The removal of natural bone and replacing it with titanium made a vast improvement in my quality of life. The surgery inspired a reassessment of a past, the re-measure of the present, and realignment of goals for the future. Doesn’t that sound nifty?

Before anyone asks me to write a self-help book, it should be noted the biggest driver of the self-examination has been the “down time” associated with recovery. The operation removing years of pain came with a requirement to sit and not move, not do anything, really, for “several” weeks as the incision heals, bruised tissues return to their original color, and the therapeutic drugs work their magic preventing clots and excessive bleeding.

There’s nothing to do but reflect, and it’s been fun to sit in The Chair and watch and read and think.

But the world didn’t stop and wait for me to get better. The world didn’t know I was recovering. It went on without me, all the while shoving its onward motion in my face with news and stories I couldn’t help but read. Some scientists want to “inject” diamond dust into the atmosphere to reflect sunlight and lower the Earth’s temperature. Trump wants to take The Panama Canal Back and annex Greenland. An 81 year old politician not named Biden stopped legislating and entered a nursing home, or “memory center”, without telling anyone. Soto signed with the Mets for a salary higher than some countries GDP. Musk…well, Musk is busy being Musk, an easily distracted, bored, multi-billionaire who knows how to fix America. BTW, if he gave $3 Billion to each state to do with what they want, it might make a difference.

All in all, the month of December has been an example of how important we think we are, followed by the sharp, direct, reminder of how important we aren’t. Sprinkled in this life lesson is some exceptions. For example, how important is toilet paper? Don’t answer, but I now know the man who invented one of the most important things in EVERYONE’S life was Joseph Gayetty, in 1857. His “invention” was “sold in flat sheets watermarked with his name.” It was also medicated to prevent hemorrhoids. His contribution to life is celebrated every minute of every day all over the world, and I’ll bet no one knows his name. For some really good reading about how the cleaning of our butts has changed through the ages, google it. If you have time…like I do.

So is this essay a lament or what? A celebration? A reveal of anything most of us don’t know already?

It is nothing. It is simply a grown man, sitting in a recliner, with nothing to do but ponder.

James Thurber would be proud. (Google him, too.)