Category: Old Man Musing

When I met my Sweetheart, I couldn’t even find the light. She was all I could think about. Still is, five years a widower. And we’d both do it again.

Now, a 75 year old Male Curmudgeon, I’m astonished hearing my 20 something Neighbor/Dog Rescuer/Teacher/Soprano/Fellow Chef and Fortuitous Confidant about modern relationships. Discovered there’s even a name for it: Hetero-fatalism! Maybe, a la William Shakespeare, it isn’t a really new idea.

After reading today the latest news from our nations capital, I shared, with a young woman I have great respect for, the literal meanings of some traditional, military acronyms: SNAFU & FUBAR.

I did not include the favored description of chaos from my last IBM manager: “Goat Rodeo”

He sang, “The only two things that make life worth living, are guitars tuned good and firm feeling women”. Old son, you also need these, on table!

Five years a widower, walking out of the Cary Arts Center yesterday night, a tall woman with family on each side looked at me and I looked back. She was age appropriate and elegant and lovely. And I walked to my truck – a little shaken.

17 January 1992, Friday, about 6 PM, I parked in the lot of a neighborhood saloon to avoid going home to a failed and contentious marriage. Separate bedrooms for 4 or 5 months. Two very young sons kept me captive.

And I saw a woman with a car stuck in snow (Northern Ohio). Helped push it out. We spent the next 30 years together. Till death we did part.

John Prine Documentary

We sang in the car to a cassette player on I-71, between Delaware and North Ridgeville, Ohio on Visitation Weekends. And later, as a trio to astonished first cousins in Michigan:

“Give my feet to the footloose
Careless, fancy free
Give my knees to the needy
Don’t pull that stuff on me
Hand me down my walking cane
It’s a sin to tell a lie
Send my mouth way down south
And kiss my ass goodbye”

It is delicious fun to sing when you are 8 and 10 years old! Forbidden lyrics!

WCPE Thursday Night Opera tonight is “The Tender Land” by Aaron Copland. Long after the nights I drove home from teaching Photography at Page Walker in Cary, listening to Operas I had no idea of the language -just went with the music. So, long time Copland fan: Appalachian Spring, Rodeo – yep.

There is, I believe, a communion of the human spirit in Art that some find in Religion. It may be the same. Pretty sure it is.

Yesterday, I went to the Early Voting Site at the Herb C Young Community Center in Cary, North Carolina. Same place that Cary Photographic Artists hold their monthly meetings. Thought, Wed., gray and wet, won’t be anyone there. Wrong! Forgot it was one of the Wake County Early Voting Sites!

My Ballot was slim, one Elective Choice for an “At Large Cary Council Member”. Still, it took an hour. Which was not a worry. My time is my time. Met and visited with some folks in line. Told some lame jokes. And Voted. With my Real Photo ID! Didn’t see ICE! I did park in the Garage, got 300 steps in each way plus down 60 and up 60 steps to the top deck.

Before Voting, I stopped at “Paris Baguette” for Croissants with Egg, Cheese and Bacon – Heavenly! But as I’ve learned the hard way, often sold out by 11 AM. Scored 2 of the last 3 – then Voted! Next, stop at Harris Teeter for Gouda Cracker Cuts and BOGO Ben & JERRY Pints!

I’ve no debt, a like new 2005 Chevy W/T needing nothing, good chunk of dough in the bank in CD & HYS ( sold house in 2024 for double paid in 2013), full frig and nothing but routine visits to Dentist & Doc I’ve seen since 1999. And Tax free income and household budget that leaves plenty of wiggle room each month. As Miss Piggy advised, the “Secret to managing money is managing to have enough!” And I do!

Good pile of “To Be Read” books, the luxury of time to plan and cook meals and no demands on my time. Time to dog sit and listen to “NightBird”.

All the Legal stuff is done. Following House Sale and as a Widower, made all new: Will, Power of Attorney and Durable Power of Health Care Attorney. Plus an Advanced Medical Directive for whenever one of my vital parts hits the expiration date. Had a frank and candid discussion with my PCP: palliative care only, no surgeries, chemo or radiation . Just a morphine drip (not keen on suffering) and lemme go.

Left to do and soon, is to prepay my Cremation and execute a Disposition of Remains – which means my ashes go 3+ miles off Hatteras (NC Law) with the ashes of two Labrador Retrievers. We all 3 liked the ocean.

Estate is the stuff in my 1BR Apt that will get tossed into a “Habitat” donation or more likely, a” Junk Doctors” truck (last move cost me $500 to throw away the big stuff). Accounts in my Credit Union, already designated, no probate.

Yep, like the 1MC Announcement & Klaxon

“Now Dive, Dive “ Klaxon

To borrow a lyric from Laura Nyro:

Give me my freedom for as long as I be
All I ask of living is to have no chains on me

All I ask of living is to have no chains on me
And all I ask of dying is to go naturally
Only want to go naturally

Early today was a trip to the Post Office for some family business, then a self promised visit to the Downtown Cary Farmers Market.

