SATISFACTION

If someone was to ask where I get personal satisfaction these days, I’d say in the garage. Many of my older male friends would echo the same.

I find no real satisfaction in writing. It’s something I do to keep busy, but otherwise the time could be better spent elsewhere.

Many hours can be burned composing a story, article, poem, or whatever. The feedback for this is generally minimal at most. For me, writing isn’t about receiving accolades or attaboys. I do it strictly to keeps the gears turning upstairs.

I asked, Renee Reeves, owner and Publisher of “The Lamar Democrat” newspaper, how she knew if readers liked the junk that her columnists wrote. She had a most interesting reply.

“It’s kind of strange. If subscribers are okay with an article, they’ll remain quiet. If they disagree, you’ll know in an Alabama minute!”

She didn’t actually use the words Alabama minute, but the terminology Renee used did equate to such.

Aunt Dora worked on crossword puzzles most of her 99-years and she was an expert at it. I’m not sure Dora did so out of enjoyment or merely to keep her mind sharp. Perhaps it was a little of both?

In my garage, I create things that get raves amongst the mechanical crowd. There’s something uplifting about fixing up an old car or truck, and then driving it somewhere to have someone give a thumbs up. This silent applause can be long lasting.I suppose artists get the same high whenever they see a crowd gather ’round their artwork.

I asked my wife where she got her most satisfaction. Joleen’s answer without hesitation was,

“Being around the grandchildren!”

I could utter the same but our little ones are a thousand miles away. I asked the same question again, this time informing her that I meant personal satisfaction during the time the grandkids weren’t close by.

It took her a bit longer to answer this go-around. After a few minutes of pondering, she narrowed it down being outside in the fresh air while walking Simon, and afterwards, quietly sitting out back watching and listening to wildlife.

“Rolling Stones” lead singer, Mick Jagger, sings a popular 1960’s song about not getting any satisfaction. The man has eight grandchildren and one great-grandchild. That should be satisfaction enough but evidently it isn’t.

I’m sure he’s not into doing crossword puzzles or writing junk, but he’s brilliant at composing music. That leaves me to believe,

“Mick needs a garage!”

There’ll come a day when I have to rely upon writing as a form of satisfaction. The glorious garage days won’t last forever. My back’s no longer able to do the things I could a few years ago because of vertebrae problems. Years of lifting and carrying heavy objects eventually weakened things. Pushing my luck on continuing to do herculean tasks could spell disaster.

The cliche, “Home is where the heart is!” holds merit. I added one final line to that age-old-saying.

“Home is where the heart is. A garage is where satisfaction begins!”