Tag Archives: old guy

A Mountain Climber Reaches 50

Dear readers- I’ve been thinking about this for awhile, one of those pieces that wrote in my head about 10 times before I was able to get it down. Think if it as Deep Thoughts brought on by another milestone passed, or as the piece would say, another hill summited.

The great state of Hawai’i where our president was supposed to have been born, [sic] has the tallest mountain on the planet, if measured from base to top, Mauna Kea. Measured from the ocean floor to it’s peak at over 13,000 feet, it would be 10,000 feet taller than Everest if it started on dry land. Next door the volcano Mauna Loa, which though 120 feet shorter than Mauna Kea, is the most massive shield volcano on the planet in terms of area covered. The weight of these two massive mountains is literally compressing the earths crust beneath them.

West and north of these two the Hawaiian islands get smaller and and smaller, the islands older and older, the volcanic activity further and further in the past  and by the time you pass Kauai and Niihau the Hawaiian Island chain becomes isolated rocks, reefs, atolls and finally the Emperor sea mounts which stretch all the way to Russia. All of these were once mountains.


I was chatting with an old friend yesterday, a person about the same stage in life I am, same place with kids, same age, and one who knows me pretty well despite our relationship being more on the professional side than personal. But this is one of those guys who, were circumstances different I would want to spend more social time with, he’s a bucket filler as I told my son yesterday.

We were reminiscing a bit, talking about the kids, the career and about being at a stage in life where things seem a little weird.

His word.

But the more I think about it, it’s dead on. This is a weird time, 50. The proverbial halfway point.

I can go Bing and pull up a dozen different clichés about what you’re supposed to go through in each decade of your life. Inevitably they all say the same thing, at 20 be wild and find a partner, at 30 work on you career and your family, at 40 work on success, a euphemism for money in most cases,  at 50 work on your legacy and 60 work on your, shit I don’t know, your legacy some more. And most of them end at 70 or 80 when you work on your memory and your sex drive, and passing gas, many of them have something about wearing purple for some reason.

Purple, like prince. Personally I want to wear blaze orange when I’m 80 so they can find me easier out in the street when snow melts in the spring.

But I digress.

50 seems to be the stage in life where the number of new opportunities and paths which manifest themselves at any given time is no longer greater than the number of those which are no longer possible.

There’s just things I won’t or can’t do anymore, paths blocked by the things I no longer have; time, willingness to take risk, and a certain clarity of vision brought on by age and experience.

And that I think, is what makes it weird.

The good news is, age and experience provide a wonderful internal compass, which really does enable me to see the best in the things available and helps me to avoid the ones that are not so great. It also means that things I find now, I’m able to take far more pleasure in and they’re far richer experiences than most of the opportunities I had even a few years ago.

Now I’ve been extremely fortunate to never have had to face any kind of great hurdles, my path has been easy, and perhaps of my own making. I recently read a sales pitch some stupid seminar “are you living life to it’s fullest or taking the path of least resistance.”

That thought makes me a little uncomfortable to be honest.

Here’s how I’m thinking about, being an analogy kind of guy-

When you’re young the world looks like a series of mountains to climb. There’s always one right in front of you and a hundreds more around you.  If I’ve learned anything over the years it’s this- there is a unbreakable rule in mountain climbing, the fastest way to tops of all the peaks in a range is take them one at a time. While you can start many at once you can only arrive at the top, one peak at a time.

Along the way of course every mountain has several paths to the top, some easy and some hard. Some peaks are higher than others, some routes require pitons and equipment and help from a team, some peaks you can climb in a day in a pair of sandals. Sometimes there’s rock slides some times storms come up and hinder your progress.

What I like about this stage of life…and time, and the experience that comes with time, is the understanding of how erosion works. Like the Hawaiian islands, today massive seemingly immovable mountains, sturdy as a rock so to speak, will one day be gone. I won’t live to see it, but even the great Mauna Kea, all 13,000 feet of her, towering over the oceans around her, will one day slip back beneath the waves, replaced by the next generation of volcano’s to pass over the hole in the earths crust that gave birth to the entire chain. Assuming of course it they weren’t born in Kenya or Indonesia and have appropriate long form birth certificates and meet the criteria of the Secretary of State of the not so great State of Arizona. Just say’n.

Even the might Everest, still growing as the Indian plate slides under China, will one day begin shrinking and will become a steppe.

 

So here we are at 50.  I get to stand on the peaks I’ve climbed, and I’ve found that they’re  not nearly as high as I thought they were. I’m not completely satisfied with my progress or the accomplishment of reaching, not “the” top, but rather “A” top. I found that for the most part the path to the top was not as bad as it looked when I was at the bottom looking up. And I’ve found that the view from up here, is like the view from the top of Everest, a vast horizon of other peaks and mountains.

But at 50ish I realize I ain’t going to get them all, and the best part is, I’m totally cool with that.

Thanks for your indulgence.