Downtown Cary Park is a wonderful place to visit and walk and get vitamins in your heart from seeing dogs and children and their attendant grown-ups, play. So I was smitten by a 2 or maybe three year old tow head, looking down in excitement by activity in the pond below a wonderful walking bridge.

Curious, I learned over the railing to see a pair of female Mallard ducks bobbing for food. Without thinking, I said aloud, mostly for the excited little boy “those are girl ducks”. His father, who looked like a prosperous and well groomed “30ish” said aloud “how do you know?”

Stunned, I said Mallard ducks are very common around here and the Males (Drakes) have dark blue green heads and neck rings. Silence.

So I looked at Mom and said “There are lots more at the boathouse at Bond Park, you’ll see what I mean”. And it was like I had revealed a “secret”.

And I wondered how far we have removed ourselves from our native environment while addicted to the nonsense of oxymoronically “SmartPhones”. Which sort of explains the one handed left turning young man driving a Honda while holding his phone in the other as I waited to cross Academy Street to the park.

We are, I think, as Neil Postman wrote “Amusing Ourselves To Death”.

In my older apartment complex, it’s usually quiet except for the hellishly loud backpack leaf blowers of the weekly landscape crew and currently,the woeful wailing’s of a dog left alone in the apartment behind me. I have exhausted my frustration for the poor dog in e-Mails to the apartment complex management. It is neither life threatening or physically harmful – just aggravating. I would be willing to dog sit. But that’s not what this is about.

I thought about all the modern stuff I got rid of or never had: Social Media ( Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, X, AI anything), Streaming anything, Apple anything, Amazon anything, Cable anything and Fast Food. Reading the news, I have NO idea why the Cracker Barrel logo matters at all! Was in one once, decades ago – meh.

Point is, all the noise is just that – meaningless noise, as in “It ain’t about nuthin” (a favorite, ungrammatical double negative and borderline malapropism).

My “TBR” (To Be Read”) stack of books is always handy and I’ve plenty of music CDS. WCPE FM is always entertaining and restorative. Legitimate, curated news is available by digital subscription with no ads.

So except for weekly leaf blowers and the occasional mournful dog, I’m noise free!

When you realize your OXO Good Grips Garlic Press (❤️, ❤️, ❤️) could work with Shallots, too! (Okay, I swiped the image from the OXO site, lazy photographer & Saturday afternoon Happy Hour – but I did de-vein the Shrimp ).

Shrimps shells are getting happy in slow pan with water before liquor goes into base sauce of olive oil, good cheap white box wine, garlic, shallot and Meyer (what else) Lemon zest. Quick hit with Shrimp, than the rest of yesterdays Brown & White Rice made in homemade Shrimp stock goes in. Besides proper country French Bread, sliced vine ripe tomato in olive oil and just cut Basil from my upstairs neighbor’s ginormous Basil bush (I got a very kind “Thank You” note about the still warm Basil pasta I brought her after my first foray).

Glorious good weather with VERY comfortable Dew Point, Humidity and Temp – all windows & door open. I’m good!

Day after Christmas 2009, visiting wife’s family in my old home town. Needed air and sun. Found it by the mouth of the Cuyahoga River

My young neighbor & BFF confirmed the accuracy of an extraordinary article in the New York Times about modern courtship – okay “Dating” : The Trouble With Wanting Men: “Women are so fed up with dating men that the phenomenon even has a name: heterofatalism”

In about two weeks, I’ll finish my 75th turn around the Sun. And I had no idea. Had a well intended but doomed first marriage of 21 years. Me and my soulmate both got it right the second time. For nearly 30 years. Till death did part us.

But this – chronological men acting like boys – makes me embarrassed. Young men, I believe, need the focus and discipline of Recruit Training in Armed Services. Better, actual service. So the ladies don’t have to do two jobs – their day job for a paycheck and the second job, caring for a man-child.

In the news today, President Trump Says Coca-Cola agreed to use Cane Sugar in Coke, made in the U.S.A.. He said “It just tastes better”! But he drinks Diet Coke, sweetened with Aspartame! How do he know? Very confusing!

Written in 1971 by Sylvia Tyson, the lyric described me for years, after my sweetheart died. Nearly a dirge. Time, mercifully, is a healer. Still, there is an occasional pillow staring, “from the first light and the dawn”. And so it goes.

Gifted child, left life at half my age. I plan to ask the Great Spirit -why?

1960’s popular culture reference – my explanation at the last Cary Photographic Artists Meeting where I socialized with age appropriate (aka grey hairs). Yeah, my string got pulled. In a good way!

The Post Office delivered two CDs today from Goodwill Minneapolis. This was on one of them. And yes, I give a damn about my fellow man. Tres important! The more things change, the more they stay the same. Radio stations in 1967 refused to play due to the use of “Damn”. Imagine! Way before the current President.