Showing posts with label Hobbies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hobbies. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 8, 2024

A conversation with an old friend. The Good Death, and the Good Life and Existential Occupations.


A really old friend of mine and I were talking about it just last week.

I had to catch up with him as he was working on something for me.  It was Friday, but I was fairly formally dressed and he noted it. The reason was that I had just come from my uncle's funeral earlier that day.  He extended his sympathies, but I noted that my uncle had lived a long and good life.  Not a life free of troubles, as no such thing existed, but a long life, that was well lived, and he'd remained sharp right up until the end.  His health had declined in recent years, but only in very recent ones.  It was the last few months that were rough.

My friend and I, who first knew each other as National Guardsmen back in the 80s, are co-religious.  Neither of us was married when we first met, but both of us have, and have seen our kids grow up since then.  And of course, we've seen our parents pass away, his before mine.  He has siblings, which I do not, and one of his brothers died, only in his 50s.  I noted that in the Middle Ages, people often prayed for good deaths, and he noted that a prayer group that he's in now does that every week.

Prayer for a Happy Death

O God, great and omnipotent judge of the living and the dead, we are to appear before you after this short life to render an account of our works. Give us the grace to prepare for our last hour by a devout and holy life, and protect us against a sudden and unprovided death. Let us remember our frailty and mortality, that we may always live in the ways of your commandments. Teach us to "watch and pray" (Lk 21:36), that when your summons comes for our departure from this world, we may go forth to meet you, experience a merciful judgment, and rejoice in everlasting happiness. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

I'm constantly amazed by people who work into old age, as I'd judge it, and keeping working.  A dear friend of mine, now in his 70s, noted that just the other day.  He doesn't have to, he just is.  Likewise, I know a collection of lawyers who fit that description.  The law is a hard job, surrounded by hard facts, hard people, and difficult scenarios

I think they just know nothing else, their real personalities, perhaps, burnt to the core eons ago.

In contrast, I'm also constantly amazed by those who have extensive plans for their retirements well before they can retire.  Another friend of mine fits this category, but when I look at him, I can tell his physical condition is so poor it'd be amazing if he lives long enough to retire.  It's one of those things where you don't know what to say.  If you were to be blunt, you'd say that the dreams of early retirement are probably forlorn, but that his dreams of retiring at all may be foreclosed by a bad early death, if some correction isn't made soon, and those corrections are harder to make once you are past your 30s.

The call came to my wife on Saturday.  I could tell from the tone what the topic was, without even being told.  A relative of hers was on his way to the hospital by helicopter.  Even though he was being sent in, in that fashion, I knew, but did not say it, that he'd not make it.  I'm not even sure if he wanted to.

And so another death.

In this case, unlike my uncle, he was much younger.  My age, in fact.  I hadn't seen him for many years, and before his troubles really set in.  He hadn't been able to adjust to them well.  The most common comment from people, none of whom were surprised, was that his torment was over.

I don't have any big plans, like one of my friends, for retirement.  I hope to be healthy, and just become more of an agrarian-killetarian than I presently am.  Funny thing is that recently I've been running into people who claim "you're looking really good". Somebody asked me the other day, indeed at the funeral gathering, "you're working out", the question in the form of a statement.  Not really.

Indeed, I've gained some weight I seemingly just can't lose, which I think is the byproduct of my thyroid medicine, which has made me hungry, and I know that I'm not in the physical condition I was before my recent health troubles commenced.  People close to me just won't accept that, which brings me to the other side of the retirement coin noted above.  Some lawyers I know are already planning for me to work into my 70s, as that's the thing to do, apparently. Long-suffering spouse, for her part, won't say something like that, but from an ag family, she doesn't really accept the concept of retirement anyhow.  Having said that, I wouldn't plan on my retiring from the ag operation either.

It finally occured to me, however, what's different about agricultural jobs as opposed to others, at least if you are an owner of the enterprise or part of it.  The occupation itself is existentially human.  It is, if you will, an Existential Occupation, or at least it is right now. The mindless gerbil like advance of "progress" may ruin that and reduce it to just another occupation.

Existential Occupations are ones that run with our DNA as a species.  Being a farmer/herdsman is almost as deep in us as being a hunter or fisherman, and it stems from the same root in our being.  It's that reason, really, that people who no longer have to go to the field and stream for protein, still do, and it's the reason that people who can buy frozen Brussels sprouts at Riddleys' still grown them on their lots.  And its the reason that people who have never been around livestock will feel, after they get a small lot, that they need a cow, a goat, or chickens.  It's in us.  That's why people don't retire from real agriculture.

