An Epiphany

Ever have one of them? An epiphany? A friend of mine likes to call them "The Epiphany" but somehow that indicates there is only one — and, for me, of late, there's been more than one.

When I was dating my wife, we'd go to her brother's house for family gatherings, picnics, and swim in the pond with the nieces and nephews. Up by the house, a table sat at the edge of the large deck under the shade of a large oak tree. As I lazed in the sun on the small sandy beach area, I'd see them, the aunts and uncles, the old people, sitting at that table enjoying their coffees or lemonades.

The years have passed. My brother-in-law and his wife have moved into a small trailer set a little closer to the pond. His eldest son has taken over handling the "estate" of six acres. We had a party the other day. All the family showed. The grandkids and great-grandkids frolicked in the pond, running helter-skelter here and there. I sat at the table at the edge of the large deck under the shade of the huge oak tree. I was enjoying my cup of coffee, talking with the other siblings of my wife's family, watching the kids. I was once more reminded of how the old people (the aunts, uncles, moms and dads) would sit at the table and...

OMG!

I was the 'old people' at the table.

Sure, Uncle Earl passed. Aunt Mary went to her Heavenly reward. Even mom and dad had taken their turn visiting the Pearly Gates.

But, wait, when had the baton been passed. When did I — that's right, the three of us — me, myself, and I — when did we become one of those to sit at the esteemed table of elders?

I longed for the sunny beach; to allow myself to throw caution to the wind, no reservations, allow the sun to crisp my body to a golden brown.

I held my hand over my eyebrow to shade my view and see the kids out in the water.

NO! I'd seen my wife's dad, and her Uncle Earl do that. Not me! It couldn't be me!!

I sipped my coffee, resigned to the fact — I was old. I'd moved on. No longer was I the stud lounging on the beach. My heydays were over.

Never!!

I stood, my bones creaking and cracking in the action. I was going to take my rightful place back in the sun. As I was about to leap off the low deck onto the lawn, I thought better of it, turned and carefully, one step at a time, made my way down the staircase and to the path to the pond.

About four steps later I realized the truth. I hurt. The idea of getting down, laying on the beach, allowing the glorious sun to bathe my body...

I cringed. Thoughts assailed me.

     1. That's a lot of white flesh to expose, not only to the sun, but to the world.
     2. They don't have a crane handy — how are you getting back up?
     3. Your six pack is more like overstuffed carry-on luggage.
     4. Do you really want to hear the kids, grandkids and others laughing?
     5. Or worse, crying for you to put on more clothes?

With the sincerest look I could offer, I turned to the others on the porch deck and said...

"Damn! I forgot what I was going to do!"

And humbly walked back up to sit at the table.

There is honor in growing old. It is a rite of passage. You are an elder to be respected.

Yeah, right! That's a lot of hogwash.

As Judge Thurgood Marshall stated when asked why he was retiring...

Because I'm old!

Yes, I'm old but I do believe I'd remember when the baton was passed to me. Obviously, as I have now learned, it is done without any pomp or circumstance. No ceremony. It is a simple case, one day you don't have the baton, the next day you have it. I also discovered, it does not, I repeat, does NOT come with instructions.

In fact, a little head's up — very little of growing up comes with instructions. Sure, you get guidance when you're young, but when you hit a certain age, all those who are older than you, well, they have moved on, and suddenly, you are now the font of all things important, somewhat relevant, and unfortunately, more often than not, totally useless information of a period gone by.

A few years ago, the matriarch of my wife's family passed. Yes, my mother-in-law, at the ripe age of 103 (one hundred and three) went to her Heavenly home. My parents had already passed. At that moment, although I hadn't realized it at the time, my wife and I became the matriarch and patriarch of our family, as did my wife's sisters and brother with their families.  The baton had been passed. There was none for us to go to for advice. We now were the Oracles, the deities of information, good or bad.

Epiphany.

When did I get to this point? How did I get here?

The answer is simple. I got here one breath at a time... and there were a lot of them.

As king, my first proclamation...

HELP!!

Until next I ramble on...

Pomp and Circumstance

It's that time of year again - when everyone somewhere is having a graduation party.

This year my wife's school honored those who graduated not only 50 years ago, but also those who graduated 75 years ago.  My wife was in the 50 year bracket... I'm not THAT old. LOL.

