“Why draw a map to someplace we know we’re not going?”

(I’ll tell you why!!!)

I recently read this quote by a respected geriatrician and author of information for older adults,  “Why draw a map to someplace we know we’re not going?”

I’ll tell you why;

because as we age we realize that our journey can be more important than “getting there”.  In a culture that glorifies the star, the amazing, the brilliant, the glitter, the large collections (of money), the dramatic, and the hero, what a remarkable revelation it is for us older adults to understand that the people who accompany us – our kids-our family-our friends, our noticing of brilliantly colored birds and majestic old trees out the windows of our train, the accomplishing of the minutia that make life possible, gratitude expressed for a cheerful smile from a stranger, art and music that excites, that sooths, that recalls, the spirit of God that is everywhere, and the cats, dogs, and horses that fulfill our life, are what really make a positive difference in our daily lives.

I was impressed by Garrison Keillor’s review of the book “Norman Rockwell, the Storyteller” by Deborah Solomon (December 19, 2013 New York Times).  Garrison wrote, “Toward the end, at 84, in and out of dementia, unable to work, [Norman Rockwell] still was wheeled into the studio every day to listen to classical music, wash his brushes, arrange his stuff, putter around, do everything but paint.”

That made me wonder instead of the word “paint”, what descriptive word or phrase in the Garrison’s sentence could follow the words, “do everything but paint” for you and me? (i.e. … do everything but actually stand in front of my own class and teach.)

All of this reminded me of a Christmas letter my wife and I received the other day from a friend and one of the best fighter pilots I have known, who, along with his wonderful wife continue to face serious medical difficulties.  He wrote not one word about his military career or that of his two accomplished pilot children or of trips abroad, but instead wrote only of the ordinary aspects of his several family members – the really meaningful dimensions of his life’s journey.

As my wife and I read this friend’s Christmas letter and commented on his changing focus, I asked how can a younger person, in their 40s or 50s say, even notice how important is the journey itself for older adults.  My wife said, nonchalantly, “They can’t”  They have not been here yet.

Perhaps we older adults need to help each other share our maps to wherever we might be going, we know the more delightful routes, we know the wonderful joys of nature and nurture to look for, and we know to trust in God’s presence in our family and friends to join us on our journeys.

Bruce