Wishing Your Life Away

Way back, many decades ago, in an issue of a periodical (Coronet I think), I read an article that criticized the practice we have of looking forward to particular events and longing for the time when those chores and events we disliked would be over and out of the way and we could move on to the joys. We were, the article said, wishing our lives away. We jumped forward to the favorable while attempting to speed past the unpleasant. We were disregarding the present and living for the future. It was a nice homily, though I don't agree with it all.

Regarding “the Rav” (Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik), the following was told to me by Rabbi Gedalyah Berger,

I heard the story from my uncle, who said that the Rav said that Jews (maybe davka [specifically] American Jews?) don't want to daven [to pray] – they want to be up-gedavent [they want to have prayed]

They did not question the validity and importance of the prayers, and they would certainly say them, but it was so much better when they were done and people could go on with their lives. They, too, were wishing their lives away.

The idea that there are good events for which we can't wait – we want to fast-forward to them – and others that we wish were out of the way, deleted, is pervasive. I suspect it's always been this way, and always will be. We're eager for the good times and happy to dismiss those that annoy us.

To a degree I concur with the author of the article but not completely.

My disagreement stems from the fact that I know my days are numbered. That's really true of everyone. From the day we're born – actually from the day we're conceived – it's all downhill. We don't see it that way most of the time. We act as if we're immortal and all we need to do is focus on what's going on in our lives and what we anticipate. We rarely consider the possibility of death. All's well and such thoughts are irrelevant.

Thought processes change when a clock is introduced – when the inevitable, but undreamed of, end becomes not only a realistic possibility but a likelihood. That's where I am now. I'm at Kübler-Ross's fifth step – acceptance. I'm going to die. Not necessarily soon, but sooner rather than later. I'm past three-score and ten, so I have no reason to gripe. And I know that the same G-d Who made the good also make the bad, so basically I've been fortunate. All I can do is pray that what follows will be what I want. I know it will be what G-d “wants.”

Having said that, however, it's important to me that I describe how my perception of time has changed. I fear the bad that I face, but I know that it will eventually come. In the meantime I feel much the same as everyone else in respect to looking forward to the good. But it's not that I long for the celebrations to come. More accurately, I put them on my calendar of events that I hope to enjoy. But I'm in no rush to reach them because I know that this reflects a kind of wish to shorten my life – and I'm not eager to do so. They're goals, but not what I want to be end points. My preference would be to go from goal to goal – from one joyous event to the next for whatever time is remaining. Perhaps treatment will be successful and my time will be extended, but I can't depend on that possibility.

In the meanwhile, I'm living every day as it comes. Like most other people I'm living in the present, but different from them I'm not simply going through time until something is out of the way. Or something desirable is achieved. I'm not killing time – in fact time is killing me. The same is true of everyone else, but most people don't realize it.

So for now it's “one day at a time,” and the wishful anticipation of joyous events to come. The concept is no different from that of others, but the perspective is a little different. What others may see as an obligatory journey with high and low points, and with a desire to focus on the high, I consider a gift to be enjoyed as it comes. I'm eager to celebrate the joyous days and to celebrate the accomplishments of those I love, but I'm less eager to reach them. They'll come when they come, and I certainly hope they'll come, but I'm in no rush. The immediate challenge is to make the most of each day that I am blessed with – good or bad.

And to take my time. I don't want to wish my life away.






April 2, 2017

To Die For

My current illness will, I suspect, ultimately lead to my demise. We all die though the mechanisms may be different. So I've put the issue on the back burner and decided to take things as they come. Denial also works for me. At least it helps. But denial works best until there is a clock. Then, maybe, you start thinking differently. My clock's running so thoughts related to death cross my mind. And there are lots of them. Allow me to indulge myself in a few – in no particular order.

Initially I decided that I don't want to die. I wanted to live forever. Then I rethought the question. Do I really? Of course I do. I need to know what happened – I don't want to leave in the middle of the story. What will happen to the world? Will the Jewish People flourish or be destroyed. Or, more to the point, what will happen to my grandchildren? And beyond.

But the world is passing me by and I have to reconsider what I wish for. During my lifetime America's politics has undergone dizzying changes. And there have been major advancements in technology, ethics, language, music, medicine, pop culture, and a host of other fields. Perhaps they're not all for the good, but they are, and the world is very different from what I experienced as a child.

Do I want to see my great-grandchildren develop. I suppose so. But if I live long enough to find out about them I'll probably see my children age and suffer, and I don't want that. In addition, my great-grandchildren, and the generations that follow, won't know me and will have concerns of their own. And I'll be sick, even if not terminally. Sooner or later I'll probably get some kind of dementia. Perhaps eternal Alzheimers if I hang on forever. Not for me. Nor is any other permanent illness – especially one associated with pain. And who will take care of me? I really don't want to be a burden on anyone and limit their own enjoyment of life. So forget that.

Nonetheless, I've wondered about their obligations, and the responsibilities of others towards me (and my wife who is ill as well). We have two sons in driving distance (and a daughter over 5,000 miles away) but, being younger, they have to support their own families. A visit every now and then, and the provision of some food, are welcome but it's unfair to demand more.

