Kathy: Thank you for this writing prompt, and I want to express my sympathies in the passing of your friends and in the fading self of your former teacher.
What are my thoughts on the knowledge of my own mortality? My Lord, how I could go on-there are so many aspects to consider: loved ones left behind, my will and other affairs, my possessions being 3600 km away from my nearest family members, where I'd like my remains to be interred, etc.
I'll try to stick to one or two considerations.
I have a collection of guitars, pedals, and amps; but no one in my family is as into playing as I am (except for a bluegrass-playing cousin, but he has an array of Martins, so he doesn't count!), though I have one niece who plays guitar.
I have a few guitars promised to friends of mine: a Gibson ES-335 to my guitar teacher friend in Massachusetts, my Gibson ES-175 to my jazz singing and composing friend in San Diego, and my Gibson Songbird acoustic to my niece in Ontario.
The other instruments might just go to the Sarah McLachlan School of Music or some such place. My pedals? Who knows!
I have bookcases-and boxes-full of books. Again, I am stuck with uncertainty as to who will want these. The same goes for my records and CDs, given that so many people stream their music these days.
The conclusion I came to of wondering what will happen to all my "stuff" is not to worry about it (or fret over it, when it comes to my guitars). It doesn't matter. Hell-my stuff could just as well be put out on the street, free for the taking, as I won't be around with any objections anyhow. As people like to say, "It's just stuff".
And that's true enough. It's just stuff, but it makes up tangible connections to some of the things about this life that I love: music, reading, writing, art and the flow that carries all these creations. At some point, when it's my turn to disembark from this riverlike journey, everything else must flow on. To where? To whom? It will no longer matter.
I have written a lot about "stuff", and I suppose the best thing to do is to ask my friends and family what they would like me to leave them, once I pass on. And the rest can go to auction.
Another consideration of my eventual death is when "the man comes around", to use Johnny Cash's lyric in reference to when that time will be.
I have Crohn's Disease, which is a chronic inflammatory disease of the intestinal tract, an affliction that has necessitated 2 surgeries, the first one an emergency and the second one scheduled. Surgery in itself is a stark reminder of mortality, and, in learning about my condition, I discovered that Crohn's sufferers may not live as long as the average person, so I have had to resign myself to that fact.
Accepting that fact doesn't mean I have given up-on the contrary, I have modified my diet, cut back on alcohol, and exercise regularly, in order to help myself live and enjoy my life as long as possible.
And that will serve to help me keep my stuff as long as possible!
On Saturday evening, I watched the Tragically Hip documentary "No Dress Rehearsal", a poignant story about "Canada's Band". For those who are not familiar with "The Hip", they were hugely popular in Canada, and when lead singer Gord Downie was told he had terminal brain cancer, he did an amazing thing: he decided to go on a final tour across Canada with The Hip.
The man's tumour caused him to lose his memory, so he used a teleprompter to sing the Hip's songs during each concert. The tour was a success (I got to see them in Vancouver), and audiences were emotional, knowing we'd never see The Tragically Hip in concert ever again.
Their final concert, in their hometown of Kingston, Ontario, was televised and drew in 8 million viewers.
And when Gord passed away, our Prime Minister at the time, Justin Trudeau told the nation about it from a live news feed on Parliament Hill, and the Canadian flag was flown at half-mast from the Peace Tower.
Now, that's a life well-lived.
I suppose I wrote that last paragraph because it is a diametrical contrast to my first thoughts about death: possessions as opposed to people. What you have versus who you have. And who has you.
It's not "stuff", but the people who give our life meaning and make our existence fulfilling that we remember the most.
I am moving (yet again) and I invite you -- anyone really, with the strength left to swing -- to hit me on the nose with a rolled up newspaper if I EVER decide to move again after this time. The packed boxes mock me, the decisions (what is this? Do I need it? Yes I need it. But what is it?) and the cost is a tide threatening to pull me under. With all of this, my daily Starbucks (extra oat milk please) is keeping me going and I felt a stab of sorrow at the loss of your Ned. All hail the baristas we love and who fuel us, in more ways than one. There's a lot to love in your S musings and thanks for posting. I needed a quality read as I sat down for a few minutes, while the boxes continued to mock me.
Yes! this is so true ..."and replaced by an admiration and appreciation of their health and aging process." This is the new billionaire status marker. Dare I say it... the new "Rock Star" status?
