ENNUI BRINGS THE ANGST OF INSPIRATION

I am in my fourth year of retirement. It is a Sunday morning and a norther has swept through our beloved Brownsville. The weatherman has promised overcast skies, cool temperatures and occasional rain. That's fine with me. I don't miss the hot days and I'm looking forward to my walks along Hudson Trails.

I have been an athlete and exercise buff my whole life, but there are times when I want to throw in the towel, return to my corner, sit on the stool and never rise again. Fortunately, these instances of surrender are rare and my system begins to react negatively--more mentally than physically--from the inaction. I climb off the canvas and begin to dance around the ring again. I have a faith in hope, but you won't be able to consummate your chance when opportunity comes knocking in you're a physical wreck.

Though I don't perform the feats of my youth, I recognized the other day that if walking is a physical challenge, then we are declining fast. When you can no longer walk for an hour daily without complaining of discomfort and exhaustion, you are on a downward spiral. If you don't do any other exercise, walk. And walk with enthusiasm. Maintain a brisk pace and keep those arms pumping.

Retired, I don't have anything I have to do. Fortunately, I don't have grandchildren to push around in carts at HEB. I find it sad when my old colleagues tell me that nothing compares to spending time with the grandkids. I would hate to think that I had been sentenced after working all my life to babysitting. But I suppose if you don't have artistic talents, you have to exhibit love to all those around you to find some worth in their appreciation for your unselfish ways. When you die, they will take to the internet and tell their friends that nothing excited you more than the Cowboys and that you will be missed for your infinite kindness.

I wasn't programmed that way. Sometimes nothing is better than something. I have my three sons, but I no longer occupy an important role in their lives. As one would expect, they have departed for their own destinies and I take comfort in knowing that I did the best I could by providing them with solid foundations from which they could build their own lives.

I am not living like a hermit, but I have embarked on a solitary existence. I am going through a withdrawal as I adapt to my unexpected changed circumstances, but I put one foot in front of the other, breathe deeply and move forward. I keep in mind that if we were dead but offered the chance to relive one meaningless day in our past existence, we would jump at the opportunity. 

I could die tomorrow and it wouldn't be a big deal. I could disappear tonight and the search would be called off in two or three days. In many respects, I am here and nothing more. If I could eliminate the anxiety that pervades my system, I would be at total peace, but if that were the case, I would be reduced to an elderly babysitter who never walked.

Perhaps anxiety is my salvation. Perhaps it's the edge that I need. If I feel the blade cutting too close to the bone, I can take a Xanax and go to sleep. When I awake, I am in better shape than when I went to sleep.

I am lucky that I have my intellectual and musical pursuits that save me from self-destruction. I am still committed and enraptured by learning. I never stop reading, I never stop in my futile endeavor to master Spanish, Portuguese and French with both Italian and Latin waiting in the wings if I decide I don't have enough on my plate. Playing the guitar and tennis delight me with the faint delusion that I could become better in both. These are distractions that are a part of my flow.

But here is the absolute bottom line: I don't have to do anything besides eat, shit and maintain my hygiene, the last an option I could eliminate if I were terminating my relationship with humanity. I don't believe I would choose that course because there are cleaner and quicker methods for terminating one's relationship with humanity.

As I mentioned earlier, my two big boys are on their own and my youngest son receives his child support and social security checks in the mail that cover his financial needs. I could throw caution to the wind and permanently move to Brazil and their lives would not be affected in the least by my absence. They might pine for the old man at times and wish they were sharing a meal and bullshitting about a score of subjects with him covering the bill, but these melancholy moments would fade into the mists that cloud every mind.

What are my priorities then? Do I sit in the lotus position all day and vegetate? I have two goals that I have to accomplish. I must write and I must exercise. Goal number one I'm bringing to its conclusion now. I'm crossing the street in a few minutes to HEB Plus to buy food for lunch. I'll read while my meal digests and in the middle afternoon I'll commence a 90-minute walk along the Hudson Trails. And when I hit the sack this evening, I can sleep peacefully knowing that I imbued this brisk Sunday in the month of December with meaning derived from accomplishment.