Editor’s note: This was Bob Jones’ final entry before his death on July 14, 2020. It offers one final lesson from a man who always approached life with hope and a sense of adventure for the road ahead.
A train pulling out of the station reminds me of aging.
It feels like lots of things remind me of aging nowadays (and doesn't take a pandemic announcing the fragility of my generation to stir up those emotions). Finding oneself locked in a 70 year old body should be reminder enough.
Physical activities which used to be easily performed and taken for granted become challenging. Mental acuity slowly dulls. Though these changes are not welcomed with open arms, there is a quality that presents itself which can be embraced. Growing old is not valued in our culture.
As we reach our golden years, we are offered products to keep us looking young, extend our vitality and sharpening our memory. We have a fear and dread of becoming our grandparents.
Good Lord, could it be that this body in the mirror is mine?
Will we try to hide our eyes from aging as if it was a scary movie with Boris Karloff? It needn’t be like this! We can embrace growing old by accepting it with grace.
The process of aging allows us to take notice of the wonders around us if we are able to un-hurry. Perhaps for the first time since we were little, life shows us how magnificent the details can be.
“We can embrace growing old by accepting it with grace. The process of aging allows us to take notice of the wonders around us if we are able to un-hurry. Perhaps for the first time since we were little, life shows us how magnificent the details can be.”
Flowers, birds, little animals, strangers, friends, and family all take on a new sparkle. When we allow this to happen and let go of the need to be defined by what we do in favor of who we are, an inner beauty and grace will be exposed for the very first time. We are made new just when we thought we were getting old.
Wouldn't it be terrific to anticipate this elderhood experience as if it was the exciting adventure of watching trains pull out of the station with on the tracks to who-knows-where?
I was growing up in Danville, Illinois back in the 1950's, “let's go down to the train depot!”, was a signal an adventure might be afoot.
A decade later, the call might come that we should go to the airport and watch the planes take off and land. Sort of an interesting distinction there.
Both were prompts of impending out-of-the-ordinary exploits, but only the train seemed to be all about the transition of leaving. We would dress for dinner and head out to the old C&EI station.
There was a decent restaurant there that made good hamburgers and wonderful hot chocolate sundaes. It was all a big treat. Occasionally we would even hop on a northbound passenger and take a short trip to Hoopeston and visit cousins.
Once you got my Dad started you never know where you might end up.
Open to us was a whole new world.
Bob Jones died shortly after finishing this post on July 14 2020.