So it's up to me and whatever friends we have locally. Fortunately we're blessed with many who have offered to help out. Thinking about it, however, it strikes me that we all have obligations to the sick, and they are fulfilling a duty they feel inside, as well as helping us. What are their obligations? How can they help?

Most of them have offered rides. They want to take us to the doctor, and there are times that neither of us is up to driving, so it's very welcome. As is the offer of food. We've even received a cooked meal from one friend and ice cream from another. Neither of us has a very good appetite, so the food lasts a long time, and we're grateful for the gifts. It makes life easier for us and helps us get the calories we need.

But what helps most from our friends are our friends. Their visits and the concern they express are the real tonics. The ones who have come, however, are the same ones who brought food so the visits have been relatively few. And although I appreciate their friendship and offers of help they're sometimes more than I want. I'm not an invalid and don't want to be treated like one. Let me do what I can do while I can. I need to feel I'm still useful.

But I have obligations too. I see some of my other friends outside of my house and there are “things” I have for them. First of all is an expression of my gratitude, even for those who don't visit but only offer good wishes when they see me. I also try to provide them with good cheer and a laugh every now and then. And courage. I try to let them know that all is as well as it can be and that we're muddling through. The time will come when their clocks start ticking and Id like to believe that the strength I try to display is something that will help them along. Even if their only concern is aging. If we're lucky we get old. Notwithstanding the aches and pains, the "golden years" are usually worth it and I hope they can enjoy them. I try to ignore my own concern – my thoughts of death – and convince others that I'm not afraid.

The King And I has a song whose lyrics, by Oscar Hammerstein, bear witness to my concerns:

Whenever I feel afraid
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect I'm afraid

While shivering in my shoes
I strike a careless pose
And whistle a happy tune
And no one ever knows I'm afraid

The result of this deception
Is very strange to tell
For when I fool the people I fear

I fool myself as well

I whistle a happy tune
And every single time
The happiness in the tune
Convinces me that I'm not afraid

Make believe you're brave
And the trick will take you far
You may be as brave
As you make believe you are

While shivering in my shoes
I strike a careless pose

And whistle a happy tune
And no one ever knows I'm afraid

The result of this deception
Is very strange to tell
For when I fool the people
I fear I fool myself as well

I whistle a happy tune
And every single time
The happiness in the tune
Convinces me that I'm not afraid

I want to live. Perhaps not forever, but at any particular time I think “Not now. I want to be around for …” And I wonder if anyone, any idea, or any physical thing is worth dying for. My first response is “No.” But the more I think about it the more I realize that it's a complicated question. The decision of one who is young, a risk-taker filled with bravado, would reflect that mindset. An older person may not be as courageous in thought and speech. Additionally patriotism is a strong motive, and one of many reasons why people volunteer for military service.

But most people don't want to die. Certainly some commit suicide because of pain or depression, or choose martyrdom because of beliefs or to advance a cause. It isn't far-fetched to conclude that the latter were ready to die for a cause. That's not the same as committing suicide.

Belief itself is an important factor. If you're convinced that you'll be rewarded after death for an act you performed you're more likely to perform that act. However egotistical martyrdom is, it's a strong motivator. (And it helps if you're certain that your family will be rewarded for what you've done.)

One may choose death in order to save a family member or a friend. Perhaps there is the wish is to induce guilt in another. The survival instinct, both personal and for your species, will play a part in your decision. But in the end, dying for a person or a cause is not thought out but impulsive. It's a last minute decision that is emotional. One does not plan falling on a grenade or running into traffic to save another. The situations are unpredictable and so is the response. I don't know what my response might be and I won't know unless circumstances arise that dictate a response. I'm a coward, but who knows? But if, on the spur of the moment, I choose to die I won't be able to evaluate what I accomplished. I'll never know how things turned out.

Aye, there's the rub.

September 14, 2017

Some Thoughts

I have pancreatic cancer, so I'm a little preoccupied. I've been keeping a diary of my thoughts since my first symptoms appeared and now that I've been told that I have metastases I decided to put one page of the diary onto my blog. I wrote it a couple of days ago, and it expresses some of the ideas that have been going through my mind. Please forgive my self-pity. I'll try to be more upbeat next week.

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Not surprisingly, I've been thinking about death. I haven't gone back to look at previous entries and I may be repeating myself. So it goes.

I'm saddened by the idea that won't be able to see how others evaluate my life and my passing. Or, for that matter, anything else. Right now when I get tired I eagerly take a nap or, in the evening, go to sleep for the night, confident that I'll wake up. And then I'll evaluate any dreams I remember and plan for the day ahead. It's routine. I know that I'll be able to think about it and about anything else that I want. The idea that I'd never know about the past or the future is daunting; that I'd never have any knowledge of my family or anything else is unimaginable.

No matter how I try to formulate my ideas all I can decide is that in all likelihood what comes next, if that is anything at all, is completely separate from my experience on earth. I suspect that I'll neither know, nor have any interest, in my earthly existence. And I won't be aware of those I left behind. As I have no knowledge of any existence before I was born, I suspect that I'll have no knowledge of this one later on.

First of all though I should mention that I'm using human reasoning, which doesn't make any sense in this situation, but it's all I have. I'm not convinced there is any kind of life or existence of the soul after death. That's certainly something which common sense rejects. Common sense, however, doesn't seem to be in any way related to extra-rational “reality.” If that – something beyond rationality – is a component of the whole picture there is no way for us to make sense of it using the tools we have.

