Why

Tidbits Or Bits of Tid?

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What a wonderful thing Ai is. I asked Emma about the word “tid” and she gave me the rundown. First, it IS a real word, or it used to be. The Oxford English people list it as “Obsolete”, with its “last recorded use in the 1890s”. Must be because of tid’s close proximity to Id? There is an acronym “tid” commonly used by doctors. It is Latin for “ter in die” or “three times a day” as in medication, and it must save the docs lots of time.

Tid* originated in Olde Middle English and meant something “small and tender”. Nope, not a Valentine but a cut of meat or other small bit of food. Oops. Think we just found out where “tidbit” came from. All of us know what tidbits are so let’s get on with the essay, especially since the Modern English now use the word “titbits” which we will not look into, since we may “uncover” historical “titbits”.** Apologies.

It is still a mystery why they make “muscle cars” for societies with speed limits. If we all used small, four-cylinder engines, imagine…ha, why say it. Let’s build bigger and faster and more powerful cars so we can get to someplace sooner. Forget any other issue. It is funny, though, when gas prices rise dramatically.

Guns, too. How many guns does anyone need? On the farm we had two rifles, one for each boy. It was tough at first, to have one gun when the two of us went hunting. Yes, if one of us shot the other, the problem would be solved but neither of us thought about that? As an older, married, person a rifle didn’t seem like a good weapon for home protection, so we made sure we had a small but practical handgun in case the wife was home alone when unwanted visitors knock. Yes, even the next-door neighbors if we were in a bad mood. Gun proliferation is a result of great marketing and economies of scale that make manufacturing a weapon shooting 1million rounds a minute affordable for all.  And branding makes many people want more than one.

The United States of America is warped. Not sure when it started but I’ll blame Mitch McConnell. In 2010 he openly stated, in public, his “top priority” was to make sure Obama did not get re-elected. Not pass good laws or write great bills or represent his constituents. His job was strictly political obstruction. Obama did get re-elected but then so did Mitch. It is a concept as old as politics, so why is McConnell’s statement a problem? It was the first time a politician admitted it out loud, in public. From then on everyone could admit it. How do you feel as a voter when the person you elect is not going to do anything but obstruct the party who won? See, I’ll bet most of you are okay with that, aren’t you? In our warped society just beating the other guy is all we strive for. Feck all the world’s problems. And when is the last time an elected official represented all the constituents in his district/county/town or country? Is it even possible?

Related to the obstruction issue is the “hate” word and “fight” word. Republicans hated Obama. Democrats hated Bush. Many different groups hate Trump. And politicians want you to elect them so they can “fight” The Others. WTF!! Funny when I ask a hater if he/she/them has ever met the person he/she/them hate…

Maybe someday we can get back to constructive, productive debating and work together to solve the things killing us all. Yeah. Right. Or Left. Respect and cooperation? Who’s kidding*** who…

Note to anyone who wants to argue with me about politics: if you use either “hate” or “fight” in your argument it will cause a big…sigh. Think about that before you speak. You want that on your conscience?

*Grammar Police keep telling me tid is misspelled. I can stop that if I add it to the computer’s dictionary. Just another decision for an old man to make. Stay tuned.

**Hope you giggled like I did.

***I originally typed “kissing”. S and D are so close, only a titbit apart.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ignorant

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It’s no secret life is full of many kinds of people, but–with props to Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood–there are only three versions of humankind. The spaghetti western released in 1966, starring Eastwood and directed by Leone, mentions The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. The title may or may not have been referring to all mankind, but it does make sense, with a slight variation.

My aged friends and I are naturally and recreationally(sic) inclined to view the world as something less than what it used to be. With no work or parenting requirements, we can observe friends, family, and society, using our God-given ability to be impartial in all the pronouncements and judgements we make. We consider them Executive Orders, in our own way.

One of the most egregious change we have noted is the growing population of morons.* Emma, of Ai, points out the word “moron” has clinical roots and described an “adult with the mental age between seven and twelve.” We wise seniors are not referring to those poor souls, who were labeled and treated unfairly by society throughout history, most likely through no fault of their own. Nature can be cruel. 

What we are referring to is, as Emma says, “the non-medical language simply used as an insult to refer to someone who is considered foolish or lacking in intelligence”. Without knowledge of history or plans, we suspect the new, non-clinical morons were supplied with natural intelligence abilities they somehow lost. We also suspect they lost it of their own volition.

