Saturday 23rd December, 2006

 
Lisa Allen-Agostini
 
 
 
 
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It used to be a natural thing that you join a company when you young and you stay until you dead or you retire. But for my generation, it ent go have nothing like a long service awards. Nobody not staying in one work so long again.

When Jesus was my age, he did done get the call from God to change the world. If I was Jesus, all now so I preaching sermon on the mount, sharing out loaves and fishes, changing water into wine and all kind of thing. I would of be nearly done doing my life work, ready to dead for what I believe.

Boy, if I tell you me ent no Jesus.

At 33, I hear the call but answering so, so hard. I start some work but hardly any finish, and if I was to stand up on a mountain and try to preach, people would have steups and walk off.

Don’t talk for the loaves and fishes; I does make a nice bread but even I don’t like how my fish does come out. And I could wine good, but I sure that is not the kind of wine he was talking about.

You see how these days they does say 30 is the new 20 and 40 is the new 30? Maybe at 33 I really just turning 23.

At 23, a young person must be now finish school, looking to start a career, get a nice girlfriend or boyfriend and settle down. In a couple years, they would be looking for house and thing, the real estate section in the papers burning their eye every day because the prices too high and who in their mid-20s could afford to pay $8,000 a month in mortgage?

I looking around at my life and how my friends living. We in a different, different world from the one my parents used to live in. We eating different, living different, wanting different things and getting them a different way. I must be one of the only people my age I know who working for the same company for more than five years. Everybody else either fire their work to go freelance, or they just jumping from one job to the next, chasing more money, better conditions, better prospects.

It used to be a natural thing that you join a company when you young and you stay until you dead or you retire. But for my generation, it ent go have nothing like a long service awards. Nobody not staying in one work so long again.

That go affect companies just now, if it ent already start affecting them. If you have to keep training new people to do a work, you wasting time and money. But how to keep people working for you and not leave? That is the real million-dollar question.

But this not really suppose to be about economics and finance. This is just a stupid little column, thinking out loud about turning 33 and how short life is.

My mammy family does live long. Case in point: my grandmother, Mother, is 95. She now fighting up with pneumonia in the hospital but in general she good strong, even though this now looking like is the last innings she might bat. But for 95 she was looking well all this time. No sugar, no heart, no pressure, nothing except a little forgetting that over time get to be plenty forgetting.

I does wonder, looking at she and thinking about my mother and father, what it must be like to be old. To reach that age and all your friends gone before you, you can’t remember your own children, you living every day in pain.

I know getting old don’t have to be so, but I know much more people who get old bad than who get old good. For every one who reach 75 with all they brains intact, plus good health and enough money to enjoy it, I could think about five who lose a breast, a foot, their mind, their money. Getting old not easy, nah.

As a little girl I used to feel I would have Rioplive by the saying, “Live fast, die young and leave a beautiful corpse.” Now that I watching the hill and starting to roll down the other side, it not so simple. Live fast? With two children watching me? I can’t even go party without the Lady telling me, “Mummy, why can’t you stay home?” Die young? She and she sister still too young for me to leave them and go. And the beautiful corpse? Fat chance.

But I not exactly going gentle into that good night. I kicking up a little fuss, trying to make my mark in work, be a good mother, a good friend and a good partner. None of it easy and most of the time I just want to lie down in my bed and say to hell with all of that.

But when the mark buss, people ent go have nothing from me but memories. I might as well make some good ones so that when I dead and gone, they ent go say in my funeral, “She was a good mother. A good mother a--, that is.”

 

 

 

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