Two Score and Three

CNSNews ^ | November 13, 2002 | Ron Marr

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I have five cords of wood, two warm dogs, one very large barbecue pit, a Jeep with a dead battery and an old Ford extended cab that, not so coincidentally, smells remarkably like the leftovers from one very large barbecue pit.

I have a house that I love in a place that I love near a mountain that I love. The backyard is all trees and deer and a variety of critters that go snort in the night. I have a small but intensely loyal group of friends and family, about a zillion acquaintances, and many well-wishing readers.

I have several cool guitars, two dulcimers and a couple of banjos with broken strings. I have one set of drums, wind chimes galore and a brush covered slough with a nifty creek running smack dab though the middle of it. The freezer is full, the woodstove is hot and there is snow swirling in the air.

This is one of those days where I'm taking stock of my life. It's an annual event, a practice in which I engage just before I'm forced to mark another year off the calendar. You see, to me, birthdays aren't primarily about party hats and tootie horns and gifts.

Some of that stuff is neat (mainly the gifts) but the encroachment of age somehow strikes me as a time when one should take a look in the mirror and decide whether or not they like what they see. Is the reflection good, bad or indifferent? Has it changed for the better, has it weathered and cracked, or does it appear exactly the same.

Deep stuff? Nah...not really.

You see, contrary to popular belief I'm not always introspective. It's just that birthdays, for some reason, compel me to sit myself down in the witness chair, review the preceding 12 months and pass judgment. This last dozen have been both pretty hairy and pretty decent.

Oh sure, I might change a few things - but very few. If it was within my power I would permit my dogs to live forever. But, since I'm not omnipotent, that one will have to remain a wish. Even though one of my great ones passed this year I am still thankful for what he gave me and the many years we did have.

If I could do things over again I would have avoided that fling with the Florida gal, but 20-20 hindsight exists solely to improve our future vision. I might have eaten better, worked out more often and changed the oil in the Jeep a bit more frequently. I might even have taken to wearing protective glasses while splitting wood, a lesson I learned after danged near blinding myself last February. I do wear the glasses now, by the way. Wood in the eyeball really hurts.

I might have killed more weeds and mowed the grass before it went knee high. I might have checked the bird feeders more frequently. I might have been a bit less surly and more sedate when the moon was full and the libations flowed. I might have sent out more birthday cards, answered more mail and only flown my Confederate flag on federal holidays.

This is, in fact, a real easy birthday. Forty-three isn't that old...if you're a tree. Truth of the matter, if my parents and a few friends didn't remind me of the date, I would generally forget that I even had a birthday. In years past, many of my birthdays were spent in wander mode, and it wasn't till a few weeks after the fact that I would be hit with the realization that I was a little bit closer to viewing infinity's checkered flag.

So let's just say life is good, and leave it at that. Boris Pup and Henry Dog are stretched out on their couch. I've got lots of books to read, and if I can shake off my natural Southern lethargy, another one to write. My friends keep in touch, and the sky speaks of blizzards. We are now in those days where darkness begins to fall before 5:00 p.m. As one who prefers the dark, nothing could be better.

When you stop to think about it, life is more about what you do with what you've got than what you've got to do. You can be 25 and miserable or 80 and overjoyed. You can be so busy trying to build yourself up in front of others that you forget to gaze at the stars on a clear winter's night. You can become so obsessed with the stupid details, the omnipresent incompetence, the perceived affronts, the unkind words and the unfocused anger that the idea of smelling flowers, petting pups, smiling at a sunrise or just listening to the ballads of the creek never enters your mind. That's sad...but that's true.

As for me, on the 13th day of the 11th month, I will be happy. You see, I have five cords of wood, two warm dogs, one very large Barbecue pit, a Jeep with a dead battery and an old Ford extended cab that, not so coincidentally, smells remarkably like the leftovers from one very large barbecue pit.

I have a house that I love in a place that I love near a mountain that I love. The backyard is all trees and deer and a variety of critters that go snort in the night.

I have the life that I chose.

A life that, if given the chance, I would choose again.

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Good article about living the life you choose.