But if human rationality teaches me anything – if it has any application – it tells me that there must be an extra-rational component to whatever there is. And I don't know how atheists could deny it. Even if they believe that everything is explainable by the use of universal physical principles and formulas, they believe. One of the main themes of the physical sciences is that everything comes from something. So if there is a Universe, and if there are universal principles and formulas, they had to come from somewhere. There is no rational explanation for something from nothing.

And that brings me to the pondering of the possible post-earthly scenarios (at least the ones of which I can conceive in human terms) which may pertain. These are the few possibilities that G-d (that's the term that most use when speaking of the “extra-rational” force) lets us consider. There are surely others to which we are not privy.

What is most often viewed as likely is that the end of life is the end of life. Nothing follows it. It is eternal nothingness. (Of course the whole concept of “eternal” is, itself, beyond human comprehension.) While that may be the perspective of those who refuse to believe in belief, it doesn't make much sense for anyone who has accepted the idea of an extra-rational force – for what is the purpose of creating life that is finite and never understands its own role?

Of course “sense” is not the issue (and it's conceivable that “purpose” is inconsequential or meaningless), but it's difficult to reject what we've been taught all our lives. The issue would be the nature of that existence and its purpose.

Some picture an after death experience in terms of observation of the world by us as “angels,” or some other form of unearthly beings. We can see what is happening to our families and everyone else, but can effect nothing, though we can affect others through their memories of us. It's an idea that permits us to believe in a kind of extension of our earthly existence – an afterlife.

For many religions the post-passing period is one in which reward and punishment take place. It is one in which there are “Heaven” and “Hell” and, perhaps, something in between. And that view allows them (us?) to expect the physically, socially, economically, or otherwise deprived to be brought to equal terms, or perhaps to exceed the lot of, those who have followed the “rules,” whatever they are. And it allows the privileged ones to ignore the needy with the view that they will be rewarded later on. On the other hand, perhaps there is also the elevation of those who have sacrificed so that others my have a more rewarding earthly existence.

What constitutes Heaven? Is it an existence of leisure? Is there a “personal” relationship with our Maker? Is it the continuous learning of G-d's laws? Is it the enjoyment of whatever pleasures each person fantasizes?

There other possibilities as well. Some of which we can't even imagine. They are beyond the apprehension of the human mind. We cannot analyze them in rational terms.

The bottom line is that I don't know. And no one else knows either. What we are taught are the beliefs of others, for by the time they are “experiencing” that phase of existence or non-existence they are no longer in contact with us. So all we're left with are the beliefs and fears that we create for ourselves, and that's where I am now.

December 4, 2016

Various Thoughts XIII

More grist for the miller. As before, do with it as you see fit.

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I'm dying. But so are you. We're all dying. It started the moment we were conceived. From that point there was a countdown second by second as we approached our ends. We didn't know it and we didn't care. We didn't give it much thought, but every moment brought us that much closer to the death that will claim us all. No human is immortal, but by and large the concept of death is not one to which we pay much attention, and not one to which we look forward – either hopefully or fearfully.

There are exceptions, of course, but they are exceptions. Suicide is tenth in the causes of death in our country, but even so it amounts to only one in a little over seven thousand of our population annually. Another group, more than seven times as large, includes those living with cancer, and for them (us) the clock's ticking has become more audible. The ultimate outcome will be the same as for everyone else, but what we ignored before now takes up much of our thought. Of course I'm only speaking for myself, but since the first diagnosis was made, every thought of the future is colored by the knowledge that time is going by. We usually don't step back from therapies that may cause improvement, but in the end time will run out.

I have cancer(s). Sooner or later one of them will get me – later, I hope. But I recognize that my “opponent” is only a mechanism. If cancer doesn't do the job, heart disease, or kidney failure, or a hit and run driver, or something else equally dangerous will get me. I'm over seventy-eight years old which exceeds the lifespan anticipated at the time of my birth. I've won, no matter what happens. I'm not sure what the prize is but eventually I'll find out (or, though I've won, I won't). So I'm back to trying not to give it much thought. The results of my efforts, however, vary from time to time.

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Since 1967, the Temple Mount [which is a part of Israel] has often been a flashpoint for violence. On July 14, 2017, two Israeli policemen were murdered by Israeli Arab terrorists at the entrance to the Temple Mount. In response, Israel installed metal detectors Subsequently, Muslim protesters attacked Israeli police trying to maintain order and to ensure the safety of all worshipers. (Myths and Facts – Abraham Bard)

The article also noted “the al-Aqsa Mosque, is used as an arsenal for provocateurs. Most recently, the men who murdered the two Israeli police officers had an accomplice who brought their guns in a backpack onto the Temple Mount and left them in the al-Aqsa Mosque”

Rather than see the metal detectors as a way of protecting Muslims and other visitors to the Temple Mount, Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas and other Muslim leaders condemned Israel. The Jerusalem Wakf [sic] Islamic trust [which has been given permission by Israel to administer the mosque] called on worshipers to refrain from entering the compound until the detectors are removed. (ibid.)

(It is notable that the Vatican, mosques, and other holy sites have security equipment in place.)

