Rites of PassageOK. I have been trying to think of things to write about. Fortunately there are the Olympics to write about. But that is not why you are here! So, I put my mind to work once again. And it doesn't take very long for it to grow tired!
Well, I just came home from the dentist. And it got me thinking. I used to never go to the dentist. And now I go four times a year; or more when I eat a BEAN burrito from Mrs. Alvarado. And then I never went to the doctor's. But now I go three times a year to the cardiologist, at least twice a year to the primary care physician, a couple times a year to the allergist and at least once a month to get allergy shots. All told I have probably been to the doctor's more in the last couple years than in my whole life. Everyone I have talked to about it simply tell me it's part of getting old. Now, I have never looked at myself as to getting old, though grandX has certainly been living proof of the fact. I never saw myself as a grandbob, or a father for that matter. When I was a kid they were all old. My grandparents never lasted that long once I came around. So, I never really saw myself in these roles.
Instead of thinking about getting old, I began thinking about rites of passage. You know, those rites, formal or informal that marks the passage of time; and our progress through time. Som
e rites of passage would be like getting your driver's license at age 16; graduating from high school; things like that. You normally don't think about rites of passage when you get my age. But since I hit 50 last February I have discovered some. As I sat in the dentist chair with nothing to do except keep my mouth open I contemplated another rite I was about to experience and which I would prefer: dentist or, well, that particular rite. So, what is this rite? It's kinda personal. If you don't know you'll find out when you turn 50. Or check out the poll on the side.
Well, I just came home from the dentist. And it got me thinking. I used to never go to the dentist. And now I go four times a year; or more when I eat a BEAN burrito from Mrs. Alvarado. And then I never went to the doctor's. But now I go three times a year to the cardiologist, at least twice a year to the primary care physician, a couple times a year to the allergist and at least once a month to get allergy shots. All told I have probably been to the doctor's more in the last couple years than in my whole life. Everyone I have talked to about it simply tell me it's part of getting old. Now, I have never looked at myself as to getting old, though grandX has certainly been living proof of the fact. I never saw myself as a grandbob, or a father for that matter. When I was a kid they were all old. My grandparents never lasted that long once I came around. So, I never really saw myself in these roles.
Instead of thinking about getting old, I began thinking about rites of passage. You know, those rites, formal or informal that marks the passage of time; and our progress through time. Som
e rites of passage would be like getting your driver's license at age 16; graduating from high school; things like that. You normally don't think about rites of passage when you get my age. But since I hit 50 last February I have discovered some. As I sat in the dentist chair with nothing to do except keep my mouth open I contemplated another rite I was about to experience and which I would prefer: dentist or, well, that particular rite. So, what is this rite? It's kinda personal. If you don't know you'll find out when you turn 50. Or check out the poll on the side.
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