Deadlines

My editor emailed me this week and asked how things were going since I had committed to a February 1 deadline to complete the manuscript.  I allowed as how I might be a little later than that and suggested that February 15 might be more reasonable.  Actually, June 15 would be even more reasonable.  But never mind.  I am now working at a feverish pace to try to finish this book sometime reasonably close to that February 15 date.

But when I am not sitting at the computer, I have been thinking about deadlines.  All kinds of deadlines.  We all know about April 15.  At the end of each quarter at UCLA, I have faced a deadline to turn in grades.  There have been deadlines to turn in grant proposals and to get the early bird rate for conference registration.  So many deadlines.  They are mostly hateful things, generating a lot of stress.

I have also been reading Marguerite Yourcenar's magnificent "Memoirs of Hadrian."  The elderly Roman Emperor is reflecting on his life and writing a kind of testimonial for the young Marcus Aurelius who will succeed him.  Hadrian doesn't know the exact date of that ultimate deadline -- death -- but he knows that it is inevitable and that it may be close at hand.  As he assesses his life, he seems content with what he has accomplished.  He regrets most the untimely death by suicide of the young man who was the great love of his life. 

While Hadrian is sometimes harsh in his judgment of other old men, especially those whose minds seem to have hardened along with their arteries, he seems sanguine about his own aging.  He acknowledges the increasing physical weaknesses with some dismay, but of course, he has a host of servants to massage his aching limbs, lend an arm, make him comfortable, or even carry him if necessary.  

I haven't finished the book yet so I don't know if there are any last tasks Hadrian wants to complete before his final deadline with Death.  At 65,  I certainly don't feel that I am at Death's door.  I am aware, however, that I am closer to the end of my life than to its beginning.  I have retired from not one but two careers that were immensely rewarding to me, but I still work.  I write.  I teach.  I consult.  I think.  

I can't remember exactly when I stopped reading job announcements and fantasizing about other jobs I might tackle.  I do have a "lifetime to do" list that I compiled about ten years ago.  I've checked off some items:  attending another performance of Wagner's Ring, being promoted to full professor, and growing  a wisteria vine.  I'm looking forward to achieving one more this summer -- visiting Italy.  And just this week I thought of a professional project I would like to initiate:  a movement for children's library rights.  I'll be writing about that in the book that I just might finish by February 15.  I haven't set a deadline for the children's library rights movement though.