Mid-Life Crises
Mid-Life Crises - © Kent Fletcher
August 21, 2007
I was browsing the web a couple of days ago and came across this one: http://www.thegeminiweb.com/babyboomer/. It's really quite an interesting place, but mostly a good place to go to read the junk of a blogger. I read one yesterday, though, about mid-life crises (MLC) that apparently a lot of boomers are going through. Here's a list of some possibilities:
* Discontent with life and/or lifestyle that may have provided happiness for many years.
* Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest.
* Feeling adventurous and wanting to do something completely different.
* Questioning the meaning of life, and the validity of decisions clearly and easily made years before.
* Confusion about who you are or where your life is going.
I remember one case of a boomer have a spell of MLC. He was my boss at the Council of Government in Arlington, TX. I'd guess Bob was in his mid to late 40s. Quite a dynamic person, but he really wasn't a people person. Wife, two kids, humongous house in Southlake, north of Fort Worth. I went out there once for a barbecue or something he put on for his staff. I wasn't impressed.
Bob was going through a period where it appeared he was attempting to regain his youth. I remember his going on and on about in-line skating, how he would don the skates after work and just go sailing around his neighborhood. He lived in a relatively new subdivision, not too many houses around and hardly any traffic, so he was able to go wild and all over the streets.
One day when he came to work, he was grinning ear to ear, yakking it up about his new toy. Of course, he invited his staff and anyone else out to the parking lot to see the toy. It was a Mitsubishi Miata, a tiny car. Red. Convertible. Two-seater. Cutesy. Ticket grabber. He was talking about how he could weave in and out of traffic, going a bit better than the posted speed limit, which was still 55 at the time. On clear days he would drop the top and let the wind blow through his hair, reveling in the "freedom" of reliving either his youth, or his perceived youth.
Heck, at the time I was driving either an ancient Toyota van or an 83 Volvo station wagon, and I was quite comfortable in one or the other. I didn't need flash and dash capabilities, just utility to get me from point A to point B in an orderly and safe fashion. I guess the only time I had a MLC situation was when I purchased my 73 Volvo 1800ES. Drove it from Oklahoma City to Cleveland, MS, to New Orleans, to Pensacola, to Atlanta, finally arriving in Norfolk, VA. I've driven the thing to Colorado and back, to Hattiesburg, MS, and back. Quite a thrilling car. Speedometer disintegrated several years ago, so now I just run on the tachometer. It also draws attention, a lot of attention. Seems I remember reading only some 3,000 were manufactured. 1973 was the last year Volvo produced anything made in the United States. There is not a single metric screw or bolt on the car, all SAE. Makes working on it a pleasure, most of the time.
But why did I even buy it? Good question. Actually I first saw it in 1986 on a trip to Colorado. I had just gotten into AMSOIL (synthetic lubricants) and wanted to meet my up-line on the way. The car was sitting in his backyard. Every couple of months the fellow would go out and crank 'er up, let it run for a few minutes, shut it down, go back inside. In early 1990, the lease on my 85 Volvo 740 Turbo was about to run out, and I got to thinking about this little car.
So I called the fellow, asked him how much he wanted for the car. $4,800. I thought about it for a day or two, called him back, committed myself to buying it.
I flew out to Oklahoma City one Saturday in March 1990. The fellow had been working on the car, fixing it up as best he could. There were a few quirks about the thing, but nothing that would make me hesitate on the purchase. I finally drove out on April 1, April Fool's Day. It was a long drive back to Norfolk, but that's another story altogether.
Through November 1990, I was constantly, and consistently working on the car. The leased Volvo went back to Volvo, so I had no choice but to work on it. Had to get a "new" gas tank out of North Carolina, change out the plugs, wires, fuel injection lines. Added a by-pass oil function. When I left Norfolk heading for Texas, the car was on a dolly behind the moving van.
So, I guess that was my own MLC for the time. I was 44 yoa, had me a cutesy car, on my way to my last duty station, and was a happy camper for the most part.
