The calendar measures years. The heart measures summers.
No memory is as vivid as the one that can never be relived.
Blistering summer heat cools even the strongest urge to go outside.
The ocean washes more than the shore.
Young love kindled at summer solstice often fades at first frost.
February crawls. August flies.
Hearts anchored in love never drift from safe harbors.
Forbidden pleasure is the most tempting and often the least rewarding.
Our sweetest memories often come with a silent soundtrack playing in the recesses of our minds.
Most people have two versions of their life story: the carefully edited one they share with others and the unfiltered one they revisit in solitude.
One can feel lonely even in the heart of a crowd.
To dampen a compliment for an older man, give the praise—then add, ‘for a man your age.“
In old age, memories of the past bring more joy than dreams of the future.
Life is a game of dodgeball—we duck illness, misfortune, and loss. But sooner or later, we can’t dodge the final throw: death.
I first read this book in 2012 when I was 60 years old. It had a profound effect on me then. My fears of getting older were starting. Reading this book at 72, I have a new appreciation for Auster’s messaging on aging, death and memories. The tale is sobering, not depressing. Auster had an interesting story to tell about his life’s experiences.
“Winter Journal” is a deeply personal memoir published in 2012, written when Auster was 64 years old. Auster begins by documenting his bodily sensations and physical experiences, starting with a detailed account of his mother’s death and moving through various moments of his life. He explores personal traumas, near-death experiences, and significant physical memories that have shaped his understanding of himself.
The memoir covers several key themes: mortality, aging, memory, and personal history.
List of my favorite excerpts below:
Your bare feet on the cold floor as you climb out of bed and walk to the window. You are 64 years old. Outside, the air is gray, almost white, with no sun visible. You ask yourself: How many mornings are left?
Nevertheless, there are things that you miss from the old days, even if you have no desire to see those days return. The ring of the old telephones, the clacking of typewriters, milk and bottles, baseball without designated hitters, vinyl records, galoshes, stockings, and garter belts, black and white movies, heavyweight champions,… basketball before the three-point shot, contempt for authority.
Your birthday has come and gone. 64 years old now, inching ever closer to senior citizenship, to the days of Medicare and Social Security benefits, to a time when more and more of your friends will have left you. So many of them are gone already – –but just wait for the deluge that is coming.
That is why you will never forget these words, which were the last words spoken to one of your friends by his dying father: “Just remember, Charlie, “he said “never pass up an opportunity to piss.” And so the wisdom of the ages is handed down from one generation to the next.
Joubert: The end of life is bitter. Less than a year after writing those words, at the age of 61, which must’ve seemed considerably older in 1815 then it does today, he jotted down a different and far more challenging formulation about the end of life: One must die, lovable (if one can.)
I hear voices from my past from many people who are no longer alive. They walk along side me and we share memories and words from years and many decades ago. I remember their faces, their smiles and I feel their love as I take my final steps on my earthly journey.
I have celebrated 70 New Years Days. I have outgrown resolutions as most of them were simply wishful thinking on my part. It’s a bit of a somber day as I reflect upon family members, friends, acquaintances and places that no longer exist. I wonder how many “Time Square Ball Drops” are left in my life?
This was a somber New Year’s Day for most of the people in the United States. Omicron limited travel, family reunions, parties, hugs and handshakes. The celebrations and crowds at Times Square last night were very subdued. Hopefully next year life will return to a more routine existence. Maybe this can be a resolution for the CDC and other government agencies?
I remember looking forward to the football bowl games on New Year’s Day. The Orange, Rose and Sugar Bowls had the best games with the best competition. Bowl competition today has been severely diluted. Even a Rutgers team with a 5-7 record managed to play in a bowl game, though they were a substitute for a more qualified team that was going through Covid.
It’s time to get rid of the ice or Gatorade baths that winning coaches suffer at the end of games.
No one seems to get excited about the Mummers parade in Philadelphia or the Tournament of Roses Parade any more. When I was a young kid, I remember fighting with my mom at not being able to watch football as she chose to watch the parades. Of course this was a time (1960s) when most families only had one television.
Betty White passed away yesterday at age 99. She was a very skillful comedienne who was also very attractive. Comediennes currently who combine talent for humor and great looks include Aisley Bea, Tina Fey, Cecily Strong, Amy Poehler, Kristen Wiig, Katherine Ryan and Kate McKinnon.
A lot of prognosticators and people with crystal balls thought the 2021 was going to be a much better year than 2020. They were disappointed. Covid did not go away. People continued to die and be hospitalized with the pandemic. Despite a new president, the political divide got worse. While the stock market did very well, most of the country suffered from inflated prices from houses, cars, gasoline, clothes and in particular, food. I think it’s more prudent to hope than predict future events for 2022.
