Yesterday was my 69th birthday. As I type 69th, it seems almost surreal. It is not that there aren’t glimpses, even startling realizations, which occur daily to bring me back to reality. These occurrences are varied… pain, fatigue, a look in the mirror. More often the reminders are more oblique.
I read an article in the paper about one of my childhood baseball heroes, hall of fame member Harmon Killebrew. He is dying and is receiving hospice care. It was sad, but he is an old-timer, and I was not surprised to hear such. Then I saw his age … 74. WHOA!
There are occasions with younger friends when I realize they were not even born when subject of our conversation happened.
I often aware of a presumption of obsolescence that seems to underlie personal encounters. A presumption that prevails for many whether young or old. I sometimes feel like a woodworker’s hand plane, set aside not because it cannot accomplish its intended purpose but because it requires too much time and effort. Or perhaps, there is no understanding of just what a hand plane can do. I suspect that the woodworker that has the greatest appreciation and skill with his state-of-the-art planer is one who has the experience and appreciation of using a hand plane.
There are other reminders and perhaps I will write about them in the future. The truth is I had a happy birthday not so much because of 69 years but because it was a celebration of life. Thanks to everyone who made the day special.