65

My 65th birthday today – how time flies! I think I had been dreading the day, somehow, but when I woke, with Rob beside me, and light peeking through the gap in the bedroom curtain, a sudden thought possessed me, I don’t know why: that if there had not been Eileen, there would not be Kathy and Eve and Jono, and if there was no Kathy and Eve and Jono, there would be no Josh and Tom and Gabe. If there were not a Rob, I would not be as happy as I am now. Life moves in mysterious ways, and its gifts are not always obvious at first. And from there, I found myself thinking, every day is a gift. That should be my resolution, and philosophy, for the years I have left. Today is the first gift.

Impotence and Gasworks

My wife said, on reading my Last Post, ‘It looks like you’re telling the whole world you’re impotent. And you’re not.’ Bless her. Impartial, naturally, and blunt (Polish Catholic American Canadian), I have to agree with her. There is no impotence here. Impotence is absent. But let me tell you what there’s lots of – as I crest the hill of 65, and open my lungs and breathe deeply – there’s Gasworks. In one end, and out the other, oh yeah baby – the machinery might be starting to creak, at sixty five, but the gasworks is just getting started. Just firing up, so to speak. You lose some things, you discover others.