Friday, November 20, 2015

58th birthday blog

Today, November 20, 2015, is my 58th birthday. 

That means that, as of today, I have survived:
58*365 days + 14 leap-days  =  21,184 days
which equals
21184 * 24  =  508,416  hours
508,416 * 60  = 30,504,960 minutes
30,504,960 * 60 = 1,830,297,600 seconds.

One point eight three gigaseconds old! Time sure flies.
I am having a minimalist birthday today. I figure that I don’t have to do anything to turn 58, other than survive the day, so I’m taking it easy. All I plan is to share a cake with wife and daughter. No big birthday party; I hate the stress. I’d rather treat a birthday as a milestone rather than as a deadline.
This evening we three will go to see the last “Hunger Games” movie; and the evening after that I shall go to a poetry recital. A week later we’ll celebrate Thanksgiving at my brother’s. At my age I am happy to spread the birthday out over days.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Cruelty of Healing, an Underfable

          Cruelty of Healing

          Once upon a time, the Bluebird of Happiness pecked at a Widow’s window. It chirped, “I’m here! I’m here! Let me in!”
          The Widow opened the window and said, “Go away!”
          The Bluebird hopped onto the windowsill and looked left, right, up, down into the gloom of the room. It chirped, “I’m back!”
          The Widow said, “You left me when he died.”
          The Bluebird chirped, “Forever!”
          “Yes,” said the Widow. “I was happy with him.”
          The Bluebird chirped, “Forever!”
          “Yes,” said the Widow, “or so it seemed.”
          “Forever is over! Come with me!”
          “You mean, just leave him behind?”
          “You are cruel, vain and selfish!”
          “Yes! Come out, come out, come out!” And it flew away.
          The Widow hurried to the front door. She undid three locks, and pushed hard. The front door was stuck shut from long disuse, so she pushed again, harder, and it cracked open. She flung the door wide open, then ran out into the bright sunlight and the fresh breeze.
Panting, she stopped. She looked up. Through streaming eyes she saw a sky the exact same color as the Bluebird.

          Moral: Forever doesn’t last.