It’s been a good season.
I have been the recipient of some great and gracious gifts, and have had the pleasure of surprising a couple of people, myself. We’ve had good travel, good food, and some genuine times. The kids are growing up – my niece Megan stunned my senses as she came through the doorway – she’s not a little girl, anymore. Her old uncle was as pleased as punch to be her old uncle and show her how to string her new guitar, albeit left-handed. I am not the kind of guy that kids gravitate toward (call it an homage to W.C. Fields, call it what you will); it was nice to have a reason to converse with her. If she brings it over next year, then I’ll know that I’m just being used to perform a mundane chore, but, now that it occurs to me, it’d still make me quite happy.
As one who chews on things, this is the time of year for mental mastication. So far, nothing tasty is appearing. There’s a lot going on, and a lot to do. One of my online friends, Tom, has kicked up that whole doing/being/where do you want to go today? dustbowl. Whether it’s the passage of time, inertia, or the seven stages of Death, I’m more comfortable right now that I be what I be. Doing has always been the bug in the balm. How do I show who I be to me son? By what I doing. How’m I doing? Not so good, I fears. He’s a great kid, maybe I doing alright.
This has been a year of doing what needs to be done. Will we do better, starting tomorrow? I don’t know.
