Ken Dollinger: Approaching aging with an adventurous attitude

Submitted photo##The author sailing a two-masted windjammer in the Virgin Islands.

Submitted photo##Rafting on the Rogue River with wife Linda.

By KEN DOLLINGER

As I enter my eighth decade circling the sun, now the oldest male in my family going back three generations, I find myself being nagged by an increasing amount of introspection.

I guess it’s only natural to be looking into the past. Certainly, in the so-called sunset years, looking backward has more appeal than looking forward — and is likely to prove more enjoyable.

When I just started high school at 14, my parents and teachers — indeed all adults in my life — emphasized that I should know where I was going. So bending to pressure, I started to plan my future.

The planning went well. The future? Not so much.

By the time 15 years had passed, with Navy service, a college degree, a career, a loving wife, two young children and a mortgaged middle-class home, I discovered life had happened while I was busy making plans.

Planning for the unknown future seemed a losing proposition. So I switched from “plans” to “expectations.” While not always fruitful, expectations generally seemed to work out better.

But by the time 20 years more had passed, I found myself with kids gone, a very happy marriage and a looming retirement. Life had been good, but the future seemed murky.

Expectations no longer seemed appropriate — or beneficial. I decided another life shift was in order.

Recent life occurrences seemed to highlight a new message: Could-do only matters if it’s also want-to-do and want-to-do only matters if it’s actually do-it.

I decided I would age in two ways, years and attitude.

There was nothing I could do about years, but I could control my attitude. So I adopted a fairly robust attitude of “could-do/want-to-do/can-do/do-it!”

Linda and I quit our jobs and moved to a new town, where I launched a new business and she a new career. Then we purchased 40 acres of pine and aspen with a primitive and derelict log cabin on it — 300 miles away in south-central Oregon — and began learning forestry stewardship.

I hunted moose in Canada’s British Columbia; whitewater rafted five Oregon rivers, two of them several times; and hunted 10 days on horseback for deer and elk in the Idaho wilderness.

Moving into retirement, I lined up two part-time, on-call jobs to keep me busy and help fund my do-it.

Linda and I bought a large trailer so we could travel and rockhound across three states. We toured Ireland for two weeks, during which I played hurling, Ireland’s version of field hockey, with people twice my size and half my age.

I learned to surf in Hawaii and ski bike at Hoodoo. I helped sail a wooden, two-masted windjammer through the British and American Virgin Islands, crashed a moped on one of those islands and joined Linda in repeating our vows to mark our 50th anniversary.

I bought a new boat, fully outfitted, to take friends, veterans and children fishing in the bays, rivers and lakes of the Northwest. I took sailing lessons and joined a sailing club.

Linda and I spent a month sightseeing, hiking and learning to rappel off cliffs across Utah and Arizona. We also stayed in the jungle while touring Mayan cities in Belize and Guatemala.

Along the way, I underwent two rotator cuff surgeries, shattered a collarbone, had two knees replaced, ruptured a lower back disc and endured multiple hand surgeries.

Apparently, I failed to understand that “do-it” needs to take into account size (small), athleticism (limited), condition (so-so) and age (uh, advancing).

Yet, along with the body damage, I have earned a wealth of happy experiences, new skills and great memories, extending far beyond what it has cost me in scar tissue. While I might be a bit more careful these days, I would not change a moment of the past 30 years — or the previous 50.

All in all, it has been worth it. At least, to this point.

Now in my 80th year, I have laid plans to spend a week sailing a catamaran off the west coast of Mexico in October — hopefully without adding to the rods, screws, plates, pins and other metal or synthetic fixtures I’ve already collected!

The real question comes down to what comes next … what follows “planning,” “expectations” and “doing-it” in the journey through life?

Assuming I don’t come to my off-ramp anytime soon, this is a question I will be pondering for some time.

About the writer: Ken Dollinger set out to become a journalist, getting his start as a reporter and photographer at a daily in his native Texas. He was working in Beaverton in 1990 when he decided to relocate to McMinnville and open a bookstore with his wife, Linda. Now retired, he enjoys fishing, hunting, traveling and seeking out new adventures. He also has a long legacy of active community involvement.