Well, so much for keeping up with daily blogs. I had an unscheduled blog I had to craft for a client and took longer than I thought. I now find myself in Lansing and took time reading. I know, weird. You’d think I’d be reading all of the time, but I’m very careful when I’m writing, because I find myself going deep into journals and books and don’t wish to copy style or subjects; however, since I will be sending letters and editing manuscripts, I think I’m safe. There is one subject that I seem to be very good at keeping up with and that’s the past. Why is it no matter how great things are in your life, no matter how involved you become, the past rushes through at moments as if the train track has no block? In my attempts to live life before 50, I did a lot of living, which is what you do when you don’t think you’ll live past 60. And that was my theory. No male member of my father’s family in 4 generations, made it. I suppose you can say my father lived till he was 63, but he lost a lung at 48, had quadruple bypass at 54, and his emphysema had him oxygen tethered for the last 4 years of his life. It wasn’t much of a life. So, growing up and watching that unfold on my paternal side, I also watched my maternal relatives, the poor immigrant side, struggle with making a living. My grandfather made it to the promised land of the middle class, but died in an expletive of things he never did for fear of money. Yes, a fear of money. Either not having enough or would never have enough. He had enough. He chose to be cautious. I had an uncle who did the same thing. Put money away everywhere including hidden accounts, dresser drawers, and garage hideaway’s while his family scrapped pennies and never got necessary medical or dental attention. After his death, the kids got mad. The money isn’t hidden anymore. Why this history? Because last night we went out with some of Christine’s CEO colleagues and had a wonderful time – except for that keeping up thing kept getting in the way. They all discussed issues that I made a career out of for 42 years, and the past blazed through every nook and cranny of my brain until I was exhausted. Needless to say, I had to shut my pedantic mouth at times, but everything, and I mean everything they discussed, I had been a part of. Buildings, career paths, laws, regulations, streets, people, legislatures, Congressman, Presidents, blah, blah, blah. In all of the past writings of being quiet, sometimes it’s hard, but at least there’s insight, which is my last point. The wrestling match the last couple of months is being satisfied with where I am. I am not a person of choice anymore. Not a person in the daily papers, on the radio, or on the tip of everyone’s tongue. I’m not. But why does it seem that I want everyone to know what I used to be? The ego is a powerful devil if loosened, and knowing what I know now about my family of origin and why I act and react the way I do, makes me pause after nights like last night and work toward quiet once more. But, I will be keeping up with these blogs if for no other reason than the therapy they provide. I wish to keep all of my body parts intact until I die at a ripe old age, and stress breakers of alcohol, cigarettes, and bad food, while easier than actually combating stress, don’t work. Talking with you does. Thanks.
Keeping up
March 21, 2018
stewert james
The Author
An author with a story. Living in a quiet Northern Michigan community, nestled into a serene Lake Michigan bay, James writes to the rhythms of current events mixed with romanticism and experience that can only be found by living the same adventures. Whether it’s a provocative story line or blog, this website will certainly take you beyond the keyboard.
Hey, you keep writing and we’ll keep reading. That therapy thing can work both ways.