The time has been flying by. For decades now.

 

I’m older than Dad was when he passed away.

 

In two and a half years, I’ll be older than Mom was when she passed on.

 

And in less than five years, I’ll be older than DeForest Kelley, my mentor,  when he passed away.

 

(That is, if I last that long! 

There is that to consider,

which I have — and have already arranged for.)

 

How can that be? 

 

I still feel so YOUNG!!! 

 

Did Mom, Dad and De still feel young when their time came?

 

I feel conflicted when contemplating the answer to that question.

 

I’d want them to have been feeling as young as I do now, but dying while still feeling young would be tragic.

 

So I hope they felt old and ready for — maybe even eager for — life’s unknown terrestrial tomorrows to be beyond their reach.

 

After all, they’d been through numerous years’-long trials and traumas: the Great Depression, World War II, and other personal and professional crises. They didn’t know, any more than we do now, what tomorrow would bring.  And I’m already decidedly weary of thinking or fretting about what tomorrow could bring.  I’M ready for peace, serenity, maybe even oblivion, when juxtaposed to what may be coming down the pike in the next couple decades that I potentially have left.

 

Mom, Dad and De weren’t here for September 11th, or a Black man’s astonishing (and long overdue) ascendancy to the presidency, or the overturn of Roe V Wade, or January 6th, or any of the other memorable events  — too many of them memorable in a negative way — that have occurred since their passings in 1998 and 1999 to alter the reality that so many of us considered settled and secure. I’m glad that they weren’t here for most of that, although I do wish they were here to witness Barack Obama’s win and presidency. The nation and nations that their generation fought to save in the various ways that they did during WW II (Dad and De in the armed forces, Mom and Carolyn Kelley in Seattle and Long Beach shipyards) are again under imminent threat (this time, from within and without).

 

I’m glad they aren’t here to witness what the USA has become.  I think it would break their hearts. (And my mom was an Eisenhower Republican back when being one wasn’t a curse word!) Watching it happen in real time is breaking mine, and my battles haven’t been actual wars. They’ve been political campaigns, human rights and animal welfare campaigns, policy protests and voting booth visits.

 

T’is the Season…

 

So, I’m spending part of this season feeling blessed that I am still in such good physical shape that I still feel young and imperishable.  I’m not anticipating having a tag on my toe any time soon.

 

Instead, I’m anticipating having a quiet Christmas here in my wee casita with Charli and then counting the days (58 as of today!) until Lisa arrives for nine days to “do” Costa Rica with me in any way she wants.  We’ll be celebrating my upcoming 75th birthday then (instead of on March 5th, because flights to CR escalate insanely in March) and very likely my recent move to the lovely one-bedroom lower level suite in a two-story home in  San Isidro if that happens as expected during the first week of February. If I get it, more people can come visit who have mobility or stamina issues, because you won’t need to be a mountain goat to get to my home!  (Here’s looking at YOU, Edward, among others!!!)

 

The tune and lyrics to SEPTEMBER SONG keep going through my mind. I looked it up online to post a link, but the version I remember begins as a love/courting song; the original doesn’t.  It better reflects my sentiments these days. This is the Willie Nelson version of the original.

 

I’ll spend all the days I have left (no matter how many or few there turn out to be!) with you by way of this blog.

 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

TO EACH AND EVERY ONE

OF YOU!!!