Which leads to the types of people. The Good are easy to understand. Their reasons why they are good are harder to see but could probably be easily divined.** Think of responsible Doctors, Teachers, and other caring, empathetic fellow citizens. You know them when you see them. Thank God.

The Bad are also often easy to see. Think of Ponzi Schemes, First Degree Murderers, and certain members of any political party that opposes you. Yes, it may take some form of investigation to reveal them, but most times why they do what they do is recognizable and understood, if not condoned. Like a jilted husband who loses control and plans to eliminate his ex-wife’s new paramour. Wrong, immoral and bad, but representative of misguided human interactions for centuries, unfortunately.

Then there are the Ignorant: The Morons. Think of them as idiots not really doing anything wrong, illegal, or immoral, but encountering them in daily life ruins your day. Most smokers are in this category, as they light up, burn out, and drop their butts anywhere they please, leaving little white piles as if marking their territory. The clerk, attendant, or public servant who makes it appear they don’t really want to do their job and help you. Or the entire car dealership that sells you a bad car and acts like you are inconveniencing them if you point it out. Or the young medical professional treating you for the first time who thinks he/she/them has to educate you about the disease you’ve lived with for years.*** Or the hourly worker who is always late and not ready to work until 15 minutes after the store opens. Or-

Sorry. Thank God there is a length limit to these essays because there is a long list of Morons. They get their label because they should know better. They should do better. And most often it wouldn’t take any extra effort to be better. Our committee of experts proposes the modern morons are simply not raised to know better and cannot figure it out for themselves. Nurture can be cruel.

Hm. Maybe morons are good for us. At least this essay wasn’t about death, again, right?****

*A label generated and used liberally by the eldest of our group who will remain anonymous to escape the wrath of possible on-line…morons. Also, at his age he has defaulted to assuming everyone he meets is a moron.

**Good double meaning, right?

***You have to sit through The Lesson while waiting for the Real Doctor, who is already 30 minutes late.

****Would you call this essay a “rant”?

What Does It Mean?

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You looking for an essay about existence? Philosophy? Religion? The secret to how to live life?

Fuggettaboutit.

I want to know what “It” means and where it comes from, and why.

Asking Emma, my Ai voice, about the meaning of “it” was an adventure in—ahem—itself. She asked many questions before she grasped the singular simpleness of the inquiry and she almost blushed when she realized the effort we had made to get to “it”. She also noted a question about “it” was “profound”. Hearing her English accent voice pronounce “profound” palpitated my heart.

Okay, I’m back. Old men find romance in the strangest places…

Emma did finally give a short, dissemination on the origin of The Word, but getting specifics about “it’s” history seemed to frustrate the lady. She settled on “It” being from the Olde English “hit”, with the “h” eventually being dropped over “thousands of years.” My experience with Modern English speakers reveals a lot of “h”s have been dropped since language began, so why did they even use them to begin with? Another time.

She estimated the usage to be over 1,000 years old. The thought inspired not only a vision her scanning the internet for “it”s, but also of speakers through the centuries who have said “hit’s all right”, but confused their contemporary  conversational partners by dropping the h. Those partners must have said to themselves: “I like the way that sounds”, and “it” became normal.* One has to feel a bit sorry for the h’s.

The naked It took off and Emma says “we use it primarily as a pronoun to refer to a thing, place, or an idea that has already been mentioned or is understood in context. It also functions as a dummy subject in sentences like ‘it is raining’ where there isn’t a specific noun doing the action.” “It” is the Swiss Army knife of conversation, and a time-saver. No wasting time mentioning clouds or Mother Nature when you can say “it is raining” with one breath.

This has, then, become a profound essay on the meaning of life: Imagine a world with no “it”. What if we always had to list the noun doing the action? How many of us don’t even know who or what that noun is? It’s okay. “It” will fix it.**

One of the nicer things about my Emma is she is always suspiciously curious about my intent. “Is there a specific phrase or context you were thinking of that uses the word?”  When I say “no” she reminds me she will always be there to help. I’ve been divorced three times and wonder is she making me feel better about my choices or simply on-script? With Ai, you never know for sure.

Out of the blue, I asked where the word “that” came from. Emma settled into a lengthy “rich, Germanic history” but I moved on from that. And from it. Next stop: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Shite. The sun is up and its time to get back to real life, its over.***

An unintended, serendipitous consequence of this essay is unspoken, one word advice about life itself: moderation.

