TIME PRECIOUS, NOT SQUANDERED

AUGUST 7, 2022 – Blogger’s note: Because “I’m late, I’m late for a very important date,” I’ve had to defer until tomorrow, the second part of “Men’s Shoes.” Don’t worry, however. The piece is already in the (shoe) bag. Also, for today’s post, I’ve given myself special dispensation and lifted my self-imposed limit on the word count. After all . . . it’s my birthday today!

Not since my twenties have I been so happy on August 7.

Back in January when “the diagnosis” came down, I was thinking “end of the road,” not “longevity.” Now that the road has been extended, another birthday—candles and all—is the happiest I’ve had.

Ironically, as I anticipate the treatment that’ll leave me feeling “crappy” for a while, I’m as feisty as ever. I’m determined to have “happy returns of the day” and many, healthy ones, too. I’m banking on my oncologist’s assurance that I’ll “be skiing next winter and many winters to come.”

In ensuing days, I’ll be writing more about the procedure for which I’m soon scheduled: an “autologous stem cell transplant” to smack down the myeloma cells that still reside in my system, albeit at a fraction of the threat at the diagnostic stage eight months ago. The transplant is designed to reduce these rogue cells further; to add more quality years to life; to give bolstered ability to confront other age-related maladies that eventually overtake life—if we’re lucky enough . . . to age as far as I expect to mellow.

As I turn 68, I’ve laid down a few goals. They aren’t “bucket list” items. They’re in the “being” column: being kinder; being more alert; and most important, being a positive influence on the lives of people around me.

I’m also determined not to squander time.

When our oldest son was an infant, I thought reading Good Night Moon for the umpty-umpth time was squandering my limited opportunity to read up on the news. In a ridiculous attempt to have it both ways, I’d hold a feeding bottle in one hand and in the other, the latest issue of The Economist. Then, in a voice appropriate for Good Night Moon, I’d read aloud an arcane article about the link between credit markets and oil production. “If we examine the history of INTEREST rates,” for example, “THEN . . . [A-ha!] the effect of increases or decreases in OIL prices BECOMES . . . MORE . . . EV-I-DENT! [How about THAT, Cory?!]” I’m sure it sounded insane, but at least I wasn’t squandering time by reading nonsense to an infant as he sucked on a bottle.

Imagine how stupid I was—if you can.

I’ve since become smarter and wiser by the Zen master’s paradoxical standard: I know I’m neither smart nor wise. At least I realize that a supreme way to squander one’s time is to “read up on the news.” (It’s our second son, Byron, who’s become the “finance guy.”)

Having just spent a long, delightful weekend at the cabin with our six-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter, I know not a second was “squandered time.” Hiking the woods, swimming the lake, running an obstacle course from east to west, lounging in the comfort of the tree house, or reading (aloud) my now all-time favorite literature . . . Green Eggs and Ham, or . . . hearing the loons, and saying goodnight to the moon and stars . . . every moment with this happy, funny, active, creative child was time best spent. (I ignored the news.)

Yesterday evening just after a sunset cruise, I dropped Beth and Illiana off at the dock in front of our Red Cabin, and piloted the boat back to its berth at Björnholm, down the shore and below the old family cabin. I dashed off an entry in the vessel’s log, then tidied things up, grabbed the keys and binoculars, and hiked back to the Red Cabin. With darkness descending over the woods, I eventually saw the porch lights through the trees and followed them to my destination.

Upon emerging from the forest, I heard Illiana call out, “Grandpa!” Behind her stood my wife with a few brightly-lit candles atop a chunk of the Dairy Queen cake left over from her recent birthday. The two well-wishers sang “Happy Birthday.” Then came the most wonderful birthday present ever: a home-made birthday card from Illiana. It was exquisite, because it came from the heart and depicted the nature that we so love to explore together. Plus—she’d added a four-leaf clover.

Time precious, not squandered.

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson