In May 2023 I had an emotional breakdown. I'd never had one before, but the stress I had been under for several years - among other things, my beloved mother's decline during the lockdown when I was not allowed to see her until the very end of her life - overwhelmed me and I was in an alternate reality for two weeks, hospitalized in Mission Park. During those two weeks I spent a lot of time conversing with dead people. They were all through with stress and I felt relaxed among them. My late friend Philip Schaeffer, who'd given up his Mad Men ways of smoking and drinking and lived into his nineties, was now enjoying a Martini and a cigarette. My friend Steve who died in 2000 told me he now had the time to finish every volume of Proust. My brother, who died of early onset Parkinson's at 60 was able to build all the intricate devices that disease had robbed him of in life. But when I relayed these tales to the nursing staff they did not share my pleasure. You only see dead people when you yourself are about to die. And then one moonlit night my mother appeared before me. I put my arms out to embrace her but she backed off, refusing. ‘Go home,” she sternly ordered. “You don't belong here.” And then she went poof! Vanished, as did that whole world and I woke up to my husband. “I'm back,” I said. And I've stayed in this world since, even survived deadly Septic Shock in January. But I know the people we've loved and who've loved us are among us. And I still talk to them even though I can't see them anymore. There's a Buddhist saying “When you look for the dead you will not find them. When you stop looking, they are always there.” Peace and long life, Henry.
Ah me. Wait a bit. Time will roll along. Wait when you live alone day to day (in a lovely house) and only one...just one...person in the world gives a damn about you. And you are grateful. Memories are fine...but no one will notice. Except that one.
It seems like only a few months ago Henry, when you had called and had me meet you in the office at the Ranch. It was about founding a locally based surf themed publication. I had brought a few vis files of slides for us to look at.
You told me that you had been out at UCSB studying to become a Webmaster. I clearly recall my response: "What is that?"
Been an honor and pleasure getting to know you as we travel across and through the arc of time. Here is something for you: https://vimeo.com/792042412?share=copy
It does seem that way. August just started and it's almost a week over. How the heck do we harness time and slow it down or milk it for all we can. Thanks for always reaching out David. Hope you're still taking awesome photos. You were fantastic.
In 1978 I worked out at a tiny sweat box old school gym by the name of Whitey and Terry’s in Cape Canaveral Florida . Terry, soon to be known as the Hulk was a co-owner and worked there. Just free weights. No air conditioning, just a big fan, a radio in the corner and zero gals Farting discouraged but occasionally funny. Terry complained to me a few times that he couldn’t get his muscles any bigger - I never had that dilemma.
One day he wanted to max out on the 225 bench, and I was the only guy around to spot him. I was up to a dozen reps then, not too shabby for a thin guy. He was pumping reps out like a giant human cylinder, out to exceed his personal best of 39 if memory serves. He got past 35 and was slowing down, so I bent over him, with fingers under the bar in case he needed a spot. I yelled encouragement. Suddenly a huge drop of sweat dropped from my nose directly into one of hid eyes. Terry yelled, losing his mojo, and I had to grab the bar. I stood there cowering as he shook his head snd wiped his eyes. Was he going to clobber me? Suddenly he laughed and said, “Griz I hope you’ve had your shots, because now we’re sweat bros!”
Interesting commentary on the time and memories of one's life.
I was born in England in 1933. My first, lasting memory, from about the age of 5 years, was that I was chronic Asthmatic, constantly fighting for oxygen in the most air-polluted area of central London, where our only form of heating was a large coal fire, sitting with my parents, who both smoked cigarettes.
My second memory was sitting with my mother and father, listening to our battery-powered radio, when the Prime Minster announced that Britain was at war with Germany. We had no electricity, no bathroom and the flush toilet was outside in the back yard.
Then there were the air-raids, sleeping in tube stations, the evacuations of children from London and their parents, the rationing, the G.I.'s in thousands. It was both an exciting and terrifying time, but it did, also build self-reliance and comradeship.
Fast forward to 1955. I met fell in love and got married to Barbara, the most wonderful and beautiful girl. She is my beloved wife today.
