A Grandfather's Perspective

Author: PAPA (Page 3 of 16)

ROSEMARY AND THYME

At some point in time every kitchen runs out of essential ingredients. Depletion happens more quickly if one’s cooking specialties are limited. It could be claimed my menus are so limited that one particular meal is prepared and served more often than other main menu items. Pork Tenderloin is so easy to make which suits Papa’s culinary skill level. Plus, it comes in a handy four pack at Costco. Economical meat entree for sure. But, to prepare it herb crusted one does need thyme and rosemary as part of the ingredients.

The simple solution is a quick trip to the grocery store. My closest store does not have hand baskets or small carts. Because my experience tells me that I may encounter other items that are needed/desired or on sale Papa takes a cart designed to hold supplies for a six month trek on the Oregon Trail. Overkill for sure. However, I bring home the less than one ounce bottles of herbs along with twenty pounds of other stuff.

Oven is set for pre-heat and my attention turns to the searing process. All I need to do is open the bottles. I have the knife at the ready to cut the plastic wrap around the caps. I no longer use the larger mongo knife that cut my finger on more delicate packaging opening. Off goes the plastic. Unscew the cap. Wait a min ute. Another plastic shaker top needs to be removed so that I can get to another layer that covers the precious herbal contents. That layer has a tiny tab that flaps up. Teeny is actually a better description. Or, flimsey. The concept, I believe is to grip the tab and pull it off. A simple enough inovation. Except that the tab is slipperier than an eel in oil. Try as I might the old thumb and forefinger that was so important for evolution fails to grasp.

Time for the knife again. Cut, cut, cut until jagged edges of the protective layer are all that remains visible. Papa feels so good because of the knowledge that no evil doer had a chance to contaminate his supply of thyme. I can get on with cooking. As soon as the rosemary bottle is opened. Two more stabs and cuts with the knife. Perhaps it is a testament to human stupidity but Papa does try to surge forward without sharp instruments. Fool me once packagers and you’ll keep fooling me.

Brute force seldom works on packaging anymore, Knifes, box cutters, tin snips and scissors have to be nearby. Do good packagers tout hycientic issues and tamper proof concerns for the overkill by their industry. Thus, ultrasonic welding, blister packs and clamshell devices promote ever more dangerous sharp edged instruments for hand use. Try to open bacon or cream cheese without any stabbing/cutting actions. Perforated lines that never tear. Food is one thing but the worst cut suffered came from the impossible to open packaging of a toilet flapper. What is the societal benefit of stopping that item from being touched?

Again, fair warning: major in a packaging degree at college and you are out of the will.

19 YEARS

Today had to arrive. I’ve thought long and hard about pulling this trigger. It’s something I must do without any mental reservation. Evasion for sure to this point. Will I live long enough to justify taking this action? Life decisions are revolving around this question more and more. Does it really make any sense to go to a dentist for a checkup? How many more years will I be able to drive? Safely? I make the same calculation on many subjects. However, this is a big one. An expensive one.

For the first time in 19 years I’ve bought a new car. Fifth in my lifetime. I had another judge once tell me he bought four cars in an 18 month period. I averaged a new car every 13+ years. Each car served its purpose as long as gas went in the tank, a few tire changes were made and washer fluid was added on a need to use basis. Yes, each received some oil changes but that process is greatly over-rated. But a car can’t last forever. I won’t either so that is why calculations must be made. If I can’t drive this car for at least six years I will really be mad; at myself or my cardiologist. The car will only be half broken in if I die too soon.

For my last car purchase I had a car buying program find the car, send the money and all I had to do was go pick it up. ( That car still runs and is my summer transportation.) USAA stopped that program and that is another reason I dithered about going solo to but a car. I have made 3 trips to dealersips; 3 more than I wanted. I’ve been pitched at least 7 cars that don’t match my criteria. No one listens. Six cars existed but were gone poof before I could purchase. My trim and color are too popular I guess. But, today’s the day. A 4th trip to a dealership/.

I’m a bit on edge though. A new car is going to have sensors, warnings, controls and a screen that make no sense to me. I may need to live the six years to learn how to operate the vehicle. My present car needs to turn a key, push one of two pedals, shift forward or backward, flip on wipers/lights and press a button for radio/tape/cd. The rest on my time is spent concentrqating on driving. That part has not changed since driver’s education classes in high school. On that part I’ve done well….no moving violations in 65 years. It’s as if modern technology awaits to ruin my record. ( “I was looking at a screen that was placed off to the side of my vision as a distraction” rings hollow as a legal excuse.)