It was interesting to see the difference between graduation when I graduated back in 1965, my wife in 1967 and those who graduated today.  In fact, I was noticing a lot of differences regarding the many facets of the graduation.

Hats. Boards. Whatever you want to call them - those funny square things on your head with the tassel dangling to one side.  Back in the "olde" days, they were sacred, held with reverence, etc and yada, yada.  Today, they are marked up with phrases, pictures, bedazzled and anything else you can think of.  Today I saw phrases written in stark contrast pen, several collages of pictures, a few bejeweled and bedazzled with stones and glitter, a couple with flowers and one even had a couple of butterflies on it. To say "interesting" would be mild.

When I graduated, I briskly walked across the stage, shook hands while my other hand held the diploma, a quick smile to my parents who had their cameras ready and as I walked off the stage, I moved the tassel to the opposite side to denote my graduation.  Today?  No pictures allowed ... or should I say, no flashes allowed.  There was a professional photographer taking a picture of each student graduating, a posed picture. Once everyone had their diploma and everyone was back at their seat, one student came forward, faced the graduation group and in unison, they moved the tassel to the other side with a small amount of hooting and fanfare.

Processional. There was some decorum in the introduction of the graduating class as they marched into the auditorium and up onto the stage.  Of course, the high school (.less seniors) performed the rite of passage - Pomp and Circumstance.  Eh.  No critique.  The band also played the music for the now graduated seniors as the left the auditorium.  Oh, wait.  This was new.  The students, rather than walking straight down the aisle, walked across in front of the stage, criss-crossing with the opposite side and each of them met in the middle - they did a little "something" to make it unique.  Some did a double-slap high-5, others did a hug, some did a butt-bump, some shook hands. Each couple attempted to be different than the couple before them.  Definitely not like the stiff and staunch march I had to perform at my graduation.  I think I liked it.

Graduation parties.  Wow.  My party was very low key.  I had about 10 people there, only 4 of which were graduating student friends.  I mean, almost everyone else was having family graduation parties, so I was thrilled to have a couple of friends to join my family party. We had NO family near us when I was growing up - no aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no grandparents.  My mom was from NYC, my dad was from Iowa.  I was raised in Ohio.  I had friends.

Saturday, coming through Toledo, I saw people getting ready for all the different parties.  What I found truly interesting, I noticed one guy out hammering stakes in his yard to show his property lines. Here's the cool part - he was putting up "No Parking" signs and a couple of "Private Property" signs. I'm not sure, but I'm guessing there "ain't a whole lot of neighborly love" right there.  The other guy who obviously was having the party, had tents, coolers, banners, and all sorts of party regalia up blowing in the breeze - in the yard, in the trees, on the house, over the garage. We are talking PARTY!

Memories. The speeches today kept repeating over and over - this is the last time you will all be together as a group. Never again will you all be together in one spot.  In my head, I could hear so many of those graduates mentally thinking: Yeah, yeah, we'll all get together for our 5 year reunion.

No, you won't. Surprise! Today was your last day together as a group. Tomorrow, next month, next year, as terrible as this sounds, one of your old schoolmates will bite the dust. That's right, they'll die. Or, they'll be in surgery or overseas, or not get the notification or one of a thousand other reasons for them not to be there.  How do I know?  One of my classmates passed two weeks prior to our 50th reunion.  I had to skip the 40th reunion due to a quadruple bypass surgery.  One of our classmates has fallen off the face of the earth - we have NO contacts for him - no parents, no relatives, no siblings. He graduated and that is the last we saw him. I graduated during the Vietnam era but I can proudly say, we lost no classmates to the war. Those who have passed, have done so since.

So, to those graduating this year. You have a few distinctions that I would like to bring up.

1. You are the last graduating class who was born in the 1900s.
2. You are technically advanced but totally ignorant of simplistic thinking.
3. You see space and the stars as locations, we saw them as points of wonder for the imagination.
4. The nucleus family is no more.
AND
5. Like a rock star who hasn't had a hit in two months, when I pass, no one will care beyond the next day or visit my grave... this is your future.

Today was Pomp and Circumstance. Tomorrow is reality.

Until next I ramble on...