Although Israel removed the detectors (detectors like those used in various airports, Yankee Stadium, and numerous other sites), I think it would have been better to leave them as a security measure. If the number of Muslims on the Israeli Temple Mount decreased because of the Waqf's decree – not because Israel forbid them – it would have been even better. But that is not to be. I hope some other form of security – a reliable one – is found.

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My blood creatinine is a little high. If you don't know what that means, it signifies a problem with the kidneys. (At my age that doesn't phase me.) Reading about it on line I have learned that there are many techniques for lowering it, including a reduction in meat intake, increased fluid intake, and a few other means. But these don't affect my kidneys, only the blood test results.

Whom am I kidding if I follow these regimens? Only the people (apart from me) who see the results. And if I receive medical attention I'd rather it were based on accurate numbers rather than tricks. And I love meat.

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But not grist.

July 26, 2017

Various Thoughts X

Thoughts and ideas are swirling around. I know you have yours, but I want to continue to set mine down for your consideration (or disdain). Your views, however they may disagree with what I'm saying, are always welcome. Please include your e-mail address with your comments so I can answer at length if your arguments intrigue me.

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Men were made to compete. So were women (and those who are uncertain about their sex/gender/whatever), although in some instances the “battlefield” is different and involves different subjects. We all want to be the best at whatever is under consideration. Perhaps it's sports, perhaps love, perhaps getting the lowest price for something most in fashion. Some people even argue about who has the worst disease, or who had the most frightful surgery. We even use reflected glory when we argue about our children and grandchildren.

We'll never stop the competition. We all want to be best no matter how sincerely we demand equality for all. Our goal is not to keep up with the Joneses, but to show them up.

How can the competitive fervor of all our citizens be converted into something more productive for society? Can we promote jousts for contributions of time or money? Of course we'd have to establish categories since there isn't equality. Prizes, if only certificates or plaques of honor, might be awarded. It's likely that they, themselves, would be the source of competition, but in the meanwhile society would benefit.

Are there other ways to make the urge to compete productive?

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Some maintain that the universe was created according to the laws of physics (and their origin was … ?). It was, apparently, a random event – fully explainable by natural laws and not requiring any supernatural intervention.

OK. But as unlikely as was such an event, according to this explication of events it could theoretically happen again. What could we expect if there were a new Big Bang in Boise? Would the current universe be eliminated or would there be a new universe centered in Idaho? Or is some other scenario worth consideration?

Give it some thought. It could happen at any time. You never know.

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I want to live forever. Or do I? Most of us see everything as revolving around us. We want to know everything and be part of everything. And if the devil offered us immortality in exchange for souls we've never seen, many would accept. The devil, of course, would keep his word as he always does in this type of deal. Once agreed there would be no turning back. Forever is forever.

The up side is that whoever chose that route would get answers to some of the questions he had. And he'd get a chance to find out what happened to those he loved. We don't get a chance to see the future, but he would.

Suppose, however, that soon after the contract was made there came the onset of severe pain or dementia. In that circumstance, Alzheimer's would be forever, or intractable pain would be eternal. Who would want that? Who would want to outlive the descendants he knew and be a burden on those he didn't know and who didn't know him? Sooner or later – after Medicare ceased to exist – he'd wind up in some charity hospital where those who cared for him didn't care. Forever.

Some might consider eternal pain better than eternal nothingness – if that is their belief about the future. Most, probably, would not. But in either case there would be no turning back. I think I'd opt for death, with a prayer that there is a world to come. Whatever the temptations, I don't think I want to live forever.

And you?

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That's all for now.

June 18, 2017

Some Thoughts

SPOILER ALERT: This essay will deal with the subject of death. If that offends you, depresses you, or is of no interest, now is the time to bail out. No one will know except you.

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You're probably aware by now that I've had surgery for cancer (of the pancreas) but since no evidence of spread was found during the procedure, and all the lymph nodes removed were free of tumor, my doctor is optimistic. So am I. The surgery was six months ago today (irrespective of when you're reading this, “today” is September 15^th, 2016 and I was operated on on March 15^th) and a CT examination I had earlier this week (because of a continued elevation of a particular blood marker) only demonstrated the presence of a fluid collection at the operative site – a not uncommon event – but no evidence of recurrence. In all likelihood that fluid collection, a seroma, was the cause of the blood abnormality. What could be bad? I'm receiving chemotherapy as a “precautionary” measure but there's no particular finding to follow apart from how I feel, which is fine apart from occasional abdominal pains which aren't new. Actually I'm hungry most of the time.

What follows is something I wrote earlier this week. It will serve as a beginning of a description of my thought processes during the past few months.

Feeling pretty good today. The anxiety has worn off and I'm back to my usual (lack of) serenity. Yesterday's I was dying (literally, I thought) but not today. Not “dying” in the sense that a stand-up comedian might suggest – “I was dying out there” – but in a very physical sense. With the rising Ca 19-9 and the increasing abdominal symptoms [probably psychosomatic] I was convinced that there was a recurrence. The reassurance from the CT has eased my mind. There are still some explanations required, but they're relatively insignificant.

