Worth a third look since I hung up two big sevens on my aging journey…
I am thankful at 75 I got up this morning. I am thankful that Jesus Christ has saved my soul. I am thankful that my wife has stood by me for 42 years, 11 months and 5 days.
I am thankful my adult children are loving and well employed. I am thankful my grandsons are healthy. Those little guys are loads, and heaps, and oodles of fun. I am thankful for the gift of laughter we share.
I am most thankful for the gift of love. When I was 32 I remember a Thanksgiving by myself with a t.v. dinner. Now I am surrounded by friends and loved ones. What once was one is now a family of seven. I love them all with all my heart. God bless ye one and all.
H. Robert Rubin, memoirist and author of Look Backward Angel, How Did I Get Through This? and Please Save the Third Dance for Me, two of which have been Amazon best sellers. All three are available on Amazon
“Great lovers have made great sacrifices.” Louis Auchincloss, a 20th-century American novelist. Sacrifices?
Last Friday, in a post-last pro match of his life interview, Roger Federer was being celebrated. When he responded about his family, he expressed appreciation that his wife Mirka allowed him to play tennis.
Imagine a spouse traveling with two boys and two girls in her charge, all over the world, for years, and accepting his time away to improve his world-renowned tennis game. No small task, even with fine accommodations and help.
I think in most marriages that last for decades, there is much heartache. But, on balance, great love, and sacrifice. Without the hand of God, our 45-year marriage may have lasted as long as my first, 12 months.
“Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape.” Bell Hooks, the late American author.
A good friend once told me as a student, don’t try to live with a woman until you learn to live with yourself. I hadn’t learned that lesson before my short-lived first marriage, but I did before my long-lived current marriage. I should have listened.
It is a long, arduous journey we take. Isn’t it? Mine would be far more difficult and far less joyful outside the hands of God.
“Mostly, we authors must repeat ourselves—that’s the truth. We have two or three great moving experiences in our lives—experiences so great and moving that it doesn’t seem at the time that anyone else has been so caught up and pounded and dazzled and astonished and beaten and broken and rescued and illuminated and rewarded and humbled in just that way ever before.” F. Scott Fitzgerald.
He was named after Francis Scott Key, a distant cousin. His father’s first cousin twice removed was Mary Suratt, hanged as a a conspirator in the assassination of Lincoln. His life included a schizophrenic wife, Zelda, a life long battle with alcoholism and death from a heart attack in his 40s.
Moving experiences? Funny, some of the things I remember vividly.
I was an average hitter without much power as a little leaguer. One day Tim Russ was pitching a no hitter with a blazing fastball. I held my breath, swung hopefully the instant he released the ball, and hit a ball over the glove of the leaping shortstop, Billy Fieldus, into the gap in left center field. The ensuing triple was the only extra-base hit of my entire, short lived, baseball career.
Why do I remember their two names? Why can I easily picture myself at bat that day?
Some moments in our lives just take on an extra level of intensity and joy. Such was that swing, some sixty five years ago.