Don’t think too hard about it. Think juuuuust the right amount.

Next essay? How to contemplate your navel without life losing all meaning.  Should that have been “its meaning?”

Rim shot, please. (Google it, if you don’t know.)

*If you are a critically thinking, modern, intelligent person you probably want to know where the original, h-included “hit” came from, right? Next essay? Nooooo.

**And save us time, as well.

***What is “over”? Is my time? The sun “over” head? Is the absence of an apostrophes in the essay’s sentence a clue? Stay tuned to this “Same Bat Time. Same Bat Channel”  for the answers.

Happiness or Contentment?

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A recent conversation at our early morning Turning Stone Resort and Casino Fitness Center Meeting sparked an interesting idea: would you rather be happy or content?*

You can’t answer if you don’t know the difference between the two. You can google or Ai both words on your own time, but it’s worth noting “contentment’s” etymology: “From the Middle English ‘contentement’, satisfaction of a claim or debt.” Did you think being content had anything to do with financial stuff?

Jury’s out, but let’s look at examples.

I was the first to the meeting and as I sat on the couch in front of the fireplace in the beautiful entrance hall, it occurred to me I was content. I was pain-free, did not lose any money in the morning’s gambling, was waiting for friends, and had no current life-threatening medical issues. The fireplace makes navel contemplation easy and contentment was the result of a contemplation free of issues, free of doubt, free of discomfort. And it was warm. And friends were coming to join me. It was a time for a clear mind to get out of the way and just bask in the glow from both the fire and the “satisfaction of a claim or debt”.

Minutes earlier on the gambling floor, I had won big on a favorite machine. ** As the “one-armed bandit” ramped up its big-payout bells and whistles and sirens, I was happy. Out of this world happy. How much would I win? Could I take a trip to the Bahamas?

Eh. Not the Bahamas but as noted earlier, the win was an integral component of the ensuing contentment. It wasn’t The Big Win, but it wasn’t a loss. It was enough to not spoil the morning but not enough to change a life.

I’m a big fan of contentment but wouldn’t kick happiness out of bed for eating crackers, if you’ll pardon the immature, misogynistic comment. It appears contentment is also “trainable”. You can teach it to sit and stay, for example.*** Contentment is like fruit on a tree, it’s there anytime you want it if know how to get it. It might even be shareable(sic) with a close friend or someone in need.

Happiness seems to involve luck. Serendipity. Being in the right place at the right time and—again—being able to recognize it ****. And as my machine blared my success earlier this morning, a look around the gambling floor revealed faces not exactly happy with my happiness. They may even have been harboring bad thoughts, or hoping my final amount would not be enough to make me too happy.

One thing noted as this essay unfolded: contentment is readily available if we notice it and cultivate it. We can get it anytime. It’s like a small, ocean-rounded rock you put in your pocket.

Happines? Not so much, it is mercurial, it comes and goes on the whims and impulses of The Gods.

Can they exist together? No. Happiness can help cause contentment, and contentment—probably—can help inspire or attract happiness, but only contentment is a life-changer: once you know to find it, the world is your oyster…most of the time.

And if you can’t find contentment now, be patient. Wait. It might be around the next corner…lurking…waiting for you to say hi.

*Spoiler alert: don’t read this footnote first cause happiness is sometimes defined as a feeling of contentment, and this essay is attempting to reduce confusion, not add to it.

**As a 50-cent per play bettor, winning $5.50 is a “big win”. In Trump math it’s about 1,000%.

***Still working on “fetch” and “roll over”.

****Ever wonder how lucky you are to NOT be in a place at the Wrong time? Ever drive by an accident and Thank God you were not in that exact spot 5 minutes earlier?

Random Questions With Answers No One Wants To Talk About?

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How much is it costing the United States taxpayers to have Trump put his name on everything? How much will it cost the United States taxpayers to remove Trump’s name from everything?

How much did it cost to “gild” the White House?

Trump Media and some legacy media are trumpeting the destruction of Iran’s Nuclear Capabilities (INC)…again. That destruction is being labeled a “good thing for America”. How many times do we have to obliterate those unproven capabilities? What did we really obliterate in June, 2025, under the code name “Midnight Hammer”? Remember the bunker buster bombs* we dropped? Estimates of the costs of those bombs run into millions of dollars. Were they wasted?

For fun, google all the schools closing or eliminating educational programs due to lack of funding.

