Looking back on the first 61

By Jeff Orvis

On the eve of the start of my 62^nd year, this might be a good time to look back on my first 61. Although I've had my share of aches and pains and minor afflictions over the years, I am so thankful that my ailments have been few, especially compared to many friends and relatives who have dealt with so much more.

I firmly believe that my choice of career has had a lot to do with my seemingly good health. I have had an increasing awareness of the power of God and prayer over the past few years and I realize He has a plan for me. Several of my friends and relatives have had long careers in factories or offices, etc. I'm sure that most of them have been compensated better than I. But in my more than 35 years in the news business, much of that time has been spent in elementary or high schools, in gyms, auditoriums or playing fields.

These times make it worthwhile even when I have had to miss some things to attend school board or city council meetings. Hank Aaron's 714^th homer? I was at a school board meeting. The last MASH episode? Another school board meeting. I've watched as teachers smile or even shed a tear on graduation day as they turn over the future of students to their next step. Teachers are like the academic parents for young people. 

In that way, I guess I have been like a grandfather. I might stop in at a school for a game, concert or story, but then I can leave, while the teachers stay to witness the highs and lows of their students.

So in many ways, more than half of my first 61 years have flown by. I've discovered that as you get older, not only does the body not do what your mind wants it to do as quickly as it may have 20 years earlier, but you don't necessarily remember what happened in a particular year.

Somebody mentioned the year 1995 a few days ago and I realized that I couldn't recall a particular highlight of that date 19 years ago!

And yet, even in this old brain, some years still stay with me. In 1958, when Mom was walking me to kindergarten, a young tomcat came out of the woods and adopted us for nearly a decade. I was just old enough to feel the nation's pain in 1963 when we all heard that awful news from Dallas – the assassination of President Kennedy.

A lot happened in 1968. I thought I didn't want to relive that year again, especially with the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy. A high point came in 1971 with high school graduation. I still remember the funny feeling I had that afternoon. I was heading for my freshman year at Central College in Pella, so I knew where I was going to be in September. But there was so much uncertainty. I went for a long walk with my best friend, Lynn. As she tried to help me sort through the meaning of life, we arrived back at her house. I vaguely remember her dad saying I looked like I needed a drink (it was legal for 18-year-olds at the time). But somehow I made it through graduation, held in the high school gym, even though a transformer blew shortly before the ceremony and we sat through an increasingly hot time.

Just as the Alcoa eagle will soon be pushed out of the home nest, my flight came in 1977, when I moved 125 miles from home for a job at the Independence newspaper. The next year that pops in my mind is 1981, a warm August Sunday night, when I got the call from one of Mom's friends that my dad had suffered a fatal heart attack. It was a lonely 2 ½ hour trip home that night, when I had plenty of time to talk to God to give me strength for the coming days.

There was marriage and an instant family in 1991 and a lot of life lessons in the subsequent years. When my career in Independence came to a close in 1997, we moved to Belle Plaine, for another great opportunity in community journalism. When the economy beat me over the head again in 2010, I made the move to live with Mom in Davenport. By this time, the boys were grown and their mom and I were separated. But I had a couple of good years with Mom, even if the job hunt didn't work out.

I mentioned being reluctant to relive the year 1968, but my initial thought was I really never wanted to relive August, 2012. Much of that month was spent at my mom's bedside in the hospital, as she endured three major surgeries. She didn't recover from that last one.

Through all of the tears and enormous sense of loss of that time, one very positive thought comes to mind: Who says a Lutheran pastor and a Methodist pastor can't act as a team for comfort and reassurance of eternal life for believers? Pastor Locke (Mom's pastor) and Pastor Kirkpatrick (my pastor) are leaders of big Quad-City congregations. But they spent many hours in prayer, singing favorite hymns and words of encouragement in that hospital room.

After the initial period of mourning, my real work began. I was, and still am, the executor of Mom's estate. She lived modestly. She had a few investments, etc., but she didn't own a lot of farms. We finally sold her home, which reminded my why I am thankful I never attempted to own property. But it meant I had to find another place to live and that led to another leap of faith for me as I moved back here to Belle Plaine.

So that briefly covers 61 grand and at times adventurous years in a nutshell. I've decided that people who live in fear of what bad thing will happen to them as they grow older are even worse off than those who ignore the signs of advancing age. Life is a constant battle of vigilance and gratitude. It might be a shock when I glance in the mirror in the bathroom when I wake up each morning and that old man stares back at me. But if I can replace a scowl with a little smile and a little prayer for another day, that might mean several more years of adventures!