The Year You Were Never Bored

I'd like to suggest, dear reader, that there was a period in your life, of at least six months and maybe even a year when you were never bored.  You may have been frustrated because you couldn't get the people around you to understand that you were hungry, or tired, or not tired, or that you were carrying a very unpleasant load in your britches, but you were not bored.  Every thing around you was incredibly interesting: hair, a button on your clothes, the invisible force field between the warm inside of the house and the cold outside that you could touch but could not see, the thing the big people gave you to play in your food with, the thing they put the food into, the grass and all the other stuff to be found on the floor and ground.  It was your year of being a scientist.  Your first birthday was in there sometime.  It was all so very interesting.  And every once in a while you found something unforgettable - like ice cream. Whatever bad thing might have happened from time to time, you were never bored.

An Amazing Gift

My son-in-law has just returned from six months in Afghanistan working for the US Defense Department. He didn’t like it. Although he was not involved in any combat situation, the living conditions were minimal, he worked long hours, he worked every day and he was away from his family, friends and the comforts of life in this country. As a civilian he did not have to accept the assignment. He had the legal right to simply quit his job and stay home. Given that the unemployment rate is quite high these days and finding a good job is not easy I suppose that there were real economic incentives to deploy, but I believe that he accepted the task in good measure out of a sense of duty. When he accepted the job with the Defense Department several years ago the contract stipulated the possibility of being sent to Afghanistan. To have walked away when his number came up would have been shirking his duty to the government and his sense of obligation to provide for his family. He has not said as much to me, but I believe this to be the fact. While he was gone our daughter brought her 1 and 3 year old children here to live with my wife and me.


I have a dream that recurs about every six months. It’s not a nightmare. In fact I call it my sweet dream. In it I am again a young father – about 30 years old. My children are little tykes and we are reveling in the pleasures of life at a time when all is promise and potential. In my dream the children do not fight or misbehave. In my waking memory I know that was not always the case, but so it is in my dream.

Our son was born to us when we were 31 and 29 and our daughter came along a couple of years later. In the sixties that was sort of late to be starting a family. One of the side effects of starting a family is that you tend to meet a lot of new people who themselves are parents of young kids. You make friends and start hanging out with these folks. I remember thinking at the time that one’s children do a lot to define one’s age. Though I was in my 30’s, I felt much like a 20 something.

I think a lot about age these days. When people recount to me some incident that they witnessed or heard about on the news I usually ask how old were the people involved? I am keenly aware that most of my life is behind me. I often cogitate on how long I may live, what public works projects, what scientific advances, what political developments will I see. Who of my friends and family will I see pass? In our culture of youth fetish and devotion I am a confirmed and shameless acolyte. And here at the age of 74, my son-in-law has given me six months of living like a 30 year old. I have been living my dream.

Bless you my boy.

July 1, 2012

There was rain this morning.  The clouds hung in an undifferentiated grey blanket not far above my head.  The drops were small, just more than a mist.  They dampened the grass, the trees, my dog, me and even what little sound there was in the park, early on a Sunday morning.  It was what people around Seattle refer to as, a perfect day.