It's not the only occupation of that type, we might note.  Clerics are in that category.  Storytellers and Historians are as well.  We've worshiped the Devine since our onset as a species, and we've told stories and kept our history as story the entire time.  They're all existential in nature.  Those who build certain things probably fit into that category as well, as we've always done that.  The fact that people tinker with machinery as a hobby would suggest that it's like that as well.

Indeed, if it's an occupation. . . and also a hobby, that's a good clue that its an Existential Occupation.

If I were to retire from my career, which I can't right now, I wouldn't be one of those people who spend their time traveling to Rome or Paris or wherever.  I have very low interest in doing that.  I'd spend my time writing, fishing, hunting, gardening (and livestock tending).  That probably sounds pretty dull to most people.  I could imagine myself checking our Iceland or Ireland, or fjords in Norway, but I likely never will.

What I can't imagine myself doing is imagining that age and decline don't occur, and that I should be in court in my 70s.  I don't think that the lawyers who do that realize that younger lawyers don't admire that, and most of the lawyers I'm running into in court are younger than me now.  

And indeed, frankly, it isn't admirable.  People who work a hard non-existential job and keep at it into their advanced old age, or at least past their 7th decade, have just lost something they were when they were young, and much of that is themselves.  They've lost who they were.

AN ACT OF FAITH IN ANTICIPATION OF THE HOUR OF DEATH

From the works of St. Pompilio M. Pirrotti

On my journey toward eternity, dear Lord,

 

I am surrounded  by powerful enemies of my soul.

I live in fear and trembling,

especially at the thought of the hour of death,

on which my eternity will depend,

and of the fearful struggle that the devil will then have to wage against me,

knowing that little time is left for him to accomplish my eternal ruin.

I desire, therefore, O Lord,

to prepare myself for it from this hour,

by offering you now, in view of my last hour,

my profession of faith and love for you,

which is so effectual in repressing and rendering useless

all the crafty and wicked schemes of the enemy

and which I resolve to oppose to him at that moment of such grave consequence,

even though he should dare alone to attack with his deceits

the peace and tranquility of my spirit.


I N.N.,

in the presence of the Most Holy Trinity,

the blessed Virgin Mary,

my holy Guardian Angel

and the entire heavenly host,

affirm that I wish to live and die under the standard of the Holy Cross.


I firmly believe all that our Holy Mother,

the holy, catholic and apostolic Church,

believes and teaches.

It is my steadfast intention to die in this holy faith,

in which all the holy martyrs, confessors and virgins of Christ have died,

as well as all those who have saved their souls.


If the devil should tempt me to despair

because of the multitude and grievousness of my sins,

I affirm that from this day forth

I firmly hope in the infinite mercy of God,

which will not let itself be overcome by my sins,

and in the Precious Blood of Jesus

which has washed all my sins away.


If the devil should assail me with temptations to presumption

by reason of the small amount of good

which by the help of God

I may have been able to accomplish,

I confess from this day forth

that I deserve eternal separation from God

a thousand times by my sins

and I entrust myself entirely

to the infinite goodness of God,

through whose grace alone I am what I am.


Finally, if the evil spirit should suggest to me

that the pains inflicted upon me by our Lord

in that last hour of my life

are too heavy to bear,

I affirm now that all will be as nothing

in comparison with the punishments I have deserved throughout life.

In the bitterness of my soul

I call to remembrance all my years;

I see my iniquities, I confess them and detest them.

Ashamed and sorrowful I turn to you,

my God, my Creator and my Redeemer.

Forgive me, O Lord, by the multitude of your mercies;

forgive your servant whom you have redeemed by your Precious Blood.


My God, I turn to you, I call upon you, I trust in you;

 to your infinite goodness

I commit the entire reckoning of my life.

I have sinned greatly, O Lord:

 enter not into judgment with your servant,

who surrenders to you

and confesses his guilt.

Of myself I cannot make satisfaction to you for my countless sins:

I do not have the means to pay you for my infinite debt.

But your Son has shed his Blood for me,

and greater than all mine sins is your mercy.


O Jesus, be my Saviour!

At the hour of my fearful crossing to eternity

put to flight the enemy of my soul;

grant me grace to overcome every difficulty,

for you alone do mighty wonders.


