So It Goes
I was logged in on the Chappell Family Blog to take care of some WordPress updates. The administrative “Dashboard” has sections with information that might interest an administrator. One of them is “Site Health Status” and I was gratified to see “Great job! Your site currently passes all site health checks.” I don’t recall ever seeing that before. There are usually at least a couple of “fails”, although one is usually about the absence of a recommended PHP module — something beyond my control.
Moving on down the Dashboard I saw various site statistics, such as total number of posts in the blog (248 – is that all?) and total number of comments (271 – that many?). For a few moments I pondered the greater number of comments than posts. Moving on, there were dates and titles of “Recently Published” posts. It listed five, dated from 10/10/2023 to 09/14/2022. This was followed by “Recent Comments”, showing the first line or two of the most recent five comments. They were dated from 05/07/2023 to 09/15/2010. 2010? Yes, five comments in about 13 years. Well, it’s not a very big family, and I suppose the posts haven’t been what anybody would describe as earth-shaking.
So it goes.
Seniority
We still subscribe to the Lawrence Journal-World newspaper. Becky uses it to see what TV channel the KU games will be on (if any) and checks for grocery ads and coupons. I don’t read it. An old high school buddy of mine who also lives in Lawrence was a prof in the journalism school for many years. He called it the Lawrence Journal-Rag. Because of the paper subscription there’s also a digital subscription, and I let them send me daily emails that tell me what the headlines are in certain categories. (I’m getting close to the point of this story). The headline categories are “News Headlines”, “Police Blotter”, and “Obituaries”. The only one I actually open every time is “Obituaries”. You see, I’ve arrived at that age when people I know have begun dying.
After you hit 65 there comes a point in nearly every conversation with someone else in the same boat when somebody remarks, “Ever notice how we always end up talking about our health?” Yes, I’ve noticed that.
When you hit 70 your contemporaries start dying off. Dear old Dad was fond of remarking, as he approached 90, that all his friends were dead. He was proud of his age. Nevertheless, it killed him not long afterward.
I know a number of people whose family live within relatively short distances, like an hour’s drive or less. There’ll be brothers and sisters in their 65+ years with maybe one or two of their parents, along with spouses and children and grandchildren, maybe some aunts, uncles and cousins. A sizeable number will gather at someone’s house for Thanksgivings and Christmases and other holidays and family events and gatherings. Those who reach tottering age and are either home bound or nursing home bound aren’t lonely; they’ll be visited by somebody in the family probably every week, certainly once or twice a month. Somebody will drive them to the family gatherings. I don’t see this in the cards for us. We can’t afford to move to California where our other family members live. They aren’t about to move to Kansas where we live. At some point in the not too distant future we won’t be able to tolerate the physical demands of flying back and forth to visit them. Then we’ll totter, alone except for each other, for however long it takes, and, finally, die alone in Kansas.
So, that’s it. Seniority. It sucks. Not something to look forward to.
John and Becky – A Love Story
March 29, 2024
Family Matters, Life, Memory Lane
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John Chappell
John grew up outside of St. Louis, Missouri in a country schoolhouse his parents converted into a rural home. Becky grew up in Ottawa, Kansas, a small farming community southwest of Kansas City. John and Becky met each other in the summer of 1969. He had just graduated high school, she had just finished her first year of college. They were in Wichita with summer jobs working for the same company selling encyclopedias door to door. While plying their wares over the course of the summer, their traveling band of book peddlers set up shop in motels throughout Kansas, Colorado and Wyoming. By summer’s end they were in love but went their separate ways, he to Lawrence and she to Emporia, in pursuit of higher education. Love, however, prevailed and they got married in the summer of 1971. Becky left college and went to work so John could finish college, but then he tricked her by going to law school and she had to work three more years. In 1976 Becky became pregnant, John graduated from law school and passed the bar, they moved to Iola, Kansas, Stephen was born, and John won a hard-fought election to become County Attorney. He launched his legal career battling crime as a prosecuting attorney while also building a private practice. In 1979 Kimberly was born. In 1982 they moved back to Lawrence, taking the children with them. John hung out his shingle and Becky went back to work. The children grew up and moved to California. Becky finally retired from work in 2015. John took his shingle down in 2022 but continues to work some. Throughout it all, they remained madly in love, a condition that persists to this day.
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