WHY AM I DOING THIS..?

I found myself asking why am I writing all this? Well, I am 76 years Old and missing a lung, a gall bladder, tonsils and the cartilage in both knees. I have glasses which I need and hearing aids in both ears and I take about 6 different pills a day to keep everything going. They tell me I should be on oxygen but I put my foot down (gently, of course) there. The tank is sitting on the porch, to please my doctor and my wife, but I don’t use it during the day. However, I do when I sleep at night. I won’t deny that it helps me to prepare for the day. It does. I will know when it is time to make it a full time situation. And I know it is sneaking up on me.

I go through a lot of days shopping, to Art Galleries and art shows, visiting with other artists, dining out and cooking along with other duties around the house. Just normal activities that don’t require too much physical exertion. I get along fine as I have for the almost 16 years since I lost my lung. At this point I must say that my wife does most of the heavy chores around the house. She actually keeps everything going. It is not easy for her, either but we make a pretty good team.



Now, here’s the thing. When I am sitting at the computer or in a chair anywhere and am in my thoughts, I am not 76. I am probably anywhere from 26 to 56. Maybe even 16. I am watching myself walking through Europe or sitting at an outside Café in Naples, Italy or perhaps swimming and sunbathing on the Riviera in Italy or France or fly fishing and camping here in Colorado. And I am doing it effortlessly. I have done all those things effortlessly but I enjoy doing them over and over in my mind.

I know all this writing about myself seems egoistic on my part. However, I think it is somewhat cathartic for me, as one memory ignites another and I am remembering times and instances that I haven’t thought about for years or maybe ever but has been nudged or unearthed by another memory. I realized that I don’t want to lose those memories so I am writing them down. It is that simple. It also comes down to the fact that after my wife and I, there is no one to remember any of this and it is important to me to have been at least a notation. we have no children and I have no relatives living (that are interested, anyway) and I don’t want total anonymity when I breathe my last.

I of course, don’t know how much time I have. I am even truly surprised that I have had this much time. All I have to leave is my story and my paintings and perhaps someone’s memory of me as an acquaintance somewhere along the way. That is not much and I know it. Perhaps that is all any of us have, in the end. Keep in mind that even one small event that is hardly worth noting, to someone else, is part of what I am and who I am at this time. Taking the good along with the bad as that is the way it works. I won’t tell all the bad. Just some.