I was born at a very young age, so I don’t remember much, but I can tell you I have lived a lot longer than I thought I would.
In what they now call my “tween” years, I thought 40 would be ancient; end of the world, hang it up, can’t go on. I could not fathom living that long, yet here I am 20 + 1 year beyond that and still kicking, probably in better shape than ever before (it’s all that walking, I reckon … I’m already about 150 miles above where I was last year at this time; yes, I keep records). Although there are days I feel my age, on a number of different levels. I will spare you the details, lest it sound like a round table full of old men at Denny’s in time for the early-bird special.
I am in my 7th decade (! … I mean really, WTF!!! … why did I put it that way?) able to travel and explore every f-ing bookstore I can find as I go city to city. This year it will be Seattle, Portland, New York City, London, and Leeds by the end of the year (I’ve already been to Los Angeles and San Francisco, but they’re both in-state). I’m able to do a lot of things I never dreamed of, and for that, it is, at times, a wonderful life, even if it’s filled with commas.
Thank you all for sharing it with me, on at least some small level.
The photo above: Me at about 4 years old all dressed up in my summer finest in my paternal grandfather’s back yard (that’s him looming in the background). And yes, they’re Keds … red ones if memory serves me right.