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A Recurrence Of The Sayonara Syndrome

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By JOE KLOCK

Klockwork

Published: February 13, 2008

This seems to happen every 10 years or so, but not without forewarning and a reasonable explanation.
For many decades, in print and on the lecture platform, I've thrown out this life line to people of all ages and backgrounds on several continents: Whenever you get the feeling that you're not making the best use of your time and energy, ask yourself a simple question: "Am I happy doing what I'm doing now or would I rather be doing something else?" If the answers are yes and no, respectively, smile a while, then continue doing it.
If your gut responses, though, are no and yes, follow up with a second query: "Do I have any acceptable alternative?" If the response is "not really" or "hell, no," just knuckle down and keep on keeping on until you can choose to change course and live with the results.
Whenever you can honestly say that you're free to opt for a more attractive choice, just go for it.
Understand, I'm anything but an unhappy guy, but something very persuasively tells me that the time has come for my "manopause" — a change of lifestyle. (Been wanting to use that term for quite a while and it presently seems to fit.)
After writing more than a thousand opinion columns — creeping up on No. 500 in the current series — I'm in no danger of running out of material and, in fact, my "idea hive" is bigger and buzzier than ever.
Neither do I deny the emotional catharsis of ranting about subjects of my personal choice, the satisfaction of seeing my stuff in print, the stimulus of reader feedback and the genuine pleasure of word play. (I wonder why people bother to write fiction when real life is the literary equivalent of such perpetual wellsprings as Old Faithful and the La Brea Tar pits.)
What's making me a bit unhappy is that these benefits are being bought with an increasing drain on the amount of the time I can count on, at 81-plus years. (Let's face it, gang; the average present age of those born in 1926 is already deceased.)
Thus, it makes nothing but sense to chip away at the unfinished business of my life, which I simply have not been doing.
This includes a mountain of unread books, a number of personal goals unreached and some embezzlement of the leisure hours I should be sharing with Firstwife and Bestfriend (they being a party of one, by the way).
To make a long story longer (one of my stronger suits, as regular readers know), today is the last of my self-imposed weekly deadlines for new op-ed material, although loyal editors and subscribers will continue to receive reruns and an occasional burst of fresh curmudgeonry.
Meanwhile — and, frankly, only when I damn well please — I'll be getting back to long-neglected projects, such as a second collection of op-ed columns and a book-length opus entitled "Are Women From Malls And Men From Penis?" (Yes, that's copyrighted, so don't mess with it!)
I'll also be shoveling through a fertile compost heap of notes, outlines and "gonnado's" toward the objective of clearing the decks for inaction.
Until fresh meat of suitable sort appears, my existing body of work lies in naked repose at www.joeklock.com — some for free and the rest available at almost embarrassingly modest cost.
Will I someday return to the treadmill of weekly columny? A long time ago, a close pal and valued mentor gave me this sage counsel: "Never say never, never say always, always say maybe."
Aside: If more people on this troubled planet followed that precept, it would be a better place in which to live, work, play, hold office and stay married.
So, like the late Sophie Tucker, a bad penny, the common cold and Rocky Balboa, maybe I'll come back with a weekly rant, as I've done in the past.
In pondering the vast acreage of paperspace I've sodded with words, I can honestly say that the past has been fun for the most part and, I hope in small part, successful. My intention has always been to stimulate thought, rather than win agreement and, when possible, to entertain without offending.
So, this latest of my sayonaras is neither tinged with sadness nor regrets nor certain finality.
It's simply time to pause, sniff some neglected flowers and nose around for whatever new scents might be in the future winds.
See ya later; stay tuned!

Freelance writer Joe Klock Sr. (joeklock@aol.com) is a winter Floridian who summers in New Hampshire. More of his "Klockwork," can be found at www.joeklock.com.

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