Bear Stew by Dr. Juan Harrison
The holidays and Sheri’s home cooking had recently knocked us out of our weekly trip to Tejanos in Cooper for our Mexican food fix. Tonight as they frequently do, the kids called in an order which we hand delivered to them on the way back to town. Yep, we went in and let the adults eat while we fought over who got to hold Murphy. Emmie had to show us her backward flip she learned in gymnastics. Ooh it made my back hurt. Jack had to show me his plastic deer blind with a stuffed animal in it like a miniature gorilla in a cage. Not much chance of an adult conversation going on there. Plenty of communication going on, though.
Poppy kept nipping at my ankles for a snack while Murphy was banging on his baby tray for some more of those yogurt bites. His mommy said he wouldn’t eat his avocado. I took a chunk and stuck it in the middle of his bite. Viola. Who says an old dog can’t teach the youngers a trick or two. Ah, those messy high chair days. Don’t I wish I could go back there again sometimes. Aren’t I glad for one more grasp from that sticky hand. One more twinkle of his eye, one more lips pursed in a grin. How did I get to live long enough to be blessed this way.
Today I’m saddened by news of a couple of young entertainment stars passing away, coincidentally at age 54. I frequently remind us of Job’s reminder in the OT that our days are numbered. We’re told to redeem the days for time is short. How many times do we stop in amazement or consternation when we realize kids we knew are now approaching retirement. How in the heck did that happen? Did they sneak past us while we weren’t looking and almost caught up with us. Wait a minute. Seriously, am I really that old. We hear that 90 is the new 70. Seventy is common. Eighty is okay. Ninety is a good goal. I don’t smoke or drink, so, maybe I have a shot. Again Job reminds me that we have no control over the length of our lives. We do have control of the quality of our lives.
Existing is not living. Scrooge went from existing to living. I see people spending literal hours blowing leaves daily, trying to fill in the time before the last grain falls from the top to the bottom of the hourglass. Meaningless television. Constant catnaps. The world tries to rob us of any form of meaning and purpose in our final days. Time to reassess. We may need to get the tractor and pull ourselves outta a rut, a grave with both ends open. I don’t have much choice. Jack’s back at home with us and wants a tunnel or a cave. Get out the folding chairs and quilts. Clean off the dining table and cover it with a blanket. Us men have got to get to hunting bears or mountain lions. You women better have a good appetite. It’s bear stew tonight.
By Dr. Juan Harrison