Lord,

according to the multitude of your tender mercies

I shall enter into your dwelling place.

Trusting in your pity,

I commend my spirit into your hands!


May the Blessed Virgin Mary

and my Guardian Angel

accompany my soul into the heavenly country. Amen.

We should all hope and indeed pray for a happy death.  And perhaps we should pray for a happy life, which is one worthwhile.  That doesn't, quite frankly, include the "I'm going to work here at my desk until I die".  That's surrendering to fear or meaningless, in most cases.

Again, there are exceptions.  People with Existential Occupations, people who own their own special business, and the like.  The list can't really be set out in full.

That doesn't include pouring through the latest edition of the IRS code for deductions, or reading the Restatement (Second) of Torts, or engineering an oilfield implement. 

Friday, February 4, 2022

Magnet Fishing Surprise: South Florida Man, Grandson Reel In Sniper Rifles


No, they didn't.

From the looks of it, they reeled in two AR platform rifles.  Not sniper rifles.

It's interesting, but either ignorance or a sense of drama miscast the story.

Magnet fishing itself looks interesting.  Anyone here do it?

Wednesday, January 12, 2022

Ham Salad and Other Radio Laments.

No, not that kind of ham.

No, Ham Radio.

My Dodge D3500 recently had a Wouxun KG-1000G GMRS radio installed in it.  GMRS is not Ham.  Prior to that, I swapped the MXT115 I have back and forth between the Jeep and the D3500.

So what, you may ask.

Well, radio is a bit addictive in some ways.

Which leads to this thread.

The last time I had anything to do with a vehicle mounted radio, it was a military radio. The PRC 77, to be specific.


PRC 77 radio (top) with KY 38 encryption device in Vietnam.

And that's to say that I know nothing at all about radios in a real sense.  

The PRC 77 would jack into a vehicle mount, after which it clipped into a big whip antenna.  It had great range, I thought, but according to Wikipedia its actual range was five miles.  If that's correct, well that's really pretty sucky, frankly.

Anyhow, it was a giant sized field radio that could operate from your Jeep or truck or whatever.  I called in a lot of artillery with the PRC77 from a ground mount and giant ground antenna.

When the kids were small, I picked up hand held "walkie-talkies".  I thought they'd be really cool for hunting and fishing and, in fact, they really are.  The entire time, I kept thinking that I wish I had a vehicle mount that would work with them.

In my naïveté, I thought that they were all "CB" radios.  Nope, they're not.  Not even close, as it turns out.  CBs are in the 27 MHz range and are technically really low powered shortwave radios.  No license is required to use them.  The little hand helds, on the other hand, are low powered FRS radios in the UHF bands.  They have much superior performance, apparently, than CBs do/did.  As they're up in the 462 to 467 MHz bandwidth, they don't communicate at all with CBs.

And then there's GMRS.

GMRS is up in that range as well, in the upper range, but can go up to 50 watts of power.  The little FRS radios put out a fraction of that.   GMRS radios require a license to operate.

I had no idea of that until I bought a truck mounted Midland, the aforementioned MXT115.  Reading the stuff that came with it (yes, I actually read the owner's manuals) I learned I needed a license.  So, I got one, and a nifty call sign and all of that.

The MXT115 is a 15 watt GMRS radio.  I had meant to get the MXT400, but I saw the MXT115 in a sporting goods store and assumed that's what it was.  Nope, the MXT400 is a 40 watt radio, and as I was soon to learn, that's not the only difference.

Anyhow, the MXT115 was and is neat.  Now I could call the handhelds from my Jeep or pickup.  And the range was better. .  on the broadcasting end. On the receiving end, it's incredibly dependent upon line of sight.  Something in the way, it's going nowhere.  But I was happy.  I got 25 miles on it with one test, and that was to and from a handheld.

On the other hand, only getting 2 or 3 miles is pretty common as well, it is in town.

And then I went to Denver.

Around here, there's little radio traffic in the FRS/GMRS bandwidth. But in Denver there are piles of it.  But oddly, I couldn't check in on what I was hearing.  "Radio test" brought no replies.  How odd, I thought.

Well, in looking it up, I found out that this is because the Denver radio traffic is all on repeaters, with programmed in input and output.  The MXT115 receives and broadcasts on the same channel, which makes sense, but repeater clubs don't like that, so use "split tones" to restrict their broadcasting and reception.  

