Growing old; perhaps discovering another level of maturity

Interesting times, when you move up the ladder of age. You look around, this has become a cliché, and wonder “what the f#$*&!” Cliche’? Yes. True? Also yes.

It’s like this little column here that I write for my own satisfaction. I do it because I have no choice. This is what I do. I write.

I’m not very good at it. But I’m not bad. That’s nonsense. Just internal dribble. The point is: I would love to talk about the real stuff that is going on in my world right now, but I can’t. I can’t because it’s all too sensitive based on the position I inhabit. Boy, could I tell some things. And one day, if I live that long, I will. But in the meantime, I write this way. Hidden. Deceptive. Respectful.

And by the way, nobody reads this anyway. It’s not like a I have any following. I do not. Again, I do this without choice. I do this because it’s like breathing.

So, I talk in vague terms about stuff; going undetected. And yet allowing some escape. An exhale, if you will.

I have belonged to an organization that really isn’t an organization for my entire adult life. It is a loose-knit group of men and women who come together to help each other not take the first drink, one-day-at-a-time.

I have spent my entire adult life in this organization that’s not organized. Everything positive in my adult life is directly a result of this group. My wife, who I’ve been married to for a quarter-of-a-century this August. My two sons, who I love, but don’t necessarily like.

Let’s visit about them for just a second. They are both adults. One is 25 and the other is 20. Both live at home. Both attend college. Both get good grades. Both treat this home as their own personal, dumping ground. My 20-year-old is a free-loading anarchist. My 25-year-old is a great guy on the verge of graduating college and totally depressed about his future. He is a journalism major. He loves newspapers. The apple does not fall too far from the tree.

Anyway, back to this organization that’s not organized. For the first time in my adult life – to be exact, not since I was 27 – I am contemplating quietly disconnecting from this group. I have already begun the process, but I still have a few friends that I like and admire. I do not want to hurt their feelings by severing the tie that binds us together.

They are good people, deserving of my respect and admiration. I am lucky to have them in my life. And, if I talked with them about this, they would be supportive and understanding. They  would, and probably will when I address this with them, say things like: “Do what you think is best. Don’t worry about us. We will be fine.” Things like  that. These are successful, mature, smart, good people. It will be my loss. That’s for sure.

There you have it, The Tale of Willie the Weeper. I am taking a few days off and that is nice. I will keep whoever is out there posted as to the next step. We will continue our journey together until the Netherlands and whatever is beyond that. Talk soon.







About stevewhitmore

Former award-winning newspaperman and broadcast journalist, both radio and TV, spanning three decades. Army-trained paralegal, court bailiff and prosecutor's lead investigator for the 8th Infantry Division's Judge Advocate General's Corp., Mainz, Germany. 1973-1975.
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One Response to Growing old; perhaps discovering another level of maturity

  1. Rob hager says:

    I understand completely Steve

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