Now in my late
seventies, I have been around the block a few times. I can’t pretend to have
learned everything about living the good life, and too many things I spent a
lot of time or money on are no longer useful, at least for me. For example:
- Learning how to perform a hysterectomy on a Drosophila.
- Reading with the Evelyn Wood method.
- Spotting typos in galley proofs of hand-set type.
- Learning WordStar, WordPerfect, and several other obsolete word-processing programs.
Some other things
I have learned, though, have continued to serve me well, and seem important
enough to pass on:
- Taking notes in Pitman shorthand.
- Baking with a solar oven.
- Doing basic housework for sanitation (but you don’t have to eat off the floor).
- Balancing a chemical equation.
- Doing simple statistical tests to evaluate medical claims.
- And so on.
More importantly,
I know the importance of friendship, and appreciate my friends more than when I
was younger. Though I am an introvert who prefers spending much time alone, I
have learned to place a higher priority on friendship than on accomplishment or
education. (Many years ago I told a close friend I was too busy writing a paper
to go for a walk with her. When she committed suicide a week later, I felt
partly to blame.)
Another important
lesson I should have learned when young is that drinking alcohol does not
increase happiness. For me, as for many people, the first glass of wine does
lead to relaxation and peacefulness; but it too frequently leads to a second
glass or more. Being an editor in the sixties meant taking authors to dinner,
working at National Science Teachers Association (NSTA) and other conventions
where our textbooks were advertised, and otherwise being in situations where
drinking was encouraged. I have a low tolerance for alcohol and should have
avoided it altogether; instead, I did a lot of silly or stupid things while
under the influence. When I went back to grad school later, and became a
freelance author and editor, I switched to drinking wine (especially the
inexpensive Trader Joe’s “two-buck Chuck”), but began a habit of ending every
work day with a glass or two of wine.
That much wine
sounds harmless, and for many people it is healthful, but I realized it was
more than I personally can tolerate. Occasionally I would mention my concern to
a doctor, and invariably got the “That much wine is good for you!” response.
So, I went on with mild but daily drinking. It helped me ease the pain of
becoming a widow. I’m not sure what the final effect would have been. Only when
I met my partner in 2005 did I have to face the issue. He is a teetotaler who
feels strongly about drinking, and I knew I might lose him. So, I stopped. It
was a little hard at first, like giving up on an unreliable friendship, but now
alcohol holds no appeal for me at all. Why did it take me so long to learn such
an important lesson? As the saying goes, "We grow too soon old, and too
late smart.”
