought a tear to my eye. My Son shall have these too so he knows the men I call Brother. Thank you.