Of course, Papa can ignore it all as I often do with most change. Well, it’s best not to complain. As long as the car goes from point A to point B and has an audio compatible with Doris Day, Buddy Holly etc. all will be fine.

ELECTION REFLECTION

It is nearly three months since the presidential election. Just a week+ after inauguration. Papa senses a bit more calm in the nation. To be sure there is still an element of doom and gloom in the media unhappy with the election results. And, it’s all baloons and bubbles for the other side. However, even with some of the most vehement of the partisan media there is a dose of moving on. That situation may be temporary but it is a feeling I have from my own news watching.

Yet, Papa understands that his news watching may be as outdated as his bones. Somewhere I read that younger folks get a majority of their news from sources I barely know exist. Podcasts, blogs and influencers? I’m not even sure how to find them much less sort the good from the bad. Two to three million podcasts in America is one estimate I saw. I know that many of my news sources have migrated to the internet but in many respects they only represent old time media outlets. So, there may be a lot more more going on that is unknown to Papa. As Ann Margaret said in a movie line to an old time film actor favorite of mine, “Comfortable.” I have my entrenched ways.

What do I recommend? Do your own winnowing and sifting but these are the sites on my tablet’s favorites. I go to most on daily basis. A few only once or twice a week. BBC, CBC, CNN, DRUDGE, FOX, FOX BIZ, MILWAUKEE JOURNAL, NY SUN, JERUSALEM POST, REAL CLEAR POLITICS, NY POST, TORONTO STAR, AXIOS, POLITICO, SUN TIMES, YAHOO NEWS, KGW-KOIN-KATU, GLOBAL NEWS.CA

Drudge and Real Clear Politics are good starting points for entry to a variety of sources. The NY Sun is closest to classic journalism. The old time mass journalism sites now charge more than I’m willing to pay for slanted news. I do get a few free articles from them elsewhere. So, I get a tiny taste of the NY Times/Washington Post/Wall Steert Journal.

These next four years may be interesting. More governance and less jibber-jabbering would be nice. Mostly, Papa hopes that 2028 brings a chance to vote for a presidential candidate from one of the two main political parties. 16 years is a long time. Wow, will marking a ballot at age 85 be the most strenuous bodily function attainable? A goal for the future.

SPECIAL DAY

Today Papa watched television coverage of the re-opening of Notre Dame Cathedral. Hope spring back to life was a thought provoked. It marks the first time I’ve ever harbored the thought of visiting France. Well, that’s not entirely true….Normandy is an old dream. Let’s say a first such feeling towards Paris. A magnificent reconstruction. Makes the original building hundreds of years ago all the more amazing. No one recorded by whom or how that construction happened. Yet, a professor type today reported she learned much about the craftsmanship of so long ago by looking at tool cuts into uncovered stone at heights accessed by re-building scaffolds.

Remarkably this is another day on which Papa marvels at being up and at it. Quadruple heart by-pass was 36 years ago. All the stuff I’ve seen. The scary 2000 calendar change in the rear view mirror. ( It was a thing….computers might crash in confusion.) An entire new legal career. A longer retirement than ever thought possible. And, you four rascals. I once tried to track down my heart surgeon to thank him but no success. He’s living on a boat somewhere near Florida is all I learned. Let those skilled hands live in peaceful retirement.

And, of course, December 7th means so much in American history. Read history. Know the history of Pearl Harbor. A man of 104 years of age from Beaverton made the trip back to remember. Took PT so he could stand/participate. When you hear “greatest generation” there is a ton of truth to the moniker.

69 CENT CHICKEN & DEMOCRATS

Your great-grandmother sometimes sent Papa to a grocery store for a gallon of milk or a few needed items. There were four grocery stores within two blocks of our house. Off I’d go. I can’t recall whether I ever noted the cost of what I purchased. It was simple. I had a list, money in hand, items to carry home and change to return after accomplishing my mission. Later in life I started to pay attention to costs. Penny candy was about the limit of my understanding of the value of money in my early days.

All of this changes when you are on your own. When employed there is an in and out flow of money that very quickly becomes noticeable. Flush on payday devolves into watching declining balances until the next payday. The old paycheck to paycheck life. It takes a variety of experiences for folks to adjust to handling money. If ever. Some people never get money under control. Beware that excessive debt can rear its head. Papa was lucky to the extent that I did not have a credit card until near age forty. It only took a month or so to figure out the trap of living beyond one’s means. Pay your credit card balance in full each month is my best advice.

