The world seems to swirl around me, catching me in the current, not abiding contemplation, demanding decisions without the time to consider all of the information, denying peaceful moments of considering risk and benefits.

This is a sideshow to aging.

i have been awash in dealing with it, not necessarily depressed but passive in my efforts to be productive. After all, productivity is no longer required even though it is intrinsic in my being.

The medical world has descended upon me in spades. It is mostly annoying but required to ensure some annoyance will not develop into a life threatening condition…or worse. So, this is a requirement even though the medical community is awash in computer wizardry, which separates the providers from patients’ concerns. This is a whammo for the old Navy officer who worked hard to ensure my commands were improving in performance of their mission while the sailors were treated well with their needs addressed.

After chasing the medical gremlins, i stop and avoid the news and, as much as i can, don’t comment or reflect on the sour turn to fear, anger, hate, and greed our politicians and their followers want us all to pursue. i do reflect on how fortunate i am with daughters and their families, my wife, our home, my friends. i perform tasks, some needed, some not. i write for me when so compelled, but no longer make those writings public every day.

i suspect i am at a crossroads and hope it leads me to what i imagined life would be in my 80s: reading the rather large collection of books i have on shelves, plus those that come across my trail, listening to music, telling tales to those who might like to hear or read them, reflecting on a rather kaleidoscopic life, wishing i could pass on what i’ve learned and observed from living it, watching the sunsets, enjoying dinners, taking in the coolness of the early mornings.

i also hope this turn onto the road i choose allows me to post more things for my friends, not for adulation, or praise, but just express how damn good this life is if we focus on what is good, refusing to wallow in the fear, hate, anger, and greed that seems to envelop us today, and encourage all of us, including myself, to do the right thing.

Sleep well. i will.

he heard the cry, barely audible
he didn’t know from whence it came
he thought it was a woman’s cry
he could not be sure
the cry could have emanated from the cave
with a small entrance in the side of the hill
but
the cry also could have come from
deep in the brambles of the surrounding wood
he was not sure
he heard the cry again,
soft, almost a moan
crying for something, he thought
he did not know why
he stopped and listened
he heard a murmur, a moan perhaps
he stooped and entered the cave
he turned to the left tunnel of the two
he stepped in only to fall into the chasm
down he plunged into the abyss
the moan became louder
changing into a soothing call
he felt the change in him
he saw her fluttering up to him
his fall stopped
he found he had wings
she touched him with her left wing
he found his right wing touching her
the two soared upward
out of the chasm
out of the cave
they soared over the wood
to the sea
the two ospreys flew together
into the rising sun

i wasn’t in a good mood this morning.

i had errands to run i didn’t want to run. i had chores to do i didn’t want to do. Maureen and Nikki, two of my favorite women on earth, went to see “The Odyssey.” i declined because the idea of super new graphics being used did not sit well (hey, i am old school: the only graphics (?) i like are the ones in the old , “Superman” TV serials and the “Rocket Man” serials in the movie theater before they showed the Saturday matinee oaters). Also, i am too damn old to sit in a movie theater seat for three hours. Besides, i had chores to do.

“i opened the garage door to take the car out on my errands. There blocking the mail box and the third lane of our driveway was Imperial Star Destroyer sized Toyota “Tundra” pickup, appropriately painted the color of the Star War Stormtroopers.

It obviously belonged to one of the guys working on the renovation next door. Our new neighbors to be are good folks and i like everyone i met who has been working there, even befriended quite a few.

But this gigantic Tonka toy partially blocking our driveway ticked me off.

i went back inside, wrote out a message on piece of paper with my green (XO) Sharpie, and used masking tape to affix it to the driver’s side window. It read:

Apparently, you don’t know, but your hood’s right side is partially blocking a driveway…mine.

And yes, we use it. Please walk a little further next time…unless you are handicapped.

Thanks, jim jewell, 306 Crestview.

i ditched the idea of doing errands and drove to the Bonita Golf Club and had a brunch of their wonderful chorizo and eggs with black beans and corn tortillas, with a couple of IPAs of course.

When i returned, the Tonka toy was still there. But when i woke from my NORP — yes, i still take a Naval Officer Rest Period in the middle of the day — the offending monster had moved, parking down the road a bit. i guess he wasn’t handicapped.

i smiled but was disappointed i didn’t meet the stormtrooper who owned it.

That’s okay. The “Grand Whiner of the Order of the Curmudgeons” (thank you, Marty Linville) felt better.

No one was here to celebrate with us. That’s just fine. The two of us drove to Balboa Park and took in their “Forging a Legacy: 15 Years of Landmark Acquisitions.” It was impressive. We thought of Maren Hicks and Meryl Erlringer throughout.

We dined at Panama 66 next door, the al fresco restaurant and, as usual, sat at the bar. We ordered the charcuterie board with meat and cheese. i had a sauvignon blanc and Maureen added a tomato bisque with her water.

Great choices.

