Thursday, October 20, 2011
And since I turned 62 years old last month, I have noted that things around and within me are changing. Oh, there's the usual stuff about energy and the new aches and pains that go with age, but that's not all.
I go to this pharmacy about twice a week that has a breakfast counter. I wrote about it in a previous story. What I have become less tolerant of lately is the self-proclaimed geniuses that sit in that place, day after day, and spout off huge piles of, as our Irish friends would call it, shite. There's no easy way to say it. Their overtures complete with arm waiving and finger pointing make me sick. Can't people just sit down to a nice, quiet breakfast without all of the morning uproar? I guess not. I used to just ignore that nonsense. Now, I abhor it.
And then there's Bigfoot. No, not the sasquatch from the upper midwest, but the sasquatch that lives just above me in my apartment complex. For the last four and a half years, I have been serenaded with her heel-walking technique. Because of this, I know that she wakes up promptly each morning at 7:15 because that's what time she wakes me up. And when her boyfriend du jour shows up, I am serenaded with other noises that I understand, but do not appreciate any longer. And when her demonic children visit every other weekend, it is like listening to a landslide. Over and over again.
All of this being said, I have decided to move to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. There's too much violence here in Pittsburgh and the shootings and home invasions are getting too close for comfort. The only violence I hear about in the Old Order Amish is that once in a while, an Amish gang will cut the beard off of some guy. I don't know what they call that but I call it shaving. And to my knowledge, it's not a crime.
The Desiderata says "Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth." I must say that I'm not the most graceful of folks. And as far as surrendering the things of youth, well, I do that. But I am darned reluctant to give up most things. Things that I have carryed around inside for over 6 decades. Things like knowing that the Desiderata was not found in a Baltimore church in 1692 but rather, was penned by Terre Haute, Illinois poet Max Ehrmann in the early 20th century.
I guess that for me, the universe actually is unfolding as it should. But to quote the poet T.S. Eliot, my universe is unfolding not with a bang, but a whimper.