Johnny D. Symon
On wings like the eagle
By Johnny D. Symon
(First published October 25, 2004)
Country music star Tim McGraw has sold near one million copies of "Live Like You Were Dying," yet it's been out just two or three weeks. There's something that appeals to many music lovers from the song's sentiments, but as much as I'm a fan of Tim McGraw and others (especially Alan Jackson), this new one cuts across my personal lifetime philosophy.
I went skydiving,
I went rocky mountain climbing,
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu
And I loved deeper,
And I spoke sweeter,
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denyin' ...
Some day I hope you get the chance,
To live like you were dyin' ...
The one thing that is a constant annoyance to me is a celebrity who cranks up societies, charities, and foundations simply because their partner caught AIDS and died, or his child contracted leukemia, or he has been diagnosed as having Alzheimer's and so has set up a foundation due to his own personal experience and trauma. It's this particular mindset that gets me irritated. I don't need a dark patch on an x-ray to make me finally decide to start livin'. I don't need to have a loved one discover they have cancer to make me aware of the need for cancer research!
The way I see it is, if you reach your forties without having "lived," then you're a sad case, and if by that age you ain't skydived or climbed mountains, you've never been in the military. Leaving the "bull named Fu Manchu" to the side (as riding bulls isn't standard boot camp training¯at least from my experience), there's a lot of living to be had and very little excuse not to take advantage of it.
I knew an English guy some years back who graduated from dental college in his early twenties and hardly has held down a job since. He told me that gazing into people's mouths every day was pure hell. His wife worked in a bank, despite the fact that she was hopelessly illiterate and unlearned. Through field glasses he watched her leave in the car for work in the morning and watched her return in the evening. The space in between was taken up by excessive sauce-mongering: He would hit the bottle around nine in the morning and by the end of the day he would send his wife out to buy him more booze. His part of the deal was to light the log fire!
Using his handy prismatics, he more or less knew everything that went on in the town, or so he believed, therefore he was an eager conversationalist when his lady arrived home. And, women being women, she was more than ready to hear the gossip. He drank and she gobbled. I loved them lots, but they had much to learn about the art of living. Neither of them, as far as I know, have climbed mountains or jumped out of planes or, least of all, ridden bulls.
"Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end
Will the day's journey take the whole day?
From morn till night, my friend."
— Christina Rossetti
It's funny how life can just pass people by. They look over their shoulder one day, and trailing on into the distant past is the bitter sum and substance of their lives. They look forward and there appears a short trip to the grave.
So goes one of life's tricks ... When you're a kid you're a god, you're a demon, you're invincible, you're eternal. You feel part of a special club that consists of fresh-faced, bouncy young-bloods. Your parents and your grandparents belong to another solar system¯you just can't imagine that one day in the future you'll look in the mirror and see a faint glimpse of your grandfather or grandmother staring back at you. This experience comes to all of us eventually, but it comes to all of us in one of two ways:
When that special encounter manifests itself and you feel warm inside and happy to be alive, then it's certain that you have made the most of your time on the planet. You'll look over your shoulder and like what you see. You gave it your best shot, you took to livin' right off the bat, and when you look ahead you just see one more day of golden opportunities awaiting your company. You understand that you and tomorrow are "partners in time"!
Although I'm making reference to the use of the human eye and sight, in Spain lives a famous sculptor. He's been on TV quite a few times, and his exhibitions are very popular, and yet he learned his craft despite the fact he was born deaf, dumb, and blind! He learned about the shape and appearance of things solely by touch. He has never heard music, a dog bark, or a baby cry. He has never seen a tree or an automobile, yet he made himself famous through the quality and value of his work. He portrays the human form, dancing and spinning in a way that almost defies description.
Closer to home there are two other human gems named Manolo and Frasquita. Manolo is 82 years young and still in business as a saddle maker. Each morning at eight his workshop is open, and it's service with a smile. He doesn't think of death; instead he thinks long and hard about tomorrow's project as he completes today's. Frasquita, who lives further up town, set up in business as a shopkeeper at the age of 59 and 33 years later, she's still in business and jolly as ever at 92. I suspect that, apart from the fact that her business interests keep her going, some of her secret may be attributed to her cute sense of humor!
On the flipside of the coin lie the sad cases, people who never take risks, have never been out on a limb, and fail to realize that one more day of their lives wasted could have been better spent as a day added on to that seven-year-old kid down the block who died under the wheels of a bus. It's a cryin' shame how, although they're aware of such tragedies and that so far they've been spared, they still do not fully appreciate the essence and the gift of life. They turn on the faucet, and out pour the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks ... and there it all goes, down the drain and out to sea.
