How Close Is The Cliff?

From time to time, I pester the kids about making a decision when I think they're procrastinating and I think the choice is either obvious or perishable. I've been pondering the source of my nagging and what life's general problem statement might be. I decided that the analogy I'd like to use is walking towards a cliff.

Taking my own life, here's where I am right now. I turn 61 this year. For me, the cliff might be mental degradation, physical disability or death. I have no idea how far off that cliff might be. It could be twenty years or it could be a month. If my father is any guide, I realistically have about 9 more productive years in me. His third career was art and his paintings from his 70s are not nearly as good as the ones from his 60s.

The choice I have in front of me is what to do with that time before I reach the edge of the cliff. Do I take up novel writing? Book writing in general? Art of some kind or perhaps involvement in one of the many Catholic ministries available to me? Do I start a new one?

Currently, I'm working full time. That's quite lucrative and it allows me to send money to a priest in Malawi, Africa whose parishioners are facing famine because the war in Ukraine disrupted their supplies of fertilizer. That's OK as far as it goes, but it's not really making a decision. By postponing retirement for another 18 months, by not making a decision, I'm actually making one. That is, each month that goes by closes off an avenue I might explore or a goal I might achieve.

Changing has its risks, but holding steady brings with it risks as well. Time is not an infinite resource. I am very aware of that cliff and what it means because I nursed my parents through their final years.

When I get frustrated with the kids, it's because I don't think they can see the particular cliff in front of them. If they're single and not even dating, there's a sell-by date for starting a family. In that case, you can start adding up the months it would take to get from a dead stop to baby number one.

Optimal schedule: 12 months playing the field + 8 months serious dating + 9 months engagement + 9 months married bliss + 4 months trying to get pregnant + 9 months pregnant = 4 years 3 months. Those are pretty optimistic numbers and that gets you to only one child. I would strenuously argue for a minimum of three children. Like everything else in life, kids are a roll of the dice and you never know what you're going to get.

As a woman gets older, that time to get pregnant grows substantially. We have young friends who've had several miscarriages plus difficulty getting pregnant at all. A run of bad luck and you could see that 4 months trying to conceive a viable baby extend to 2-3 years. Giving yourself 6-12 months to recover after the birth of a child before you try to have another one and you are very quickly at the edge of the cliff.

Substitute learning how to write and sell books, getting a charity off the ground, working your way into a management position at a charity you love and you can do the same kinds of calculations.

My decision to work another 18 months puts me right up against the stops for the latest possible time to get started on a new adventure. It feels like I'm not making a decision, but I really am.

A decision to dork around this weekend instead of socializing or a decision to keep dating instead of proposing is a decision as well. When you're young and haven't had that much experience with cliffs, it doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is.

Cliffs always are.

Surprise! You're at the edge of the cliff!