No More “Laters”

I posted the following several years ago shortly after my friend, Jim, died.  The idea that our time on earth is limited was in the forefront of my thoughts.

Time is a funny thing.  When we’re young time passes very slowly.  Our next birthday and Christmas seem like they’ll never come. Summer vacations are about the only “time” of the year that time passes quickly.

I was going through some old school documents from my education career and ran across the following story.   I don’t know the author, but it wasn’t me.  I’ve never been this insightful.

What is a grandmother?

A grandmother is a lady who has no children of her own.  She likes other people’s little boys and girls.  A grandfather is a man grandmother.  He goes for walks with the boys, and they talk about fishing and tractors and stuff like that.

Grandmothers don’t have to do anything but be there.  They are old, so they shouldn’t play hard or run.  Instead, they drive us to the market where the mechanical horse is and have lots of dimes ready.  They never say, “Hurry up.”

Usually grandmothers are fat, but not too fat to tie your shoes.  They wear glasses and funny underwear.  They can take their teeth and gums off.

It is better if grandmothers don’t typewrite or play cards, except with us.  They don’t have to be smart, only answer questions like, “Why do dogs chase cats.”

Grandmothers don’t talk baby talk like strangers do because it’s hard to understand.  When they read to us, they don’t try to skip pages, and they don’t mind if it’s the same story over again.

Everybody should try to have a grandmother, especially if you don’t have a TV, because they are the only grown-ups who have time.

Time.  Everybody has some, but we really don’t know how much.  Most of us want more than we have, and yet, we don’t always use it wisely.

I’ve thought about time a lot for the past several days.  I’ve decided that the most important thing about time, no matter how much you may have, is that you should share yours with people you love.   Do things rather than buy things.  Be positive even if positive is hard.   

I still believe that, but I think the real enemy of time is “later.” I’ll do it later. Some of my “laters” have turned into “nevers.” Travel is the big one. Ruth wanted to go farther than I did. While we did plenty of traveling within the United States, our trips outside were limited—a single visit to Mexico with Elizabeth and Sutton, a few drives over the Ambassador Bridge to Windsor, a train ride to Toronto when the kids were young, and three or four Caribbean cruises after I retired.

She would have traveled more often. Europe was the big dream. She’d been three times, but we never went together. I was happy spending winters in Florida and summers in Michigan.

The weekend before she died, I agreed to take a cruise of the British Isles and spend a few days in London. I thought about that trip yesterday while talking with my friend Dave. I ended up going with him and his wife, Anne, a year after the original plan. I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t the same without Ruth. The trip we thought we’d take “later” became one we never took together.

Dave turns eighty next month. He and Anne are heading to Hawaii to celebrate.  Good for him.  He’s struggled with his share of health issues but isn’t letting them get in the way of living life.  “Later” doesn’t appear to be an issue for him.

He’s one of the handful of guys I can go months, even years, without talking to and still pick up right where we left off. He’s that kind of friend.  He’s invited me to take another trip to Biloxi with him the first week of March.  I’m going.  I’m not letting “later” creep in.

I teased him a bit about turning eighty, telling him that back in our forties, I never thought he’d make it that far. Then it hit me, I’m only sixteen months away from that milestone myself.  If you’ve been reading my blog since the beginning, you know that my personal goal is March 3, 2041.  I’ll be ninety-three years, nine months and three days old.  I will have outlived my mother just as I promised her.  That’s a little over fifteen years away.

I’m spending my final years embracing more “nows” and ditching the “laters.” I got a late start on taking better care of myself, but I’m committed to keeping it going. Karaoke lessons kick off this Friday, so I’ll be singing in the squares soon. March takes me to Biloxi, with dance lessons carrying me through spring, then off to California for BZ’s next book release. In May, it’s back to Michigan for Eva’s graduation, a trip to Vegas in June to celebrate Brady’s twenty-first birthday, followed by a golf tournament with David right after the 4th of July. Later that month, I’ll join my VSO for a trip through the Canadian Rockies, and in August, we’re heading to Chautauqua, New York.

I’m looking forward to all of it.  It keeps me going. I made a deal with my mom when she turned eighty-eight and I’m sticking to it.