The chapters of our lives in Daydreaming on the Porch

Life is full of chapters that we pass through quickly, but near the end, our progression speeds up dramatically as we realize there’s not that much time left to do all we want.

Each chapter contains within it stories and incidents in our lives, and the chapters usually have neat and clear-cut beginnings, but sometimes very abrupt or unfortunate endings. More likely than, not, they merge into each other inconspicuously.

My chapters generally span decades from beginning to end.

• 1951-1960: childhood;

• 1960-1970: adolescence to the beginning of college and young adulthood;

• 1970-1980: wholeheartedly and enthusiastically entering and establishing my career path in newspaper journalism and seeing it come crashing down near the end of the decade — the end of what I call my “Age of Idealism”;

• 1980-1990: rebirth and renewal, a new career in teaching, the end of that brief but most extraordinary chapter where everything seemed to be coming together on my vocational and spiritual journey, but which led to a years-long period that can be described accurately as wandering in a personal wilderness, literally and figuratively, as I careened from one short endeavor such as graduate school to unemployment and struggles to keep my sanity;

• 1990-2000: the ending of my rather desperate wandering after a long struggle with depression, and settling into my final job and career;

• 2010-2020: I enter the decades-long chapter of finally finding and settling into a career of 22 years, retirement, caregiving for my mother who had dementia and diabetes for ten of those years, ending with her passing in 2020 and the arrival of the pandemic in March;

• and finally, the decade 2020 to the present day, which so far has resulted in selling and moving from the family home where Mom lived for 25 years, and which I also considered my home. If everything goes well, this present chapter early in the decade will conclude and my life will continue on at my new apartment where I have greatly downsized my living space and cozily settled in for the duration, free of the constant headaches of home maintenance and exorbitant insurance premiums, and sky-high property taxes. The shackles will be removed.

So today, as so often happens on these quiet afternoons in retirement, I think about my life and all I’ve done and the memorable people I’ve known over the decades, mostly former co-workers, but also friends I would never have known if not for the many jobs I’ve held over the years.

I’ll be honest with you, after spending most of the past ten years in ceaseless motion, caregiving 24/7 and working full-time, I am in no hurry to rejoin the incessant activity and constant motion of the majority of people out there — both retired and working. I am content with my grocery shopping, walks in parks and gardens and sitting by the waterfront and harbor watching people and huge container ships come and go, taking pictures every day and sharing the beauty of the natural world with others.

This, in addition to my frequent writing, gives me great pleasure and a sense of accomplishment. I don’t feel a need to rush out and volunteer here and there. That’s fine for many my age who have to have all the hours of their days filled up, but not me. I’m at the stage in life where I mostly want to keep learning and discovering and growing mentally and spiritually, for however long I have left. Life can be simple, or it can be needlessly complex and frustrating. I choose to try to simplify my needs and wants. It may take the remainder of this decade-long and perhaps final, chapter as I move through my seventies, but I will try.

Last updated April 11, 2022