It's humanly possible to make the most of every waking minute, every drop of life, but it takes work.
"O dark valley, covered with night and mist, how long wilt thou keep me bound with thy chains? Better to die and abide under the shadow of the Almighty, than sit desolate in the seething waters.
"I discern them from afar, the hills of eternity, their ever-enduring summits clothed with garlands of bloom. O that I might rise on wings like the eagle, fly upward with my eyes, and raise my countenance and gaze into the heart of the sun!
"O Heaven, how beautiful are thy paths, they lead to where liberty reigneth ever. How gentle the zephyrs wafted over thy heights, who hath words to tell?"
— Rachel Morpurgo (1790-1860)
Some days ago the United Notions ("A perverse will easily collects together a system of notions to justify itself in its obliquity." — J. H. Newman) issued a press release proudly boasting their intent to regulate, within a legal framework, space travel and exploration! Not content with interfering in the affairs of Sovereign Nations through the novelty vote of primitive ones, whose subjects utilize box cutters on American airline pilots while being too stupid to design and build such items themselves, those collective dunce-nations are now self-appointed "Watchdogs of the Solar System."
About a year ago the United States offered food help to a starving nation in Africa, and it was refused because, they claimed, the grains were genetically modified. I guess I'm presenting the above examples to furnish my general argument in this editorial, that real livin' begins not with collective decision-making by failed socialist regimes, but by the true individual who puts his best foot forward every day and stretches the bounds of human endeavor.
I happen to know that many who read my column each week are likeminded individuals who have experienced hard roads and hard times, but did it their way. That's what life's all about. You recognize that the world does not owe you a living, and neither do governments. We make mistakes and we remedy them. We're individuals and authentic human beings. I made some dang-fool plans in my day, and caused myself suffering as a result, but through this I learned from my mistakes and recognized that I alone was to blame. It's an enriching experience, and years on I think back on those times with amusement. I made those mistakes because I made a decision to choose Life and Livin'.
I'm not perfect ... but I'm worlds apart in the human stakes from that lowlife Kofi Annan and his tribe of feeble-minded morons. They may have managed to regulate U.S. industry, and to regulate the ozone layer, and possibly to regulate outer space and the planets, but they're never going to regulate me and my life! Life's too precious and personal for that¯"from my cold, dead hands ..."
© Johnny D. Symon
March 29, 2010
(First published October 25, 2004)
Country music star Tim McGraw has sold near one million copies of "Live Like You Were Dying," yet it's been out just two or three weeks. There's something that appeals to many music lovers from the song's sentiments, but as much as I'm a fan of Tim McGraw and others (especially Alan Jackson), this new one cuts across my personal lifetime philosophy.
I went skydiving,
I went rocky mountain climbing,
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu
And I loved deeper,
And I spoke sweeter,
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denyin' ...
Some day I hope you get the chance,
To live like you were dyin' ...
The one thing that is a constant annoyance to me is a celebrity who cranks up societies, charities, and foundations simply because their partner caught AIDS and died, or his child contracted leukemia, or he has been diagnosed as having Alzheimer's and so has set up a foundation due to his own personal experience and trauma. It's this particular mindset that gets me irritated. I don't need a dark patch on an x-ray to make me finally decide to start livin'. I don't need to have a loved one discover they have cancer to make me aware of the need for cancer research!
The way I see it is, if you reach your forties without having "lived," then you're a sad case, and if by that age you ain't skydived or climbed mountains, you've never been in the military. Leaving the "bull named Fu Manchu" to the side (as riding bulls isn't standard boot camp training¯at least from my experience), there's a lot of living to be had and very little excuse not to take advantage of it.
I knew an English guy some years back who graduated from dental college in his early twenties and hardly has held down a job since. He told me that gazing into people's mouths every day was pure hell. His wife worked in a bank, despite the fact that she was hopelessly illiterate and unlearned. Through field glasses he watched her leave in the car for work in the morning and watched her return in the evening. The space in between was taken up by excessive sauce-mongering: He would hit the bottle around nine in the morning and by the end of the day he would send his wife out to buy him more booze. His part of the deal was to light the log fire!
Using his handy prismatics, he more or less knew everything that went on in the town, or so he believed, therefore he was an eager conversationalist when his lady arrived home. And, women being women, she was more than ready to hear the gossip. He drank and she gobbled. I loved them lots, but they had much to learn about the art of living. Neither of them, as far as I know, have climbed mountains or jumped out of planes or, least of all, ridden bulls.
"Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end
Will the day's journey take the whole day?
From morn till night, my friend."
— Christina Rossetti
It's funny how life can just pass people by. They look over their shoulder one day, and trailing on into the distant past is the bitter sum and substance of their lives. They look forward and there appears a short trip to the grave.
