Chapter Twenty-Two - The Declining Years, Waiting for the Fat Lady
I do not have a job and am on a very limited income. I was
forced to discontinue my Bulletin Board System as I could no longer
afford it and did not have a computer capable of running a decent BBS.
Scott Gray, a friend in the military at Fort McClellan, went in the
computer business and sold me a 386 DX 40 MHZ computer on monthly
payments, at cost, and with no interest. I have spent a lot of my time
running bulletin boards but have reached the point where I can no longer
afford to run one. (But I am running it anyway.)
So where do I go from here? I am too old to get a job. People
seventy three years old are not employable. No one wants to be around
them. Actually, I am going nowhere. Frances broke her hip in February of
1993, and I spent most of my time at home taking care of her. She could
do almost nothing for herself. She sat in a chair in the kitchen all day
watching television and I did the cleaning, cooking, laundry and all the
other assorted chores. I did not mind the work. I was bothered by the
confinement as I had to be there for her all the time. I did not resent
it. I was supposed to be there for her. Then January 9, 1995 my beloved
Frances fell and broke her arm and her other hip and eleven days later,
January 20, 1995, she passed away.
The simple answer to the question of who cares is that no one
cares anymore. What is one old man to anyone? The right answer is no
one. I am not in a feeling sorry for myself mood. I have nothing to feel
sorry about. The truth is that the fat lady is about ready to sing on
me. I will soon be gone and long be forgotten. I regret only that there
will not be time to do some of the things I have always wanted to do.
The picture of the trail in the woods reminds me of the long trail I
have followed in getting to this point.
May I remind you that these few words below are how I would like
to be remembered:
Test of a Manager
The test of a Manager is the fight that he makes
The grit that he daily shows.
The way he stands on his feet and takes
Fate's numerous bumps and blows.
A coward can smile when the risk is small,
When there's nothing his progress to quench.
But it takes a man to stand straight and tall,
And never give an inch.
It isn't the victory after all,
But the fight that a brother makes.
The manager who, driven against a wall,
Still stands erect and takes
The blows of fate with never a flinch,
Is the man who'll win in the by and by,
For he'll stand his ground what ere the fight
And never give an inch.
It's the bumps you get and the jolts you get
And the shocks that your courage stands.
The hours of sorrow and vain regret,
The prize that escapes your hands
That test your mettle and prove your worth.
For it isn't the hours of toil at the bench,
But the blows you take on the good old earth,
That show your stuff, so---
N E V E R G I V E A N I N C H ! !
|Mike Stultz & Deb Clay|
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