I just realized that I haven’t written a blog since (gulp!) February! Two whole months and another half a month have passed with intentions to write something. When I plan out my week on my little “Weekly Worksheet” grid, I always write “Blog” at the top of the Tuesday column, but it seems that other priorities squeeze that plan out. It obviously hasn’t come to the attention of even one other person that nothing new has shown up in this post for all that time, so I’m more convinced than ever that I can write whatever the heck I want in complete assurance that it might as well be tossed into Dante’s Inferno or a black hole millions of light years away since nobody will ever discover my thoughts.
Lately I’ve been pondering “end-of-life” stuff. At 78 years of age (only two more years before I’ll be 80 [quite the math wizard, am I not?]) I have to wonder if what I’m experiencing is the ever-so-slowly closing of the doors of my life. I’ve been asking myself, “Is this what it’s like to be slipping away?”
“Exactly what indicators are you referring to?” you might ask. Thanks for that. For one thing, I’m noticing that I’m managing to alienate neighbors and others one by one. I really should make a chart with the names of the people who no longer want to have anything to do with me. I’ll admit, this is a hard pill to swallow. I’ve always considered myself to be a pleasant enough person to be around, someone willing to help out when asked, and someone with a pastor’s heart when it comes to caring about those facing difficult circumstances. However, that’s apparently not enough for some people.
I’ve probably talked about this in other contexts before, so please forgive the repetition. (Who do I think I’m talking to? I don’t have to ask forgiveness of anybody since nobody’s even reading this!) I guess it all started when college friend Scott Campbell turned the “off” switch on our communications. I haven’t heard from him in months with the much-appreciated exception of an email this year (2025) wishing me a happy birthday and updating us on his wife, Lin, who was dealing with the aftermath of a second stroke. I responded to thank him and ask about his grandsons who live with them, but, as of this writing, have heard nothing. When a friendship that had spanned decades suddenly shrivels up like that, I start to question what there is about me that makes people decide to have nothing to do with me.
Then there’s Arlene, the Neighbor Next Door. Her husband Rich is at least cordial, but Arlene is perfectly content to have no interaction with me whatsoever. Some time ago I walked out to our back deck to take Kianna for a walk and saw Arlene ascending the steps to her back door. I called “Hello” to her, but, without even turning around, she just waved me off and said, “Hi, Karl,” as though it were a forced effort. Another door closing. Do we start to disconnect with people as we make our way to the other side of Jordan? By the time we die, is there anybody around who really gives a damn?
As I’m writing this, I do recall having pondered this very question before, because, as I remember former close friends John and Ruthie Bond, I remember having discussed their friendship-departure before in this blog. I sent a greeting card to them recently and added the note, “Sure do miss you guys” or something to that effect. That note resulted in nothing but crickets. Why are we so easy to drop? And without one word of explanation?
I’m pretty sure I insulted our auto-mechanic neighbor Mike recently. He replaced some burned-out lights on Karlyn’s car for her, saving us a trip to a repair shop. The lights cost $28.00, so I took the “figuring a tip for a wait-person” approach. I rounded up the $28.00 to $30.00, multiplied by 20 % ($6.00) and then rounded up the $34.00 to $35.00. I thought I was being generous. When I gave him the check, he said, not quite under his breath and as though shrugging his shoulders, “Yeah, well, I ran around to find the lights and all, but, OK.” Clearly insulted. In all honesty, it never occurred to me that $6.00 was a pittance for the work he did – my head was still on the 20% thank-you. Recently I wrote him a note and said I’d been thinking about that whole transaction and realized that I hadn’t shown much gratitude. I enclosed a check for $50.00 that I hoped in some small way would convey my appreciation. I’ve got to get in touch with him soon because he had offered to check out the brakes on our van and so I gave him the van key. I’m pretty sure he’s no longer interested in doing anything for this cheapskate, but I still need to get my key back.
And that’s the way it’s been going. One by one, people are basically flipping the bird in my direction and writing me off. The only explanation I can come up with is that I’m supposed to pare down the number of people with whom I’m in good stead before I shuffle off. Maybe it’s supposed to make it easier for me to cross the heavenly threshold? Does everybody go through this?
It kind of hurts.