On Import and other Frivolous Things

I do wonder if this blog can ever have any real value to the world. Maybe we all wonder from time to time what our place is in the universe, in this world of ours, in our country, our city, even in our own home. Does it even matter if we have any import to anyone but ourself?

I am 55 years old, what I consider to be the beginning of old age. 55 isn’t old? Most could reasonably expect to live at least until age 75, and 50 would be the beginning of the final trimester of that span. And if one were expecting to live to age 90 that would be optimistic and the final third of that lifetime would start at 60. So averaging between 50 and 60 we get 55 and that is a common number for being granted a senior discount. So I’m old, but barely so.

Import. That is today’s topic. Why does this blog matter to that great sphere we are encapsulated in?

So like Flowers for Algernon this might be if we continue on together over the years until my inevitable demise. Compared to my future senile self I am today a brilliant 55-year-old man lucid and wise in some ways and already hopelessly dated and unable to grasp the new and the young in others. But still, a continued body of posts would provide valuable data on the aging process and the mind both in anecdotal content and in the likely decay of writing construction. Would I be able to tell as time goes on?  Would I care?

These thoughts do not frighten me. It is a challenge, an adventure into the unknown as every day is and ever will be. I am The Incredible Shrinking Man at the end of that old movie losing touch with one world — the world of the young — while entering into a whole new adventure into the unknown.

Will there be joy? Will aging hands continue to make precious music on the piano? If so, for how long? Such old thoughts for one on the cusp of elderly.

For now I go, fading from your view like the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz movie. I’m melting!

Tomorrow is another day, another blog entry, a completely different take on things. Until then and always forevermore, like that melting wicked witch, I’m all wet.

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