Dear Laurie,
I know it’s October and your were born in April but I wanted to send you this no to be the first to wish you a very happy 61st birthday. I wanted to do this for your 60th, but as you know that was when my old prostate was acting up and recovery from that particular kind of surgery surgery don’t cotton much to creativity. I’m sorry I missed it. It was important for you to turn 60. I wanted to call it a seminal birthday but considering my particular lower 48 health issues, your Aunt Estelle thinks that sounded kind of vulgar. So, since she always likes to read what I write you before I send it, we’ll stick with it being an “important” birthday. I left seminal in and she hit me on the leg with her crossword puzzle magazine.
Birthday presents and all that glittered finery they’re ensconced in are wonderful. I love getting them myself, and I have no problem in obtaining one for you, but I thought since you’re between 60 and 61, any present from me deserved to be a little special. I’m younger than your parents but older than you, so I felt something that can’t be wrapped or bought or sent on that Amazon nonsense over to you would fit the bill.
I’ll begin this by telling you that you’ve always been amusing. Not weird, not strange or perplexing though sometimes after talking with you I felt you were 35 year old PhD in a six year body. I remember watching you fearlessly climbing trees, so sure of each hand and foot placement and doing all those acrobatic tricks you knew how to do like a blonde haired pretzel. I remember how fast you could run and be at ease with kids your age and with adults even older than me. And then you grew up. You had this long career in TV and radio. I remember you pretending to be a news anchor interviewing your cousins with a banana as a microphone. They were too shy to answer your questions, but you weren’t to shy to ask them. This might sound silly coming from an old man, but I envied that about you. I still do, in a way. Even though we can both get the Seniors’ Special at Denny’s, I still wish I could be more like you.
I think I’ve only recently learned that life is about risk, taking chances and at least, occaisionally glimpsing over that scary cliff that life can be. As you know, I just turned 85 in January and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve spent my life in a safe vacuum, unwilling to do anything that might affect any aspect of my life. Risk scared me, inconvenience inconvenienced me and now here I sit (not all that comfortably, might I add) and I can see that all I did was compromise my happiness.
I reflect back on my life, as I’m sure you’ve done and if I know you, you continue to do that and I didn’t think I had any regrets, but I do. Estelle and I did what was expected of us at the time. I came home after Korea, we got married, I got into home construction, your aunt stayed home raising your cousins and it all felt right, but only to a degree.
We had a conversation recently and we both admitted that we were too frightened to do anything that deviated from the status quo of the time. Would you believe I just learned Estelle wanted to be a doctor? A cardiologist, no less! I told her had she become a urologist we would have saved a bundle on this most recent procedure. She laughed, then gently hit me again with her cross world puzzle magazine. She asked me what I really wanted to do or be. I told her I wish I would have had more courage. I did well in construction and made good money, but I didn’t use it wisely. I don’t mean I wasted it, but we had it and rarely did anything with it.
We wanted to vacation in Europe back in the 1960’s, but that was when all those damn airplane hijackings to Cuba were happening. Vacations by car rarely happened because I was the only one in our family who didn’t get carsick. We tried driving to California in 1966 and being forced to listen to four people wretching sounded like a five hour symphony of vomiting. I’m rock gutted but it was so constant, it was making me queasy. Stelle placed popcorn bags throughout the car thinking they were waterproof.
She was wrong.
We got as far as Lubbock before I decided that trying to meet my idol, my dream girl Raquel Welch and seeing Disneyland weren’t worth it. I turned the car around and we came back home. No Raquel. No Mickey or Minnie or any of the things that pissed off Kruschev . If that wasn’t bad enough, we really tried to live right. Keep out the bad stuff. We read all those crazy self help books of the time, believed every news report about the evils of eggs, saccharin, beef, red M&M’s, alcohol consumption and smoking.
But even with all I’ve written, do you want to know what really predicated this letter to you? Realization mostly, inspired by a recent visit to a new doctor.
My usual doc retired in May and I needed a post-op exam. After the first check up,. I asked him how I was doing medically. He told that I was fine “for a man of my age”. As the entire family knows, I’ve tried to live the healthiest life possible, but even so, his response alarmed me.
So, I asked him, “I’m not sure what that means. I consider myself to be a very careful, very healthy 85 year old guy. I’ve tried to live by the book, so what do you think, Doc? Will I live to the age of 90 and beyond, maybe?”
