The seasons every boomer experiences

As baby boomers, we can only be realistic about our stage in life: we are an older generation, one of the oldest alive today. That doesn’t mean we must be morose about our age, just mindful. And that’s what longtime journalist Rolland Smith, now of Rifton, New York, writes about today. Having been a New York City television anchorman, a White House correspondent, and a CBS News Morning Show host, Smith has lived a big life. But now, in retirement, his world is smaller, and his perspective perhaps fresh, and welcome.

I saw my first leaf of fall tumble to the ground this morning. Its color was Aspen gold, and it made a gentle, almost slow-motion descent as it twisted, turned and glided to its rest.

How fleeting the seasons are these December days of my life. Each one blends into the other in rapid succession, no wonder I have trouble remembering what day it is.

Life is like that. Youth is a fast slow, often cumbersome in its pace to learn, to grow, to experience.

Rolland Smith

Middle age is a constant desire to accomplish and even complete things for the future expectations of senior comfort.

Then comes the surprise gift of old age. A time of introspection and the freeing of past regrets. A time for loving yourself for just surviving this density and constriction of time.

Like the leaf that fell this morning, I do not worry about the end. Endings always have a beginning. Nature gives us the seasons to remind us that change is the only constant. Wonder is often the consequence.

Be well, my friends; I have emerged from the chrysalis of silence.

4 Comments

  1. Ironic that I should come across this post after finding an old photographs from when I visited the news station around 1990.

    As president of our local chapter of the Hearing Loss Association of America, I was invited to come by while you were an anchor and I witnessed the very first captioning of the 10:00 pm news at the station. Both you and I had dark hair, and now both of us have grey tresses. Time passes. Leaves fall. How lucky each of us are to anticipate another season.

    Many Septembers have come and gone, and they have always proven to be a time for beginnings and endings for me. Babies born, loved ones lost, anniversaries and sad remembrances. Still, the simplicity of a fallen leave mesmerizes us and gives us joy.

    Peace to you and wishing you many more introspective seasons.

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