Thanks for another great one. I was just thinking about you the other day. Reading the NYT profile of Carol Kaye, about 1/3rd of the way in I wondered if you’d seen the piece. Then you SHOWED UP IN IT! That was fun. Carol sounds like a real pistol. Speaking of pistols—I first met Lyova in the early 90s when I worked at Esther’s Follies. I admire her for many reasons—to list just two: her attic bathtub and the way she told the Hyde Park Baptist Church to go to hell, she wasn’t selling her house.
Well worth watching, I like this guy, Sheldon Solomon a lot. He also made me aware of Ernest Becker and his book, The Denial of Death, which won a Pulitzer Prize.
“Humans manage existential terror by embracing cultural worldviews that afford a sense of meaning and value, and hope of immortality. Efforts to transcend death underlie our most noble achievements; however, they also foster our most ignominious proclivities, including: disdain for and hostility toward people with different beliefs; indifference to, or contempt for, the natural environment; and, the mindless pursuit of money and stuff—which, if unchecked, may render we humans the first life-form to prune their own branch from The Tree of Life. Prospects for the future of our species will be considered in light of these ideas. “ Sheldon Solomon is Professor of Psychology at Skidmore College. His studies of the effects of the uniquely human awareness of death on behavior have been supported by the National Science Foundation and Ernest Becker Foundation, and were featured in the award winning documentary film Flight from Death: The Quest for Immortality.
Wow. Way to put things in perspective, Kathy. Hadn’t really thought about how I’ll go; but since I’ve turned 60, I think of death and decline more than ever. It’s just the way things go at our age, a result of seeing more of it around you, as well as the stinging notion it’s on the horizon sooner than it ever was. PS thank you for reintroducing “sexagenarian” to our timelines: this sexagenarian appreciates it!
Lovely read, as usual. And I can relate to the storage -- one of my most satisfying days was when I finally finished clearing ours out and returned the keys!
As for mortality, that has really hit me in the face since my husband died. As long as he was there, and we were an us, it was easy to proceed as if we'd be this way forever. But he died ... and I'm next. Of course I have no idea if it will be in twenty years or within the next one -- I have long-lived relatives and am healthy as far as I can tell -- but it's there. Enough so that I sometimes feel guilty about getting the kittens -- now 5 months old -- knowing they might well outlive me -- although I have taken steps to ensure that they will be well taken care of, if I'm not around. But they are truly the only really good thing that's happened to me in the last couple of years -- and it's very hard to be morose with small cats scampering around, playing their little brains out and snuggling up for purrs. Guess that's the only antidote to death or concern over it -- life, bounding, abundant life.
Has anyone written a song called "Sexagenarian"? If not, there's your next writing assignment. All us sexagenarians would embrace it. And of course, make it slinky & sexy, as if Prince made it to this decade too. (This year I've already exhausted my winking use of The Beatles' "When I'm Sixty-Four".)
And my Mom, newly 97-and-a-half, is in her first year of a nursing/rehab home, no longer in her own little home that I now reside in, as I took care of her since Covid came (we both never got it) and coincidentally she just started needing more assistance with routine daily life, so I moved in as my theater-work had stopped in early 2020 as everyone's job did. I just started working at a Greenport, Long Island (nearly the end of the north fork) old movie theater that has repurposed to being an arts center too. The pleasant 45 minute commute for me is past farms & wineries!
But I see Mom 3x a week for about 4 hours each time, and her word-salad is the hardest thing to deal with, after her 3 small T.I.A.s she had in late November. (And almost no recurrence since.)
She might not remember exactly who Robert Redford was, though my Dad had her shake his hand at the ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN premiere in Times Square (and I shook his hand decades later to thank him for the congratulatory letter that all 20-year-volunteers at the Sundance Film Festival)....but she reacts warmly to his image, and any family pictures I show her. Her brain still chugs along...just at a more lower strength. Everyone ages differently, and she was pretty active til her early 90s, but then hello Covid, and thankfully we never had to take her car keys away....she merely let me take care of her as everyone disconnected for a few months, until the caregiving for daily routines increased on my part.
And oh....to have an empty storage container again. I started to chip away at items I put in there when I moved out of Kew Gardens, Queens, NYC, and I'm pleasantly going through.....old cassettes! A drop in the bucket of what I have in there....but any progress is good. I'll have the mental image of you in yours as a goal.