Which caused me to learn that the GMRS folks in repeater clubs have all programmed their radios.  In looking that up, I learned, after much searching, that the MXT400 . . . of that era (a mere couple of years ago) could be programmed, but you really had to do a bunch of workarounds to learn it.  Apparently, actually doing it is really simple.  Midland didn't seem to want people to do it, but it can be done.

And that led me to believe it can be done for the MXT115 as well.  Indeed, as I frankly suspected, but don't know, that the difference between the MXT115 and the MXT400 isn't all that great, I was, and am, tempted to try it now that I know how to do it with the MXT400.

I have done it for my Wouxun KG-1000G, although I'm not quite sure if I did it right.

The reason, I'm not sure, is since then I bought a new MXT115 (radios are addictive) and it was easily programmable.  And it now picks up repeaters that are far beyond the range that I'm supposed to be able to pick them up at.

Why did I get another?

Well, I received as a gift a unit built out of a small ammo can that makes the MXT115 into a mobile radio, for use basically as a camping base station. 

And I do use it.

But using it meant that I had to pull the radio from my Jeep.  That was okay if I was using the Dodge, but not the Jeep.  I bought, therefore, a second MXT115, but that was right before they introduced the programmable model.

Fortunately, um. . . unfortunately, that one was defective, so I soon bought the programmable one.  I love it.  

And now Midland has dropped its MXT500, which brings me back to this thread which has been pending for months.

I really love my Wouxun KG-1000G, but I'm tempted by the somewhat more expensive MXT500 as it appears to be a radio, like the MXT115, that I can simply pull from my vehicle when I'm in town so that it doesn't get stolen, something that's a useful feature for a convertible.  

Now, practically anyone anywhere in the GMRS radio world is on several GMRS Facebook forums and some websites. And, no matter what, you're going to get these conversations on them.

The new MXT500 just dropped, anyone getting one?

Argh, you dumb bastard, why would you buy Midland, you should buy a dozen old Kenwoods and reprogram them yourself using Subotai's Underground Programming modual from Ulaanbaatar. . .don't you know any better?

But I just want a good radio out of the box.

What are you, some kind of lazy slug, while when I had the Radio Rating as a Mess Mate from my service during the Spanish American War. . . um, anyhow, get some used Kenwoods from Bob's Country Radio Bunker and program them yourself.

But Kenwood programming sucks, Dave, you know that.

Sure it sucks, but Midlands are crap.

Why are the crap?

Because they're easy to use right out of the box, you ignorant sot. Why when I reprogrammed the radio on the Yamamoto in 43, say has anyone seen the Japanese Hentai Yamamoto. . she's hot.

This will go on for some time.

Sooner or later, you'll get this.

Skip GMRS, go for Amateur Radio.

But I want to be able to talk to my friends and family when we're camping and. . .

Oh nonsense, if your friends won't get a Ham License, they aren't your real friends. . .and you can always get a new family.

Probably all hobbies are like this.

Now, there are some super GMRS folks out there, particularly the folks who run the websites, so I may be casting way too broad of net.  And they're super helpful.  But this does occur. . . 

Thursday, December 30, 2021

Every once and awhile. . .

Every once in a while what you're doing, how you are going about doing it, how you have done it, and what that means can hit you like a ton of bricks.


You've known it all along, most likely.

Down in the parking lot where I park every day, there used to be a car with a sticker that said this on it:

We all do things we say we never would

Soccer Mom

Quite true.

I suppose that's similar, in a way, the more grim

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation

Henry David Thoreau

Or not.

And then there's the observation by the observant:

Fr. Joseph Krupp
@Joeinblack
#talkedtotheboss He said there is no place where we can stop & think “I’m good where I am.” We are called to a state of blessed discontentment; where we recognize the blessings of where we are while striving to know more & love more. Never stop growing.… instagr.am/p/CX_Ha-bLcZ8/

That, we might note, is called Blessed Discontentment, or Holy Discernment.

I frankly think there's a lot to that.  I feel that from time to time, maybe frankly most of the time.  But in my selfish way I'm not really grateful for it.

I'd like to feel contentment, quite frankly, but the origin of my present discontent isn't, I think, of the blessed variety so much as it is of the "Yeoman, you're an idiot", variety.

Added to that, I think, is the affliction of Generation Jones, that being that we're pretty risk-adverse.  Or maybe we're like my father's generation, the Silent Generation, in that we feel we have to make huge sacrifice as by and large, we're not going to take the brass ring anyway, and better hang on to what we got. 

