Young people probably tune-out oldsters when certain phrases come out, such as "I remember when...," or "It happened 50 years ago, but I remember it just like yesterday."
But the thing is, good ol' Gramps was right after all. Because it was 50 years ago when my Grandpa -- a lifelong farmer -- was reminiscing about his one and only scenery vacation to Colorado. There was a change in the barbed wire fences when he reached the Great Plains compared to a Prairie State further east. Then he caught himself, smirked, and said, "You don't want to hear about that. A young man needs so much excitement..." And I can remember it like yesterday, dammit.
Indeed, I have noticed how satisfied I can be with things that don't seem flashy or exciting. The other night it defied the weather forecasts and gave us a nice little shower at 4 in the morning. On the morning dog walk I was impressed by how fresh the sagebrush and grass smelled. It was dead calm. The air still felt kind and gentle. It wasn't a heavy rain, so it made the ground damp instead of muddy. It felt so good to walk on ground with a little bit of give to it.
How nice it would have been if our alien-ancestors would have chosen a planet to colonize that was perfect: for instance, a soft rain shower every few nights would have been nice. (grin) Instead, we only get lucky in the western states a couple nights per year. Maybe that is why it seemed like paradise.
The funny thing is that I almost feel like apologizing for turning into such an old fart that this sort of thing feels utterly satisfying. "Hunger is the best sauce," explains most of it, I suppose. But it might be evidence that, as a person gets older, they do become wiser in some sense.
They aren't looking to Dream the Impossible Dream anymore. They become more content with the goodies in life that are actually attainable. I am not sermonizing about appreciating the "little things in life', because that old platitude makes it sound like you are supposed to settle for something bland or mediocre. I want a strongly-flavored experience at appreciating the goodies that are occasionally gettable.
You could get historical and say we can become more like the "Cynical" philosophers of ancient Athens, so called because they advertised being more dog-like. (Kynikos means dog-like in Greek. Think canid in Latin.)
I'm not trying to sound like an old-fashioned Campbell Soup commercial or like a Hallmark Card. I want to wallow zestfully in the Attainable, the way my little dog, raised in Phoenix, enjoyed her first trip to the inland Northwest a couple years ago. She had worked up quite a thirst running alongside my mountain bike. Is there anything more delightful than hearing a thirsty dog drink water?
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| "Cold water doesn't come right out of the ground, back in Phoenix." |
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| "I'm a Phoenix girl. What's this cold white shit doing on the ground in June?" |
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| "I think I am going to like my lifestyle with this new guy." |
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| And finally we are back to the old neighborhood in northeastern Oregon. |
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