The top pin up poster girl of the 70's dies at age 62, to young in my book.
Then, the King of Pop dies at 50, well, I guess if you look at him--now--not back in the 70's and 80's when he was killing us with his dancing--something wasn't right. But did it have to end in death at this young age? Why not a stroke or a little insanity?
Their deaths made me feel a little bit vulnerable to the terminal nature of life. Somewhere in the hinter reaches of my brain, I know that we all die, but this sure brought it home.
Believe it or not, this brings me to my point for this blog.
Two days at the beach just did not hit the spot. I know, you are thinking, for crying out loud, how can you lay back on the beach and not have the best time of your life?
For me, vacations are earned. You work at a job, tolerating this and that, going through some kind of personal hell, raising kids, meeting commitments for volunteer stuff, or serving this mighty world in some other way. Then, you get a reward...vacation.
Well, I'm always on vacation, I'm retired. Going to the beach just doesn't seem earned. There are too many things I need to get done--or, worry about getting done...no house, poor communications down here, stuff and more stuff.
When I get this stuff done I can go to the beach. Then I'll have earned it.
Never mind that it takes almost no time to do this worrying but some one has to do it!
So, I was tolerating the beach, preoccupied with not knowing what was going on, or better put, what was not going on with the house.
Yella on the other hand, loved the beach. You see, she just finished a play that consumed all her time for weeks.
She needed a break. I didn't.
Then these people die and it really hits home that I'm not doing much in the way of contributing to this life now. Even with the worrying, I have a lot of time on my hands.
I miss it. Being a contribution. Having a purpose. This retirement thing is not all it's cracked up to be...yet.
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