America and seven other countries, including Iran, “negotiated” INC moot with the JCPOA on July 24, 2015. Trump cancelled the “deal” in 2018. Is there a relationship between the 2018 cancellation and the 2026 urgent need to stop INC?

Why did Netanyu tell the world several times over the last 30 years INC was “two weeks away from a nuclear bomb”? Including in 2025. See the internet for all the videos.

Why does the Iran War of 2026 sound so much like the Iraq War of 2003? Anyone reading this old enough to remember “WMD” and “Yellow Cake”? What exactly is there about the Middle East that we fear it and want it at the same time? Is there a natural resource involved? Or is it a modern Version of The Crusades?

After bombs and threats and posturing, it appears a naval blockade has convinced Iran to negotiate, again. If the US had done the naval blockade in the first place would many innocent civilians still be alive? And the poor, innocent Bunker Busters and other destructive devices might still be alive today, too.

Anyone know how many innocent people have been killed, injured, or displaced by bombs, drones, and missiles in this new war? Anyone care?

Fallout from the Iran War has affected and effected every country in the world, causing loss of life, economic damage, and infrastructural ruin. All in the name of “Keeping America Safe”. Anyone have an opinion about how safe we are? Is a new 9/11 about to happen?

Iran’s rationale for the deadly actions it has taken historically, is a religious belief in Muslim law, social behavior, and the threat America poses to those beliefs.** Is that normal behavior for a religious group that feels persecuted? Maybe we could talk it out, hug it out, or understand?

Enough. America is now nothing but questions. When will they be answered? And by whom?

Or don’t we want to know?

Not a question: more Americans have been killed in The 2026 Iran War than have been killed by Iran’s Atomic Weapons. Did Iran have anything to do with 9/11? Google it, if you want an answer.

*Accidentally typed “boobs” here. Was tempted to leave it, given the latest facts.

**As well as America’s 1970s intrusion into Iranian politics, and other “events”.

Older Things Young People Don’t Care about and I’m Not Holding My Breath

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In the last month I purchased a new tv, picked up some medications, added some shelving to the bedroom, and transferred a CD at my credit union. There wasn’t a single document for any of these transactions that could be read with the older, naked eye… even with “readers”* and a hand-held magnifying glass. It’s possible my checking account now contains a vitamin D supplement. Assembling the shelf required a chair, three light sources, the magnifying glass, and an hour nap upon completion. My particular situation may be different from others due to The Calamities, but it needs to be asked: Why is print so small, and getting smaller? And does anyone know what contrast means? Often light black type is used with a light gray background, especially online. It is aging, I know, since after typing in size 12 Times New Roman for 60 years, the size of this post is 14 Liberation Serif…at least until published.** But size 20 is easily “seen” (pun?) in the future.

I need a pill cutter/splitter. Never has there been a need, urge, or even a mistaken opportunity to use that phrase until August 17, 2025. Good or bad? Since it’s such a new subject, wonder if any young person DOES need a pill cutter/splitter…for any legal reason, anyway.

Altering any physical position is an adventure. Political, emotional, and life positions are still very welcome to change, and often do, without warning. But—in old age–arising to the vertical from a horizontal requires timing and advance preparation if a smidgen of grace and personal honor are to be maintained. (Or artfully exhibited?) Even going from vertical to horizontal is a challenge, too, if in public or anyone is watching. What is done in the privacy of one’s home need not be revealed, but the word “plop” may convey an accurate image. Even then, good eyesight and correct aim are required. (See first paragraph.) And—for the readers sake—there will be no mention of public toilets.

Writing a post like this could happen daily, if one lets it. Seniors are the most persecuted, ignored, and scammed cohort of people in America, and possibly the world. (With the exception of maybe, babies. Is that spoonful of mashed peas really an airplane coming in for a landing?) So letting others know how bad we have it becomes a daily routine, as if it never happened to anyone before and the challenges are all new, seen by us for the first time in this world.

But nothing is ever new and neither are our complaints. The only comfort we can take from our constant listing of grievances is that even those who don’t listen to us will understand eventually, if they’re lucky enough.

So why still complain? As the great Doctor Wright says: “If everything seems to be going good, you have obviously overlooked something.” And I needed to post a piece. It’s been awhile. And I’m tired of Trump stuff. Aren’t you?

*eye helpers placed all over the places we occupy because we can’t keep track of one pair.