And then, an interlude demonstrated one of the reasons i love her. She had pushed the cup of bisque toward the bar front as we continued. i noticed a June bug dashing about and annoying the waitress taking orders. The bug then headed for us and dove into the tomato bisque. i pointed the poor thing out to Maureen. It was covered with the tomato bisque and was upside down in the cup.

Maureen scooped it up with her spoon and began to wipe it off with a wet napkin. The June bug fell to the floor. Maureen got off of her bar stool, picked up the struggling bug, and washed him off with water and again applied a wet towel.

When it did not fly, Maureen took it out to the sculpture garden in the rear of the dining area, found a bush and placed the befuddled June bug on bush leaf.

She worried about that bug being okay all the way home. Just another reason to love her.

In March 1982. i was the Weapons Officer of the USS Okinawa (LPH 3) home ported in San Diego. The Weapons Officer billet was titled “First Lieutenant” on other amphibious helicopter carriers. Regardless, it meant i was charge in pretty much everything not aviation, engineering, operations, or supply related.

One of those responsibilities was being in charge of the quarterdeck where all visitors entered the ship. From previous regimes, we had a large red torah that spanned the entrance into the helicopter deck below the flight deck. It was impressive, but Captain Dave Rogers called me to his cabin one afternoon. “Jim, I want our quarterdeck to be the best quarterdeck on the base. I want it to be the most impressive and known to be the best by everyone home ported here.”

I, of course, replied, “Aye, Aye, Sir!”

i discussed how we could make the quarterdeck renowned  across the waterfront with my division officers and Boatswain Warrant Officer 4 (CWO4) Ellis. The Bosun had a bit of a beer gut. He was married to a wonderful Filipino woman who created a lovely macramé lanyard for the boatswain pipe the bosun gave me when i was transferred. She was about 4’8″ and almost that wide. Great lady, just a bit wide.

My team came up with the idea of a sitting area next to the quarterdeck. At the time, when guests or visitors came aboard, they had to wait for the watch to contact whomever they were there to see. That sailor or officer would have to come to the quarterdeck to escort the visitor. Often, the time it took to get to the quarterdeck was lengthy. The visitor had to stand around in a very industrial setting until his escort arrived.

So we decided we could create a sitting area with panels, some chairs, maybe a sofa, and hang framed photographs about the Oki on the walls. That way, the visitor wouldn’t have to stand around in the working bay of the helicopter deck. Great idea.

We had to decide where and how to get panels. Since the Bosun and his first class were going to make a supply run Friday, the next day, i asked them to check out panels while they were on their run. Liberty call was early and the Bosun and his first class left around 1300. They were dressed in their standard liberty civies. The Bosun had on Levis with a blue tee shirt with his thick black hair combed back as much as it could to resemble a ducktail. His first class had on his biker’s jeans, white tee shirt with a leather jacket and a silver chain dangling down from the jeans. He had straw blond hair also combed back and the gap of a missing tooth was the final touch. They left for their mission.

Around 1800, i had a bunch of paperwork to work through and continued after liberty call. The bosun came into the office with several boxes of toilet paper (i never understood why he didn’t get it through supply).

“i didn’t think you would be coming back to the ship, Bosun,” i remarked.

“Well, i didn’t want to keep this stuff at home over the weekend,” he replied.

“Did you find any panels?”

“Well sir, we went to Dixieline (a local lumber and home center). They didn’t have them, but they told us to go to Parron-Hall.”

“Parron-Hall?” i puzzled.

“Yes sir. They’re an office furniture place downtown across from the county admin building. We went there, but that place was way too classy for us. They had desks in the showroom worth more than my house.

“So, you are gonna have to go down there and see about them panels.”

Aww, come on, Bosun, i have a lot on my plate.”

“No sir, you are gonna have to go down there. It’s on Ash Street.”

Then he added, ” You know sir, the woman who waited on us was really pretty. i noticed she didn’t have a ring on her finger. i’m pretty sure she’s single.

“And she’s way too skinny for me.”

Epilogue

Midday on the next Monday, i drove down to Parron-Hall Office Materials. i asked the receptionist to see the person who had given her business card to Bosun. i stood at the entrance to the showroom. Maureen came walking across the show room with the sun shining in the window behind her (think Glenn Close in “The Natural,” only prettier). She claims i had my piss cutter on my head. That, of course, is not correct: i am a country boy from Lebanon, Tennessee raised correctly by my parents, Army ROTC at Castle Heights, a Naval career, and, by the way, an officer and a gentleman. My hat was off.

We had numerous discussions about the panels, which required about four or five “business” lunches over the five or six weeks for the panels to arrive. When the deal was done, i asked for that date to see John Lee Hooker at the Belly Up Tavern and added a request to see Doc Watson at the venue on the following Monday. We attended several events over the summer including sailing with JD in the “Fly a Kite” race where we became (or at least JD became) a legend. We went out to dinner too many times to count.

Then, on July 30, 1983, we were married in her father’s backyard.