The Pecan Park Eagle

Hello, Dali!

Age is a funny thing, sometimes. It’s not so funny on those mornings when it’s hard to get out of bed, and lately, those seem to be increasing for me, but it’s down right hilarious just about all those other times that your physical health and loss of physical agility doesn’t get in the way.

I got to thinking about it yesterday as I was leaving my own comment on this site to Bill Gilbert’s wonderful memoir of the Astrodome and I recalled for the first time in a long while that I once kicked a 35-yard simulated field goal (dead-on Lou Groza style) in the Astrodome at halftime after midnight of the 1980 UH-AM football game in the Dome. (The whole story is still there under the Gilbert column. I’m not repeating it here.) My thought here is simply that I couldn’t anymore do that now (even attempt a field goal) than I could make any of those sliding shoestring catches I used to make in the sandlot and parochial or city league games we used to play back in the early 1950s. Today those feats are little more than pleasant memories, and probably magnified in my own mind, far more than they are remembered by anyone else, if at all, but that’s OK.

When I leave here, this earth, my journey will not be burdened by the need to feel that I’ve done anything especially grand, just that I have appreciated my time here and the opportunity to learn what I could from my experiences and to have given back whatever it is I have to give. Beyond that, I know who loves me and whom I love, and that God is Love. And that’s it. And that’s enough.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think I’m dying right now. Beyond the fact that I am going through some health issues these days that easily remind me of the fact that nobody lives forever, I could live another twenty years – and I hope I am so blessed. Even if I do, I’ll never take additional age in years for granted beyond the fact that “my eyes opened again this morning to a new sunrise.” Even that one is no guarantee for any of us that we shall see the twilight of the same day. The time of our lives is always the only time that truly exists. That’s right now. In the here and now.

May we all be blessed with the full experience of whatever our time on this planet ride is all about. It’s available to us in this moment through so many instructive memories, sweet and sharp: our first base hit, all day on the sandlot during the eternal summers of childhood, the sight of that face and smile of our first love, that first kiss, the joy of knowing we’ve been together since 1954, or the sorrow that we missed the boat with each other, but hopefully, now resolved as healed pain by the recognition that life had another plan for our lives, and that whatever we took on in a full embrace of reality and creativity was our true big league career – and true love.

As an old car guy, the classic looks of those real chrome and steel models from the late 1940s and early 1950s are my anchor points to an era which bred us James Dean wannabes with the idea that we could get there faster, classier, and stronger than any obstacle that got in our way, even if our goals were sometimes devoid of clear purpose, we raced on anyway – either without cause – or in tight compliance to society’s expectations. Those of us from the former group were quick to advise the goose-steppers of the latter group: “Don’t start a rumble, if you can’t take the tumble!” We thought we were so smart. Boy, did we have a lot to learn.

Anyway, here are some quick looks at four great dream cars from my own coming of age era. They are as good a way to go out on topic today as any. Have a great President’s Day, February 18, 2013, everybody! Make it whatever it is. And do not waste it because it’s never coming back for a re-run.

1949 Mercury

1950 Ford

1951 Studebaker

1957 Chevrolet

Tags: aging perspectives

This entry was posted on February 18, 2013 at 2:39 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.