The doctor just looked at me and cocked his head. “Well, answer a few questions for me. Do you drink alcohol of any kind. What about drugs? Do you eat red meat, Bar-B-Q beef and pork with all the trimmings? Do you endure periods of stress and insomnia?”
“I do none of those things. I sleep fairly well, too!”
He squinted his eyes. “Do you work out? Race cars? Do you gamble, watch sports, play pool, have evenings out with the guys?”
I told him I exercise prostate permitting. Gambling is a vice I care to live without, and sports, other than watching a few baseball games, have never been my thing,
He asked, “Do you ever go get some ice cream just because you want some?”
I told him no. Sugar scares me. Plus, I’m retired. My wife is my best friend. It’s pretty much just the two us. Grown kids with almost grown kids of their own. We watch educational TV and documentaries and we ONLY listen to classical music and the occasional opera. Candide and La Boheme are my favorites. And I’d never risk life and limb by driving fast. In fact, I obey all speed limits. I’m proud to admit that I drive conservatively in my American-made sedan. I believe in “made in America”.
He continued on with this questioning. “Do you like being in the sun, sailing, playing golf, do you swim, play tennis, jog, cycling or hike? What about yard work?
“I do none of those things. I’m extremely fastidious. I hate getting dirty. As I’ve told you, I live life very safely. I don’t tempt fate. Unprotected exposure to sunlight is skin cancer waiting to happen.”
He then asked, “What about sex, in your marriage bed or extramaritally?”
I answered, “My wife and I care for each other, but we agreed to stop having sex 19 years ago. We figured our bodies didn’t need the over exertion, and there were, you know…..certain issues. It just stopped being relevant. but we couldn’t be closer! Our bedrooms are across the hall from each other. Nor would I or could I ever even contemplate an affair with some tarted up floozie. I believe in the sanctity of marriage.”
He looked puzzled and removed his glasses. “Really? All you’ve told me is true?”
I proudly responded “Yes!!. So lastly, do you think I’m going to live long enough to reach 90? Maybe longer?”
He shook his head. “With the way you’ve lived your life, why would you even give a shit?”
Needless to say, that gave me pause. Plus, I’ve never heard a doctor swear before.
I started thinking about what he said and frankly, that’s convinced me that I’ve probably never actually lived my life. I merely existed in it. I’ve walked, never ran. I played it too safe. I feared feared things I’m not even sure of forced and I guess that forced, me, us, my family me to live under a rock. I believed a bunch of lies Namely those which I told myself. Chalk it up to fear.
Well, not any more.
I don’t want you to wake up 30-years from now, if the Good Lord sees fit to give you 30 more, and wonder if you’ve done enough, read enough, loved enough, been loved enough, helped others enough and laughed enough. I know you travel, but travel to more places. I want you live your life and hopefully, continue to take chances like you did as a kid. It’s completely worth the risk, even at age 60. . Live your life in Technicolor, Laurie. Live it out loud, as I heard this younger gal say on the TV. It’s like that damn candy commercial: that one that urges those in their cavity prone years to taste the rainbow!
You’ve got a lot of life ahead of you. In many ways, the best part of your life has yet to unfold. Grab it and go. Anticipate all the wonders that are being laid out before you. In many ways, turning any age is a gift. It really is. Maybe you don’t regard it as such now, but you will in time. Sure you’re older, but I hope you believe certain risks are still worth taking.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must make plans for this evening. I’m taking your aunt out for a romantic dinner and dancing. I’m thinking steaks and a terrific Pinot Grigio.. Hell, maybe two bottles. Then, I’m calling the municipal airport to follow Big Daddy George Bush’s lead and inquire about tandem skydiving lessons for this Saturday and if I can secure a lesson at that time, I plan on driving above the speed limit to get there faster, while listening to some fast rock and roll rock music on the radio and eating peanut M&M’s.
But I’ll eat those slowly. I hope they melt in my hand. Even the red ones.
Regrets, Laurie; I hope you don’t have many and I hope you that if you do, let them go. They’ll age you before your years. So, carpe anos, Darlin’!! And have fun on your next birthday in April. Hope it’s a great one, Kiddo!
Love always,
Uncle Bob
PS. I wonder if the airplane can take me high enough and if I look towards Hollywood, I might finally see Raquel Welch’s boobs?
PSS. Laurie, this is your Aunt Estelle. I’m sorry you had to read that. Nasty old coot. This time I think I’ll hit him with a dictionary!!
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