Nobody 710

Friday, August 24, 2007
Nobody # 710

Nobody Asked Me But:

Tomorrow morning we fly to Hawaii, and Sunday I will, for the first time, celebrate my birthday there. As for that birthday, this poem by Edgar Guest says it all. He even has my age right:

I used to think that growing old was reckoned just in years,
But who can name the very date when weariness appears?
I find no stated time when men, obedient to a law,
Must settle in an easy chair and from the world withdraw.
Old age is rather curious, or so it seems to me.
I know old men at 40 and young men at seventy-three.

Janis Ian has a line in her song “At Seventeen” that is a PDG measure of one’s attitude towards life:

“Their small-town eyes will gape at you
in dull surprise when payment due
exceeds accounts received.”

In my life, accounts received is way ahead.<<<

I am finally getting religion. - No, not that kind. I mean “exercise for health” religion. My problem is where and how. The Y takes too much time. I’m too young to walk the malls. I don’t like to walk the neighborhood, although it is a good one, because there is always the danger of being bitten by a stray dog or a middle-school kid. So I have decided to dance my way to continued good health.

I turn on some medium fast music and dance around the kitchen for a half-hour. (I throw in a little shadowboxing with my intricate steps.) This and a bit of housework will make for a healthy Jim.<<<

If you recall, last week I quoted Manohla Dargis in her review of the Borne trilogy:

“The drama of ‘Identity’ was existential (Who am I?), and the drama of ‘Supremacy’ was moral (What did I do?). I would say that the drama of ‘Ultimatum’ is redemptive: How can I escape what I am?”<<<

Now I will take my shot at answering these three questions:

Who am I?

I am a person who loves wisely and well.

What did I do?

I have done more living than existing.

How can I escape what I am?

I like who I am, and I don’t want to escape. In fact, whenever our doorbell rings I use the peephole to see who’s there. If it is death, I’m not answering.<<<

JIM’S WISDOM (a name, not a claim) – Hawaiian memories edition

UP: St. Augustine for writing, “The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.”

UP: My first trip to Hawaii. When I stepped off the plane and knew I was home.

DOWN: Never having a chance to live there.

UP: My first trip there with Barb. At the time (1987) there were four AAA Five Diamond hotels on the islands and we had short stays in 3 of them.

UP: My first meal at Roy’s, my favorite restaurant, where we will dine Sunday.

UP: Kauai, my co-favorite among the islands. It is low-key and quiet – except when you hit north/south traffic in Kaapa.

UP: The Koloa "tunnel." When we turn down this road Saturday, we will be almost to our hotel in Poipu. (picture)

UP: My first view of Hanalei Bay from the library bar of the Princeville library bar. Is that Mitzi Gaynor shampooing down there?

WAY, WAY UP: My wife, for teaching me that Oahu is something more than a stopover on the way to Kauai or Maui.

UP: Being there twice with Barb’s parents.

DOWN: A regret not a memory - never having had a chance (so far) to share it with my children and grandchildren.

UP: My first taste of Dave’s ice cream. Dave’s is located in, of all places, Sears Ala Moana.

UP: Teva sandals. Barb bought me my first pair on Kauai. Actually it was my first ever sport sandals. I had taken some stupid vow (religious maybe, I don’t know) never to wear sandals. Now just try to take them away.

DOWN: Credit card fraud at the car rental desk at the Hilton Hawaiian Village.

UP: Our $99 round trip airfare to the Big Island in the winter of 1993.

UP: Parasailing.

OP: Playing smash ball in the hotel pools.

UP: My Kahala hat, my all-time favorite, which, alas, has seen better days.

DOWN: Things gone – like the Rigger where we always used to eat hamburgers, and Liberty House, Hawaii’s great department store.

UP: My 200th Starbuck’s – close to the University of Hawaii where we will watch the Bruin women’s volleyball team on Labor Day.


Here’s the whole Guest poem:

Old Age.

I used to think that growing old was reckoned just in years,
But who can name the very date when weariness appears?
I find no stated time when man, obedient to a law,
Must settle in an easy chair and from the world withdraw.
Old age is rather curious, or so it seems to me,
I know old men at forty and young men at seventy-three.

Some men keep all their friendships warm, and welcome friendships new,
They have no time to sit and mourn the things they use to do.
This changing world they greet with joy and never bow to fate;
On ever fresh adventure they set out with hearts elate.
From chilling fear and bitter dread they keep their spirits free,
While some men seem old at forty they stay young at seventy-three.


So much to do, so much to learn, so much in which to share!
With twinkling eyes and mind alert some brave both time and care.
And this I've learned from other men, that only they are old,
Who think with something that has passed the tale of life is told.
For ages not alone of time, or we should never see,
Men old and bent at forty and men young at seventy-three.