Changing the clocks

My parents’ home in northern New Jersey is small and modest, a perfect setting for an elderly, retired couple. It is not the noisy house where I grew up as the youngest of four children during the 1960s and 1970s. That house was large, with lots of stairs, lots of noise, lots of people, a few pets, and a labyrinth of rooms befitting a home that raised four kids and housed various old Italians in the latter stages of their respective lives.

Now, my parents are in those latter stages, and the challenges are many, numerous and seemingly coming at us on a daily basis. I’ve been down there many times over the past two weeks, with many more trips planned and unplanned around our busy schedule over the next few weeks. When summer arrives, even more frequent journeys down there will be made and will be needed. They need care and lots of it, probably more than me and my siblings can offer. Challenging times indeed.

You notice simple things. The calendar on the kitchen wall, the one my wife gives to them lovingly every Christmas, was on February well into March. A few of the clocks in the house – the ones that are not automated, like the cable boxes -- still haven’t caught up with the “spring ahead” from a few weekends ago. We need to change them, and we will change them, but doggone it if I can figure out the damn stove clock!

Add in my recent fall from grace on a run – still trying to sort out those injuries, some of which may be very serious and long-term – and there has been a “piling on” effect to life since the calendar turned to March. It’s arbitrary, but it does seem that the month has coincided with a lot of “stuff happens” moments in lives close to mine.

All of which makes me feel guilty about feeling burdened by a long-ago/brief spring trip to Fort Myers, Fla., where my youngest son James and I are visiting family. The trip down here was long (in fact, I am writing this during the journey and am posting it upon landing, settling in and getting Internet). JFK, the fifth busiest airport in the world according to the Flight Captain, apparently is down to one functioning runway? Are you KIDDING me? So our trip was delayed. I’m hobbled. I’m preoccupied. Mostly, I want my son to have a swell time with his cousins in the warm weather, and maybe we can watch some baseball in short sleeves and a T-shirt. That would feel real nice now, wouldn’t it?

Please understand that I am not looking for sympathy or empathy in posting here, but rather as catharsis for what has been a challenging few weeks. My writing goes in spurts. I have not had the desire to expound of late; the spirit has not moved me and quite honestly I’ve been driving around a lot. But here I am now, on a JetBlue plane with a laptop and some ideas and some time, and all I can think about are the clocks that I need to fix back in New Jersey.