So goes one of life's tricks ... When you're a kid you're a god, you're a demon, you're invincible, you're eternal. You feel part of a special club that consists of fresh-faced, bouncy young-bloods. Your parents and your grandparents belong to another solar system¯you just can't imagine that one day in the future you'll look in the mirror and see a faint glimpse of your grandfather or grandmother staring back at you. This experience comes to all of us eventually, but it comes to all of us in one of two ways:
When that special encounter manifests itself and you feel warm inside and happy to be alive, then it's certain that you have made the most of your time on the planet. You'll look over your shoulder and like what you see. You gave it your best shot, you took to livin' right off the bat, and when you look ahead you just see one more day of golden opportunities awaiting your company. You understand that you and tomorrow are "partners in time"!
Although I'm making reference to the use of the human eye and sight, in Spain lives a famous sculptor. He's been on TV quite a few times, and his exhibitions are very popular, and yet he learned his craft despite the fact he was born deaf, dumb, and blind! He learned about the shape and appearance of things solely by touch. He has never heard music, a dog bark, or a baby cry. He has never seen a tree or an automobile, yet he made himself famous through the quality and value of his work. He portrays the human form, dancing and spinning in a way that almost defies description.
Closer to home there are two other human gems named Manolo and Frasquita. Manolo is 82 years young and still in business as a saddle maker. Each morning at eight his workshop is open, and it's service with a smile. He doesn't think of death; instead he thinks long and hard about tomorrow's project as he completes today's. Frasquita, who lives further up town, set up in business as a shopkeeper at the age of 59 and 33 years later, she's still in business and jolly as ever at 92. I suspect that, apart from the fact that her business interests keep her going, some of her secret may be attributed to her cute sense of humor!
On the flipside of the coin lie the sad cases, people who never take risks, have never been out on a limb, and fail to realize that one more day of their lives wasted could have been better spent as a day added on to that seven-year-old kid down the block who died under the wheels of a bus. It's a cryin' shame how, although they're aware of such tragedies and that so far they've been spared, they still do not fully appreciate the essence and the gift of life. They turn on the faucet, and out pour the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks ... and there it all goes, down the drain and out to sea.
It's humanly possible to make the most of every waking minute, every drop of life, but it takes work.
"O dark valley, covered with night and mist, how long wilt thou keep me bound with thy chains? Better to die and abide under the shadow of the Almighty, than sit desolate in the seething waters."I discern them from afar, the hills of eternity, their ever-enduring summits clothed with garlands of bloom. O that I might rise on wings like the eagle, fly upward with my eyes, and raise my countenance and gaze into the heart of the sun!
"O Heaven, how beautiful are thy paths, they lead to where liberty reigneth ever. How gentle the zephyrs wafted over thy heights, who hath words to tell?"
— Rachel Morpurgo (1790-1860)
Some days ago the United Notions ("A perverse will easily collects together a system of notions to justify itself in its obliquity." — J. H. Newman) issued a press release proudly boasting their intent to regulate, within a legal framework, space travel and exploration! Not content with interfering in the affairs of Sovereign Nations through the novelty vote of primitive ones, whose subjects utilize box cutters on American airline pilots while being too stupid to design and build such items themselves, those collective dunce-nations are now self-appointed "Watchdogs of the Solar System."
About a year ago the United States offered food help to a starving nation in Africa, and it was refused because, they claimed, the grains were genetically modified. I guess I'm presenting the above examples to furnish my general argument in this editorial, that real livin' begins not with collective decision-making by failed socialist regimes, but by the true individual who puts his best foot forward every day and stretches the bounds of human endeavor.
I happen to know that many who read my column each week are likeminded individuals who have experienced hard roads and hard times, but did it their way. That's what life's all about. You recognize that the world does not owe you a living, and neither do governments. We make mistakes and we remedy them. We're individuals and authentic human beings. I made some dang-fool plans in my day, and caused myself suffering as a result, but through this I learned from my mistakes and recognized that I alone was to blame. It's an enriching experience, and years on I think back on those times with amusement. I made those mistakes because I made a decision to choose Life and Livin'.
I'm not perfect ... but I'm worlds apart in the human stakes from that lowlife Kofi Annan and his tribe of feeble-minded morons. They may have managed to regulate U.S. industry, and to regulate the ozone layer, and possibly to regulate outer space and the planets, but they're never going to regulate me and my life! Life's too precious and personal for that¯"from my cold, dead hands ..."
© Johnny D. Symon
The views expressed by RenewAmerica columnists are their own and do not necessarily reflect the position of RenewAmerica or its affiliates.
(See RenewAmerica's publishing standards.)
