End Game
Good day to you, friend. I hope this finds you well. After some bayou-like heat and humidity, things have cooled off a bit. Cloudiness is the price we pay for the increased comfort. The days ahead look to be moderate and mostly dry.
Yesterday we had the privilege of celebrating my father-in-law’s 93rd birthday. That is twenty-nine more years than my father walked this earth, and fifteen more than my mother. My dear mother-in-law passed away earlier this year.
He is still mentally sharp, and physically able to move about, puttering around his shop and doing yard work. He still lives in his home. If I could strike some agreement that ensured I would be this high-functioning at the age of 93, I would likely take that deal.
Not knowing how long we are going to live makes it an interesting challenge to decide how to use our time. Across any normal time domain for a human life, every second is precious. Whether I live forty more years, or just four, is there any difference in how I should live day-to-day?
With perfect knowledge of the future, I would live differently in those scenarios. With just four years left, I would probably travel - a lot. There is the matter of financial resources. I sometimes joke that I want my last check to the funeral home to bounce. Another old chestnut of mortality humor: I want to be the strongest pall bearer at all my friends’ funerals. I like this one, because it connotes both longevity and robustness.
An interesting article on one of my favorite websites, The Marginalian, made me aware of a compelling story about art and mortality. Back around 2014 - 2015, Bay Area artist Susan O’Malley posed the following question to one hundred people, their ages ranging from 7 to 88: What advice would their future 80-year old selves give to their present self? The answers were transcribed and converted into public art installations throughout San Francisco. They were also encapsulated in book form by O’Malley. But before the book was published, O’Malley fell unconscious and died before she could give birth to the twin girls she was carrying at the time. Both of the babies perished along with their mother. The artist’s sudden, tragic death lent the whole project an even stronger sense of immediacy and poignancy.
O’Malley wrote the dedication to the book shortly before she passed. It was to her husband, and read as follows: “To Tim, Today, until we’re 80, and then some.”
I don’t know how long I’m going to live. So I’m going to keep working and saving money for a while longer. But I can see the finish line. Most of my life has been split between living for tomorrow, and living for today. With each passing day, the ratio is inching more and more toward living for this day, right here and now.
Sunday Supper
As we tiptoe into Fall (yes, the leaves are dropping now), I'm going to keep leaning into my grill. These Sweet & Spicy Apricot-Glazed Pork and Pineapple Kebabs look fantastic. And this Sweet Corn Cucumber Salad in a Buttermilk Dill Dressing is the perfect complement.
Sunday Music
This Sunday I share a live performance by one of favorite singer-songwriters - Mr. John Hiatt. This particular performance is about nine years old, and took place at the Milwaukee Summerfest. Enjoy!
Have a great week ahead! Offer support to others. Make good use of this day. And let me know how I can help.
Peace & Love,
Neal