SO much goodness in this entry and, yet, what made me smile the most is the picture of you in the empty storage unit. I’d never been a “storage person” until the last few years: a move-out remodel, the clear-out of my mom’s home, the sale of our primary home & lake home, etc. All necessitated temporary storage. And each of those temporaries turned into longer-terms than ever thought. The absolute JOY of saying a final goodbye to a storage unit is hard to describe. But it is JOY. This week, I said goodbye to Public Storage unit A2109 as we packed it all up for the move to the Austin area. A newly purchased home, way larger than what we need will, among other niceties, ensure that we’ll likely never have the need for a storage unit again. As an aside, I think college professors should really stress to business students, “you want to build wealth? OWN STORAGE FACILITIES!”
When I got to the portion of your entry about asking AI to show you a picture of a rising and setting sun, I thought, “I should ask Perplexity to write a haiku for Kathy about a woman feeling JOY about clearing out a storage unit.”
Here’s what I got:
Boxes once heavy, gone—
light pours through forgotten space,
feeling joy, she laughs.
Take care, KV! As always, your writing is thought provoking. ❤️
I’m also in my 60s — a decade I wasn’t sure I would experience after undergoing quintuple bypasses in 2016. Instead of counting down to my demise I count my blessings of each new day. I saw the birth of four more grandchildren, I reconnected with old friends, and i discovered that my youthful celebrity crush — the bassist for the Go-Go’s — was a gifted writer and compassionate humanitarian. Enjoy that that you’re still rocking, that you found an added career as a writer and that you did a heck of a job rearing a tremendous daughter. Oh, yeah, you’re still this grandpa’s celebrity crush. Enjoy your day.
Hi 👋 Kathy, awesome read. My husband and I just actually finished moving to a new place after 15 yrs there. Moving is no joke especially at this point. During the move, my husband ended up being in the hospital so it was mostly me moving. After finally settling in, I can relax again. I've been thinking a lot about most of what you are feeling. Especially with My Mom. But I wake up everyday knowing that I am very happy to be in the present. Still working, still having everyday problems to figure out on the daily. still reading your writings is one of my highlights of my life. Thank You for sharing your thoughts. ❤️ Can't wait for the next read. Love, Renel.
I have crippling anxiety and PTSD thinking about mortality~ especially my parents (well and everything going on over here)~ and trying to grieve parts of life I’ve lost- joints, the sun, singing, etc etc. (I *completely* broke the day before the Go-Go’s in Vegas. I’m still not the same, but I hope to be!)
sooooo… I don’t know how to even approach a rational convo about the topic.
I don’t have oodles of $$, but I can PM and produce your doc~ well, maybe just the sizzle reel now that I have one under my belt. 😂 It was with no budget, a tiny team, and a *wild* deadline, too. I had so much fun & even did part of the music. I even snuck The Ramones in 🖤
Congratulations on the empty storage locker. Great shot. I was looking to see if you had thrown a tam in the air (you're gonna make [everything go away] after all).
Knowing the end is near, and how one handles it would, for me at least, (I think) depend on what is coming as you get closer to the day with regard to the body and mind. Will your body stop working (degenerative diseases), will you lose the ability to communicate, will you ultimately lose your cognitive function (dementia), and so on. Or will you be lucid and slowly wind down?
My Mom fought to the very end (cancer) and would not accept the inevitable. My Grandmother (cancer) was very calm and just wanted to be comfortable and reunite with her husband of 50+ years who had died a few years before.
But, speculation isn't facing the real thing, which hopefully is a ways away.
As always I enjoyed this dispatch. I also learned something new in the word “sexagenarians”, like another reader also thought... I thought it had to do with sex too. LOL I’m 3 years into being a sexagenarian.
I’m sorry to hear about the passing of your SB friends. Thanks for sharing their pictures, stories and your Greenbriar friends too. They all sound lovely.
I try to not think about the end of life too much. I just know that my grandparents who I was very close to mostly made it into their Low-Mid 80’s fairly healthy and sound-minded over those years. No one made it into their 90’s like your friend Lyova. My parents are all still living but are also still under 80. I don’t want to think about it when something happens. My mom would like to make it to see her first great grand child born (April 2026). Finally I will be a grandma! Something I’ve been hoping for, for a very long time! :) Circle of Life.
I always look forward to reading your thoughts, insights, and commentary on life. I appreciate the openness and ease with which you write.
I have lived my life from these words I read in college - " Approach death as you approach life". I can only hope to give more than I take. In these somewhat turbulent times, the "give" is more important than ever.
Kathy: Thank you for this writing prompt, and I want to express my sympathies in the passing of your friends and in the fading self of your former teacher.