The price of chicken is on my mind because it is an item I remember from the start. Twenty-nine cents a pound ranged up to thirty-nine cents per pound when I first started to pay attention to prices. Unless you are born with a slver spoon, win the lottery or invent a super gizmo early in life your first working years may have a slug it out feeling. Keep trucking. However, there came a day for me when an uphill climb became discouraging. Chicken was sixty-nine cents a pound at one store. I found it cheaper elsewhere. I don’t recall the exact year but I had the distinct thought that if chicken ever went higher per pound we were doomed. Like a dollar a pound. Sixty-nine cents a pound became my barometer for the economy. Or, more accurately, what I felt was my personal sink or swim financial level.

Papa also developed a barometer for the democrat party. My hometown was blue collar through and through. Union membership was the norm. Wisconsin did not have voter registration by party but I assume most locals voted for democrats. I think the state representatives in the nearby area were democrats with one exception. A large Catholic population seemed democrat to my young eyes. JFK created excitement when he stopped by a few local factories in 1960. I equated republicans as richer, more advantaged folks. Not bad but certainly not in tune with the paycheck to paycheck existence of many families in my hometown. I think only 20 % of my high school class had the opportunity to go to college. After completing military service the boys were back to work in the city of homes and industry.

Party voting was galvanized in my mind one night in a local tavern. (City of homes, industry and taverns more appropriate?) At any rate, over the years I discovered a lot of wisdom near 72nd and National. I recall one discussion of politics and the state of the country. Three working men were talking issues. As I listened I remember thinking that they sounded more conservative than my concept of democrats. So, I asked the question. I don’t recall the republican candidate at the time but these men seemed more in tune with his views. They looked at me as if I was crazy. Of course not they protested. They’d never vote for a republican. Their families had been democrats since the 1930’s. Yet, they were certainly not supportive of the hippie/anti war crowd associated with the democrat party at the time.

Fast forward to 2024 and before the vote I calculated that whichever party lost should welcome the chance to make corrections. Change if the republicans had lost seems as if it’d be easier. With Trump and his personality gone the party could duke it out internally for a successor. However, it turns out that the democrats lost. Their comeback now may be a heavier lift. Papa is not a supporter/member/registered voter of either party. But, I love all things political/historical. 2024 has been very interesting.

In June of 2023 I wrote on this blog that all the criminal charges beimg levied against Trump by democrats might turn out to be a bad idea. There’d already been a steady negative media stream against him since 2016. The big Mueller investigation and then two impeachents. Finally, the old nail in the coffin of nearly 100 charges. It has always amazed me that Clinton, Biden, Harris, democrat party and most of the media is obsessed by Trump. The negative of his persona seems too apparent to remain so focused. I get it. He’s got issues. Now, move on. However, none seem able to move on from making Trump the center of attention. After his 2024 election the party might want/need to do serious soul searching.

Which brings me back to chicken. Papa is now comfortable in a financial sense. I routinely pay more than 69 cents a pound. Boneless, skinless has been seen at 7 to 8 dollars a pound in certain stores these past few years. At a high price point I pay some attention at the nusiance. I buy certain things with the mentality of a splurge. However, it is important to never lose sight that there are a ton of people who may not be able to put some items on the table at various price points. All through my life, especially on the bench, I tried not to lose sight of the working men and women from my hometown experience. They are good, hard working people. Somehow the democrat political party has to regain its recognition that these folks harbor their own version of Papa’s 69 cent chickedn stardard. They are the folks dreading tomorrow because they see an economic sinking. They can sense that things are not right. Nearly 100 criminal charges and a steady stream of shouts that votes are needed to save them from an evil person. How high can a pile be of more and more and repeated stacks of reasons proving someone is a bad person?

Everyday for years it was a “look how bad he is, ;look how bad he is.” The next day “look how bad he is.” And, the next and the next days awful proof of how bad he is. Exhausting. Getting folks riled up. Always working the fear angle. A monster. No, he’s not a monster. He’s worse. No, he’s Hitler. Are you riled up enough? Have to make sure no one votes for Hitler. Or, a crook as witnessed by charges in New Youk, Georgia and US courts. Almost 100 charges he’s so bad. Did the press mention he’s really, really bad? They can pile on more in order to support the democrat candidate. Is it possible that some around 72nd and National felt too much piling on made a mockery of our justice system and rubbed Americans sense of fair play the wrong way?