I wrote it earlier this week, the day following the CT – the day my doctor read the report to me. Since a couple of weeks prior to my surgery, starting about the time the diagnosis was originally made, I've been keeping a “diary” of my thoughts about the whole affair. (I've also had separate ideas that I haven't recorded and I'll include them as I relate a summary of the maunderings that appear in the diary.) I may even have expounded on some of them before in this series of essays. Who remembers? Indulge me. I'd do the same for you.

Not surprisingly, a lot of the diary is devoted to thoughts about death. It hasn't really mattered whether I was feeling well at the time or whether my symptoms were obvious – death has always been coloring my thoughts (and, from now on, I guess it always will). It's been difficult to consider anything without giving thought to how my death would affect it. That means that I've wondered about the wisdom of buying new things that I can do without if I'm going to die soon; it means that I keep wondering how everything will work out. I'm convinced that my death will mean a complete separation from all my experiences in this world; that if, in some form of “life” after death, I have any cognition, it will be totally unrelated to my life's contents: I won't have any knowledge of the people I knew or the world in which I lived. It will be a totally unrelated phenomenon, one lacking in awareness of this world. It's not all bad, though. I don't recall large parts of my childhood yet I don't suffer from the lack. And if my understanding of the teachings of my heritage is correct, it will be far more glorious than anything I've ever experienced.

But I've spent more time pondering what concerns me more, which is the possibility of eternal nothingness. If that's the case, however, I'll never know it. And that's what probably bothers me more than any other consideration. I'll never know what people said about me at my funeral – for better or for worse. Some, but not all, will be true. Of course it will all be complimentary – you don't speak ill of the dead. At least not in front of a grieving family and other witnesses. But, as I said, I'll never know.

And, I fear, I'll never know what happened with my children, grandchildren, and the generations that followed, nor what happened to my country and the world situation. And I'll be completely ignorant of the fate of my people. But, of course, I won't be aware of that ignorance or of my lack of knowledge of other matters – of anything at all.

And that's the “rub.” I've always wanted to know how things turn out. What happened next. Sleep has never been a threat because I was always confident I'd wake up afterwards. I'm not especially concerned about nightmares since, for the most part, they haven't been a problem. And dreams provided interesting interludes – diverting nocturnes. I didn't always remember their contents, but, when I awoke, I knew that I had had them and enjoyed myself along the way.

“When I awoke.” That was the key. I was sure that I'd wake up. There was a future. So if I missed something while I was sleeping I could always catch up on it when I awoke. But if the scenario of eternal nothingness is correct there will be no catching up. I'll never know, and I'll never know that I don't know. And I won't care. In fact I won't anything.

I'm not afraid of death. I'm aware that I haven't gone through all of Kubler Ross's stages. Denial of course. I'm perpetually in denial. But no anger, bargaining, or depression. Straight through to acceptance. Of course at my age death is always on the horizon so I've come to accept the idea that, sooner or later, it will come. It's normal. Death is a normal part of life. I'm no different from everyone who preceded me. And, after a while, I'll be forgotten by those who knew me. Those who didn't will have nothing to forget.

And I'll never know what happened next.

But Who's Counting?

I'm getting old. I know that. It happens, and there's nothing I can do about it except lie back and enjoy it. Of course I never lie.

I've been thinking about the inevitable for a while now, but also about the time that precedes it – the process of getting older. In fact that's probably the reason I write these essays: to record my thoughts while I can still remember them. Not that anyone really cares apart from me. But it gives me the chance work out my ideas as they come to me, and, fortunately, that process continues.

There's an old joke: The second thing to go is your memory. I can't remember the first.

Actually – sadly – it's not a joke. One of the (many) costs of aging is memory loss – especially short-term memory.ⁱ Fortunately for me since it doesn't seem to be associated with any form of dementia so it's little more than a minor inconvenience. I have pen and paper in my pocket at most times and can note whatever crosses my mind, though there are times when I can't remember what I wanted to say about something I jotted down, or I can't read my own handwriting. That doesn't matter all that much, however, because I have more that I can work with than I can work with. Sooner or later I'll have the same thought that stymied me before and I'll write it down a little differently, and it will make sense when I go over my bits of paper. And, of course, I won't remember that I wrote it before. But who cares?

It's your problem too though. I've probably written all this before and I'm likely to do so again. Ditto with my essays. I know I repeat myself. Since I don't go back, however, it doesn't matter all that much. To me, at least. Even the subjects of my efforts are repetitious, although there are some variations that take place from time to time. For example, politicians are politicians, but they make different stupid errors every now and then, and I'm always eager to write about (someone else's) stupidity. Mostly, though, it's the same old thing. There's nothing new under the sun. (I know I've said that before, and King Solomon said it before me.) The more things remain the same, the more they remain the same. Same with my thoughts. I'm too old to change now.

There are additional costs to aging, but I won't go into them here. TMI. And I'll try to avoid them elsewhere as well. But I do want to mention some of the benefits – though if my (failing) memory serves me right I think I've done so before. 

And there are some positives. I'm loath to reject any offers of senior citizen discounts. But I've gotten to the point of buying (low-priced) items without comparison shopping to find the best price. Nor do I hesitate to throw out what I don't need. I certainly won't need it in the future. If my kids inherit a little less that's OK. They'll understand.

