Sunday, December 4, 2011

I thank you for your support

Because of your overwhelming response to my pathetic plea for attention (6 comments, a record), I will include 1 photo of Vincent and myself (thank you Shauna) at our "holiday kickoff party," and 1 musing:


As I sat just a few days ago and dated a page in my journal I realized that not long from now we will be living in the year 2012.  I don’t know how anyone else has viewed this but I have not put a lot of thought into living beyond 2012.  About a month ago I was on a plane returning home from Chicago when I got into a fairly philosophical conversation with a gentleman who thought that  he would like to live until 70 years of age (useful physical age), then just disappear.  I shared my similar thoughts about living until 55 then heading off into the desert never to be heard from again – like an old dog. 
Is that what dogs do?  When I was about 8 years old my dad said that our dog Abby had just left home one day, because she was old, and wandered off into the desert.  Before I do this I better check to see if this is what dogs really do – we later found out that Abby had been hit by a car, and that dad knew it but thought that the wandering in the desert story was preferable.  Now I'm not sure what to do.

5 comments:

Lark said...

You also you have a cousin who comes to read and enjoy the photos.

Anonymous said...

Don't go get hit by a car...

BBall said...

“So to be sick unto death is not to be able to die -- yet not as though there were hope of life; no, the hopelessness in this case is that even the last hope, death, is not available. When death is the greatest danger, one hopes for life; but when one becomes acquainted with an even more dreadful danger, one hopes for death. So when the danger is so great that death has become one's hope, despair is the disconsolateness of not being able to die.”
― Søren Kierkegaard

Melon said...

Brad, The longer I live the more I find that tow along thier "black dog", as Winston Churchill described it.

Myrle Dalton said...

I guess my comment did not come through! What a winsome picture of you and Vincent! How wonderful to see our granchildren grow and develop distinct personalities. I did not agree with your dad's handling of the Abby disappearance! However, I couldn't go against his wishes. There is noting worse than to not know what happened to a loved one (dogs included) It is mental anguish to go to bed at night not knowing what has happened, if they are hurt, or need help. We all need closure to heal. None of us fully realizes the many lives we touch. By the way, 54 is pretty young.