Well, I suspect that those folks in my hometown also had their own cost of living pain level. Chicken prices in Papa’s mind but gasoline, milk, eggs and butter for others. Those forever democrats in my memory changed and many voted for Trump. Mostly, I suspect they voted against hyper-inflation, 300,000 missing migrant kids toiling away as child labor or worse, millions of illegals driving down wages, easy peasy drug flow into the US with its attendant cime and a world on fire with wars. Nearly three years of war in Europe and it feels normal.

Knee jerk reaction from the press and most democrat party leaders to the 2024 election result again is “Resist!” Wow, that’s a lesson learned. However, there is some hope when a few democrats and a few in the media suggest that perhaps it’s time to do some soul searching. Perhaps getting back to basics of the party. I remember those common sense, lean a bit right men who’d never consider voting republican. Many probably claim it was the party that abandoned them. It will be interesting to see if voters can be recaptured or are lost.

It well may be time for democrats to get away fom the looney left. That was a cliff they took the party over. Thud!

DATING

In my usual flip manner, Papa thought he’d give advance advice on dating by saying, “It’s every man for themselves.”* The phrase has been floating around in my mind for some time. It harkens back to what an erstwhile young attorney thought at a crucial time. I was waiting to use it on an appropriate topic. There was no rush of course. I assumed you’d be as shy and slow as I had been when approaching dating. ( Side Note: Recent news indicate that 80% of boys age 15-18 in Japan have not had a first kiss. Even slower than Papa? ) I am guilty of viewing you as so very young. In the twilight of life it is easy to forget how one felt at age 16. On reflection I was more responsible/mature than seemingly given credit for by adults yet with lots of too big for britches swagger.

So, where do you start on the dating game? Through the lens of age Papa has already come up short. It’s too lete. You rascals have already had your first dates. Homecoming, dances and resturants. I wrongly assumed LEGOs still had your full attention. With school and some sports thrown in I had you pegged at age 12? Age 13 at most. Where did the years go? It seems like it took forever to get from the fifth grade to the sixth for me. You speeded up the process. But, there you are; seasoned daters.

Do I close this post as moot or do I have any advice? Two words come to mind. Respect and consent. Also, keep in mind to smile, be polite, pay attention to date, don’t eat as if at a trough, keep language clean and be yourself. Then share having all your fun with your date. Good luck; it’s every man for himself. Or.**

  • (In the halls of the courthouse a young attorney exited divorce court with his client. Relief was in the air. A proverbial meaner than a junk yard dog husband had not attended the divorce hearing. However, the seething, fire breathing hubby was simply running late. He exited an elevator and was fast approaching. He did not care about legal niceties but was looking for angry confrontation. Whether the words were actually spoken or imagined, the young lawyer’s instinct was along the lines of it’s every man for himself. That’s the story he related after the fact when thankfully no damage occurred. Papa learned another appropriate saying after spending a few days with the youngest grandson; **”Run, run as fast as you can.” )

ELECTION PREDICTION

Floods may be overwhelming Spain but that deluge pales when compared with the heaps of “what if” opinions about tomorrow’s election outcome. There is a little something for everybody in reporting and analyzing polls. By now you may know which of the media outlets will provide aide and comfort to each side of the political spectrum. Hope is raised for each candidate only to be dampened by the fear that something horrible could happen if one does not vote. Papa is a history/politics junkie so it has been fun to watch since returning fom Cape Breton. I have read only one opinion that makes sense. It took an old football adage to emphasize a political point.

Football coach Woddy Hayes was famous for saying that three things can happen with a forward pass; and that two of them are bad. A political pundit discussed the value of polls in predicting this election. There are three possible outcomes for pollsters. Two are dangerous and one is safe. The polls have been consistently near tie status in the seven so called swing states. Which of the polls will correctly predict the winner? Who is the next annointed guru who will carry more weight in 2028? Or, who will be wrong and thus endanger staying in business to poll in 2028? Somebody has to be paying for the polling expertise. A risk reward situation.

To be safe there is the third route. Predict a tie as polls/outcome is too close to call. Papa, still on his mission to send a message to the political parties to put up a serious candidate, will nonetheless enjoy watching voting results tomorrow. It will be a more emotionally even keeled experience without a horse in the race. Alcohol to drown sorrows will not be needed. Agitated sleep will not cause Wednesday to be a day of fatigue. Blood presurre will be close to okay. Sure won’t be off my feed. It will be interesting to go to the gym that day and try to guess who voted for whom by the looks on the faces of members. Or, will America give a giant sigh of relief until 2028? In that regard a clear, near landslide result might be what the doctor ordered. Early to bed wouldn’t hurt either. Fingers crossed.

