We Never Outgrow Our Usefulness - Part 1

(*Note: Part 2 will follow)

Since I fell off a ladder a couple years ago, and fractured my ankle, I have slept in my old recliner. You see, after surgery to repair the damaged joint, and the administration of an ankle to knee cast, I could not get comfortable in my bed; thus resorting to the chair. Instead of going to bed each night, as my wife is prone to say,

…I went to chair.

Of course, the cast has long since been removed from my ankle, but somehow the mindset which dictates I sleep in my chair at night lingers.

You can imagine how multiplied hours over multiplied years sleeping in that old chair has contributed to its less than perfectly perfect condition. Recently a couple of metal parts fell out the bottom of the chair, and as a result the seat developed a pot hole of sorts. At least, it has sunk a few inches in the area in which I tend to put my, well, you know.

And thus, a couple of days ago I vowed to drag my trusty old “Archie Bunker” to the road for the trash man to pick up. (While the TV character’s chair is in the Smithsonian, I’m not all that convinced they’re in the market for a duplicate from the likes of me). My decision to dispatch my recliner was further “set in concrete” when my neighbors offered to give me their unused, but serviceable recliner.

And thus, I sat down on my old utilitarian instrument this morning, for what I purposed would be the last time. I grabbed the handle and pushed it into the “feet-up” position, and suddenly the chair

…rocked!

Feet up. Back and forth. Up and down. As if it were suspended in mid-air. Very curious, and pleasant sensation. Rather like a teeter-totter.

Readers, I can tell you my resolve to cast the chair into outer darkness disappeared like fog in the morning. As a matter of fact, I believe that old hunk of fabric, wood and metal may have suddenly soared to the top of my list of sit down furniture.

Apparently, the loss of several parts, and the subsequent readjustment of the remaining parts have impacted its internal structure, and caused it to do something it was never designed to do.

And it occurs to me that aging people are like that old recliner.

For some their “golden years” seem less than golden. They are challenged physically, mentally, financially, and relationally. Not unlike my old chair; as part after part dropped to the floor.

And yet, so much like my old recliner, its usefulness remained, (though somewhat surprisingly, its function metamorphosed a bit).

Elderly people have something tangible to offer. We never really outgrow our usefulness; no matter how old, and tattered we get. At least, not if we maintain a healthy mindset, and if those who surround us reciprocate, and do the same.

Oh, we may not be able to do all the things we used to do, and our very mission in life may undergo significant change,

…but we’re simply not finished, and we simply must not quit. I mean, I’m thirty, (as long as I stay away from mirrors).

Speaking of recliners, prior to my father’s passing he enjoyed sitting in his own “Archie Bunker;” watching birds as they splashed in his backyard birdbath, and eyeing his “pet” 10 foot alligator, as it floated listlessly on the pond which bordered his property. My mother would attempt to get him to go with her to lunch, or visit a relative, to which he would consistently respond, “No, not today. I’m tired. Ask one of your girlfriends to go with you.”

We know now that my dad experienced several mini-strokes prior to his death, and as a result, his personality changed, and as a result, he often mused,

“Erma, haven’t I worked hard all my life?” To which my mother nodded in the affirmative.

and

“Well, I’m not doing it anymore. I’m gonna sit back and relax now!”

And relax he did.

For almost without fail as I would walk into his house, during those last few years of his life, I would catch him nodding off in his favorite chair by the window. And I would remark,

“Henry, wake up! They’ll be plenty of time for sleeping!” (And I was referring to “the long sleep”).

My friends, aged people have something to offer. And it involves much more than nodding off in an easy chair, and waiting to die.

To be continued...

 

(By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 4)