The life expectancy for American men these days is about 76. As I am about to reach my 79th birthday, I have a few thoughts on the matter.
I wondered, today, if my life ended on schedule, and I were no longer, alive, what I would have missed by now. I made a short list:
1. Another chance to take to the streets in a No Kings rally.
2. Teaching my little writing your memories class at the local community center.
3. Dental appointments where I can wonder what now?
4. The chance to see the next election. (Im optimistic)
5. The first fishing trip of another year.
6. New lakes and streams.
7. A big bash when I reach 80.
8. The Kentucky Derby
9. More significant downsizing (Sweedish death cleaning)
10. Playing blues harp with my friends in our geriatric music group.
This is a partial list, of course. I expect to add to it from time to time. All I have to do is survive. I shall do my best.
I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...

Comments