It is strange knowing that your vision is not what it was, not what you want it to be, not necessarily yours in the long run, one eye already semi-useless for reading and distance.
You adapt, get bigger monitors, a tablet to read the news, a magnifier when you need to hold newsprint in hand, a large screen television (okay, you wanted that regrdless of your vision).
You realize so many songs you once sung (badly) will no longer make sense, goodbye “I Can See for Miles,” and no more Johnny Nash, “I’m looking through you,” nope, and “If I still haven’t found what I’m looking for” U2 will just have to find it for me.
Strange as it may seem, I was tempted to consider Catholicism, not the Roman kind but that of the breakawy churches who accept all, gay or straight, married or divorced, the whole lot of mankind just because.
They do believe in heaven which is a good alternative to the Bardo, and having choices is a good thing even in death.
I was truly tempted to give it my all when I realized that it was problematic, for it had led me into temptation and that is something you pray doesn’t happen, and if I want a conundrum Buddhism offers me plenty.
When I saw you this morning I knew instantly that I hadn’t seen you in more than twenty years, although it is quite possible we have never met and today was the first time my eyes ever gazed at your face .
I suppose it is lucky that you did not recognize me although I don’t think I’ve changed all that much in twenty years.
I was going to call out your name, but decided against it in case you have changed it or, possibly because you wouldn’t answer to the name I choose to give you.
It was good seeing you today, let’s do again in a decade or so.
The most disturbing thing about lemmings is not that they follow one after another over a cliff or into traffic, it is not the carnage that inevitably ensues, one after another doomed by the need to follow blindly.
The disturbing thing is not the knowledge that lemmings only follow, so someone directed the first in line into a suicidal act.
The most disturbing thing is that lemmings do not commit mass suicide, it is only in our tortured use of cliches that they meet their death.
They were not optional in our family, once a week, half an hour, that and at least 20 minutes daily, the youngest got the choice of times.
He quit after a year, his sister was three years in and went on another and I was eight years staring at the 88 keys, so many of which would never get used, useless as were the pedals I couldn’t reach at first and rarely needed later.
It was upright, as I was supposed to be, but only was in sight of my teacher, and I thought Bill Evans had it right, leaning over the keys insuring that they wouldn’t make an escape.
I stopped when my parents realized how much they had spent on what they would never enjoy and I would as soon forget.
It is the difference I always notice between small and large cities: the parks.
When you sit deeply within Boston Commons or Central Park you can feel the city always threatening to encroach and once again make you its prisoner, smell and hear the city, traffic and trucks rumbling, horns played in a cacophonous symphony.
In small cities you can sit in a park and wonder where downtown could be, distant, a whisper perhaps alwlays unseen, and you can get lost in dreams of childhood smell newly mown grass, and listen unimpeded to the stories the trees are all to willing to tell.
Life should be a like a mountain although truth be told, we prefer it more like a prairie or at best a gentle, rolling hill.
There is a challenge to climbing, hell maintaining a grip halfway up most mountains, and there are no maps, no well worn paths, you just go up until you cannot go up higher then you figure out how to come down.
Down is the hard part, and you don’t want it to go quickly for that is a prescription for the undertaker, and when you do finally get down, you want to say I did it all, there is nothig left that I still need to do.