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Dentist, With Mr Sank :)

Semi annual trip to the dentist yesterday. Let me go on the record and tell you I’m quite compulsive when it comes to oral hygiene, floss a couple times a day, brush a couple times a day, Listerine etc. Consequently I see a trip to the dentist as a nice confirmation of my fastidiousness habits. And, typically the habits are rewarded, although I’m not sure that the hygienist doesn’t subscribe to the theory that since she’s got no where else to be for the next ½ hour she’ll scrape at nothing anyway. This came to a particular head when she grabbed the dental floss. “Uh.. I don’t need that.” “Oh but I have to do it.” “No you don’t” “Yes… I do, “No, You DON’T”. “Look here, I floss twice a day.. look at my teeth, you commented yourself that I’ve got no gum disease or plaque to speak off”. “Well, I need to floss your teeth it’s part of your treatment.” “My treatment involves booze, I assure you this is no treatment”.

I won that one.

I have, however, noticed a disturbing trend in my dental visits of late. The last three times I’ve been in, including yesterday, the Dentist himself, who swoops in after the hygienist has completed her deal, finds some kind of decay that I had no idea I had. Thanks to X-Rays he’s able to see decay that is invisible to the naked eye.

Every time.

Which, based on my complete lack of any indicating symptoms, and having happened now THREE times in a row now, I’m starting to suspect something. My darker side is starting to think that old farts with clean teeth who don’t require a lot of extra treatment aren’t much of a profit center for these guys. My last filling, which was the size of a pinhead for example, I’m still not certain that I needed it. I recently read a piece that cited a study where several dentists were given the same set of x-rays to examine. They all found decay.. but all found them on different teeth. Makes you wonder.

This seems to be the new health care paradigm. Now at the dentist I’m going to go with his assessment that I have decay. He took the time to show me how, on the X-ray the tooth looks slightly different than the ones next to it. It’s an old root canal from when I was like 20, BTW- an experience that was so painful and so traumatic that I’ve never been the same person in the chair, even 30 years later.

I digress. Last year I had yet another chunk of skin sliced off and sent to a lab. Got a call about 10 days later that I would have to come in to discuss the biopsy results. People who have had cancer don’t like to hear biopsy or come in in the same sentence, sets off serious panic attacks. When I asked if I could have the results over the phone I was told “you’ll need to come in and talk with Doctor”. Dum dum DUUUUMM. I spent three sleepless nights and angst filled days before I finally had the appointment, where I was told.. “the results are normal, we’re putting you back on the once a year check up”.

Relief quickly gave way to anger as I realized that, 1) I’d been put through needless anxiety for this and 2) the my heath care provider had found a way to relive me of a $50.00 co-pay for something that should have been done over the phone. Apparently that was “policy” in case I had any questions.

While the hygienist finished up and after I had put all my clothes back on, the dentist was out working on the computer, apparently figuring out the bill so he could pre-authorize the procedure he wanted to do. I was pissed to be honest. The hygienist, sensing my anger put on her “caring” face and asked if I was upset about the procedure. “I’m upset about paying for the procedure to be honest.” The reason I’m compulsive about my teeth, and um.. virtually nothing else in my life, is to avoid these procedures. I’ve heard enough old folks like me, sitting in the chairs on the other side of the wall, being told about their gum surgeries and so forth. Saw the brother in law have his entire mouth sliced up to correct years of dental neglect. He’s also from West Virginia where hoof and mouth disease are endemic so I’m not sure that anything would have actually helped, but decades of Pall Malls couldn’t have helped.

I don’t think the lady knew quite what to think of me, based on her look. I walked out to the lobby where the dentist was waiting. “Need you sign these Gar… “ He and I know each other outside the office too, so at times, I’m a bit informal.

“Looks like it’ll be about $1300, insurance pays about half.” Holy shit.. $750.00 American? “just pull the fucking thing” I said. The dentist looked up at me, “no, we’re not ‘just pulling the fucking thing’”. He actually dropped the f-bomb too. “It’s in the middle of your mouth, you’ll look stupid and still have pay for a bridge or an implant.”

“Dr. Look at me, old fat ugly guy, way post peak, why the hell would I give a shit about one tooth here or there. It isn’t going to make a difference in my life. If I’m going to lose my teeth anyway, let’s start with this one.”

He shook his head and looked closer at the x-ray.. “You know, I’m going to send this off to a specialist to take a look. There’s a chance that you’re going to lose the tooth anyway, then we’ll be talking bridge. We could also do an implant but that’s going to be significantly more expensive.” “Wouldn’t a hole be easier to keep clean?”

He responded with, “This could be the dumbest conversation I’ve had in months.. we’re NOT leaving you with a hole in your face to save a couple hundred dollars. Besides, your teeth are healthy, you’re aren’t losing them any time soon.” Ohh. “Ah HA, so I have healthy teeth now, but not so healthy that they don’t cost me $3000.00 a year.

He has more cooperative patients apparently; at least that’s what he implied. The specific language he used to describe me being more relevant in a proctologists office than a dentist, unless we’re talking about washing hands and I don’t wanna go there.

When I got home and explained to Mrs S the conversation we’d had she replied that she didn’t know if she should be more embarrassed about my using the f-bomb at the dentists office or my making a stupid argument about paying for a tooth, or my stand on flossing.

She suggested that she would not be kissing a man with a missing tooth. I suggested that would mean I could finally grow the beard I’ve been craving, the futile hope of a kiss or two being the deal breaker there. If that hope went away.. why no telling what sort of cool facial hair I could sprout, not to mention saving myself $750.00. See, there’s a silver lining to every cloud.

 

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