I was looking over the list on the Boomer Blog above, thinking long and hard if any of the five instances fit my bill. One does. This one:
* Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest.
As much as I love woodworking, I'm beginning to get bored with it. When I lived in Arlington, TX, I had my own little workshop, 8' by 16', tight, efficient. I turned out some good stuff there, too. Cradles, blanket chests, flag cases, retirement cases, any number of things. Did some fret work with a scroll saw making letter openers of exotic woods like bubinga, cocabola, even mesquite. Did a couple of pine spice cabinets, complete with milk paint and hand-punched tin or copper inserts in the doors, key boxes. All give-aways except the flag or retirement cases. I spent many a late night in that workshop, very content to be doing the work I had latched on to after my divorce in 1987.
In 2002, I made a fateful mistake and moved south to a bungalow outside Grandview, TX. Can you imagine attempting to get "stuff" that was in a 1,000 sq ft mobile home into a 400 sq ft bungalow? I was constantly running into myself there. But I did have access to a 20' by 20' pole barn for a shop. Man, I had room to roam. The only problems I really had, though, was the floor of said shop was gravel (easy to "lose" things in gravel) and the roof leaked like a sieve. When it was raining outside, it was nearly as bad inside. Couldn't get much work done that way.
In 2004, I made a better move back north about 10 miles, to Alvarado, TX. I left all my tools and equipment down at Grandview for a while, returning every now and then to do something, anything. But it just wasn't the same, for sure. I got word from my former landlord the place was for sale and that I needed to fetch my stuff out of there. I told my current landlady about the situation, and she finally agreed to let me use a shop on an adjacent property. I had to clean it out first, being ever mindful to watch closely what I threw away.
The building has a concrete floor and is constructed of a solid frame with a metal roof. In other words, the only decent time to work out there is early morning this time of year. And here I sit writing this at 0930. I have a large fan mounted in the window, but when the temps outside get up around 85-90F, no amount of fans can keep me comfy. To add insult to injury, I had back surgery in March of 06, and my stamina just has not returned.
* Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest.
So, quite frankly, I'm nearly bored to tears from not having anything really constructive to do at the moment. The temps of August round here keep me inside the house most of the day, under the a/c unit. I play on the puter all day, roaming around, visiting my favorite websites for woodworking, for news, for weather, and play a few games. I voraciously procrastinate on a lot of things I need to get done around the property. Instead of getting up and out in the cooler mornings, I wait until mid-morning or later and suffer the consequences. But it's nice in the house, now. No noise unless I turn on the radio, which is rare; no television because of no antenna, mainly. The only constant noise is my tinnitus, which has grown excessively loud in the past couple of months. On the days I have a doctor's appointment in Mansfield or Fort Worth, or even Arlington, I actually look forward to the event, as it gets me out of the house for a little while, get to mix with folks I don't know for a bit.
It's not like I don't have any friends around here, I know a neighbor or two and yak with them when I see them, if I have to, if I want to. I have a daily phone call from my blind friend, George, and approximately three days a week, I'll haul him around the countryside going places he wants to go, and for my services he buys me lunch. Not a bad deal, and I'm in an air-conditioned car or truck.
This morning my restful sleep was rudely terminated when my cat decided to see what was with the picture on top of the dresser. It was not attached to the wall, and he likes to sleep up there. I suspect he pushed a little harder than usual and the thing tipped over, crashed to the floor, shattered the glass all over the floor. So now, at least, I've got something constructive to do. In a little while. Later today. It was funny, too, how he reappeared after I got up and peered around the corner at the destruction he had caused, eyes wide open, ears forward. Then he saw me and took off. At least the picture itself was not damaged. Another pane of glass won't cost much, anyway.
Oh, nearly forgot something. Out of all the *'s on the list at the top, I'm only afflicted with the second one. I'm basically content with where I am at the moment.
In a way I guess my boredom is of my own making. I wish I had more room in my workshop to do the things I want to do. I could clean the place up, again, and be a happy camper. Maybe I'll do that later, today. Or tomorrow.