I dunno. . . 

Maybe it's my father's life being disrupted by the early death of his father, and then mine being disrupted by the early death of mine, preceded by the extreme illness of my mother for many years prior to his death.

Still, there's something to it.  The art of compromise for a greater purpose over pursuit of dollars, which is the only American alternative, has merites to it.  Entire cultures, in fact, once prized that, over what we do, that being apparently only money.

None of which is much salve for the first thing noted here.

Or for the fact that time runs out.  Americans like to believe "your never too old", but you can be.

For example, the maximum age to go to work for the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service is 37 years old.  Not that old.  Does that makes sense?  I don't know, but it's likely based on young people being in better physical shape than old ones, and the need for a person to be able to retire from Federal service by age 60.

The current maximum age to join the U.S. Army is 35 years old. And that's for active duty or any of its reserve components. For awhile it was up around 40, but they've apparently dropped it back down.  That age is 28 for the Marine Corps. . . 28.  It's 39 for the Navy and Air Force (38 for Air Force reservists), so they'll take "older" enlistees.  It'a a bottoms out at 27 for the Coast Guard, which will take reservists up to 38.

You get the point, however.  If you are sitting in your cubicle in Boston watching the Coast Guard cutters go out, and you are thinking, "you know, my job at Amalgamated Amalgamated sucks, I think I'll join the Coast Guard!", and you are 30, you aren't.

The Canadian military, I'd note, is the real outlier, FWIW.  A national "never too old" policy, and something to do with how Canadian old age pensions work, caused the Canadian government to up their maximum enlistment age, or commission age, to 57 years old.

Truly. This is what their recruitment page states (I just looked it up for this super interesting thread):

To join as a
Non-Commissioned Member (NCM) 

Non-Commissioned Members are skilled personnel who provide operational and support services in the CAF. Non-Commissioned Members start out as recruits and are trained to do specific jobs.

To join as an
Officer 

Officers in the CAF hold positions of authority and respect. They are responsible for the safety, well-being and morale of a group of soldiers, sailors, air men or air women. Analyzing, planning, making decisions and providing advice are a few aspects of an Officer’s role.

You are between 16 and 57 years old.

If you are under 18 years old, you will need permission from your parent or guardian.

You are between 16 and 57 years old.

If you are under 18 years old, you will need permission from your parent or guardian.

You are a Canadian citizen.

You are a Canadian citizen.

You have completed Grade 10 or Secondary IV (Quebec).

You have completed Grade 10 or Secondary IV (Quebec).

You have, or are working towards, a Bachelor's Degree.

If you do not meet this requirement, you may be eligible for one of our Paid Education programs.

I meet all the criteria save for one.  I'm 58.

Not that I was going to call the recruiting department, I wan't, but if I were, the answer I'd get is "go away, you geezer, eh?"

Makes sense, really. Who wants to serve under a 58 year old lieutenant who's a veteran of the US reserves system.  "Why back in the day. . . "

Indeed, as the long-suffering readers of this blog know, all two or three of you, we've been doing day by day playbacks from the early 40s recently here, and had been doing the same for the late 10s and early 20s.  This relates to the ostensible purpose of this blog.  A person had to serve in the Frontier Army for 40 years in order to draw a pension, which very few enlistment men did, but which also explains why promotions were glacially slow in the Regular Army.  Around 1900, however, the system was changed to allow early retirement after 30 years of service, with 75% of the benefit drawn, reduced to 60s% in 1924.  That system also evolved in that time period such that, at first, if you had 40 years in the service you were put in the "retired list", absent some unusual exception.  As a practical matter, that meant most servicemen left by age 60, if they were career men.  In the early 20th Century, however, that was changed so that at age 64 you had to go.

This system was changed again just prior to World War Two as Gen. George Marshall wanted to clear out as many old soldiers as he could before the U.S. entered a new mechanized war.  Tired of older ossified officers like Chief of Cavalry John Knowles Herr, he managed to bring in a 20 year early retirement system, again scaled so that those retiring didn't receive a full pension, and the mandatory retirement age dropped to 60.  He then simply sidetracked most of the senior commanders in their 50s.  Herr, I'd note, retired in 1945 at age 56, his career wrecked by his refusal to ever acknowledge that the age of the horse was over.

