One of the ways I know I’ve gotten old is when someone goes missing, I’m afraid they are in the hospital or some other catastrophe has befallen them.
I worry about the fragility of the people in my world. My family. Garry. Me. The dogs. Online. Personally. Distant and nearby. To be fair, I also worry about the fragility of our planet, the insanity of our government, the likelihood of catastrophic climate change.
Fires. Dogs. Pretty much everything, come to think about it.
Almost every day, someone Garry worked with dies. Because he worked on TV, he usually finds out when they announce it on the air. I can see him wince when they announce the name on the local news. Mostly, we don’t go to funerals. There are too many and we’d be going to funerals all the time.
I remember — probably like 40 years ago? — my mother said, “You know you are getting old when your friends start to die.” And sure enough, that’s exactly what is happening.
While I was pondering this, I realized that there’s another side to this which is (are you ready?) — we might live a really long time. Considering all the crap I’ve already gone through physically, I’m still alive and doing pretty well, all things considered. Garry is amazingly healthy with relatively minor creaks and groans … and both of us come from families that live long lives (but were not necessarily prosperous) …
We could live to 100. Or more.
Oh no! If we are going to live that long, the world better improve a lot. Soon.
Meanwhile, we are right as rain. One quick question
Why is rain right?