When you are young you are (at least in your own mind) immortal. Then you end up “adulting” you have responsibilities, work, bills, kids, and you end up in the middle of the sandwich of life, you’re not young, certainly not immortal, but you still have folks ahead of you moving along down the road.

Then, time continues to move along, thief that it is, and over time you are no longer in the middle of the sandwich, you somehow, rise to the forefront. I know, it’s odd to be lamenting this when the alternative to changing places in that sandwich is even more daunting, however, the time comes when reality really smacks you in the face like a well placed cast iron pan after you ask your wife “since you only have two feet, exactly how many pairs of shoes DO you need?”

It seems that every day there is another notice of someone close lost to the ether, and you (well at least I), start to dwell on the unknowable, that being how much longer the ride lasts, and more, how much of that remaining ride will be enjoyable in terms of activity and health. Each and every little tweak, stretch, step, motion that does not go unnoticed becomes cause for doubt. “Am I just tired, or is my balance not what it once was?” “Did I sleep awkwardly, or is something starting to go”, “Have my wonderful replaced hips started to actually wear out?” When will the day come that the simple tasks are no longer simple? When does “age” really begin to catch up to the point where you actually ”see” the difference? Many of the sports and music people I’ve followed are not reaching that point, where somewhere around 80 (it seems) speech, activity and motion do seem to change noticeably…that, dear readers, is less than a decade away for me (it’s around 8.6 years but who’s counting?)

On the one hand, I can still easily swim a mile (not at breakneck pace, but without any issue and without and stopping during the laps), I can’t seem to jog painlessly or effortlessly as I was able to do just a couple of years ago, and I do dwell on that setback, more than enjoy the ability to swim that distance (and I have done more than a mile when I’m in the mood).

I appreciate any and all who actually read these words, it simply allows me to wonder and worry without involving anyone else. I’ll end this with a couple of lines from a Jimmy Buffet widely overlooked song “He Went To Paris” however, this tome currently and thankfully would replace “had” with HAVE

“…,some of it’s magic, some of it’s tragic
But I had a good life all the way”