THE IMPORTANCE OF "LOOKING AHEAD."

When you reach into your 80s there is often a kind of physical and emotional curtain drawn over your life. Perhaps the most important words of advice (however gratuitous they may seem to be) to others reaching deeply into “golden” years: you want to wake up one morning feeling fit, spry and thirty-five years old again. Forget it!

I am prompted to write this piece because of this from “Mark’s Musings”: "You cannot bring value to your partnership in life if you are not, first, and always, be whole, vital and alive yourself. Be strong. Be true, to yourself. Be those things for yourself, but also for your partner.”

Shirley and I are both in chronic discomfort verging on real pain. A couple of nights ago, lying in bed together, indulging in our usual reflective pillow talk and review of the day’s events I said: “You know, we are both at an age when there will be more physical things go wrong. There will be more pain and less vigour. But we can’t put our lives “on hold” waiting for the doctor to prescribe something that will make it all go away. If we don’t get on with our lives, we’ll simply moulder away quietly groaning about our aches and pains.” (I find myself thinking about Stockholm next summer.)

I know, it sounds like a kind of obvious homily. Nothing is more evident in the state of aging that the overt symptoms of it. Our lives are temporarily on hold. She is waiting for a minor heart procedure which she must have before they will replace her totally worn-out hip. I am waiting to hear, if I ever do, about a persistent lower body pain that I’ve been dealing with for the better part of a year. Enough! I am not a fan of exchanging maladies, aches, pains and operations, one of the staples of conversation among people of a certain age group. There is still too much to do.

Do we sit quietly and wait for the pains to be remedied? Certainly not. It is far too easy to wallow. It is a characteristic of aging – for some people. We are planning ahead. Once they get a handle on my pain (and if they don’t I’ll have to carry on anyway) and Shirley gets a date for her hip replacement, we can plan to take a trip to Austin. We don’t go there only to be comforted by our grandchildren, who have their own lives to contend with, we go to experience the milder weather, the great barbecue, the superb galleries and the music. There is more music in Austin, Texas than any other place in America. Jazz, country, classical – you get it all. And in between there can be a visit to a wonderful art glass maker.

Meanwhile. I keep writing. At the urging of my French friend Henri, I sent off a sample of “Letters from Paris” to Le Monde to see if they would like to publish. No word yet. I’ll send them next to “Le Figaro,” and if not there – we’ll see.

I continue to believe that I can be a better pianist. My teacher agrees. He actually has me doing a series of exercises (for the music students who understand I mean Biehl and Hanon) to improve my “chops.” I have no illusions that I can become a virtuoso. But just getting all the exquisite chords for Victor Young’s “Stella by Starlight” is a bounty.

Thanks to Mark Kolke for reminding me. Thanks to whoever cheers us on and wishes us well – because there are still many tomorrows.