When I think back about high school years, sporting black hair and only weighing 147 lbs, my perspective on life was to see it as wondrous, hopeful, and exciting. My project time frames were short (as far as next week), and my ideas unpredictable.
After the air force, marriage, and university, my perspective started to change considerably, to embrace mortality as a definite thing, and to accept living on an old farm and driving 47 kms twice a day to work in the city, as the way things were meant to be. The loss of our two children within about 11 years of each other, was not.
Then, in my 50s and 60s, after many jobs and more degrees, and especially after also losing friends to cancer, and my parents to a stroke and pneumonia, life seemed precious. Time began to speed up. Health issues further aggravated this encroaching “carpe deum” philosophy, and I suddenly found myself enjoying conversation like never before. Slowing down in every way was looking better. After all, I had taught university long enough, directed several colleges and departments, written over 40 articles and book chapters, and successfully (with blips) raised two healthy daughters, plus re-marrying 13 years ago.
I still live in the country though, and consult, write and cut grass. And have regular ‘happy hours’ whereby I can take a cold beer or a sherry onto the deck, look out over the river, and converse for hours with our long-time close friends who live with us. Statistically, I have 12.7 years left in this current corpus delecti, and my bucket list might be too long. But I am not caring about being dilatory, or not quick-on-the-board-game-draw; rather, I contemplate my perspective on life in hedonistic and altruistic terms. I like happiness from doing what I like doing, and I enjoy helping others who are struggling. I find I read happy books now, not tragedies or sad biographies. I hug my wife every chance I get, and hug strangers if I feel they need it.
So life perspectives change with time and experience, and the aphorism is true…life is what you make it. Mistakes and all, but keeping upbeat is crucial. At 71, I still want to climb a tree.