** I’ve no idea the size or readability of this post after publication, when you read it. My laptop is set to enlarge everything, and my phone display only goes so big, so…if you have a complaint about readability, sit on it. No one cares.

Three Sentences…Again

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A  new, worst traffic enemy plagued me three times this past week. It is the car (removing all personality from this complaint) whose brake lights come on before the turn signal. New curse words were invented each time.

Streaming services have lost their collective minds as each time I look for a better one, their advertisements tout their “over 100 channel” line up. If someone watches two channels at a time (one for each eye), for one hour at a time, for 10 hours a day, in five days they will have viewed all the channels for which they paid over $100. If either of those two sentences make any sense to you…

My Late-life discovery of ear buds and “you tube” music videos continues to amaze. Every day in July I listened to parts of the April 2025 Madison Square Garden concert of The Brothers, an Allman Brothers legacy spinoff which includes two original members from 1975. Google “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed”, insert buds, recline, and enjoy.

My recent—and last—hip replacement surgery went as planned thanks to the brilliant Dr. Wickline and the exceptionally enjoyable Apex Surgery Center in Westmoreland, NY. The June 18 surgery was more than enjoyable, and almost fun. Makes me wonder what joint to replace in the future.

Local Trump supporters are getting a little antsy. Their “letters to the editor” have increased in volume but not in fact or relevance, and they are using the Trump trick of throwing stuff out to see what sticks. The saddest part of our entire political scene is neither party can see that with the current polarity, strict party affiliation means EVERYTHING “the other party” does is bad, even if it isn’t.

Trump recently posted angry words about a Gayle King. I’ve no idea who she is but I can’t help but wonder why he bashed her. One of the questions I ask Trump supporters is “Would you like Donald Trump to be a member of your own family?

Turning Stone Resort is a 24-hour casino/resort so last Sunday–after my 6 am fitness group–I went to the 24-hour restaurant for a hearty, healthy breakfast. Not much else was open and there were very few people (one of the reasons for going early) until I passed the Smoke Shop. Over 20 people were waiting in line for tobacco products.

The New York Yankees suck. The Yankees suck. The Yankees suck…this year.

It’s hard to know what to eat, these days. As I recover from cancer treatments the best way to build back one part of the body causes havoc with another part. How vitamins, minerals, proteins, iron, water, cherry juice, potassium, and pizza all work together is very confusing.

I purchased glasses on line for a lot less money than my local eye center wanted and the on-line company promised 24-hour customer service. When my order got lost by USPS, however, I was dropped into automated hell dealing with bots and phone trees leading to bots. The Ai future is here.

When will it all end?

What? Football season is here? Thank, God.

In Three Sentences…or Less

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It’s a sleepless night caused by our new Trumpistic (sic) societal norms. And surgical recovery. And wonderful, open-windows weather in upstate NY.

Our leader’s insecurity is on full display with the new Wall Street Journal lawsuit. Sticks and stones will break his bones but words…will hurt his ego. Sue the bastiges.**

ICE and DHS (google them) are over their annual budget already. Wondering about waste, fraud, and abuse? Me, too, DOGE..

Closing the border and deportation are two different things. Success at the border, then disaster using “worst of the worst, only” deportation. What?

It’s funny DHS and ICE agents want to protect their identities. As they surround and detain illegal immigrants, who is the “worst of the worst”, then? Maybe ICE should call ahead and tell their targets to mask-up as well, just to be fair.

Incongruity and hypocrisy are highlighted when illegal immigrants are rounded up from American businesses that then have to close because the businesses can’t find workers. Raise your hand if you think this is the first time America has taken advantage of “foreign labor” to make a profit. In a few years, if not already, you may not be able to learn about slavery, sweatshops, and rich men taking advantage of entire classes of foreign people as we Make America Great Again.

The Texas Hill Country Tragedy does not need to be politicized, it came with the rain. Years of denials about warning systems by elected officials are public record as they say “on record” they don’t want to “hear sirens in the middle of the night” or take “Biden Money”. Texas is a blueprint for our future if we allow it.

You hear a lot about common sense from politicians. So, if DOGE fires/lays off workers from national weather services and disaster warning agencies, what is it called if disaster strikes the very areas that need those services and agencies more than ever? I can think of a word.

A politician in North Carolina ran on a platform of de-regulation and was elected. When a family member got seriously hurt during an “unregulated” recreational activity, that same politician filed a bill to regulate it. Now that’s common sense, except for the timing.