CONSEQUENTIAL ELECTION

Three of you will not be able to vote in a presidential election until 2028. Papa does hope that you are nonetheless paying attention this year. If so, you undoubtedly have heard the above phrase bandied about. Wow! I guess someone thinks this election is important. Papa’s first vote in a presidential election was in 1964. LBJ had a commercial with a little girl pulling petals off a daisy with a countdown from 10 to zero; at which point an atomic bomb blew up. Watching that mushroom cloud was scary. The message was clear. A wrong vote meant death.

Apparently the voters in 1964 were paying attention. They didn’t elect some crazed blow up the world candidate. The country was enough on edge; 216 soldiers had already been killed in action in 1964. Cold War was raging. Would not want to make matters worse by electing the wrong candidate. Country ducked disaster. Nevermind that 1965 saw 1.928 Americans die in combat; 6,350 in 1966; 11, 363 in 1967, 16,899 in 1968 and so on.

Every four years voters are told that this is the year of the most important election in history/lifetime/ever. Papa keeps waiting for a politician to claim that the next election is the 4th or 7th most important. However, it is always the election of doom or gloom. Get scared and vote for one or the other. Both political parties are never short on selling fear. Fears that flow right through the voter to the toes is best for getting votes. Who in their right mind would want to vote for a monster? Or, for a candidate who will take all your money, deny you health care/life support and enslave half the population?

When it is your turn to vote use your brain to overcome emotions. Don’t have high expectations for candidates/office holders. Lean a bit on physicians advice, “First do no harm.” Less may be the best first instinct when it comes to government/politicians. And, remember that 2028 will be the most critical vote you will ever cast. For sure. No doubt about it.

MORE NUMBERS

Papa has never been big on gambling. When I was young I did of course play Sheepshead for nickles. 5,10,15 cents double on the bump. Years later, after Kiwanis meetings, the stakes were the same. Have gone to Vegas twice and its tables were too fast for my style. I prefer to lose my money slowly without a frenzied pace that reeves up anxiety levels. Pace reminds me of the one gambling I have enjoyed for many decades. Pacing horse races at the Inverness raceway.

Everything is slow and easy at this track. It’s a community event as much as it is serious racing/gambling. Nothing frantic. It is one of the most comfortable venues for entertainment to be experienced. I don’t recall anyone anxious about a race or betting. There is no scurrying to place bets. Every now and then there might be a bit of a cheer for a win by a hometown favorite. After each race a few up to 20 or 30 people cross the track for a photo with the winning horse. Occasionally I will do what my dad did and place bets based on specific, meaningful numbers. On my last day at the races my mind was on high school so I bet a trifecta on my homeroom number and won. Good old 245.

The thought of high school was naturally on my mind. Two of you are juniors this year and one starts his freshman year. On crutches, after a broken ankle sustained at soccer practice. Papa thinks of all the soccer moms who were so happy their sons didn’t play football and avoided getting injured. My memory of high school remains vivid. The transition from freshman to senior was anything but seamless. It remarkably was one of floundering confidence at its start and overhyped vim by graduation. Solid formative years in retrospect. The last reunion of our class is history but I was fortunate enough to have the same 4 friends/ mates at the table as when we were at a school event fifty-five years previously. Not too common an occurrence at our ages.

I have limited insight what high school is like today. I simply hope it is as fun and rewarding for you as it was for me. Whether via our face to face interactions or modern device conduits I suspect there will be moments of social anxiety for you. It will not be serious in the long run. More like annoying speed bumps. Hormones are bouncing around inside and some days will feel like the entire student body woke up one fine morning and decided to judge something about you. Clothes, complexion or uncontrollable hair. Don’t let things get under your skin or too deep in your brain. It will work out. I hope that friendships develop that will bring fond memories as well as reunions.

What is different today is a phenomenon I can never understand. School violence. Crazy kids acting out with guns. I think the difference isn’t the guns part of the equation. We had plenty of guys in high school who hunted and had guns. Jerry, who sat near me in home room, often talked a lot about shooting his rifle over a weekend. He didn’t participate in any school activities. Never saw him at a sporting event, dance or clubs in high school. Shooting/hunting and working on cars is what I remember about him. He wasn’t fully engaged in high school as I thought one should be. Yet, at graduation I was surprised. He received one of, if not the only, perfect attendance pins awarded.