Feeling wistful, ruminative and a bit thankful…
If life is a train ride, my station may be coming up soon. Regrettably most of us don’t know when our ride will end. A few friends and family members have disembarked too early, leaving me sitting sadly alone in the train car.
All of us have an “aha” or life changing moment. Mine occurred on the morning of February 14, 1960 when I was told about my father’s sudden death. At age 7, I learned about impermanence, self reliance and responsibility. Some people never receive those insights no matter their age.
I have not measured my life’s success based on my net worth, corporate executive titles or possessions I owned. Simply I wanted to be the best husband, son, brother, uncle and friend I could be. Largely that meant I needed to be “present” when someone needed help or encouragement.
My 44 years of marriage to a wonderful woman represents the best decision and greatest commitment of my life. The joy and love from this woman more than offset any disappointments, failures, and travails I have experienced. Life does not always offer an easy road but I am grateful for my constant and supportive companion.
Some of my life’s biggest disappointments, socially and in business, were as a result of women. This is not an indictment of women as much it shows my lowered expectations of the words, promises and actions of my brother man.
Coincidentally, but not surprising, my biggest supporters and influencers, in my youth, were women. Besides my wife Chris, my sister Sandra was a source of encouragement, love and motivation. Sandra’s death twenty seven years ago is my greatest personal loss.
Two biggest trends in my lifetime: (1) the explosion, breadth and advancement of technology in business and personal life and (2) the disintegration, coarseness and division of our politics and civility.
I have no heirs but I am sad about the type of world that my generation is leaving to those generations behind us. We’ve left them problems with government debt, climate change, rebuilding infrastructure, improving public education etc. Those are issues that we should have been focusing on instead of building walls, creating conspiracy theories and disputing fair elections.
I was looking at some pictures of birthday parties for me or cousins when I was 6 or 7. The black and white pictures were a bit faded, many of my family in the photo are deceased but the memories remain. Was there anything more exciting for a young boy or girl than to look forward to a birthday party with friends and family?
The basic evidence of humanity among people is simply sharing a smile.
I’ve lived 25,202 days. That’s a lot of opportunities to appreciate sunsets, sunrises, great conversations, varied travel experiences, meet new friends, and make social and business contributions. Success and appreciation of life are often measured by how close our results = opportunities.
Sign of the Times: We need a Facebook prompt to remember and celebrate a friend or relative’s birthday.
Why is it that despite much improved personal training and sports medicine that today’s pitchers can’t go beyond five innings and basketball players can only play half a season?
Sifting through old memories like a camper brushing aside dying embers seeking a spark
Where once there was warmth and comfort, has now grown cold and dark
Had the fire died from neglect, unattended? Had I failed to keep the fire’s glow?
Or had you simply moved on—and decided it was time to go?
A fire once blazed warmly fueled by logs of talk, laughter and caring
Pleasant memories of company, fun, concern and sharing
Now the flames are extinguished, a mist of thin smoke rising faintly from the ash
Mournful reminder of the flame that burned in the past.
Some additional Pensées on the art of aging and other ruminations…Earlier Pensées found here…
The best thing that we can receive are not presents, but simply “presence”.
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While I sadly accept the fate of lost friendships by death, I continually mourn lost friends due to distance, dispute or their disinterest.
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Young broken hearts quickly recover; older hearts rarely…
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Memory is a funny thing. It vividly remembers the wink of an eye from a pretty girl 50 years ago but can’t remember what it had for lunch yesterday.
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In every real man, a child is hidden who…misses the comfort of hugs and reassurances of parents, siblings, relatives and friends no longer alive.
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As a young child, I treasured a pocket watch as my timepiece, today I just treasure peaceful time.
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One may try so hard to be liked by everyone that one can forget to take the time to like themselves.
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The average older guy’s daily wardrobe often can fit into the locker he had in high school.
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30 minutes of personal or phone conversation > dozens of text and Facebook messages
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On long solo walks, I find myself rarely traveling alone…
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40+years of marriage: Life accomplishment = .400 batting average: baseball. Both achievements deserve recognition in their respective Hall of Fames.
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Linus has his security blanket; older Americans, nostalgia.