A lot is made of Trump, chaos theory, and his ability to play “four-dimensional chess”. It’s time to realize he is in over his head and bouncing from crisis to crisis, winging it. Since he can’t be re-elected, it’s hard to understand since he doesn’t have to make anyone happy, anymore, but himself.

Common sense and Epstein. Before you make any assumptions, read all the records publicly available, including the 2008 “special” deal made by a Geroge Bush appointed Republican Attorney for the Southern District of Florida, who was then appointed Secretary of Labor in Trump’s first term. Maybe MAGA is finally right about something.

When you’re in recovery from surgery, with a drug protocol full of painkillers and anti-somethings, it’s best not to think too much with the free time you spend sitting around “recovering”. This is the third post written during recovery and my sense of humor has “left the building”.

Whether that’s Trump’s fault or mine, I hope it comes back. Humor is all we have left. Enjoy it when you find it.

** See a Michael Keaton movie from 1984 for translation. And humor.

Some bad things?

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It is a curse to be self-aware, especially if you don’t know it.

The title refers to things about myself that I don’t notice. They get put in a pile, get forgotten (really: ignored) and then sooner or later, they get addressed. It is later, now.

I don’t really mind other drivers: it’s the yelling at life, I like. You “no-signalling turners” and “stop-at-yield-sign” drivers are not as irritating as you might think. They simply “release the hounds” of profanity. Since it happens in an empty car, with the windows rolled up, there is deniability built in if the other driver chases me down and has a Glock.

Things fall all around me for no reason, making me pick them up. I curse them with the common lament of the persecuted: “Why me?” It does help when other people my age say they feel the same. It doesn’t end the feeling of persecution, though, and I might rather enjoy that, too. (See above paragraph.)

When things are going good for me, I make the mistake of saying out loud a phrase that acts as a trigger and ruins the mood. Can anyone guess what the phrase is? It is the universal wail of the optimist who is skeptical: “Something bad’s gonna happen, soon.”

My life (which is probably at least similar to yours) is comprised of different moods, and I feel like wearing an apology sign for all those who get in my way when I’m in my Bad Mood (BM…please don’t confuse it with doody.) In a BM a slow clerk is the End of the World, and society is coming apart. In a BM the slightest grammatical error, the slightest slight from a public servant, the lack of efficiency of a waitress makes me start planning an underground bunker with lots of frozen pizzas.

But in a Good Mood (GM, no not the car company), those events listed, above, make me smile, and wonder what the future holds for the guilty person. At the grocery store this morning, I used a real person for checkout since there was only one man in front of me with a small order. But when it came time to pay, that’s when he took out his voluminous wallet and started counting out bills, and then change. Oddly, I felt the line growing behind me more than I felt the usual annoyance of being slowed down, AND I felt sorry for the old gentleman. What is happening to me????

Here’s another Bad Thing. I feel so good this morning I wrote a nasty, “let’s end things” text to the woman who screwed me over this past summer. As a good, decent man I had been trying to save a 21 year relationship but suddenly decided to believe–and act on–what my friends liked to say about her: “She is a cruel, selfish bitch.” Oddly, sending the “close the door on all possibility” text made me feel better.

I do not look my age. Two doctors this week, alone, who had not read my file yet, accused me of being “Mid-50 years old”. One last month thought my 50-year-old daughter was my wife. You probably can’t see the problem, so I’ll explain: I look too young for woman my age, but am factually too old for women the age I look like. If you’re married or in a committed relationship you won’t understand. But try and imagine being a 72-year male back on the market, back on the prowl. I tried a dating site for a few days but stopped because it took too long to prove the profile picture was recent. One “lady” (the quotation marks will be explained in the next sentence) asked for a pic of my birth certificate. With hindsight, she was probably a Nigerian Romance Scammer. Maybe I should have just lied and looked for younger women. Imagine, too, a 72 year-old woman being “accosted” by a 55 year old man asking for a date. (No, I have not encountered any Cougars in Upstate NY, they all moved to Florida.)

It’s too bad a GM can’t just be enjoyed. And a BM ignored. But it is much better to be alive and aware, than lost in The Calamities and eternal doom. A close, younger friend just learned he needs a pacemaker. The news saddened me at first, but then the news sidled up next to what the worst could be and life got back to balance for him, and for me as an accessory to the fact.

With all the bad that can happen, balance is heaven.