So Much More Than This

"We had an apartment in the city and me and Loretta liked living there. Well, it'd been years since the kids had grown, a life of their own and left us alone.

John and Linda live in Omaha, and Joe is somewhere on the road. We lost Davy in the Korean war, and I still don't know what for, don't matter anymore.

You know that old trees just grow stronger, and old rivers grow wilder every day. Old people just grow lonesome, waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello".

Me and Loretta, we don't talk much more, she sits and stares through the back door screen. And all the news just repeats itself, like some forgotten dream that we've both seen.

Some day I'll go and call up Rudy, we worked together at the factory. But what could I say if he asks "What's new?" "Nothin', what's with you? Nothin' much to do."

You know that old trees just grow stronger, and old rivers grow wilder every day. Old people just grow lonesome, waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello".

So if you're walkin' down the street sometime, and spot some hollow, ancient eyes, please don't just pass 'em by and stare, as if you didn't care. Say "Hello in there, hello."

Hello in There, John Prine

I have so much more than this, for which I am enormously grateful.

But I am 71. Sometime in the future, Carol will die and I'll live alone, or I will die and Carol will live alone. Before that, we most likely will go downhill health-wise and life will get a lot harder.

If I don't make the right moves in the chaos that is America right now, we could end up in a lot of trouble. We have very little financial security.

I am afraid. These are the thoughts going through my head and I can't shut them down.

I have stumbled through every crossroads in my life, taking the wrong direction or no direction. This is my last chance to get it right, and my track record gives me no confidence that I can do what needs to be done. That I can actually pull this off.

This is not how I want to spend my old age, but you reap what you sow.

I want to leave Carol some comfort. I'll never be able to make enough money for her to be worry-free - it's too late for that now, I blew it. The most I can do is pad the bank account as much as I am able to so she has a softer landing. Our sons will always be there for her after the cushion is gone, no worries there.

It's a heavy load. I gotta make better decisions, I gotta believe in myself. No more prostrating myself for chump change like I have been doing for the last 10 years; I can do better. I have been trying, but so far no good.

I am trying to do it with dignity. Trying to get into something that will challenge me, make use of whatever talents I have, and make me feel proud. I owe that to myself.

I am also trying hard to appreciate what we have now, instead of killing happiness with worry. Contrary to the way I have lived my life up to this point. We are OK right now. Our life is good. Pretty peaceful. We are happy, we have each other. We have a loving family, and we have the extraordinary gift of Jackson. I am becoming more aware of how lucky I am and it feels good.

Still, I am afraid. There are days when I sit in front of the computer with grand designs, job hunting, and end up walking away defeated. Despondent. But I will not give up. Honestly I want to find some success for myself so my family can say "Wow, he really changed in the last ten years of his life. He finally showed what he was capable of." More importantly, much more importantly, I want Carol to have as little to worry about as possible.

I don't want to end up with hollow, ancient eyes. I hope to get through this with a spark in my eyes. Some life. 

A hint of a smile.