Everything Needs a Reason

Every so often I'm reminded of snip-its from my past during conversations about much of nothing. It's like a visit from a Seinfeld episode set in 1960. Some trivial idea percolates but has no vent. Why should anyone care how I fed my dog in 1957 or whether I had trouble adjusting to touch phones or ballpoint pens. Will I ever get to tell how we used to improve our TV reception by holding one side of the 'rabbit ears' as we watched?

Let's flow with this 'new-fangled' BLOG mentality? I write about anything that crosses my mind as if I'm telling it to a warm audience through too many beers, and readers flock to offer their two cents. What's the harm? "Don't want to read it? Fine! Don't!"

I've reached an age where I can consider myself an automatic historian. When I open my mouth to speak, the words which stumble forth are words from 'the historical record so to speak'. I can ramble with authority about my life's experiences, mundane or important, crazy or serious, happy or sad. So can we all, but not with the wisdom of the ages etched upon our memory. Time to get it all down before Alzheimer's takes hold.

When the title "Either Side of 60" arrived in my left-sided brain, only one meaning came with it. I was thinking the year 1960, my early life leading up to it and my early adulthood after it. Now I see a better, double meaning with age 60 being the midpoint. I think 60 turned out to be a most suitable number since surely at the robust age of 59 I was just reaching my pinnacle of historianship. Should I care about all this preamble stuff? Probably not, but, it's comforting knowing I can make up my own rules as I go.