NOTES FROM THE 8TH DECADE #21

WHICH WAY ARE YOU GOING BILLY

MAY, 2014

I’ve been spending a lot of time recently conducting a personal retrospective of my work. Fortunately I have digital files of most of my artwork, as well as portfolios filled with drawings and sketches from the past 50 plus years. The volume of the work is impressive. Most of it is pretty good, some of it is very good, and some of it is not so good to awful. I have enjoyed seeing its evolution and have been sobered by the reminders of the failures. The experience has inspired me to move forward, building on the good while learning from the bad.

To a lesser extent I’ve been doing the same thing with my personal life. The Internet and social mediums allow me to reach out to distant family, and old friends and acquaintances, to rekindle old relationships, establish new ones, and to nurture cherished memories. 

The accumulation of years tends to push us backwards, ever deeper into the past. Nostalgia can easily become the default setting that drives our thinking. This is enhanced by another characteristic tendency of age, the reluctance to move forward into new and unfamiliar directions and the fear of re-defining ourselves. There is comfort and security in staying close to what we know. Most of the “some days” are behind us, and experience has blunted the unbridled enthusiasm of youth. This is the mindset that has characterized the first several years of this decade for me.

Fortunately it doesn’t have to be this way, at least not totally. Now, at the mid point of the 8^th decade, I find that with a little effort and a lot of commitment it is possible to find the proper balance between these opposing directions. Where we place the fulcrum depends on individual preferences. Reaching into the past can allow us to re-visit both the good and the bad, perhaps providing new insights on what we once thought, or did.  There may be lessons to be learned that will provide some guidance for what is still to come. Perhaps there will be an opportunity to complete something left undone, or to re-kindle or redefine old relationships. However, as helpful as “managing” the past may be, the real challenge is optimizing the future. I am beginning to feel that this will become the major focus in the years ahead.

The priority should always be on the future, as long as we are allowed to have one.

NOTES FROM THE 8TH DECADE #20

SEVENTY-FIVE

Spring 2014

Seventy-five, or 75, either way it’s a rather nice number, combining the number 7 with my favorite number, 5.  Maybe that is why I have treated this latest birthday with so much optimism and enthusiasm.  Gone is the gloom and doom that was seeping into my mind a few years ago, when I felt the best years of my life were behind me. It is true that lost opportunities cannot be recovered, but in their place are remarkable new opportunities - the chance to pursue dreams with a freedom and abandonment unfettered by the responsibilities of youth. I have promised myself to take advantage of this opportunity with newly re-claimed vim and vigor (meaning only one nap a day and staying awake until at least 9:30 every night).

In the last 5 years I’ve spent considerable time looking at the past, and will continue to do so because it remains rich with memories that I cherish, but the real focus now will be on what is yet to come. What makes this time so unique and unlike the past is not having so many other issues and tasks competing for my attention. There is a narrower and sharper focus that is enhanced by the uncertainty of the future. Every day, every week, every month is a gift.

I have a pretty clear idea of what I want to accomplish, and have set out to do so, one day at a time. I am excited about the future, and for this I am most grateful.

THE LITTLE MAN

Mom  1985

 

When I was a young boy, perhaps 4 or 5 years old, my mother would occasionally give me a special treat, unexpected and unrelated to anything I did or did not do or to any holiday or celebration. It was usually something to do with art: crayons, a coloring book, perhaps a set of watercolor paints, and occasionally there was a piece of candy or a pack of gum. She told me a little man had brought them for me, and I had no problem believing her. Although I never met this little man, and never inquired about his identity, he became an important person in my young life.

The little man quietly disappeared in the years that followed. I don’t remember ever asking about him, and although I may have forgotten him, he never forgot me. That little man gave me so much more than an occasional special gift. Quietly and without my awareness (blinded by the self-centeredness of youth), the gifts continued, gifts that would remain with me for the rest of my life, helping me navigate the years ahead.

The little man was remarkable, wise in ways that cannot be taught. He had the uncanny ability to see people as they really were, to understand them and be sensitive to their needs and their failings. One of his greatest gifts was the ability to make people in his presence feel appreciated and special. He was devoted to me, loving and caring, but wise enough to trust me to go out into the world to become what I was intended to be. He never asked for anything in return, and wanted only for me to be happy. I have spent my entire life standing on his shoulders, and intend to remain there until the day I die.

The “little man” left us on a gray December day in 1991, but her gifts to me, and to others in her life, have endured endlessly. 

Mom  1985

Mom & Billy Mattioli in our front yard circa 1955

NOTES FROM THE 8TH DECADE #19

RITES OF PASSAGE

February 2014 

An ageing doctor

There are several rites of passage that mark our entrance into the “senior years” of life. The first, the most passive of the lot, is the arrival of the Medicare card. I remember very clearly my reaction to seeing that card with my name on it: “this can’t be real!  I’m looking at a Medicare card with MY name on it. My father and mother had Medicare cards: what am I doing with one?” In all honesty I must say that my exaggerated bewilderment was accompanied by an amazing sense of relief and comfort, having just been several months without any medical coverage.

I got over it.

The second Rite applies only those who usually pee standing up – the dwindling urinary stream. Gone are the days of peeing over a bush into the neighbor’s yard. Now you’re happy if you can pee without getting your shoes wet.

I’ve had that problem fixed.

The third Rite…getting a cataract removed, and yesterday I had one removed from my left eye. The one in my right eye is next. I will spare you the details of this relatively simple (from the patient’s point of view – no pun intended) procedure, but I will share this single tidbit of information for those of you anticipating such an event.

Since yesterday morning I have had 1,219 drops instilled in the involved eye.

But it is worth it, because besides seeing the world better, I get to wear these cool Ray Bans.