By the time a man is rounding third base in this big hardball game of life, he has discovered some valuable truths that he could have used when he was a much younger version of himself.
Some men come to these verities through spiritual exercises such as meditation, others hike off into the wilderness to commune with nature (I might do that but bears live in the wilderness) while still others dedicate themselves to helping humankind, building schools and churches and digging wells in developing lands.
A few years ago, I came to my own Epiphanous Moment, which, while a little less lofty than what other men have arrived at, is of paramount importance in my life.
That Moment of Truth for me came in the form of a little clear plastic jar filled with brown, smoothy peanut butter. I had always known about the Wondrous Butter of the Majestic Peanut and fell face first into it now and then over the years, but it wasn’t until I combined it with the Clear Orchardian Juice of the Orange that I was knocking on Heaven’s Door.
PB, OJ and JH begin communing each night about midnight and these days can be seen standing over the kitchen sink repeating the cycle again at 2, 4 and even 6 a.m. These are my Mountaintop Moments.
In light of all this, it is vitally important that an adequate supply of PB and OJ be kept on hand at all times. Especially the PB. It is possible to substitute apple juice or even lemonade for orange juice but there is no replacement for the butter of the peanut.
Since the beginning of this pandemic, I have been all but locked in a shed in the backyard as it has been determined by other household members that the virus would not be kind to me, for various reasons I don’t fully understand. I haven’t minded this situation too much but it has left me dependent on others to provide me with my necessities. That system has worked out fairly well but a tragedy befell me earlier this week when our supply of peanut butter ran out. I thought we had one jar left. I was horribly wrong.
So by last night, I had gone three nights without my vital elixir. My nerves began to fray. My patience was gone. The dog hid behind the couch and the cat behind the water heater.
Each day I was told by the Authorities that my fix was on its way and each day I was let down as this reason and that prevented grocery store visits. Finally, last night, two family members ventured out to the store on a quest to find me my peanut butter. It was their Sole Mission.
Eventually, they came home, their goods were deposited here and there and they went to bed. I said goodnight and sat on the couch with my laptop and lapdog (I have a big lap), enjoying the quiet beside the Christmas tree and looking forward to midnight.
Finally, at the appointed time, I ventured smugly to the fridge and poured myself a big glass of cold OJ. I opened the cupboard where the PB is kept to find a big empty space. Unfazed, I headed out to our heated garage where our Covid-19 supplies are kept, expecting to see at least four beautiful green-topped jars on the shelves.
There were no jars to be seen.
A wee bit concerned by this time, I pulled on my boots and went out to the car to see if a bag of groceries had been left in the back seat or the trunk. This has happened before.
Nothing.
When the tragic shopping trip was reconstructed the next morning, the sad explanation was offered that the two family members were occupied talking about Christmas and forgot about the only reason they went to the store in the first place, buying little useless bits of this and that instead.
Another important thing to focus on as your sixth decade on this earth draws to a close is Forgiveness. Sometimes, that commodity is harder to find and serve up than the butter of the peanut and the juice of the orange. Nevertheless, if we want to make it peacefully from third base to home plate and beyond, it is our challenge.
Think of me. It’s getting cold in the shed.
©2020 Jim Hagarty