From an intellectual point of view, age brings wisdom – if I remember correctly. Of course the young don't necessarily appreciate that wisdom. Nor do they understand the more realistic views of older people (views which tend to be more conservative than theirs). Like most of the young they tend to be more idealistic and liberal. I know. I used to be an optimist like them. However people have cured me of that Pollyannaish prejudice. I know better now.

But from a more personal angle, I note that people are more solicitous. They're always asking me how I feel. (I suspect that it's simply courtesy, and they don't really care. It's more reasonable to assume they're surprised that I'm still alive.) Every now and then someone offers me a seat on the subway, or a chair when we're in a crowded room. (Unfortunately it's only occasional. It used to be more common. People are less courteous and considerate than when I was young. Respect for elders was more evident then. That I remember.) And, even though it only happens occasionally, someone will offer me help, including carrying something for me. I usually decline (it's called “denial”) but I do notice. In addition, if I leave others to take a nap, it's understood. Or if I leave a party early. I hate parties, so it's a good ploy.

Another advantage is that (apart from death) I have less fear of the future. I can be cantankerous (my usual attitude) or generally disagreeable without anyone fighting back and without anticipating any negative consequences. I can pretend I don't hear when I want to ignore someone. And I can be “too weak” to do what I don't want to do. No one will hold it against me.

And I have memories. Lots of them. My long-term memory remains despite all my complaints. So there are compensations. I'd rather be young, but that's not an option. You play the hand you have.

I   For example, I thought of something this morning that I wanted to “google,” but I can't     remember now what it was. Perhaps I'll think of it later.  I do remember, however, that I promised at some time in the past, to avoid these notes, so there probably won't be any more.  In the meantime, hard cheese.

More

This is part two of a five-part account.  For the full reading please wait until July 13th.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It sounded weird to me too when I heard about it, so I pushed Fred a little harder when I spoke with him. Carl had backed off and “humored” him. So he never got the whole story.

Fred was “dead” for only a few minutes. At least that was the way it seemed in our terms. But when I asked him about the experience, he had an entirely different perception.

“It was just like the way everyone describes it – that is, not really everyone, but the ones who have been through it like me. There was a tunnel and a very bright light at the end. A hand took me and brought me into the light. It was wonderful, but I can't describe it more specifically than that. I know that I was in whatever place it was for a long time, but I'm sure of that only because so much happened. There was no feeling of time passing, so I can't judge it that way.”

I don't pretend that he convinced me. You read stories of “near-death experiences” all the time. They seem to be simply expressions of what people want to believe. They're afraid of death and the “dream” they had during their coma (or whatever it is) serves to provide them with something to believe so that when they awaken they're immunized against that fear for ever after. And that's the way I understood Fred's story. Until he started going into particulars.

“The place was filled with ethereal figures, but it wasn't crowded. The whole thing didn't seem to make much sense. It was,” and he paused for a moment, “kind of like a dream.”

That was what I had assumed. It wasn't real – only repression, regression, or one of those psychological defense mechanisms. Dismissing what he said was easy. At least at the beginning.

“One of the first people – no angels – I met was Bernie.”

I nodded and smiled.

“I know this sounds bizarre, but this is exactly what happened.”

Right.

“Anyway, Bernie introduced me to some of the others, but he was the one whom I found most interesting. He had died a few hundred years earlier. Told me his whole story. Before his heart attack he had been a banker in Germany. Even though I don't know German I understood him completely. No accent. And he understood me too. As a matter of fact everyone understood everyone else. It didn't seem to matter where you came from, or when. In fact he introduced me to some old Egyptian Pharaoh and we had no trouble communicating. He told me all about all the things buried with him and how much he enjoyed them. There were lots of others there too. And they all seemed to be happy.

“I wondered how they kept busy and was fascinated when Bernie told me that most of them were entrepreneurs. He got my attention. The time at Stanford was great, but it hadn't prepared me for this. When I pressed him a little on the subject he said that his work was actually something that I might know a little about. He had long ago perfected 'cloud' technology and 'virtual reality,' and could use the latter to inform earthbound techies about the latter – or anything else for that matter. When the time was right he'd simply 'invade' every computer. He had me.”

Now I was starting to get bizarre ideas.

“The next day ...”

“You were only unconscious for a couple of minutes.”

He ignored me and just continued.

“I found the Pharaoh and asked him a few more questions. I got most of my information from him, but he underlying idea was also based on what I learned from Bernie. And it's Bernie who's implementing it.”

Next episode: “Still More” – In which many questions remain unanswered.

 

You Can Take It With You

This is part one of a five-part account.  For the full reading please wait until July 13th.

 

 

 

A little less than two years ago the grandson of a college friend of mine died. Fredⁱ was a real “whiz.” Like his father who excelled in scientific development, he outdistanced all his peers.ⁱⁱ He was top of his class at Stanford from which he got an MBA, not too long after finishing in the highest five percent of graduates at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where he had majored in computer science while taking several courses in aeronautical engineering as well. He was ready to take on the world when it happened. Whatever it was. That was never quite clear, but, after collapsing at work and being taken by ambulance to the hospital, he was pronounced dead by a doctor at New York–Presbyterian, only to be revived using CPR by a medical student who walked by a moment later and saw him twitch. (A similar event had occurred with his father but he had never talked about it.) The whole incident raises a lot of questions which I'll ignore for now, because it also initiated a situation which is far more interesting.

