It’s a sobering thought but I’ve reached the point in my life where I can count time in half centuries. To wit, it was fifty years ago almost to the day that I arrived in Tunisia. I was on my way to becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer: the first six weeks of my service had been spent in intensive language and cross-cultural training in America. For the next six weeks, I would be in total language immersion in my new host country. Did I mention that was fifty years ago? Sigh.
Looking back, those fifty years have flown by. Four of them were spent in Tunisia, the first two in the Kasserine, a small town in the rugged mountains hard by the Algerian border and famous for a pivotal battle in World War II. Then there were two more years in Tunis, the country’s capital, working on the Peace Corps staff. Next came two years in Boston at grad school, a lost year in Pittsburgh working in a bank (not my “thing”), then finally on to Washington where I came into myself, first as a manager of international non-profit organizations, then as a teacher, college counselor, and coach at a boys’ school. Along the way, there were children (two), marriages (two), and eventually grandchildren (six). There have been ups and downs, highs and lows, wins and losses. In a word: life.
We never know how much time we’ll have. If you’re inclined to count day by day, who knows when the string will run out. But if, like me, you pretend the passing years somehow aren’t accumulating, then one day you wake up and look back at fifty years—half a century!—of living and loving, succeeding and failing. You’re stunned, ambushed by time in a sneak attack marked by sudden aches and pains, a frequent urge to nap, and an impending sense of doom, probably not unlike what those ancient mariners felt when they sailed out to the edges of the known world, always wondering what really lay over the sharp edge of the horizon.
Counting in decades and then by a century’s half portion makes one justifiably pensive. When you’re young, there’s not much time for reflection. Life’s busy, impulsive; you move along life’s tow path, briefly noting the mile markers along the way but not paying all that much attention to what they’re telling you. Then, all of a sudden, you realize that you’re closer to the finish line than you are to the starting point. The descent becomes more slippery with every step. Where once you were care-free, now you’re cautious. But guess what: as your pace slows and you’re forced to watch where you put your foot, you begin to see more. Details, once blurry or even unnoticed, come into sharper focus. Friendships run deeper. Moments ignored become moments appreciated, even savored. Fifty years ago, I would have scoffed at the notion, but now, even in decline, life is sweeter, more distilled, more precious.
I’m sure there will come a time when, like Dylan Thomas, I’ll rage, rage against the dying of the light, but for now, I’m content to live in twilight time. I know I won’t see another half century, but the one I have seen has been mostly kind and patient. That young kid who headed off to the Peace Corps in Tunisia fifty years ago is by and large content with the man he has become. With any luck, there’s still a little more time in this bottle.
I’ll be right back.
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives in Chestertown. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine. Two collections of his essays (“Musing Right Along” and “I’ll Be Right Back”) are available on Amazon. Jamie’s website is www.musingjamie.com
Antoinette Wilson says
Sublimely beautiful. I’ve shared this with many, who love it as much as I do. Thank you!
Busy Graham says
Thank you Jamie for sharing this wonderful piece about your experience in Tunisia, and for your thoughtful reflections on life, measured in half centuries. Such a pleasure to read–and so inspiring. My friend Lois Hamilton sent me the link. She and I discovered our Tunisia connection several years ago when it was revealed in a Star-Democrat story that our families were there at the same time, in the early to mid 1960’s. My Dad, Richard A. Graham, was the Peace Corps director in Tunisia from 1963-1965 and is responsible for having moved the PC office to the Souks area of Tunis. I hope that is where you had the pleasure of working during your 3rd and 4th years in Tunisia.
I also hope that you, Lois and I will have a chance to meet sometime soon and share our experiences of Tunisia — as soon as we are finally out from under this confounded Covid catastrophe.
Thanks also to Dave Wheelan and the Talbot Spy for publishing your piece!
P.S. Were you aware of last year’s Peace Corps Writers Retreat in Royal Oak, MD–partially supported by a grant from Bill Moyers and organized by John Coyne? I hope there will be another one in the near future and that you will attend! I would also love to organize a gathering of former Peace Corps volunteers and staff living on the Eastern Shore. I imagine you know Jody Olsen, the current Peace Corps Director who began her career as a volunteer in Tunisia, 1966-1968–the year after my family left, and just before you arrived — and who then went on to become the PC director in Togo from 1979-1981. She was hired by my Mom, Nancy Graham who, together with Dick Celeste, Peace Corps director from 1979-1981, was responsible for the exponential increase in women country directors hired during that period, and paved the way for the trend to continue. My Mom is featured in the recent “Women of Peace Corps Legacy” film, thanks to Laverne Webb, another Peace Corps alum living in St. Michaels.
Jamie Kirkpatrick says
Thank you, Busy, for your comment. Alas, when I was on the PC staff in Tunis, the office had moved out to Cité Jardins, near Place Pasteur. Pls let me know of any planned PC/T events.
Busy Graham says
Thank you Jamie for sharing this wonderful piece about your experience in Tunisia, and for your thoughtful reflections on life, measured in half centuries. Such a pleasure to read–and so inspiring. My friend Lois Hamilton sent me the link. She and I discovered our Tunisia connection several years ago when it was revealed in a Star-Democrat story that our families were there at the same time, in the early to mid 1960’s. My Dad, Richard A. Graham, was the Peace Corps director in Tunisia from 1963-1965 and is responsible for having moved the PC office to the Souks area of Tunis. I hope that is where you had the pleasure of working during your 3rd and 4th years in Tunisia.
I also hope that you, Lois and I will have a chance to meet sometime soon and share our experiences of Tunisia.