That was Then...This is Now

In less than a week we’ll hit the mid-point of August, at which time some among us will begin to bemoan the fact that most if not all the Halloween candy has already been snatched up, by those more industrious than we, the contented, still living in the heat and humidity of "now".

Hopefully, they'll leave some Snickers.

I admit I used to be amongst the “amongiest of us” lamenting in the EZ-Pass lane of summer’s highway.

I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but it sounded good, so I left it in.

Z and I would only just be depositing our tomato plants, along with the rest of our spring flowers into our pre-Memorial day, barely defrosted gardens, when I would begin to fret the soon to be hasty arrival of 4th of July, which was most certain to jettison us straight into August....

And hey, don’t those Snickers bars stacked alongside the Scare Crows and candy corn look tasty.

Maybe I should check out my Christmas lights, too, while there’s still time to pick up replacements before they sell out, as well.

But that was then... this is now.

I don’t say that anymore.

Unless, I forget I’ve already consumed my allotted two Gin & Tonics and breeze right onto my fourth...by mistake.

Then there’s no telling what will come out of my mouth.

But, not to worry; I usually don’t remember much of it anyway...at least until I get all the e-mails, the next day.

No, now, maybe because I’m closing in on the mid-point of my “sexy sixties” I’ve adopted more of a “Why worry about tomorrow, when I can barely remember what I had for lunch...or if I even had lunch” kind of approach to life.

I’m kidding...my memory’s just fine.

I always know what and if I had lunch by the rotating stains on my shirt.  

Today I had hot dogs...I think...or maybe ham....possibly boloney.

Or is that mustard from yesterday?

Or is that even mustard?

Not important.

What is important is remembering where you’re shoes are in the morning and knowing what feet they belong on....

Once you’ve accomplished that, you know it’s going to be a good day.

Unless of course,  the shoes belong to someone else, in which case you’re whole morning’s shot, straightening out that whole mess.

But, the plus side is you’re so distracted wondering why you ever thought you could pull off patent leather, you don’t have time to worry about future events, still weeks, if not months, away.

Which is what I used to do, when I was in my 20s and 30s...even my 40’s.

Ahhh...youth, a time for imagining a future stretched out into a galaxy far, far away. 

Youth thinks, “What difference does it make if I blow away today after today, worrying about all those tomorrows that lay ahead. Today is always going to turn into tomorrow and tomorrow the tomorrow after that. As sure as I’m standing here counting all these chickens.”

And, if youth is lucky, they do.

And if youth is really, really lucky it’ll experience a bounty of tomorrows, with or without the chickens, most likely wishing it were still dwelling in the decade before...you know, the one it last dreaded, just like the one it dreaded before joining that.

That’s just how youth is; impatient, never satisfied.

Now is never enough, for youth; not as it is.

Youth misses out on today’s “now” because it’s always wondering if the next “now” will be as good as the current “now”. Sure, youth wants a new “now”, but also a bigger and better “now”...longer lasting, better tasting and available in handy travel packs so it’ll never be without.

And it wants it...you know... “now”!

It’s a recurrent theme of mine, mostly because I’ve struggled with it most of my life and have to keep reminding myself not to fall back into that hole...like the time the plumbers put in the new water line out front.

Enthusiasm for the future is the fuel on which youth thrives.

Yet, eventually, the race of time takes its toll, even on youth

Soon, youth can’t take its eye off all those tomorrows encroaching on today, hastily transforming into all those yesterdays.

Until one day youth wonders …“How the hell did I get so old...and where did I put my shoes....?

Don’t get me wrong, at 64, it’s not as if I feel the best of my todays and tomorrows are behind me.

Far from it.

I’m still looking forward to the future when we all get those flying cars and stretchy high collar suits from the George Jetson collection.

In fact I’m kind of thinking there’s at least another 64 years of tomorrows ahead of me.

Okay...maybe that’s a tad delusional. 

But I’ll settle for another 60 and call the other four a jump ball.

I mean ya gotta be realistic.

And the best part of standing a little higher up on the ladder, is finally understanding...one day, one season, one year is no better or worse than the next.

It just “is”...and as long as we “is”, too...enjoy the day...even the crappy ones.

And that’s just what I’m gonna try and do, right now.

Maybe even have some lunch.

Or did I already have lunch?

And why can’t a fella wear a nice pair of patent leathers on a summer day?

Stick on a pair of taps and click all your cares away.....

So what if Labor Day weekend is only three weeks away?

Wait...what?

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