That system is the one the military still has, and most law enforcement agencies have it as well.  Given the physical and mental toll that being a policemen seems to have on people, that makes sense.  At least by my observation, after twenty years, most are ready to retire. 

Not all, however, as the Wyoming Game & Fish Department used to require its wardens to retire at age 60, but some jerk occupying that position sued them and won, so now you don't have to retire.  I'm 58, and I thought about becoming a Game Warden when I was young.  If I could retire at 60 years old, I'd do it.  

Or so I claim.

A similiar age restriction, I'd note, exists to become a Catholic Deacon.  It varies by diocese, but at some point people age out.  So, roughly, if you've been hearing a call to be a Deacon for your whole life and decide to act on it by, let's say, age 60, or in some areas, age 50, you are too late.

Being privately employed, and employed in a field where seemingly nobody ever retires, its actually difficult to imagine how retirement comes about.  It's even more difficult for those around you to imagine it.  Having said that, I could imagine my father retiring and urged him to do so.  He was a professional also, but not a lawyer.  He died at age 62, having never retired.

That's a bit haunting frankly.  He never retired, but he was awfully tired.  I receive occasional thanks for things he did even now, some 30 years or so after his death, which I appreciate but which also shows me how much he was identified by what he did.  By his late 50s it was clear to me, as he was frank about it, that he'd had enough and he wanted to retire.  I kept urging him to do it, but I was in university and he probably worried about the expense.  I told him not to, that I'd be fine.  I'd been in the National Guard as an undergrad, and I was willing to go back in as a law student.  Indeed, I'd gotten out of the Guard as I'd believed the fable that law school is hard (any idiot can graduate from law school, truly), and didn't think I'd have time to be a Guardsmen.  It turned out that I would have, and by my last two years I was well aware of that.

Well, he didn't retire.  He was holding out for 63.  He didn't make it.  What hopes and goals were lost in that?  I know a few which were irretrievably lost. . . or maybe not.

In some odd ways, perhaps because of my age, I tend to feel worse about people who experience that late career death than I do those who die in their 40s, oddly enough.  Dying at that age is a disaster, most particularly for those around those who depart, but dying just before retirement age seems to have cheated somebody out of something they were working for.

On being cheated, I'll also note the postponed dream or goal.

My mother had a friend who was a banker.  I didn't know him well, but my mother, who had no real interest in agriculture at all, always referred to him as a "rancher".  He wasn't.  He was a banker.

Now, there's nothing wrong with being a banker.  But his story was that he'd grown up on a farm or ranch as a young man, and then worked his entire career as a banker.  He'd never lost the interest in agriculture and it was pretty clear that's what he really wanted to be.  Around retirement age, but prior to his retiring, he bought a small acreage.  I'd not regard it as a farm, but it was in a farming belt, and he put up hay there.

Or, rather, he tried to.  By that time, in his late 60s, after a lifetime of indoor work, he couldn't hack it physically.  And his wife of many years, additionally, was in extremely poor physical health and had a serious allergy problem. 

He ended up selling.  

He's now passed away, but I wonder how a person reacts to that?  You live for years hoping for one thing and then the toll of years won't let you do it.  Is your conclusion that you should have done it in the first place?

Some people, I'd note, keep on keeping on as others require them to.  I knew a physician at one time who worked right up until his death.  I don't know how old he was at that time, but he was at least in his 60s.  He was old enough to retire, and his not retiring was a topic of conversation.  It turned out that he didn't, as he supported a large number of extended relatives with his income.  He wanted to, but he his loyalty to his extended family kept him at his office.

Admirable?  In some sense, to be sure.

And tragic also.

Which I guess takes us back to the first item here.  Surely, occupying a worthwhile career that you have sought to enter and do, isn't a tragedy, even though staying too long may be.  But what about working for years with a lingering "lost vocation" in the background? Surely, that is tragic.  The American belief that "I'll be able to do that some day" is a crock, and realistically, people who live in that world should realize that age, health, economics and circumstances are in fact more likely than not to terminate some of those dreams. Some others not.  A guy who dreamed of being a cowboy, for example, can, if he has the talent and skills, write about that.  Some hobbies that are close to vocations, such as hunting and fishing, can usually be carried on well into advance years.

But we don't get any time back at all.  Time can't be banked.  Money acquired in hopes of a dream retirement can just as easily be lost to the worker by death.

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

Ah well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes:

And, in the hereafter, angles may
Roll the stone from its grave away.