In 1968, I was sent, by my employer to the USA one a one-year assignment, along with my wife and two children. I fell in love again. this time with America and with our new-found American friends. After returning to the UK, I was determined to return to America with my family. By 1971, we returned to Rochester NY. where we were blessed with a third child. We are still here in the USA, now living in Santa Barbara.
92 years have gone by with increasing rapidity in my mind's eye. I have experienced so much change. And the rate of change is still accelerating, just as my life seems to be passing faster and faster
Barbara and I are very fortunate to still have pretty good physical and mental health, if we ignore the wear and tear of age. I have become very interested in AI. It is so fast and complete in its answers to often, complex questions.
Wow, Derek. Good for you. My mom is 92 and lived in Germany and shared many similar stories. You are the poster child to live life to the fullest and long. Keep up the good work.
Derek is indeed a ‘poster child’: an exemplary, informed patriot contributing full throttle on multiple levels. He has the energy of a 30 year old, smarts and depth of wisdom far beyond his nine plus decades. A highlight for me was meeting Derek in 2024! I’ve learned much from him. As a Gerontologist I observe too few pursue life long learning, active participation, networking and leading in their later years using chronological age as an excuse. Not so for others! At 107, local Eastsider civic leader Anita Mackey gave a speech on finance. At 111, she was still engaged in current events prior to her death.
Too often I fail to properly communicate my appreciation for the impactful contribution of others to my life. Your article Henry — and Peter MacDougall’s recent death — reminded me of my indebtedness— that I’ve much do in the coming months and hopefully years to thank others when I reflect on past chapters of my life story.
More great observations, Henry. I often find myself thinking right along the same lines as you. Make the most of every day, enjoy the ones you love and try to make the world a better place. Here’s to hoping we make it past the longevity average. 🍻
This article struck a chord with me. I am 76, healthy, and have been retired for a few years. With more discretionary time I have been reaching the deepest recesses of my memory and becoming reacquainted with events and people long forgotten. I have found it to be calming and reassuring as the process of life is being completed.
There is a short video of Alice Cooper talking about his dear friend and neighbor Glen Campbell who died from Alzheimer's. Alice noted that in the last years of Glen's life he could barely communicate and hardly new where he was. But if you put a guitar in his hands he would play it like the Glen of old.
Thanks for the musings. Musical memories are some of the best, and where does the time go?
A verse from the Ruba'iyyat of Omar Khayyam (Graves - Shah translation):
In childhood once we crouched before our teacher,
Growing content in time with what he taught;
How does this story end? What happened to us?
We came like water, and like wind were gone.
A great verse. The first two lines seems to suggest the comfort and security of dogmatic belief--connecting to the final line, we come into life, are taught comforting lessons as, like water, our mind flows into the forms given to us, then the wind blows and we're gone. But there's also a very old Middle Eastern story, the Tale of the Sand which gives a very different take:
Beautifully written. It's interesting to note all our different takes on life and yet we all share the same feelings. I guess some of it comes with age when we leave ego and anger behind and remember when we were 20 and we had a long time. We didn't worry about the end too much then.
Great article Henry, where does all the time go…I have no idea. I’m reminded of a Dylan lyric from “Oh Sister,” “Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore.”
As a recently retired boomer, I often think about mortality, especially when seeing so many icons pass on to the next life. I often enjoy watching old shows from the 60’s on Hulu. Last night was an episode of “Combat,” when it dawned on me, the entire cast is no longer alive.
Yes like sands in a hour glass, it just keeps going on. I often feel my age when seeing my kids and others as now adults. Can’t help but wonder what did I miss?
As for my Ozzie Osborne tale, I once caught his insanity on stage in my hometown of San Antonio at the long gone Convention Center Arena which was a leftover from Hemisfair 68’.
After his lively performance, he was later caught relieving himself by taking a whiz on the Alamo and arrested for indecent exposure! For desecrating our shrine, he was banned from performing any more shows in San Antonio for life! Urinating on the Alamo ranks right up there with eating off the head of a live Bat on stage! Ya, Ozzie was a sick puppy.
