Longing for Lasts


Hello, everyone. It’s been a while since my last blog post. Since I last posted, I have turned 50, which is good, I guess. Not sure many people are happy about turning fifty except those that never had that chance. For that reason, I am happy to have reached the 50 mark.

I have five classes left to finish off before I can finish my college degree that I started almost 30 years ago. These last five will not be easy. Being impatient like I am, I chose to cram those last five classes into two summer sessions that will conclude in August. I keep my fingers crossed for continued scholastic success.

As I have gotten older, I still strive for first, but really, really long for lasts. I have reminisced about old times more and more. I often have told my wife how nice it would be if you knew at the time that you would be doing something for the last time.  When I think of those types of things, my mind wanders.

Here are just some of the lasts I miss:

  • The last time I went fishing with my grandpa, who has been gone 18 years already
  • The last time I went fishing with my Dad, who now lives far away
  • The last time I weighed under 200 pounds
  • The last time to hear any new music from Michael Jackson, Queen, Nirvana, the Beatles, or Prince
  • The last time I strapped on a football helmet
  • The last time I rode a school bus to school
  • The last time I had hair to feather
  • The last time riding home in a victorious team bus from an away football game
  • The last time my Mom took me to the orthodontist, accompanied by lunch soon afterward
  • The last time I read my daughter a bedtime story
  • The last time I petted any of the numerous dogs in my life
  • The last day of being a teenager
  • The last day before becoming an adult
  • The last time sitting around a dinner table with my Mom, Dad, and siblings

This list could go on and on. Funny. The other day, I stumbled upon a song by Brad Paisley entitled, “Last Time for Everything”. I must say I am not a huge fan of the video, but love the song. Take a listen and let me know what you think.

Thanks for the Memories


One thing that scares the hell out of me is losing my memory. I will soon be 48, thus my memory has started to fade a bit, but I don’t think it is anything to worry about at this point. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the fact that I am approaching the five decade mark of being on this earth and sometimes things get a bit fuzzy. Like so many of us that get caught up in our day-to-day lives, I don’t often take the time to sit back, relax, and reflect on my past.

Since I will soon be returning to college after a nearly 20-year hiatus, I worry about how well I will retain things in the classroom. Will my mind be able to remember everything that will be thrown my way. Unlike most of my soon-to-be classmates, I didn’t grow up with cell phones, computers, or the internet, which I don’t think is a bad thing.

Out of Touch

I worry about today’s youth and the seemingly lack of personal interaction they have with each other. My boss actually told me a story about how her daughter told her that it was rude to call someone on the phone. She said texting was the way to communicate so the other person could respond at their convenience and not be bothered by a phone call. Wow. Is that what our society has become?

Not this type of party line.

Not this type of party line.

Growing up in a rural community, I can still remember having a party line. No, not the phone lines you see advertised late at night prompting you to call so you can talk to young, attractive people. A party line was a phone line shared with neighbors. Sometimes you would pick up the phone to make a call, but you would not be able to do so because your neighbor was using the line. You had to wait until they were done before you could make your call. Maybe that has something to do with why I refuse to wait in lines at restaurants.

In my younger days, I did things that would be frowned upon today. Not bad things, but not the way people do things now.

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Fear Itself


67732_170443929633222_7912586_nWell, for the few of you that read my last blog, you know I was supposed to fly this weekend. This morning to be exact. It is now 5:44 a.m. My flight leaves at 6:55 a.m. I will not be on it, unfortunately. I have let fear stand in the way, again. I am not happy about it. I am not proud of it. It makes me very sad. I am really at a loss for words.

Fear Takes Over

I got up early this morning, still on the fence on whether I would fly or not. Not really. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t going to go, but I got up anyway to see if maybe there was some divine intervention that would prompt me to put my fears aside to allow me to live life. I realized that I am a coward. Not the kind of coward that hits women or harms animals, but one that is afraid of way too many things.


The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.
H. P. Lovecraft


As I typed away on the website of my airline in the cancellation process, I selected my flights, and before I clicked the cancel button I thought about it one last time. There was no going back. Once I clicked that button, my hopes of getting away to do something fun with family and friends would go out the window, but I did it anyway because of fear. Not because I didn’t want to see my friend who had moved to Denver or my parents who aren’t getting any younger, but because I was afraid of flying.

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