I write this at the start of a new year and a new decade. Today is Saturday, January 4th, 2020. It is 2 PM, and so I’m not at my usual Starbucks writing post. Instead, I’m sitting in an overstuffed leather chair in my home study. On my legs sits my lap table, with its cushioned bottom and bright blue plastic surface. On the lap table is my MacBook with its defective keyboard. It is a computer recalled by Apple, but one that they refuse to fix because I purchased it from a third party. The house is quiet, as only William is home. He is in the family room and busy doing his own thing. My sole contact with him today was to ask him how he was feeling, as he is recovering from a cold. “Better,” was his reply.
Julie is at work in her new office space. Will and I helped her move a few days ago. It was there that I pulled out my back. Although improved, it is still quite sore, and I find that the padding of my comfortable recliner provides better support than the mesh back of my rolling desk chair.
I awoke a little before 4 AM today, but I hit the snooze bar a few times before I got up. While I was in bed, my back felt normal. However, it felt tight and sore as soon as I went from a horizontal to a vertical position. After dressing, I went outside and brushed a light dusting of snow off of my 11-year-old blue Honda Fit. Twelve minutes later, I was in the drive-through line of the Dunkin Donuts on New York Street. “Medium black, and a medium with cream,” I announced into the speaker. I recognized the responding voice as the Hispanic man who usually works that shift. Despite my using a different vehicle, he knew me. When I reached the window, he was ready with my coffees in a carrier, and his terminal out to accept my Apple Pay. We wished each other a good day and drove the three additional blocks to Tom’s house.
Tom was waiting for me, and in his customary fashion, he put his finger to his lips, warning me to be quiet as the rest of the house was sleeping. I always find this humorous, as he is much louder than I am. I gave him his black coffee and sat next to him on the long bench that he uses as a desk chair. Tom is always researching something, and we chatted about his latest discovery before we started to write this week’s post for his construction blog. I had already uploaded a bunch of photos that I thought would be useful. With his approval, we started the composition, which was on repairing a sunroom. I have a love of construction, and after years of listening to Tom describe the process, I can usually compose a post that only requires a few revisions. With edits complete, I published the post to his website, and then linked it to Facebook, Linkedin, Pinterest, and Instagram.
“Do you want to go to breakfast?” Tom asked. “Sure,” was my reply. I was assuming that we were going to go to Harner’s, a pleasant and cheap breakfast joint in Aurora. So I was surprised when he turned onto I88 and headed into the city. He was taking us to our favorite breakfast spot, The Palace Sandwich Shop. There we were greeted by Brandy, the waitress who asked how we were doing and how Tom’s son, Charlie, was. Tom said that Charlie was excellent and recalled the time when Charlie, at age 5, punched George, the restaurant’s owner, directly in the…let me just say below his stomach. On a previous trip to the restaurant, George told Tom that he would never forget Charlie because of that event.
I ordered two eggs over easy with bacon and a fruit cup. Tom ordered the Western Skillet. Our conversation continued, jumping from topic to topic as we talked about politics, movies, real estate, and food. With breakfast complete, Tom generously paid the bill. Brandy wanted to take a picture of Tom to place on the restaurant’s Instagram feed. He held his hand in front of his face and so the photo only showed his hand and me standing in the background. It is doubtful that I’ll make the Instagram cut.
Back in the car, our conversation continued. I started to offer unsolicited advice, and at one point, Tom called me “dad” in a genial tone. Back in Naperville, he wanted to show me a neighborhood that he is thinking about. Tom feels that his house is too big for three occupants, and he has been considering moving to a smaller dwelling. We drove up and down the streets of this pleasant neighborhood to get a vibe for the community.
I returned home to a quiet house and went up to my bedroom to find Julie just finishing a shower. She was getting ready to go to work. She left, and I was left in a quiet house.
I had productive plans, but my sore back continued to bother me, and despite taking a double dose of Alieve, it was tight and tender. I watched YouTube videos until I reached my saturation point and then headed downstairs to the kitchen. In the fridge, I found the pizza box from the Lou Malnati’s pizza that Julie ordered the day before. It was a deep dish spinach pizza with a butter crust. I put two slices on a little aluminum tray and popped the tray into our toaster oven for 8 minutes. Hot and crispy, the pizza served as an excellent lunch.
Which brings me sitting in my overstuffed leather chair, looking out at the snow, typing, thinking. Soon Julie will return home, and we will plot a course for the rest of the day.
I’m sure many of you are wondering why I am writing about such an ordinary day. There is a part of me that would like to answer that question by stating that no day is average or typical. There is another part of me that would like to say the opposite, that today was indeed ordinary. My stream of consciousness is moving me in the latter direction, so I think I’ll go there with today’s post.
In the past, I was always busy, and I always felt like I didn’t have enough time. However, I have been fortunate as of late to have time, and with time I have discovered an entirely new dimension to life. I find a particular joy in the fact that the Dunkin Donuts man and Brandy, the waitress, know who I am. I celebrate that I can spend long periods with my friend, Tom, and never get bored. I have the time to look forward to when Julie will return home. If she is excited and wants to do something, that would be great. However, if she is tired and crabby, I’m OK with that too.
Since I have allowed myself to slow down colors seem more vivid, sounds are sharper, tastes have become more intense. I don’t feel like I’m wasting time, I feel like I’m experiencing it more naturally. I am more connected and grounded to the world around me.
I have stopped asking myself the question, “What will I do when I grow up.” I’m no longer frantically seeking my next career. Instead, I’m trying to listen to my heart, and I’m trying to allow God to act through me. That latter point is a bit scary, as I’m a bit of a control freak. However, when I stop trying to control everything around me, stuff happens. I have become ever more aware that my talents are best utilized on a small, one to one scale. I always thought that I had a higher and more grandiose purpose, but now I embrace the above reality.
I feel moved to slow down enough so I can see the next steps that I should take. My current back issues have forced a further slowing, and so I embrace the pain as it allows me to listen to thoughts with greater clarity.
If I can’t be a good father, husband, friend, or customer, can I be anything authentic? These roles define me. They are not roles that take me away from my life’s mission, they are my mission. I feel that additional tasks and drives will present themselves as long as I keep myself open, willing, and authentic.
In a day, I will start a modified fast, which will consist of one meal a day with bread and water for the other two. I hope to continue this plan for 21 days as I pray and meditate to open myself to the will of God. I can assure you that the thought of me giving up control to anyone is a frightening thing to do. I will try to use the support of those people who love me as I attempt this difficult challenge. I know that I will need to continue to slow down and “be.” I’m not expecting a radical transformation. To be honest, I don’t know what to expect.
My retirement has been different from what I initially envisioned. It has become more personal and rich. I wish I could describe this to you in a more elegant fashion, but the words to do so escape me. However, dear reader, I am not static, I am definitely moving forward.
Here is the audio reading of this podcast: http://psychiatricsecrets.libsyn.com/slow-down