What are my thoughts on the knowledge of my own mortality? My Lord, how I could go on-there are so many aspects to consider: loved ones left behind, my will and other affairs, my possessions being 3600 km away from my nearest family members, where I'd like my remains to be interred, etc.
I'll try to stick to one or two considerations.
I have a collection of guitars, pedals, and amps; but no one in my family is as into playing as I am (except for a bluegrass-playing cousin, but he has an array of Martins, so he doesn't count!), though I have one niece who plays guitar.
I have a few guitars promised to friends of mine: a Gibson ES-335 to my guitar teacher friend in Massachusetts, my Gibson ES-175 to my jazz singing and composing friend in San Diego, and my Gibson Songbird acoustic to my niece in Ontario.
The other instruments might just go to the Sarah McLachlan School of Music or some such place. My pedals? Who knows!
I have bookcases-and boxes-full of books. Again, I am stuck with uncertainty as to who will want these. The same goes for my records and CDs, given that so many people stream their music these days.
The conclusion I came to of wondering what will happen to all my "stuff" is not to worry about it (or fret over it, when it comes to my guitars). It doesn't matter. Hell-my stuff could just as well be put out on the street, free for the taking, as I won't be around with any objections anyhow. As people like to say, "It's just stuff".
And that's true enough. It's just stuff, but it makes up tangible connections to some of the things about this life that I love: music, reading, writing, art and the flow that carries all these creations. At some point, when it's my turn to disembark from this riverlike journey, everything else must flow on. To where? To whom? It will no longer matter.
I have written a lot about "stuff", and I suppose the best thing to do is to ask my friends and family what they would like me to leave them, once I pass on. And the rest can go to auction.
Another consideration of my eventual death is when "the man comes around", to use Johnny Cash's lyric in reference to when that time will be.
I have Crohn's Disease, which is a chronic inflammatory disease of the intestinal tract, an affliction that has necessitated 2 surgeries, the first one an emergency and the second one scheduled. Surgery in itself is a stark reminder of mortality, and, in learning about my condition, I discovered that Crohn's sufferers may not live as long as the average person, so I have had to resign myself to that fact.
Accepting that fact doesn't mean I have given up-on the contrary, I have modified my diet, cut back on alcohol, and exercise regularly, in order to help myself live and enjoy my life as long as possible.
And that will serve to help me keep my stuff as long as possible!
On Saturday evening, I watched the Tragically Hip documentary "No Dress Rehearsal", a poignant story about "Canada's Band". For those who are not familiar with "The Hip", they were hugely popular in Canada, and when lead singer Gord Downie was told he had terminal brain cancer, he did an amazing thing: he decided to go on a final tour across Canada with The Hip.
The man's tumour caused him to lose his memory, so he used a teleprompter to sing the Hip's songs during each concert. The tour was a success (I got to see them in Vancouver), and audiences were emotional, knowing we'd never see The Tragically Hip in concert ever again.
Their final concert, in their hometown of Kingston, Ontario, was televised and drew in 8 million viewers.
And when Gord passed away, our Prime Minister at the time, Justin Trudeau told the nation about it from a live news feed on Parliament Hill, and the Canadian flag was flown at half-mast from the Peace Tower.
Now, that's a life well-lived.
I suppose I wrote that last paragraph because it is a diametrical contrast to my first thoughts about death: possessions as opposed to people. What you have versus who you have. And who has you.
It's not "stuff", but the people who give our life meaning and make our existence fulfilling that we remember the most.
I am moving (yet again) and I invite you -- anyone really, with the strength left to swing -- to hit me on the nose with a rolled up newspaper if I EVER decide to move again after this time. The packed boxes mock me, the decisions (what is this? Do I need it? Yes I need it. But what is it?) and the cost is a tide threatening to pull me under. With all of this, my daily Starbucks (extra oat milk please) is keeping me going and I felt a stab of sorrow at the loss of your Ned. All hail the baristas we love and who fuel us, in more ways than one. There's a lot to love in your S musings and thanks for posting. I needed a quality read as I sat down for a few minutes, while the boxes continued to mock me.
Yes! this is so true ..."and replaced by an admiration and appreciation of their health and aging process." This is the new billionaire status marker. Dare I say it... the new "Rock Star" status?
