# 51 Hitting a Brick Wall

Ow! Ow! Ow!

I just hit a brick wall.

These days seniors like us hit many brick walls Some because of health and age issues. Some because of financial problems. The wall I hit was about a relationship.

In my 80+ years of life I have learned much about getting through tough spots. Persistence and prayer usually work. But a brick wall? Butting my head against a brick wall can just get me hurt … not through it. If I keep trying I just get angry and bitter. Not good. I want to live my geezer years in joy!

Why is there a brick wall between me and the person, (a woman) in the relationship? There could be one of two reasons. The obvious reason is that the other person wants no more of me. Forcibly trying to break through that wall would be harassment. I don’t want that. But there is another possibility. It could be that God put the brick wall there because I was getting hurt in the relationship and God was watching my back. Butting my head against a wall that God built is dumb and stupid.

Is there another way? Another way to live my geezer years in joy? Yes there is but there is a little pain involved. I need to change, like look and move in a new direction. Change always requires a little pain … for a while … but it is good pain.

And so I look in a new direction. And see new people. And there are no walls.

I guess God has my back!

How am I doing? Leave a comment. Click share to share with friends. Click follow make .sure you see the next post.

See my books and stories on Doug Olsen’s Author Page

https://amazon.com/author/dougolsen

Photo by cousin Harvey George

 

 

#48 Life is an Omlet

Again … I’m writing this post from my friend Pam’s apartment. in Providence , Rhode Island. The Big Little. It’s 3 am and I’m having breakfast. An omelet left over from yesterday, reheated in the microwave. OMG it’s fabulous.

 

Some of you may never had an omelet so great it was still scrumptious heated over the next day.

 

So … when I realized that … I realized that the LIFE of a person is like an omelet.

 

Really? Sure! First there is the rather “pure” individual who lives a life like a “simple” omelet. A simple omelet is a couple of eggs wisked with a little milk and gently heated in a frying pan. Then slid onto a plate and maybe seasoned with a little salt and pepper. Nourishing, but certainly not exciting.

 

A few people add a couple of more ingredients to their omelets, (to their lives.) Maybe they like a little chopped onions or parsley. It’s still pretty much like a 9-5 job. The world needs 9-5 people.

 

The omelets Pam and I make are like the lives we have led. Filled with all sorts of interesting stuff so that eating it is a rare experience. This morning’s omelet had eggs and milk of course. Plus! Chopped onions, chopped celery, sliced green olives, capers, spinach, prosciutto, and even a little bit of shredded cheese.

 

The strong flavors melded together into an experience. Fantastic! Even reheated the next day.

 

It’s “the next day” in Pam’s life and my life. And the memories remain alive like our omelet. Fantastic.

 

How is your omelet?

 

See my books and stories on Doug Olsen’s Author Page

https://amazon.com/author/dougolsen

# 47 Visit to a Friend

It is healthy for Biddies and Geezers like us to … once in a while … get out of our usual surroundings and get some “new” experiences. Gives us “New Life.” As I write this I’m visiting my Biddie friend (let’s call her) Pam in Providences, Rhode Island.

It’s early in the morning and I am up with a cuppa coffee. Pam is still abed and won’t be up until about 10 am. So I have time to contemplate some of the mysteries of life.

 

I slept on a futon in the living room and now in my robe and PJ’s I look around at Pam’s world.

 

Culture Shock! Despite the many things Pam and I have in common, there are things that are so different. Where my digs in Quincy, Mass are bare and Spartan, Pam’s are filled with stuff. Not only furniture and kitsch, but also flowers and living plants. And a white Persian cat. Longhaired. My reaction? It is as if I have awakened into a dream … another world.

 

And I remember that our histories are also different. Yet we are friends. Deep within my spirit I know we were meant to be … friends. No surprise then that our living surroundings are different. This speaks to my spirit at this early hour.

 

It says none of us are “complete” in ourselves but we need “others” to meld into our soul to create a “whole.” I realize the model of male/female for all new life is not an accident but a lesson. I realize it is a model for the greater miracle of new “spiritual life.” The melding of my spirit with the Spirit of God. How THAT happens is for another blog post, but for right now …

 

I look forward to today when Pam and I will share the joy of each other’s company and the adventure of togetherness. Then later I will return to my apartment. I will return refreshed to my Spartan digs in Quincy which are just right for me so I have no distractions as I scribble books and stories to you, my friends who are on the other side of my laptop screen.

 

Shalom!