Let me tell you first a little about Fred. I gave you some of the highlights of his academic background earlier, but I didn't mention enough about the fact that he was a real go-getter. He was determined to be rich,ⁱⁱⁱ and he had decided that the entrepreneurial path was the one for him. His first effort involved aeronautics. He developed computer software that could analyze aircraft function and diagnose and repair potential problems during flight, before they could manifest themselves and threaten the situation. He was in the middle of beta testing when he died, but his program had already attracted a lot of attention in the industry and he appeared to be on the way to achieve his goal of self-earned riches.^iv This was primarily as the result of a single incident in which the software, although it didn't actually fix it, located a problem on a plane in flight that would have been unrecoverable and would have resulted in loss of one of the engines if it hadn't been discovered as early as it was, allowing the pilots to land the airplane safely, if prematurely.

And he “died” prematurely. His apparent demise occurred during the testing phase of the device, but since he didn't actually succumb, it didn't die with him. “A Wing And A Prayer,” the name of the product he was creating, may have been delayed but it made a soft landing. His interest in it, however, seemed somewhat muted after he returned from the hospital and others took it over, though he continued as consultant and advisor on the project. No one else could solve the technical problems as elegantly as he. All he would say when questioned about what seemed to be a loss of interest was “I have other things on my mind.”

Most people attributed his new attitude to a very uncharacteristic obsession with “the meaning of life.” His interests had been very concrete and what they considered the switch from science to philosophy was unexpected. But, after all, he had gone through an experience which is rare – one that no one among his acquaintances could imagine, so none of them challenged what seemed to be a change in personality and a change in focus. The loss to the company of his drive and brilliance was of greater concern to stockholders than to friends. His friends – at least those whom he had not solicited as investors in the aeronautics project – were more worried about his mental and physical health than about computer software.

But they were wrong. Fred felt well – better than he had ever felt – though his mind was on a new project. Those who spoke with him assured me that he was completely “with it.”

Well, that could be debated.

Some of his friends pressed him to talk about his feelings – to tell them what had been going through his mind. They wanted to know what accounted for the change in him. Perhaps they had been reading too much pop-psychology, but talking and hugging seemed to be the answer to all problems. Fred refused the hugging, but he was willing to talk a little. One of them (our mutual friend Carl) related what he had experienced.

“It all results from my conversation with Bernie.”

That's what Fred told him.

“Bernie who?”

A little more questioning from our friend.

“The angel Bernie.^v And his ideas about the OWWW.”

“I don't understand. And it all sounds weird. Tell me more about Bernie.”

Fred was happy to continue.

“He's an angel like all the others. Robe, wings, and all that sort of stuff.”

That was where the discussion ended. Carl was too befuddled to continue.

[More next week.]

Next episode: “More” – I told you. Next week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I       I won't identify him further for legal reasons and privacy, as well as the possibility that he'd like to do his own advertising.

ii       Actually he had no peers.

iii      Rich on his own. Not simply because his father had made a fortune with his own inventions and computer development ideas.

iv       In fact he had already picked out a house in the Bahamas.

v       Yes. That's what he said. You can't make this stuff up.

As Luck Would Have It

I ache. My hands, arms, and shoulders hurt. My back hurts. I'm slower than I used to be. I wake up a lot during the night and need naps during the day. It's my new normal. I'm getting older. And I'm too old to die young.

I'm lucky. I'm getting older. Not everyone is so fortunate. And I do consider it fortunate. As the saying goes, “Consider the alternative.” Although, admittedly, some people would prefer that alternative, it's not for me. That's probably because for all my complaining I'm basically in good health. When I got up this morning (and, in fact, I did get up this morningⁱ), I began the same daily activities as every other day; but I cannot imagine not doing so. The entire concept of death completely eludes me. And, to be perfectly honest, it frightens me. Not that I anticipate punishment, or Hell, or anything like that, but I'll deal with that issue later.

First let me note that I'm still alive. That didn't have to be the case. I survived an airplane accident a little over forty-six years ago. I was learning how to fly at the time (I later got a private pilot's license) and I had really screwed up.ⁱⁱ Fortunately the plane landed upside down in some trees and it never hit the ground.ⁱⁱⁱ There were some broken bones as well as cuts and bruises, and a very injured ego, but I was alive. All I could conclude – apart from the fact that I still had a lot to learn – was that there was something I had been created to do, even if I didn't know what it was. And I hadn't done it yet.

The same lesson was driven home a couple of years ago when I passed out while driving^iv on an interstate. There was the same result as with the plane – the car was totaled but I came out of the experience with little more than embarrassment. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I guess I haven't yet accomplished what's expected of me, and I hope I don't for at least another fifty years or so.^v Maybe forever.

But that's because I find that being old isn't as bad as I expected. The DNA with which I was born has not inflicted any horrible disability on me, and I've not suffered any noticeable diseases secondary to subsequent mutations. Admittedly, the Golden Years aren't what they used to be. When they were far off in the distance they could be seen clearly as a time to kick up your heels with no responsibilities, only leisure time. Now I find that all the duffers curse them. Not me, though. I'm in reasonably good health and all systems are go. (Well, actually, they're not all always go, but I'll omit further discussion of that point.) I have the UFDs^vi and I need larger print and better light when reading. Indeed. The glass is more than half full.