Thanks for another great one. I was just thinking about you the other day. Reading the NYT profile of Carol Kaye, about 1/3rd of the way in I wondered if you’d seen the piece. Then you SHOWED UP IN IT! That was fun. Carol sounds like a real pistol. Speaking of pistols—I first met Lyova in the early 90s when I worked at Esther’s Follies. I admire her for many reasons—to list just two: her attic bathtub and the way she told the Hyde Park Baptist Church to go to hell, she wasn’t selling her house.
Nice essay Kathy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wuJhD5TkX-0
Well worth watching, I like this guy, Sheldon Solomon a lot. He also made me aware of Ernest Becker and his book, The Denial of Death, which won a Pulitzer Prize.
“Humans manage existential terror by embracing cultural worldviews that afford a sense of meaning and value, and hope of immortality. Efforts to transcend death underlie our most noble achievements; however, they also foster our most ignominious proclivities, including: disdain for and hostility toward people with different beliefs; indifference to, or contempt for, the natural environment; and, the mindless pursuit of money and stuff—which, if unchecked, may render we humans the first life-form to prune their own branch from The Tree of Life. Prospects for the future of our species will be considered in light of these ideas. “ Sheldon Solomon is Professor of Psychology at Skidmore College. His studies of the effects of the uniquely human awareness of death on behavior have been supported by the National Science Foundation and Ernest Becker Foundation, and were featured in the award winning documentary film Flight from Death: The Quest for Immortality.
thanks Bruce! I will def watch
Wow. Way to put things in perspective, Kathy. Hadn’t really thought about how I’ll go; but since I’ve turned 60, I think of death and decline more than ever. It’s just the way things go at our age, a result of seeing more of it around you, as well as the stinging notion it’s on the horizon sooner than it ever was. PS thank you for reintroducing “sexagenarian” to our timelines: this sexagenarian appreciates it!
Lovely read, as usual. And I can relate to the storage -- one of my most satisfying days was when I finally finished clearing ours out and returned the keys!
As for mortality, that has really hit me in the face since my husband died. As long as he was there, and we were an us, it was easy to proceed as if we'd be this way forever. But he died ... and I'm next. Of course I have no idea if it will be in twenty years or within the next one -- I have long-lived relatives and am healthy as far as I can tell -- but it's there. Enough so that I sometimes feel guilty about getting the kittens -- now 5 months old -- knowing they might well outlive me -- although I have taken steps to ensure that they will be well taken care of, if I'm not around. But they are truly the only really good thing that's happened to me in the last couple of years -- and it's very hard to be morose with small cats scampering around, playing their little brains out and snuggling up for purrs. Guess that's the only antidote to death or concern over it -- life, bounding, abundant life.
yes, kittens all the way!! thank you Sharon.
Has anyone written a song called "Sexagenarian"? If not, there's your next writing assignment. All us sexagenarians would embrace it. And of course, make it slinky & sexy, as if Prince made it to this decade too. (This year I've already exhausted my winking use of The Beatles' "When I'm Sixty-Four".)
And my Mom, newly 97-and-a-half, is in her first year of a nursing/rehab home, no longer in her own little home that I now reside in, as I took care of her since Covid came (we both never got it) and coincidentally she just started needing more assistance with routine daily life, so I moved in as my theater-work had stopped in early 2020 as everyone's job did. I just started working at a Greenport, Long Island (nearly the end of the north fork) old movie theater that has repurposed to being an arts center too. The pleasant 45 minute commute for me is past farms & wineries!
But I see Mom 3x a week for about 4 hours each time, and her word-salad is the hardest thing to deal with, after her 3 small T.I.A.s she had in late November. (And almost no recurrence since.)
She might not remember exactly who Robert Redford was, though my Dad had her shake his hand at the ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN premiere in Times Square (and I shook his hand decades later to thank him for the congratulatory letter that all 20-year-volunteers at the Sundance Film Festival)....but she reacts warmly to his image, and any family pictures I show her. Her brain still chugs along...just at a more lower strength. Everyone ages differently, and she was pretty active til her early 90s, but then hello Covid, and thankfully we never had to take her car keys away....she merely let me take care of her as everyone disconnected for a few months, until the caregiving for daily routines increased on my part.
And oh....to have an empty storage container again. I started to chip away at items I put in there when I moved out of Kew Gardens, Queens, NYC, and I'm pleasantly going through.....old cassettes! A drop in the bucket of what I have in there....but any progress is good. I'll have the mental image of you in yours as a goal.