At 68 years of age, while I appreciate all the technological and other wonders that I have and am experiencing, I do wax nostalgic at times of things that I miss like those listed below:
Major league pitchers who throw complete games
Basketball players who don’t take games off
Two way football players who play offense and defense
News that only comes on between 6:30 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. No breaking news every commercial break
Civil political discussion shows like Firing Line with William F. Buckley
Women without tattoos or nose rings
Swanson TV dinners
Quality local newspapers and local community reporting
Competitive heavyweight boxing
Cuff links
Pocket watches
The convenience of transistor radios
Gino Giants
Bosco
Wall St Week with Louis Rukeyser
Phillies Hot Pants Patrol
GE College Bowl
Comic books
Vaughn Meader
Big 5 Basketball doubleheaders at The Palestra
Doctors who made house calls
Calls to businesses answered by a person
People shaking hands
About 50 years ago on a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon in June, I and about 480 classmates graduated from Camden Catholic High School. I don’t remember too much about the ceremony itself, I do recall feeling a bit anxious, excited and fearful as to what was coming next. It was not an easy time in our country. We were experiencing demonstrations and riots about civil rights as well as the Vietnam War. Students were shot at Kent State by National Guardsmen the month before. There were verbal and physical clashes between conservatives and liberals and there was a very unpopular Republican president. We had to deal with a lot of social and political turmoil. Some things never change, I guess…
So after 50 years, a few reminiscences…
Most of my memories at CCHS are pleasant. I enjoyed classes with Mr. Azores, Mr. D’Antonio, Mr. Budniak, Father Yorio, Sister Agnese, Mr. McDonald, Sister Victorine etc. I even survived a Latin class with Sister Wilfred. I also survived some good natured barbs from Mr. D’Antonio. I believed I got a very good education from CCHS.
I remember demerit cards, Father Rock, pep rallies, small lockers, Sadie Hawkins day (I never got picked) pizza in the cafeteria, Kathy Hennessey as my lab partner (RIP), The Paper, Kreskin show, Communication Arts, pink, green and yellow women uniforms based on graduation year, music appreciation class, Farnham Park, “River rats’, gymnastics exercises during gym classes, building of a baseball field in the back of the parking lot, excellent school plays…
I vaguely remember that our class was sometimes referred by some teachers as the “most ill behaved ever.” Due to some prank or mischief, we had to sit quietly in the school auditorium for a few hours reputedly perpetuated by a member of our class. We did enjoy a class where there were various personalities, temperaments and characters.
My most influential and favorite teacher was Father Walsh (Quince). Initially I rebelled at many of his views and I often challenged him and several classmates who shared his thinking. He was relatively patient with “Brother Burleigh” and welcomed our verbal jousts on topics including Vietnam, religion, politics, history, philosophy, justice and morality. Quince got me to think more critically and analytically. He was the epitome of a great teacher, one who inspires you for further learning.
I maintained and made a number of friendships at CCHS. Bob Chrzanowski has been a friend of mine since we were both 6 year olds from the mean streets of South Camden. Bob has retired and is enjoying his addiction to golf. Mike Mensinger and I have been friends for over 50 years. I was pleased to be the best man at his wedding. Mike and I had a “cut” contest (missing class) during our senior year at Rutgers. Surprisingly we both graduated. I don’t see Mike as much as I would like but I am attempting to perform a “political exorcism” online currently. I’m blessed to have Bob and Joyce Leonetti as friends. When my wife Chris was going through breast cancer, they were very supportive to the both of us. Bob had rented a bus for the Breast Cancer walk in Philadelphia years ago, which meant a great deal to Chris. Bob and Joyce have a number of charitable contributions. They epitomize the best from our class. Bob was also my “go to” receiver when we played touch football in our youth.
I did not know Kathy Murphy, now Caldwell though we had graduated St Pete’s, CCHS and Rutgers together. My friend Ken (graduate of some defunct high school in Willingboro) had the great fortune and judgment to meet and marry her and I benefitted greatly from having her in my life also through Ken. Kathy is a great wife and mother of three very smart children and seven grandchildren. Kathy is a great friend, confidant and support for me. Kathy’s husband Ken has often expressed his disappointment that he did not attend CCHS.
I am pleased when I hear how many of my fellow classmates have done well in academia, business, government service, writing, the arts and charitable work. Two of my classmates have inspired me lately. Joe Mussomeli has inspired me to write. I have read some of Joe’s published essays and columns on politics and other topics and they are excellent. Jean Riberio Lizzio is my inspiration for health and athletics. Jean is an accomplished triathlete and maybe our class’s best athlete, male and female. What she has been able to accomplish in running and competition at this time in our lives when a walk around the block is sufficient exercise for many of us is remarkable.
I have been able to catch up with Jean and Donna Segrest Aristone at the mini reunions that have been held at Dooney’s. (I am prejudiced but I always thought that the young girls I graduated with at St Pete’s were the most attractive and nicest women at CCHS and beyond.) I also enjoy seeing Dorina and John Szczepanski, Patty Corbett, Bud Crane, Bill Foster and Rick Caruso at these mini reunions.
I am sorry that we did not have the 50th reunion as I would have liked to say hello and catch up with those I share comments and likes on Facebook including Rick Boyle, Sandi Weisel, and Ginger Breen.
Happy 50th Graduation!
P.S. I can remember the first two verses of our Alma Mater. I can’t remember what I had for dinner yesterday.
P.P.S. I am also mindful of classmates who have passed away. Most I did not know well. I do have some good memories (and stories) of Joe Williams, a great guy. Kathy Hennessey was my Chem lab partner and a very personable young lady.
Esot-eric 