January 11, 2014
My birthday is a few days after the turning of the year, and so each New Year I get a double whammy: a new year with all its promises, and the fact that I am a year older. This year with my 71st birthday it hit me that there are many more grains of sand in the bottom of the hour glass than in the top– I am indeed growing older… and that this is an hour glass that I will not be able to turn over and start again. (Of course, Shirley MacLaine may be right and I may already have lived a number of lives.)
How long might I live? Should I look to my family tree?
Both my parents died in their early eighties. My father had a hemorrhagic stroke followed by paralysis and dementia, and died of pneumonia. My mother who died a year after my father had a faulty heart valve and died of congestive heart failure. They spent much of their seventieth decade traveling extensively in Europe. One year they rented out their home and were gone for six months. My parents were frugal travelers, but they were intellectually curious, independent travelers, and I think if I could ask them, they would have no regrets about the money they spent for travel.
My paternal grandmother lived to a very healthy 97. When she was 96, she flew with my aunt to the East Coast to see me and my family. Her mind and body were in excellent shape right to the end. She was writing her memoirs when she was 96. There is a possibility that the sands in the hour glass will last that long for me, too. And barring a major breakdown in government pensions and stock markets, my funds will last. But my health may not.
I have been reflecting on the fact of the dwindling sands of time this week, because I have been composing a list of all the home repairs and improvements that should be done or that I would like to have done. On another paper is the list of all the places that I would like to travel; I have been very fortunate to have traveled widely in my life, especially over the past seventeen years, but travel is my passion. I consider it an essential part of my continuing education. Do I spend my limited resources on my home? Or do I spend the minimum on my home, and push my travel up to two big trips a year, while I still am well and strong? One of my widow friends laughed when I posed the question. “If we knew the future,” she said, “then we would know how to spend our money.”
I think I will follow my parents’ example, and travel as much as I can, while I can. Home improvements, beyond the necessary essential repairs, can wait.
Carpe Diem