Another favorite band of our era was the Byrds...and a little song called "Turn! Turn! Turn!", also known as or subtitled "To Everything There Is a Season", is a song written by Pete Seeger in 1959 and deals with these very thoughts. Taken from a Hymn, I recall my Grandma often singing "...this world is not our home...we're just a passing through..." So although you opened the door to a sermon, I'll be brief and to the point.
This system isn't what the GOD of Creation intended...we changed all that. However, because He loves us (first), He has provided a real Hope for us. We can live forever with Him if we will just believe that His only Son was born, lived, died (for our sin debt) and was resurrected. It's a free gift.
No need to fret Henry. You have expressed what ALL of us think or worry about. I pray we ALL accept HIS gift and enjoy one another for...ever. Blessings and thank you for sharing your life with us. You are well spoken and appreciated.
You are too kind and thank you. Even though not directly related, my father owned a lot of property along the coast at one time. Though he always told me, he didn't own it, he was just the caretaker while he was alive. That truth can be applied to everything in our lives because we also just live on borrowed time and we can't take all our stuff with us.
I had a chance to listen to Kenny Chesney's song, Don't Blink. Wow. Thanks for letting me know about that. Same train of thought which I'm certain many of us share.
In May 2023 I had an emotional breakdown. I'd never had one before, but the stress I had been under for several years - among other things, my beloved mother's decline during the lockdown when I was not allowed to see her until the very end of her life - overwhelmed me and I was in an alternate reality for two weeks, hospitalized in Mission Park. During those two weeks I spent a lot of time conversing with dead people. They were all through with stress and I felt relaxed among them. My late friend Philip Schaeffer, who'd given up his Mad Men ways of smoking and drinking and lived into his nineties, was now enjoying a Martini and a cigarette. My friend Steve who died in 2000 told me he now had the time to finish every volume of Proust. My brother, who died of early onset Parkinson's at 60 was able to build all the intricate devices that disease had robbed him of in life. But when I relayed these tales to the nursing staff they did not share my pleasure. You only see dead people when you yourself are about to die. And then one moonlit night my mother appeared before me. I put my arms out to embrace her but she backed off, refusing. ‘Go home,” she sternly ordered. “You don't belong here.” And then she went poof! Vanished, as did that whole world and I woke up to my husband. “I'm back,” I said. And I've stayed in this world since, even survived deadly Septic Shock in January. But I know the people we've loved and who've loved us are among us. And I still talk to them even though I can't see them anymore. There's a Buddhist saying “When you look for the dead you will not find them. When you stop looking, they are always there.” Peace and long life, Henry.
That was beautiful, Polly. Thank you so much for sharing.
Your column was beautiful. And you're not old! Because if you're old that makes me older.
Ha ha. Okay I won’t race you 😀
Polly you gave us a beautiful message! Thank you! You have had a great experience and you are so generous to share it with we current readers!!
Ah me. Wait a bit. Time will roll along. Wait when you live alone day to day (in a lovely house) and only one...just one...person in the world gives a damn about you. And you are grateful. Memories are fine...but no one will notice. Except that one.
"Never complain about growing old. It is a privilege denied to many."
I also am a septuagenarian, with many memories.
It seems like only a few months ago Henry, when you had called and had me meet you in the office at the Ranch. It was about founding a locally based surf themed publication. I had brought a few vis files of slides for us to look at.
You told me that you had been out at UCSB studying to become a Webmaster. I clearly recall my response: "What is that?"
Been an honor and pleasure getting to know you as we travel across and through the arc of time. Here is something for you: https://vimeo.com/792042412?share=copy
It does seem that way. August just started and it's almost a week over. How the heck do we harness time and slow it down or milk it for all we can. Thanks for always reaching out David. Hope you're still taking awesome photos. You were fantastic.
In 1978 I worked out at a tiny sweat box old school gym by the name of Whitey and Terry’s in Cape Canaveral Florida . Terry, soon to be known as the Hulk was a co-owner and worked there. Just free weights. No air conditioning, just a big fan, a radio in the corner and zero gals Farting discouraged but occasionally funny. Terry complained to me a few times that he couldn’t get his muscles any bigger - I never had that dilemma.
