Reminisce or Live?

By Mike Raether

Do you like to daydream? I caught myself daydreaming at my desk

Entrance to Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, Washington State
Entrance to Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, Washington State

recently, or rather, reminiscing on some past pleasures of my life. I smiled as I remembered when I had a boat, a 24’ cabin cruiser aboard which I spent many lovely days plying the protected bays and harbors of the San Juan Islands of Washington State. Ah! Those were the days! I thought to myself, missing the sea something awful now that I live hundreds of miles away in the mountains of Montana.

About that time an alarm went off in my head.

“Self,” I said to myself, “What are you doing living in the past?”

There is danger hidden in some memories. A memory can be an insidious enemy that drifts lightly into our minds, enchanting us like a feather floating on the wind, all the while robbing us of the present and the future. We can get so caught up in memories that we forget to live in the present, and sometimes even pass on the future. We can become like old men feeding pigeons in a park, mindlessly passing time until death draws a curtain over life.

I do cherish my memories, especially as I’m now in my sixth decade of life. I’ve been a lot of places, seen a lot of things, and done a lot of

Road to Somewhere
Road to Somewhere

stuff. I think I’ve lived well, and would have few regrets should I receive a bad report from my doctor. But I’ve come to realize that there’s a whole lot of livin’ left to be done. And life may have saved the best for last.

I write mostly to my older readers today, who like me are standing in the shadow of mortality. Far gone are the days of youth when I thought I was bullet-proof. My body howls at the things I demand of it. If I take a six-mile hike, I’ll pay for three days (although I’ll do it anyway). I used to survive on five or six hours of sleep a night and brag about it, but now eight hours of solid sleep is one of life’s great treasures. And so it’s tempting to fold my hands in rest, leave the mountains of life to the young bucks, and toss a few crumbs to the pigeons. Until the challenge of what yet may be serves up a better plate than that of stale, past pursuits. Until I think of what can be, what should be, what must be.

I’m reminded of those who accomplished great things in the Indian summer of life.

At 60, playwright and essayist George Bernard Shaw completed the play, Heartbreak House, thought of by many as his masterpiece.

At 70, Benjamin Franklin helped draft the Declaration of Independence.

At 80, British-American actress Jessica Tandy became the oldest person to receive an Oscar for her performance in Driving Miss Daisy.

In his 80s, the Biblical patriarch Caleb sought permission to make his home in the hill country of the Promised Land, where the enemy still held strongholds. “Perhaps God will be with me,” he said, “And I’ll drive them out.”

“Perhaps…” Perhaps is a good word. The 16th century French Renaissance writer Francois Rabelais once said, “I go to seek a great perhaps.”

What is your “great perhaps”? What would you attempt if “perhaps”? What would you try? Why not find out? Beats feeding pigeons in the park.

Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life,

For which the first was made.

(Robert Browning).

But wait, there’s more! (I’m being facetious, but there really is more). I’m interested in your thoughts. You can send me an email, post a comment right here online and more –  

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