The young talk about the future because they have no appreciation of the past; the old talk about the past because they dread the future.
What do the gawky adolescent, the lonely elderly, the mid-life crisis man, the post menopausal woman, the deserted dog in the crate, all have in common? the pervasive fear that life has passed us by, that we were doing the speed limit, obeying the rules, when somehow our window of opportunity blew by us in the left lane; I’m here to inform you that your time has NOT passed you by. True, interests and abilities change, but our responsibility to do the most with what is currently in our power does not.
As we ramp up towards the holiday season, it seems that we are consistently being driven harder every year to have a certain level of fun (vee VILL be having fun, YES?!?), and if our own personal circumstances dictate that maybe we don’t have it in us to live up to such a rosy picture, we have somehow failed.
It’s like clutching a handful of sand; the harder it’s gripped, the more it seems to slip through the fingers. This year, don’t scurry after it, let the joy come to you. And if a recent loss, or just the cares of life over the last year make it seem improbable that joy will be able to locate your new address, pack up your life and take a backseat full of joy to someone who might need it more than you do.
As we age and let the chasms of religion and politics divide us, it seems that it causes our family units to shrink and crumble at a time when, more than ever, we need them to be growing and flourishing. But it is what it is, and we can stand by and curse the darkness or we can light a light.
This Christmas, all of the members of the Charlie Bravo family are invited to the Casa del Whackos. I have just informed dad that we are going to do a live broadcast from the Casa, totally impromptu, non scripted, as interactive as possible.
That slapping sound you just heard? That was the sound of dad’s butt cheeks clamping shut, as he has no idea how to set this up, or how to make it interactive, or what in the world will we talk about, or how long it will go, what if no one tunes in, or even why do it at all? Well, I say,
Stand by for details at a later date, as dad is of little help right now. I guess I should have given him a bit of advance notice, as he is currently curled up in the fetal position, hyperventilating, with his thumb in his mouth. Cheer up, dad; it’s just another crate you need to come out of!