Anniversaries and the Implications of Time

Recently a friend of mine from the old country, Nebraska, became my friend of Facebook. I am not sure if this makes him an old friend, a new friend, or some sort of hybrid, a rediscovered friend. Internet networking sites have altered the meaning of things. I could write a book about the way that bothers me, but I will spare you, dear reader.

Anyway, we are friends, again. A short time ago he posted a photo of his wedding day. A day that happened thirty five years ago and he was preparing to celebrate the occasion.

I was dumbfounded. For one thing it forced me to realize that I am getting old. I forget to remember how age is creeping up on me. Even on days when things ache so bad it is a toss-up which leg to limp on. Secondly, I couldn’t believe how long it had been since we had last talked, more than thirty five years. I didn’t know he was married, I didn’t even know he was seeing anybody. I didn’t even know he was alive.

Then it struck me, thirty five years is a long time, an impressively long time. But, it isn’t the years. It is the minutes that make a marriage, any relationship. Those brief instances where love is built, reinforced, transformed from the lusty, irrepressible, hedonistic early days to the comfort of soft sighs and gentle embraces. When holding hands is enough to make you believe in heaven.

All of those seconds when you laughed at private jokes that nobody else understood. And if they did they wouldn’t have been nearly so amused. Couples, possibly in self-defense start to assimilate characteristics from each other. Shared feelings are the bonds that last forever.

Times when you are so sick you think you might die. Lying in bed, dozing in and out of sweaty, restless sleep. Then, an angel wakes you, presses a cold cloth on your fevered, pasty forehead and gives you a glass of ice-cold green Kool-aid. It may have been the only thing that kept you from going to the light. Or when she has the flu so bad she is helpless and all she wants to eat is macaroni and cheese. The cheap kind, so you stop every night on the way home and buy a box, cook it up, and serve it to her on the couch. Gently you help her back to bed. Kiss her cheek and pray that she outlives you.

Marriages are built around those times, seconds of pain and fear. Flashes of happiness so blinding they seem impossible. And those seconds that take hours. Those times you are so mad you could just walk away, never look back. Anger and loathing cloud your vision, you lash out, and she lashes out, and you think “if I never see you again it will be too soon.” But, you don’t give up because you know the term my better half is not just a meaningless cliché. It is the truth.  Those minutes, interminable, terrible, regrettable, make a relationship stronger, because afterwards love heals the wounds, and the scars serve to remind of the pain caused by emotions so strong.

So, I salute your thirty five years, we are still rookies, only twenty eight, and I applaud your time management skills. You are both shining examples of the possibilities. And I am grateful. 

One post doing double duty, man a guy could get used to this.

I don't normally do this, but I feel strongly about smoking, more accurately, not smoking. I quit four years ago in July, so every year I have at least one post about quitting.  And, I go back to the About.com forum where I received a lot of support, and made some great friends, and write what they call a"milestone post." Since I have not done anything here, yet, and this post was featured by the moderator, I thought I would just put it here.  Saves a lot of typing, you know

Four years ago today (actually, it was yesterday) was the last cigarette. It was a lonely feeling at the time, a little scary, and clouded with uncertainty. I liked smoking, people are going to say I didn't, it was just an illusion caused by the addiction, ok, but it felt like I liked smoking. Heck, I looked cool smoking, ok I probably looked almost as stupid as I was, but smoking was the dumbest thing I ever did and it would be awful to look that stupid.  Whatever the case, I quit, and it was the smartest thing I ever did, my doctor said it was the best health care decision a person could make. He was right.

Today, I feel too good to be this old. Happy, cheerful, free, and healthy, and it started with a decision to quit smoking. Making the decision was easy, following through could be tough at times, but every day got easier, every week was a victory. And they piled up, faster and faster. Soon it was a year, a year without a cigarette, wow! That was amazing. Who knew it was even possible?

It is liberating being an ex smoker, no more stopping to buy a pack, no more making sure there is a lighter handy, no more washing up in an attempt to cover the odor. Life is simpler, and better. I work downtown in a medium sized midwestern city, and walk around after eating lunch, and the little clusters of smokers, huddled together, outposts against the coming sanity, brings feelings of sympathy (for them) and pride (for me).

There are so many problems with smoking, least of which is the ridiculous expense. A person could probably fund a presidential campaign on the money spent smoking. It is a hideously expensive, and that is the least of the problems. Smoking kills people, slowly, insidiously, painfully, humiliating them, bankrupting them, destroying them. And I did this by choice?! 

My Mother quit when she was 85 years old, her doctor told her she had to, or it was going to take her vision. After many years, I don't even know how many, she quit. She carped, and complained, and griped, but it was a source of great pride, that she managed to quit, at 85. But, she had no idea, nor did I, that smoking is terrible for your eyes. 85 years old, smoked most of her life, and she quit, so can you, and you should. An interesting anecdote, my mom was kind of a handful and made my younger sister promise to tell everyone she died prematurely (if that is possible at 91) because they made her quit smoking.

I exercise, real exercise, three times a week, at the gym, treadmills, elliptical machines, weights, resistance training, real exercise, and I feel great. Better than I have in years. Happier, healthier, nicer to people, a little wealthier, and all because I quit smoking.

Think about it, quitting smoking will help you see better, live longer, feel happier, and have a little more money. Yes. there are moments of difficulty, temptation, even longing, but they pass. There is an old saying in the fitness world (imagine that, me in the fitness world) "If the question is not hunger food is not the answer." What question could possibly have the answer "smoking a cigarette." 

Here is a song about freedom, it is old so some of the imagery is a little dated, and it might not be exactly appropriate for freedom from smoking, but these guys are cool, and I am sure would be very happy to help you quit. Besides, no matter what the question, "Rock and Roll," is always a good answer.

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Don't smoke, don't even think about it.