No More Thinking About the End

It may seem odd to many boomers and other old folks, but I don’t fear death.

Now in my mid-70s, I’ve reached many of the goals set many years ago. I never expected life to go on forever — and wouldn’t want it to. After so many trips around the Sun, it can get kinda boring.

But have you ever considered a few of the positives about kicking the proverbial bucket?

• No more filing state and federal income taxes. That means no longer have to keep track of everything you do during the previous years before filing.
• No more having to replace vehicles, appliances, and other devices.
• No more grieving over the passing of relatives, friends, and pets.
• No more visits to various doctors for whatever procedures to keep you from dying.
• No more telephone calls from spammers trying to sell you a car warranty, medicare supplement, or life insurance.
• No more worries about political polarization, climate change, and pollution.
• No more concerns about the price of gasoline, groceries, and prescriptions.
• No more reading about mass murders and senseless gun violence.
• No more worrying about getting rid of the clutter collected over the years.
• No more upgrading smartphones, computers, laptops, and tablets.
• No more having to deal with toxic people.
• No more seeing and reading about the atrocities of war.
• No more having to take your vehicles in to be serviced or repaired.
• No more thinking about home security.
• No more contending with those who have road rage.
• No more having to face rude, disrespectful, and pretentious people.
• No more answering the front door and seeing religious missionaries, political aspirants, or strangers collecting money for various fundraisers.
• No more deadlines because you’re finally dead.

There’s more I could add to the list, but you get the idea. I bet there are a lot of things you would include.

In the meantime, I’ll wake up each morning and do those things I find challenging, worthwhile, and fulfilling. And then go to bed each night, hoping I accomplished something. But I won’t lose sleep over it — unless it’s getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.

Maybe death is a final blessing from the pain, the mundane, and the insane we’ve encountered throughout our lives.

Until the next time . . .

(This post originally appeared at Medium.com)

Getting Older and Mortality

Just a quick post about getting older. 

Yes, getting older sure beats the alternative, for the most part. I suppose it depends on a person's condition at the time. I know those who are suffering in old age. 

But the thing I don't like is hearing of the passing of my contemporaries. I must admit that I look at the obituary page every day, something I've done for quite a few years. 

At first, it was primarily to see if the parents or kin of friends had died. Now, it's those who I went to high school or college with and those I knew from my career as a journalist/author. Today I learned about the passing of another person I've known for 30 years or so. It sucks.

I don't worry about my own mortality. I know I'm not immortal, and I don't care to be. But it saddens me to hear about those who are moving on to the great bey0nd or whatever. 

Until the next time....

Story Songs: Shannon

I've had several friends deal with the passing of  a "best friend" in the past month or so -- their beloved dog.  Some people will say it's like losing a member of your family.

For dog (and cat) owners, it is losing a member of your family. It's painful. It's tearful. And it's sad.

Henry Gross wrote about the passing of a dog in "Shannon."  The song was somewhat inspired by the loss of Beach Boy Carl Wilson's Irish setter, Shannon," that was struck and killed by a car. You can read about the story behind the song on Gross's website.

The tune beings with the mother having problems dealing with the loss:

"Another day is at end
Mama says she's tired again
No one can even begin to tell her"

Then we learn about Shannon:

"Shannon is gone I hope she's drifting out to sea
She always loved to swim away
Maybe she'll find an island with a shady tree
Just like the one in our backyard"

And we learn how her loss affects those who loved her:

"But finally the tears fill our eyes
And I know that somewhere tonight
She knows how much we really miss her"

One comment I read about the song was that it couldn't just be about the passing of a dog; that it had to be a metaphor for personal loss. All I can say is that the death of a pet is a painful, personal loss.

Gross, a founding member of Sha Na Na, is so expressive in the lyrics and his high-pitched vocal -- it simply sounds sad without even knowing the story. It can move you to tears.

"Shannon" reached No. 6 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1976. Gross, now 61, is still an active singer-songwriter.

So for Doug, Mark, Sharon, Jerry, Jim, Linda, and others who mourn the loss of their dogs (and other pets), this post is dedicated to you.

"Shannon" lyrics

(In the spirit of the holiday season, the digital price of "Laments: Short Stories" has been reduced to 99 cents on Amazon.com, B&N.com, and Smashwords.com.  If you decide to purchase, please leave review/feedback).

The Passing of Best Friends

It's difficult losing a best friend -- especially the four-legged ones.

In the past several weeks several friends have seen the passing of their dogs. Phoebe died last week at age 11 and stanley passed away this week at age 10. My next door neighbor's Golden Retriever, Chadwick, crossed the Rainbow Bridge last month at age 13.

I feel the sadness in my friends' hearts because my Bucky died five months ago. He was only 8 1/2. It's a painful and heartbreaking experience that pet owners truly understand. 

There was an article this week in the Washington Post  by  Joe Yonan about his grieving after the passing of his dog, Red, four months ago. It's an insightful piece about the closeness between humans and canines.

For those who love pets, it's an article that I highly recommend because it deals with the wonderful relationship we have with our four-legged friends, from the joyous time they enter our lives until the sad day they bid farewell.

As one of my friends told me -- some say they are like family; no, they ARE family.

Until the next time...