It's 2015 and I'm in my late fifties as I write this.  If I'm lucky I may have thirty years left.  If I'm somewhat unlucky I may have thirty-five.  And if I'm really unfortunate I may have forty years left, albeit I may lose my marbles.  We'll see.  It's been a short run regardless.  In 1983 I moved to Boston in my '74 Buick Regal (thanks, Bob) and set up shop in Somerville.  There's been a lot of Charles under the Mass Ave Bridge since then, and on the perpendicular a slew of Dudley Station buses and way too many smoots.  But still, it is as yesterday.  I miss that grand old city.

When I was a young boy I remember my grandma Louise telling me that "life goes by more quickly as you get older."  As a whippersnapper that sounded pretty good to me, but now I see it out there.  So don't be an idiot.  Listen to your grandparents.

I've decided to spend the rest of my life disturbing myself and others by burrowing into what it seems we avoid as we consider purpose, meaning, and ultimate things.  Those might be fears, they might be questions, generally deflected and unasked it seems to me.  Those concerns, conscious or otherwise, that are pushed off until tomorrow, with the hope or assumption that tomorrow will actually arrive, and yet not too, too soon.

And my worldview?   Certain of little.  Persuaded of much.

Are you with me?  Let's go.  And bring your bourbon.

 

--  You’ll note that I don’t have a “Comments” section in this blog, but I hope that if you are sufficiently annoyed or inspired (or simply confused) by something I’ve written you will let me know through the “Contact” link, or Subscribe to my posts and then reply via email.  Mine is a decidedly buckshot approach to encouragement, but I trust that at least on occasion a pellet will find its mark.  Thanks.

Iowa...   Ruthven...   Marv and Evie...   Boston...   Cambridge...   Cyndi...   Seattle...   Monterey

(Photos by C. Wigdahl)