⌘ What would you do if you could walk into a store and purchase a new brain? What if you could transfer all, or just part, of your current knowledge to that “new brain”? You could select your IQ and the personality you wanted, and even select the amount of compassion and caring you desire to have in your new “noggin”. It would be more resistant to age and disease (Alzheimer’s) and be entirely compatible with all bodily functions. Just like everything else for sale, you could purchase various upgrades (a quicker brain, allowing you to have instant recall–think Jeopardy) or you could have any language of choice embedded. For even more money you could add a secondary language. Pay a little more and you could have up to 5 of them.
Then, you could choose to be an expert in any field you desire for more money, saving years and lots of money on an education. Oh, did I mention a calendar is included free? You would never have to keep a physical record of appointments, meetings, family get-togethers, etc. There would be a little section of your frontal lobe set aside for those things, and you could move them in and out at will.
Lastly, you could have them include the blueprint on how to treat the opposite sex, but that would be really costly. In my opinion, that should be the basis for the “New Brain”, the very first thing embedded, a necessary awareness needed by everyone. It would be analogous to selling a car without a motor.
Now we get down to the nitty gritty of the question: would we do it? Would we purchase a new brain, with all the enhancements mentioned above, if we could? Although inviting, I’m inclined to think I wouldn’t do it. All those things would certainly have improved my life and made it more enjoyable, but it wouldn’t/couldn’t make me the person I am today. Would my family and friends love that new person as much as they love the person I am now? Should I risk it? Could I be confident that God would be okay with it if I became a better disciple?
I have to give it some more thought. I know this could not happen in my lifetime, but it will probably arrive at some future date–maybe for my great-great grandchildren.
Alfred Lord Tennyson said, “Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering it will be happier.
” Maybe it will include a “New Brain.” 😊
⌘ I keep a journal of my daily activities and I have done that since the mid-90s. No, I don’t have a physical journal, I have an electronic version and I enjoy it immensely. Anytime I want to find out when something occurred, I activate my trusty journal and within seconds, there it is, telling me what I want to know. It’s amazing how often it corrects my memory, but its most important purpose is to reconnect me to the person I was back then. The first entry for the day tells me the weather and the temperature for that date, then what I was doing and thinking. How cool is that! Often it will include names of people in my life and my interaction with them. So many of my family and friends have moved on, or passed away, and new ones have stepped in to take their places and help me make a life that is enjoyable and purposeful. All of them helped shape me.
That begs the question: how important is it to recall your past, and how does it possibly help? For me, that’s easily answered. It gives me a lot of pleasure to look back on my past. The other day, as my wife and I resumed our efforts to downsize and get ready for our move to a retirement community in late March, we ran across a box filled with my Mother’s collection of newspaper articles about my sports accomplishments in high school and suddenly memories that were archived long ago come flooding back: I could see the bright lights over the football field that all three local high schools (Garden, Grundy, Hurley) shared for Friday night games. Our “Home” bleachers were always filled, and I knew every single person sitting there. Many of the fathers paced up and down the rope line that separated the fans from the players, urging us to do great things. There was tremendous excitement everywhere. Our cheerleaders, who were decked out in green and white (our school colors–go Garden Green Dragons) and were some of the prettiest and smartest in our school, were located just down the line from the players’ bench. They could effortlessly whip our fans into a frenzy! The year was 1958 and I, a 17-year-old senior, was having the time of my life.
Now, as an 80-year-old man staring down at Mom’s collection, there was a blast of silence. Where had all the time between those years and now gone? Had I lived, a rewarding life filled with happiness and caring, or had I selfishly wasted too many days? Was I guilty of always waiting for tomorrow, or had I made each day count? Looking back through my journal helps me decide. When I come across a day without an entry, I’m always disappointed. To me, that now is a wasted day. If I failed to make an entry, I’m always suspicious that it wasn’t noteworthy.
What happens to my journal after I transition over to the other side in a few years? Hopefully, my daughter and three granddaughters will one day take a glance. Maybe 75 years from now, my three great-grandchildren will want to read what I have written. I have 178 missives on my website, and they will survive for many years. You know the old saying: once you put something on the web, it stays there forever. 😊 Well, I’m not sure about the “forever” thing. Winston Churchill said, “You make a living by what you earn; you make a life by what you give.”
I hope I have done that sufficiently. The Bard gave me pause when he wrote: “I wasted time and now time waste me” –Richard II. Sadly, I’m inclined to believe that’s true.
⌘ As I mentioned above, we are moving into a retirement community in about 40 days and have to downsize from 3,400 square feet to 1765 square feet. Both of us have been “collecting stuff” for 60 years. Admittedly, a lot of it should have been discarded many years ago, but some of it will be hard to let go. I think it will be easier for me to toss things than my wife, but it will be stressful for both of us. Our retirement community coordinator has assured us that the firm they recommended will do everything (pack, move, unpack) and all we have to do is sit back and watch. She says her company will pay 40% of the cost. We will live in one of 32 cottages located around the perimeter of the center’s compound and will be next door to a couple who attend our church. Our friends have assured us the move will be gratifying.
I downloaded a piece of software (Room Arranger) on my PC that allows me to draw the dimensions of our cottage’s floor plan and, after measuring the size of each piece of furniture, place it with confidence in each room, rearranging it at will to see how we like the placement. The hardest part was drawing the floor plan to specifications. I have completed placing the furniture in all the rooms, and with my wife’s approval, we know exactly where everything will go. 😊
I know I will no longer be cutting the grass, getting up gumballs and pinecones, or putting down fertilizer and grass seed. My wife will no longer need to keep up with her yard/gardening chores, or cook, because they furnish us one meal a day (dinner), and we eat mostly cereal/toast/oatmeal for breakfast, and sandwiches for lunch. Our life will differ vastly from what it is now, and I think we are ready for the change. There will be more time for reading, writing, taking long walks, and weightlifting. Of course, travel will be high on our priority list after restrictions are lifted, and we will be glad to visit our far-flung family and friends. I think the biggest aggravation for me during the battle with COVID-19 has been the inability to see all the people we love. But I know that those people who have to work face a totally different set of problems and mine pale in comparison. Kinda makes me feel like I shouldn’t complain.
Albert Camus said, “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” Now that’s a thought I want to hold on to.