So I am old. Get over it. Starting to blog at 59 seems silly. maybe. But then again, who else is going to chronicle my life? Who else is going to get down on paper my thoughts? By most reckoning I have used up 75% of my time on earth. I had better get cracking.
Not believing in the afterlife puts this into perspective. You got one shot on earth. Your life could be over today. My life, tomorrow.
So who is this for? My daughters? They don't seem to care who I am or where we came from. But then, they are young. I would like to say it was different when I was a late teen, early twenties person but no. It comes down to I don't know a lot about my family. I didn't ask. They don't ask. Would it be nice to know now? Sure, but it's too late. Dad passed away in 2004; Mom just one week ago. Of course she was pretty much gone for the last three or four years anyway. I did have some interesting conversations with her a couple of years ago but nowhere near the in depth it would have been nice to have. Her stories, while funny in some ways were like the grooves on a record player, ingrained and worn from many tellings, some of the character worn off in the telling. How much was true and how much was as she wished it have been? I don't know. I do know from the stories she told that her upbringing on rented pig farms south of Buffalo remained a driving force in how she lived all aspects of her life from views on unmarried relations to money to how kids should be responsible for their parents.
Anyhow, Not for kids, not for friends, must just be for me and anyone who wanders in.