There are three stages of life through which most of us go: care-free, careful, and care-filled. This came to mind as I followed a school bus dropping off kids in my neighborhood. They were bouncing up the street without a care in the world, moms gathering them up in outstretched arms and family pets scampering around ankles.
It is easy to remember the feeling of getting out of school for the summer. It was a time of excitement after nine months of confinement. It meant getting up in the morning, pulling on shorts and shirt, having breakfast, and then off to a day of adventure. Bare feet, tender from months of wearing shoes, soon became tough as whitleather.
One thing that was absent from life in those halcyon days was worry. Of course, we had concerns: Would the rain keep us from playing ball? What would be served for supper? Could we go to the movies? But basically we were care-free. Most of us were lucky enough to have our basic needs guaranteed. Life was good but by mid-August mothers were ready for school to open and, truthfully, so were we.
As adults, if we were fortunate, we had found professions, fallen in love, had children and things moved along with a certain amount of smoothness. There were, of course, bumps in the road, but most of the time we had confidence that whatever life presented we could handle. It was not a care-free time because we had learned that actions had consequences and in order to maximize the good and minimize the bad, careful planning was required.
Nonetheless the fortunate among us awoke in the morning with a sense of anticipation, if not excitement, about what the day might hold. Awareness that real trouble could lie around the corner was acknowledged so caution was sometimes in order and families were raised with the admonition that the life in the real world required being careful.
As our parents ripened into old age, we began to assume, usually with grace, care for their needs. We found that more time and effort to make their lives not lonely but comfortable and safe was a payback for the care-free time of our childhoods when they had unstintingly met our needs. That extended into getting us educated and moving toward independence. Our lives then began to morph into caregivers as age overtook our parents and the stress of those years could be expensive and demanding unless careful planning had been in place.
As time moved inexorably on and parents died, we found to our amazement that we were getting old. As Billy Crystal exclaimed while looking in the mirror on his 65th birthday, “How the hell did this happen?” Well, if we are lucky, it will happen to all of us and we will become the recipients of care ourselves. No longer do we leap out of bed in the morning, full of anticipation and energy for what lies ahead. Time, occasionally a lot of time, is required in rounding up the equipment to navigate the waking hours.
Although most of us would admit we knew this was coming, few anticipate that with alarming frequency we would be notified of some catastrophe that had befallen a friend. A week rarely goes by that a phone call does not deliver such a message. Our days become care-filled with concern for those with whom we have been through much of our lives and are now on shaky ground.
Sooner or later (we hope the latter) we will find ourselves in a similar situation which will require a new patience with our infirmities. It will be difficult to look back at the care-free days of childhood, the joys of young adulthood, maturity and edging into old age without a realization that we took much for granted. True though that may be, we should be grateful for the ride that got us this far and figure out how to make the final lap meaningful, if not enjoyable.
Hayden Hollingsworth