Clearly, there's a lot to say that's positive about the current period of my life. Since I'm retired every day is a day off,^vii and because my hair (what little I have) is white sometimes people offer me a seat (but usually not – times have changed.). I can catch up on the things I put off until retirement, but retirement makes days off meaningless.^viii I can plead physical weakness to get out of work at home. And if I forget something, or claim I forgot, I have an excuse.^ix

On the other hand, there's a down side to the idea that times change. These are (or will be) the “good old days” for today's youth. That's depressing. To think that some of the “music” we hear now will be revered in the future. And it will be even worse then. Gimme a break.

But I've been dancing around the subject long enough. However I may wish to put it off, death will inevitably come. I loudly proclaim my intent to live forever, but I don't take myself any more seriously than those who hear me. They smile, but I doubt that they think any further on the subject. By and large they're younger than I, and they have other concerns at the moment. They'll get around to it in good time.^x

As I noted, I don't fear any particular retribution I might incur because of the acts I've committed. I've done my best to follow the rules, both the secular and the religious ones. I sometimes fail – we all do – but I try. I even wait for the light to turn green before I cross the street. Still I anticipate and I dread what I consider the ultimate destiny. Let me explain.

Like so many before me I've tried to imagine the possible scenarios I face and evaluate them. I'll mention a few. I'm not so arrogant as to believe that there aren't many more, including whatever will actually happen. Many constructs are based on the various cultures and religions of the world. This, however, is the best I can do – and it's not too promising.

First, of course, is the “Family Circus” model – Grandpa, who interacts happily with all the others who have “passed,” is seen standing on the cloud looking down on those he loves – kvelling^xi over their accomplishments. Everything is divine. “He” (actually all the dead) continues in his awareness of all that's happening to those he knows and loves.^xii,xiii But with family life here in such disarray, it's not clear where his attention will be turned. And if life wasn't so great, it's similarly questionable whether he'll derive any pleasure at all from the experience.

Perhaps we'll be involved in the Heaven/Hell, reward/punishment script. It's somewhat more complex than that of “Family Circus” but sort of related. It may require the listing of our virtues and sins, and review by a heavenly court. In the end, there will be judgment of each of us with a fate based on the balance of our acts. Our focus will be on what happens to us. As we enjoy/endure the world to come, we'll have no interest in the world we left.

In the reward/punishment scheme, my religion, Judaism, posits that the worthy ones will sit in paradise and learn with the sages of the past. Learning is the ultimate reward, and it brings us closer to G-d. Still, this model has problems. Learning is an occupation of men, and I don't know what would represent paradise for women. Or for those who died in infancy or childhood before establishing enough of a record on which to be judged. Perhaps they contain “recycled” souls, and they'll be judged on actions during one or more of their previous incarnations.^xiv Who knows?

The most frightening of all the ideas is the most straightforward. Death is the end. “That's all there is. There isn't any more.”^xv It's eternal nothingness. When you say “goodbye” to everyone it's really goodbye.^xvi That's the scientific answer. It's all over and you never know it.

With that in mind, I think I'll go back to my plan to live forever. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to achieve it. I think there's still something I have to do. I just don't know what it is.

Next episode: “Niggers Ain't So Bad" -- There's got to be a better way to say it.

I       At least that's the case at the time of this writing.

ii       The silver lining was that I was alone, so no one witnessed my fall from grace and no one was injured by my incompetence.

iii      Nonetheless it was totaled, even if I wasn't.

iv       Extensive medical tests afterward demonstrated no problem. I can only conclude that I fell asleep while driving, even though I wasn't tired. In any event, I have driven a lot since with no incident.

v        Even though I don't know what that is.

vi      Usual Fogey Diseases. When I was young all us kids had the “usual childhood diseases” – measles, mumps, chicken pox, etc. (in truth, I didn't have chicken pox until my early twenties). They were, simply, what was expected. Indeed, parents intentionally had their children exposed to them in order to take the guesswork out of illness.

vii       Of course that means that I don't get vacations, but I have plenty of time to nap.

viii      But I can shoot my mouth off. No consequences and no fear. No one can fire me and, thank G-d, my wife loves me.

ix       And, when it serves my purposes, I can plead poverty and a speak of the limitations of a fixed income.

x        Or, perhaps, as Sir Humphrey Appleby in “Yes, Minister” put it, “In the fullness of time.” That was his way of saying “Never.”

xi        I'm not sure the word is ethnically appropriate, but it's the most descriptive I can imagine.

xii     An extended version would have him aware of everything happening everywhere. The media in paradise would be much more complete and objective than the ones we have here.

xiii     There's a problem, however, with this view and some of the others. Tradition teaches us that we won't know each other. So we won't know our friends and family – whether they're alive or dead. We won't be looking down on them, and we'll be unaware of when they're looking up at us. How we'll recognize the sages with whom we learn I'm not certain (v.i.).

xiv    The concept of multiple incarnations of individual souls brings added complexity to the “Family Circus” idea. If the souls have been around several times, in whom will they be interested as they watch from their cloud? And with whom will they cavort up there?

xv       That was a line in the play “Sunday” (1904-1905), said by Ethel Barrymore. She also used it to end curtain calls.

xvi      Of course that's true with some of the other models as well.