When I started this blog it was to be an opportunity to reexamine the memoir I am trying to write as a legacy for my children. It is intended to be a brief history of my side of the Morris family along with a few of the experiences that gave meaning and substance to my life in the hope the memoir will do the same to theirs. The idea of passing on to the next generation a bit of the past, especially my own began in 2001, the beginning of the "Age of Aquarius".
It was the beginning of a new millennium and my life. I had just retired and faced a future for which I was unprepared and knew nothing about. This is an event that every individual must someday have to face.Perhaps it will be with joy and excitement and not with confusion and delusion. Retirement is unique because it must be lived to be understood. And that makes each day special, an adventure to be anticipated and embraced.
Two thousand one (2001) was also the Chinese year of the Snake an ancient symbol of knowledge and wisdom. It was believed by many to be the beginning of the promised thousand years of peace. However looking at the conditions that existed in the world at the time this did not seem to be the remotest realm of possibility.
But we are an optimistic people and we still believe in miracles. This memoir if it is ever finished might be one of them. I hope so for my peace of mind and my children and grandchildren legacy.
In writing this blog I will included a few comments concerning several very special people who were very important to me in one way or another. The first is very grand old lady, the mother of a high school classmate, Albert Metcalfe. Their kindness to me during my junior and senior years in high school cannot be measured with thanks but in recognition. So if the immortality of an individual exist as long as they are remembered by at least one individual then Albert and Mrs. M. will have achieved that status as long as this memoir and my family history continues to exist. In time the how and how will be mentioned. But it is necessary to close this segment for the moment in order to take my grandson to his hip-hop class. Later.
Saturday, 3 August 2013
Tuesday, 30 July 2013
Today is Monday at times the most confusing day of the week. It can be a joyful occasion or a dismal prospect for a number of reasons. Monday's were at one time the connecting link between my two families, the one at home and the one at work. There were times when it was hard to determined which was more important, the quality time I spent with one or the necessary time I spent with the other in order to fulfill the necessary needs of both. There were many times when the needs of one would override the needs of the other. The conflicts generated by the individual needs of both were eliminated when I retired. Reduced to a one family obligation I no longer have that problem. Monday's are now just another day on the calendar.
My family is scattered across the land and just the wife left behind. Over the years we have become so compatible with each other that there is to need to speak. It is as if we are able to communicate by telepathy. While this is a nice comfortable relationship and has reduced the stress of a once workaholic week it does nothing to filling the boring extension of time between sunrise and sunset. There is a need and a compulsion to occupied the emptiness created by that retirement. Thus this blog, my memoirs and on occasions a random thought or two to share with those who take the time to read what I do diligently try to write as day by day I bring something worthwhile to my golden years.
My family is scattered across the land and just the wife left behind. Over the years we have become so compatible with each other that there is to need to speak. It is as if we are able to communicate by telepathy. While this is a nice comfortable relationship and has reduced the stress of a once workaholic week it does nothing to filling the boring extension of time between sunrise and sunset. There is a need and a compulsion to occupied the emptiness created by that retirement. Thus this blog, my memoirs and on occasions a random thought or two to share with those who take the time to read what I do diligently try to write as day by day I bring something worthwhile to my golden years.
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
In his masterpiece "The Prophet" Kahlil Gibran wrote "Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears."
During my pilgrimage from birth to death I have laughed and cried as both joy and sadness stood by my side one at the head of the bed while the other waited at the foot ready to take its place. In life it is often difficult to determine where one emotion begins and the other ends. Many times they become intermingled and in the confusion create mental, physical, emotional and spiritual pain. When my Dad and Grandmother died from cancer there was both a sense of sadness but also a moment of joy because they no longer had to suffer the pain of their affliction. Trying to resolve the conflict we experience at those moments off times create a minor dilemma.
I am now experiencing such a moment. There is a joy within me as I enter my retirement and a sense of sadness in my complete lack of preparation for the event. This situation was created by my lack of foresight because I was too busy enjoying what was rather than preparing for what was to be.
Today is another day in the valley of the sun. The monsoons have arrived. First there are the winds, gigantic sandstorms that stretch from horizon to horizon rising several hundred in the air. Behind them are the hundreds of lighting strikes, thunderclouds and the much need rain for the valley. The temperature drops the air is purified and I sit in my car port sipping my coffee and watching it come down. When it stops it is time to return to the more mundane aspects of my life.
I am trying to records a few of my more memorable moments and events in a memoir I intend to give to my children as a Christmas present. Once inside and t my computer I begin the journey back to a time when I wandered haphazardly through life and played the game. I sowed my seed and in time reaped what I had sowed. That harvest is in essence the summation of my life. It is the foundation of who and what I am today, a decrepit old egotistical cynic sitting in a rocker watching his children grow waiting for the knock on the door with an invitation I will not be able to refuse.
The waiting is not all bad. It allows me to reminisce and relive the past. In so doing I am pleased with what I see. My harvest is not a treasure stored in heaven but one that I was fortunate enough to accumulate here on earth. That treasure is my children who will help fill my Golden Years with an overflowing of love and blessings until it is time for my final metamorphosis, the next and final existence, the Pearly Gates of the fiery furnace.
During my pilgrimage from birth to death I have laughed and cried as both joy and sadness stood by my side one at the head of the bed while the other waited at the foot ready to take its place. In life it is often difficult to determine where one emotion begins and the other ends. Many times they become intermingled and in the confusion create mental, physical, emotional and spiritual pain. When my Dad and Grandmother died from cancer there was both a sense of sadness but also a moment of joy because they no longer had to suffer the pain of their affliction. Trying to resolve the conflict we experience at those moments off times create a minor dilemma.
I am now experiencing such a moment. There is a joy within me as I enter my retirement and a sense of sadness in my complete lack of preparation for the event. This situation was created by my lack of foresight because I was too busy enjoying what was rather than preparing for what was to be.
Today is another day in the valley of the sun. The monsoons have arrived. First there are the winds, gigantic sandstorms that stretch from horizon to horizon rising several hundred in the air. Behind them are the hundreds of lighting strikes, thunderclouds and the much need rain for the valley. The temperature drops the air is purified and I sit in my car port sipping my coffee and watching it come down. When it stops it is time to return to the more mundane aspects of my life.
I am trying to records a few of my more memorable moments and events in a memoir I intend to give to my children as a Christmas present. Once inside and t my computer I begin the journey back to a time when I wandered haphazardly through life and played the game. I sowed my seed and in time reaped what I had sowed. That harvest is in essence the summation of my life. It is the foundation of who and what I am today, a decrepit old egotistical cynic sitting in a rocker watching his children grow waiting for the knock on the door with an invitation I will not be able to refuse.
The waiting is not all bad. It allows me to reminisce and relive the past. In so doing I am pleased with what I see. My harvest is not a treasure stored in heaven but one that I was fortunate enough to accumulate here on earth. That treasure is my children who will help fill my Golden Years with an overflowing of love and blessings until it is time for my final metamorphosis, the next and final existence, the Pearly Gates of the fiery furnace.
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