SMILE & SAY THANK YOU

Today is the day after my tribe gathered to help me celebrate my eighty five (that would be 85 years) of breathing in, breathing out, waking up every day, falling asleep, of just being. People say, “It’s only a number” but it’s more than that. Eighty five years back to back hold more stories than one might care to remember. Over the past five years I’ve weighed and measured the front end of my 80’s decade, knowing all along that what matters most is good health and loved ones. It is my good fortune, thankfully, to have both. 

I am an old hand at adding my kudos to other expressions of appreciation and respect.  Someone, usually an old-one but certainly an esteemed-one will be singled out for recognition. This time it was me. Never been good at handling complements, they always left me reaching for the right response. Then with my storytelling, woodwork and photographs I learned a good lesson: “Just smile and say Thank You.” That is the perfect response to any complement. Odds are they weren’t after a speech. If it feels less than adequate, after a short pause you can repeat yourself, “Thank You.” again. 

So our party started slow but the food was really good and people kept coming through the door. I kept busy talking to friends and family, thanking them for coming out on a hot August afternoon. A friend acted as master of ceremonies, called the meeting to order and started talking about my backstory. He started calling on people in the audience to fill in the blanks and I felt like the bull calf at the county fair, being paraded in front of the judges. But I don’t get to choose how I feel, just how I behave. Everybody wants the same thing; to enjoy good company, a good story, break bread together and to be nice. I was the catalyst. After all, they can’t all be wrong so I must’ve done something good. I had time to reflect on my tribe. We are super-social animals and we need each other. Everyone should, sooner or later, trust the tribe to love and forgive them, to do the dance, be the reason to celebrate. 

It occurred to me how much this life is like a lemon. Whatever it is that you want from the lemon you have to do something with it (the lemon). One of my boys loved lemons, he still does. At 7 or 8 with great stealth he slipped fresh lemons into the grocery basket. He would poke a hole and suck it dry, face wrinkled up in a lip smacking pucker, funny to watch. He knew if he wanted to absolutely drain the lemon he had to squeeze it and keep squeezing for the last few drops would not come easily. The idea’s application doesn’t need an explanation; keep squeezing the lemon. Numbers are necessary but nothing about me would change if we counted by 2’s. One hundred seventy years would be just another age or number and my party would have been a great adventure by any number. But the transition from beginning to the present moment is from one lemon to the next, and the next. It was near the end of my teaching career I realized I had to reinvent myself; I wanted more from the next lemon than I had squeezed out of the one before. I’m still squeezing this life for all I can get. Every day is a new day and I want my face to be wrinkled up and puckered at day’s end. 

There are still strange places I want to see and places I want to go back again but what keeps me squeezing the life out of every day is neither a new experience nor a distant landscape. I catch myself sharing my secret for a good life; to always wear the hat you want to be remembered by. You never know who is watching you, who is paying attention; and nobody, none of us knows the number of our days. Wear the hat you want to be associated with and treat each day as if it were the only day. My party was a grand coming together of like minded people and I take great comfort in such good company.