In Brief— The author’s experiences in the warehouse we call home. Sometimes there are surprises from the gray-haired residents. And then, there are other more serious matters.
Everybody Dies One Day—
It seems a trivial thing to fight over, but that’s what happened recently. “I’m going to kill that S.O.B.,” preceded the fisticuffs between the two old men. The personnel had to separate the two. So what was the source of their ire? A bowl of potato chips and candy! I said it was trivial. The good news here is that hope remains: testosterone still flows in wrinkled male bodies.
As I write this on Friday the 13th, several thoughts strike me: 1) In my last posting I mentioned that a new man with Parkinson’s joined our little group; 2) There was briefly another vacant room when one of our number reached her destination. It has now been filled by an old woman who sleeps a lot but waves to me when she’s awake; 3) This being Friday the 13th says “Superstition” may be a good topic for a future blog piece. Of course you won’t read this until April, and there won’t be another Friday the 13th until October.
By the way, that fantasy I mentioned in my previous Chronicle from the Old Folks’ Home has been written and will go public for a week starting on March 5. Remember, although it may ring some bells, it’s a fantasy.
Since I have little to do but think any more—and assuming the personnel who care for us survive the assorted ills that afflict humanity—it occurred to me that they will someday wind up in this or another warehouse for old folks and that they will eventually shuffle off the mortal coil. As if that fact isn’t sobering enough, the people who visit us will also get off the train at their own destinations. In fact, everything living has an expiration date. Indeed, not just plants and animals, but the planet itself… the solar system…the universe.
Recently, prompted by a book I read, I wrote a blog piece on immortality asking readers if they would want to live forever. One of the immortal characters in the book looked with envy at a dead man. Though impossible, it’s a tempting fantasy to think of living forever, but think about the Trump presidency and ask yourself if post-Trump America will be a democracy or an autocracy. Would you want to live in a dictatorship? Or, what if you are imprisoned and tortured? Both negative and positive, the possibilities for America and the world are too numerous to contemplate.
I wonder when the train we’re on will stop at my destination. For several generations on my mother’s side of the family, the longevity is extraordinary. To live as long as they lived is a nightmare, a curse, for me. On the other hand, my father’s side of the family is short-lived. The longest they have lived is into their seventies. I’ve already exceeded that. Like that immortal man just described, I look with envy on my father’s side of the family. I hope and I wonder.
Good friends tell me my writing can be an inspiration for others. Beyond the facts that I harbor suspicions my friends are being kind in stroking my ego and that I’m nowhere near as skilled a writer as I want to be, this little blog will stop one day and the world will go on its merry way as if I’d never existed. Anyway, I hope and I wonder.
The Weekly Sampler—
As a reminder, go to the Archives on the right side of the page and click on the month and year of that week’s featured Sampler. If you wish, go to the January 15 blog for more thorough instructions.
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Go to the Archives on the right side. Click on August 2014