We all got sick and missed some school. But, there was no hard core truancy. Central High had a truant officer. It may have been one or two and done in those days. Mr. D. and a kid’s parents would have put a stop to that. I also do not remember thinking of another student as being any more dangerous than having the capacity to launch spitballs. There was a bit of talk about tough guys but no one that created fear of life or limb. Violence in school was best depicted by a movie of the times, The Blackboard Jungle. Insolence by smarty pants boys who defied classroom decorum while a gang was up to no good. It created quite a stir at the time mostly because of the effect of its rock and roll music. (Sorry, it’s a black and white film.) Even then it was hard to view Sidney Poitier as menacing. Much less “Klinger”. The movie was somewhat shocking at the time but not in the sense that it reflected the reality of my high school. We were in a very traditional blue collar, Midwestern environment.

it’d take a host of experts to know what has happened in the ensuing sixty years to create the madness of school shooters. Perhaps the failure to treat or separate mentally ill individuals that started in the sixties. Or, the dismissive attitude to the value of fathers in a child’s upbringing. ( In the 1980’s I was at a custard stand window and overheard two teenage girls talking about one’s pregnancy. The mother to be enthused about money to be received, rent/transport subsidies and freedom to live alone. Not a word about the boy’s responsibilities. What struck me was the reaction of the friend who didn’t say “whoa but for the grace of God go I” but rather that it was a way to independence. A very unlike reaction to the girls I recalled in high school.) How unfair was my other thought that the newborn faced high odds of doom? Tolerance for antisocial behaviors for years in schools may play a long term role. Consequences can be good for the soul. Glorying guns in movies/videos filled with gore can’t help. Political theater seems to divert from going after root causes. Limit the number of bullets seems akin to saying there is an acceptable level of dead people. No guns owned per some foreign countries results in stabbings.

You’ll be long out of high school before solutions are found, much less addressed. I would not count on either of our major political parties to step up on the issue. It’s too good of an issue to allow solutions. Beat the other party over the head with simplistic pros and cons. However, it’s not simple. I hope and pray that your school is not visited by such hate/craziness. Keep your eyes open is best advice to give. You and your fellow students plus teachers are the ones who may observe and know who is a danger. Don’t be afraid to speak out about legitimate concerns.

OOPS!


Papa lost August. Or, I was lost in August. During the nearly three months of my stay at Sight Point I can easily say this is the best and longest stretch of great weather, ever. Its been get out and do time this year. An extra incentive to be active is the dawning realization that my years of besting this rugged terrain is limited. Even modest pick and shovel work takes its toll. However, the original cabin/kitchen is back on a foundation and nearly complete. The sleeping cabin remains sturdy and comfy. When I was close to freezing that first summer of retirement was more than enough motivation to build that second cabin. Everyone is home again and I will wrap up 2024 soon.

I may have neglected writing at this site but I was doing my usual thinking and musing. Yesterday reminded me of 9 and 2 in horse racing. Your great- grandfather occasionally sent two dollars with a friend to bet on the daily double at Arlington race track. He’d place it on 9 and 2. His first grandchild was born on September 2nd. I remember babysitting for two hours one night so her parents could go out for dinner. Now I am struck by the swiftness of time’s passage. That little niece died before the age of sixty. As did two of her three sisters. My fourth niece is not yet sixty and none of it makes any sense. I can be thankful that neither my brother or his wife lived to see a daughter die. Yet, they are all gone at young ages and the sorrow stings.

The usual bromide response would be to make the absolute best of each and every day. Papa is not so sure on this one. I do like to avoid pressure. Is there a judge out there in space, heaven or an App. that needs to be convinced? Of what? Your worthiness? I had a co- worker who showed up for work everyday with strict production goals. Yellow stickers advocating “ focus” or “ success” littered the cubical walls. I saw anxiety where others may have been in awe of such determination. Dare I say there can be some good and bad days? Are the baskets to be filled by places visited, mountains climbed or challenges met the way to make the best of each day?

Okay, life can be short. Life is short even for an eighty year old. How about a simple goal of being at peace with how you got from zero to whatever? As in having core values that you followed. Whether as a speed racer or a functionary. Avoid anger. ( the usual Chicago Bear exception applies here) Do your best. Live and let live. Follow your own brain. Apps, Bots and even old grandpa’s don’t know what is best for you. And, when your time comes, and it surely will, spend as much time as possible at Sight Point. It’s getting ready for you.

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