One day he wanted to max out on the 225 bench, and I was the only guy around to spot him. I was up to a dozen reps then, not too shabby for a thin guy. He was pumping reps out like a giant human cylinder, out to exceed his personal best of 39 if memory serves. He got past 35 and was slowing down, so I bent over him, with fingers under the bar in case he needed a spot. I yelled encouragement. Suddenly a huge drop of sweat dropped from my nose directly into one of hid eyes. Terry yelled, losing his mojo, and I had to grab the bar. I stood there cowering as he shook his head snd wiped his eyes. Was he going to clobber me? Suddenly he laughed and said, “Griz I hope you’ve had your shots, because now we’re sweat bros!”
He was always a good guy with me, thankfully.
Interesting commentary on the time and memories of one's life.
I was born in England in 1933. My first, lasting memory, from about the age of 5 years, was that I was chronic Asthmatic, constantly fighting for oxygen in the most air-polluted area of central London, where our only form of heating was a large coal fire, sitting with my parents, who both smoked cigarettes.
My second memory was sitting with my mother and father, listening to our battery-powered radio, when the Prime Minster announced that Britain was at war with Germany. We had no electricity, no bathroom and the flush toilet was outside in the back yard.
Then there were the air-raids, sleeping in tube stations, the evacuations of children from London and their parents, the rationing, the G.I.'s in thousands. It was both an exciting and terrifying time, but it did, also build self-reliance and comradeship.
Fast forward to 1955. I met fell in love and got married to Barbara, the most wonderful and beautiful girl. She is my beloved wife today.
In 1968, I was sent, by my employer to the USA one a one-year assignment, along with my wife and two children. I fell in love again. this time with America and with our new-found American friends. After returning to the UK, I was determined to return to America with my family. By 1971, we returned to Rochester NY. where we were blessed with a third child. We are still here in the USA, now living in Santa Barbara.
92 years have gone by with increasing rapidity in my mind's eye. I have experienced so much change. And the rate of change is still accelerating, just as my life seems to be passing faster and faster
Barbara and I are very fortunate to still have pretty good physical and mental health, if we ignore the wear and tear of age. I have become very interested in AI. It is so fast and complete in its answers to often, complex questions.
Wow, Derek. Good for you. My mom is 92 and lived in Germany and shared many similar stories. You are the poster child to live life to the fullest and long. Keep up the good work.
Derek is indeed a ‘poster child’: an exemplary, informed patriot contributing full throttle on multiple levels. He has the energy of a 30 year old, smarts and depth of wisdom far beyond his nine plus decades. A highlight for me was meeting Derek in 2024! I’ve learned much from him. As a Gerontologist I observe too few pursue life long learning, active participation, networking and leading in their later years using chronological age as an excuse. Not so for others! At 107, local Eastsider civic leader Anita Mackey gave a speech on finance. At 111, she was still engaged in current events prior to her death.
Too often I fail to properly communicate my appreciation for the impactful contribution of others to my life. Your article Henry — and Peter MacDougall’s recent death — reminded me of my indebtedness— that I’ve much do in the coming months and hopefully years to thank others when I reflect on past chapters of my life story.
Enjoy what you write very much so true.
YES, I am 91and looking to the future every day.
What a nice piece. Brings back many fond memories. Also reminds us to stop bickering every so often and look at the big picture.
What a great writing. Thought provoking. 👍👍👍
More great observations, Henry. I often find myself thinking right along the same lines as you. Make the most of every day, enjoy the ones you love and try to make the world a better place. Here’s to hoping we make it past the longevity average. 🍻
This article struck a chord with me. I am 76, healthy, and have been retired for a few years. With more discretionary time I have been reaching the deepest recesses of my memory and becoming reacquainted with events and people long forgotten. I have found it to be calming and reassuring as the process of life is being completed.
Berney
There is a short video of Alice Cooper talking about his dear friend and neighbor Glen Campbell who died from Alzheimer's. Alice noted that in the last years of Glen's life he could barely communicate and hardly new where he was. But if you put a guitar in his hands he would play it like the Glen of old.