August 21, 2007
I was browsing the web a couple of days ago and came across this one: http://www.thegeminiweb.com/babyboomer/. It's really quite an interesting place, but mostly a good place to go to read the junk of a blogger. I read one yesterday, though, about mid-life crises (MLC) that apparently a lot of boomers are going through. Here's a list of some possibilities:
* Discontent with life and/or lifestyle that may have provided happiness for many years.
* Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest.
* Feeling adventurous and wanting to do something completely different.
* Questioning the meaning of life, and the validity of decisions clearly and easily made years before.
* Confusion about who you are or where your life is going.
I remember one case of a boomer have a spell of MLC. He was my boss at the Council of Government in Arlington, TX. I'd guess Bob was in his mid to late 40s. Quite a dynamic person, but he really wasn't a people person. Wife, two kids, humongous house in Southlake, north of Fort Worth. I went out there once for a barbecue or something he put on for his staff. I wasn't impressed.
Bob was going through a period where it appeared he was attempting to regain his youth. I remember his going on and on about in-line skating, how he would don the skates after work and just go sailing around his neighborhood. He lived in a relatively new subdivision, not too many houses around and hardly any traffic, so he was able to go wild and all over the streets.
One day when he came to work, he was grinning ear to ear, yakking it up about his new toy. Of course, he invited his staff and anyone else out to the parking lot to see the toy. It was a Mitsubishi Miata, a tiny car. Red. Convertible. Two-seater. Cutesy. Ticket grabber. He was talking about how he could weave in and out of traffic, going a bit better than the posted speed limit, which was still 55 at the time. On clear days he would drop the top and let the wind blow through his hair, reveling in the "freedom" of reliving either his youth, or his perceived youth.
Heck, at the time I was driving either an ancient Toyota van or an 83 Volvo station wagon, and I was quite comfortable in one or the other. I didn't need flash and dash capabilities, just utility to get me from point A to point B in an orderly and safe fashion. I guess the only time I had a MLC situation was when I purchased my 73 Volvo 1800ES. Drove it from Oklahoma City to Cleveland, MS, to New Orleans, to Pensacola, to Atlanta, finally arriving in Norfolk, VA. I've driven the thing to Colorado and back, to Hattiesburg, MS, and back. Quite a thrilling car. Speedometer disintegrated several years ago, so now I just run on the tachometer. It also draws attention, a lot of attention. Seems I remember reading only some 3,000 were manufactured. 1973 was the last year Volvo produced anything made in the United States. There is not a single metric screw or bolt on the car, all SAE. Makes working on it a pleasure, most of the time.
But why did I even buy it? Good question. Actually I first saw it in 1986 on a trip to Colorado. I had just gotten into AMSOIL (synthetic lubricants) and wanted to meet my up-line on the way. The car was sitting in his backyard. Every couple of months the fellow would go out and crank 'er up, let it run for a few minutes, shut it down, go back inside. In early 1990, the lease on my 85 Volvo 740 Turbo was about to run out, and I got to thinking about this little car.
So I called the fellow, asked him how much he wanted for the car. $4,800. I thought about it for a day or two, called him back, committed myself to buying it.
I flew out to Oklahoma City one Saturday in March 1990. The fellow had been working on the car, fixing it up as best he could. There were a few quirks about the thing, but nothing that would make me hesitate on the purchase. I finally drove out on April 1, April Fool's Day. It was a long drive back to Norfolk, but that's another story altogether.
Through November 1990, I was constantly, and consistently working on the car. The leased Volvo went back to Volvo, so I had no choice but to work on it. Had to get a "new" gas tank out of North Carolina, change out the plugs, wires, fuel injection lines. Added a by-pass oil function. When I left Norfolk heading for Texas, the car was on a dolly behind the moving van.
So, I guess that was my own MLC for the time. I was 44 yoa, had me a cutesy car, on my way to my last duty station, and was a happy camper for the most part.
I was looking over the list on the Boomer Blog above, thinking long and hard if any of the five instances fit my bill. One does. This one:
* Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest.
