Tag Archives: Old age

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Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Rolled Bead Cuff from Thailand

Rolled Bead Cuff from Thailand

When my father died, while we sat mourning, I read Dylan Thomas’ poem Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night.  Many a time since I have turned to that poem, because, for me, it is a call to action…a kick in the butt when self-pity begins to overwhelm me.

Yesterday, very late,  an interview for a job that I really wanted was cancelled by email. An interview that was booked for this afternoon. The reason for cancellation? They had filled the position. I am disappointed that the company chose to hire the second best candidate. As they had not taken the time to meet the best candidate, the result was unavoidable.

My search for full time employment is a year old this week. I knew it was going to be tough. You just have to read the headlines. This is an employers’ market – dozens of candidates for any open position. 590 people applied for a position I found a few months ago. I know this because the application process included a link to a “counter.”

Another strategy to which I turn when raging against the dying of the light is listing the positive things that I have experienced while on my quest:

  • The beaded cuff pictured was a gift from a friend who visited Thailand. It was made as a part of a project to teach children a trade to keep them off the streets and safe. I wear it to remind myself that there are others in truly dire situations.
  • The opportunity to care for the Octogenarian on a truly intimate level for the past year is a gift that I will cherish for the rest of my life.
  • The friends who continue to encourage, challenge and demand that I soldier on. Tough love. The best kind.
  • The students, strangers every one, who allowed me to share my passion for beading and for teaching, validating both.
  • The international group of readers who follow this blog. Writing for you is a privilege.
  • The newly found distant cousins  who share my DNA and curiosity about our shared ancestors. My world and my family have grown.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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As I watched dogs walking their people…

I was struck by the amount of inevitable sadness I witnessed walking past. The dog park that I pass every day is close to blocks of apartment where seniors and their pets reside.

Nearly every morning I pass an elderly lady and her equally elderly Scottie – Iona. Iona’s person walks with a cane in one hand and her lead in the other. Iona’s gait is that of an elderly dog with arthritic joints. Neither of them seem to notice their infirmities. Iona keeps her nose to the ground, doing the intellectual labor of a dog half her years. Iona’s person greets everyone she passes with a smile and “hello.”

On the other side of the street, a gentleman and his miniature collie step out. The dog is brushed for display and health. The person at the other end of the leash walks briskly. He is years away from needing a cane.

The two people and their dogs on opposite sides of the street have one thing in common – their canine companion. Their dogs get them out everyday among people. Their dogs ensure they take a stroll at least twice a day. Their dogs ensure their lives are not solitary. Their dogs give them purpose and love.

The two people may have busy lives filled with volunteer work and family. I am wrong to presume their dogs are their only joy. I believe I am not wrong when I imagined the inevitable sadness that will be their’s one day.  I think they wouldn’t have it any other way.