A Bringer of New Things

A Master of Fine Arts at 69

The author with his newly planted veggie garden in NC and the vehicle that carried him all over Conway, AR. My shirt says, “Never underestimate an old man with a bicycle.” Photo by Shashi K. Madan.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things . . .
-From “Ulysses” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

“Retiring” is an adjective that’s never been applied to me, and if anyone’s about to start, it won’t be in my hearing. I came late to the insight that I cannot be contented long without some kind of work to do, and even in my recreational pursuits, I enjoy them most when they incite me to exert myself, or better yet, extend myself.

My final years as a psychologist were tolerable mainly because I still was learning. Psychiatric diagnostics is an art that few have time to master in these days of managed care, but I had learned the knack of sorting out the complicated cases and explaining them in terms that therapists, physicians, and group home administrators could digest. I enjoyed the challenge of it, and for several years I earned a healthy salary. That began to change when the economy tanked in 2008, and by 2012 my work had ceased to cover what it cost to live, so when I saw a chance to leave, I did.

So when I saw a chance to leave . . .