Sunday

 Yesterday evening I was invited to attend a puja at the home  of a friend.  Her family does this every few years, and I’m always honoured when I’m included!  I’d first met her when I moved to Ottawa 23 years ago, and in that time I’ve watched her sons grow up — including when she announced her pregnancy with her younger son, who just celebrated his 18th birthday!  Time flies, doesn’t it?  Don wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so he allowed me to drive — something he’s cautious about since my pain and tiredness can get bad quickly and he’s protective of me.  Jerry was annoyed that I was out yesterday without him, and when I got home (around 8:30pm) he decided to sulk at me until bedtime, when he wanted to play!  My sugar dropped low again around 1:30am, so I had to get up and eat some chocolate, then back to bed with a dog who suddenly needed petting!!  I didn’t fall asleep until almost 4, and I’m a little foggy today.  Now I’ve got a small dog on my toes, carefully watching me so I don’t sneak out without him!

A few years ago I read an article on an interview with a favourite author, call him RJ.  He was writing a long multi-book series, and readers were impatiently waiting for the next instalment, and were griping on chats about the delay.  He said that (I summarize and paraphrase) authors don’t owe readers anything, and they are under no obligation to write things to fit reader wishes.  Sounds harsh, but what he went on to explain was that in writing any decent material, there will be people who don’t like what you’ve written, or who will want different outcomes for characters.  If, he continued, a writer were to change their stories to meet all of the readers’ demands, not only would the stories never be told, but they’d be paralyzed by conflicting wishes.  Makes sense when you think about it — while I’d prefer a different ending for a book, another reader might want something else, and it could turn into an endless series of changes resolving nothing.  (I can think of several scenes in books or movies that I’d prefer to happen differently and I’m sure everyone has their own selection)  

I think that we’d all like to tell our own stories with us as the main hero who goes through adventures but always wins and has a happy ending, whatever that looks like.  In one of my books this week, it was pointed out that youth has a lot of potential, and their lives are as yet undefined, but the elderly have a life of reality, in which there are accomplishments completed.  If we live well, our accomplishments outnumber our regrets, so there’s no envy of youth.  Another author commented that the old hate and envy the young because there’s so many things to do that can’t be finished.  What do you think of these points of view?  I’m not yet at the stage of sitting contentedly looking back on my achievements even as I wonder what more can I contribute to life. I don’t hate the youth — I honestly have no desire to relive the uncertainty and self-doubt that plague life under 30.  It’s yet another reminder of the importance of being present in one’s life, and doing your best to do all that you’re capable of while you can.  Or, as my late grandmother used to say, “don’t keep putting things off until later.  Later comes sooner than you realize.”  (A wise woman, she was.)

Having dispensed that wisdom for today, I’m going to enjoy supper and try to plan something fun for the next little while (with due care for my back)  Expect emails or calls suggesting meetups over the near future!  Good night!