As much as I love woodworking, I'm beginning to get bored with it. When I lived in Arlington, TX, I had my own little workshop, 8' by 16', tight, efficient. I turned out some good stuff there, too. Cradles, blanket chests, flag cases, retirement cases, any number of things. Did some fret work with a scroll saw making letter openers of exotic woods like bubinga, cocabola, even mesquite. Did a couple of pine spice cabinets, complete with milk paint and hand-punched tin or copper inserts in the doors, key boxes. All give-aways except the flag or retirement cases. I spent many a late night in that workshop, very content to be doing the work I had latched on to after my divorce in 1987.
In 2002, I made a fateful mistake and moved south to a bungalow outside Grandview, TX. Can you imagine attempting to get "stuff" that was in a 1,000 sq ft mobile home into a 400 sq ft bungalow? I was constantly running into myself there. But I did have access to a 20' by 20' pole barn for a shop. Man, I had room to roam. The only problems I really had, though, was the floor of said shop was gravel (easy to "lose" things in gravel) and the roof leaked like a sieve. When it was raining outside, it was nearly as bad inside. Couldn't get much work done that way.
In 2004, I made a better move back north about 10 miles, to Alvarado, TX. I left all my tools and equipment down at Grandview for a while, returning every now and then to do something, anything. But it just wasn't the same, for sure. I got word from my former landlord the place was for sale and that I needed to fetch my stuff out of there. I told my current landlady about the situation, and she finally agreed to let me use a shop on an adjacent property. I had to clean it out first, being ever mindful to watch closely what I threw away.
The building has a concrete floor and is constructed of a solid frame with a metal roof. In other words, the only decent time to work out there is early morning this time of year. And here I sit writing this at 0930. I have a large fan mounted in the window, but when the temps outside get up around 85-90F, no amount of fans can keep me comfy. To add insult to injury, I had back surgery in March of 06, and my stamina just has not returned.
* Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest.
So, quite frankly, I'm nearly bored to tears from not having anything really constructive to do at the moment. The temps of August round here keep me inside the house most of the day, under the a/c unit. I play on the puter all day, roaming around, visiting my favorite websites for woodworking, for news, for weather, and play a few games. I voraciously procrastinate on a lot of things I need to get done around the property. Instead of getting up and out in the cooler mornings, I wait until mid-morning or later and suffer the consequences. But it's nice in the house, now. No noise unless I turn on the radio, which is rare; no television because of no antenna, mainly. The only constant noise is my tinnitus, which has grown excessively loud in the past couple of months. On the days I have a doctor's appointment in Mansfield or Fort Worth, or even Arlington, I actually look forward to the event, as it gets me out of the house for a little while, get to mix with folks I don't know for a bit.
It's not like I don't have any friends around here, I know a neighbor or two and yak with them when I see them, if I have to, if I want to. I have a daily phone call from my blind friend, George, and approximately three days a week, I'll haul him around the countryside going places he wants to go, and for my services he buys me lunch. Not a bad deal, and I'm in an air-conditioned car or truck.
This morning my restful sleep was rudely terminated when my cat decided to see what was with the picture on top of the dresser. It was not attached to the wall, and he likes to sleep up there. I suspect he pushed a little harder than usual and the thing tipped over, crashed to the floor, shattered the glass all over the floor. So now, at least, I've got something constructive to do. In a little while. Later today. It was funny, too, how he reappeared after I got up and peered around the corner at the destruction he had caused, eyes wide open, ears forward. Then he saw me and took off. At least the picture itself was not damaged. Another pane of glass won't cost much, anyway.
Oh, nearly forgot something. Out of all the *'s on the list at the top, I'm only afflicted with the second one. I'm basically content with where I am at the moment.
In a way I guess my boredom is of my own making. I wish I had more room in my workshop to do the things I want to do. I could clean the place up, again, and be a happy camper. Maybe I'll do that later, today. Or tomorrow.
posted by Fletch @ 8:22 AM
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