I celebrated my eighty-first birthday this past January thirteenth.
Just nineteen more journeys for the big bright wheel in the sky to turn before this curmudgeon reaches the centennial milestone.
A rumor circulates (akin to thick blood), that the first hundred years the most difficult.
The previous decade sped by in an unbelievable lightning speed blur and kaleidoscope of color.
The coterie of grandchildren (Arial, Castellar, Cooper Black, Georgia, Pristina, Ravie, Rockwell, and Vivaldi) apprised me as their favorite Zayda.
I also found himself extremely font per each special lass and/or lad) of their trials and tribulations.
Each lovely biological kin appeared significantly more mature while only prepubescent striplings.
Although barely fresh from childhood, each lad and lass belied that automatic biased presumption toward those entering adolescence.
This thrifty Pennywise (albeit pound foolish) papa i.e. mister mom of Eden Liat and Shana Aubrey tried his level best to guide his two lovely daughters toward to foster self-reliance.
Despite an evident developmental delay in the youngest of my girls, she evinced healthy resilience against her struggle with pervasive cognitive adversity and amazingly married a charming chap who fathered a brood of very smart prolific offspring.
No doubt genetic predisposition toward intelligence got transferred from this former mister mom.
Analogous to a microscopic Olympic torch occurred whereby the eldest of mine deux darlings invariably bestowed supreme mental prowess vis a vis via that double helix deoxyribonucleic acid strand incorporating the chromosomes housing above average aptitude.
At an extremely young age, the oldest Harris heiress exhibited inherent intellectual grasp that would be no match for a doctoral faculty member, which prowess essentially exempted her from formal education.
She essentially performed the equivalent of an academic leapfrog and graduated summa cum laude while in the throes of puberty.
Countless scholarships quickly found her opting for an alternative, homey, nonestablishmentarian classroom college environment in Oregon. This choice to earn one degree after another (in quick succession) at one prestigious university (within the Beaver state) arose in part so she could be in close proximity to Gadshill farm.
Ever since our reserved quiet twelve-year-old princess boarded that first solo flight with US Airways (taking a seat in the plane as an unaccompanied minor), that gung-ho gal spent the first of many summers since 2009 cavorting with cousins Ansley and Marleigh, the latter received (spot on) high honors (from Cambridge University) denoting excellency from none other than Stephen Hawking in Mathematics, Information Sciences, and Engineering.
Shari and Andy Dunning adored, delighted, gratified and jubilantly maintained parental support validating this “star student” and the apple of mine myopic eyes.
Confidence, fearlessness, inspiration against adversity and the ability to foster know how when challenged with (what at first blush appears) insurmountable obstacles bred a sense that je nais sais quois emotional durability.
The firstborn former infant baby (who cried inconsolably upon immediately exiting the birth canal) got wrought into the epitome of august capability to weather emotional conditions with prune netted aplomb just like Jack in the Corner of storybook fame.
Admiration (albeit tinged with envy) toward this progeny who evinced pride (without prejudice), love and friendship, sense and sensibility found this doting dada wrestling with his woebegone past bereft of such healthy progression to manage on his own until well into deux score plus one decade of mortality.
Within the psyche of this writer, an ability to enjoy the rich plump fruits of opportunity (beckoning curious, inquisitive, rambunctious youth) got overridden by apprehension, caution, eradication, et cetera goading immobilization.
I now know that the calculus of existence (sans the absolute value incorporating maturation with healthy supportive risk-taking of quantum formulaic leaps) to be supremely necessary for secure adulthood.
Thy first borne unwittingly served as the catalyst to foist exposure to risk situations prone to instigate generalized anxiety. The wonders of pharmacological discovery in tandem with revolutionary implantations (to offset an excess of bio-chemical agents) plus
widespread acceptance of stem cell research found this once reluctant guinea pig less predisposed to those panic attacks.
They well nigh emotionally paralyzed me way back during mine own teenage years, when severe psychological despair witnessed pitfall into the throes of suicide via starvation.
Ironic that braggadocio of sorts and willingness to be a warrior for those plagued with mental health challenges in general and/or obsessive/compulsive disorder in particular (essentially the flip side to aforementioned malady) boosted the ability to enjoy existence (mine) greater than ever before.
Rather than mourn grievous indelible psychic scars (from any permanent damage upon physical development), this purpose-driven mortal three score plus aged male discovered self-actualized enlightenment thru gentle nudging of thine beautiful classy darling princess.
No longer susceptible to experience that bleak house melancholic sensation epitomized by the tune boulevard of broken dreams (one favorite song this Zayda could identify composed by that iconic 1990’s band “Green Day”), I felt exuberantly alive life some young buck.
Matter of fact Verdana, the second wife (decades younger than thyself, yet who wantonly pledged her troth to (what many younger gals might refer to as an old jaded fogy) infused unbridled supreme happiness. She willingly bore this gray-haired nonestablishmentarian senior citizen banker (who felt like a stoop a fied precocious lad), especially upon rejoicing in sharing the process of procreation.
Natural childbirth (i.e. the preference to cull the services of a midwife) evinced pride in this indomitable new dada toward his fluke encounter (via electronic pairing) with a gal who seemed the embodiment of his fantasy angel, muse, soul mate, et cetera.
Quite the norm these days to witness generation gaps between fecund females espoused to gentlemen without taboo of so-called robbing the cradle.
Somewhat odd of course that twice this married man (the first – Abby -- he divorced due to that catch-all phrase irreconcilable differences) fathered progeny close in years to those who considered this ole codger of a granddad way too old to enjoy sex.
Societal taboos against intercourse considerably lessened, whereby supermarkets plainly proffered (discreetly) prophylactics and provided reading material for those waiting in the checkout aisle.
Openness most apparent on television (and other mass media milieu) with anchor persons offering tidbits about how to arouse, enhance, inspire, et cetera sexual pleasure with the so-called significant other no matter of the same or opposite gender.
Physicians underscored to their patients, the multifaceted value that caressing, fondling, inducing libidinal orgasm reduces numerous health quandaries in later stages of existence in addition to boosting energy to boot.
Sometimes a male and female doctor invited sexual therapists.
These professionals in toto actually stripped off their clothes to assist the partners in foreplay prior to engendering orgasmic excitement. The significant age difference between this randy two score plus one year old and his beloved bride worn like a red badge of honorable courage. Earlier during those rutting for prom time frequently envisioned a May/December wedding.
Bio-medical revelations with attendant breakthroughs per sustaining near youthful libido held promise that longevity could prevail well beyond two hundred years. Mortality kept at bay via holistic lifestyle accompanied with organically grown foods.
Nonetheless, genetic testing in addition to ultrasound revealed the presence of severe disabilities (early in the first trimester) whereby legal means existed to terminate an unwanted pregnancy.
Aside from the availability of abortion, society willingly accepted euthanasia, mercy killing, et cetera for terminally ill or those who sought suicide as a remedy to any mental, psychological, social malady, et cetera pruned the world population whereby minimal environmental footprints fostered eco-centric paradigm and nearly pristine planet Earth.
This oblate spheroid received the equivalent of an environmental makeover after a brush with terrestrial extinction when unleashed nuclear weapons fired off by a rogue state, fortunately, got annihilated with stealth bomber that smoked out the near of organic life of mankind, and most other flora and fauna.
I celebrated my eighty-first birthday this past January thirteenth.