Too Damned Late

 

Thin and dry, scaly skin stretched

over brittle bone. Age spots dotting

the landscape of my existence. More

pits, pocks and wrinkles than an

eighty-year old elephant. Hair

conjested nostrils and ears. Creaking

aching joints from neck to toes.

Loss of memory, words and names,

the present day of the week conven-

iently escape me. I recount the years

and find it hard to believe I’m friggin’

seventy-three. George Reeves, James

Dean and Captain Kangaroo are dead.

Very few left with whom I can relate.

The Grand Canyon is no longer grand,

the Great Salt Lake no longer great. I

find the image of myself in the mirror

nauseatingly repulsive. I look like a scraggly

Gandalf the Wizard who has lost all his mys-

tical powers.

I live alone with my small dog, haven’t

changed my t-shirt in weeks, shall open

a can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew for diner,

will watch Wolf Blitzer’s Situation Room

on CNN TV, and can’t figure out how to

text message on the new flip phone my

son brought me the other day.

I can still construct a run-on sentence

nicely. Old age has at least left me with

that consolation. For much else, it’s

too damned late. So, screw it, I say!

Something within me says, walk this

way. Hesitantly forward into the great

unknown, it is the only way I know.

               -30-

Chris Hanch 8-23-2020

More Changes

 

In certain societies such as ours

and with certain people such as

you and I, changes in our lives

come gradually over time.

For instance, I can’t recall the day

or the moment I gave up chasing

fireflies at night and began reading

Moby Dick.

Can’t remember when I traded

hunting tortoises and playing

King of the Hill, l and started be-

coming infatuated with girls.

When was it exactly I changed

from a boy into a man? Were

the transformations biological

or societal?

I remember playing Hide and

Seek with my kids when they

were younger, but it just wasn’t

the same for me.

Changes, sometimes subtle and

unobtrusive. What did it take,

what had I been through to get

from childhood innocence to old

age and guilty as charged?

Oh, of course there were memorable

joys and struggles along the way. But

too, there were those prosaic lost days

in between, those unaccountable and

nebulous days where I had nothing to

do or say for myself.

Time has a way of slipping away

on any given day. And here I am

in my rightful time and place none-

theless, old and gray.

And tomrrow, who knows? My humanity

is a fallen leaf. Who can say from which

direction the wind blows?

            -30-

Chris Hanch 8-23-2020

Historically Speaking

 

We were given history to show the

living how life used to be.

We were given history as a lesson

to be learned: one step forward,

breathe and repeat, or dare not

try to do over again.

What strikes me mostly is that all

fools were not a thing of the past,

more of them are sure to be born.

Give me another shot at it, and I’ll

try and do the best I can. I believe

Alexander Hamilton said that.

History shows, had he foreseen what

was about to happen, perhaps he may

have taken better aim, or failed to

show up in the first place.

And the lesson to be learned, dueling

pistols are not the best way to resolve

a problem. On the other hand, not just

anyone gets to appear on the $10 bill.

And someone said, there ought to be

a law. And so there was, but even then,

that didn’t seem help a hell of a lot.

History? Go figure.

                     -30-

Chris Hanch 8-22-2020

My Beard

 

I live in a place and time in life

where I can let my full beard grow.

No one cares, and no one but my

children know.

And they only visit me every two

weeks or so.

It’s a white beard. I passed Santa

Clause in length quite some time ago.

It dangles wildly way past my Adam's

apple, covers my neck entirely.

I’d say it is where an inveterate homeless

man’s beard would be should he have,

against all odds, lived long past his time.

My beard has outgrown me, having gone

way past its prime and mine.

                      -30-

Chris Hanch 8-20-2020

My Life as I See It

 

I am a fortunate man indeed to

have had a variety of experiences

presented to me in my lifetime.

I have traveled widely here and

abroad. I have seen a worldly

cross-section of faces and places,

have explored and participated

in a diverse selection of cultures

and situations.

I have been inspired and created

photographic, written and artistic

images and obsevations along

the way.

And as the time came when I could

no longer physically continue on my

journey, I was given the gift of time

to reflect, catalog and present images

of my travels and experiences, to

share with others that which life

presented as a gift to me.

I had to accept my condition and

use my time, lonely and restricted

as it came to be, to cherish that

which was afforded me, to share

with others my work and vision

openly and freely. So many never

get that precious oportunity.

The years I have been given,

expressed in my own way,

have been lived creatively

and productively.

For what it’s worth, filled with

sorrow and joy, I stand side by

side with the troupe of humanity

as a player on life’s stage.

I remember meeting you along the

straight and winding way, and consider

myself a fortunate man indeed.

                   -30-

Chris Hanch 8-19-2020

On My Merry Way

 

Sometimes I had a plan;

sometimes I would just

go with the flow. I guess

the latter was also a plan

which outcome I never

cared to know. Those,

I suppose, could have gone

either way. Sometimes I

had success; sometimes I

would fail; sometimes I

would try again always

learning something new—

Do or don’t try that again.

Life, I suppose it works

that way. Best of luck,

My Friend. I Hope and

pray you find your way

and make it through okay.

On my merry way, somehow

I have managed to get this far.

              -30-

Chris Hanch 8-19-2020

That's My Story

 

I think about times past when the life

expectancy of people was in the forties

of fifties. Oh, there were always a few

who managed to live considerably

longer, but mostly they were far and

few between.

Mark Twain for instance lived to be

75-years old when he died in 1910,

a respectable old age in those days.

The reason the length of life came to

mind is that the longer we humans

live, chances are that we’ll likely be-

come infirm with myriad physical

and mental maladies. Take me for

instance at age 73, I happen to be

afflicted with severe arthritis in my

hips, knees and shoulders. I had no

noticeable symptoms until I was

in my mid sixties.

Looking back at my working life’s ac-

tivities I can see where my problems

began. Much of my life I had jobs

which placed me placidly at a desk

or a drawing board. I was a pencil

pusher and artist.

Oh, I had done some physical work

around the house and yard, construc-

tion and maintenance work primarily.

And from time to time I would help

friends and family move heavy and

awkward furniture and belongings,

you know. I worked on my cars and

such, typical everyday upkeep stuff.

But in my mid-fifties I had to make

one of my many job changes. I went

to work for a local Kinko’s, the copy

folks. I was hired as a pick up and

delivery courier. I loved that job

because being out of the store

driving around town every day,

I had a lot of autonomy. In addi-

tion to my business activities, I

could stop and grab a coffee and

bagel whenever I pleased. I could

drop by my bank and take care of

financial transactions and such.

Not to abuse my job responsibil-

ities, I always got my work done in

a professional and timely manner.

What finally caught up to me years

later was lifting and carting around

80, 100 lb boxes of paper. Not only

schlepping them from customer to

customer, but unloading 10 or 15

pallets of paper products for the

store each week.

I did that back-breaking, knee-bending,

shoulder stressing work for nine years.

And ladies and gentlemen, I was a light-

weight, no Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Needless to say in my later years I am

still paying the price. Now see, had I died

in my fifties, I would not have to endure

all that pain which plagues me today.

Had I not stopped for coffee and bagels

everyday on company time, Karma for

me would have been far more under-

standing, gracious and kind.

At age 73, it’s too late to turn back.

And now, I am left with this untenable

condition, floundering in the muck of

my own reality, you see. Alas, the Piper

must be paid.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 8-17-2020