Today only, 10 percent off
The grocery store and the barber shop give me "wisdom" discounts because I'm relatively old. So does the golf course when I remember to ask about it. Now I pass the savings on to you.
The low sun stopped me again on my run the other morning. That’s from the bike and pedestrian path where it dips under the Sellwood Bridge on the West bank of the Willamette River in Southeast Portland.
I walked down to the expensive grocery store in our neighborhood because it was a Wednesday, when people over 65 get a 10 percent discount. That’s the only day I can afford to shop there, because usually one bag of food costs about $78 and you could eat most of it on the walk home.
I won’t mention the store’s name (theatrical fake sneeze “ah-choonewseasons!"). Generally, it has the best produce, fruit and meat, but it is expensive with a capital X.
On Wednesdays, though, they give you the wisdom discount and the store is filled with heads that are white and gray, and almost everyone is a step slower than the usual cart bangers you find.
“Are you eligible for a certain discount?” the checkout clerk asked politely, because they are sometimes too formal, and I said, “I certainly am!” with overstated enthusiasm. “Proudly so!” I should have added, but I didn’t think of that until now.
I told the checkout clerk I’d never seen so many gray and white heads in one place, which was an exaggeration, and then I noticed she had gray streaks in her hair, too.
She said yes, it gets busy.
On Wisdom Discount Wednesdays there is much deliberation by gray heads over lettuce heads, and much digging into pockets to find and re-consult quaint shopping lists written by hand on slips of paper.
I don’t remember what I bought, now. But it’s occurred to me that if I walk into a store carrying so much extra wisdom that they give me a discount for it, well, maybe I should be helping others.
So I’ve gathered up some suggestions that are guaranteed to make your life better. And like I said, my wisdom is 10 percent off today.
The first four suggestions, illustrated here, are pretty basic. Starting in the upper left and rotating clockwise, they are:
Take naps. That’s a knight’s stone casket at the Met Cloisters museum in New York City, but I like to think I attain the same sort of deep peace when I nap on the couch. Naps are good for you, knighthood or no.
Spend time in the company of fine dogs. That’s our dog, Sunny, a most vigilant watchdog, but kindly, and especially good with children. She’s 13 now, blind and with a touch of arthritis, but still with us and still keeping watch.
Be able to laugh at yourself. The first newspaper I worked at, from 1980-83, put posters of us in the news boxes scattered around town as some sort of promotional deal. On mine, my own newspaper spelled my name wrong. Of course! And dig the 1980s hair, ha!
Go home again. That’s the long abandoned farmhouse on the highway up out of Condon, the Gilliam County seat in north central Oregon. It’s a long time since anyone’s been home there, but maybe they’re on their way. You should go home, too, and show it to your kids. Listen to what they ask you about it.
Is this helping?
Because I get it, oh, I know. You’re right. The whole damn world is messed up. Violent and twisted. You can start with Gaza, where Israel exacts bloody payback for the hideous attack by Hamas. Then you toss in Ukraine and Russia, and trouble possibly brewing with China and Iran. Meanwhile we’re living in an America that might fly apart with extremist politics, mass murder and the cruel break between haves and have-nots.
“We’re doomed,” as we used to say in the magical newsroom at The Register-Guard newspaper in Eugene, where words and pictures journalism burned so brightly for so many years.
In the newsroom, in those relatively peaceful days, we’d laugh when somebody would crack that “We’re doomed,” line. Because we weren’t doomed, usually. We had it pretty good and enjoyed ourselves.
But now the whole country feels doomed and probably-maybe is because of our itchy trigger-fingers of anger, fear and ignorance. We feel fuckin doomed. And I say that even though I’m almost always an optimist.
Look, I can’t solve all your problems for you. I can tell you what I do to feel better, though, so maybe that will help. Here are some more thoughts on it:
If you are older than 25, please turn your baseball cap back the way it was meant to be worn, with the bill facing forward. This will make you smarter right away.
Do things by hand whenever possible. Use a rake, not a leafblower. Wash your own dishes. Split some firewood with an axe, even if it’s a short piece of 2x4 you’re using for kindling. Pound nails, turn screws. Doing things by hand keeps the body tuned and the mind engaged.
Did I mention you should spend time in the company of great dogs? Goofy ones will do in a pinch.
Hold on to old friends. That’s the famous Oates and Titus in the upper right, dear old friends from growing up in Hood River, Ore.
Moving clockwise, that’s St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. It’s a beautiful place. And I guess the wisdom I’ll dispense here is: Don’t dismiss spirituality. You might not feel like you need it now, but maybe you will.
Look for beauty. You’ll sometimes find it in unlikely places, down low, worn and quiet. If you look for it, you’ll find it.
Say hello to people. Acknowledge each other. Take turns. Give a wave of thanks when the cars stop for you at the crosswalk. Be kindly. Speak to the people actually doing the work in this country. Ask how they’re doing.
Don’t watch TV news. It’s terrible, left or right doesn’t matter. Too much coverage of outrage about outrage, not enough coverage about reason, consensus and possible solutions. Read the news, instead.
Listen to good music. It can drive the darkness out of your head. The soundtrack from this musical, which I watched with my jaw dropped, has taken over my brain, lately:
And now it’s Wednesday again. You got some discounted wisdom and I’m about to go to the store.
Today at the wisdom well I filled my bucket on the 50% off isle & added some Swedish cheese & Italian coffee to the cart. I listened to Merle Haggard sing IF WE MAKE IT THROUGH DECEMBER & walked by your house where one of your fine dogs barked at my fine dog.
For some oddball reason I opened the Nextdoor App & got in a discussion about the dangers (or not) one faces by going downtown. These discussions go on & on for hours & days, breaking off wildly from the original post, but maybe I craved a little conflict with my discounted beer.
But sunset brought me back to my living room & the beauty of suggestion #13 - Sun Kil Moon 🎶
Thanks. Eric!