See my books and stories on Doug Olsen’s Author Page

https://amazon.com/author/dougolsen

# 42 The Energy of Love

We may be getting older and losing some of our energy. But there is something about the energy of love we need to remember. Let me tell you a story about my friend Bob from several years ago.

There is no practical rationalization of Bob and his provision of firewood to me. There are many people in life that we may know that are acquaintances. But there are precious few that are truly friends.

Over a period of ten years both Bob and I were in financial difficulty, each for our own circumstances. At that time I was living on Quaker Hill, upstate New York. Knowing that I was continually short of hard cash, Bob took on the assignment to gather cut, split, deliver and stack up firewood for me to use in my wood stove. He did this as a gift to me. The firewood saved me megabucks in fuel oil. I do not know how I would have avoided possible bankruptcy without his gift of firewood.

But Bob was an old geezer like me. He could not move too swiftly anymore, especially on the very physical tasks of dragging logs out of the woods and making firewood. There were a lot of young bucks in our area that had all sorts of equipment and lots of energy and make a living providing economical firewood for country folk like us. Even so, I would not have been able to afford their prices. On the other hand, Bob took about four times as long to deliver a cord of wood, and the effort he put into it was almost certainly ten times that of a commercial woodman.

What’s the wood worth that Bob gave me?

What’s it worth? The wood is nothing! Sure, I appreciated the wood, but it was the loving kindness of his gift that mattered. He struggled day after day to get the wood to me. That is something nobody can pay for! It came from his heart. It is priceless!

Now, what did I have after I burned up the wood? Not just ashes. There was something else remaining from Bob’s loving kindness. Something that did not burn up with the wood.  You can’t see it or touch it.

There is a quotation from The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery where the Fox tells the Prince, “It is only with one’s heart that one can see clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Bob’s thoughts of loving kindness began somewhere, were in our here and now for a moment, and then went somewhere that has no space or time. They are forever. The thoughts have in fact been multiplied. They were good when he had these thoughts, but when I received the gift of them and the wood, they were multiplied. I had thoughts of loving kindness myself.

And now I pass them on to you, my Biddies and Geezers. By your deeds you can pass them on. Multiplied.

See my books and stories on Doug Olsen’s Author Page

https://amazon.com/author/dougolsen

 

 

# 29 Living Simply

Living simply is essential for my creativity to flourish. My 1 bedroom apartment in Quincy is as bare as a cave. I have learned that for me … Clutter is the Killer of Creativity. My friend Lynette lives in a “nest” filled with “things.”

I just returned from a visit to my friend Lynette. She lives in a 1 bedroom apartment is Riverside, Rhode Island. It’s near Providence. The plan was for me to come down on the train that arrived about noon. She would collect me at the Providence station. We would drive to her place, have a simple meal, and I would catch a late-afternoon train back to Boston and then the MBTA, (we call it the “T”), back home. Didn’t happen.

Here’s what went down:

We started out great. Just as I emerged from the station lobby, Lynette drove up. I climbed in the car, gave her a kiss and we drove off to Riverside, about 15 minutes away. Then, within minutes, we were savoring complex gastronomic pleasures from earthy food and wine. Simply prepared but knowledgeably selected. Lynette does THAT simple well.

The food? Steamer clams boiled in a broth of beer, garlic, onions, and celery. Also a pasta salad made with mayo, celery, and onions. And hot dogs on buns with mustard and sauerkraut or chili peppers. And then a white wine, an Italian Pinto Grigio that complemented all the flavors and crowned the simple feast as a meal for royalty. Simple, inexpensive, yet superlative.

Lynette and I each shared our recent events. It was healing for both of us. Then it was time for me to begin my return journey. Lynette checked the radio for the traffic report. Bummer! The highway was a parking lot. Trying to get me back to the train would destroy all of the good feeling our simple visit had generated.

“Why not stay the night?” she asked, “I’ll take you to the train on my way to work at 10 am tomorrow. There will be no traffic.” I agreed, intending to write in the living room while Lynette watched her soaps and slept in her bedroom. Didn’t work. The sound of the TV soaps drifted out of the bedroom and my eye roamed around viewing the clutter of her nest. No creative thoughts. I finally lay my head down on the couch and slept until it was time to get up and return to Quincy.

Back in my clutterless cave I am writing up a storm. Again. But I realize this because of my visit to Lynette. During our simple meal, the clutter of my mind had been cleared and swept clean. Creativity flourished.

Thank you, Lynette.

See all my books and stories on Doug Olsen’s Author Page

https://amazon.com/author/dougolsen