Thanks for the musings. Musical memories are some of the best, and where does the time go?
A verse from the Ruba'iyyat of Omar Khayyam (Graves - Shah translation):
In childhood once we crouched before our teacher,
Growing content in time with what he taught;
How does this story end? What happened to us?
We came like water, and like wind were gone.
A great verse. The first two lines seems to suggest the comfort and security of dogmatic belief--connecting to the final line, we come into life, are taught comforting lessons as, like water, our mind flows into the forms given to us, then the wind blows and we're gone. But there's also a very old Middle Eastern story, the Tale of the Sand which gives a very different take:
https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=Idries+Shah+tale+of+the+sand&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:7769cfbd,vid:c_bE4fFmAVo,st:0
Two verses from my book, The Garden Path, relate to these musings as well:
Those things for which we have been vying
Lose value when we see we're dying.
It's when we get old
We find the real gold's
The One we've become in the trying.
That world created in our mind,
Some day we'll leave it all behind.
Who is it will say
On that fateful day,
This world is Good, with love aligned.
Beautifully written. It's interesting to note all our different takes on life and yet we all share the same feelings. I guess some of it comes with age when we leave ego and anger behind and remember when we were 20 and we had a long time. We didn't worry about the end too much then.
Yep, we don't realize the importance of taking time doing things until there's much less time available to do them. ;-)
Thanks BV, for sharing these ephemeral moments captured in poetry.
"Sailing to Byzantium" (Yeats) is my own personal favorite reflecting time, mortality, and eventual loss.
________
"That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
(four more stanzas.................................. Sailing to Byzantium)"
Great article Henry, where does all the time go…I have no idea. I’m reminded of a Dylan lyric from “Oh Sister,” “Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore.”
As a recently retired boomer, I often think about mortality, especially when seeing so many icons pass on to the next life. I often enjoy watching old shows from the 60’s on Hulu. Last night was an episode of “Combat,” when it dawned on me, the entire cast is no longer alive.
Yes like sands in a hour glass, it just keeps going on. I often feel my age when seeing my kids and others as now adults. Can’t help but wonder what did I miss?
As for my Ozzie Osborne tale, I once caught his insanity on stage in my hometown of San Antonio at the long gone Convention Center Arena which was a leftover from Hemisfair 68’.
After his lively performance, he was later caught relieving himself by taking a whiz on the Alamo and arrested for indecent exposure! For desecrating our shrine, he was banned from performing any more shows in San Antonio for life! Urinating on the Alamo ranks right up there with eating off the head of a live Bat on stage! Ya, Ozzie was a sick puppy.
https://www.ksat.com/entertainment/2024/02/20/ozzy-osbourne-marks-42-year-anniversary-of-urinating-arrest-in-san-antonio/
Another favorite band of our era was the Byrds...and a little song called "Turn! Turn! Turn!", also known as or subtitled "To Everything There Is a Season", is a song written by Pete Seeger in 1959 and deals with these very thoughts. Taken from a Hymn, I recall my Grandma often singing "...this world is not our home...we're just a passing through..." So although you opened the door to a sermon, I'll be brief and to the point.
This system isn't what the GOD of Creation intended...we changed all that. However, because He loves us (first), He has provided a real Hope for us. We can live forever with Him if we will just believe that His only Son was born, lived, died (for our sin debt) and was resurrected. It's a free gift.
No need to fret Henry. You have expressed what ALL of us think or worry about. I pray we ALL accept HIS gift and enjoy one another for...ever. Blessings and thank you for sharing your life with us. You are well spoken and appreciated.
You are too kind and thank you. Even though not directly related, my father owned a lot of property along the coast at one time. Though he always told me, he didn't own it, he was just the caretaker while he was alive. That truth can be applied to everything in our lives because we also just live on borrowed time and we can't take all our stuff with us.
I had a chance to listen to Kenny Chesney's song, Don't Blink. Wow. Thanks for letting me know about that. Same train of thought which I'm certain many of us share.