What you are reading in this article is simply the thoughts of a thinker who has been blessed with a life which exceeds half again beyond the 7th decade; exceeding by five the biblical allotment of three score year and ten.
Though the school of hard-knocks wins one no diplomas, the Little Lady and I, having shared 52 years, would have majored in many, with our living room wall diploma displayed, in every which way, for we have experienced the ultimate high and the lowest of agony in what life had to offer while together.
We did not live a life that could be considered in any way dull. Though it circled not the world, and included few faraway places, it certainly didn’t lack challenge or change. Perhaps we were lucky in being so blessed, having been hitched by providence to the right partner; one to the other.
Having both started life living rural route, in mixed farming locations, was no doubt the bond that we had in common. Our growing up years, both preteen and full teens, were during an extreme, no-money period. It was experienced then, and known in history books of today, as the Great Depression, leaving us knowing all too well how to make do when things got tough, got rough, no work, no pay, and damned little social assistance.
We simply forgot about what we wanted and bartered for the extreme that was needed, by helping others wherever and whenever we could, for what little, if any, we could gain from each. Though they were tough times they were good times. Families stuck together like glue and neighbours helped neighbours.
Having been born within the grasp of this prosaic Great Depression, followed on its heels by World War II; left both of us in a time frame of life, as were most others, which aborted the prestige of having a suitable selection of credibility letters, in one field or another, tacked on to the butt end of our names; but this lack of education left us at no time feeling jeopardized in any one way or another. Life is what you make it. And it was probably this that enabled us, through self education, to handle some of the ups and tackle the downs head on, which life was to later hand us.
Teaching one’s self has a tendency to lean heavily toward thought. Which, inevitably encourages one how to think, not what to think, as do the narrow veined ruts of curriculums which head in the direction of specialists. This route inevitably leads one down the garden path; knowing more and more about less and less, until one knows everything about next to nothing. Not a healthy situation when jobs are scarce.
During the tragic mishaps of life, to which education is not tailored and no degree in any field softens the blow in any way; is an experience that the Little Lady and I should have been able to talk about with a greater degree of authority than most. Having lost two sons on two separate occasions, two and one half years apart, by seemingly freak but avoidable accidents; one in mid-teens, the other mid-twenties; leaves us with no degree of expertise on the subject other than connecting the fact that those who advocate that time will heal, have walked not in identical foot steps. Time does not heal, but one simply learns how to live through each necessary tomorrow. Life must go on.
Discrete discrimination, by placement of letters of note, was neatly avoidable on my part when my father taught me the alphabet backwards at the age of three. Ever since then I’ve simply found the scrambling of all 26 letters more than quite interesting. The entire alphabet, fore-fronting my signature, selectively grouped, expressing my thoughts and opinions gained, as I tumble down the stair steps of life, leaves little chance of alphabet discrimination. The magic of email and the worldwide web makes it now possible to discover a far greater and more diversified audience. With it comes the realization that think-alike people the world over appreciate the simple little things in life.
Mark your calendar folks, Greenspaces’ birdhouse workshop, at Greenway Blooming Centre, March 18 and 19. Call for reservations.
Take care, ‘cause we care.