| Commentary and Philosophy Non-Fiction posted November 9, 2023 |
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The days are dwindling down.
An Old Rugged Man
by Terry Broxson
This morning, as I took what I've come to think of as my stay-alive pills, I got a good look at the old fella in the mirror.
He appeared wrinkled and sagging, with only a few hairs, mainly in the wrong places.
Sometimes. my mind wanders and envisions something vastly different from what it ought to think. I'm sure most readers don't understand that last sentence. I just barely did.
Looking at the guy in the mirror, I thought of the song, The Old Rugged Cross. But I envisioned an old, rugged man on a hill far away. He contemplated, at last, laying down his trophies.
The vision in my mind goes back to hearing the song in our little Baptist Church. The choir often sang it. I could see my mother singing in the choir. They could drag the song out for ten minutes, maybe fifteen.
The great George Beverly Shea could drag it out for two weeks, and Mahalia Jackson could make it last a month.
Trophies. What trophies does that rugged old man have to lay down?
My thoughts turned to all the bowling trophies I had accumulated over sixty years ago. There were a lot. My mother kept them all. When she died, I threw those out—an old door shut.
There are some trophies with my name on them at the university I attended, probably in some dusty storage closet. Universities never throw away trophies.
During my working career, I received plaques and awards for doing one thing or another. Those were tossed years ago.
Years went by before I got another trophy. It's actually a plaque from FanStory for being the number two-ranked short story writer in 2022. It's on the wall in my home office.
The older one gets, the longer it takes for any lovely newness to wear off. That applies to recently acquired plaques and people.
I know cynics on FS think recognition ribbons and plaques are meaningless. Some of the naysayers don't have any ribbons or plaques. It does make me wonder how they would feel if they did.
The really good cynic has lots of ribbons, seals, and plaques. In their eyes, this makes them a credible critic. It seems kind of silly to be a cynic. But I have learned they only speak for themself.
Like that old rugged man on the far-away hill, I will readily lay down my trophies. If there are any left when the time comes.
What I will cherish is the memory of the people who have touched me.
This morning, as I took what I've come to think of as my stay-alive pills, I got a good look at the old fella in the mirror.
He appeared wrinkled and sagging, with only a few hairs, mainly in the wrong places.
Sometimes. my mind wanders and envisions something vastly different from what it ought to think. I'm sure most readers don't understand that last sentence. I just barely did.
Looking at the guy in the mirror, I thought of the song, The Old Rugged Cross. But I envisioned an old, rugged man on a hill far away. He contemplated, at last, laying down his trophies.
The vision in my mind goes back to hearing the song in our little Baptist Church. The choir often sang it. I could see my mother singing in the choir. They could drag the song out for ten minutes, maybe fifteen.
The great George Beverly Shea could drag it out for two weeks, and Mahalia Jackson could make it last a month.
Trophies. What trophies does that rugged old man have to lay down?
My thoughts turned to all the bowling trophies I had accumulated over sixty years ago. There were a lot. My mother kept them all. When she died, I threw those out—an old door shut.
There are some trophies with my name on them at the university I attended, probably in some dusty storage closet. Universities never throw away trophies.
During my working career, I received plaques and awards for doing one thing or another. Those were tossed years ago.
Years went by before I got another trophy. It's actually a plaque from FanStory for being the number two-ranked short story writer in 2022. It's on the wall in my home office.
The older one gets, the longer it takes for any lovely newness to wear off. That applies to recently acquired plaques and people.
I know cynics on FS think recognition ribbons and plaques are meaningless. Some of the naysayers don't have any ribbons or plaques. It does make me wonder how they would feel if they did.
The really good cynic has lots of ribbons, seals, and plaques. In their eyes, this makes them a credible critic. It seems kind of silly to be a cynic. But I have learned they only speak for themself.
Like that old rugged man on the far-away hill, I will readily lay down my trophies. If there are any left when the time comes.
What I will cherish is the memory of the people who have touched me.
 Recognized |
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Artwork by nikman at FanArtReview.com
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© Copyright 2024. Terry Broxson All rights reserved.
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