Be careful what you resolve for…

…you just might get it.

Back on New Year’s eve I made a resolution–the first one since high school, probably.  At the time it seemed pretty simple,  inconsequential and, better than those, incontrovertibly good: I resolved to live my life with more intensity. What I didn’t realize was that the universe was listening and, being my friend, decided  there and then to make it  happen.

O boy!

Through such diverse agencies as Facebook, the senior citizens agency Dorot, my first printer in 3 years, this blog and the usual suspects (family, friends, Samaritan Village–my employer–and even meditation) the remarkably calm and easily negotiated life of the 67-year-old Goldberg, the one to which I was far more accustomed than I realized, was suddenly transformed into the wish-granted chaos of the 68-year-old version.

(picture representing both intensity and chaos)

  • Through Facebook I regained contact with several co-workers from my film editing days and spent actual face time with two of them: two wonderful meetings filled with warmth and friendship after 20-25 years of no contact.  One subsequently sent me a script, asking for my comments.  Me?!
  • I also caught up with a buddy from my days as a member of The Open Nose (yes, The Open Nose,) a group with whom I hosted large, loud, smoky, noisy parties and a lunch time disco in 4 of the 5 boroughs back in the mid 1970’s, this after 35 years of no contact.
  • And I remet Sterling, who has since our last real meeting in 1970 has gone through an intense training in past life regression and realized her ability as a clairvoyant and a person of peace.  See

http://www.keen.com/details/sterling-11/Love-Relationships/3971840

  • Dorot has me tutoring a citizen even more senior than myself in the use of the computer.  See   http://www.dorotusa.org
  • The printer of course has me printing–photos.  This means either framing them or sending them to others which, of course, means trips to the post office…
  • The family has me familing.
  • Work has me running my bony little behind off.  We now are accepting new clients directly from the courts or the street (remember, I work in a residential drug treatment program), so my new task is to be part of the admissions team.  (Good thing I love it, huh?)  I’ve also started a new group for clients about to leave treatment and move back to the world that sent them into treatment in the first place.  That’s http://www.samvill.org
  • I’ve started reading for fun.  David gave me a David Sedaris book for Christmas.  Someone else gave me a David Byrne book.
  • After problems followed by a year of trying to feel comfortable  again in my old zendo (Yes, there’s a posting on that: https://goldberg.wordpress.com/2008/12/18/this-is-a-hard-one) without success, I’ve begun sitting with a group sprung from those folks with whom I attend week-long retreats in the spring and autumn.

What this all adds up to is this: My life is full to overflowing.  Along with my work days, Monday night, Tuesday night, Thursday night and even Friday night are spoken for.  (Friday night is particularly cool though.  That’s “Date Night.”)

And there’s more.  There’s this: After minimal contact since 1985 I had lunch with the creator, proprietor and now former owner of W.M. Tweed’s/All State Cafe and its most durable and endearing regular.  On the basis of another posting (https://goldberg.wordpress.com/2007/10/26/one-more-storied-bar-falls-victim-to-rising-rents) in this very blog, they’ve asked me–ME!–to write a book–A BOOK!–about the bar and its geo-historical setting.  Keep in mind that when I drank at the Allstate, the spot was filled with the literarily talented, most of whom are still alive.  Some of whom actually earned their livings by their writing.  Some of whom were much more connected to things than I was.  Many of whom were much more coherent.  Still, over pastrami, omelets and my objections, they kept affirming that, yes, I and not any of those thems was the one to do this.

(As I said earlier, O boy!)

By the time I got home  I was deep into overwhelm.  I was flattered, sure, but I was also terrified.  At one point in the conversation I felt my hand reaching into my shirt pocket for a cigarette!  I haven’t smoked since 1985!  Part of me felt like the central character in the rewrite of a chapter of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America, the one which may have been called “1/3, 1/3, 1/3.”   After a cup of tea and a phone call to my wife who was up in Connecticut being a grandmother and maybe a sip of tequila, overwhelm transformed into uncomfortable calm.  Uncomfortable because I’m used to taking things seriously.  Calm because  I was able to remember: no matter  how filled my life may be, it still appears one day at a time.  Some things will just not get done.

Hell, I’m 68.  When my folks  were my age, they’d been dead for 8 years apiece.  I’m already in extra innings.   I first applied this logic back in 1991 when I was 49 and entered social work school.  I remember thinking: if I can get my student loans on long enough terms, I’ll die before they’re all paid off.  I’ll win!!!

And what if I die before finishing the script?  Or before my computer student learns how to copy something from the internet and then fax it to a friend who is computerless?  Before I write the Allstate book or clean the rugs?  As for finishing the two  David books I was given for Christmas–PULEEZE!!!  Someone with a mellifluous voice can always sit beside my ashes and read whatever’s left to me.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I don’t want to do any of these things.  I truly do want to do them–all of them.  That’s why I was putting so much pressure on myself to do them.  What I’ve realized from all this is that my life is and will constantly be filled with things I want to do.  Even the things that might not seem like that much fun, things utterly common, have been reclassified as  ultimately delightful: Giving Fred the cat his medicine, doing laundry, listening to stories I’ve heard before, cardiac stress tests.   I’ve reached that blissful stage at which just being alive is satisfying.  It’s the same stage at which seriosity detracts from both satisfaction and fun.

Does this make sense?

…does this?

A note on blog posting: At this point I tried to add 3 more photographs,  one each from George Carl Kaplan, Goldie Silverman and Joanna Garland, the only 3 folks to respond to my invitation of the last posting.  When I went to “preview,” they were all scrambled.  When I returned to “compose/edit”  so as to try again, they’d disappeared.

Does that make sense?

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Published in: on January 19, 2010 at 8:07 am  Comments (8)  

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8 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. My darling, even when you don’t make sense, you make sense.

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  2. Goldie, Richard, The Goldmeister: you are the standard by which we all who
    are aging judge ourselves. I was a Dorot volunteer and then board member for
    over 20 years. You have inspired me to go back and for that I am very
    thankful. As Glenn, now known as GB(Glenn Bob) pointed out it was WM Tweed’s
    and All State is 2 words…..If this project works your life and especially
    your Friday Night date nights will get better and better…. It was great to
    see you and don’t ever start smoking again!!!!!!!!!!!! Steve

    Like

    • Thanks for your praise, warning and sharp eye. Both corrections have been made, and I pledge clean lungs.

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  3. I’m sorry you lost my picture. What did it show? I’ll try to send it again if I can. I’m not terribly camera literate.

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  4. It makes my heart feel good to know that your sojourn is taking off. Even at 68. Light the candles. Get on the rocket and ride my Brother. I know you’re funning as you go and always in charge.

    Like

  5. Dear Dick,

    How I enjoyed your being 68 and your astonishment at how full your life is! I’d be dead in just an hour and a half of it! Love, Barbara

    Like

  6. YOU ARE WANDERING IN THE DESERT AND NO NOT. THERE ARE BOTH LEGAL AND ILLEGAL DRUGS FOR YOUR CONDITION. YOU JUST NEED TO WAKE UP AND REALIZE THAT IT HAS ALL BEEN A DREAM.

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  7. I think it would be great for you to write the book on behalf of Stephen Resnick and All State Cafe. I met Stephen in 1987 here in Minnesota. He was a warm and caring man and we corresponded for awhile. He was here only for a brief time. I always wondered what happened to him and just googled his name and saw that he closed his bar a few years back. It would be great to read this book. I can see by your blog that you are a writer and this would be a most challenging and interesting research and writing project for you. Hope you make it happen!…Maggie

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