SO much goodness in this entry and, yet, what made me smile the most is the picture of you in the empty storage unit. I’d never been a “storage person” until the last few years: a move-out remodel, the clear-out of my mom’s home, the sale of our primary home & lake home, etc. All necessitated temporary storage. And each of those temporaries turned into longer-terms than ever thought. The absolute JOY of saying a final goodbye to a storage unit is hard to describe. But it is JOY. This week, I said goodbye to Public Storage unit A2109 as we packed it all up for the move to the Austin area. A newly purchased home, way larger than what we need will, among other niceties, ensure that we’ll likely never have the need for a storage unit again. As an aside, I think college professors should really stress to business students, “you want to build wealth? OWN STORAGE FACILITIES!”
When I got to the portion of your entry about asking AI to show you a picture of a rising and setting sun, I thought, “I should ask Perplexity to write a haiku for Kathy about a woman feeling JOY about clearing out a storage unit.”
Here’s what I got:
Boxes once heavy, gone—
light pours through forgotten space,
feeling joy, she laughs.
Take care, KV! As always, your writing is thought provoking. ❤️
I’m also in my 60s — a decade I wasn’t sure I would experience after undergoing quintuple bypasses in 2016. Instead of counting down to my demise I count my blessings of each new day. I saw the birth of four more grandchildren, I reconnected with old friends, and i discovered that my youthful celebrity crush — the bassist for the Go-Go’s — was a gifted writer and compassionate humanitarian. Enjoy that that you’re still rocking, that you found an added career as a writer and that you did a heck of a job rearing a tremendous daughter. Oh, yeah, you’re still this grandpa’s celebrity crush. Enjoy your day.
Hi 👋 Kathy, awesome read. My husband and I just actually finished moving to a new place after 15 yrs there. Moving is no joke especially at this point. During the move, my husband ended up being in the hospital so it was mostly me moving. After finally settling in, I can relax again. I've been thinking a lot about most of what you are feeling. Especially with My Mom. But I wake up everyday knowing that I am very happy to be in the present. Still working, still having everyday problems to figure out on the daily. still reading your writings is one of my highlights of my life. Thank You for sharing your thoughts. ❤️ Can't wait for the next read. Love, Renel.
I have crippling anxiety and PTSD thinking about mortality~ especially my parents (well and everything going on over here)~ and trying to grieve parts of life I’ve lost- joints, the sun, singing, etc etc. (I *completely* broke the day before the Go-Go’s in Vegas. I’m still not the same, but I hope to be!)
sooooo… I don’t know how to even approach a rational convo about the topic.
I don’t have oodles of $$, but I can PM and produce your doc~ well, maybe just the sizzle reel now that I have one under my belt. 😂 It was with no budget, a tiny team, and a *wild* deadline, too. I had so much fun & even did part of the music. I even snuck The Ramones in 🖤
Headed to see Downton Abbey tomorrow! xo
Congratulations on the empty storage locker. Great shot. I was looking to see if you had thrown a tam in the air (you're gonna make [everything go away] after all).
Knowing the end is near, and how one handles it would, for me at least, (I think) depend on what is coming as you get closer to the day with regard to the body and mind. Will your body stop working (degenerative diseases), will you lose the ability to communicate, will you ultimately lose your cognitive function (dementia), and so on. Or will you be lucid and slowly wind down?
My Mom fought to the very end (cancer) and would not accept the inevitable. My Grandmother (cancer) was very calm and just wanted to be comfortable and reunite with her husband of 50+ years who had died a few years before.
But, speculation isn't facing the real thing, which hopefully is a ways away.
Great writing as always,
rick (a fellow sexagenarian)
As always I enjoyed this dispatch. I also learned something new in the word “sexagenarians”, like another reader also thought... I thought it had to do with sex too. LOL I’m 3 years into being a sexagenarian.
I’m sorry to hear about the passing of your SB friends. Thanks for sharing their pictures, stories and your Greenbriar friends too. They all sound lovely.
I try to not think about the end of life too much. I just know that my grandparents who I was very close to mostly made it into their Low-Mid 80’s fairly healthy and sound-minded over those years. No one made it into their 90’s like your friend Lyova. My parents are all still living but are also still under 80. I don’t want to think about it when something happens. My mom would like to make it to see her first great grand child born (April 2026). Finally I will be a grandma! Something I’ve been hoping for, for a very long time! :) Circle of Life.
I always look forward to reading your thoughts, insights, and commentary on life. I appreciate the openness and ease with which you write.
I have lived my life from these words I read in college - " Approach death as you approach life". I can only hope to give more than I take. In these somewhat turbulent times, the "give" is more important than ever.
Thanks and keep writing!
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